#nonbinary harry potter

[here-we-go-again-fic]

[itisiives]

[moonyfr]

"They can't all be gay that's unrealistic-"

Yes, bc teenage WIZARDS who can TURN INTO ANIMALS bc of their WEREWOLF friend whom they found in a school for MAGIC is very realistic. Right.

[angarchive]

im going to eat him

[distantdarlings]

ANY FEELINGS // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender-Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* As Theo plucks up the courage to ask you out on a date, you soothe your repressed feelings for the boy by filling your nights with other men.

+ WARNINGS - Mentions of smut! (But no actual). Sexual descriptions, language, gender-neutral reader, conflict between Cormac and Theo, very brief description of a fight (non-graphic), kissing, kissing w/o consent, not proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Consume - Chase Atlantic

- - -

“Dude, you're gonna have to grow some balls at some point…”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” 

Theo laid a slap to the back of one of his best mate’s heads. Enzo was a great friend, but he tended to be a bit too judgmental when it came to you. 

Theo had had some sort of feelings for you since he first met you, but whether they were platonic or romantic or…something else, he wasn’t sure. 

Enzo seemed to be completely confident that Theo’s feelings for you—whatever they may be categorized as—could be chalked up to one thing only: love. 

Every time Theo heard Enzo pleading with him to just ask you out or grab your hand while he was walking next to you, he lost more patience. The boy sitting next to him was stupid, but sometimes he wondered if he should even be permitted to attend Hogwarts. 

“I don’t know, man,” Mattheo piped up. “Maybe Enzo’s right…you seem pretty into them every time we all hang out.” The dark boy diagonal from Theo shrugged his shoulders. 

“How would either of you know how I’m feeling?” Theo asked, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because you fucking gawk at them everytime they’re around—I mean, you’re practically fucking drooling,” Enzo said, pursing his lips.

“Whatever, I am not.” 

“‘Not,’” Enzo mouthed to Mattheo, making air quotes with his fingers. 

Theo clenched his jaw and shoved the boy over, before getting to his feet.

The three of them had been sitting next to the Black Lake during dinner, hoping to get away from some of the noisy chatter in the Great Hall. 

“Look, just try it out,” Mattheo suggested, squinting against the sun. “Think about it tonight—”

“When you’re alone in bed and about to rub one out!” Enzo cut Mattheo off. Theo glared down at him in disgust. Just before he could react to what the boy had said, Mattheo smacked Enzo on the back of the head.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Mattheo started back. “I meant to mull it over as you’re about to fall asleep tonight. That’s generally when I can get the most thinking done. It’s quiet and nonjudgmental.” 

He glared over at Enzo.

“Alright, then,” Theo sighed, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “I guess I will.”

Once the three of them had separated and gone their own ways, Theo decided to make a change to his evening plans.

He had originally planned on following Mattheo down to the Three Broomsticks for a mug of Butterbeer, but—upon the dark-haired boy’s suggestion of staying in—he decided to head back into the castle.

He’d have a bit of a shower then take an early night so he could think about what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do about you. 

It wasn’t just the constant pressure from Enzo to ask you out that had you circling around his thoughts. He didn’t need the badgering from his friends to think about you. 

Theo thought of you all the time anyway, with little being prioritized over you. The confusing nature of the feelings came from the fact that his thoughts of you were so often varied. 

One minute, he’d be thinking of your laugh—the way you tilted your head back, eyes clenched, with mouth wide, smile glistening. Next, he’d be imagining you naked above him, begging for him to give you more.

It’d been this way forever. He wanted you in more ways than one, but just one of those ways would ruin every other. 

If Theo admitted that he wanted to be the last face you saw every night and the first you saw every morning, and you rejected him, he’d never heal from it. He needed you too much in any way to let something get in the way of that. 

So he’d held back for years and years, until, apparently, he’d started to become a little too obvious. At least, enough so that Mattheo and Enzo had noticed. 

Now, with the support—and borderline bullying—from them, he was feeling confident. Like he could actually ask you to be his.

Still, he hesitated.

He made his way through the castle, counting the sconces on the wall and running through example admissions he could give you. If he were to tell you how he felt, he couldn’t fuck it up. 

You deserved the best of him, if you even deserved him at all. Theo wasn’t much compared to you, but everything he felt for you was genuine and that wasn’t something that was so easy to explain to Mattheo and Enzo, assholes as they were.

He stopped before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, mumbled the password, and made his way through, hardly straying from his imaginary conversations.

Distractedly, he headed upstairs and prepared himself a shower. 

Mattheo said he thought the best while laying in bed, but Theo wondered if the shower might be a better alternative for him. He worried that he might not ever get to sleep if he let all of his thoughts pool into one part of his day. 

So, he shed his clothes, pulled the water as hot as it would go and stepped beneath the boiling rain. 

Between the steam and the warmth, he could’ve fallen asleep, but the thoughts of telling you how he felt kept him wired enough to focus. 

There were a thousand possibilities swirling through his head, trying to guide him in the right direction. 

He weighed a couple options back and forth, trying to let imagined scenarios play out with each, but no matter what he said or did, it always ended with him embarrassing himself, you hating him, or him accidentally setting something on fire. Never mind that last option—there was a brief consideration of fireworks. 

He let the water run across his shoulders and slip down his chest. He applied a bit of hair oils to his hands, letting the personal concoction he’d whipped up settle in his palm. He’d always had pretty dry hair but it tended to get a bit oily during this time of year, leading him to switch over to a different product—or, rather, a combination of products.

He lathered the oils in his hair and closed his eyes.

The massage his fingers applied to his head was just relaxing enough to keep his mind occupied for a second. He didn’t stop thinking of you—he never did—but he was allowed a few moments’ peace. He accepted the nurturing sensation, attempting to ignore his imagination trying to replace his hands with yours.

Then, suddenly, he got it! He knew exactly how to tell you how he felt. 

He quickly rinsed all of the remaining bubbles from his hair and scrubbed the rest of his body, before shutting the water off and whispering a small spell. In an instant, the wetness coating his body evaporated into thin air, and he was bone-dry. 

He slipped his pajamas on, gathered his day clothes, and made his way back to the dorm. 

If he was going to do this, he wanted to make sure he did it properly. He had about a thousand ideas, a notebook, quill, and ten hours to kill. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

- - -

You set yourself down at the end of the Slytherin table and poured a bit of coffee into your mug.  

With the night you had just before, you could use a bit of caffeine. Nothing you had expected to happen yesterday did, and everything you hadn’t expected to happen had. In ten fold. 

Between the three tests, the spilled pumpkin juice all over your bottoms, the near-fight between your best friend, Draco, and some Gryffindor, you had had enough by the end of all of it. 

You had wanted to sleep after all of the activity. But, instead, you had Cormac McLaggen. 

And you had gotten all of him. From his chestnut curls to his strong arms to his hips moving against yours. Thank Merlin he was a Quidditch player with immense stamina, else the two of you never would have lasted past the third or fourth rounds. 

A smirk appeared across your face at the thought of him and everything he had given you last night. Even with how insufferable he was as soon as he decided to talk, his mouth seemed proficient in other things. 

You sipped your coffee as students began to file in, lazily scuffing their feet across the floor, urgent to get a muffin. 

Despite your urge to busy your mind with schoolwork and your plans for the day, it kept falling back to that stupid Gryffindor boy.

His fingers weren’t the most skilled, nor was the rest of his body, but he followed instructions like he was born to do so. 

But even though he had done so well for you last night, and even though he’d seemed so eager to please, your mind couldn’t help but stray when you were with him last night. It couldn’t help but stray even now. Stray to a different boy.

Theodore Nott. The most gorgeous boy you’d ever laid your eyes on. Draco had introduced you to him during your first year; he’d said their fathers knew each other. Needless to say, you’d knew you wanted to be with him from the moment you saw him.

Even when you had no others, Theodore Nott was your goal. 

Seconds into thinking about Theo, and you were already thinking about his body, and replacing Cormac’s touch with his. Just like you had last night.

Perhaps it was unfair to Cormac, but you both knew you hadn’t hooked up for ‘love’—more like mutual attraction and convenience. 

You were thinking about the way Cormac had gasped above you and the way his mouth had felt on you, then suddenly it was Theo’s mouth where his had been, and Theo’s hands holding yours to the bed. 

It was enough to make you readjust in your seat just a bit. Even your fantasies of Theo made you red in the face. How pathetic. 

But, Merlin, if it wasn’t so nice to picture…his hands running down—

“Mind if I sit here?”

You glanced up suddenly, using every bit of will power in your body not to choke and spew coffee everywhere. 

If it wasn’t Theodore fucking Nott standing right before your eyes, you might have mistook him for an angel. Your eyes widened instinctually.

“E-er, yeah, Theo…take a seat,” you said with a forced smile. 

You watched him like a hawk as he seemed to effortlessly slide against the table, taking his seat before the hundreds of breakfast items lined along the oaken surface. 

If you didn’t know any better, you figured that he knew you were staring at him over your coffee mug, but he was ignoring it. He seemed to be considering his meal options, rather than focusing on you.

“So, how are you?” you asked, swallowing thickly. He glanced up as if he’d forgotten you were there. 

“Oh, good…yeah, pretty good. How are you?” 

You felt crazy. There was no way he’d just shown up like this while you’d been imagining him in the dirtiest scenarios—it couldn’t just be a coincidence. Maybe he was a Legilimens. Or one of his friends was. Shit, wasn’t Mattheo Riddle one? 

You smiled nervously. “Uh, yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good.” He selected a mug and poured some tea.

“Yeah…” You took a sip of your coffee.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about—” 

A kiss was pressed to the outer point of your jawline. Slightly rough, cracked lips with a hint of stubble across the chin. Warm breath. The scent of leather polish and something earthy. Shit.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he said against your ear, sending chills down your arms. Perhaps you had been wrong. Perhaps Cormac had been interested in more of a relationship with you, past the purely physical aspect. 

You swore Theo’s eyes widened and his face fell. He seemed almost shocked or disappointed. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Hey,” you whispered back, a bit of a smile spreading across your lips at the familiar smell. Despite your lack of real feelings for him, Cormac did make you pretty happy, at least on a surface level. 

“I’m gonna grab something to eat then head back to bed if you want to join me…,” he let his voice trail off in a joking tone as he slipped away. He headed towards the Gryffindor table, never looking back. You watched him as he walked for a few moments then turned back to Theo.

“So, McLaggen, huh?” he asked. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes were surveying your face. He seemed to be searching for something.

“Oh, we—er, I mean, not really,” you chuckled.

“What does that mean?” He didn’t laugh in return.

“We kind of just—”

“Whatever…it’s none of my business.” He cut you off. He took one large sip from his mug, draining its contents before turning to go. You hopped to your feet.

“Theo, I—” you started to call after him, but he was already gone. Fuck, was he mad?

You sat back down and wrapped your fingers back around your cup. Something in you deflated like it had been poked with a needle—maybe it was your heart…or your stomach. You weren’t sure.

Cormac fluttered about the Gryffindor table, talking here and there, and grabbing bits of food. Your eyes followed him, watching his every movement. 

You could see the muscles rippling beneath his pajama tee shirt—a gray cotton number that fit him in all the right places; could see the honey curls that curled over his eyes; could see the way his eyes flicked over to you every so often. Damn, the way he looked at you was so good…

But Theo was something else entirely. If Cormac was fire, Theo was electricity. 

Theo replaced everything—Cormac’s eyes, lips, fingers. It was as if every memory was being replaced by him and there was nothing you could do to control it. 

Then, before you could blink, and realize what was happening, Theo was walking back through the door. And also making a bee line for Cormac. Shit. 

You stood slowly, waiting to see if you should intervene—or to see if you were just imagining the whole Theo-interested-in-you situation. 

A few moments passed where Theo said one thing, Cormac said another, Theo pointed at you, Cormac said another thing and then laughed. Whatever he said earned a few chuckles from his friends sitting around him. 

There was a beat. 

Then Theo punched Cormac as hard as he could. 

You gasped and rose to run toward the group that had now begun to swarm around Theo. It seemed that whoever had been laughing with Cormac obviously supported him enough to try and attack Theo, because once you’d gotten over there, they’d already laid a couple punches to Theo. 

Never mind he was up against three other guys, he was holding his own. Every time they successfully landed a punch, Theo would fire back with one of his own. And he’d fire back hard. 

“Stop!” you shouted, attempting to force yourself between them. Without looking, Theo spared an arm for a moment long enough that he could keep you pushed back behind him. 

“No, Theo! Cormac! That’s enough!” You struggled against Theo. 

Finally, you’d wrestled enough that you slipped free from Theo’s guard and slipped past them. You pushed him back as hard as you could, and turned to face the other boys as quickly as you could so they wouldn’t force themselves past you. 

“All of you stop it right now!” You shouted, panting heavily from the effort it took to push Theo away. “You come with me.”

You pulled Theo behind you by his hand and exited through the looming doors of the Great Hall, leaving Cormac and his goons in shock. In their defense, a lot had happened in about five minutes.

Once through the doors, you Disapparated quickly, never letting go of Theo’s hand. You landed in your dormitory. 

A quick survey of the room and a mumbled locking spell later, the two of you were alone and Theo was bleeding. 

You conjured a bit of gauze and ointment from somewhere in the hospital wing, promising you’d return it later.

Sitting Theo down gently on the edge of your bed, you began to gently apply a bit of the soaked gauze to the cut on his cheek and the blood seeping from his nose. He hissed ever so slightly at the stinging, but kept his eyes on you.

“Why did you hit him?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. His eyes moved away from you.

A few moments of silence passed. The minute you thought he might never say something, he spoke up.

“McLaggen’s not a good guy.”

You scoffed. “Really? That’s all you have to say? You hit Cormac because he’s ‘not a good guy?’ There’s billions of people who aren’t good people that I don’t go around decking every time I see them! Why did you really hit him, Theo?”

You stared him down, demanding an answer with every glance he cast your way. 

“Because of what he said about you.” 

You were taken aback. “W-what did he say?”

***

Theo walked out of the Great Hall, trying his best to swallow the rage that was building up in his throat. Of course you were with someone. You were absolutely perfect. It was false hope for him to have thought he’d ever had a chance with you. He threw his plans from his mind. 

As he stormed through the stone halls, flashes of the way McLaggen had come up right behind you and touched you like he owned you, pissed him off so badly he was shaking. 

The way his lips had touched your cheek, the way you’d smiled so softly, the way you’d looked at him afterwards. It was clear you pitied him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault. If you wanted McLaggen, that was fine. He just needed…he just needed to make sure you were being treated right. 

On a whim, he turned back around before he could stop himself, and marched back into the Great Hall. 

If Theo couldn’t have you, he at least needed to ensure that whoever did have you was treating you right. You deserved it more than anyone did.

He spotted McLaggen leaned around a couple other guys, chattering and laughing. Honestly, just the sight of the jock pissed him off. 

“Hey! McLaggen!” The dirty blonde boy glanced up, eyebrows quickly shifting from shocked to on his guard. 

“Nott.” He nodded his head toward Theo. The boys gathered around him seemed to look up to, always prepared for some kind of conflict.

If they hadn’t known any better, Theo would have guessed they assumed this was a Quidditch issue. But it wasn’t. 

“Can I talk to you alone?” Theo asked.

“What for? If this is about the Quidditch pitch this weekend, McGonagall already said—” McLaggen started.

“It’s not about that,” Theo interrupted him. He was right, Cormac did think this was a Quidditch issue. Why else would Theo want to interact with him?

“Oh, wait…this is about them, isn’t it?” McLaggen laughed, nodding his head in your direction. Theo’s jaw twitched at the thought of him talking about you.

“I just wanted to say that they’re really important to me, and I want you to take care of them.”

“What—are you their dad?” McLaggen snorted.

“No, man. But they’re a very close friend of mine and I want to ensure that you’re going to be good to them.” Theo pointed in your direction without thinking about it. 

“Who are we talking about again?” Theo’s jaw clenched at his response.

“Man, come on. I’m not asking for a lot. I care about my friend.”

“Are you sure they’re just your friend? I could’ve sworn they screamed your name last night.” 

The blood drained from Theo’s face as he heard McLaggen’s words. He was stunned for a moment.

“What did you say?” Theo muttered, barely able to form words.

“I said, ‘when I was fucking them last night, I think they said your name.’ It didn’t really matter anyways, because they were just a distraction for me. They’re not the prettiest thing, but good enough when they’re on their knees—”

Theo couldn’t handle it anymore. Without a second thought or a blink, Theo swung his fist at Cormac’s jaw as hard as he could. He didn’t know who this fucker thought he was, but he wasn’t going to talk about you like that. 

Somewhere distantly, he thought he heard you shout his name, but he’d started something he couldn’t just walk away from. 

***

“That’s what he said about you… I couldn’t just let him get away with that. Someone had to show him some consequences.” 

From the beginning, you had insisted that whatever was happening between you and Cormac was purely situational, but somehow his words still hurt. 

You were flashing between angry and sad and hurt and mortified—you didn’t know what to feel. Had you really screamed Theo’s name last night? The fact that you genuinely couldn’t say whether you did or not, made you scared. 

What did Theo think? Was he disgusted?

“Theo, I think the asshole was just trying to ramp you up,” you chuckled nervously. “I didn’t…s-scream your name last night.” The last words were little more than a whisper. You averted your eyes, finding the stone floor quite interesting all of a sudden. You couldn’t believe you were having to say that.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Theo breathed. He seemed much closer to you now, then he had been before. His breaths mingled with yours slowly…melodically…

Your eyes flickered between him and the floor, only viewing him through split seconds where his darkened skin flashed against the sunlight outside. Fuck, he was beautiful. 

How many times had you imagined tracing that olive skin? 

“Er, yes, of course,” you said distantly. “You can ask me anything, Theo.”

“Have…you ever…” 

His words came out thickened and slow, as if they were honey dripping from his lips. They poured wetly through his teeth, hot and searing. You could feel them cover your body, pouring delicately over your skin and covering your mind. The syllables that left his lips had your head spinning. You felt as if you might be sick.

“...had any feelings…”

His lips shuddered slightly between words, his eyes were looking directly into yours, the contact never wavering. You had plucked up the courage to stare up into those oceanic features, but just enough to get the gist of what he was asking. You couldn’t bear to look at him as you debated your answer.

“...for me…?”

Fuck.

Your eyelids fluttered closed. A deep sigh pushed from your nostrils as your lips pinched together. If you had known that sleeping with Cormac McClaggen would somehow set into motion the timeline that would out your long-lived crush on Theodore Nott, you’d never have said yes to the bastard. Besides, it wasn’t as if you weren’t thinking of Theo the whole time—so much so that you apparently had “screamed his name.” Merlin, this was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you. 

“Theo, uh… I don’t know if this is a good—” you started.

“Please,” he shuddered, his gentle hands pressing softly to either cheek. He tilted your head upwards to force more eye contact. The physical touch had you reeling. You had never been so close to him before, except for in your mind. “If you have, I need to know. I will not force anything from you, but I need to know.”

Your eyes flickered back and forth nervously as you summoned any strength that was left floating around in your fleeting esteem. You wanted so badly to tell him. Tell him about all those dinners you’d left early because your mind was so clouded with thoughts of him, about all of the classes you’d been called on to answer a question you weren’t even aware was being asked because you were too busy sketching him in your books, about all of the nights your fingers had slipped beneath your silk covers to pleasure yourself from a mere thought of him. 

A glimpse of him in your mind’s eye had been more than enough for years and years, but now—with your head cradled beneath his strong hands—you feared it’d never be enough again.

“Yes,” you choked out. The word came out small and harmless, as if you’d been holding your breath for too long before letting it out. 

And before you were able to wrench your face from his grasp, he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

A muffled yelp of surprise slipped out between the two of you, but he swallowed the noise with a deep sigh. Despite never imagining this was how your confession of love would go, you couldn’t help but appreciate that it was happening now. 

Everything in you urged you to pull away and demand he leave for assuming you wanted to be kissed. But the child harboring a deep love for the boy they’d spotted on the train all those years ago pushed you to curl your fingers into the soft, brown strands atop his head.

A slight moan, almost in that of relief, was pressed into your mouth. His hands released your face and wrapped around your waist, clutching tightly to your waistband. He pulled you closer to him, his chest bumping yours. 

He wanted you, he wanted you, he wanted you, and he’d fucking gotten you. He reminded himself to punch Enzo and Mattheo in the gut when he got away from you. That was, if he ever pulled away from you. The feel of your lips on his was something out of a dream—one that his wildly imaginative mind could not have even mustered up. 

And finally, after years of debating, a shitty one-night stand, and thousands of shower pep-talks, Theo had finally worked up the nerve to taste your lips. And you had finally worked up the nerve to swallow your pride and confess your love to Theo, rather than projecting it through other vectors. 

And though the two of you would eventually pull apart, giggle quietly to one another, and announce your newfound infatuation for each other to all of your friends the following day, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was quite right. Everything had fallen into place except for one thing. 

Theo, as you would soon come to learn, always knew when something was wrong—oftentimes even when you didn’t realize it yourself. He would come to prove this many times over the following years of your relationship, but none better than when he had managed to learn a spell just for you. 

A spell that completely evaporated all of Cormac McClaggen’s clothes from his dormitory—and his body—whilst in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“That’ll show the fucker,” Theo had whispered into your ear amongst the loud bickering and laughing. 

- - -

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[vinylfoxbooks]

December 1 | wc: 1,008 Cold | @into-the-jeggyverse Snowflakes | @noblehouseofgay November 30 - Surface | @stag-microfic

“What are you two doing?” James asks, venturing out of the hallway after having shed their coat and boots, rubbing their hands together in attempts to warm them. Regulus and Harry are sprawled out on the floor, Harry wearing the old paint shirt that Regulus graciously donated to their son when he showed an interest in doing artistic things with him. 

“Don’t look, papa!” Harry squeals, whipping his head around, “Do something else.” 

James smiles, taken slightly aback, “Oh, I’m not allowed to see?” The kid shakes his head violently, so they hum, “Alright then, I’ll just go about my day.” And they disappear into the kitchen to start on some dinner. 

They’re acutely aware of the sounds of their son and husband in the other room, whispering to each other and Harry giggling all the time as they make their dinner. It’s almost upsetting that they have to interrupt the two and their fun by calling them to dinner once it’s all finished and the plates are set out. 

It’s a good dinner, the three of them talking happily and James telling them dramatic renditions of their day at work. And when it finishes, the two of them sneak off to the living room while James takes the time to clean up. They’ve just finished wiping down the kitchen island when Harry comes racing in with Regulus just behind him. The man helps the boy climb up onto one of the stools of the island and Harry slams something down onto the cold surface, “Surprise!” 

James grins, opening their mouth in dramatic surprise, “Oh my goodness, is this what you two have been working on all evening?” Harry nods rather dramatically, his head moving in a way reminiscent of a bobble head. James grins down at him and leans over the island, towel thrown over their shoulder, to look at it. 

It’s a card, with dark blue paint streaks making up the background. On the front of it are several snowflakes coated with sloppy glitter and small dots of white that is possibly snow. James takes a moment to look over the front of the card, gently tracing their fingers over the textured front. After a couple seconds, they open the card and take a moment to read it. There’s a drawing of three people-like figures on the left of the card, holding hands with snow coming down onto them. The right of the card has Harry’s sloppy, kid-like handwriting all over the top three-quarters of it, with Regulus’ gentler, cursive handwriting just under it transcribing for the boy. 

Papa, 

You are so good and nice and I love you a whole lot. Thank you for being the best papa in the world.

Harry

James smiles softly at the words, once again tracing their fingers over it before they gently put the card down onto the island and make their way around it to pull their son into a hug. It’s a tight hug, one that Harry jokingly complains about and James lets him out of when he starts squirming. When he’s back seated on the stool, James leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, “Thank you baby, I love it.” 

And later that night, when Harry is in bed and the card is put on the fridge with a magnet, and James and Regulus are leaning into each other on the couch, Regulus hums and leans forward. He pulls another card from the coffee table, handing it to James. 

This one is done by neater hands, decorated with a beautifully done painting of the tree that they have set up in the living room already. Once again, James takes a moment to stare at it, taking in the details of the incredible painting by their husband. Then they open it, and there’s a drawing that he had done of Harry in that moment on the left of it, another one of James sitting in front of a fireplace with a guitar in their hands underneath it -- both pictures that Regulus had drawn and attached to it. The right has a much longer note. 

Jamie

You mean the world to me. You are kind, loving, open, and you’re always looking out for the people around you. I’m grateful everyday that you took a chance on me and were willing to open your home and your child to me when we started dating. I’m bad with my words, you know this, and I couldn’t even begin to express the pure amount of what I feel for you in words. I hope that I can prove to you what I feel through actions and through my love for you. 

Your star,

Regulus

James feels tears filling their eyes, blinking rapidly. They stare at the card for a while, until Regulus gently puts his hand on their thigh, “Jamie?”

James tears their eyes from the card, looking at their husband -- stunning in the lighting of the fireplace and the Christmas lights -- staring at him for a while before muttering, “Thank you so much, Reg.” 

Regulus is quiet for a moment, “Do you like it?”

“I love it more than anything,” they shake their head, “Can I ask what made you two do this? And why didn't you give it to me earlier.” 

Regulus hums, “Harry’s class is focusing on appreciation for the people in their life. They made cards for their teacher and it made him want to make a card for you. I imagine that he’s going to be asking for help with a card for me soon. I figured that since I was helping him make one, I would make one for you as well. I didn’t give it to you earlier because I was waiting for it to dry and I didn’t want to take Harry’s spotlight. He was really excited to give it to you.” 

“You’re so fucking sweet,” James says, felling overwhelmed with their affection towards him, “I love you so fucking much.” And they surge forward and pull Regulus into a kiss.

Dec 2

[corwnvus]

Some dorlene!!

I hate how I draw marlene, one day I will draw her exactly how I see her.

Dorcas is gorgeous though!

[hp-hcs]

he’s my girl — golden retriever! theo nott x genderfluid! reader

requested by 🦕!

it’s 2am let me be delulu and imagine theo as a golden retriever white boy k tysm

very short and very unedited bc i’m very sleepy xx

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Who in Merlin’s name are you?”

You frowned, your fingers pausing halfway through their task of buckling your bookbag. “What’s your deal, babe?”

Theo blinked. “…Y/n?”

“In the flesh,” you said dryly, turning back around to your Transfiguration class’ desk and gathering up the last of your things.

Theo just stared.

“Y/n?”

“What, Theodore?”

He blinked again. “Why are you— why are you wearing a skirt?”

“Because it’s part of the uniform, Theodore.”

The poor boy looked so confused, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “I— uh— okay. You look pretty.”

“Thank you, darling.”

~~~

“Are you still my boyfriend?”

You stiffened as he approached your table in the library and sat down across from you, immediately jumping on the defensive. “Are you already breaking up with me? We’ve barely been together two days, Nott.”

“What? No! No— just—” Theo floundered, desperately trying to not come off as a grade-A douchebag. “Uh— just— are you my boyfriend? Or my girlfriend?”

You paused. “What, like— right now?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“Girlfriend.”

“Okay. Do you wanna go get lunch now?”

~~~

“…and my girlfriend, Y/n—”

“Boyfriend.”

“Wh— uh. Yeah. Uh. Boyfriend. Right. Anyways. So. My boyfriend, Y/n—”

~~~

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You were stuck in detention with Theo, writing lines, when you’d been struck by sudden and aggressive gender dysphoria.

You normally would’ve just Transfigured your uniform skirt into a pair of trousers, but McGonagall had confiscated your wand before you started your detention.

After a solid minute, Theo couldn’t help but notice your continued squirming. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“Dysphoria,” you grumbled, wiping your lip gloss-covered lips on the back of your hand to remove the faint glittery substance.

Despite your patient attempt earlier in the day to explain the concept of gender fluidity to him, Theo still didn’t quite grasp it. But he was doing his best.

“Ah. Is it—” He hesitated. “Is it the…skirt?”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “But I don’t have my wand to Transfigure it.”

Theo pondered on how to help you. Surely there was something he could do, right?

~~~

A wolf whistle pierced through the air.

“Lookin’ good, Nott!”

Theo did a little twirl as his friends all cheered and clapped, baffled by the sight of their friend showing up to dinner in the Great Hall, fresh out of detention, in a skirt.

You followed into the Great Hall after him, a small smile on your face, wearing his uniform trousers on your body.

[spiderliliez]

Apologizing on behalf of all the sneaky snakes 😂 EMMA D’ARCY & OLIVIA COOKE Interview by Film Inside

[+] EMMA D’ARCY [GIF Collection] ✨ [+] COOKIE [GIF Collection] ✨ [+] ..more on “House of the Dragon” 🔥

[queerism1969]

[naurimastaur]

Gingerism

Summary: In which George and Fred devise a plan to trick y/n into admitting their feelings for George

Pairing: George weasley x nonbinary!reader

Tw: my attempt at writing xx

Please don’t take this seriously this one is just for fun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Georgie?” Fred called out smacking the back of George’s head in the process. “Are you going to sit there like a stupid git for the rest of your life staring at them, or are you actually going to do something about it?” George sort of fancied his best friend y/n. They were awkward. He was awkward. It was a mess.

“I dunno, I just, what If I ruin everything?” He replied defeated, an almost foreign response coming from the twins, who in their approach to everything, were annoyingly cocky.

“I don’t doubt that,” Fred replied unhelpful. It was in his nature to be a dickhead at all times.“But this is y/n we’re talking about! We’ll just ban them from the burrow or something if they say no.” There was a reason no one went to the twins for advice.

George looked to his brother, deadpan. Fred looked back, grinning.

“ Or,” he suddenly lit up, an idea brewing in his head. “what if we get our hands on some of that amortentia thing? Say we need their help and before you know it theyre all blah blah blah dreamy George smell and we’ll know!!!!” It was almost certainly a failing plan, but it was better than anything George had in mind and sadly he shared his brother’s brain cells. Or lack thereof.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ OI y/n!” Fred called out. “ George and I are testing out a new product and we would be honoured if you and your royal nose gave it a try. It’s a real business investment!” His accent mocking that of a commercial salesman from the muggle tvs.

“Fred Weasley if you think I’d willingly stick my face anywhere near something you have made, you are a bigger idiot than you make yourself out to be,” they responded. Having been best friends with the twins for five years, they had long learnt their lesson on trust and why exactly not to place it in gingers. They gave one last unimpressed look and walked away.

Fred and George shared a look. Perhaps if they actually thought plans through they wouldn’t be in this position right now.

“ Well hey!” Fred said “ At least they spoke to you! That’s a step!”

“No you git, they spoke to you.”

“ Yes but you look like me so it’s all the same,” Fred replied, once again trying to lighten the mood. “ What if we get Hermione to try it? They won’t suspect anything if it comes from her.” Thus another plan equally as devastating was formed.

It only took a couple of hours of threats and promises no one intended to keep to get Hermione on board. She agreed based on the terms that the twins would leave her alone to revise after. Short time pain for long term gain some would say.

“Hey y,n!” Hermione smiled ever as friendly, walking over to where y/n was in the great hall. “Im sorry to bother you but we’ve been assigned this potion and I can’t seem to figure out the ingredients. I was thinking since you’re a fifth year you might know them?” Hermione was as good at lying as the twins were at making plans.

“ The twins didn’t set you up for this did they?” Y/n replied unconvinced.

“ No! Merlin no! I’m really stressed over this y/n and I really thought you could help me but if you can’t take me seriously I’ll ask elsewhere.” Maybe Hermione wasnt that bad after all.

“Oh no I’m sorry! Of course I’ll help. Alright I smell rain and-,” they paused after seeing a tuft of ginger hair appearing from under one of the tables from the corner of their eye, a pair of brown eyes following, most certainly that of Fred weasley. Hermione, the brightest witch of her age, seemed to have fallen victim to a Weasley scheme. Depressing. Y/n decided they weren’t going to let themself miss out on the fun.

“And?” Hermione near shouted, clearly trying to direct the attention back to herself but forgetting human social skills in the process.

“And-Oh! This last smell is kind of like husky?” They said uncertain. “I totally get why you couldn’t figure it out. I’m so sure I’ve smelt it before though.” Hermione quickly responded with a ‘mhm’, unsure where this was going and uninterested all the same.

“Oh I know! This smells like Snape’s hair! I can almost taste the grease,” they replied with the most genuine smile they could manage. They had nothing against Hermione, but this awkward, subtle form of revenge was far more entertaining than they had anticipated.

Hermione paused, clearly filled with regret and remorse for what she had inserted herself into. “You-.” She exhaled before starting again. ”You know what professor Snape’s hair smells like?” She replied cringing but slightly curious. Maybe she could buy the professor shampoo or something to get on his good side, after all Gryffindor needs all the house points they can get.

“Oh yeah I’ve taken a couple of sniffs before when he wasn’t looking,” y/n grinned. ”Do you think he noticed?” Now Hermione was just disturbed. She stared blankly at y/n before taking the potion from their grasp and walking away. This is what she gets for choosing to socialise instead of revising.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting in the common room was George, an accomplished grin set on his face when Hermione walked in, which slowly faded when he saw her face. Not that that wasn’t his usual reaction when he saw the know-it-all.

“So?” He questioned fishing for a response. “How’d it go?”

Hermione stared blankly back at him.

“Unless you’re professor snape it seems they dont have any interest.”

George was really beginning to regret his existence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: this was way longer than I had anticipated and was also marinating in the drafts much like the nits in Snape’s hair <3

While you’re here check out a prank to die for

@thescrunkler

[moutainrusing]

outsider POV

265 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Father’s Day was in a week, so Ms. Venturi had decided to make cards with her year one class.

She was walking between desks, complimenting the children profusely for their original decorating and elegant handwriting. She also had to bend down and gently correct their spelling, something she hated, because they were kids! And they were still doing wonderfully! Why did spelling even matter, the phonetics were… kind of right?

Ms. Venturi supposed this was her fault, though. Her decision to be a teacher and all.

She walked by Harry’s desk, and frowned when she saw him only making one card.

“Hi, Harry,” she crouched beside him. “I love the flower headband you’ve given to that awesome wolf.”

“Thanks!” Harry beamed.

Ms. Venturi returned the smile, watching him work for a minute. Finally, she said, “You can make two cards for each of your dads, if you want.”

Harry frowned, “I don’t have two dads.”

Ms. Venturi tilted her head. “You don’t?”

“Nope,” Harry popped his ‘p’. “Moony’s my dad, but Padfoot’s my parent, ‘cause they’re… them.”

“Oh!” Ms. Venturi smiled in understanding. “I understand that. Do you have a Parent’s Day to celebrate Padfoot then?”

“Yeah!” Harry nodded eagerly. “May, the first Sunday. ‘Cause their birthday’s November third, and I wanted them to get two days to celebrate, like Moony does!” Harry clarified, “Moony’s birthday’s March tenth, and Father’s Day’s in June, so I celebrate my dad two days!”

Ms. Venturi grinned at the adorable kid in front of her. “They’re both lucky to have you celebrating them, Harry.”

“I know,” he agreed solemnly.

[360degreesasthecrowflies]

So JK Rowling, following starting her own cis-woman only rape survivors service in Edinburgh, and following leading a campaign of hate and persecution against the (POC) head of the other survivors' center which is trans inclusive, leading to her resignation (including racistly suggesting that because her gender recognition certificate was obtained in a non-UK country it wasn't valid; that only a UK one would be valid) - is now campaigning for the trans inclusive center to be defunded unless it too starts to only treat cis women.

This center employs nonbinary case workers including afab and is currently the only center providing services for trans and nonbinary survivors in Edinburgh.

And although JK Rowling already runs another center just for cis women, that isn't enough for her.

She wants trans women and nonbinary people to have no service at all, and trans and nonbinary caseworkers, care workers and support staff to be made unemployed and not have anywhere else to work.

And yet she still claims to not be transphobic.

She's a wicked woman.

[angarchive]

heyy haiii *throws this at you* byee

[my-castles-crumbling]

Headcanon that genderfluid/nonbinary/gender nonconforming Sirius Black is terrified to tell their friends about how they're feeling. Their whole life, all they've heard about was being the "oldest boy" the "male heir" how they would someday be the "patriarch." And all the messages about being masculine, about being tough and not crying, about being rugged and emotionless and strong, constantly flow through their brain.

But then one day they just break when they see that Marlene has left a little bottle of black nail polish in the Common Room, and they sneak off to their dorm to try it out.

But their hands are shaking because they've never done this before and they're nervous about being caught and then, of course, Remus Lupin walks in to see them swearing and getting polish all over their hands.

And Remus just quietly grabs the little brush and calmly helps them paint their left hand, not judging or questioning.

And it turns into a ritual once a week- Remus painting, Sirius eventually becoming comfortable enough to open up, to say that maybe they want to wear a skirt or some eyeliner. That maybe...maybe they aren't a boy. Not in the way other people are.

They feel safe enough to tell Remus, and Remus just admires them all the more.

[vinylfoxbooks]

October 26 - Remember | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 735

“I remember you from somewhere.” 

Regulus looks up from his desk. He had wanted nothing more than to go back to his quarters with his book and tuck in for the night, except his idiot nephew -- he only says this because he’s upset that his night has been ruined and Draco has a hand to play in it -- got into a fight with the Potter boy, landing them both in detention. Unfortunately, Remus isn’t allowed to hold detention when Harry Potter is involved because of their close relationship, so Regulus is stuck with them because he was the most convenient teacher.

It’s a fascination to Regulus that Remus isn’t allowed to handle detention with Potter, but Regulus is allowed to manage detention that has to do with his nephew. At least he and Draco are actually blood related, not like how Remus is Harry’s non-biological uncle. 

Either way, here he is. Managing detention, when he had nothing to assign the boys. So they’re scrubbing cauldrons, and Regulus isn’t allowed to leave them to it, because whenever these two idiots are stuck in detention together, they end up fighting even more. 

“My brother is your godfather, Potter,” Regulus sighs, “Of course you recognise me, I look similar to him.”

“He’s also been our teacher for years,” Dracos spits, and Regulus heaves a breath. He loves his nephew, he does, but he needs to learn to shut his mouth sometimes, he’ll have to include this in his letter to Cissa the next time he writes to her. 

Harry shakes his head, having paused his action entirely to squint at Regulus, as if looking at him from different angles, “You don’t look that much like Sirius, but you… It’s always bothered me, because you look familiar but not…” he shakes his head again, cleary unable to find the right words -- Regulus has noticed that’s a habit of his, he tails off sentences because he can’t find the right words or remember his though, much like his brother and… James.

It’s uncanny how much Harry looks like his parent, a conversation that Regulus has had with Remus several times. 

But Regulus’ interest has peaked now, “It’s possible you’ve seen me around your family. Again, Sirius is my brother and I have spent plenty of time around him and Remus, and your parent just so happen to be their best friend. 

But once again, Harry shakes his head, “No. I mean, yeah that’s probably part of it. But…” he closes his eyes in thought for a while before he snaps, “My pops has a picture of you in their room! That’s what it is.” 

And that makes Regulus furrow his brows, “James has a picture of me in their room?” 

Harry nods, “I was obsessed with that picture when I was younger, it used to be hung up in the hall, and it’s animated so I thought it was really cool. Then when pops and mum split, they moved it to their room.”

And now Draco seems confused, “What are you talking about, in what world would your parent have any reason to have a picture of Reg? I’ve always heard that they hate each other.”

Harry shrugs, “I’ve asked them a bunch of times, but they’ve never told me the actual reason. They always just say that it’s a nice picture, but I don’t believe that’s the only reason.” 

Draco whirls to Regulus, “Why would Potter have a picture of you?”

Regulus sighs. The knowledge that James still has a picture of him, especially up in their bedroom… he knew that James and Lily had split several years ago, unfortunately he is still part of their lives through Remus and Sirius, even if it wants to have as much distance from his ex and the ‘love of their life’ as possible, but… he can’t explain to either of these boys. So he shrugs, “We were closer in school than most people think, it probably is a nice picture.” And he puts as much finality into his tone as possible. Luckily, both boys understand and shut up, finishing detention a while later. 

And when he lets them go and finishes packing up his things, it’s not his quarters that he goes to. It’s Remus’, immediately collapsing on his bed, “Does James still have feelings for me?”

And Remus just smiles, “Took you long enough to realise, what made it click?”