#neville x ron

[big-ronnev-fan]

My classmate just implied that Ron Weasley would be straight. I'm choosing to forgive her.

[liquidluckdrabblechallenge]

💚 The Colour of Your Jumper 💚

Author : xWastedIntellectual_13

Prompt : Sharing Clothes + Lavender + Quidditch Pitch

Pairing : Neville Longbottom / Ron Weasley

Rating : T

Words : 2061

Summary: Neville and Ron share a little moment some weeks into their relationship. They also share a couple of clothes...

✨ READ ON AO3 ✨

[thoughtsofafruit]

My goal for today is to write a ronnev fic. I have absolutely zero ideas and no idea how it'll turn out but I really like them and I need to write them. I just don't know what to do

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[rainydayathogwarts]

ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴛʀɪᴏ ᴇʀᴀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Here's my navigation for my other masterlists!

ʀᴏɴ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Jealous, jealous, jealous girl - ** ron notices you upping the PDA when Lavender starts flirting with him and you decide to show her who he belongs to.

popular!shy!reader - * ron’s friends think you were the one who made the move but are shocked to find out the opposite.

the dream** - ron has a dirty dream and wakes up hard next to reader

Needy** - needy!ron misses you because you've been taking NEWTs too seriously but he finds the perfect moment to drag you into an empty classroom.

Overstimulation with dom!Ron**

Goodbye kisses that last longer than intended blurb

Opposite teams** - You play a Quidditch match against your boyfriend, who's a very sore loser.

Glossy lips - Wiping off lip gloss from his lips after a kiss

Late to class** - Ron doesn't want you to leave to class so soon and manages a convincing excuse for you to stay

Unsteady desk chair** - When ron's been locked in his dorm trying to finish an essay all afternoon, you decide to help motivate him a little.

Ron has lived in the chosen one's shadow since they became best friends, so when he gets the one thing Harry wants, he decides to never let go... coming soon.

Ron won't stop complaining about Seamus and his girlfriend taking up the dorm until he's the one with a girl in there. coming soon...

ɴᴇᴠɪʟʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ

Snake ring* - In which the twins pull you into a game of seven minutes in heaven.

Dry-humping Neville at a party**

Kiss and tell - In which a very aware y/n of Neville's crush on her gets the courage to make a move.

Stolen glances - Stealing glances at each other across the room until your friends notice.

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

Harry's bi awakening

"You knew?" "You didn't?" - In which the twins only just find out their sister is dating Harry.

Me and You - You keep telling Ron to just 'ask her out' but he won't take your word seriously until you take your own advice. Somehow, you both end up with dates...

Sub!harry begging mean!slytherin!reader to let him cum, but she's having too much fun... coming soon

ᴏʟɪᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ

I already won - even though he very much lost the game, he still won you.

How they react when you tell them you're in the mood - Oliver wood edition

Blood, dirt and reunions - You almost die and reunite with an old ex-boyfriend... or not.

ꜱᴇᴀᴍᴜꜱ ꜰɪɴɴᴇɢᴀɴ

Tipsy - Seamus takes care of you when you're drunk.

Safe in his arms - Brother!Harry Potter makes Seamus promise him to keep you safe because of how obvious your feelings are for each other.

ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Just a swim - Percy's partner tries to get him to break a couple of rules.

How they react when you're in the mood*

'For the first time in his life, Percy pushes academics aside to focus on a girl, but his family doesn't know and thinks he has gone down a dark road.' coming soon...

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Guilt trip - Charlie tries to guilt trip the reader to visit his family with him.

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴋʀᴜᴍ

What's her face - Rita skeeter being annoying

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Into the woods** - Waking George up to go out for a morning walk at the Burrow has him feeling quite frisky…

ᴄᴇᴅʀɪᴄ ᴅɪɢɢᴏʀʏ

No disturbances - You and Cedric make such a cute couple that teachers have turned a blind eye to several accounts of PDA.

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

Someone finds out you're dating

he gets turned on at the wrong time*

She gets turned on at the wrong time*

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : harry potter boys x keeper!reader

↳ harry, ron, draco, neville, fred, george, remus, and sirius with a partner who can wield ancient magic (hogwarts legacy style).

↳ requests are open! submit ideas, drabbles, headcanons, or one shots to the link in my bio! don’t be shy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

harry potter:

-thinks it is the coolest shit ever! when you're in a fight together and you protect him by shooting a powerful blue bolt towards the enemy that disintegrates their very beginning, he feels so proud to be your partner!

-on the other side, he also knows it feels like to have a lot of pressure and power on your side. he worries about what it must feel like to wield ancient magic and be the only living person who can see it. every time you use it, he checks on you after, ensuring that you don't feel too exhausted and can continue fighting.

-supported you so much through the trials. he didn't need to know every detail of what you did and went through but he would hold you so tight when you came back, praising you over and over for being so strong and brave.

ron weasley:

-he's a little jealous, ngl. like his partner can use this sick magic and is responsible for keeping the magic safe and alive out of the wrong hands?? why can't he do that???

-i also feel like ron would be confused, if not a little angry, that you refuse to share the power and attempt what others have before (such as isidora using the magic to remove pain). he doesn't really understand the problem and feels like the keepers are suspicious.

-he'd brag about you alllllll the time though! like oh my god every second he would find some way to bring up the fact that you can do really awesome things and that you are his awesome partner forever!

draco malfoy:

-draco loves you a lot and finds your magic incredibly cool, don't get me wrong, but i think his family swayed his pursuit of you because wouldn't it be so grand if the malfoys had a keeper in their family? someone so powerful and knowledgeable? who would pass down the truth and their magic? yes please! (every time narcissa brings it up, it irks draco but also he pats himself on the shoulder for choosing you)

-wants to know every detail about the trials and the past and the memories you're viewing! you'll come back from a trial, sweaty and tired, maybe bleeding, and he'd help you first then ask hundreds of questions after.

-your use of ancient magic is not necessarily unknown and makes you quite popular among the students of hogwarts. this, however, makes draco really jealous. if he could, he would follow you everywhere, glaring down anyone who tries to make a move on you. before you go on adventures, classes, or just to the common room, he'll drape you in his slytherin scarf as if he was marking you.

neville longbottom:

-poor thing gets so nervous when you have to complete the trials or do something incredibly important for the sake of keeping the magic safe. he knows he can't go along with you but he'd stay by your side until the very moment you enter the map chamber, whispering praises and support the whole time.

-would heal up all your wounds and take care of you if you exerted too much during a fight. he knows how much everyone depends on you and the least he can do is take care of you properly! he would run you a bath, apply soothing balms to your skin or use his plants to heal you up, and cuddle you tightly!

-tries his hardest to not feel useless but sometimes it's hard when you're so strong and he's so...not. of course you'll always reassure him and give him the confidence he needs but very frequently, he gets really down on himself about it.

fred weasley:

-every day he comes to you with a new scheme that involves your magic. could you make a portal that leads from the dungeons of hogwarts to the top of the astronomy tower? it's important. snape is gonna get really mad when he goes into his office? can your magic fix that?

-begs, and i mean BEGS, you to let him come along on your adventures and battles. he wants nothing more than to support you and fight along your side! as long it's not a trial, you can't help but let him come along. you usually end up saving him after he pays a little more attention to the way your whip around the battle, taking down everyone effortlessly.

-speaking of paying too much attention to you, he thinks it is so attractive than you can do what you do! he gives you some time after fighting to recuperate but then immediately he is ON you. he's kissing you and telling you how hot it is when you turn someone to just particles.

george weasley:

-he wants you to teach him everything you can. there are some things that are just simply innate and can not be taught but all your tips and tricks when it comes to fighting will now be all of his tips and tricks. you two would just find some field away from the burrow and go at it, sending spell after spell at each other. georgie is just overflowing with adrenaline and it's a great way to get it out.

-deep down, a part of him wants to be protective of you. he wants to keep you from going out into danger and taking on dangerous tasks all for magic and some old people telling you what to do. but he knows better, trust me. he knows you can defend yourself just fine but he just wants to put you in a little bubble and never let anything hurt you.

-just like ron, he will brag about you whenever he can. everyone is sitting around the great hall table, talking about how it's so cool that you defeated a troll in one fell swoop and he just wraps his arm around your shoulders, a glimmer in his eye as he proceeds to say "yeah, aren't they just so amazing?"

remus lupin:

-fears for your health and safety so much! when you come back from a trial, he's hushing you and putting you in bed, feeding you chocolate and brewing tea until you feel better!! you are bearing the weight of centuries old magic all alone. the least he can do is take care of you!

-supports your decisions throughout your entire journey as a keeper. if you truly believe that releasing ancient magic to the world and using it for more than the original keepers intended, then he understands. if you want to continue to keep it hidden, he will not question your judgement.

-this is so fluffy but i feel like you figured out how to manipulate your ancient magic to floating, bright blue scenes and pictures. around remus's time of the month (said lovingly), you'll lay in bed with him and use your wand to paint pictures of animals, lakes, waves, stars, or, in more sappy moments, your future.

sirius black:

-he thinks it is SO hot that you can take someone down without barely blinking an eye. his favorite move you do is when you lift someone into the air and slam them down repeatedly. gets blushy and turned on excited every time.

-once followed you down into the map chamber only to be very harshly yelled at by one of the keeper's portraits. he just wanted to see what it looked like and to know where you go on dangerous missions!! who can blame him, truly? definitely grumbled the whole rest of the day.

-when you two get married, he refuses to let you take his last name and instead will either take yours or say screw it and come up with one! he doesn't want his family to have the gratification of having a keeper with the black family name. he wants you to shine for who you are and in another century, he wants your name to be yours, not his.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

how the hp boys would react when they find out you have a crush on them

pair: Harry Potter x reader | Ron Weasley x reader | Draco Malfoy x reader | Neville Longbottom x reader | Cedric Diggory x reader | Fred Weasley x reader | George Weasley x reader | Oliver Wood x reader

masterlist | navigation

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Harry Potter

Harry's day takes an unexpected turn when Seamus casually mentions that the younger student, who's always been kind and friendly to him, might have a crush on him. At first, he laughs it off, thinking it's just a rumor, but when Ron confirms that he's heard the same thing, Harry’s heart starts racing. He can’t help but replay every interaction with you in his head, realizing there might have been subtle hints he missed. Harry isn't sure what to do; part of him is flattered, and another part is nervous. He’s always admired your kindness and intelligence, and now, knowing how you feel, he becomes more aware of his own feelings. Over the next few days, Harry starts paying closer attention to you, growing more awkward but also more interested, trying to figure out his next move.

Ron Weasley

Ron overhears some third-years gossiping about how you, the girl from his study group, have a bit of a crush on him. He immediately goes red, both from embarrassment and the unfamiliarity of the situation. He's never been great at reading signals, so the thought that someone likes him catches him off guard. At first, he brushes it off, thinking it must be a joke, but when Hermione reassures him that it’s true, he can’t stop thinking about it. The next time he sees you in the common room, he’s noticeably flustered, fumbling his words and trying to act cool, which only makes him more endearing. Despite his awkwardness, Ron can’t help but feel a little pleased, and over time, he starts to warm up to the idea, maybe even considering how to approach you about it.

Draco Malfoy

Draco is lounging in the Slytherin common room when Pansy Parkinson, with a sly grin, tells him that a younger Gryffindor girl has a crush on him. At first, he scoffs, dismissing it as irrelevant, but later, when he realizes it’s you—a girl he’s actually noticed for your sharp wit and surprising bravery—he becomes intrigued. Draco isn't one to openly show interest, but now, every time he sees you in the corridors or during meals, he’s more aware of your presence. He might tease you more, dropping subtle hints to see how you react, trying to gauge your feelings. Though he maintains his cool exterior, Draco can’t help but feel a thrill at the idea of someone like you liking him, and he starts thinking about how to use this to his advantage, or perhaps, how he might actually feel about you.

Neville Longbottom

Neville is in the library when he overhears some girls from your year talking about how you have a crush on him. His immediate reaction is disbelief; he’s never considered himself someone people would have a crush on. Nervously adjusting his collar, Neville tries to focus on his Herbology notes, but he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s always liked you—how could he not? You’re kind, and your encouragement during classes has always meant a lot to him. But now, knowing you might feel the same way, Neville starts to become more confident around you. He’ll blush whenever you’re near but will also make more of an effort to talk to you, even inviting you to study sessions in the greenhouse. Though he’s shy, Neville is secretly thrilled, and the thought of you liking him makes him smile more than usual.

Cedric Diggory

Cedric is chatting with his Hufflepuff friends when one of them mentions that you, a sweet younger student from Ravenclaw, have a bit of a crush on him. He’s flattered, of course—he’s used to a bit of attention—but the thought of you, someone he’s always admired for your intelligence and grace, having feelings for him makes him pause. Cedric is the type to handle this situation with kindness and maturity. The next time he sees you, he’ll go out of his way to be friendly, making sure you feel comfortable around him. He might even drop a few hints that he’s aware of your feelings, just to see how you react. Cedric would be careful not to lead you on if he wasn’t interested, but in this case, he finds himself considering the possibility of getting to know you better, as your crush on him sparks something within himself.

Fred Weasley

Fred is busy planning a prank with George when Lee Jordan casually drops the bomb that you have a crush on him. Fred’s reaction is immediate—he grins widely, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He’s always liked you; after all, you’re fun to be around and have a sharp sense of humor. But now, knowing that you like him back, Fred is going to make the most of it. The next time he sees you, he’s teasing you more than ever, dropping playful hints and watching with delight as you blush. Fred isn’t one to be subtle, so you might find little jokes or pranks with double meanings aimed your way. But beneath the fun and games, Fred’s genuinely pleased and interested, and he starts looking for ways to spend more time with you, always with that signature Weasley charm.

George Weasley

George finds out from Angelina that you have a crush on him, and his reaction is a mix of surprise and amusement. He’s always thought you were a cool person, but now, knowing you like him, he can’t help but feel a bit shy—though he’ll never admit it. Unlike Fred, George is more low-key in his approach. He’ll still joke around with you, but his teasing becomes a bit more affectionate, and he might try to find moments where it’s just the two of you. George is more thoughtful than his twin, so he’ll start to notice the little things about you that he hadn’t before, and he might even drop by your common room to say hi more often. Though he keeps things lighthearted, George’s actions show he’s interested, and he’s thinking about how to take things a step further.

Oliver Wood

Oliver is coming off the Quidditch pitch when a teammate mentions that you’ve been seen watching the practices more often, and that you might have a crush on him. Oliver is immediately intrigued. He’s so focused on Quidditch that he hasn’t noticed much else, but now, he’s paying attention. He remembers how you’ve always been supportive, cheering for the team, and he’s flattered. The next time he sees you, he’s extra charming, asking if you’d like to join the team for a post-practice hangout. Oliver is confident and direct, so he might just ask you outright if the rumors are true, but he does it with a playful smile to keep things light. If he finds out you do like him, Oliver’s quick to make his interest known too, inviting you to more Quidditch-related activities and finding excuses to spend time with you outside of the game.

[j-nope-not-today]

HP characters reaction to s/o being a muggle

Harry Potter

He does not care

Literally doesn't have an opinion on the subject

Bc he loves youuu and not your magic or non magical abilities

I really feel that his main concern is some snobby witch/wizard being rude to you

But could give a fuck less if anyone commented on you being a muggle

"Okay and? So what if she/he can't do magic. She's/he's still great in bed."

10/10 will say some snarky/sarcastic ass shit if someone is rude to you about it.

He is THE Harry Potter

He would probably love for someone to point it out so he can say some shit back about it.

He will defend you through thick and thin.

May god have mercy on whatever poor soul wants to be prejudice against you.

Will love doing muggle things with you. I mean he did grow up as a muggle.

Otherwise though he loves you and your muggleness very much. It reminds him of home ❤️

Ron Weasley

Aww your his little cutie patootie

Will brag about it to anyone who will listen

"Oh? Well my gf/bf made me dinner from scratch."

He'll brag about literally anything he can. It could be the simplest shit too

Is very impressed that you do everything and without magic too

He'll start doing things without magic just to appreciate the simplicity of it

But yeah..definitely tells everyone and their mom about how proud he is to be with you

Ain't no one gonna be rude about it either. He will guaranteed shut that shit down as soon as it starts.

Fred Weasley

He loves it.

Loves absolutely everything about it

Not to mention he loves it even more because romancing you is so much more fun for him

Will always pull a fancy magic trick from out of his sleeve to impress you or flirt with you

"For you beautiful"

Does complain about doing things without magic

But will begrudgingly do so to please you

But yes. He will complain about it the entire time

I don't think anyone would be ballsy enough to insult you or say some rude shit about you being a muggle

Knowing fred that would start world War 3

But he looooves you. Vv much

George Weasley

Admires you so so much

Bc how do you do it?

Will watch you do the simplest most mundane shit and come out of nowhere with a

"My god you look so fucking gorgeous right now love."

Wouldn't complain about helping you do stuff without magic

I think he finds he enjoys it much more without magic. It's more rewarding

Will beg to do muggle things with you absolutely wants to experience it all

Just like with fred. Ain't no one ballsy enough to say something lest they want to die

But he absolutely adores you and everything about you

And will remind you every day how much he loves you

Draco Malfoy

He didn't expect to end up with you

But he sure isn't complaining

And he'll be damned if you lift a single beautiful fucking finger when he's around

He will 100% dote on you in his every waking moment

For a second you might be convinced you aren't a muggle

He uses magic for just about everything and will not let you do something when he can do it for you

"Listen dear it's just simpler this way. Let me do it."

Your spoiled and he'll make sure you know how appreciated and loved you are

Can never wrap his head around muggles.

Thinks you make everything way more complicated than it needs to be

And should anyone be insulting or rude. They might find themselves hexed or cursed.

Neville Longbottom

This man LOVES you

Will not for a second let you think otherwise

And he'll probably absolutely love doing muggle things with you

And you will have a garden

I can just see him loving gardening with you. The muggle way.

Will randomly whip out flowers and small little gifts for you

Just to impress you

And he'll definitely have words for anyone who wants to be rude to you because how dare they?

To him. Your absolutely perfect

[hpseeker99]

Neville: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water? Ron: Y-You were putting it in cold water? Ginny: Neville. Answer the question Neville. Neville: Yeah? I thought for like 5 years that people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process, didn’t realize there was an actual reason. You think I have the patience to boil water? Ginny: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes? Ron: Why are you, putting it in the microwave to boil it?! Ginny: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? Ron: It 👏🏻 TAKES👏🏻 LESS THAN A 👏🏻 MINUTE Ginny: Bestie is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun?? Ron: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? Ginny: Like seven minutes Ron: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like two minutes… less than that is you use a saucepan… Ginny: [crying] You’re putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Your stove is enchanted Hermione: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. Harry: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?

[big-ronnev-fan]

Trans Ron helping non-binary Neville come to terms with their gender. You agree, reblog

[yovrnewromantic]

THE MEANEST GIRL IN HUFFLEPUFF

a small series inspired by my harry potter oc! and her interactions with her peers! enjoy :) please lmk if you have any requests!!

the masterlist! (written by a hufflepuff in denial so yk its accurate)

Harry Potter... Coming soon...

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Hermione Granger

Theodore Nott

Ron Weasley

Mattheo Riddle

Lorenzo Berkshire

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Pansy Parkinson

Ginny Weasley

George Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

[beerose12]

harry potter as memes part 1 feat.

1. ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon

2. neville being accident prone

3. hermione being done with all this fucking bullshit

[ellswritings]

About Time

Harry Potter x Gryffindor!Reader

TW: Harry being jealous, Y/N is really ‘that girl,’ fluff.

╭────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─╮

╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

The announcement of the Yule Ball sent the Hogwarts student body into a frenzy. Professor McGonagall’s proclamation during breakfast was met with gasps, whispers, and cheers. Even the more reserved Ravenclaws exchanged eager glances over their plates.

“Now remember,” McGonagall said, her tone stern as she surveyed the Hall, “this is a formal event. Dress robes will be required, and students are expected to conduct themselves with decorum.”

A chorus of whispers erupted across the Great Hall. Y/N L/N, sitting with Ron, Hermione, and Harry at the Gryffindor table, raised her brows.

“Formal event, huh? Hope you boys have your frilly dress robes ready,” she teased, nudging Harry’s arm.

Harry smirked. “I don’t even know how to dance.”

“Figures,” she quipped, leaning closer with a mischievous glint. “Can’t wait to see you step on someone's toes all night.”

Ron groaned, ignoring their banter. “I just hope my mum didn’t send me anything embarrassing.”

“You’ll look like a prince, I’m sure,” Y/N teased, before turning to Hermione. “What about you? Got anyone in mind to ask you yet?”

Hermione flushed but quickly steered the conversation away. “The Ball is meant to unite the schools. You might want to think about representing Gryffindor without making a scene.”

Y/N put a hand to her chest, feigning offense. “Me? Make a scene? When have I ever—”

“Don’t answer that,” Harry interjected quickly, earning a grin from her.

It was moments like this—lighthearted and filled with their easy camaraderie—that made Y/N’s dynamic with Harry so unique. Their teasing often bordered on flirtation, though neither would ever admit it.

The moment McGonagall’s announcement ended, Y/N became a focal point for Yule Ball chatter, much to her bemusement. Boys seemed to appear out of nowhere, all vying for her attention.

Seamus Finnigan caught her in the common room first. “Y/N,” he said, bowing dramatically, “let me take you to the Yule Ball and save everyone else the heartache.”

She laughed, patting his cheek. “Nice try, Seamus, but I’ll have to pass.”

“I’m crushed,” he said, clutching his chest theatrically before retreating with a grin.

Later, Michael Corner stopped her outside Charms, stammering through his request. “Y-Y/N, I was wondering if maybe you’d, uh, go to the Ball with me?”

Y/N smiled kindly. “Michael, that’s sweet of you, but I’ve already got someone in mind.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, cheeks burning as he scurried away.

But the real kicker came when Viktor Krum approached her after lunch one afternoon. His imposing figure seemed to create a vacuum of silence as students watched the Durmstrang champion approach her.

“Y/N,” he said, his thick accent wrapping around her name. “I vould like to take you to the Yule Ball.”

She tilted her head, surprised but not flustered. “That’s quite the offer, Viktor. Why me?”

“You are... strong. Confident,” he said simply. “And very beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she replied, smirking. “But I’m afraid I have to say no.”

Krum looked genuinely surprised. “You do not vant to go?”

“I’m flattered,” she said sincerely. “But I’ve got my eyes on someone else.”

Viktor nodded respectfully. “You are honest. I admire that.”

​​Harry’s jealousy simmered for days. He couldn’t help but notice how Y/N seemed to glide through the chaos, turning down every suitor with grace and humor. It was maddening, especially since he couldn’t summon the courage to ask her himself.

“What’s stopping you?” Hermione asked one evening in the common room after he’d spent several minutes glaring at Cedric Diggory, who had been talking to Y/N outside.

“She’s got better options,” Harry mumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Harry. If she wanted to go with Krum or Diggory, she would have said yes already.”

Ron chimed in, his mouth full of Chocolate Frogs. “Yeah, but what if she says no? Imagine the embarrassment.”

“Helpful, Ron,” Hermione snapped before turning to Harry. “You won’t know unless you try.”

As the days went on, The Chosen One wasn’t sure when it started, but he couldn’t seem to look away when Y/N entered the room. It was almost painful to watch her interact with others, especially when those others seemed to linger too long or laugh a little too hard at her jokes.

Take breakfast, for example. She was laughing at something George Weasley had said, and her laughter drew half the Great Hall’s attention. George smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. Whatever he said next made her snort, her hand lightly smacking his shoulder.

Harry frowned into his porridge. “What’s so funny?”

Ron looked up from his plate. “What?”

“Over there,” Harry said, nodding toward the Weasley twins and Y/N.

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. George probably made some ridiculous joke about Blast-Ended Skrewts. Why?”

“No reason,” Harry muttered, stabbing at his food.

Hermione, ever observant, arched a brow. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully focused on her.”

Harry glared. “I’m not focused. She’s just… loud.”

“Oh, yes, it’s definitely her volume that has you glowering like a thundercloud,” Hermione said dryly.

A week before the Ball, Y/N found herself heading to the library to escape the endless string of admirers. The quiet sanctuary of the shelves was a welcome reprieve until she spotted none other than Harry Potter, buried in a book that he looked thoroughly uninterested in.

“Since when do you study this hard?” she teased, dropping into the seat across from him.

Harry jumped, nearly knocking his inkpot over. “I could ask you the same. Don’t you have another suitor to fend off?”

“Not at the moment,” she said with a smirk. “Figured I’d hide out for a bit.”

“Hide?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah, you know, to avoid the inevitable ‘Y/N, please go to the Ball with me’ speech from yet another poor soul.”

Harry tried to smile, but it came out strained. “Sounds... exhausting.”

“It is,” she replied with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out how to dance without looking like an idiot,” he muttered, his cheeks turning pink.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Harry, you’ve faced trolls, Dementors, and a giant snake. Surely, a little dancing isn’t going to kill you.”

“It might if I step on someone’s foot,” he quipped, finally cracking a genuine smile.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “You know, you don’t have to be perfect at everything. Just... have fun with it.”

“I’ll try,” he said, though his tone was doubtful.

“Well,” she said, standing and grabbing his hand, “no time like the present.”

“What?” Harry stammered as she pulled him into the open space between the shelves.

“Let’s practice,” she said, placing one of his hands on her waist and holding the other. “It’s not that hard. Just follow my lead.”

Harry’s heart was racing as he tried to focus on her instructions. But it was difficult to think straight with Y/N so close, her laugh filling the quiet library as she teased him for his clumsiness.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it,” she said after a few minutes.

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, looking everywhere but at her.

She stopped, her eyes narrowing. “Alright, Potter. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Is this about the Ball?”

Harry hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words.

Before he could respond, Madam Pince appeared, glaring at them. “No dancing in the library!”

Y/N grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him toward the exit with a laugh. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

Harry’s anger ended up reaching new heights when he stumbled upon Y/N and Cedric in the courtyard. They were standing under a tree, laughing about something Harry couldn’t hear. He hesitated behind a pillar, close enough to see but far enough to avoid being noticed.

“So,” Cedric said, leaning casually against the trunk, “are you always this difficult to impress, or am I just unlucky?”

Y/N smirked. “I have high standards. You’re doing alright so far, though.”

Cedric placed a hand over his chest in mock relief. “Good to know. I was worried I’d have to resort to reciting sonnets.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as the poetry type.”

Cedric feigned offense. “And what type am I, then?”

“The charming Quidditch star who thinks his smile is enough to get by,” she said, though her tone was playful.

“Well,” Cedric replied, grinning, “is it working?”

Y/N laughed. “Maybe a little.”

“Enough to get a yes to the Yule Ball?” Cedric asked, his tone shifting to something more sincere.

Y/N hesitated, her smile softening. “Cedric, you’re sweet. And honestly, if I didn’t already have someone in mind, I’d probably say yes.”

Cedric tilted his head, a curious look in his eyes. “Someone in mind, huh? Lucky bloke. Should I be worried?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. But thank you for asking—it means a lot.”

Harry, still hidden, felt his stomach churn. She had someone in mind? Was it someone else he didn’t know about?

The revelation haunted Harry for the rest of the day. Who could she mean? George? Fred? Or someone else entirely?

By the time they reached the common room that evening, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So,” he began, trying to sound casual, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with Cedric lately.”

Y/N looked up from her Charms textbook, clearly amused. “Not really. Why?”

“No reason,” Harry said quickly, though his tone betrayed him.

Hermione groaned, setting down her quill. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Harry. Just ask her already!”

“Ask me what?” Y/N asked, her brows knitting together.

Harry’s face turned crimson. “Nothing. Forget it.”

For the next few days, Harry avoided her entirely. Y/N noticed immediately, her confusion growing with each passing hour. By the time Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, she’d had enough.

When Harry excused himself to the bathroom mid-class, Y/N followed, cornering him just as he passed an empty broom closet.

“Inside,” she said, tugging him by the sleeve before he could protest.

“Y/N, what are you—”

“Shut it,” she snapped, closing the door behind them. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly, avoiding her gaze.

“Don’t lie to me, Potter,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve been acting weird ever since—oh.” Her eyes narrowed. “This is about Cedric, isn’t it?”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “It’s not—”

“Don’t bother denying it,” she cut him off. “What, are you jealous?”

Harry’s eyes flashed. “Why would I be jealous? You’ve been flirting with half the school.”

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice rising. “Every guy in Hogwarts and Durmstrang is lining up to ask you, and you just—just laugh and smile like it’s nothing.”

“It is nothing!” she shouted back. “I turned all of them down, Harry! Including Cedric.”

Harry froze. “You... did?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone softer now but still firm. “Because there’s only one person I want to go with.”

“Who?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She stared at him for a long moment before stepping closer. “You, you idiot.”

Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Me?”

“Obviously,” she said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Now, are you going to ask me, or do I have to keep turning people down?”

Swallowing his nerves, Harry met her gaze. “Y/N, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Her smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Before he could process what was happening, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both gentle and electric. When they pulled apart, Harry couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face.

“About time,” she teased, tugging him out of the closet. “Now let’s get back to class before anyone notices we’re gone.”

The Yule Ball ended up being magical, but for Harry, the real highlight was dancing with Y/N under the enchanted ceiling, knowing they’d both found exactly what they were looking for.

[sofmaart]

This is my first time ever posting fanart, so I hope it goes well🦡

Anyway f*ck TERFs💗

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

Smitten!Neville Longbottom

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x fem!Lupin!reader

Summary: Neville watched you be sorted and hasn’t stopped thinking of you since. To his luck, during your fifth year, you finally start to take interest in the male species.

Warnings: Not beta read. Use of Y/n. Voldemort stays dead after the first war. Umbridge free au. WolfStar raised Harry Potter and reader. Mentioned Drarry. Usage of ‘Moomy’ and ‘Dadfoot’.

Format: Headcanon’s.

Word Count: 4k.

Request Guidelines Main Masterlist

~ 𐀔 ~ △⃒⃘ ~ 𐀔 ~

• Fifth year for you looked miles different to that of your brothers and your fathers had no clue how to handle it.

Growing up with only men wasn’t the hell that some of your girlfriends thought it was, but it was off putting to potential interest in boys. You were well aware how messy and lax they could be, how oblivious they were when it came to more female matters, and it wasn’t appealing. There was a time during muggle primary school that you’d found a boy cute but your brother was quick to scare him away — egged on by the background nudge of your dad. Since then, boys hadn’t really crossed your mind.

But last year, when the TriWizard Tournament took place and Durmstrang made home on Hogwarts grounds, something stirred. Looking back, they weren’t really all that cute, but tall, muscly, foreign men with thick accents were bound to make something click in anyone’s head. Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice their attractiveness, as proven by the whispered conversations by any group of girls you came across, but you were proud to say you didn’t pick one boy to be your favourite and all but claim him from the dating scene when he didn’t even know your name.

What your fathers didn’t know how to handle was your liking to famous stars, what they considered to be ‘suggestive’ muggle romance novels, and your need to gush about them. You weren’t overbearing, most of the time going back and forth with a surprisingly interested Luna Lovegood, but on the occasion that you’d come to them they’d freeze.

It was more the thought that their daughter was taking interest in boys than your want for conversation, how could you go from thinking men were so uninteresting to thinking their faces were “crafted from Merlin’s dirtiest desires” and calling them “babygirl material” so quickly?

In retrospect they found your tangents funny, or they would if you weren’t their little girl.

Harry was easier for them to deal with when he’d taken an interest in dating. Boys they were familiar with, they’d been them and they’d known them and they knew how to guide him. And Harry was sensible when it came to women, respectful and understanding, but he’d taken more of an interest in boys so there wasn’t too much to warn him off of. Your brothers exploring came during the throes of the TriWizard Tournament but you took on a more observative state than you did an explorative one.

In the beginning of fifth year you realised that big and muscly wasn’t really what you wanted from a boy. Teenagers tended to be run by appearance, social standing and magical prowess, you could understand the appeal of it but those that had all three were unappealing in the personality aspect of attraction, at least to you they were. Sadly, you’d found that out the hard way when you’d agreed to go on a date with a popular Hufflepuff and come out of it with bruised knuckles.

But nervous Gryffindor’s obsessed with Herbology? That was your type.

And you might not be a Potter, but your brother was one and every behaviour you have now is learned from your small family, why not his ability to grovel too?

• You’ve been trying for weeks to get Neville to return your feelings, nothing seems to be working.

With Neville you couldn’t be so public with your affections as Harry had been for his boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Luckily, that worked better for you, too. You were never one for dramatic displays and magical scenes.

Neville liked soft, sweet moments and deep conversations — he liked to be heard, to be seen, and you were wonderful at noticing everything about him. He didn’t like expensive jewels and flashy gifts but he did like the Herbology books hidden in the depths of the Black library and the muggle plants you’d find in local shops. He didn’t like public confessions and loud admittances but he did like telling his deep dark secrets in the cover of the greenhouse so long as you shared yours too.

He didn’t like people pointing out his struggle in potions but he took swimmingly to you pointing him in the right direction. He got deeply embarrassed when others pointed out a stain on his shirt but he grinned so wide when you bought him a new one on your next trip to Hogsmeade — especially when he noticed that you’d taken the time to get it made by his favourite seamstress in his preferred style.

As much as he took to your advances, nothing seemed to be changing between you. Neville didn’t reciprocate the small actions you’d taken but he didn’t decline them either and you’d began to wonder if he just didn’t feel the same. The realisation was crushing, a festering feeling largening in your chest, and it had you taking solace in your fathers quarters with tear-tracked cheeks.

“I don’t get it,” You sobbed into Remus’ chest. “I’ve been trying really hard, I’ve been listening to everything he has to say carefully to make sure I don’t miss anything, I’ve been learning Herbology just to make conversation with him and he just- just doesn’t like me.”

Remus swallowed, blinking his heartache back. “You don’t need to try so hard for some boy, sweetheart. You’re perfect as you are. Sometimes boys are stupid and they don’t notice what’s right in front of them, and I would know, I’m a boy.”

You sprung up, sitting back onto your haunches. “But he’s not just some boy, Moomy! He’s Neville, he’s perfect, he’s kind and he’s sweet and he listens! And-” You paused, lips quivering with held back cries. “And I love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

His face softened, silvery scars unwrinkling. He pulled you back into his chest with a grip on your wrists, settling you back between the v of his legs. “Oh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I must be doing something wrong, Moomy, I have to be.” His arms tighten around you, a pressured hug to ground you from spiralling into anxiety’s grip.

The door creaked behind you, silent behind the pitch of your heart, but still, Remus’ head whirled at the sound, finding your brother and your second father standing under the arch. “Remus?” Sirius asked tentatively. “What’s going on? Why’s she crying?”

Remus frowned deeper, shaking his head once as he turned and buried his nose into your hair. Your cries kept on, retching from the pits of your stomach and choking the breath from you, Remus’ shirt dampened under your face and you knew it must be leaking through to his chest but he didn’t seem to mind. “Sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer. Your tears began to slow, drying along with your sobs. You noticed a third hand rubbing along the length of your back, the familiar scent of leather and spice flourishing into your nose. “Dadfoot?”

“Kitten. You doing alright?” His hand didn’t still. “Did something happen?”

“I’m in love with someone,” You whispered. His fingers paused, flexing out against your spine. “He doesn’t love me back.”

“What?” He gruffs, “Who?”

You copy Remus, you shake your head. Sirius wasn’t as restrained as Remus, he’d lost hinges in Azkaban that couldn’t be screwed back in, telling him would put a forever target on Neville’s back — you might as well paint a big red circle on the back of his head should he find out. Sirius snarls, more animal than human.

“Sirius.” Remus warns, growl underlining his own words.

Black sneers, eyes darkening under the stare of his husband. “Remus.” Their gazes don’t falter, like one scorching laser beams trained against the other, sparking crimson and crackling with tension. Sirius breaks first, glancing down at you. “Who?” He says, softer.

“Neville Longbottom.” When Harry speaks his voice is taught with all-knowing. He’s looking between the three of you like you're as mind-gone as any troll, his eyebrow raised and his lips curled. “He’s been in love with her for years.”

• After Harry’s confession, you profess your feelings to Neville.

You could always find him under the glass of the greenhouse, surrounded by vining plants with his fingers dug deep in potted soil, your search for him started and ended there. There was an open book beside him, set against one of the murky windows, and you recognised the weathered pages to be that of a book you’d given him.

The Arts of Potted Mastery by Arlen McCline. It was one of the lightest novels that the Black’s had kept in Grimmauld’s library, and you reasoned the only reason they had it was because it contained additional — vital — information pertaining to a particularly testy flesh-eating plant grown in the Amazon’s depths. You’d warned Neville to not go flaunting his possession of it, lest he want to attract the possessive eyes of other purebloods.

His hands slid from the dirt when you called his name and you glimpsed the remnants embedded under the crescent of his nails and staining his palms when he turned to you. “Y/n.” He grinned.

You smiled back, stepping over his satchel to grab his dirt caked hands and brush the larger clumps to the ground. “Hi. What’re you working on?”

“It’s pretty simple, just some second year stuff that I wanted to try potting myself.” He shrugged, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“There’s second year stuff in that book?” Neville nods. “What is it?”

“A Puffapod.”

“You planted Puffapod’s in second year?”

“Not exactly,” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nan bought me some at the end of second year to plant with her over the summer but you know how she is, she doesn’t like when I do the touching.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “I’m well aware.”

“Well aware?” He flinched back. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You shake your head, cutting a hand through the air. Neville raises a brow at you, calling your bullshit. “It’s just–” You sigh, looking at the half-full pot beside you. “I just don’t like how she underestimates you all the time. You’re good at what you do, Nev, you’re good with plants. I think people could be more appreciative of you.”

Everything is silent for a long minute and when you look back at him, his eyes are trailing the slope of your face with a look you could never before place; now that Harry’s tipped the pot though, you knew it all too well — he was admiring you.

“You appreciate me.” He whispers, swallowing roughly.

A dirt tracked hand raises to the apple of your cheek, you steady yourself for the touch, your cheeks reddening, but he hesitates before dropping his arm.

Your fingers wrap the span of his wrist just barely when you grab it, shuffling your feet so close your shoes touch. “Always.”

His breath catches in his chest. He chokes out a strangled noise, chin tilting closer to his chest to keep the contact between you. Your eyes flicker to his lips, the plump shine of them enticing you onto the tips of your toes.

“Neville?”

Neville hums, a rumble through his chest that vibrates through you.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” His head inclines to the side, an anxious puppy dog gesture he always does when he’s anticipating bad news. You’re quick to try and placate him.

“It’s nothing bad, at least I don’t think it is.” You frown. “I just- I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things have changed over the last few months. At least, for me they have. And yesterday, I had this whole…breakdown? I don’t know, but Harry spilled that you might fancy me and I- I guess–”

His cheeks flame. His breath quickens to an unnatural pace, he steps back, wriggling his wrist in your grasp. “He what?”

“Nev?” You ask smally. He ignores you, too wrapped up in panicking to really hear you. “Neville?”

“I’m sorry he said that. He didn’t mean it, he was being stupid. You didn’t need to know that. You shouldn’t know that. We’re friends. We’re good as friends. I mean sure, I’ve always thought you were really pretty, really lovely, but you don’t like me. And now things are going to be all awkward. I’m so sorry, Y/n. Really, I am.”

“Neville.” You try to placate. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s not. You deserve better than me lying to you.” His breath shutters.

“Nev, I wanted to tell you that I fancied you, too.” You blurt, grasping onto the hunch of his shoulders.

“I’m so sorr-” He stops, looking at you with wide, crazed eyes, and stares through you. “Oh. What? No!” You see the grief flash through him, inflaming his forest eyes and furrowing his face.

“Yes.” You counter with a scoff. “I fancy you. I fancy you, a lot. And, if you’d do me the honour, I’d like it if you went on a date with me.”

“Oh.” Neville’s voice cracked in a squeak. “Yeah. Yes. Sure. I mean, I’d be delighted. Truly.” You grin.

• You asked him on a date but Neville’s more romantic than you anticipated and he’s planned it before you could even try.

If you were being honest with yourself, you’d have taken Neville where all your peers took their dates, a ruddy bar packed full of too loud men and music or a too sweet cafe filled with superficial witches — maybe you’d have drug him between the shops of Hogsmeade, hoping he’d find something he liked, and made filler conversations between that. It wouldn’t have been much, but you’d never thought ahead of the chance he’d say yes, so it would have been something; it would have been a start.

But Neville had bigger, greater plans than that.

He’d asked for the greenhouse for two hours, reserved it with Madam Pomfrey a week in advance, before visiting the kitchens through the passageway you’d shown him. The house elves reserved there were surprisingly stingy with the food they gave him, handing along the woven basket with stern stares and sideway glances, but he’d gotten over it when he’d seen people rushing off to the Great Hall, ready to pile their plates high with the food lining the tables and figured they hadn’t wanted him to spoil his dinner.

He knew taking you to the greenhouse wasn’t so special as some fancy diner, that laying a blanket on the muddied floor wasn’t original at all, but the greenhouse was where most of your dearest memories together were created and it had more sentimental value to the two of the any other place yet.

He’d thought and thought and overthought some more about whether it was good enough for you, he’d ran himself into a rapidfire panic three nights in a row before the day came, but all the anxiety in the world was worth it when you walked through the keep, smiling and fiddling with your sleeve.

“Hi.” You said, meekly.

Neville stared. The evening sun reflected in golden beams off you, kaleidoscoping through the bubbled panes above and haloing the outline of your body, the ivory dress you’d worn flourished around your hips and cuffed around your wrists — he remembers it being the same one you’d gushed over for days, for all its pockets and its charm. The longer he looked at you, the more the thought surfaced, and the only thing he knew you were missing were large, feathered wings mounting your back.

“Hi, Angel.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but he’d been thinking it since first year and you deserved to know how otherworldly you always looked, if only through a pet name. You flushed through to the tips of your ears. “I’m sorry it was such short notice. I just thought we should take this in before the rain starts up again.” He nodded to the sun.

“That’s okay.” You sat across from him. “Though, I thought I was planning this date? I did ask you, after all.” You teased.

“Nan lettered. Told me it was my duty to court you, not the other way around, especially because your dads a Black. I know you don’t usually abide by pureblood rules but she insisted, and I know you hate planning things.”

“You’re right, I do hate planning things,” You nodded, stomach fluttering. “But on the contrary, I’d have planned this gleefully. No matter how bad it’d have turned out.” Him taking over meant more than just that, he was anxious enough for three people and you know it must’ve sucked getting it done; he did it anyway, for you.

Neville snickered. “You should give yourself more credit. Don’t you remember the big drop of ‘93?”

You gasped, scandalised. “Mister Longbottom! I thought we agreed to never ever speak of that again!”

“Miss Lupin! If you didn’t want to speak of it, you shouldn’t have dropped it!”

The two of you stayed silent, glaring between each other with narrowed gazes. He cracked first, lips twitching open to bare a grin, you followed, giggling. The nerves you’d walked in with had gone, dissipated into that familiar warmth and comfort that Neville always gave you. You’d been lucky enough to realise what that feeling meant this year, instead of brushing it off to that same friendship feeling. When Neville planned the date, and sent you a letter with a suggested time and place, you knew your gut had picked right.

The two of you spent hours giggling and sharing food and telling tall tales of your childhood that somehow sounded real and not all at once. You made a game of guessing between each story; Neville won: 5:3. Along the line he pulled over a pot of daisies, muggle flowers he’d planted for you in secret when you’d sent him some chained together over the holidays, and made another game of naming each one.

• Neville tells you he loves you; you cry.

You’d been together for five months and the honeymoon phase was finally settling into a more domestic comfortability. Your relationship had flourished rather slowly considering you’d both liked each other beforehand, but your anxieties had finally begun to diminish and your affection towards each other was becoming less calculated.

Remus had bought a chocolate cake for the two of you to share when you told him you’d confessed with the words “I’m so proud of you” iced atop; it was a little joke on his part but one you both thoroughly enjoyed. His treatment of Neville hadn’t changed at all, except for maybe a kinder smile thrown his way during his classes, but Sirius took it a little more seriously and had tried the “hurt her and watch what happens” talk before you’d put a stop to it. You loved your dadfoot, but he could be a bit much, especially to your boyfriend — Merlin, you loved saying that — who was fragile at heart.

You’d only started venturing to Neville’s dorm a few weeks back, which Harry had at first side-eyed before realising the most you did was cuddle — he gagged, but you were more comfortable there than you had ever been anywhere else. Neville kept his space relatively clean with only a few loose papers smattered and spilled ink staining his desk, but the sheets of his bed smelled so like him that you were prepared to suffocate inhaling them.

Your boyfriend smelt like the wispy, airy scent of an earthy cologne that was always underlined by something so incredibly him, and something you could never quite get out of your nose — not that you’d ever want too. You’d begun to collect the shirts he wore, switching them out every couple days to keep their scent fresh and using them at night to sleep better, Neville just about combusted when he saw you in one.

Now, you were lay in his bed, leg hiked over his hip with your head on his chest and wearing one of his comfier shirts. The dorm was otherwise empty, the other boys gone to the after party of a victorious quidditch season; the music vibrated up through the common room, loud jeers leaking muffled through the gap under the door.

“Nev,” You spoke. “Did I ever tell you how much I love how you smell? ‘Cause I do.”

The breaths he took were even under you, rising and falling in a steady pattern, and your head followed as he chortled lightly. “Yeah, you have.” His thumb strokes along your arm. “But you smell much better.”

You move to rest your chin against his breastbone, “I do?” Neville hums. “What do I smell like?”

His eyes meet yours, the emerald depths piercing through yours with a heart-stuttering suddenness. He takes a minute to think, looking over the curve of your face with a gentleness. “Honestly?” He swallows.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah?”

He takes a breath, one that you feel catch in his chest and bob his throat, “Like… like Amortentia.” He says tentatively. “I- I just– Professor Snape had it made for seventh years and there was a vial left on my desk, I knocked it over. It- it smelt amazing, like mum’s perfume and dad’s robes and… and you.”

You can’t do anything but stare at his flushed cheeks. Amortentia. The love potion. Neville smelt you in the love potion. Did that mean he loved you? Were you looking too deep into it? Surely, he thought it was too soon to love you, surely he needed more time to love you.

“Y/n? I’m sorry. It’s too soon, I’m sorry. So sorry. I should’ve just shut my mouth. I’m so stupid. I’m really sorry.” He gently manoeuvres you off of him, guiding your leg to the red duvet and moving your torso back to the mattress so he can sit up, create distances between you. Your head lands against the plush of his pillow, sinking into the cloud of it, and it’s his gentle manhandling that forces you back into the throes.

“No.” You spring up, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder. “Nev, no, it’s not too soon. It’s not. I– I don’t know what you're trying to say but it’s never too soon.”

When he turns to you the flush of his cheeks has spread down his neck and dusted his ears, his eyes are wide and crazed — like when you’d confessed; he’s beautiful, more tempting than the allure of a Veela could ever hope to be. But he’s panicking and his breath grows ragged as he spits the words, he’s not being mean, not intentionally, but anxiety has a funny way of making people act differently.

His panic makes your eyes well over, clouding with panicked sorrow of their own. There’s a dam waiting to break as his lip quivers, cracking in the corners of your eyes and ready to drown trails down your cheeks.

“I love you.”

You sob. Neville scoots closer to you, gripping the fat of your thigh. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time and you– you’re just so sweet, and lovely, and perfect, and you do everything right, all the time. You could burn the world and I’d praise you for it because you’d have done it perfectly. I watched you be sorted and I knew I was done for; you looked like an angel, my angel. I love you.” He takes a breath. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know.”

The emotion swirls in your chest, you don’t know what it is, you can’t place it, it takes your breath and collects in your throat and you don’t know it, but you know what to say. “I love you, too. So much it hurts.” Your voice breaks through it, a cry caught in your throat.

“Oh.” It’s becoming his go to response with you, you seem to always know how to render him speechless.

~ 𐀔 ~ △⃒⃘ ~ 𐀔 ~

I can admit that this isn’t my best work, my heart wasn’t in it after all the kafuffle it caused, but likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated and extremely encouraging all the same!

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

the hp boys help you calm down

pair: Harry Potter x reader | Ron Weasley x reader | Draco Malfoy x reader | Neville Longbottom x reader | Cedric Diggory x reader | Fred Weasley x reader | George Weasley x reader | Oliver Wood x reader

summery: the hp boys find y/n (she/her) crying/hipper ventilating

mastelist | navigation

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Harry Potter

Harry finds you on the floor of an empty classroom, gasping for breath, and his heart drops. He immediately kneels beside you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. His voice is soft, full of concern. "Just breathe with me, okay?" he says, his green eyes locking with yours. You nod, though tears still threaten to spill. He takes slow, deep breaths, showing you the rhythm to follow. "In... and out. Nice and easy." You focus on his calm presence, mirroring his breaths. Harry doesn’t rush you or overwhelm you with questions; he just stays there, offering his steady support until your breathing evens out and the panic fades.

Ron Weasley

Ron isn’t used to seeing you like this, panicked and struggling for breath. It makes his stomach twist, but he doesn’t hesitate. He crouches down, his voice uncharacteristically soft, trying to ground you. "Hey, hey, I’m here. Just breathe with me, okay?" Your fingers clutch his sleeve, and he holds onto your hand, offering a solid anchor. Ron starts breathing deeply, exaggerated and slow so you can follow along. "That’s it. We’ve got this." Though he's a bit nervous himself, Ron stays focused on you, never letting go of your hand until he sees the tension ease from your face and your breathing return to normal.

Draco Malfoy

Draco’s face pales when he finds you hyperventilating in the hallway, but he doesn’t let fear take over. He sits beside you on the cold floor, one arm wrapping around your shoulders. "Look at me. Just breathe with me, okay?" His tone is firm but gentle, trying to guide you through it. You nod shakily, your breaths still uneven. Draco starts to breathe slowly, leaning in close so you can feel his calm rhythm. "You’re safe. I’m right here." He keeps his voice low and soothing, staying with you until your breathing begins to mimic his, the weight of the panic lifting.

Neville Longbottom

Neville finds you on the floor of the greenhouse, your breaths coming too fast, and it breaks his heart to see you like this. Without a second thought, he kneels down and gently takes your hands in his. "Just breathe with me, okay?" he whispers, his voice full of concern but steady. You meet his eyes, and even though panic still grips your chest, his presence is calming. He breathes slowly, guiding you through the rhythm. "In and out, just like that. You’re doing great." Neville’s calm energy helps ground you, and soon, the tightness in your chest begins to loosen, your breaths syncing with his.

Fred Weasley

Fred’s usual playfulness is gone the moment he finds you in distress, your breath coming too fast. Without hesitation, he crouches down beside you, placing a hand on your back. "Hey, love, just breathe with me, okay?" His voice is soft but filled with determination. You nod, clutching his sleeve as if it’s a lifeline. Fred begins to take exaggerated, slow breaths, his eyes never leaving yours. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. You’ve got this." His steady presence and the warmth of his hand help calm you, and before long, your breathing slows, the panic fading away with Fred right beside you.

George Weasley

George's heart clenches when he finds you sitting on the floor, struggling to catch your breath. He kneels down immediately, brushing your hair back gently. "Hey, love, just breathe with me, okay?" His voice is soft but clear, trying to cut through the haze of panic. You give him a shaky nod, your hand trembling as it reaches for his. George holds it tightly, starting to breathe in slow, deliberate patterns. "In... and out. Nice and slow." With his calm reassurance and his thumb gently rubbing your hand, you start to focus on his rhythm, your breathing finally slowing to match his.

Cedric Diggory

Cedric’s heart skips a beat when he finds you in the corridor, panicked and hyperventilating. He doesn’t hesitate, kneeling beside you and cupping your face gently. "Hey, look at me. Just breathe with me, okay?" His voice is calm and steady, his touch soft. You manage a nod, though the panic still grips you. Cedric begins to breathe slowly, showing you the rhythm to follow. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. That’s it. You’re doing great." His unwavering patience and soft encouragement keep you grounded, and soon, the tension in your chest starts to release as your breathing calms in time with his.

Oliver Wood

Oliver feels his chest tighten when he finds you on the floor of the Quidditch stands, gasping for breath. Without hesitation, he kneels down beside you, his voice gentle but firm. "Hey, breathe with me, okay? Just focus on me." You nod shakily, eyes wide with panic, and Oliver takes your hand in his, grounding you. He starts breathing slowly and deeply, making sure you can see and feel his calm presence. "In... and out. Nice and easy." His strength and steady encouragement help guide you back, your breathing slowing as you mirror his calm rhythm. Oliver stays by your side, reassuring you until the panic fully subsides.