#no sleep + trying to shove info in my head just results in this nonsense

[backonefish]

I’ve concluded that Sebastian hits a milestone birthday (30, 40) and his body’s like “shit I’m supposed to age” and then bam, he’s a decade older

[harrypotter-imaginess]

A/N: I just want to say, for my OG readers that have been reading this since I first posted the headcanon list last year, I love and appreciate y’all so much!! If you want, since this is a long term project, I can add you to the tag list if you like :)

Also Letter commission’s are open until 3/10, so if your interested, price and info are here. 

Based on this Headcanon list (x) : Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! <This is Part 4!>

You sigh, eyes glancing back at your watch.

Maybe it’s off?

You wouldn’t put it past Fred to screw up the time on your watch just so you would show up an hour early to your class, wondering if it was always this dark at eight in the morning.

But if Fred did mess with your watch, how does that explain everyone else? You turn to your right and look at a group of third and fourth years scattered around the room. Surely he couldn’t have changed the time in everyone’s watch.

Though at this point you know better than to assume anything is impossible for Fred Weasley, especially if he’s able to get George on board with his pranks.

You sigh, eyes sweeping over the room again. The chatting has long died down, now it looks like all those late nights in the common room playing exploding snap are finally beginning catching up.

Especially when the class was missing the particularly loud and somewhat entertaining antics of the one and only, Gilderoy Lockhart. It wasn’t that it was particularly fun to watch his nonsensical lessons or anything- but at least it was something to watch. And as long as you were barley competent, you could get by just fine on the “pop quizzes” he had. Though they were really more like magazine quizzes about how well you knew him.

Plus he was pretty good looking, though you would rather die than admit that to Fred or George.

Speaking of your favorite pair of doppelgängers-

You turn to look at your side, the two chair next to you on the long bench are vacant. Well, it’s not like it’s totally unusual for them to skip class. You can count on one hand how many times they’ve been excited to come to defense against the dark arts this year. But-

But... they usually invite you when they do decide to play hooky.

Maybe they didn’t invite you because you’re always persuading them to come to class instead. ‘You don’t want a howler from your Mum now do you?’ You would say, pushing them towards the class.

Maybe they just don’t think you’re fun to be around anymore. No, no, they’re your friends- you can’t start thinking like that, there must be a good reason why-

“Hey (Y/N/N)” George squeezes past you, plopping into the chair next to you with a soft rattle.

His hair’s sticking every which way, his robe is crooked, and his tie isn’t even tied, just hanging limply along his neck. 

“You don’t even have your bag George” you hiss, did he finally get into a fist fight with Draco Malfoy? You’ve told them both not to think too hard about how he called you-

“Wait where’s Fred?” You look to the door, expecting to see a messy head of fire red hair walk through the door, sporting bruises and maybe a grin like his black eye is a gold medal.

But instead, there’s a familiar head of golden hair standing in the doorway. It’s Gilderoy Lockhart. There’s no doubt about it, the image of him is perfect. Of course it’s your professor.

Of course it is.

But there’s something about the way he carries himself? Like he’s still getting used to having legs so short. The way his smile seems a little more...mischievous than usual, that twinkle of absolute delight in those strangely familiar eyes.

“Oh no” you mumble, but George grins from beside you.

“I’m not going to be needing my bag, and neither are you” George whispers in your ear, and you turn to look at him.

They didn’t.

“Good afternoon class, sorry I’m late! I was admiring myself in one of my thirty mirrors and the time just...got away from me.” ‘Professor Lockhart’ says flashing his class the most condescending smile you have ever seen.

“That’s not a lie you know, we did find him admiring himself in the mirror” George whispers, your face is in your hands but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s got a pleased grin on his face.

“It’s why it was so easy to knock him out and shove him into the teachers lounge- he never even saw it coming”

Well at least they didn’t shove him into a broom closet.

“Now class, I would like you to write a list of things you love about me-“ there’s a collective groan and the rustle of parchment but neither you and George don’t move a muscle.

“Four feet at least!” Fred, in his Lockhart-skin-suit bellows, which earns another collective groan from the rest of the class.

“So what, did you draw the short stick, why aren’t you up there?” You ask jerking your head towards Fred, it looks like the more fun part of the prank honestly. It also seems like the sweetest m form of revenge after old Gildy gave you three detention last week for showing up late to class, but you won’t mention that.

George only shrugs.

Honestly ninety percent of this situation was Fred’s poor impulse control. One second they were running late to class, and George was worrying about getting detention because if he has to scrub all those awards for Filch again he won’t be able to hold a quil - and the next thing he knows he’s carrying Lockhart by his feet into the teachers lounge.

“He’s the showman, I’m just the side kick.” George shrugs, it’s been that way since they were kids. Fred would come up with an idea and George would follow his lead.

Not that he’s upset about it. It’s always interesting, he’s hasn’t been bored in years. Still, he can’t help but wonder if they didn’t share the same face, would he and Fred be as close as they are now?

Or would he be just as easily replaced, most likely by Lee Jordan. Well Ron might make a more susceptible accomplice, would anyone do-

“And where would our fearless leader be without his trustworthy sidekicks?” You say, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. Your voice drawing George out of his thoughts.

“Probably in detention” You muse, that or jail, because technically they assaulted their professor, and that’s got to be a serious offense.

George laughs next to you, well you’ve got a point. If it wasn’t for you and him, you three would have been expelled long ago. He’s about to lean over and whisper something in your ear when some interrupts him mid motion.

“Weasley and (L/N), less flirting and more quil movement, yes?” He really sounds like Fred right there, a hint of an accent peaking through. Not that anyone other than you and George seem to notice. They’re all too busy contemplating how embarrassing it must be to get called out for not paying attention by Gilderoy Lockhart of all people.

You manage to not roll your eyes, sifting through your bag until you pull out some parchment.

“Geez four feet? That’s kind of excessive” you mumble while George is holding back laughter so violent he’s actually shaking.

“You know he’s just teasin’ right? It’s not like Lockhart’s actually going to grade these-“ and then a horrible realization dawns on him.

Half of the reason they thought this plan would work is because someone as pompous as Gilderoy Lockhart would never admit that two teenage boys hit him over the head with one of his books, and shoved him on a sofa (after tying his shoe laces together).

No, good old Gildy would go along like nothing had even happened, perhaps he’d even believe that nothing had really happened. Not enough sleep and too much caffeine do result in memory loss. And who can sleep with ‘the heir of Slytherin’ on the loose?

Ordering-sorry, assigning them to write four feet worth of parchment about what they admire about their professor sounds exactly like something he would do.

“Fucking Fred.” George hisses, why did he bloody have to pick four feet? Wouldn’t just one foot have sufficed? But no, the great Fred could never- ‘it adds enthusiasm, it’s all about the drama’ he would say.

Well where’s your god damn drama now that your best friend and brother are about to fail this god forksaken class, all because you couldn’t say one foot instead of f*cking four, George wants to scream.

You sigh, cutting your parchment in half, handing one half to George. You’ve only got four feet on you, you didn’t think you would need any more than that, so the both of you are just going to have to turn in two feet each.

“Sure would be a shame if Fred came back to the dorm and found, oh I don’t know, fifty spiders in his bed” you muse as you pull out two quills, and a bottle of ink. You’ve only got the one bottle, you’ll have to share.

But George isn’t paying any mind to the ink and parchment situation, instead he’s grinning at your suggestion. He always knew you had a wicked streak.

“Yeah it would be a real shame if say, two people were to go down to Hagrid’s hut, collect some drool from Fang, and smear it all over Fred’s robes” You peer at George from the corner of your eye, trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

“Oh well now wouldn’t that just be awful, hypothetically of course” You say, looking down to your parchment

“Truly a tragedy” He responds with a grin.