#one day he confesses his love for merlin and he sees that twinkle again

[isa-belle1367]

Okay, so merthur fic idea: Merlin becomes really cold and calculating by like season 3 or 4, now the change was so gradual and subtle that Arthur didn't really notice until Merlin killed a magical threat without even blinking, but by that point it was too late to do anything, so he learned to live with it. Until one day, a trickster spirt decided to play a joke on Merlin and Arthur by giving Merlin back his original bubbly personality. Merlin wakes up and realizes that he hadn't slept that good in years. He felt lighter as he walked through the halls and was bantering with Arthur in a way that he hadn't done in years. However, he quickly begins to feel off and realizes that this is the work of magic. He tells Arthur and Arthur, who has been absolutely star-struck at seeing Merlin finally happy again, is absolutely crushed that this was only the work of magic. One angst filled adventure later, and Merlin is back to his cold calculating self, wondering why he feels so empty again, and Arthur is wondering if he will ever get to see that light in Merlin's eye again.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 133: Married

"Look at him," Draco said to Pansy, tipping slightly further than he'd intended to when he was trying to get a better look at the ridiculously hot bloke leaning against the bar.

"Who?" Pansy asked, whipping her head around to follow Draco's gaze.

"Him," Draco said, extending his arm and bumping his finger into Pansy's nose because his inebriation had apparently affected his gross motor control. "The one with the arse," he said, admiring the lovely, round shape wrapped in tight denim. "Don't you just want to sink your teeth into it?" he asked.

"Draco, wh-"

"And that hair," he added, imagining what it would look like if you released those dark curls from the elastic currently binding them. "Imagine sinking your fingers into that long thick hair, maybe pulling it a little while you-"

"Draco-" she started again.

"Shush," he chastised, "Don't interrupt a good day dream," he said, glaring at her. He returned his eyes to the man at the bar once more, "And look at his shoulder muscles," he added, admiring the way his t-shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders. The man reached back and scratched his neck, forearm flexing, and Draco might have drooled a bit.

"Draco," she tried again, "How drunk are you?"

He glanced at her before hearing the man laugh and looking back over to see his head tilt back, exposing his throat. He was too distracted to even wonder why he knew that the laugh belonged to the man in the first place. "I'm going to talk to him," he said resolutely before throwing back the shot that remained in front of him and shoving his chair back.

(Read more below the cut)

He smoothed his hair and blew out a nervous breath as he made his way over to the bar, sidling up next to the handsome stranger, "Hello," he said.

The man turned impossibly beautiful green eyes on him, an eye brow rose as his eyes drifted over Draco's face. "Hi," he replied in a voice that felt like honey in Draco's veins as the corner of his mouth ticked up, exposing a dimple.

He swallowed and the man's eyes dropped to his throat. "I'm Draco," he said, holding out a hand.

The man's smile widened, "Harry," he replied, clasping Draco's hand in his.

The name was a bit plain, but Draco could imagine the way it would feel in his mouth as he neared an orgasm, open and delicious. A shiver traced it's way up his spine. "Nice to meet you," Draco replied. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm just drinking soda tonight," he said, nodding toward his cup.

Draco frowned, "Then why are you here?"

"Waiting for someone."

Jealously burned hot and bright in his stomach. "Well where are they?" he demanded. Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco continued, "It seems pretty rude if you ask me."

"Does it?" Harry asked, his voice warm and amused, and almost fond.

"Yes. Is it a friend?"

"More than a friend," the other man replied, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"A lover?" he asked.

"Closer."

He felt nauseous, "Are you married?" he asked.

"I am," the man replied, holding up his left hand so Draco could see the ring.

"Oh," he whispered, why did that make him feel so sad? "Right," he said, sniffling and blinking against the stinging wetness in his eyes.

"Draco," Harry said, reaching toward him.

"No, it's okay," he said, nodding to himself. "It's fine. You're very kind but-"

"Draco," he repeated, taking Draco's left hand and holding it up, "It's you, you nut," he said with a laugh, "You're my husband," he added, pointing to the matching wedding band on his finger.

"I'm your husband?" he asked incredulously, looking between his ring and the man's face.

Harry nodded, laughing softly at whatever expression was painted on Draco's face.

"Wait a minute," he said, pointing a finger at Harry. The other man held his hand up in surrender and Draco spun around and made his way back to Pansy. "That is my husband?" he hissed.

She took a sip of her martini and turned her gaze from the woman a few tables over. "Yes, darling. I tried to tell you."

"He's my husband?" Draco asked, his eyes feeling suspiciously misty again.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Yes. This happens every time you drink Frangelico. We need to stop letting you drink those birthday cake shots."

"It's my birthday?"

She shook her head, "No," she said in exasperation. "You just like the way those shots taste."

"Oh," he said, frowning again.

"Tell Harry it's time to take you home."

He glanced back over to see that Harry was leaning a hip against the bar as he watched Draco talk to Pansy. Harry gave him a little smile and Draco's insides turned to goo. "Alright," he replied, smiling helplessly back. "Night, Pans."

"Good night, you lush," she replied fondly but Draco was already half way back to Harry.

"Hey," Harry said, giving him a little smile. "Ready to go home?"

Draco nodded and Harry held out an arm for him. He slipped his arm through the other man's and he apparated them home.

"This way, love," Harry called once they landed and Draco got his bearings.

He followed the other man back into a cozy bedroom and watched as Harry stripped out of his shirt. "Oh sweet Merlin," he murmured as his eyes traced the defined musculature of Harry's back.

"What?" Harry asked, turning around and revealing an equally defined front. Draco's jaw dropped and Harry grinned at him, "I always forget how gratifying this is."

"You," Draco said, completely missing whatever it was that Harry said, "You are gorgeous."

"Thank you," Harry replied, stepping closer.

"Can I?" Draco asked, reaching out a hand toward the other man's chest.

He huffed a laugh but nodded.

Draco reached out and trailed his fingers over Harry's clavicles and down his chest, brushing over his lightly defined abs before tracing his way back up once more.

"Draco," Harry breathed, eyes closed as he stood perfectly still, letting Draco's fingers dance along his skin.

"You are unfairly pretty."

Harry's eyes fluttered open.

But before he could say anything Draco asked, "Can I kiss you?"

"If you want to," Harry replied.

He leaned in and pressed his lips softly to the other man's and it was like slipping into a dream he'd had a hundred times. He knew these lips, he knew this body; Draco groaned, pressing into Harry and melding their bodies together.

"There you are," Harry said when Draco drew back far enough to trail kisses along Harry's jaw.

"Love you," he murmured.

"Love you, too," Harry said, tipping his head so he could brush his nose over Draco's.

He sighed and pulled Harry closer, resting his head on his shoulder and hugging him tight.

"Alright?" Harry asked, hands stroking soothingly over Draco's spine.

"Tired," he replied.

Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Time for bed, then."

They went through the familiar motions of getting ready and climbing into bed together. "Harry?" he asked, once they were settled in under the covers and Draco was resting with his ear over Harry's heart. "Thanks for always indulging me."

Harry hummed and Draco could hear the smile in his voice, "It's no hardship," he said. "It's tremendously good for my ego," he added with a little laugh.

"You know you're the only one for me, right?" Draco asked.

He kissed the top of Draco's head, "Of course," he said. "It's not like you don't recognize me, you know. Your conscious mind may forget but your body always knows me. It's why you always cry when I tell you I'm married," he teased.

"I do not," Draco protested.

"You do," Harry argued, "Every time. It's one of my favorite things."

"You like to see me cry?" he asked, vaguely insulted.

He felt Harry shake his head, "No, I love to see the look of wonder on your face when I tell you that we're married," he replied.

"I always feel that way, you know," he confessed, "Even when I'm completely sober. It's incomprehensible to me that you would want this life with me."

Harry held him a little tighter, dropping another kiss to the top of his head, "The feeling is quite mutual my love," he replied.

And they spent the rest of their lives feeling the same; beyond lucky and amazed that a love like this could belong to them.

------------------

Day 132: Tinder Date Gone Wrong | Day 134: Break Up

[dramioneasks]

Christmas Fics 2021 (Part 6)

darjeeling eyes by femme_ecrivain - T, one-shot - Christmas Eve, 1998. Hermione Granger appears unexpectedly at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, and offers Draco Malfoy a gift. This small act of goodwill sparks a friendship between them that stretches across three more Christmas Eves and one Christmas Day, as Draco learns to forgive himself and become a man who is, at last, able to accept her love.

Snowy-Peaked Promises by In_Dreams - E, 3 chapters - Hermione's quiet Christmas plans with Harry are upended when, halfway across the world, they come across a trio of former Slytherins staying in the next cabin over. But Hermione isn't entirely certain whether quiet is what she wants anymore. Dramione.

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know by AccioMjolnir - T, one-shot - It's 8th year, post war, and Hermione isn't feeling in the Christmas spirit. She's not the only one who has chosen not to go home for the holidays... and when they get into the eggnog, all kinds of things happen.

The Purity Of Words by Loewenanni - G, 3 chapters - "Our beloved society rises from hibernation to inaugurate this year's Christmas festivities in their usual splendour. Rest assured that This Author will follow every glorious whisper like a Niffler in gold rush so that the hot gossip may warm your cold hearts." - Lady Whispertale's Society Papers, November 23 Dramione Bridgerton AU. Pure-blood Hermione. DHr Festival of Stars 2021. Prompt: Heritage.

Christmas Confessions by olivejuice28 - T, one-shot - Draco allows the spirit of the holidays to push him out of his comfort zone.

home for the holidays by elektriche - M, one-shot - Hermione, who is regrettably Minister of Magic for one year and one year only, goes to Hogwarts to investigate why her sometimes lover-Draco Malfoy-has high-tailed it out of his high paying, ministry job. Reportedly he's gone to teach potions at Hogwarts after Old Sluggy's death. Hermione suspects he's running. Running from the fact that things have gotten a little too deep between them. And when he writes her a letter-she wonders how she didn't see his love sooner. a home at hogwarts for the holidays fanfic

Baby, It's Hot In Here! by CharliPetidei - E, one-shot - “Wait... You’re the one I’ve been singing to?” Hermione asked, dismayed. “Sweet Merlin, Granger!” He bent to grab at the fallen shower curtain, one hand straying from its important task of concealing an erection that, in Hermione’s opinion, seemed rather keen on remaining visible. "Can't we do this another time?!”

The Way She says Darling by MrsDracoMalfoy - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy is a nervous wreck days before his wedding. Changes need to be made and quickly. But what happens when he can’t resist the silk covered curves of his new wife?

love underneath the tree by godgavemelou - G, one-shot - When Draco kisses her again, with the twinkling lights dancing off his skin, his hand lost in her curls, and the fire roaring beside them, it feels like the most perfect of Christmas miracles.

The Unexpected Lunch in Wiltshire by Mariana_Monteverde - T, one-shot - Hermione and Rose drive across the country for Christmas and they meet someone special for lunch, even if unexpectedly...

[engie-ivy]

For the request: "I was wondering if you could write one where Harry reveals that Sirius has a crush on Remus or vice versa? He could either be a toddler or big already but Lily and James are both alive cause screw canon!" from @tugabooos! So happy I got a request, hope you'll like it!😁

Five-year-old Harry overhears his uncle Pads say mean things about his uncle Moony, and he's gutted.

To Harry’s surprise, uncle Pads hides his face in his hands and lets out a groan. “Stupid Moony with his stupid smile! ‘You’re such a good friend, Pads.’ I don’t want to be his bloody friend!”

Such a good friend

Quietly, five-year-old Harry slips into the room.

He’s quite finished with playing outside, and wants to see what his uncle Pads is up to.

His parents are visiting aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon, but Harry had begged if he could go play at uncle Pads’ instead. Last time they visited, his cousin Dudley had tried to push Harry in a mud pool. Harry isn’t sure what happened, but somehow, Dudley had ended up with his head buried in the mud. Aunt Petunia had screamed and called him a freak, and uncle Vernon had looked like his head was going to explode. His dad had been incredibly proud of his magic already showing so strong at only five years old, and had hugged him excitedly, which did nothing to ease aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon’s temper.

Needless to say, his parents were all in favour of him going to uncle Pads’ instead.

Harry can hear voices coming from the kitchen and realises uncle Moony is still here. Uncle Moony came to say goodbye to Harry because he had to leave like half an hour ago, but mum always says that when uncle Pads and uncle Moony get to talking, they completely lose track of time and can go on forever.

Curious what his uncles could be talking about, Harry crouches down in front on the kitchen door and spies through the crack.

Uncle Moony is standing with his coat on, and uncle Pads is leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at him with a smile.

“... check it out next time we’re in the area!” Uncle Moony just finishes his sentence.

“Yeah,” uncle Pads replies. “Definitely. That sounds great.”

“Oh, Merlin,” uncle Moony says. “Is that really the time? How have we been standing here for forty-five minutes already?”

“Story of our life, eh?”

Uncle Moony chuckles and moves to disapparate, but then turns back around again. “Oh, before I forget! Fabian’s birthday is coming up, and I wanted to buy him a record or something. You have somewhat the same taste in music, mind helping me pick out something?”

“Oh,” uncle Pads says, staring at his feet. “Everything okay between you and Fabian, then?”

Uncle Moony shrugs. “I guess? I’ve kind of decided I should worry less about whether I feel like he could be ‘the one’, and just take it day by day. I mean, we’re still young, as long as we’re having fun, right?”

“Right.”

“So will you help me?” Uncle Moony urges. “Please, Pads? I need you! You know I’m pants at buying gifts,” he adds with a sheepish smile.

“That you are,” uncle Pads agrees with a tight smile. “Yeah, of course I help you, Moons. Anything for you.”

Uncle Moony beams at him. “Thanks, Pads! You’re the best! You’re such a good friend, I’d be lost without you.”

Uncle Moony disapparates with a loud crack, and uncle Pads drops down in the kitchen chair.

To Harry’s surprise, he hides his face in his hands and lets out a groan. “Stupid Moony with his stupid smile! ‘You’re such a good friend, Pads.’ I don’t want to be his bloody friend!”

Shocked, Harry steps away from the door. Half in panic, he flees back into the backyard. He can’t believe his uncle Pads would say such mean things about uncle Moony! He loves his uncle Pads to bits, and really looks up to him, but he also loves his uncle Moony! And now uncle Pads doesn’t want to be friends with uncle Moony anymore?

Harry has to bite his lip not to cry.

Of course his parents have to invite both uncle Pads and uncle Moony over for dinner that very evening.

Harry just sadly stares at his plate, picking at his food. His mum gives him a concerned look from time to time. “Harry, love, are you feeling okay?” She eventually asks.

Harry’s bottom lip starts to wobble, and now everyone is looking at him in concern.

“Hey, little man, what’s wrong?”

“Prongslet, you know you can tell us everything!”

“Oh Harry, what’s bothering you?”

“It’s...” Harry sniffs. “Uncle Pads...”

All eyes shift to uncle Pads, who’s eyes widen in surprise. “Harry if I did anything to upset you, please tell me. You know I’d never purposely make you sad!”

“You said uncle Moony was stupid!” Harry blurts out.

Everyone blinks at him in surprise.

“Harry,” his mum says carefully. “That’s not something you can just say. I’m sure uncle Pads would never-”

“Mum, I’m not telling lies!” Harry’s eyes widen in shock.

His mum looks doubtfully, but then uncle Pads scrapes his throat. “Ah, Lils, I think I can explain. Harry must’ve overheard me say something, and misunderstood.”

Uncle Moony raises an eyebrow. “Do explain, Padfoot. How did such a misunderstanding come to be?”

A blush creeps over Padfoot’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Well, ehm, you see... You asked me for a favour and when I see that smile of yours you know I can’t deny you anything.” He laughs awkwardly. “So I think said something like ‘Moony and his stupid smile’... In a joking manner!”

“Oh.” uncle Moony blushes as well.

“See, Harry?” His dad ruffles Harry’s hair. “Uncle Pads and uncle Moony have been friends for ages, and they’ll always like each other!”

Harry shakes his head. “But uncle Pads said he doesn’t want to be uncle Moony’s friend!”

“I’m sure he also has a good explanation for that?” His dad says, looking at uncle Pads pointedly.

“Yes,” his mum adds. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to teach our son those are the kind of jokes you should make about your friends?”

“And if he really doesn’t want to be my friend anymore,” Remus says in a rather cold voice. “Then I’m sure he can say it to my face?”

“Well, Padfoot?”

“Padfoot, care to explain?”

“Let’s hear it, Padfoot.”

“I meant I didn’t want to be just friends!” uncle Pads bursts out. “‘Such a good friend’, while sodding Fabian... Never mind. The point is, I don’t dislike Moony, of course I don’t. I like him so bloody much, I wish I could be something more than a friend!”

There’s a silence.

Uncle Padfoot’s face is bright red and he hides behind his hands. “Oh, Merlin.”

Uncle Moony looks flushed as well, staring disbelievingly at uncle Pads, his mouth opening and closing. Harry’s mum and dad’s eyes have widened. Harry looks from one person to the other, not really understanding what’s going on. Uncle Pads still likes uncle Moony, so that’s a good thing, right?

“Ehm, Harry,” his dad eventually says. “You see? There’s nothing to worry about,” but he sounds worried nonetheless. “Why don’t we go upstairs together with mum to read a story, eh? And give your uncles a moment to talk.”

Quietly, fourteen -year-old Harry slips into the room.

Uncle Pads looks up from where he’s standing in front of the dress mirror, trying to decide whether he should leave another button open or not. “Harry! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Harry grins as he lifts himself on top of the table next to the mirror, and starts swinging his legs back and forth. “Just hiding from dad. He’s gone full-on-crazy best man-mode.”

Uncle Pads chuckles. “Why do you think I sent him away? I hope he’s not bothering Moony, though?”

“Nah, last I saw him, he was yelling at uncle Wormy for wearing a red tie while the theme is silver and gold.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Merlin.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “He has already sent aunt Marls home to change, as she was wearing a white dress. ‘For Godric’s sake, Marlene, you can’t wear white to a wedding!’” Harry gives a perfect imitation of his father. “Her protest that none of the grooms is very likely to be wearing a white dress to no avail.”

Uncle Pads shakes his head fondly. “Oh, Prongsie.”

Harry shrugs. “Mum says to be patient with him, as this is his big day, that he’s been dreaming of ever since he was a boy.”

“That’s true,” uncle Pads agrees.

“So we know my father is completely losing it as best man, but what about you?” Harry nudges uncle Pads with his foot. “Are you nervous?”

Uncle Pads thinks about it for a while. “No. I’m marrying my best friend, what’s there to be nervous about?”

Harry gasps in pretend-shock. “And I thought you didn’t want to be uncle Moony’s friend!”

“Watch out, you little rascal!” Uncle Pads laughs. “I haven’t forgotten what you put me through!”

Harry huffs. “I shall hope not! Thanks to me you finally confessed your feelings. I’m expecting a thank you in all speeches of today.”

“We’ll see, Prongslet,” uncle Pads says with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

“But siriusly,” Harry says in a more sincere tone of voice. “I’m really happy for you, uncle Pads. And for uncle Moony too.”

Uncle Pads smiles, and then wipes at his eyes. “Merlin, Harry, what are you doing to me? I thought I’d at least keep it dry until I saw Moony walk down the aisle.”

Suddenly, Harry’s dad’s voice sounds in the hall. “Harry! Where are you? I need somebody to sort through the rose petals, to make sure none of them have any brown spots!”

Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “I was never here,” he whispers, before slipping out of the room.

[wlntrsldler]

hey!! love ur writings so far, could i request you belong with me with fred weasley? thanks! <3

PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Fred realizes that he loves Y/N after seeing her so close to George. 

WC: 2.6K+ words

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

you belong with me (f.w one shot)

“Sorry,” you mumbled, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of your nose as you collided into someone’s chest. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the ginger boy to the right of you, flashing his toothy grin at Angelina. She laughed at his joke, brushing against his arm in a flirty manner. Your heart fell apart at the sight, almost making you want to crush your glasses under your foot to prevent you from seeing anymore. But it was too late— the image was already burned into your mind. 

“Y/N,” the voice called, waving a hand in front of your face. 

Suddenly, you were pulled back to reality. You looked up at the person you ran into, flustered that you completely forgot their existence. George. You visibly relaxed, shoulders rolling back into a less tense state, “Sorry, Georgie.”

“Fred, again?” he asked, a sympathetic look on his face as he watched you stare at his older twin longingly. George took some of the books you had pressed against your chest, helping you carry the weight of the stress that occupied your mind. “Will you ever tell him how you feel?”

At his words, your eyes widened. You shook your head furiously, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, as you bounced up and down on your toes. You gulped, looking back at the older twin, who left his earlier spot and was no nowhere to be found. You frowned, “Never, Georgie. He’s my best friend and I wouldn’t want to mess that up.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, faking a look of hurt on his face, “I’ll pretend you didn’t just call him your best friend when I’m right here-”

“You know what I mean.”

“As I was saying,” he shot you an annoyed look for interrupting him before he continued. “He may be my brother and your best friend but you’re my best friend too, Y/N. I’d rather not watch my best friend get hurt over and over again.” 

You sighed, lifting your glasses up to rub your tired eyes, “It’s not worth it. I’d rather stay like this and keep Fred in my life than mess up what we have because of my stupid feelings.” 

George rolled his eyes, wanting to somehow find a way to convince you to tell his twin how you felt, but when he saw your face drop at the sight of Fred and Angelina in a lip lock, he decided to move on from the topic. He wrapped a protective arm around you, leading you to the other side of the castle. “Come on, Y/N. There’s nothing for you to see here.” 

The day continued to drag on with everyone whispering about their excitement for the Yule Ball. You tried your hardest not to roll your eyes at the constant gushing from the girls you passed about their dates. George chuckled beside you, copying the scowl on your face, and gagging as Hermione and Ginny talked about their dates. 

You looked up at him as you sat down next to each other, “Who are you going with, Georgie?”

“No idea,” he replied, “Wanna be my date?” 

“George Weasley, do not take me as your date because you pity me.” 

“Hey, I’m sure I’d have more fun with you than with any other girl I may ask,” he argued, nudging you with his elbow. “What do you say, Y/N? Let’s show my dumber and less attractive twin what he’s missing out on.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, unable to stop the smile that appeared on your face. “Can’t wait.” 

George saw you like a sister— almost like Ginny. He wanted to protect you and make sure you were alright, that nobody could hurt you. It just happened to be that it was his daft and dear twin brother to be the perpetrator. He saw this one coming, really. Growing up together, he saw the way you and Fred always had a special connection. It wasn’t until you began to understand your feelings did you stray closer to him than Fred. He took pride in being the more sensitive brother, more observant than the older one, so he always made sure he was there to pick up the pieces after everything happened, like a brother would. 

George caught onto your feelings for his brother a few years ago when he saw you staring at him a bit too long for it to be friendly. For years he watched you pine after Fred, too afraid to face rejection or to lose your friendship to say anything. If it were up to George, he would lock you and Fred in a room together until you confessed to him how you felt or until Fred got his head out of his arse long enough to figure it out himself. But he knew it wasn’t up to him so he had to go through the pain of watching his two bestest friends in the world run around in circles. It’s pathetic if you asked him. 

You weren’t exactly discrete with your feelings. You were sure all of the Weasleys— Charlie included, who hasn’t seen you since you were 13 when he took a break from tending for his beloved dragons, choosing to visit the Burrow for the summer— caught on to your affections, apart from Fred. Molly would often assign the both of you to do chores together. Even Harry, the most oblivious person you’ve ever met in your life, knew of your feelings for Fred. 

You’ve come to the conclusion that nobody could be that clueless. Fred was simply ignoring your feelings so he didn’t have to be the one to break your heart. 

-

The night of the Yule Ball was equally magical as it was confusing for Fred. You descended from the steps, looking gorgeous as ever, snatching the breath of everyone who awaited at the bottom. George beamed proudly at you, eyes twinkling as he watched you strut down with confidence. Fred’s back was turned, not seeing your entrance as he was too busy chatting with his date. You didn’t expect any less from him— he was a gentleman. 

It wasn’t until Ron spoke up did Fred finally turn around to look at you. Ron’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, “Blimey, Y/N, when did you get so fit?”

When Fred turned around, his jaw fell to the floor. It was like everyone else disappeared. Angelina’s chatter was reduced to white noise. The sound of the music from inside the Yule Ball was faint. All he could focus on was you. 

Ron has a point, Fred thought. 

You looked absolutely gorgeous. The color of your dress complimented your skin so well. You looked so mature, no longer the shy girl that he and his brother took a liking to. You were Y/N. And Godric, you were absolutely breathtaking. 

Hermione slapped Ron’s arm, scowling, “Ronald, that’s not very nice.” 

You chuckled, eyes darting over to Fred for a split second. You blushed when you saw him staring back, mouth agape, like he couldn’t believe it was you. You immediately moved your eyes to the younger twin, taking his outstretched hand before he leaned closer to your ear. George’s breath tickled your skin, making you shiver. He whispered, “Looks like you got his attention.”

You were flustered, hiding your face in the crook of George’s neck to hide the redness of your cheeks. He laughed at you, pulling away to guide you to the entrance. Because your back was turned, you didn’t see the confused look on Fred’s face. 

Since when did that start? He made a mental note to ask his twin about it later, an unfamiliar feeling overcoming his senses as he watched George’s hand find the small of your back.

“Fred?” 

He snapped out of his thoughts, now aware of the beautiful girl by his side. He turned his head to look at Angelina, an apologetic look on his face. He sent her a small smile, “Sorry, love.”

“No worries, you ready to go in?” She asked, looping her arm through his. He nodded, clearing his throat, trying to shake the image of you and his brother out of his head. As they walked in, Angelina spoke again, “I didn’t know Y/N and George were a thing.”

“They’re not,” Fred blurted out, blinking rapidly as Angelina shot him a quizzical look. He was sure his cheeks were now pink, a sure sign of his embarrassment, “Uh, I mean- I don’t think they are, at least. I’m sure they would’ve told me. He’s my brother and she’s my best friend, after all.” 

You would’ve told him, right? 

-

Fred would be lying if he said there wasn’t a weight lifted off his chest when George stumbled into their shared room at 11 PM. He couldn’t bring himself to spend the night with Angelina because the thought of you and George plagued his mind. He shivered at the thought that George would take you back to your room, and Merlin knows what else might ensue. Fred didn’t want to think about it. 

He laid in the dark, hoping that the younger twin would make his way inside at a reasonable hour. He still had on his dress shirt but his tie was undone as he laid against the frame of his bed, arms folded behind his neck. His shoes were in two different places in the room. He quite literally shook them off his feet, frustrated that he didn’t know what he was feeling. Fred perked up at any sound that might indicate George’s arrival, deflating when the sound of footsteps walked past his door. 

Finally, George walked in, shoes in hand but the rest of his ensemble still neatly on his body. Well, that’s a good sign, Fred thought. George flicked the light switch on, making Fred hiss at the sudden light. The younger twin threw his shoes at Fred, thinking there was an intruder in their room, half-expecting Fred to still be out with Angelina. 

Fred squinted his eyes, “What was that for?” 

“Oops, sorry,” George chuckled, undoing his tie and plopping onto his bed. “Didn’t expect you to be back so early.”

“I could say the same about you.” 

“Why is that my dear brother?”

Fred felt bile rise up his throat, hating the words that rolled off his tongue, “You and Y/N looked rather cozy.” 

George cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward to interrogate his brother, “Is that a problem?”

Fred was too worked up to detect the teasing tone in his twin’s voice. He cleared his throat, choosing to look everywhere else but at George’s smirking face. “Yes it is a problem. I’d like a heads-up next time my brother and my best friend start shagging.”

He snorted, “We’re not shagging, you git. We’re just best friends.” 

“I thought I was her best friend too and she didn’t go to the ball with me. She went with you, so I find it hard to believe that you’re just friends.” 

“Believe what you want, dearest brother,” George hummed, getting up to get ready for bed. “But did you even ask her to the Ball? I’m sure she would’ve said yes if you did.” 

“Well, I’m dating Angelina so that wouldn’t work.” 

“Precisely,” George rolled his eyes, throwing his balled up tie in his brother’s direction. “That’s why she went with me. You’re dating Angelina, so what’s got your knickers in a twist?”

“I do not have my knickers in a twist.” Fred huffed, getting up to do the same. Silence fell upon the two boys. George was enjoying their confrontation a bit too much, while Fred was now rethinking everything he thought he knew. Was it possible that he was jealous?

No, that couldn’t possibly be it. 

Can it?

-

You’ve preoccupied Fred’s mind since the Yule Ball. Although, he hasn’t brought up his suspicions— and as much as he won’t admit it, his jealousy— over your relationship with his twin, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s gotten in the way of a lot of things. 

For starters, Angelina grew tired of Fred’s absentmindedness, forgetting dates and always daydreaming or staring off to where you and George sat when he was with her. She broke it off with him, and truth be told, he was relieved. 

He skipped over to where you and George sat, prying the both of you away from each other as he squeezed himself between you. He ignored George’s protests and turned his back on his brother, facing you with a comedic smile on his face, “Hello, Y/N.”

You raised your eyebrows, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, “Yes, Freddie?”

“Just wanted to see how my best girl is doing.”

You shook your head playfully, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks. George giggled from behind Fred, getting up to leave the two of you alone. George knew his plan would work.

You pushed Fred off a bit, his body heat making you more flustered than ever, “Put a cork in it, Weasley. I’m sure your girlfriend would not appreciate you saying that to me.”

“My huh?” he cocked his head to one side, a twinkle of mischief in his eye as he explained his situation to you. “I don’t have one of those anymore, my dearest.” 

You dropped your quill, shocked, as you turned to the red head beside you. You imagined he would be much sadder, given the fact that he no longer had a girlfriend, but the grin on his face told another story. It made you believe that the boy in front of you was pulling your leg. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Not funny, Weasley. Don’t joke about that.”

“Not joking,” he mused, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. “We broke up like two weeks ago.” 

“And you’re not in shambles right now because..?”

“Because it was bound to end, anyway.”

A puzzled look took over your features as you gave Fred your undivided attention. His eyes were studying your face, a small smile tugging on his perfect lips. He leaned over and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, keeping his hand there longer than necessary, cupping your jaw. You managed to speak despite the shocks that shot through your body— albeit it was more of a squeak, but you were proud of yourself for even uttering something out, “Why is that?”

“Someone…” he trailed off, brushing your skin with the pad of his thumb before blushing madly, like he just became aware of what he’s been doing. You suddenly missed his touch when he pulled his hand away. Fred cleared his throat, “Someone else caught my attention.” 

You whispered, still half-dazed from his previous action, “Oh.” 

“Y/N?” Fred mumbled, eyes glued to your lips. 

“Mhm?”

He licked his lips, inching closer to you. His breath tickled your lips, making your heartbeat a million miles an hour. “Can I?”

“If you want,” you gulped, allowing yourself to melt under his touch. 

“I’ve never wanted something more than this. You belong with me.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Weasley.”

He smirked before letting his lips touch yours. He pulled you closer to his body, almost forgetting that you were both in public. It’s not like he cared much over an audience anyway. He only pulled away from you when he felt his ear being twisted. Fred grimaced in pain, eyes screwed shut. 

You giggled as you watched Professor McGonagall picking him up by the ear. She wore a fond look on her face that she tried to disguise with a scowl, “Mr. Weasley, I will not have you corrupt one of my best students.” 

“Come on, Professor,” he groaned, sending you a cheeky wink, “With the way she was kissing me back, she was the one corrupting me.” 

You flushed red, placing your face in your hands, “Weasley!”

Unfortunately, he got a week’s worth of detention. It was worth it because he got a girlfriend in return. 

TAGS: @rexorangecouny

[straightouttaneptune]

Opposites attract

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Slytherin!Reader, Platonic!Blaise Zabini x reader, Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson, Platonic!Draco Malfoy x reader (The reader is race-neutral!)

Warning: I think there’s a couple swear words, uhh if you’re in love with Draco you probably shouldn’t read this, there is not a single sentence in this fic where Draco and Y/N are any more than friends. Actually, Y/N will commit an act of violence against him. (Don’t do this to your friends)

Summary: Blaise notices that his best friend, Y/N is different the second he sees her again after Summer break. You are a full-fledged pure-blood Slytherin, but during Summer, you got your heart stolen by a certain muggle-born Gryffindor.

A/N: I am OBSESSED with Gryffindor x Slytherin trope, I’m so sorry I will write a reader who’s in Hufflepuff soon! Also, I love Blaise Zabini? He deserves love :/ He a true King in this fic. Oh and Y/N & Hermione are a power couple who eat men ok cool happy reading!!

—————————————————————

It was a quiet evening in the Slytherin common room. The white noise of the light rain present, but none of you could see, for the Slytherins belonged in the dungeons.

You had your head rested on the lap of Blaise Zabini, your best friend, and your legs over the lap of Draco Malfoy. You wouldn’t say he was your best friend, per se- you didn’t always like how he acted. You thought of him more like a brother, in a way. An annoying brother, no less.

But while your friends engaged in some deep conversation about whatever they talked about, your mind was elsewhere. Since last week, you’ve been lost in the curious world of a strange muggle book titled “pride and prejudice”. You picked the damned book up every time you had some spare time.

“What’s this then? Never seen it before.” You recall 2 weeks ago, laying by the old oak tree of the city park, the bushy leaves shielding you from the blinding sunlight.

“You’ve never seen a book before?” She teases, playful laughter filling the crisp summer air.

“You know what I mean! C’mon, read to me.” You look up at her, sitting down with her back pressed against the tree. Her face was covered with the red cover of the book, but you could swear that what you were seeing deserved to be drawn on canvas and presented in museums. Her golden curls looked as if they were lighting up under the sun, her soft yet strong hands curling around the spine of the book.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife-”

Blaise also had a book opened in his hand, but he was not reading- he was listening in on Draco and Pansy’s conversation. Also glancing down and seeing you smile to yourself, for whatever reason. It could have been the book, but he doubted it.

And even though this was the first day back to Hogwarts, he knew that you were very different from who you were when he waved goodbye to you before summer break.

First of all, you never read muggle books. You were the eldest child of one of the most pure bloodlines to exist. Your family were very close with the Malfoys, the Blacks, and obviously the Dark Lord. Anyone would expect you to grow up hating muggles, and... in all honesty, Blaise thought you did.

But then why didn’t you say anything few hours earlier when Granger bumped into you on the train? A witty quip about her blood, perhaps? But nothing. And why in the world did you have a Jane Austen story in your hand?

Despite the multiple questions looming over his head, Blaise had a theory. So now, he wanted to see. Test you, on how you’d react to another one of Draco’s degrading talks about “muggles” you recently seemed to take an interest to.

“God, those mud-bloods infuriate me. And what’s Dumbledore thinking, opening a class of ‘Muggle Studies?’ What a pathetic excuse for a school.” Draco said quite loudly for the whole common room to hear, looking behind him and at first-year Slytherins as if to get them to agree with him. They nod out of fear, but Blaise can see it’s poisoning their unbiased minds already.

Great. More racism. He’s never been a big fan of it.

Just when Blaise turned back around to pretend to stare at his book once more, you quickly stood up from your place in his lap, and smacked your hard-covered book over Draco’s head. The first years jump and gasp from utter and complete shock.

...Ouch. Blaise doesn’t know if he should be happy he was right about something being up with you, or stop you from killing Malfoy.

“What in the- What is your problem, Y/L/N??!” Draco stands up too and glares at you in an accusatory manner, hand flying up to the back of his head. His tall figure looms over your head, his eyes burning with confusion and rage. But you’re not afraid. Quite the opposite.

“Don’t you dare talk about muggles like that ever again, Draco. You know I’ve never liked it when you used that word.” You point your halfway closed book into his chest, the corner digging into his neatly ironed shirt.

“What? You’ve never hit me over something as little as this? What’s wrong with you, Y/L/N?” Draco questions loudly, the irritation in his voice evident. Pansy stands up as well, linking her arms with the Blond, and glaring at you up and down.

“You’ve been acting strange all day, Y/N. Blaise, say something!” All three of you looks over to Blaise, who was nonchalantly pretend reading his book, unmoving from his place on the couch.

“What? So Y/N can’t hit Malfoy with a book now? She’s done it before.” He looks up and locks eyes with Pansy, “I don’t give a fuck” written all over his face.

“That’s not the point! Why is she so angry over filthy Mudbloods?” Pansy retorts, but as soon as the last word left her lips, you raised your brows at her warningly.

“Don’t. Use. That. Word. Why does bloodline matter? We all bleed red, for Merlin’s sake!” You huff, whirling around to get yourself out of this godforesaken dungeon. Blaise gives a playful salute and trails closely behind, leaving behind the pure-blooded idiots and follows you towards the Gryffindor common room.

“Will you tell me, though? Y/N, what happened during summer?” Blaise stops you just in front of the portrait of the fat lady, and you’re forced to look at your best friend’s curious expression.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You sighed, knowing you would have to tell your best friend if he wanted to come with you. He nods sincerely, although there is a twinkle in his eyes that lets you know he’s enjoying this.

“I fell in love with someone. A muggle-born.”You confess, your cheeks burning like a 1,000 degree flame just by admitting that.

“A muggle-born??” Blaise’s brows shot up to his hairline, his brilliantly talented imagination already making up a scene of you getting disowned by your parents.

“Wait...” his gaze glides past you and at something behind you. “Does it happen to be Granger?”

Your eyes grow wide as a plate, and you almost break your neck from how quickly you turned around. Hermione, Harry and Ron stood there, the door to the Gryffindor common room wide open.

“There was a Slytherin alert. Uhm, Fred and George. Not us.” Harry tries to explain, looking over at Ron for some assistance, but he just stays in place. Wether it’s from shock or fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You... fell in love?” Hermione looks directly into your eyes, as if everything that wasn’t you didn’t exist to her. She climbs out of the entryway, taking a few steps over towards you.

“Uh- I did. Over the summer.” Guessing you didn’t have much other choice than to admit it, you stood your ground and focused on her sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore.

“You did.” Hermione repeated, stunned from the looks of it.

“I did.”

“So did I.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Oh bloody hell, just admit you love each other and move on.” Ron teased from a few feet behind, comfortable now that he saw who he originally thought was a Slytherin nightmare act so awkward and giddy.

Hermione glared at him threateningly, and so Harry wordlessly pulled him and Blaise into the Gryffindor common room. Before entering, Harry almost forcefully rips off the cloak from Blaise, still skeptical of the Slytherin always hanging around Draco Malfoy.

“Right. Anyways-“

Before you could say anything, Hermione hurriedly pressed her lips against yours, her cheeks tinting rose from a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. She’d never done something like this before. She feels like she can hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears, which can’t be normal, but she thinks it feels right.

You feel like getting wrapped into a cloud of euphoria as she deepens the kiss, your hands finding their place on her cheeks. The book clatters on the crème stone floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. Luckily, not one soul is walking around the halls at this hour, everyone getting settled into each their dorms. But you don’t even think about that, for your mind is filled with her, and only her.

After pulling away, Hermione chuckles at your surprised look, mumbling a little “You’re blushing, Y/N.” Before pulling you into her chest for a hug.

You return the gesture without hesitation, grinning from ear to ear and whispering back, “So are you.”

“Come on, we’ll have butterbeer inside. Take your cloak off and hide the tie. I’ll bring my jacket.” Hermione laughs nervously, and looks back at who she swears is the most beautiful girl in the world. Never had she thought she’d get her heart stolen by a Y/L/N, even in an alternate universe, or in a dream.

But she takes your hand, and pulls you into the common room, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

[harrytpotter]

A 100 Years of Love — One-Shot

Plot: James Potter asks Y/N - his best friend - for advice on how to impress a certain girl he fancies, unbeknownst to him that she was hopelessly in love with him.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

A/N: Here i am twice in the same day with a new James imagine, because that’s how obsessed with him I am! Hope you guys like it, and please keep in mind that English isn’t my mother language, hence any probable grammar mistake. :)

Being a sixth year at Hogwarts was bittersweet. As much as you were happy that studies were almost over and so were the anguish concerns about exams, grades and graduating, you were also undeniably sad as you could feel the end of it all approaching at a fast pace. To think you soon wouldn’t be able to wander through the castle’s hallways after curfew with your friends, feeling the thrill of not knowing whether you’d be catched or not; to think you wouldn’t party hard with them at the Gryffindor tower after a Quidditch win; to think you wouldn’t be surrounded by your friends 24 hours a week; and, lastly but most importantly, to think you wouldn’t be seeing him often, it just... hurt. Not that seeing him every single day didn’t hurt at all. Specially since the gossip that he fancied one of your best friends had spreaded like wildfire through the school about a year ago. Sighing heavily, you close your book and set it aside as you leant against the thick trunk of a three, staring at the sunny sky above you.

“Y/N L/N, just the person I’ve been looking for!” An overly-confident male voice shouted from behind you. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, feeling his arrogant smirk radiating through the air.

“What now, Potter? Lily isn’t here, in case you haven’t noticed,” you tease your friend, a grin on your face trying to mask the twinge of sad that hit your heart as you said that.

“I may wear glasses but it doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know?!” He shrugs, a grimace stamped on his face as he sat in front of you. “Would you help a friend out, love?” He adds with a wink.

“Well, I’ll regret saying yes to you, won’t I?” You frown with conformity. It’s not like you could say no to him anyway.

“Excuse me? Since when saying yes to me gets you in any sort of trouble, darling?” He smirks sneakily at you, his hand in his chest in mock offense.

“Aren’t you a complete arse, James Potter?!” You roll your eyes at him, but can’t stop a grin from taking over your lips.

“Oh, please, you know you love me,” he winks at you, causing you to get all flustered. That was the problem with James: he was a flirt by nature. That’s just who he was, he couldn’t help it. It was simply a trait of his personality. He would flirt aimlessly without even noticing he was doing so. He couldn’t be blamed. Still, it didn’t help to ease the effect it — and he — had on you.

“Just say what you bloody want already,” you sigh.

“So, there’s this girl I’ve been trying to impress for quite some time now but, bugger me, she doesn’t seem to give a single shite about me at all,” he starts, staring intensely into your eyes.

“Have it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, she’s not that into your arrogant self?” You tease, cutting him off.

“Merlin’s beard, would you let me finish before judging, woman?” He rolled his eyes at you. “As I was saying, I need to win her over before a git gets in the way of our love story.”

“Love story? Seriously?” You laughed even though you didn’t feel an ounce of amusement in your body. “James, look, i don’t mean to discourage you or anything, but are you sure it’s not the time to give up?” You shoot him a sympathetic glance. Lily really didn’t seem to care about him at all, just like he said. Of course you couldn’t know it for sure, since you were so bloody afraid to ask her if she liked him back, but you knew your best friend. She would’ve sent him signs by now if she too was interested. At least that’s what you hoped, since the last thing you wanted was to be head over heels for the same guy your best friend was smitten with.

“I’m not known to give up that easily, love. Besides, I can’t seem to back away from this, and believe me, I’ve tried,” he stated, his eyes distant as he was lost inside his own head.

You feel a sudden anger at him. Despite your deep infatuation for James and the friendship the two of you shared, Lily was your best friend and you didn’t like the sound of what he just said. “Oh, so that’s what it’s all about to you? A challenge? Some kind of game?”

“No! Y/N, no...” he quickly exclaims, snapping back to reality. “She’s much more than that. She’s... she makes me feel things, you know?! Things I’ve never even known that were possible to feel. She annoys me, teases me, makes me go mad of desire and despair every time she smiles at me and... Merlin, that smile! I swear to you that it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Every time she walks in it’s just like... I’m staring at the sun, she makes everything so much brighter. She makes life so much brighter. She drives me nuts. Damn, I’m in love!” He blurts out, his face filled with devotion, admiration and a burning passion.

Every word that got out of his mouth was like a stab right into your heart. Hearing he say those things hurt more than you ever thought it would. This was the first time he had ever admitted his feelings towards Lily to you, even though you were his best friend. You stared at the grass whilst taking a deep breath, cautiously making sure you’d be able to hide the hurt in your voice and eyes before you could look at him or speak again.

“Well, sounds like you’re serious about her,” you smiled softly at him. It didn’t reach your eyes but you made sure he wouldn’t notice that. “Orange petals lilies,” you add after a while. “In some muggle cultures lilies are tied to 100 years of love. They are also tied to good luck. Plus they mean infatuation, attraction and admiration. Pretty much what you just said you feel. I think it’s very suitable,” you managed to squeeze his arm reassuringly, showing him he had your support. Afraid that you would be unable to keep repressing the sadness that threatened to take you over, you get up and start walking, leaving a thoughtful James behind.

“Thank you, L/N!” He shouts.

“Anytime, Potter,” you answer without turning back to face him, quickening your pace as the tears began to flood your eyes.

***

After your conversation with James, it looked like he and Lily were everywhere you went. Whispering secretively, giggling together in the corners of the castle. Painfully reminding you that you weren’t the one for him. Like now. You couldn’t stop but staring at them, not sure whether to feel happy or bitter.

“Seeing anything interesting?” Sirius snook up on you, whispering into your year, causing you to jump in fright.

“Merlin! You scared me, you daft dimbo!” You slap him in the head with the book you had in your hands.

“Ouch! I’m not the one you’re mad at, should i remind you!” He exclaimed vigorously, protecting his head with his arm.

“I’m not mad at anyone!” You shoot angrily, hitting him again with your book.

“Would you stop hitting me, for Merlin’s sake?”

“What’s going on here?” Lily asks. When you turn around to face her, you’re met by hers and James’ inquisitively stares.

“Just a little PDA, right Black?!” You smirk ironically at him, leaving before anyone else could say anything.

“What just happened?” Remus asked intrigued whilst approaching the little group of friends, joining Sirius, Lily and James in watching you disappear into the castle.

“That, my friend, is what jealousy can do to a person,” Sirius shrugged, a grimace on.

“What do you mean by that?” James asks, frowning in confusion.

“I mean that she was staring at you and Lily, mate,” Sirius winked at his best friend.

“But why would she be jealous at all?” He shrugged, even more confused.

“Boys can be so stupid sometimes,” Lily rolls her eyes at him, clearly amused at his obliviousness.

As James continued to look confuse, Remus intervened: “The rumors. About you and Lily.”

“Oh!” He opened his mouth in realization, soon looking confused again. “But these rumors just started because Lily and I were spending more time together as she was advising me to act on my feelings and confess them to Y/N!” He shrugged.

“But she doesn’t know that, does she now genius?” Lily smacked the back of his head with her hand.

“WAIT!” James shouts suddenly, gaining a frown from the little crowd. “Does- does it mean she... likes me?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with hope.

“Prongs... what have we been telling you for the past year, you idiot?” Remus shook his head in disbelief at his friend.

“Well, I assumed you were all just saying that so I could grow the courage and ask her out,” he shrugged.

“You’re more stupid than people give you credit for, do you know that?” Lily crossed her arms in front of her chest, rolling her eyes and smiling.

James stood there for a few seconds before speeding off towards the near mirror that held a secret passage to Hogsmeade behind it.

“Where exactly are you going?” Remus shouted at his friend.

“To secure myself a 100 years of love!” He shouted back, a wide grin shining on his face.

“Has he gone mental?” Sirius asked Remus and Lily, a brow furrowed.

“Hasn’t he always been?” Lily retorts, causing all three of them to explode in a laughter.

***

“Oi! L/N!” James shouted from behind you and you slowed your pace so he could catch up with you.

“Don’t you have someone else to torture?” You ask him, playfully rolling your eyes, once he was walking beside you.

“Probably, but I choose you,” he winks and stops in front of you, both of his hands rested on your shoulders.

“Lucky me!” You raise your brows ironically.

“Always so sweet, huh love?” He laughs and you can feel your knees trembling. “Anyway, just wanted to let you know that today is the day!” He winks at you suggestively before turning around and leaving you.

You stare at him in confusion and shrug before continue to walk to your destination. He could be quite weird sometimes.

***

As you approached the door of the dorm you shared with Lily, Marlene and Alice, your eyes spot a beautiful vase full of orange lilies inside. “Just wanted to let you know that today is the day!” James’ words crept back to your mind as you stared at the beautiful flowers. This was it. The day he would finally confess his feelings to Lily and ask her out. With your eyes filled with tears, you duck a little and pick up the vase, getting inside the dorm. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized it was empty, putting the flowers carefully on top of Lily’s nightstand and locking yourself into the bathroom, finally allowing the tears to fall violently down your face.

Casting a silencing spell so no one could hear you, you stare at your broken self in the mirror. “This is the last time you’ll ever cry for him. The last time you’ll allow yourself to feel anything other than friendship for him. He’s smitten with Lily and they deserve to be happy together,” you say to your reflection before prepping yourself to get into the bath to take a relaxing and long shower.

After changing into your pajamas and making sure you looked presentable and your eyes weren’t swollen of puffed, you remove the silencing spell and unlock yourself out of the bathroom. Lily was sitting in your bed waiting for you, the flowers and a card in hand. You pressed your lower lip between your teeth to suppress the wave of sadness forming inside of you once again. Of course she’d want to tell you that James had finally asked her out and talk about it, you were her best friend after all.

“Nice flowers,” you say whilst sitting by her side and pulling your pillow into your lap.

“I do think they’re nice myself, I just don’t understand why would you put your nice flowers on my nightstand,” she frowns with a smirk.

“I’m sorry? My flowers?” You ask her, confused.

“Well, aren’t you Y/N L/N?” She offers you the card.

“Yes, but... these are not for me! James sent them to you!” You raise your hands in denial, not even bothering to pick up the card nor look at it.

“Merlin help me! If you bothered yourself to look at the bloody card you’d see it doesn’t say Lily Evans on the envelope,” she rolls her eyes, swinging the card in front of your face.

Reluctantly, you grab the card from her hand and look at its envelope. It had your name in the back of it, written in James’ calligraphy. Your heart started pounding furiously inside your chest as you opened it in shock. Inside of it, there was a little note from him. You start reading it out loud so Lily could hear it, noticing the curious glare she was sending you.

“Hello, my little private sun!

If I, by any chance, make your life as brighter as you make mine, please meet me on the top of the Astronomy Tower at twelve o’clock sharp. I really hope you can make it, love. There’s something I need to properly tell you.

Yours and yours only, Prongs.”

You stood there staring at the parchment, your mouth wide open. Did it mean he liked you? What about Lily? What about the gossiping?

“Well...” Lily swing her head inquisitively. As you continued to stand still, staring at the note with a dumbfounded look, she adds impatiently, “just go, woman!”

Glancing at the watch on your nightstand, you jump out of bed. 11:50 pm.

“Damn you, Potter!” You exclaim before speeding off the dorm, hearing Lily’s screams of excitement behind you.

You ran through the castle’s hallways as fast as you could, as if your life depended on it. The paintings and portraits on the walls shouted words of annoyance as you passed by them in a blur with your wand lit up, but you couldn’t care less. You couldn’t care about being caught. You couldn’t care about Filch or McGonagall, let alone the detention you’d be rewarded with by her if any of them surprised you out of bed at this late hour of night. All you cared about was getting to James. He was always all you cared about.

***

James glanced at his wrist and let out a sigh, it was 00:05 am and you still haven’t showed up. Sitting on the floor, he stares at the stunningly starred night sky. He felt a tightening in his stomach. What if all of your friends were wrong and you only saw him as a friend? Before he could torture himself any longer with his despairing thoughts, he hears the door crackling open and gets up, turning around to face a breathless Y/N.

“You came!” He exclaims softly, gazing at you with relief.

“Where else would I be you idiot?” You frown happily at him, closing the door behind you and taking a look at your surroundings.

The walls had been enchanted by James to look like the night sky outside, a similar spell seen in the ceiling of the Great Hall. Stars were twinkling brightly all around you and the floor was covered in orange lilies.

“Wow, Potter, you really outdone yourself here, didn’t you?” You looked amazed at him.

“I might have had a little help from Flitwick and Minnie, you know, us being their favorite students and all...” James joked teasingly as he started to walk slowly towards you.

“I guess being the teachers favorites really has its perks,” you frown playfully, slowly walking in his direction as well. “I believe you have something you need to properly tell me?”

“Oh, yes! About that, I wanted to thank you for your help with the girl I’m madly in love with. It worked out smoothly!” He winked, causing you to laugh.

“‘m always happy to help you! Hope she‘s worth the trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, she totally is! In fact, she’s so worthy that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to win her over.”

“And why all of this determination in winning her heart? If I’m allowed to ask,” your narrow your eyes, that held a burning fire inside of it.

“Because she’s all I can think about and all I care about. She’s in my head when I wake up and still is in my head when I go to sleep. She’s bloody stubborn and challenging and annoying and... Merlin, I love her,” he says playfully and tenderly as you finally are in front of each other, faces merely inches apart. He rested his hands on your waist, tightening his grip as he did so.

“That’s good to know,” you whisper, staring at his eyes, breathing unsteadily whilst landing your hands on his chest.

“And why is that?” He asks, his eyes swinging from your eyes to your lips.

“Because she can’t stop thinking about this arrogant, overly-confident stupid boy either. And she also loves him, so much it consumes her,” you answer, staring at his lips hungrily.

“Are you being serious right now? I mean, are- are you sure? I don’t wanna pressure you or-,” he starts, looking into your eyes nervously with a longing frown. Not even resembling the self-assured Quidditch team captain and most popular guy in Hogwarts.

You chuckle lightly at his adorable worried face and bite your lower lip whilst smiling sweetly at him.

“Of course I’m sure, you blind daft! Just kiss me already, for Merlin’s sake!” You exclaim, pulling him by his shirt collar into a passionate kiss.

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

[rockinggirl06]

TRULY MADLY DEEPLY 💕

✨A Jily Songfic Oneshot✨

Wattpad + Tumblr Masterlist

Likes liked ! Reblogs adored ! Comments LOVED ! + Stealing is a crime !

Warnings: none ! Pure beautiful fluff !

Note: I highly recommend keeping the song on repeat on Spotify while reading the oneshot =)

- -

A one-shot inspired by and about Jily's wedding night and after. A James POV in verse. A Lily POV in chorus.

- -

Am I asleep, am I awake, or somewhere in between?

The boy woke up from his slumber. Shaking his head, he tried to recollect the memories of the night before. A cheeky grin enveloped his features as the thoughts of the day before flooded his mind.

I can't believe that you are here and lying next to me

His eyes fell upon the redheaded angel-like face, her chest heaving slightly up and down with every breath. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair which seemed more untidy than ever due to last night's.. *ahem* activities.

Or did I dream that we were perfectly entwined?

Was this it? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had it all been a dream? He already found it hard to believe that the girl had actually agreed to go out with him in seventh year..

Like branches on a tree, or twigs caught on a vine?

And now she was under his sheets. His sheets.

Like all those days and weeks and months I tried to steal a kiss

The uncountable times James Fleamont Potter had confessed his undying love for her to which she would just roll her eyes at the boy's childishness. All those times he tried to steal a kiss during their little studying sessions and how she simply would playfully stick out her tongue at him.

And all those sleepless nights and daydreams where I pictured this,

His three mates had grown tired of hearing the lovesick boy's mutterings about how he'd one day marry her. And his parchment and quills were also very  aware of the boy's hopelessness as random doodles with her name entwined always found their way on the corners of essays.

I'm just the underdog who finally got the girl

And there she was. The girl he had chased for as long as he can remember. Bright fiery red hair with a fiery personality to match: Lily Evans.

Potter now, actually.

And I am not ashamed to tell it to the world

The way he spinned her around wih glee when she nodded a tearful yes, the way a certain professor had gotten a wedding invitation with a "PS. I told you she loved me, Minnie." And the way he had sang louder than anyone else in the shower that day possibly making the entire Gryffindor house aware of his joy. The boy was head over heels in love, and well, she was falling too.

---

Truly, madly, deeply, I am

And he was on his knee. A gasp escaped from her mouth. This was the moment. Their moment. All her subtle stolen glances at him and the way he made her heart flutter everytime a teasing 'Evans' drawed from his lips.. all of that had lead to this. Tears lined her eyes as she nodded a yes.

Foolishly, completely falling

As a friendship blossomed between the destined pair, they took on their head boy and head girl duties. Potter had stopped with his continual display of affections to the girl and yet now the girl had started falling. Hard. Maybe she always liked him along the way. And it definitely didn't help how much taller and handsome he had grown over the summer.

And somehow you kicked all my walls in

And one day she couldn't help herself. On a patrol as usual as ever, she pinned the boy against the wall and kissed him. All those walls set up came crashing down as their lips crashed.

So baby, say you'll always keep me

After breaking apart, a red hue similar to her hair took over her corsage as the boy simply grinned in amusement and euphoria, and teased, "Alright there, Evans?"

Did she really hate the messy haired boy with the glasses? Nah she didn't.

Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

With all the roses and candles the boy had set up at their first night together as husband and wife, she couldn't have asked for anything else. And here she was remembering the events of last night where she had pulled his body into hers and made love as he kissed each and every one of her freckles softly.

In love with you

She was truly in love. In crazy, stupid, cliché, cheesy but beautiful love.

---

Should I put coffee and granola on a tray in bed?

She lay beside him and for the first time, he was confused. What was he supposed to do?? Prepare her breakfast? That would please her, right? His father always cooked for his mother. And he definitely could make a mean omelette.

And wake you up with all the words that I still haven't said?

But would that be the newly wed "husband" thing to do? Maybe he should wake her up murmuring sweet things in her ear? But on the other hand, the last time he woke her up, he'd gotten himself punched square in the jaw. And Evans —Potter! He kept forgetting yet always corrected himself with a shy smile— was rather strong.

And tender touches, just to show you how I feel

His tense shoulders relaxed as he simply admired the sight before him. Caressing her face, he tucked some of her red locks behind her ear as he placed a soft kiss upon her cheek. He could simply count all the freckles on her face over and over again. He'd never get tired of looking at her.

Or should I act so cool like it was no big deal?

Maybe he should just get up and shower. Did girls like it when boys made fuss about this or not? Well, then again, it was their wedding night. All doubts from his head were washed away as she gave a small smile and leaned into the touch of his hand which lay caressing her cheek. Maybe he'd just stay here for a few more moments, he decided.

Wish I could freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this

And to think everyone in the wizarding work knew we were on the brink of war. No! He refused to think of that right now. 'Live in the moment,' his best friend had always told him. And that's what he did. He snuggled closer towards the girl, putting an arm over her gently, and pulled her flush against his bare chest.

I'll put this day back on replay and keep reliving it

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and her sweet flowery scent consumed his senses. Their bodies entangled together beautifully and he couldn't think of a better day to start a day. He could now. He would now wake up every day to the love of his life. Maybe until when they were 100. Yeah, yeah he definitely would, the boy declared in his thoughts.

'Cause here's the tragic truth if you don't feel the same

People might consider it rather childish: the way he would confess his love for her ever since their third year. But he truly meant every love confession to her growing up. Maybe it was the sweet tinkling sound of her laughter, or her adorable pout whenever Flitwick assigned extra homework or Merlin, it was probably that one time she flirted with him after a Quidditch Match which caused him to become infatuated with her forever.

My heart would fall apart if someone said your name

And he truly loved her so much, words were never enough to describe it. He really hoped she felt the same.

---

And truly, madly, deeply, I am

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid." She meant that actually. James Potter was definitely an arrogant toerag. But that's the thing. He was.

Somewhere along the way, the prideful egotistic boy had become a caring and proper man.  Her green eyes couldn't help but linger on him more as his usual bullying time was replaced by maturity. That time turned into taking care of his werewolf friend, or even time for comforting his best friend who cried into his arms in the corner of the common room some nights.

And soon enough, a friendship blossomed between the unlikely pair of the redhead and the brunet.

Foolishly, completely falling

And sooner it turned into more..

"Ariel, Ariel uh- let down your window?" One night, a rather confused whisper came from Lily's bedroom window. With a startle the girl rushed to slide up the windowpane and was met with the lopsided grin and the familiar hazel eyes with a playful twinkle looking back at her. "Potter!" She shook her head with a chuckle as she allowed him in. "Evans.. I missed you, okay?" he drawed out sheepishly as he gently pulled her closer by her waist. Heat rose to her cheeks as she looked up at him.

And somehow you kicked all my walls in

The boy leaned down towards her lips unable to resist the girl any longer but Lily turned away at the last moment (resulting a rather sad pout on the boy's lips) as she heard her name being called downstairs. "Lily! Next time your boyfriend wants to visit at 12 am, tell him to use the door, okay? My rose bushes are ruined!!"

So baby, say you'll always keep me

And now she was waking up beside him.

She meekly opened her right eye to see if her husband —yes, husband she reminded herself proudly—was still asleep. A lazy smile on his lips, she was greeted with a drawl in his low morning voice, "Good morning, Evans."

Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

His infuriating smirks had now grown into breathtaking smiles. And he gave her one right now earning a blush upon the girl's cheeks. In his arms and close was exactly where Lily wanted to be. She smiled back endearing and simply looked at him with awe, treasuring the moment, before closing the distance between them. As she pecked his soft lips, she murmured into them, 'Potter, actually."

She was his and him, hers.

All was well.

Anyone catch the ending words reference? The first time I heard this song some months ago (maybe even a year oop—) , I just knew it SCREAMED #Jily. And so here I am finally writing and publishing this !

Thanks for reading and love you all you beautiful people !

Riri <3

[min-sugar-7]

DAY 6: “Can I uncover my eyes now?” “No, stop being impatient.” + Humor

Read it Here on AO3:

 “Can I uncover my eyes now?” Merlin said, not two minutes after Arthur covered them. 

 Arthur rolled his eyes, but still got a jab in his stomach from Merlin. “I could hear that eye-roll,” Merlin grinned over his shoulder. 

 “Shut up. Stop being impatient, Merlin.” 

 They were outside, in the dead of the night, stumbling through the forest like lunatics. Arthur tried hard to make sure Merlin wouldn’t crash into trees, but branches are pesky little things. Merlin let out another hiss when a tree branch grazed his arm. 

 “You’re going to remove this blindfold, or I’ll burn it,” Merlin hissed, rubbing his arm. Arthur sighed, resigned. He was determined to keep the location a secret, to see Merlin’s reaction when he would realize where they were. 

 “Just a bit longer.” Arthur guided Merlin to a clearing, a familiar one. Not much had changed since the last time they were here. The river still flowed, the long grass still tickled their ankles, and the air still felt chilly and clear. Arthur had planned this right to the smallest details. He'd tried his best to recreate the night they kissed.

 Arthur untied the knot to Merlin’s blindfold, letting it drop. Arthur saw everything, every expression that crossed his face. First, it was confusion, then realization sparked his eyes like the stars in the night sky. A brilliant smile crossed his features, giving it a manic edge. Then his eyes turned soft, dark in the moonlight. 

 Merlin met his eyes, face almost glowing in the starlight. “Prat,” Merlin muttered, drawing Arthur into a soft kiss. It’s been a month, but it still felt like the first time. Merlin’s kisses were eccentric- the softness of his lips contradicting the feel of his calloused hands framing Arthur’s face. His touch sent the same sparks, same feeling. He kissed like a man struggling for air, but sometimes they were soft and chaste and loving. 

 Arthur pulled back, resting his head against Merlin’s, relishing the warmth his body provided. “There’s more,” he muttered after a while of comfortable silence. 

 “Oh?” Merlin asked, fluttering his eyes open. Up this close, Arthur could see the faint blue of his eyes and the dim gold that freckled them. The darkness made it harder to make out anything else. 

 “Yeah,” Arthur said, “only if you have the patience to wait.”

 Merlin’s lips twitched upwards. “The one lacking patience would be you, your royal highness.” Arthur shook his head because only Merlin could make it sound like “chamber pot.”

 “None of that.” Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin’s, intertwining them. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty patient.”

 “Funny,” Merlin smirked. “If I can recall correctly, you’re the one who unceremoniously crashed his lips to mine, instead of waiting until the laws were repealed, like we agreed.” 

 Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “Would you rather I had not?”

 Merlin immediately shook his head, saying, “nuh-huh, kiss me again.” Arthur was more than happy to oblige. 

 Arthur dragged him to the picnic blankets he’d laid out this morning. Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Okay, which servant knows about us? ‘Cuz I definitely didn’t lay all this out,” Merlin said, sounding genuinely surprised. 

 “All me,” Arthur smirked, feeling proud. Merlin’s eyes widened, lips pressed in an impressed line. Arthur felt his pride soar. 

 “Impressive. Hard to believe, but impressive,” Merlin said and sat down. Arthur did the same. Arthur pulled out the fruits, bread, cheese, and tart cakes he packed from the basket. He laid it all out for Merlin to see. 

 “Are those apples and blueberry tarts? Who are you and what have you done to Arthur Pendragon?” Merlin narrowed his eyes in fake suspicion. 

 “The real Pendragon is rotting in my dungeons, Emrys. I’m here to kidnap you and make you my pet sorcerer,” Arthur lowered his voice for extra effect. Merlin gasped, his hands flying to cover his mouth.

 Merlin froze and then lowered his hands, face morphing into a thoughtful expression. “Will there be blueberry tarts?”

 “Plenty,” Arthur smirked.

 Merlin shrugged, reaching forward to grab some. “I see no problem with this, then.”

 They both stared at each other for a beat and then burst out laughing. Arthur loved moments like these. Moments where he could forget that he was King and Merlin was a powerful sorcerer, and enjoy the ridiculous company Merlin is. It was just them being completely, utterly, ridiculous. 

 “No, but seriously,” Merlin said, once they sobered up, “what do I owe this pleasure to?” 

 Arthur thought about it, “just for us. I wanted to show you something, but you have to wait.”

 Merlin smiled a soft one smile and shrugged. “As long as I’m waiting with you. What is it?”

 Arthur had to scold his heart for speeding up like that, especially when Merlin shifted over to cuddle with Arthur. His heart, obviously, did not listen. Merlin didn’t say anything about it. 

 “Well, you know that Astronomer that visited a few days ago?” Merlin nodded. He’d come with a visiting delegation from a kingdom of magic. Arthur had already made peace with the Druids. Now, he thought it was best to start with the neighboring kingdoms, too. Of course, the visiting delegation immediately recognized Merlin, and it was fun watching Merlin get all flustered and shy. 

 “He said a giant star would fall tonight, leaving a trail of ice. I wanted to watch, with you,” Arthur said and pulled Merlin closer. The night was getting colder. Merlin turned and gave a look so full of adoration, Arthur just had to kiss him again. “I don’t know how he knew, but…” Arthur trailed off, shrugging. 

 “He was a seer, remember? And he studies the sky for a living.”

 And so they waited. They teased, bantered, kissed, ate, and teased some more. They watched the sky, but Arthur spent most of it watching Merlin. Sometimes, if he turned a certain way, it looked like the stars were embedded in his eyes, twinkling and shining. Arthur loved him, so much, that it felt amazing. 

 “I’d seen this before, in Ealdor, I think.” Merlin burrowed his head on Arthur’s chest. Sometime during the night, they’d laid down on the blanket, too tired to sit up. Arthur tightened his grip around Merlin’s waist, pulling him closer. 

 “Hm?” Arthur hummed, telling Merlin to continue. Arthur buried his nose in Merlin’s messy hair, breathing in the comforting scent there. Merlin smelt like home- like the forests, crisp and fresh. Oh God, Arthur loved him.

 “I don’t remember much.” Merlin sighed. “But it was beautiful. I’m not sure if it’s the same thing.”

 “Can’t trust you to remember much, anyway. It’s a miracle you remember your own name.”

 For his efforts, Arthur got a mumbled, “shut up,” and a slap to the chest, followed by laughter. Worth it. 

 “As I was saying-” Merlin shifted, sliding his legs between Arthur’s, burrowing closer, “- it was a very big star, more like a chunk of rock or something. It left a trail of blue light behind, a long one. It was like a tail or something. It was beautiful.”

 “That sounds impossible. Rocks? In the sky?” They would fall down to the Earth. 

 “I know. But it wasn’t a star, I’m sure. It was too big.” Arthur stared dubiously because it sounded ridiculous. This led to a fairly stupid discussion (read: argument) on whether there could be rocks in the sky. Merlin thinks the Sun and Moon are rocks, while they’re obviously just big stars. Arthur said that this giant “rock” is just a hoax or something. 

 “I have faith. Maybe it’s true,” Merlin said, shivering. 

 “Cold?” Merlin nodded. Arthur went to the basket and brought out another blanket, earning a kiss from Merlin. They snuggled close, exchanging kisses and jabs.

 When the moon was halfway across the sky, Arthur gave up. It did put a damper on his mood, a big one, in fact. He wanted to show Merlin something pretty, something impossible. But it just didn’t happen.

 “Hey, stop pouting,” Merlin said, poking at Arthur’s lower lip. He wore a small smile and leaned forward to press another kiss. “It doesn’t matter-”

 “It does, though,” Arthur sighed. 

 Merlin’s eyes went all soft and adoring, his hands running through Arthur’s hair. “I’m happy, though. It’s been a while since I had this much fun,” Merlin confessed.

 Arthur had to agree. The past couple of months were hectic. He got crowned King, Merlin showed him a side of himself which Arthur never knew about, they fought, made up, almost kissed, decided they weren’t ready, and then kissed again because Arthur couldn’t wait. Then there were the countless meetings and delegations and feats. In the end, they were both worn out and tired. 

 But Arthur wanted to, perhaps, maybe, try doing something romantic. He failed, obviously, and it was disappointing. Arthur wanted to see Merlin’s brilliant smile, hear his melodious laugh, lose himself in his eyes. Arthur hated the fact that he’d gone all soft, but Merlin made it all worth it. 

 Merlin sighed, letting his head rest on Arthur’s chest. “Alright,” Merlin said, raising his head again. “I could show you what I saw in Ealdor as a kid.”

 Arthur considered it. If they wait for too long, they’d lose the night sky and won’t be able to see anything. 

 “How?” 

 Merlin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. He raised an arm and wiggled it, “magic.”

 Arthur chuckled, impressed. “I thought you said magic was to be used judiciously, or something like that.”

 Merlin frowned, shrugging. “I think I can make an exception.” 

 Merlin rolled away from Arthur’s chest, resting beside Arthur. Arthur turned his head so that he could see Merlin. He inched his hand closer to Merlin’s because he missed the physical contact. Merlin wordlessly held Arthur’s hand and closed his eyes. 

 Merlin said something Arthur couldn’t quite understand, but when his eyes opened, they flashed a brilliant gold. It reminded Arthur of sunsets. Merlin's face twisted, eyes narrowing in concentration and effort. His grip on Arthur’s hand suddenly tightened, making Arthur jump.

 “Merlin-” Arthur began to protest because Merlin’s grip suddenly slacked. Arthur’s stomach dropped, because what if Merlin hurt himself? He always pushes himself to his extent, poking and prodding at his limits.

 Merlin turned his head to the side, his eyes tired. The corners of his lips twitched up, smiling lazily. 

 Arthur’s heart dropped. Arthur pulled him closer, cradling him in his arms. Oh God, what if Merlin really hurt himself? Arthur should have known that it was a bad idea. Dammit. 

 “Watch,” Merlin slurred. Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off Merlin. He could not; will not. It was his fault, and Merlin isn’t telling him what’s wrong- “If you miss it, I’ll never forgive you.” 

 Arthur reluctantly tore his eyes away from Merlin, clutching him closer. And, oh, oh. It was large, larger than a wishing star, but smaller than the moon. But it left a beautiful trial of white and blue, glittering like a million stars crowded in one area. It moved across the sky, and in about a couple blinks, it was gone, leaving behind a trail of white dust. 

 Not a few seconds later, a wishing star passed by. Arthur knew it was childish and stupid, but he closed his eyes and wished a wish. 

 Arthur turned his head to where Merlin was still watching the sky. Something heavy bloomed in his heart, something spectacular, magical. Arthur wondered what he had done to deserve Merlin- someone so beautiful, so magical, so, so- Merlin. 

 Arthur was shocked by the intense wave of emotions he felt. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, content to continue watching Merlin watch the night sky. Merlin turned, and soon they were staring at each other.

 Arthur is very well aware that he looks like a love-sick fool, and for once, he doesn’t care. He wants Merlin to know, to understand, just how much he cares for him, how much he loves him. 

 So he did. Under the night sky, under the stars, right after Merlin did something that seemed so impossible, Arthur pulled him closer, delighted to have him in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered, and meant it with every fiber of his being. He’s never felt so deeply for anyone. He never let himself. But Merlin, sweet, loyal, impossible, Merlin, broke through every one of his walls and carved a Merlin-shaped hole in his heart. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 Merlin’s expression changed from droopy to delighted, smiling wide and lazy. Merlin leaned forward but couldn’t get far. But Arthur understood. He pressed his lips against Merlin’s, nipping at his bottom lip, sucking it. Merlin’s kisses got sloppier, and Arthur pulled back. 

 “I lov’ y’u to-'' Merlin began slurring, but Arthur understood. He placed a soft kiss on his forehead, heart about to burst. He tucked Merlin’s head under his chin, bringing the blanket up to Merlin’s chin. He tucked him in, weirdly comfortable sleeping on the ground, but it mostly had to do with Merlin being in his arms.

[dresupi]

Be True - Fremione

for @that-wimpy-cowboy-doll​ Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger Rated T 2,402 words

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

“Hermione, please,” Ron pleaded.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out again slowly before she could bear to respond to what was likely the very last thing she wanted to hear. It was Valentine’s Day, and for once, she wasn’t tied down to anyone.  She was going to spend a night in watching movies with a friend.

True, a friend who she’d very much like to be more than a friend. A friend who made all of this so much more complicated than she’d wanted. It was also true that her ‘friend’ was her ex’s brother, but that was allowed. Especially when the ex had left her over a year ago, and her ‘friend’ had been there for her.

Her friend was Fred. Fred was the friend. The friend who she’d very much like to be more than a friend.

Merlin, how could she have thought this could ever happen without it being complicated?

She must have been temporarily addled because she could see now that there wasn’t any way this could work. If she dated Fred now, she’d hurt Ron.

Never mind that Ron had hurt her. Greatly. How dare he come back just when she was getting comfortable? When she’d dusted herself off and had come to terms with the long-standing crush she’d seemingly always had on Fred, and was almost ready to act on it?

“Ron, don’t do this,” she groaned.

“Why not, Mione? We belong together. I see that now.”

“You don’t see anything other than you’ve made your rounds and all the witches have your number and know you’re not the marrying kind. So you’ve circled back to me.”

Ron actually looked offended. “That’s what you think of me?” he asked, his voice rising at the end of the sentence to the point where it might have been comical if this conversation were about anything else.

“This is what you think of me?” she asked. “You think I’m this stupid, Ronald? You and I didn’t work. We didn’t. I see that now. You want a different life than I do.”

“But that’s the thing. I want to get married now,” he said. “I’m tired of coming home to an empty flat. I want you to be there. Waiting for me when I get home.” He reached for her hands, she kept them limp.

The sad thing was, he probably thought he was being sweet.

Hermione sighed again. “That’s just it. I don’t want to wait for you.” She tugged her hands from his. “I haven’t been for nearly a year and it’s been the best I’ve felt about myself. There is someone out there for you, Ron. Someone who will wait for you and will be happy to do it. I’m not that someone. Now come,” she placed both hands on his shoulders and steered him to the fireplace. “Go on back home and eat some ice cream. Watch some sad movies and get over this, because it’s not happening.”

“You-you’re rushing me out of here, aren’t you?” Ron stammered. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’ve got a bloke coming over don’t you?”

“That doesn’t matter! You’ve had loads of women since we broke up, what gives you the right to be angry with me?” she asked, indignant at his lack of common sense.

He spluttered a bit, sounding a lot like the time her father’s car had stalled out, the engine made sounds similar to the ones Ron was making now.

“Besides, not that it matters, but he’s just a friend.”

Even she didn’t believe that.

“Just a friend who comes calling on Valentine’s Day? In your home?” Ron snorted derisively and Hermione scrambled to think of what she could say to convince him otherwise when at that precise and inopportune moment, the fireplace popped and fizzled. Fred stepped out amidst a green glow onto her living room carpet and reached up to brush the soot from his hair.

“Oh,” Ron wheezed out a combination sigh of relief and a laugh. “Here I was thinking you had a bloke, and it’s just Fred.” He patted Fred on the shoulder. “Had me going there for a second.  Carry on, carry on. I’ll see you later, Mione.”

She set her jaw and sighed. “No you won’t, just go.”

Fred had something tucked up under his arm. But he sent it shrinking and into his pocket while he watched Ron go. He turned back to her, his eyes scanning her face quizzically. “You alright, Mione?”

She chuckled a little. “I am, not sure about him. He’s gone positively barmy.”

“What was that about?” he asked, tilting his head towards the fireplace.

“That was Ron leaving after literally begging me to take him back. He’s delusional,” she said, huffing out a sigh. “It figures he would have done just as I was coming to terms with everything. Bloody nutter, mucking about for a year and then begging me to take him back. That’s just like him, you know!”  She grumbled under her breath for a moment before glancing over at Fred, who was staring at her like her hair had turned green and it was his fault. Like he was sorry for her or something. Which wasn’t the tone she’d intended at all. “I’m fine, I just need some tea.”

“I can get that,” Fred offered.

“No, no, I’ll do it the muggle way, I need the distraction for a moment,” she replied, turning to sulk off to the kitchen and curse Ronald Bilius Weasley under her breath the entire way.

“He’s my brother, you know,” Fred said suddenly from behind her, and Hermione was just about to collapse into so many apologies when he continued. “He’s my brother, and I know I”m supposed to love him and all, but he’s a dimwitted moron with dust for brains and I’m sorry he did this.”

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. She ran water into the kettle and placed it on the stove. “It’s not your fault, Fred.”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault that Ron had mucked up everything. That she now couldn’t rightly tell Fred what she wanted to tell him because it would hurt Ron and likely divide the Weasley family. And there was always the chance that Fred didn’t return her feelings at all. If she were to confess her feelings, she’d not only lose Fred, she’d likely cement her position as Weasley enemy number one.  A wretched trollop who broke one brother’s heart while trying to get into another’s robes.

No, it wasn’t Fred’s fault at all. He hadn’t asked for any of it.

“I had a year to move on, I should have done when I had the chance,” she sighed.

“That’s codswallop, Mione.”

“What?”

“You can still move on. You don’t have to put everything on hold just because my idiot of a brother can’t make up his mind. You’ve made yours up, I can tell. Don’t lie to yourself out of some misplaced affection for him. He isn’t the only one who matters, you know. In fact, I’d say that when it comes to you, Ron shouldn’t matter at all.”

The kettle whistled and she quickly turned off the burner and poured the water over her tea, inhaling the aroma as the steam carried it to her nose.

“I suppose you’re right,” she acquiesced, vowing to change the subject. “What did you bring me?”

Fred’s eyebrows raised comically. “What makes you think I brought you anything, you daft witch?”

She fought back a grin. “I saw you hide it in your pocket when you stepped through the fireplace. What’d you bring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he teased, taking a seat at her kitchen table and forcing her to Accio whatever it was from his pockets.

Of course, when she did, she was forced to hold the shrunken down box in her hand for a long moment, glaring at Fred.

“What’s that look for? You’ve got the thing, haven’t you?” His eyes twinkled and while Hermione knew it was exactly what he was after, she glared all the harder. “Fine, fine. You’re so picky. You want your gift, but you want it life-size. How completely boring of you, Hermione.”

“That’s me,” she deadpanned. “Boring as sin.”

“See, to me, that means you’re not boring at all because sin isn’t very boring,” he argued, flicking his wand and muttering the counter-incantation to turn it back to life-size once more.

“That’s your opinion,” she countered, looking at the now right-size box in front of her. “What is it?”

“See, a normal witch would have torn it open by now. I’m not sure you understand how presents work, love.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled the lid off the box, only to stop short when she saw what was inside.

By all outward appearances, they looked to be salted cream caramels from a lovely little sweet shop near her parent’s home. But this was Fred, so they could really be anything.

“These won’t make me puke rainbows or anything, will they?”

Fred sighed heavily as if he were the one who was greatly put upon here. “They’re from your favourite sweet shop in Muggle London. I Muggled up to go there and buy them for you, and you ask me if they’re going to make you puke? Why would I make you puke on Valentine’s Day, Granger?”

“Because you’re you,” she countered, pointing at him in a very accusatory way.

“That’s a fair cop, but I wouldn’t do that on Valentine’s. Your birthday, perhaps, but not Valentine’s.” He placed one hand over his heart and one in the air. “Trickster’s honor, I didn’t meddle with them.”

“That’s exactly what a trickster would say if he did meddle with them.” She reached for one and sniffed it.

“Merlin’s beard, woman.” Fred yanked it out of her hand and popped it in his mouth, chewing. “Shall I eat them all, or do you believe me now?”

“There’s over fifty here. You’d be puking something if you ate all of them.”

“But not rainbows,” he replied, grabbing another from a different part of the box.  After no rainbows, glitter, or fireworks issued from his mouth, she gingerly chose one of her own and ate it.

It was, of course, delicious. As illustrated by the groan that did issue from her mouth the second the decadent sweet touched her tongue. “Oh, I could eat myself sick on these,” she murmured.

“So you like them?” Fred asked.

“I do. But I’m afraid I didn’t get anything for you, didn’t know we were doing gifts.”

“I thought you were making me dinner,” he said with a shrug. “Not that I’m demanding it or anything.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow and flicked her wand to get things started. “As you wish, kind sir.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Said I didn’t demand it.”

She shrugged and reached for another caramel. “Didn’t say you did.”

“Mione, um…” His tone had changed. It was lighter. Quieter.  “You know that whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you, right?  George and Ginny would too. No matter what any of us say to the contrary. Don’t feel you have to try to work things out with Ron. Or that you have to dump his arse to the curb either. We just want you to be happy.”

“Awfully nice of you to relay the message for all of you,” she said with a short laugh. She reached for another sweet, and Fred’s fingers closed around her hand. “I just want you to be happy, Hermione.”

Her skin burned where he touched her. And when she looked up into his eyes, it only got worse. Or better, whichever way one wished to look at it.

Hermione licked her lips and decided to call it better.

“Really?”

“Truly,” he insisted, running his thumb over the back of her hand before letting it go. She pushed up from her seat and grabbed for his lapels, pulling him back closer so she could kiss him.

He’d started talking just before her lips met his, so she pulled back. “What?”

“Table’s in the way,” he muttered, sending it sliding across the floor and pulling her into his arms. One wrapped around her waist, the other cupped her chin and tilted her amicably so he could kiss her properly.

A bit dramatic, but effective, nonetheless.

“I really, really hope these aren’t delayed puking sweets,” she mumbled.

“Hush you,” he replied, nuzzling her nose with his before finding her lips once more.

“What are we going to tell--”

“Can you just enjoy a moment without having to think it to death?”

“No,” she answered. “You know this about me.”

He sighed. “Merlin help me, I love that about you. Even if I’d rather just snog you silly instead.”

“Maybe we could just keep this quiet--”

“Nah,” he shook his head.

“What? Why?”

“I’ve been wanting this for a while now, Mione. I’m not going to keep it quiet because it might hurt ickle Ronnykins’ precious feelings. He’s a grown man who made many mistakes. Which worked out well for me, so…” He shrugged.

“Your mum--”

“Will be thrilled that you’ve both moved on from Ronald and are still dating one of her sons,” he assured her. “Best of both worlds for her, I’d wager. Now, if you’ve finished worrying about everyone else in the entire world…”

Hermione grinned. “Fine. Snog me silly.”

“Oh, I intend to.” She giggled and he kissed the tip of her nose before moving down to her lips. “Doing my job for me, I see.”

“I can’t help it, I’m too happy.”

“Good.”

He’d just started to move in again when she spoke.

“Do you think we should--”

He groaned. “Hermione.”

“Go in the other room?” she continued. “I’ve a rather comfortable sofa in there.”

He clasped her hand and tugged her along after him. “Fine, but no more interruptions.” He pulled out his wand and cast a warming charm on the dinner before they collapsed in a pile on the sofa.

He pulled her into his lap, lips brushing over her jaw and she raked both hands through his hair, catching and holding his gaze for a long moment.

“Get a good look?” he asked, cheeky to a fault.

“I might have done,” she whispered.

“Hermione, please kiss me.”

She didn’t have to be asked again.

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Eighteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti  @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival )

so, i recalled earlier this week that in canon, showers don't exist. you might be thinking, hey lior zoë, what are you talking about? allow me to refresh your memory. in acowar, nesta confesses to feyre in front of the inner circle that her ptsd is triggered by taking baths, because of the cauldron. so she has to bathe in buckets. feyre assures her that they will come up with some contraption that will allow her to clean herself some other way. in the snippet from the end of acofas (which we now know is called A Court of Silver Flames, btw!!), nesta mentions her ability to slip into a bath is huge progress. so presumably, feyre has not given her this contraption. i think about this all the time, because the idea of a superior race with all the magic in the world not having ever invented showers is so supremely stupid to me. however, it has come to my attention that on two occasions I have forgotten this, and mentioned showers in previous chapters of lpg. i have elected to continue ignoring this and in the future will continue to reference showers. but in accordance with the rules of the game, I can no longer call this fic canon compliant AU. henceforth, this fic is a showers exits!AU and nothing more.

enjoy.

---

February 9 - 4 years after

The last of Sugar Valley's snow melts in early February, and as mid-month nears, the weather almost looks warm outside. Of course, it is still plenty cold, so every morning brings a new argument on whether or not Avery has to wear her coat, which sparks an identical one with Nicky.

Nesta takes a deep breath. "All right, Avery," she says. "Stand outside for one whole minute without your coat. Just on the porch. Yes, you too, Nicky."

"I want Ollie to come too," Avery demands.

"No, Ollie doesn't want to stand in the cold without a coat. There you go. Your minute starts...now."

Nesta watches the two of them stand on the front porch, Nicky enjoying himself like it is a game and Avery, cross and stubborn, glaring at her.

Ollie sits on the floor next to the door, working on putting his boots on by himself. He's quiet except for slight whispers as he coaches himself on how to tie his laces.

"Had enough?" Nesta calls.

"I'm cold, Mummy."

"Well, come inside and put on your coat, then," Nesta says, doing her absolute best to keep her voice even.

Nicky does, but Avery remains outside, scowling.

Nesta takes a deep, shaky breath. "Avery," she says. "I can see you're shivering."

Avery stomps her foot. "I am not."

Nesta closes her eyes. "All right," she says. It's far too early in the day to choose a hill to die on. "Let's just walk to nursery, then."

Nesta wraps Avery's coat inside hers—she can't hold it normally, for if Avery sees it, she'll throw a fit. She fastens her buckle tightly, so the smaller coat won't slip down her body and she can still use both her hands to hold onto her children.

But Avery doesn't want to hold hands today.

Eventually, she manages to get all three of them to nursery, with Avery in her sour mood the whole way, Ollie keeping to himself as much as possible, and Nicky blissfully unaware of both his sister's and his mother's irritation.

She sneaks the coat into their teacher's hands and leaves after only two quick kisses goodbye—Avery has joined her friend Emilia in a game and refuses to pay Nesta any mind at all.

So Nesta scowls on her way to start her day, too. Perhaps even more than usual, for Maz ducks behind a bookshelf as soon as he sees her.

"How have you scared him off already?" Zeyn asks, laughingly, from behind her.

Nesta whips around. "All I did was walk in here!" She can't help her outburst. She doesn't have many outlets. She'll take what she can get.

But Zeyn is rather used to this, and his easy-going personality never falters. "Woah," he says, holding his hands up. "Coffee's in the back room. Come with me."

She'd like to stew in her misery for a bit longer, actually, but Zeyn doesn't let her, pushing her along and sitting her down in a chair.

"Is it the workload?" he asks her. "I know you've been taking the brunt of those Prythian writers..."

"It's all of it, Zeyn," Nesta says, dejected. "It's the writers and my regular workload and Avery's going through this phase...and Ollie's being quieter than usual and I think his lungs are part of the reason, really..."

And she doesn't say it to him, but it's Cassian, too. Not that he's done anything wrong, it's just...he's been in the Night Court all week, and she has grown so used to having him around. And now it feels like everything has been dumped upon her alone. Pairing this with that "paperwork" that Amorette had started doing, which is shaping up to be a huge opportunity for her in Ciyaluck...Nesta's never felt more burdened in her life.

"At least Nicky's still singing to himself," she says miserably.

"Ava's not exactly depressed, Nesta," Zeyn says, teasing slightly.

"I think she hates me now."

"She doesn't! Like you said, it's just a phase."

"It's not..." Nesta swallows. "It's just a lot."

And now she can't even share with him, because...well...it feels too weird. She and Cassian have been co-parenting for months now. She's been slowly easing Zeyn out of conversations like this, and to suddenly talk about something as intimate as her relationship with her daughter with such brazenness...it feels wrong to be talking to anyone else this way.

But that isn't right. She still loves Zeyn. He still helped her with the children so much when they were born, when she was pregnant.

"It feels a lot to handle sometimes," she says finally.

Zeyn cups her face with his hand. His eyes, warm as ever, twinkle at her. "You don't have to handle it alone," he promises, voice sweet.

She summons a smile. "Is that an offer to edit these short stories I just got?"

Her ill attempt at humor works. He laughs and breaks apart. "Count on it."

---

February 3 - 1 year after

It was a good thing Adil had found her a house when he did, because the deals with the bank and with Erest, the councilhead, were finalized just as Nesta grew to be too big to fit through the door of her room at the inn.

Nesta had actually been looking forward to her second trimester, because of the promise of not greeting every morning with violent illness, and then crumpling up in a heap on the bathroom floor.

But it seemed that the first day she had awoken to find all she had eaten before going to bed yesterday had successfully stayed down, was also the day she thought she would not be able to get out of bed on her own. While it was true—in her case, at least—that the fourth month of pregnancy brought with it the energy that had all but disappeared completely these past few months, it wasn't much use if she was too heavy to handle herself.

Amorette, her healer, was pleased to note every pound Nesta gained. She had been worried, at first, having heard tell of females unable to produce enough space and nutrition for multiples and losing all of them, one after the other, but Nesta was having no such troubles. She—and Miri—had assured her that she did not look to be the same size as her new two-story house, though.

(There was some concern about the size of one of the triplets, a male, significantly smaller than the other two, but Amorette said as long as they were keeping an eye on it all, they should be fine.)

"Right, then," Adil said, coming down the stairs of the house. "You should be set for now. Placeholders," he added, nodding towards the blue couch in the living room and other items that graced Nesta's sparse new home. "Until we can...get some..." he trailed off, looking around, perhaps doing more measuring in his head.

"You've done more than enough," Nesta said firmly. While pregnancy had not been kind to her over the last month, Adil certainly had, helping her with everything she could possibly think to need. Miri as well. And Zeyn...well, Nesta could never really tell if he was more irritating than helpful, but he was there, too.

"Got the cribs set up, room next to yours. Didn't paint the room, though..."

Nesta could hardly believe it. "What?"

Adil looked as startled as she felt. "Well, Miri said it was important for you to paint it. Nesta...?"

"Nesting," Miri called from the kitchen.

"Right."

"No, no, it's not that. I just..."

I just forgot I'd need cribs.

"...didn't realize you had bought me cribs. That's—that's too kind."

"Gift from the shop," he grunted, looking away. That was fine. Nesta didn't want to make eye contact either. "Well, we'll be on our way."

Miri came out of the kitchen. "I've got some meals ready for you in there, dear."

"Oh, thank you, Miri. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, please. We'll see you tomorrow, dear."

"Thank you," she said again, to them both, as she walked them out.

The sound she made when she shut the door was between a sigh and a groan. Endless relief and gratitude that she finally—finally, for the first time in her life, had her own home. And the dawning realization that it would not be hers alone in a few short months.

Or would it? Nesta didn't remember deciding she was going to keep the triplets, only that she wasn't terminating the pregnancy. Were those her children stretching out her insides, she wondered, running her hands over her belly as she stared in the mirror? Or was she just holding them for someone?

That was something she needed to figure out. Before Cassian wrote back, at least.

She tried not to think about how he hadn't written back yet. Perhaps he was still...upset. But he would, eventually, and then she...they would...what?

Less than five months to go...and with the average duration of a triplet pregnancy being far less than the typical nine months, probably not even that. Whatever decision she was going to make, she had to make it soon.

---

February 18 - Year of

Nesta never thought the sight of Cassian's house in their camp would bring her so much relief. But it meant that trip was finally over.

"I've got to shower," she said, as soon as she walked in the door. "I have to get all of that place off of me."

"What was so bad about it?" he called after her, but she didn't stop to answer.

That camp wasn't so terribly different from this one, true. In fact, it was uncannily similar, as she had noted when they first arrived there. But the people were different. There was no love lost between all the townspeople here (save Cassian and Emerie) and Nesta, but she had not missed being looked at that way. Hated...feared.

She hadn't minded really, in that room. And she could admit to herself here, alone in the shower, that she even...enjoyed some of it. The parts where she spent all her waking hours with Cassian, and even when there were other people in the room, she wasn't sharing him.

Nesta had never been someone's first choice. No one had ever placed her at the height of their priorities, given themselves to her first and foremost. And that still wasn't what was happening. They had only gone because Cassian was General Commander—sworn to her sister and Rhysand and the people of the Night Court first.

But all that had seemed far away on this trip. It was so easy to pretend like none of that was real.

Even then, she knew the illusion couldn't last that long.

---

February 26 - 1 year after

Days seemed to go by quicker now. What with her new house, Nesta felt she had more freedom to go about the town as she pleased. She was so taken with living life as she saw fit, she didn't even mind that Sugar Valley really didn't have much to do. She thought she might prefer it that way.

In the mornings, she would walk to the bookstore, and someone would be waiting with a coffee for her. Zeyn or Miri or sometimes Leyla. Perhaps they worked in shifts.

She'd read and repair all day, and stop to eat lunch with everyone at half past noon. There hadn't been a collective lunch break when she had started, but one day she sat down with a large container of chicken salad, and Zeyn had sat himself next to her, and then Leyla had joined, and Maz followed her, along with Xeyale and Amir, and Miri had come to see what the gathering was about, and then Adil had wandered in after her. Sometimes their publishing agent, Hazar, stopped by and joined them.

Sometimes she'd leave in the afternoon for a visit with Amorette. In the evenings, she'd go home and fix herself dinner, which she liked to do alone.

But after that, she'd go for a walk about the town, and inexplicably, someone would be there. Most often Zeyn.

"So, you think of any names yet?" he said to her one night, as they walked.

Nesta popped a sugarberry into her mouth. "Names?"

"For the babies."

Nesta flinched. "No."

"Oh, do you think it's bad luck to talk about it? Some people do. My mother's that way."

"I don't believe in luck," she said. Luck was so faerie, like their pantheon of gods and fate and mates. None of that was real. Not real enough to matter, anyway.

Zeyn laughed. "That must be nice."

She didn't think it was. He laughed at everything, didn't he? Nesta would never be that way.

"So, do you need any help? With the names?"

"Did you have some you wanted to share?" she asked drily.

"ZJ," he said immediately.

"ZJ? Zeyn Junior?"

He grinned at her. "Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

She summoned a weak smile. Where she was from, someone was only a Junior if they had taken their parent's name.

"Zahra's pretty popular for a girl," he continued, unaware of her thoughts. "I think it's pretty."

"I don't think I want a Gilameyvan name, though," she mused. And she certainly shouldn't choose a name if she wasn't sure she wanted to keep the children.

"What's popular in Prythian, then?"

"I don't know," she said shortly. Then, after considering it for a few moments, "I'm from south of Prythian."

"What's popular there? Is Nesta a common name?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. Feyre wasn't, either. They did know their fair share of Elains, though. "I guess...Heather? Joyly? Analynn?"

"Joyly's nice."

"Well, I didn't like any of the Joylys I knew."

"What about boy names?"

Nesta thought. "Well...Caleb, I guess. Elias." She didn't remember many boys she had known. Tomas, of course, but she wasn't going to name anyone after him. "Actually," she said, softly, "I did always like my father's name."

He touched her elbow gently. "What was his name?"

"Ollison," she said. She hurried to find something else to say. She certainly didn't want to talk about her father. "I like Avery for a girl. A book I liked when I was younger...the heroine was called Avery."

"Human-authored?"

"Yes."

"Maybe we can find it," he said. "How do you know so many human-authored books anyway?"

So Adil hadn't mentioned her slight stretch of truth. "I lived among them for many years," she said.

"Wow, really? What were they like?"

"They were normal," she answered, irritated by the question.

"Really, even to a High Fae?"

Oh. That was why he asked. How to answer?

"Friendships and love can transcend race," she said, thinking of her sister and her new family. Herself and...

"You loved some of them."

After a lengthy pause, Nesta said, "I did. Very much."

---

February 11 - 4 years after

Avery's poor attitude does not transfer towards her behavior at nursery, according to her teacher, and while Nesta supposes she should be glad of this, she finds she's only upset that it seems to be just her Avery has a problem with.

This is further worsened by her shrieks of delight when Cassian accompanies her to pick them up that afternoon.

Avery races towards him like she hasn't seen him in months—even though Cassian had arrived last night, and they had all eaten breakfast together.

Cassian doesn't seem to notice Nesta's disgruntlement, and laughs as he picks Avery up into his arms. Nicky and Ollie clamber at his legs, and he scoops them up too.

Nesta keeps her eye roll to herself as she takes their bags. Not Avery's coat, though—because at Cassian's request, she had elected to wear hers today.

At least Nicky says, "Mummy, I missed you so much today!" and Ollie nods along eagerly.

"Can we go to the park?" Avery asks.

"You know the rules, Ava," Cassian says sternly, as they leave. "We go home and eat first."

Avery pouts some, and Nesta's blood rushes to her cheeks—is she going to throw a tantrum? Oddly, the idea of a public fit doesn't faze Nesta at all, as the three of them have each had their fair share, but having Cassian see how incompetent she can be mortifies her beyond belief.

But he coaxes her out of it by promising they're going to go to the park later, and actually, they're going to cook something together to eat, and won't that be fun?

Nesta has been hiding her bitterness from her children their whole lives, so this one afternoon is hardly the one that kills her. But she takes extra care to keep up cheery pretenses because of Cassian's presence, and she's convinced she's done a good job of it, because he doesn't seem to notice anything's the matter at all.

At least, she doesn't think he does, but right after they shut the door to the children's room, he puts his arm over her shoulder, and—when they are safely out of earshot, in the kitchen—says, "Nesta, what's wrong? You've been miserable all day."

"I have not been miserable all day," she scoffs, trying to hide her flush with a glare.

"Come on, Nesta. What is it? Is it Ava? Kids act like that all the time."

"I know how children act," she snaps.

"I didn't mean to imply you don't," he says. "Just...trying to reassure you." He hesitates. "Nesta...Rhys and Az and Mor each told me that you're a wonderful mother."

"What a surprise that must have been."

"To them, maybe, but not to me," he says seriously. "I always knew. But it's okay if this is hard for you to do on your own. With Ava and with everything you've had to take on at work...and, you know, if anything else has been pressuring you..." he trails off, and when she doesn't show any sign she knows what he's talking about, his lips tug upwards slightly, and he adds, "If I've been pressuring you."

"You have not been pressuring me," she says automatically.

"Well, I hope you're lying," he says, "because I've certainly tried to."

Nesta rolls her eyes.

"You really haven't thought about my telling you I want us to be a family?" he asks, skeptical. "I don't believe you. Come on, Nesta, it's just me. You can tell me."

Nesta gives a short, irritated sigh. "Well, of course I've thought about it."

"And what?" He takes a step closer to her. "You haven't come up with an answer yet?" He puts his hands on her shoulders, smirking slightly.

He's...he's much closer now. And his wings aren't spread wide, but inching closer to her as well. Blocking out everything in her periphery, so he is all she can see. "I have."

He raises an eyebrow. This is unnatural, isn't it, being this close without actually touching? "And?"

His eyes—like Avery's, like Ollie's, like a dark honey disappearing into the black of his pupils. It takes her a minute to remember what he's talking about. "Oh," she says, slightly surprised to remember. "Well. Of course I want us to be a family." She doesn't get a chance to say anything else.

Because then he is kissing her, and it's like no time has passed. His hands circling her waist and hers taking their place in his hair. He tastes the same—that vague lemon and mint. His hair is a bit longer, but the growling sound from the back of his throat when she pulls it is just as she remembers. It's what spurs him onward, downward. His lips move to the side of her mouth, and he kisses down her neck, but she pulls him back upwards. It's been too long. She has waited so long for this.

And it appears she'll have to wait a while longer, because just as their hands start to roam, a small voice from the stairwell calls, "Mummy, my throat is really hurting a lot."

They rip apart. Cassian's eyes are wide, and he snaps his wings backwards to be tucked against his back.

Nesta whips around, hands furiously smothering her hair—just in time to see Ollie wobble into the kitchen.

He hasn't seen.

The pair of them breathe a sigh of relief together.

Then Nesta remembers what he said. "Your throat hurts, angel? Come here." She picks him up and holds him against her. He lays his head on her shoulder and coughs, wet and deep.

"It's been back," Nesta whispers to Cassian. To Ollie she says, "Do you feel like you need to take the purple medicine we got from the healer?"

Ollie nods, yawning.

"It's in that cabinet there," she says to Cassian. She takes a deep breath to calm herself so she can calm him. "We're going to take a little bit of medicine. We're going to practice our deep breaths over the steaming bowl, and first thing tomorrow we are going to see our friend Healer Nazrin. All right, angel?" She looks at Cassian when she speaks, and he nods along with Ollie.

After she directs Cassian on how much of the tonic to give Ollie, she says, "Now, why don't you go with Appa and sit on the couch, and Mummy will bring the steaming bowl?"

This is not the first time Ollie has woken up in the middle of the night complaining of throat or chest pains and a cough. Nesta's not overly terrified; in fact, she's even pleased to see he is old enough to tell her exactly what hurts and that he wants medicine. But she knows that for Cassian, this is the first time, and he is probably as scared as she was. So sitting with him for a moment alone on the couch while she takes care of the treatment will probably calm him down.

And give her just a few seconds to collect herself. There is far too much on her plate. She doesn't need anything extra to deal with now.

---

hope you enjoyed that!!

also, did you know, i started a booktube? also also did you know, june 21st as this week and it’s the triplets’ birthday? also also also did you know, june 25th is tomorrow and that’s my birthday!!

thank you all so much for the overwhelming support. i just love you guys so much. i also love @thestarwhowishes, my beta.

---

Chapter Nineteen

[wlntrsldler]

Hii, was wondering if I could request you belong with me with oliver wood? Thank u :)

PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N is in love with her friend with benefits, oliver wood. 

WARNINGS: light smut

WC: 1.8K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

you belong with me (o.w one shot)

“Always a pleasure, Y/L/N,” Oliver quipped, putting on his shirt as he shot you a flirty smile. 

You giggled under his stare, slipping on his discarded jumper to cover yourself. You inhaled his scent, feeling yourself fall deeper for the boy in front of you. “I can say the same about you, Wood.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, motioning over to the article of clothing you decide to drape over your body. “I take it that you’ll be adding this to the collection you have?” 

“Course,” you hummed, staring at him as he began to get ready to leave, as usual. “Need to have something to remember you by.”

Oliver cheekily snuck over next to you, pressing his lips against your neck, making you moan out. You pulled his neck back, connecting your lips together, making him groan. You pushed him down to the bed, straddling his thighs, your body bare from the waist down. He pushed you down onto his body, deepening the kiss. You pulled back, now peppering kisses down his exposed skin. 

He massaged the skin of your thighs, licking his lips, “And the marks I left on your body isn’t enough of a reminder?” 

“They are,” you murmured, sucking softly on his collarbone. He took in a breath, feeling himself growing hard under your rolling hips. “But it makes it easier to think about you when I touch myself when I can smell you.” 

Oliver threw his head back, taking all the strength he possessed to remove your body off him. You whined in protest, laying down on your back, defeated beside him. He propped his head with his hand, smirking at you, “You’ll be the death of me, Y/L/N.”

“Good.” 

Oliver left a few minutes after that conversation, making you sigh and bury your head in your pillow. You were so in love with the Quidditch captain and you knew you shouldn’t be. When you and him agreed to be friends with benefits, you both agreed that it meant absolutely no feelings, whatsoever. As far as you knew, Oliver was upholding his side of the bargain quite well, while you were failing miserably. 

It was hard not to fall for the boy. He was charming, kind, and not to mention, a great kisser. Whenever you two laid together, it almost didn’t feel like a mutual agreement. He has so much passion, so much care, every time you two were alone. Oliver would always ask you if you were okay, always made sure you were comfortable, and showered you with praise. He would bury his head in the crook of your neck, stating how good you made him feel. 

It’s been a few months since the start of your agreement and after each night, you felt yourself love him just a bit more than the previous night. In front of other people, you two acted like perfect friends, like everyone knew you as, but behind closed doors, you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He would pepper your face with soft kisses, tangle your fingers together, and murmur words of adoration in your ear the minute there were no eyes on you two. You knew it was a dangerous game you were playing but you couldn’t help but not care. Oliver Wood was addicting. 

The following morning, you winced as you hobbled down to the Great Hall, legs sore from last night's activities. You grimaced as you sat down at the table, across from Oliver who had a smirk on his face that he was trying to hide behind his cup. Fred chuckled beside you, nudging you, “Fun night, Y/N?”

“Shut it, Weasley,” you hissed, taking a bite from a piece of toast you plucked off his plate. “I may be feeling a bit injured at the moment, but I can still hex you into next Sunday.” 

“One day, Y/L/N, we’ll meet the bloke who’s making it difficult for you to walk.” George added.

“Why do you assume it’s because of a bloke?” you grumbled, stuffing your mouth with eggs. “What if I just fell off my broom at practice? Maybe I have cramps. Did you ever think about that, hmm?”

“Sure,” Fred said, he motioned at your neck, reminding you of the marks that probably littered your skin. “But I’m sure your fall didn’t cause all that.” 

You blushed under their gaze, lifting your fingers up to trace the tender skin. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, Y/L/N,” the younger twin shrugged, looking at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. “One day we’ll meet the bloke you say is the best lay of your life.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, completely forgetting that you confessed that to the twins during one party after drinking too much. You heard Oliver snort in front of you, smiling in a teasing manner. He raised his eyebrows as if saying, “The best lay of your life, huh?” You flipped off George, making him and his twin burst out in laughter. “Shut up, please.” 

“I think it’s cute,” Oliver chuckled, leaning over to stare at you. “You’re smitten with him, aren’t you?”

“You can shut up too, Wood.” 

The three boys howled in laughter. Oliver sent you a wink when the twins were too busy joking around to pay attention to the two of you. You blushed, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. Merlin, this is going to be difficult, you thought. 

-

Unfortunately, it’s been weeks since your last night with Oliver. The Quidditch team has been practicing more than ever and you were both too tired to really do much. When you weren’t practicing, you were doing homework, already behind on at least three of your classes because of your rigorous practice schedule. 

Oliver’s jumper no longer smelled like him, making you upset that you had to settle for friendly glances and secret touches in the hallways. Your love bites already faded as well, disappearing with time. You missed seeing the red marks on your skin, reminding you of your heated rendezvous. 

You were walking out of Potions when Blaise came up to you, a flirty smile on his face. He stopped you in your tracks, leaning against a pole. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hello, Blaise,” you raised an eyebrow, confused as to why the Slytherin was talking to you. You clutched your books closer to your chest, “Anything I can help you with?”

“Actually yes,” he licked his lips, reaching down to grab your hand. “I was wondering if you could accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend.” 

You looked down at your hand sitting idle in his palm, stuttering over your words and you spoke to him for conformation. “L-like a date?”

“Exactly like a date,” Blaise nodded, placing a kiss to your knuckles. “If you’re up for it.” 

“I-”

“Leannan,” A voice spoke from behind you. A hand snaked around your wait, pulling you close to them, and ripping your hand from Blaise’s grip at the same time. You turned your head to see Oliver, staring down Blaise. “What’s going on here?” 

Blaise stared back, “Just asking Y/N on a date, Wood. None of your concern.” 

“Actually it is,” Oliver replied, pulling you even closer to him. Your body grew hot, feeling Oliver’s protective grip on your waist. “We have plans this weekend. So I’m sorry that but she’ll have to decline.” 

He nodded, reluctantly, shifting his attention from Oliver to you. “Hm, maybe next time then.” 

Oliver grinned, a condescending smile on his face, “Sure, mate.” 

Blaise raised his hands up in defense, shooting you a confused wave before walking away. Oliver didn’t dare to remove his hand on you until Blaise was nowhere to be seen. When he finally let you go, you looked at him in disbelief, “What was that for?”

He rolled his eyes, “You should be thanking me, Y/N. I got you out of a date with him.”

“What if I wanted to go?”

“Please,” he chuckled, now taking Blaise’s original spot, “You wanted to go on a date with Zabini?”

“Maybe,” you huffed but you knew you had no interest in the Slytherin. 

“Why would you want to?” 

“He’s fit,” you stated simply, shrugging like it was no big deal. It wasn’t really a lie. Blaise was fit, but you weren’t interested. “Plus, I could get to know him and see for myself if I see something with him.”

Oliver scoffed, “Don’t waste your time with someone like him.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so harsh right now.”

“Because you deserve better.” 

“Oh right,” you spat, “And better in your definition is to be hidden away as nothing more than a nice quickie, right?”

Oliver blinked a few times, trying to process your words. He held your upper arm, concern over his features, “What are you on about?”

“All I am is a friends with benefits right, Oliver? That’s all I’ll ever amount to? Merlin forbid that someone would find interest in me beyond that.” 

“Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“You really are thick,” you chuckled, tears now spilling from your eyes. “It stopped being a quick fuck for me a long time ago Oliver. I’m bloody in love with you.” 

You stood there in silence, breathing ragged as you spilled your feelings to Oliver. You shook your head, turning around to walk away from him. You took a couple steps before you felt him grab your hand, twirling you around to push you into his chest. He chuckled, ignoring the way your books fell from your hand, as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “You wanna know why I told Blaise off?” 

“Why?”

“Because you belong with me, leannan,” he mumbled, lips ghosting over yours. “I’m in love with you, too.” 

You gulped, looking into his eyes, “You are?”

“Mhm.”

You placed your lips on his, sighing in content knowing you no longer had to hide your affections. Oliver wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up as he kissed you passionately. You squealed, sneaking short kisses on his lips as he laughed. He put you down, kissing your lips one last time before pulling away. 

“Oi, Fred!” George called his brother, a smirk on his lips as he hid behind a wall. 

Fred walked over to him, “What’s up, Georgie?”

George pointed at the two of you ahead of him, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. Oliver leaned down to kiss you again, this time backing you up against the wall to deepen the kiss. George grinned knowing that he won the bet. The younger twin held out his hand, “Five sickles, please.” 

Fred rolled his eyes, fishing in his pocket to get the money he now owed his brother, “Here.” 

George replied in a sing-song voice, “Thank you.”

“Shut up.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

[jamsiesir]

I think a combination between 4 and 13 will be amzinggg for jily

I hope you like it, anon! ♥

 A little jealousy in a relationship is healthy. It's nice to know that someone is afraid to lose you. + I think the worst thing about life would be having to go through it without you.

---

«... and I'll go to Hogsmeade with James Potter!»

Mary McDonald's voice seems to echo through the dorm room as Lily exits the bathroom after getting ready for the night. In the last weeks, there is something that knocks the air out of her lungs whenever James Potter's name is uttered in her presence, only that this time the feeling is awful: she doesn't feel as light as a feather, neither does her face heat up - Lily feels like her entire world is tilted upside-down, like those words have the power to make the Earth spin around its axis in the opposite way.

«What?» she asks before she can even think about it.

Mary (her lovely and adorable friend, Mary) beams at her and nods. «James asked me out at dinner and I said yes,» she says, then lets out a happy sigh.

Her happiness chills Lily's bones, sucking out her own joy - Lily doesn't know if she can pretend to actually be glad for her friend (who's harboured a crush for James for two weeks now - a thing that Lily has been secretly disliking).

«That's beautiful.»

… but she tries it, anyway.

«I've never thought it was possible: I mean, he's so handsome but he seemed to be interested only in you,» her friend goes on and Lily just nods, suddenly not really in the mood for talking.

«It's such a pity that his love is unrequited, isn't it?» Marlene asks and the question feels like a punch in her gut: Lily turns to look at the girl in the eyes, and finds amusement twinkling in them. She looks hastily away and goes to bed, feeling like she is being chased down by a vicious dragon. 

Sometimes we learn things about ourselves that we don't actually like to see: that night, as she listens behind her closed curtains Mary worrying about her outfit, Lily finds out that she is an awful friend.

 ---

«So - James and Mary.»

Lily is surprised to hear her own voice saying those words: she was only thinking about them, she doesn't want to speak about it. Remus raises his eyes from his Defence against the dark arts' essay to watch her: green meets green and Lily is almost too embarrassed to go on.

«Mary said that James asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him,» she explains, hoping not to sound too put out about the whole thing.

«Did she?» her friend asks, dipping his quill into the ink and beginning to write again.

Lily presses her lips together, ignoring her Potion's essay - she wants… Merlin, she doesn't even know what she wants out of this conversation.

«She was really happy,» she tells him after a long quiet moment.

Remus' mouth twitches and Lily can't help but notice he is suppressing a chuckle. «James was too,» he tells her. «He was very glad she said yes.»

He was very glad - Lily loses her breath again as acid goes up to her throat from her stomach. She swallows it down again. 

He was very glad - is he still very glad? Would he be happier if she… 

Lily shakes her head, suppressing that thought. «I didn’t think James was that type of friend - I mean, didn’t you have a crush on Mary in first year?»

Remus puts down the quill and raises an eyebrow, giving her a look that makes her feel chastised - her voice is perhaps too hateful as she says it. «Lily,» he starts, clasping his hands together. «as much as I’d like to believe that you’re trying to defend the honour of my eleven-year-old self, somehow I don’t think it would make you feel better if I said that James asked my permission to ask her out- something that he didn’t do, mind you, because Mary is her own person and because… really, a crush that lasts five days hardly counts,»  she opens her mouth to speak, but Remus stops her. «You know, James is trying to leave you alone just like you asked him to do since the Sorting - he knows the only thing you will offer him is this strange kind of friendship you two have right now,» her heart hurts as she listens to his words, trying to figure out why her own body is protesting against them. Remus seems to notice, because he says: «And if he is wrong about it, he will never know if you don't tell him.»

«He isn't,» Lily says, before she can stop herself. «I like being friends with him - he is everything you ever told me he was,» she confesses, remembering every time in the past Remus has defended James against her harsh words. «It’s just that - » what? His love may not be so unrequited now? Mary isn't the only one with a crush on stupid James Potter? «- Mary is my friend too.»

The way Remus observes her lets Lily know he may have guessed her inner debate. «It’s just a date,» he says with one of his Prefect's voices - the one he uses to reassure a scared first year. «They won't get married because they are going to go to Hogsmead together.»

It's not that, for Merlin's sakes, it's just that - «I know.» 

«- and James won't do anything that might hurt Mary. »

She doesn't even worry about it, she is just thinking about - «I know.»

Remus sighs and shakes his head at her, resuming his writing. Lily notices how his lips are pressed into a thin line, as if he is trying to decide whether or not saying something. «Lily,» and, again, their eyes meet. «Don't tell James I told you this,» he begins and Lily swears it, now more curious than ever. «You're still the only girl he talks about.»

Lily shouldn't feel this happy - she shouldn't - but her mouth is stretched in a sincere smile and her face is burning. 

---

Even if Remus' words calm her down a little, Lily avoids James in the days that precede the Hogsmeade’s trip. She doesn’t want to spend time with him, knowing that the very idea he could be interested in someone who isn’t here is making her miserable. Her mother always says  you don’t know you love someone until you lose them and this is the first time Lily actually understands those words. Still, she feels guilty whenever she needs to give him excuses as she attempts not to be in the same place with him, and she misses James terribly during the nightly patrols that Head Boy and Head Girl should do together.

The Hogsmeade weekend comes too quickly and, at the same time, way too slow and Lily feels like a right mess. Mary is already awake when Lily climbs down the bed and she is so pretty and excited that the muggleborn witch can’t help but smile at her chatter. Her stomach is churning as she brushes her hair and adjusts her uniform - the Head Girl pin seems to be slightly crooked everytime she watches herself in the mirror. 

«James» Mary calls out when Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and her enter the Gryffindor Common Room. «how are you?»

How is he? Lily asks herself watching him: James is unfairly handsome in his stupid uniform and the way he cards his hand in his own hair looking embarrassed is stupidly enticing. Lily has to actually shut her inner voice up about the state of his hair because - Merlin, James’ hazel eyes find her green ones for just a moment and Lily’s heartbeat is speeding up.

«Seeing something you like, Evans?» Sirius Black’s voice is like a bucket full of cold water right on her head. 

«Good morning to you too, Black.»

He waves his hand, like he is dismissing her greeting. «Our Jamsie looks particularly handsome today, doesn’t he?»

«Why? Are you fearing that someone could steal him away from you when you’re not watching?»

Sirius’ grey eyes study her face, then he smirks. «Nah,» he says. «I’m just making sure you know that someone is attempting to take him away from you while you are watching» then, he nods towards Mary, who is clinging to Potter’s arm as they speak.

Lily bites her bottom lip, her eyes pointed on the floor for a moment, then she fakes a smile and looks at Black. «I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall, tell Remus I’ll wait for him before going to Tomes and Scrolls» and with that, she is out of the room.

 ---

 James Potter is an arrogant toerag, a prick, a stupid git, an idiot and a complete asshole.

James Potter is handsome, funny, easygoing, unexpectedly kind and one of the most brilliant students in their year.

James Potter is hot and an amazing Quidditch player.

James Potter is sitting at one of Madam Puddifoot’s tables with Mary McDonald, smiling at her and making her laugh and Lily feels like crying.

She bites her lip and tries to calm down her laboured breath as she looks at the Shrieking Shack with stinging eyes - Lily shouldn’t be there alone, she should be in the village, offering help to younger students, looking out for them. However, the thought of witnessing James' and Mary's date makes her want to go back to the castle and lock herself up in her dorm room. 

«You know, you shouldn’t be this close to this place - people say it's haunted.» 

Lily's eyes widen and she wipes her cheeks as stupidly perfect James Potter appears at her side. Even his voice sounds attractive to her and - dear Morgana - Lily hates having a crush on James idiot Potter. 

She takes a deep breath, then turns to look at him - still unfairly handsome, fuck. «You're supposed to be on a date.»

«You are avoiding me» James says, instead. «I thought we were past this point - you've been talking to me for the last two months.»

«Where is Mary?»

«Things were great between us, weren't they? We talked, spent time together - do you know doing nightly patrols with you makes them bearable? I was stuck with Cain - Cain, Lily. He is more conceited than Sirius and I mixed together!»

Lily hides a laugh. «Pretty much conceited then» she replies, trying not to feel either guilty or flattered because of his words. «James, really, why aren't you with Mary?»

The wizard sighs. «Mary and I both agree we are better off as friends» he answers. «It’s okay because I asked her out without expecting anything.»

«Mary likes you.»

«She doesn't really like me - an entire day with me was enough to make her crush go away» James shrugs. «I don't know what it says about me, but I'm not complaining.»

«You asked her out.»

«Because I thought it would have been nice - I mean, even Remus thought she was pretty in those five days of first year.»

«Mary is pretty, and funny, and kind, and - »

«Lily, do you want me to date her?» James asks, a bit confused. 

«James, you asked her out.»

«Yes, I was there when I did.»

Lily sighs and, for a moment, she really doesn't want to look at him. «After three years of asking me out, you go and - and…» she lets out a frustrated sound. Merlin, she just wants to go to bed and hide from the world. 

James seems to be out of breath when Lily looks at him again and his hazel eyes twinkle with something that could possibly be realization. «Lily, why have you been avoiding me these past days?» he asks again, voice slightly hoarse. 

Because I like you, because being wrong about you feels like the best thing that has ever happened to me - and I found out I was a witch at eleven year old. 

Because I love spending time with you, talking with you, laughing with you. 

Because of the way you fight against prejudice - because I saw you comforting a muggleborn first year after a group of Slytherins threatened to hurt him even though he is just a child. 

Because you are brave and chivalrous, but also stupid and annoying. 

Because - 

«Lily, did you want me to ask you out?»

Yes, yes, yes. You stupid git, yes. 

«I feel stupid asking this, but Lily Evans - » because - «- were you jealous of Mary McDonald because you fancy me?»

Lily swallows down and looks at the Shrieking Shack, hugging herself to get some courage. «The last few days have been awful - I missed you too» she tells him, feeling her eyes burn again. «I missed you but I couldn't - you asked Mary, James. You asked my friend Mary out, I couldn't spend time with you knowing that you wanted to date her» her throat hurts. «I didn't want to -» Lily finally looks at him, biting her lip. «I avoided you and Mary, I was miserable, I spent so much time with Professor Slughorn and Madam Pince that I could as well be their bloody lovechild» James' mouth stretches into a smile. «So tell me, James Potter: did I want you to ask me out? Was I jealous because I fancy you?»

James is beaming at her - his smile is blinding and Lily actually asks how can he still see while doing so. Wouldn't it fog his glasses? 

«I dare say yes, Lily Evans, you fancy the pants out of me.»

Lily shakes her head, failing in suppressing a sob - James hesitates a bit before hugging her. «You're so annoying» she says, as she lets him comfort her. «Why do I have to fancy you?»

«I'm not that bad, you know?» James replies, holding her. «I still don't know how a fellyfont works, but - »

«Telephone» Lily corrects him, sniffing. 

«- and I fancy you too, if you didn't get the notice for the past four - five years.»

Lily snorts and hugs him too. «Seven years - you've been fancying me for the past seven years.»

«So you did notice.»

«You fought with the Giant Squid for my hand, Potter - you weren't exactly subtle about it.»

James laughs, a bit self-deprecatingly and puts his lips on her head, without kissing it. «What can I say? I like putting on a show.»

Lily smiles and looks up at him - they stare at each other, breathing quietly together while talking without words. «James» Lily says, and the wizard's hand caresses one of her cheeks. 

«Uh?»

«I fancy you - would you like to spend the rest of the day with me?»

«Are you asking me out, Evans?»

«I dare say that I am, Potter.»

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 16

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 16): 3,015

Word Count (Total): 51,359

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), coming out (kind of...)

***

27th April, 1998

Alarms blare loudly, ringing throughout the dark house. Why can’t I ever seem to get any sleep?! I scrub a hand down my face and groan. Something warm moves against my cheek and I’m instantly awake, reaching for my wand on the bedside table. But as my eyes adjust to the dark, I see that it’s Harry. Warmth rises up my face, a deep blush covering the skin.

“Using me as a pillow, were you?” Harry teases gently as he kisses my forehead. I melt against him for a second. Then the alarms register once again with a loud chime.

“What’s the alarm for?” I ask Harry in the dark, my voice scratchy and groggy with sleep.

“Shit!” Harry shouts, leaping out of bed and tugging me after him. “It’s Narcissa! She’s awake.”

“Mother’s awake?!” I yell out too and rush to put on my dressing gown. Harry kisses my hairline swiftly and tugs me more firmly out of the door.

Mother has been put in my old room—which of course I already knew, but it’s weird to be walking in that direction and expecting to see someone else in it—and my heart skips multiple beats as we walk ever closer. ‘Walk’ being the operative word. Harry’s strong grip on my arm is the only thing stopping me from running, but he thinks that that would probably startle her a bit too much at this hour.

“Harry?” I ask, coming to a rather absurd conclusion about exactly what hour it must be. “What’s the time?”

“Oh, um,” Harry pulls his wand out from his pyjama bottoms and casts a quick Tempus charm. I chuckle as the colour drains from his face. “It’s, uh- thirty six past seven…”

“We slept through the entire day,” I groan. It’s what I’d suspected. Harry, apparently wanting to make up for the lost day, quickens his pace and pulls me after him.

There is a dim light peeking out from under the bedroom door, and I force myself to count to four and just breathe for a second. There’s no telling how Mother might be on the other side of the door, and I can’t allow myself to believe that she’ll be fine. I need to be prepared for bad news, as much as I’d like the opposite for once. Harry pushes me in front of him and nods to the handle. He wants me to open it. I open my mouth, trying to think of something to say to thank him, but then decide that there aren't nearly enough words to convey it properly. So I lean close and capture his lips in a kiss, morning—or, evening?—breath be damned. Harry snakes his arms around my waist, but instead of pulling me closer like I’d expected, he pushes me away.

“Narcissa is much more important, you can thank me properly later.” I ignore the smirk behind his voice and turn the handle.

Light pours out of the room into the corridor, and my eyes instinctively shut with a snap to avoid going blind.

“Draco?”

“Mother,” I breathe out, relief flooding my thoughts. I step into the room, Harry’s hand finding a spot on my lower back. “How are you?” This is the first time I’ve spoken to her, with a chance she’ll actually respond, in weeks. Sure, talking to her unconscious body was communicating of a sort, but she couldn’t actually reply. It was more of a one-sided information dump than a conversation.

“I’m well, actually,” she stands up from where she was sitting on the bed and meets me in the middle of the room. Despite the fact that a little while ago she was fatally wounded and fast asleep, she looks very healthy right now. Her pale skin is no longer cloudy, but much more like porcelain, and her hair looks vibrant against her face. “How are you dear?”

I feel a warm blush creep up my neck. “I’m good, Mother,” I say, as I pointedly ignore Harry’s creeping hand roaming around my belt. “I have quite a lot to tell you though…”

“I can see that,” she responds with a matter-of-fact tone and raised eyebrows, as she looks at Harry with a thoughtful expression only visible through her eyes.

“Good evening, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry says with a smile and a nod. “I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered nicely.”

“Thank you, Mr Potter. I believe you had a lot to do with my rehabilitation.”

Harry nods again. “It’s no problem.” He then looks over at me and grins. “I should let you have some time with your son,” he suggests, still facing me but obviously addressing Mother. His hand pulls away from my back, and I force myself not to react at the loss of contact.

Mother looks at me with a knowing gaze, a small smile setting in place as Harry leaves the room. “Now, tell me everything dear.”

I swallow hard, wondering where on earth to start. Eventually I settle on unwrapping the glamours around my wings. I didn’t even know they were in place until I had to remove them. Harry must have set them up, so as not to bombard Mother when she has just woken again. I wait, my nerves digging into my heart and clawing at me. As I feel the first brush of air against my feathers, Mother gasps. Unfortunately, I also hear the sound of fabric ripping open. There goes my dressing gown and Harry’s shirt. Distantly, I think to myself that I must remember to mend them.

“Draco!” She murmurs in amazement, awe evident in her voice. “Oh Merlin, they’re gorgeous!” She places her hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes with a joyous gaze. “They are so white,” she murmurs. “Can I touch them?”

I could never deny her that, not when she’s looking at me like I’m her entire purpose in life. “Of course,” I whisper, terrified of shattering the moment and making her turn away. I’ve always hated her shields, the way she hides everything from the world. So now that they aren’t there, I don’t want to make her raise them.

Mother smiles, her eyes twinkling in the dim bedroom light. She spins me around, her hands switching shoulders as I face the doorway.

“Wow…” she breathes, running a reverent hand along the top of my right wing. The feathers tickle and twitch, eliciting a shudder at the odd sensation. I might never get used to it, but I will always allow it. “They are so soft, Draco.”

I hum in agreement, and her hand traces lines towards the outside of my wing. She runs it down the outside arc, smoothing down feathers as she goes. Another hand joins in, and now I have hands on both of my wings. My left is definitely more sensitive, I realise as Mother gently caresses it. I nearly moan out loud, but catch myself in the last second. That would have been embarrassing.

“I’m so proud of you, Draco,” Mother confesses when she turns me back around to face her. Her eyes are shining, a smile firmly pressed onto her lips. She’s willingly letting me see her, letting me understand her emotions. I pull her into a crushing hug, uncaring of the fact that we haven’t ever done this before.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I finally concede. A tear tracks down my cheek, leaving behind a shining trail.

Mother’s hand finds my hair, and she runs her fingers through it. “I’m here, Draco. Very much present, dear.” Her own tears fall out of her eyes, but I pointedly ignore the wetness I feel against my cheek. We don’t talk about things like this, so I don’t want to scare her off by acknowledging it. I might not be able to cope with that either.

“Why don’t you tell me about how you Rose?” Mother pulls away from the hug, rapidly turning around and walking back to the bed. She takes a second to compose herself as she sits, before offering me the armchair in the corner. “And about Mr. Potter, perhaps?”

I can hear the teasing in the second part of the question and stifle a groan. “Mother,” I whine.

“Now now, Draco. It’s perfectly natural.” I cringe at her tone. She only ever uses it when we’re talking about embarrassing subjects. “So, you’re a Risen Angel now. How did that come about?”

I heave a sigh of relief as the tone shifts and becomes more inquisitive. “As you know, I Fell in the Manor earlier this year,” I start.

Mother nods. “Yes, Lucius loved telling me all about it.” Her lips curl into a sneer of disgust. I’m sure that one day my parents loved each other, but those days ended when we were abused and tortured by his wand.

“Well, I managed to get a letter out to Harry, and he was able to bring me here,” I gesture around vaguely at Grimmauld Place. “Ever since then, I’ve been helping him win this war. The right side, this time,” I chuckle nervously. “With each piece of information I gave, or each mission we succeeded in, I slowly started Rising.”

Mother takes a minute to digest that, swallowing hard and wrapping her mind around it. “What was the Rising process like?” She asks eventually.

“Awful,” I laugh. “It started with growing the skeleton out of my back. It didn’t just slide out like in folktales, but my skin was torn open. Very painful.” I end the description there. Mother never has been good with blood, which I thought was rather ironic considering she prided herself on her pure blood. Prided, not prides. There is nothing to be proud about if that same pride results in genocide. “After that the feathers started to grow. Each time the skeleton folded back inside my skin and then re-emerged. It never became any less painful,” I say. “Actually, my feathers only became this white yesterday,” I explain. “I’m still quite sore, but Harry healed me quite well.”

“Is there anything different about it? I always thought that if an angel Fell, the chance of them Rising again was quite slim.”

It’s a good question. Once she found out what I was, she had been confused. For a start, being an angel is very rare. But even more so, being a male angel was one in a million. Probably more than. Mother had taken it into her hands to discover as much as possible in order to protect me. When I Fell, it had seemed like all of her hard work had been for nothing. Now that I’m sitting here in front of her, very much alive and healthy, she wants new answers. Ones that will explain our situation properly.

“Harry took me to a bookshop a few weeks ago, I believe it was the twelfth. Anyway, it was massive, with an even bigger collection of books. There was an entire section on Magical Creatures, and Harry managed to find a couple on Fallen Angels.”

Mother’s eyes widen, surprised to hear how easily we found information. That only lasts a moment though, replaced quickly with suspicion. “What is it, Draco? There’s something you’re not saying.”

I sigh. She always manages to pick me apart without much effort. “Yes. Last night Harry and I stayed up researching specifically about Risen Angels. We found that certain, uh, types of Risen Angels have unique abilities. Harry managed to narrow it down to about five types, and then I figured out which one I am.”

“And which one would that be?” Mother looks anxious, awaiting for my answer.

“I’m a Blackout Angel,” I explain. “I can control and warp light in any way imaginable.”

“Draco, do you know what this could mean for the war?” Her eyes have lit up now, like she’s delighted with this turn of events.

I sigh. “I do, but I’m not sure I’ll manage.” It feels weird, saying these words aloud. Harry would swat them away and assure me that we’ll figure it out, but Mother will be honest.

“Of course you will!” She exclaims. Well there goes that idea. “Draco dear, you were the top of all of your classes—except for that Granger girl who, let's be honest, won’t ever be beaten—and no one else has the ability to learn at the speed you do.” Mother shifts her hand to rest on my knee. “You will do fine, dear.”

I nod absentmindedly, not quite agreeing with her but not wanting to argue.

Mother breaks the silence, a random question filling the quiet. “Can I see?”

I tip my head to the right, eyebrows furrowing. “See what?”

“The skin. I want to check the healing process.” Ah, of course. Mother has always been rather adamant about checking injuries. Especially if they were caused by the man she married, or anyone else out of that group of monsters. I’m amazed she managed to sit through an explanation without jumping out of her skin.

“Well, you can try to look I guess. I can’t promise you’ll see anything.” I stand from the armchair and untie the dressing gown I’d put on a few minutes ago. It falls to the ground after a second of twisting it around my wings, leaving me in Harry’s cozy shirt. I feel a pang of regret as I spell it off me, the holes ripped in to compensate for my wings glaring up at me, but fold it neatly regardless. I take a second to pull my tracksuits up slightly, making sure they don’t ride down too low on my hips. Happy that I won’t accidentally flash my mother, I spin around and crouch before her.

Her cold hand gently touches my back, letting me know she’s started. From there, it slowly crosses my skin, inching towards the base of my wings. The inch of bare bone still juts out sharply, but now there is some kind of leathery skin covering it. Mother prises the feathers back and peers at my skin. Her fingertip traces the fragile skin, spiralling ever closer to the base. I flinch at a sudden twinge of sharp pain, and the hand instantly withdraws.

“Are you okay?” Mother asks in a quiet voice.

“Fine,” I reply. “Just a bit tender.”

She hums, but turns me around all the same. “You’ve got some bruising, but it should go down with time,” she says. “It seems that Mr. Potter has done a lovely job.”

I smile to myself at her casual approval of Harry, and redress quickly. After spelling the clothes to fit over my wings without tearing them—any more than they already are—I sit back down in the armchair and look at my mother.

“On the topic of Mr. Potter,” she starts. I stifle another groan. “What exactly is happening there?���

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat trying to prevent me talking. I shake my head and work out an answer that won’t give too much away immediately. “We’re close.”

Mother rolls her eyes in a display very unlike her. “Draco, dear, we both know that’s rubbish.”

I open my mouth to try to argue, but she gives me a pointed look. Sighing, I say, “Okay. We are very close.”

Mother looks on the verge of breaking. “Draco, you’re dating. You can’t disregard the way you look at each other.” She tips her head, analysing me in a rather unsettling way. “You also can’t ignore his hand on your lower back, and the way he tried really hard to make sure I was alright.” She pauses. “Plus, he truly has done a marvellous job on your back.”

Heaving a sigh, I crack. “Okay, yes. We’re together.”

“Perfect!” Mother exclaims.

“What?!” I ask. “Aren’t you angry? I’m gay, Mother!”

“Of course you’re gay dear, I was never questioning that.” She looks surprised at my outburst, like she thought I was insane for thinking she didn’t already know.

“Then why were you so insistent on marrying me off to a pureblood bride?”

“Oh Draco, that was what Lucius wanted, not me. I always thought that was old-fashioned.”

“But you never said anything!” I’m confused, not able to absorb any of the information.

“Correct. I couldn’t possibly refuse him, he would have put plans in place for the marriage regardless of what I said.” She pauses again, a glint taking over in her blue eyes. “Now though, he has no say over your life.”

I feel a small bubble of joy well up in my chest, and I allow a grin to spread over my mouth. “Thank you Mother.”

She smiles softly, and shuffles over on the bed so she’s sitting closer to me. Her hand rises and moves to my cheek. She smooths it over my skin in a way she hasn’t since I was a young child. “I am proud of you, Draco,” she says. “Proud of the fact that you managed to Rise, proud that you’ve finally found someone who makes you happy, and proud that you are helping the right side of the war win. You will single-handedly turn your fate away from the path your father and I put you on.”

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, and I rapidly blink them away. Mother has never said that before. “Th- Thank you,” I stutter out.

She offers me another smile before standing from the bed. “Now, I’m hungry and am going to fix myself a meal. Would you and Mr. Potter like one too?”

I grin back. “Harry and I would love to join you for dinner.”

She accepts my correction of Harry’s name with a nod and a smile, and turns to leave the room. As she gets to the doorway, she pauses. “Would you mind giving me directions to the kitchen, dear?”

I chuckle beneath my breath and tell her how to get there, as well as where the bathroom is in regards to the kitchen. She nods once more and makes her way down the hallway and then the stairs.

***

A/N: Two days late... Sorry for the delay, but I was really tired and didn’t want to put something out that I wasn’t happy with. I hope you’re doing well and that you’re staying safe Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @cowboy-simp @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @absolutetrashcan @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

[hphmbang2020]

A Snadger Story

Merry Christmas, @slytherincursebreaker !!

From your secret santa, @thewasp1995

Elia you know that hearts never lie

A scribbling of a quill scratched the line out.

“No that’s not it.”

Elia, where the mind rests the heart never sleeps

Were I never to wake to see you, tears I would weep

Another scribbling of the quill.

“Damn. Why can’t I find the right lines to this?” muttered a boy of average height with severe but handsome features and neatly combed brown hair.

Making sure no one else was listening in (the Slytherin dungeons were not very well lit and contained plenty of snoops) Felix dipped the quill back into the ink and attempted to resume his little project once more. But this wasn’t just another monotonous essay from Professor Snape….it was far more personal.

Felix Rosier had to resist blushing when he thought of Elia Westerling. A beautiful, vivacious Hufflepuff girl who hailed from Essex. The House of the Badger was often written off as uninspiring or even useless by some critics from other houses, but this particular Hufflepuff was someone he would never soon forget. Slim, curvy, with raven hair and hazel eyes, Elia had a personality to match- confident and self-assured but also playful and a tad mischievous which made her any boy’s match if they tried hitting on her. Felix had never tried himself, but by Merlin he wanted to and rather than embarrass himself with a cheesy pickup line, perhaps a poem would be able to better catch her attention.

Then there was the matter of her family- she was of mostly French and Turkish descent though she was English on her mother’s side, the fact was wizarding blood only went back two generations- two of her grandparents had been muggles. This made it that much harder to confess his feelings, his parents would certainly frown. He could already hear his older cousin, Evan admonishing him.

Intermarriage dilutes the magical blood, Felix. Even talking to one of those wretched creatures is an affront to everything we stand for.

Even with all this in mind, Felix had long decided not to pay much attention to his family’s pure blood prejudices. Elia was a witch that was indisputable, and a damn good one. He wasn’t going to let something so trivial get in the way of at least taking a shot. Besides, Evan had held onto that ideology with an iron fist and look where he ended up? Buried six feet under, killed by Mad-Eye Moody himself.

No, he wouldn’t let remnants of the Dark Lord’s memory bully him into deciding what he wanted, and that was Elia. The bigger question remained, however: how would he give her this poem?

“Alright, let me see…”

“Whatcha doin?”

The sound of a young girl’s voice made him jump almost ten feet in the air, spilling ink all over the desk.

“Merlin’s beard, Allison! Where do you get off sneaking up on people like that?”

“I don’t know,” the girl shrugged. “I was just bored and wanted to see what you were up to.”

Felix sighed. Allison Garrison had been nothing but a pain in his arse from the day she had arrived at Hogwarts. It was his first year being a prefect but the last he expected was for them to be so…blunt, or at least that was the case with Allison. She constantly talked back, caused mischief, and lost more house points from Professor Snape in one month than any other Slytherin in an entire year. His memory of his own time at age eleven was somewhat hazy but he was also quite certain that he had been able to keep his mouth shut for the most part.

This first year held no such ability.

“It’s just homework I have to do. Nothing that need concern you, Garrison.”

“It doesn’t look like homework.”

Good heavens, this girl just won’t let up.

“And how can you tell?”

“You keep crossing things out. Over and over again. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t take you that long to write a sentence for a Potions essay. And you’re mumbling constantly.”

Despite the negative attributes he associated with the first year Slytherin girl, Felix had to admit she could be quite clever and extraordinarily perceptive for someone her age. It was impressive and at times such as these, annoying.

“Whatever I’m doing, it’s still none of your business, Garrison. Now go.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that Hufflepuff girl you’re always staring at-”

Felix cut her off with a temporary silence charm before lifting it.

“Must you always be a problem?”

“How’s it my problem you can’t tell a girl that you like her?” Allison responded sarcastically with a hint of a smirk. “Oh, I can picture it now. A snake and a badger together in never ending love. A snadger! Yeah, that’s what I’ll call it. Snadger!”

“Garrison, unless you want detention, I suggest you take your prattling somewhere else.”

That threat seemed to finally work as she had served a few already and would not enjoy another session pickling toad guts with Professor Snape. Nevertheless, she continued to taunt him as she left the room skipping and singing, “Snadger, Snadger, Snadger” all the way out of the common room.

“The little first year is going to give me an aneurysm someday,” Felix muttered to himself, attempting to return to his poem. With any luck, he could finish it before dinner and give it to Elia then.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Felix ran a hand through his hair as he entered the Great Hall, all abuzz with activity as it usually was. He knew Elia liked it that way, but he didn’t want to make it seem like he had done it on purpose. Better to be casually aloof and spontaneous than give away it was all part of a calculated plan.

Making his way over to the Hufflepuff table, he received some confused even hard stares from some of them. It was no secret that Slytherin was the least liked among the four houses and while the puffs were not quite as hostile as the Gryffindors, there was a clear stark contrast between ideologies: hard work versus ambition, fair play versus cunning, honesty versus doing whatever it took to win regardless of moral implications. Thankfully, Elia did not share such sentiments- they had been friends since first year after all, but trying to confess your feelings to girl was still nerve racking all the same.

He tried to calm himself, taking a deep breath through his nostrils.

Just ask for a moment of her time, which she’ll give you. Read her the poem, ask her to Hogsmeade and it’s over. Easy right?

Before he could debate further in his head, an odd sight made him stop in his tracks. A first year Slytherin girl that looked painfully familiar was already chatting away to Elia of all people. Feeling his stomach drop three feet, Felix rushed over as quickly as he could.

“Of all things…what on earth is she doing talking to Elia?” he muttered.

When he reached the scene, the horror reached new levels.

“Oh, hello, Felix,” Elia said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I was just talking to one of your first years. She’s quite interesting you might say.”

“Interesting how?” Felix asked trying to keep his tone as light as possible.

“Oh, I told her everything,” Allison boasted but with a dangerous twinkle in her eye. “I told her you’re my prefect of course, how you keep trying to get me to stay out of trouble, the incident with Devil’s Snare, Merula, even giving me detention. She told me that you guys have been friends for over five years now.”

“That is true,” he replied tersely. Elia seemed like she was trying not to laugh but this was not unfolding the way he wanted it to. The mischievous look on Garrison’s face only spelled further trouble.

“So why haven’t you told her, yet? You know? About the po-mmhmhmmmff”

It was then that Felix’s patience ran out as he covered Allison’s mouth with his hand and spun her away from the Hufflepuff table.

“Very nice to see you, Elia,” he said forcing a smile that was more like a grimace. “But I do believe we must be going.”

He began leading Allison away but the Hufflepuff girl stopped him.

“Felix, it’s okay, let her go. I’d like to speak with you in private.”

Such a calm, reassuring tone from Elia, who rarely turned down an opportunity to tease him, helped deescalate the situation. He released Elia, but not before she licked his hand with her tongue.

“Ack! I’m not finished with you, Garrison. Stay here until I return.”

“Whatever you say,” Allison responded in that same sing-song tone. “Have fun, snadgers!”

Felix had to be practically led away from the Great Hall from the eyes of other prying Hufflepuffs, still mortified from Allison’s meddling.

She knows. She knows that I like her and she’s going to let me down easy. All because that stupid first year couldn’t shut her mouth for two seconds.

Upon exiting, Felix heaved a heavy sigh, figuring it was best to rip the bandage off quickly before the inevitable rejection came.

“Elia, I’m sorry about her,” he said. “I wanted to tell you myself, but she beat me to it, I guess.”

“Felix, you don’t need to apologize,” the Hufflepuff soothed him and then her infamous grin spread across her face like a Cheshire cat. “The truth is, I’ve known for some time.”

“Wait…you were already aware of how I felt?”

“Boys are hardly subtle,” Elia laughed. “Even a Slytherin such as yourself. I’ve caught you staring more than a few times.”

“So, why not say anything?”

“Well for one, listening to Allison jabber on like that was kind of cute.”

Felix couldn’t prevent the pink from spreading across his face.

“She’s getting detention for the rest of the year,” he muttered.

Elia placed a soft, feminine hand over his cheek, turning it to face her. This caused him to go from pink all the way to beet red.

“Felix, don’t punish her. She wasn’t trying to embarrass you; it was actually quite sweet. Nothing she told me was anything I didn’t know already. But she put in a good word for you, saying how you were a great prefect and how you wanted to ask me out with a poem. She thinks the world of you.”

He crumpled the piece of paper in his robe pocket.

“She does, eh?”

“Yes. And I don’t need a poem and an elaborate ritual to be convinced to go out with you,” she teased. “I’ll gladly go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend. Meet me in the courtyard at two o’clock.”

And then, without warning, Elia kissed him on the cheek and winked at him as she walked back into the Great Hall to rejoin the other Hufflepuffs.

Touching the spot where he had received the kiss, Felix proceeded to shuffle back towards the Slytherin table in a bit of a daze, wondering if he had actually just scored a date with the girl of his dreams until a loud, familiar voice snapped him back to reality.

“Felix?”

The Slytherin prefect looked down and saw the little eleven year old girl staring up at him. Functionality returned to his brain, remembering that he had instructed Allison to remain in the Great Hall until he returned.

“You told me to stay here. What’s my punishment?”

Looking into the eyes of the precocious first year, Felix knew she had tried to play matchmaker on purpose and true to Slytherin form, used her own brand of cunning to do it. But more so than that, he also knew that Allison also genuinely tried to make him look good as well, appealing to Elia’s heart and sensibility. The newfound revelation that this first year not only tried to help but liked him was touching.

“You’re off the hook this time, Garrison. Enjoy your dinner.”

Allison mocked fake surprised, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“Wow! Thanks, Felix! You really are the best prefect ever.”

Giving him a big hug, she skipped away to her friend Rowan but before sitting down, she added, “Enjoy your snadger date! Snadger, snadger, snadger…”

Felix rolled his eyes but allowed a slight smile to cross his face.

He knew this would not be the first nor the last time Allison Garrison caused him trouble.