#ootp missing moment

[startanewdream]

Why would I think you're weak? Everyone gets nightmares."

For hinny, preferably Ginny is the one with the nightmare

Please and thank you

hope you enjoy this sort-of missing moment that could have been:

*******

Harry walked absently to the Room of Requirement. It was still early, but he enjoyed arranging the room ahead of the D.A. lesson; for today, their first real class about the Patronus Charm, he had the idea of filling the room with mirrors so people could look at themselves while they worked the spell. As he reached the usual entrance to the Room, however, he realized he wasn’t the only one who had started early.

The door was already there, even before he asked for it.

He entered carefully, just in case someone had inadvertently found out about Dumbledore’s Army. The room seemed empty — until he noticed a figure in the farthest corner. For a moment, his stomach dropped, remembering the last time he had been there alone with someone — he and Cho weren’t really speaking these days, avoiding each other’s gaze after the disastrous Valentine’s Day date —, but the sight of vivid red hair told him it was someone else.

Ginny hadn’t seen him. She was facing the warm fireplace that was always lit, mumbling to herself. Her eyes narrowed in a fierce expression as she moved her wand; nothing happened, and she sighed unhappily, stooping her feet and looking up to the ceiling—now enchanted, like the Great Hall, to reveal the day sky above. 

Harry caught himself staring at her; it wasn’t the first time he’d done so, not with him teaching the D.A. Ginny’s spellwork had always impressed him; he remembered George once telling him that size was no guarantee of power when talking about Ginny, and though Harry hadn’t witnessed her famous Bat Bogey Hex yet, he could see what George had meant. Ginny had a strong raw power; even though she was still in her Fourth Year, she’d had no problem mastering any OWL-level spell Harry had shown the class. He would often compare her with her boyfriend, her usual duelling partner, and more than once Harry had thought she deserved someone better—he hadn’t said it out loud, but Michael Corner had looked quite bland—

“Ow!”

Ginny’s voice startled Harry. For a crazy moment, he’d thought she’d read his mind and was mad at him—then he realised she looked sheepish. 

“Sorry, I thought I was alone.”

Harry shook his head. “You were, I just came in. Are you practising?”

Ginny flushed as she nodded; it suddenly occurred to Harry that it had been a while since he’d seen that. It was weird seeing her looking flustered when she had been nothing but bright around him.

“You know, I appreciate the effort, but I cannot give you house points.”

As he had a feeling she would, Ginny chuckled.

“Prat,” she called without any malice. “Sorry, I meant Professor Prat.”

Harry smiled. “Much better.” Then he tilted his head. “What were you doing? You didn’t have any problem with the Shield Spell last class.”

“Ah.” She bit her lip. Harry had a sudden urge to ask her to stop it before she drew blood. “The Patronus Charm.”

That made him blink, suddenly aware he had been looking at her mouth.

“Patronus?” He repeated, startled. “We are just getting started.”

“Yeah, but…” Ginny took a deep breath. “It annoyed me that I couldn’t cast it.”

“It was just our first lesson—I mean, not even a lesson, it was just a lecture.” 

It had been the final part of the last D.A. lesson, last week. Satisfied that everyone seemed to have mastered the Shield Spell, Harry had started the Patronus Charm, the one spell everyone was excited about. He hadn’t much time, so he’d decided to explain the theory behind the charm — the first time he’d talked more than show any spell, and rather than seem annoyed, everyone had eagerly listened to him. He had given everyone some sort of homework — to think about their happiest memory — and, in the last five minutes of the lesson, he’d let everyone try the Patronus Charm for the first time.

A few people had managed a silvery wisp, nothing resembling any shape or that lasted more than two seconds. 

“Every time I try, nothing happens.”

“I don’t think anyone can cast it in their first attempt,” Harry said. When Ginny raised her eyebrows, he added, “I didn’t.”

“How many lessons did it take you?”

“A lot,” he answered truthfully. 

Her expression didn’t change. “You were thirteen when you first learnt it.”

“And I had Professor Lupin giving me private lessons. All you got… is me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are an amazing teacher.”

“I think you are comparing me to Umbridge, so—”

“Stop it.” She patted his arm playfully; her hand was warm. “You know you are a decent teacher, come on.”

“I noticed the downgrade from amazing to decent.”

A grin appeared in her lips as if she couldn’t help herself; Harry smiled in answer. He enjoyed her reaction.

“See, that’s better—you cannot try the Patronus Charm if you are all gloomy.”

“I wasn’t gloomy.”

“You were stomping your feet.”

“Maybe I had an itch.”

“Did you?”

“No,” Ginny admitted, and then she threw herself on one big bean couch that had just appeared behind her. “I’m really frustrated.”

Harry gave her a bracing smile as he sank on the couch next to her. “It was just your first try.”

“I got every other spell. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but something happened.” She waved her wand absently, not seeming to notice the sparkling dust that she was casting. “Now I could yell Expecto Patronum until I lost my voice and this wand wouldn’t be more useful than a random stick.”

“I get it,” he said bracingly. “I was disappointed with myself when it didn’t improve the way I wanted—but there is no secret, you just need to keep trying.”

“It is as if I can’t get it right—every spell I try, even when I don’t cast it, I can feel it, the connection between me and my wand. But the Patronus just eludes me.”

“What memory are you using?” Harry asked before he could think it through. He smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I know it’s personal.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not working anyway, so—” Ginny shrugged. “I thought about when I got my Hogwarts letter. I dreamed of it since I was two—” She caught sight of Harry’s face. “What?”

“That’s what I remembered the first time I managed something. It was just this silver shadow, but—”

“But it was a start.” Ginny sighed. “I’m not even hoping for a full corporeal Patronus, just one that gets the dementors far away from me.”

She shivered, her face whitening so much that Harry felt he could count the freckles on her cheek. 

For a moment that distracted him, until a long-distant memory resurfaced. He was thirteen and recovering after meeting a dementor for the first time; he’d just fainted, but the worst part had been hearing a woman’s scream. He hadn’t been in the best condition, so he hadn’t really noticed the small girl quietly sobbing in the corner of the train, looking just as pale as now—he’d never asked what Ginny had heard, but now he got a good idea…

“You had forgotten.” He blinked. Ginny was grimacing. “You are not the only one who hears You-Know-Who when dementors are around.”

“That was not what… I never considered what you would remember.” He bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You saved me. I was the one stupid enough to get involved with a Dark Lord.”

“You were not involved, I mean—you didn’t know who he was.” He met her gaze. “And I am sorry for forgetting what you went through. I guess it was just easier to think everything was all right.”

Harry remembered the final days of that term, when he had watched Ginny closer; after a moment’s struggle, she had looked happy, a bright version of the girl that had slowly shrinked that year. Even her brothers were visibly relieved that Ginny seemed to move on. At some point, Harry had just stopped looking for any distress sign.

Ginny sighed. “I know. That’s how I wanted you to perceive me. Not as the weak girl who couldn’t sleep at night because of her nightmares.”

“You are not weak. Why would I—why would anyone think so?”

“I still dream—”

“Everyone gets nightmares.” He thought about a graveyard, a cruel laugh, and a boy’s dead eyes. “It’s just a reminder that we survived. You survived.”

“Only because you—”

“Because you fought Riddle long enough to give me time to get there. You were eleven.”

“Saying like this makes me look stronger than I was.”

“You were strong. You are strong.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not saying this to excuse myself, but I forgot about you and Voldemort because I can’t see it when I look at you. You went through one of the worst things that any human could experience—I know how I felt just by thinking I was possessed—and yet you are here now, casting every spell, destroying those Death Eater dummies, and getting a reputation for that Bat Bogey Hex that I have yet to witness.”

He felt suddenly self-conscious of his speech, but Ginny was smiling softly now, and Harry just reminded himself that he was the teacher, he could be motivating even if it involved personal stuff. In any case, even her eyes were shining now, warmer; Ginny’s eyes were a nice shade of brown, like treacle tart.

“Let’s find Umbridge,” she suggested at last. “Then you can witness my Bat Bogey Hex, it will be epic.”

Harry chuckled. “I don’t doubt it, but I don’t think you’d want to be expelled.”

“I’d only be if I got caught,” she noted, winking at him. Then Ginny jumped, leaving a soft trace of flowers on the couch. “I’m going to get this.”

She closed her eyes, her expression confident. Harry couldn’t know what she was remembering, but a breeze filled the room, coming out of nowhere, and made Ginny’s hair move as if she was flying. Then Ginny opened her eyes —they were blazing—, flourished her wand and whispered, “Expecto Patronum!”

A silver shadow flew from her wand, dashing around the room before disappearing. It wasn’t shaped yet, but Harry could swear he saw a long snout and a floating mane.

“Yes!” She cried happily, beaming at Harry; for a moment, he thought she was going to hug him — he even opened his arms — but Ginny didn’t move. “It was something!”

“It was a perfect start,” he told her, jumping to his feet. Ginny looked bright now, and he didn’t think it was just an act. “What do you think it will be? Your patronus?”

“No idea. I think it had hooves.” She smirked. “It won’t be a stag, though, I’m hoping to be original here.”

Harry just smiled. “It’s my father. I mean, the stag represents my father. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.”

“Ok.” She nodded, watching him, her expression sober now. “I remembered the first time I took flight on a broomstick.”

“That’s also one of the memories I tried that first time learning the Patronus Charm,” he noted, amused. “I’m glad it worked better for you.”

“Flying made me feel free—and powerful. I think I’m done with Riddle’s voice in my mind.” Ginny paused for a moment, watching Harry, before taking a deep breath. “I was afraid that if I couldn’t cast the Patronus, it meant that, in some way, I wanted to hear him.”

“I get it,” Harry mumbled, not quite meeting her eyes now. “The reason why I got so bad around dementors was because I could hear my parents’ voices, when they were… in their last minutes. And it was the only memory I had, so for a while I hung on to them.” He risked a glance at her. Ginny didn’t look pitiful, so he felt safe enough to give her a small smile.

She shook her head.

“I think you are very generous to compare you missing your parents with my unhealthy relationship with the diary that almost killed me, Harry, but that’s just you.”

“Well, what made me cast the Patronus Charm was that I could not risk us losing another Quidditch match.”

“Priorities.”

“I can tell all the effort paid off in the end.”

“Isn’t it true that you managed to fight off a hundred dementors to save Sirius?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “But I was thinking that Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup that year after all.”

She grinned back. Ginny had dimples when she smiled; she could be as bright as a Patronus, Harry thought suddenly. She’d manage to cast one soon, he just knew.

He was about to tell her this when the door of the room opened. Ginny glanced at the door before taking a step back, her face only slightly flushed as she asked him, as if continuing a different conversation, “How can I help you?”

“Huh?” Harry said, confused. The group of Ravenclaws had just entered, and while they were greeting him, Cho had given him a smile, though somewhat avoiding his gaze.

“The Room,” said Ginny patiently. “You like to get the Room ready before the lesson, and I thought I could be useful—hi, Michael.”

She waved at her boyfriend, and for a moment, it crossed Harry’s mind that there was as much enthusiasm in her voice as in Cho’s smile to him. 

He shook his head. “Mirrors, it might be helpful.”

“I’m on, Professor Potter.”

“Not prat anymore? I see the improvement now.”

“Like I said, you are kind of decent, Harry.” She winked at him, clearly amused, and turned around; as mirrors appeared on the corners of the room, her boyfriend joined her, hands hanging on the inside of the pockets of his robes and just watching her.

I didn’t like him, Ron had said it once, and though Harry didn’t think he’d share this thought with anyone, he couldn't help but agree with Ron.

[seriouslysam8]

New One-Shot Alert

Of Treacle Tarts and Photo Albums

Ginny didn’t know why Harry talked to her when he was upset, but he did. While Ron and Hermione bicker over who should talk to Harry, Ginny takes matters into her own hands.

Because, I legit, have zero chill.

Missing Moment Series

[tedwardremus]

Constant as the Northern Star

Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter sat at the warm dark kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. His elbows were on the table and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose causing his round glasses to lay askew on his face. His astronomy homework was spread out in front of him. He was pretty sure it was mocking him.

"Use the knowledge of coordinate graphing and ordered pairs to create a map of the Summer Sky in the Northern Hemisphere."

The stars and planets on his parchment seem to refuse to align themselves into the neat patterns Professor Sinistra had described in class. Frustration gnawed at him, but he was determined to conquer the assignment, or at least finish the homework before Hermione nagged him again.

A door creaked open and Harry looked up to see his godfather, Sirius Black enter the room. His tall frame filled in the doorway as he observed Harry for a moment, taking the mess Harry had made of his kitchen table before he made his way to the table.

"Having some trouble with homework, Harry?" Sirius asked, pulling up a chair beside him and leaning back against the chair until the two front legs hovered above the ground.

Harry sighed, pushing his parchment away. "Yeah, astronomy. I can't seem to make sense of it. It's just a bunch of dots to me. I asked Lupin to help before he left this morning but he apologized and said he had slept through most of his astronomy classes"

Sirius let out a small chuckle as he picked up the sextant that Harry was using as a paperweight "Yeah, he was always fond of a nap. Always tired, the poor sod. Could never get him to a class before ten in the morning either."

Harry was reminded of the first time he met Lupin, sleeping on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione and Ron thought he was dead. Before Harry could share the memory Sirius gave Harry a surprising offer, "Well, I used to be quite good at Astronomy. Want me to help you out?"

Harry's green eyes narrowed as he looked at his closed textbook. As if trying to judge the seriousness of the question. "You would do that?"

"Of course," Sirius replied with a warm smile. "I always enjoyed stargazing. You know, it's not just about memorizing constellations; it's about understanding the origins of the universe and the evolution of life and matter. Especially when you get to the more theoretical stuff if you take NEWT level."

Harry silently nodded. The only time he could remember an adult offering to help with his homework was Florean Fortescue the summer before his third year.

Sirius began to explain the basics of charting the stars. He helped Harry renumber the coordinates on his parchment and shared a few facts about the stars they were charting as they worked their way along the map. Sirius enthusiastically discussed the differences between Hipparchus' and  Ptolemy's star catalogs and the importance of the Dunhuang Star map.

As Harry did his best to absorb the knowledge, he looked at Sirius with curiosity. "How did you become so good at Astronomy? Did you want to be an astronomer?"

Sirius's expression grew somber and gave a dark snort. "No, didn't really have time to think about a career before. Went straight into fighting a war and then, well you know what happened after."

It dawned on Harry for the first time how young Sirius and his parents were during the first war. That they didn't even have time to think about their careers before getting swept up in the last war.

"We didn't share many interests or beliefs," Sirius set down the quill he was holding and turned his body to face Harry while he spoke "But stargazing as a hobby was something that I always enjoyed doing with my father. It was an interest that we could share together." Sirius looked over Harry's shoulder and pushed a long strand of hair out of his face. Harry thought Sirius' eyes must be lingering on the Black Family crest on the wall behind him "Looking at the stars always brought me peace, Harry, even in the darkest of times."

Harry pondered this for a moment before asking, "Can you show me how to find London in the night sky? I'd like to know where you are while I'm at Hogwarts."

Sirius's eyes twinkled and he gave Harry a small smile. "Certainly, Harry. Let me show you some basics of celestial navigation."

Sirius picked up the quill again and emphasized how knowing the location of the North Star was crucial for navigation. He showed Harry tips on how to easily find the North Star and described the concept of Polaris as a constant guide in the night sky.

One summer later, locked up in Privet Drive, Harry looked out his tiny bedroom window and charted the stars the way his godfather had taught him and found the brightest star in the sky, Sirius, in the vast celestial expanse.

Though exhausted with grief, Harry felt a warmth that went beyond the summer sky and the boundaries of time and distance. In the darkest moments, Harry would look up at the stars, knowing that he could always find his way, guided not just by the north star but by the glow of the brightest star, by the love of a godfather who would always, in some way, be a part of his life.

[ifyouvegotenoughnerve]

Against All Odds Part 3: To Be Worthy

Part 3, in which Ginny and Neville share a conversation after their unfortunate encounter at St. Mungo's over the holiday. Takes place during Order of the Phoenix.

AO3 | FFN

Summary:

A series of one shots based on the development of Ginny Weasley & Neville Longbottom's friendship throughout the series. Ginny sees Neville for the first time since learning of his parents' fates at St. Mungo's, and offers a way to channel their heroics within his daily life.

Snippet:

“I’m sorry, Neville,” she whispered. Both for him being forced into a scenario where the situation with his parents was explained rather than him telling them on their own time, and for the tragedy itself. For how everyone in school underestimated him, having no concept of the strength he held in light of this horrible situation.  “Please don’t be,” he mumbled in reply, and the two met eyes for a moment. She felt a shifting tension in the air.  “I’m not ashamed of them, you know,” Neville said, with a sudden defiance in his voice. Ginny blinked in surprise. “Of course not, I didn’t mean -” “I know you didn’t. I just don’t want people to think that’s why I don’t talk about it. I’m not ashamed of them at all. I’m proud to be their son.” He turned to face her, something unreadable swirling behind his green eyes. “I don’t want people to pity me. And I don’t want people to make comments about them, not because I’m ashamed of them but because I’m ashamed of me.” Ginny bit her lip, reaching her hand out to rest on his arm. “Neville…” “I don’t want people to make excuses about the way I am, saying it’s because of them. It’s not. They were amazing people, Gin, you heard Gran talking about them. They were Aurors, and they were good at everything they did and they were impossibly brave and I’m not.” Neville’s voice cracked, but he continued on. “Everybody in my family knows that. I’m a disappointment compared to them. I’m so proud to be their son, Ginny, but I’m so ashamed that I’m the son they have.” 

[romione-trope-fest]

Thunderstorms

Title: Thunderstorms

Author: Mertronus

Tropes: OOTP Missing Moment & Cockblocker Harry

Summary: A thunderstorm shakes things up inside Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

Rated T

Word Count: 1190

No Trigger Warnings…unless thunderstorms aren’t your thing

A loud clap of thunder sounded throughout the house, and the room was momentarily illuminated by a flash of lightning. Hermione pulled the blanket closer around her as she tried her best to read through the storm, but the truth was, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was dark, gloomy, and spooky on its own. Add a raging summer thunderstorm to the mix…

And it was downright awful.

Hermione threw her book onto her bed as another clap of thunder sounded. She looked over to the other bed where Ginny slept. Ginny could sleep through anything.

Much like your brother, Hermione thought with a sigh.

The thought of Ron had Hermione on her feet, wrapping her dressing gown around her and shoving her feet into her slippers. If a book couldn’t distract her, maybe Ron could.

Ron and Harry…

Yes, she would find the boys and they would keep her mind off the storm.

Hermione thought that the house was quiet given the amount of occupants in it…surely they weren’t all asleep already?

No, she knew that at the very least, Harry and Ron were awake. They never went to bed early.

She crept toward the stairs to head to the next floor where the boys’ bedroom was, but as she passed the drawing room, a flash of red hair caught her eye. She quickly redirected her steps and poked her head into the room.

Ron sat in the corner playing a solitary game of chess. When her feet hit a creaky floorboard, his head snapped up.

“Hey,” he called out quietly. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said entering the room fully. “I’m fine. What are you doing in here alone?” She perched on the sofa closest to where Ron sat. “Where is everyone?”

Ron sat back in the chair and stretched. His too-short pajama shirt lifted a bit when his long arms stretched over his head, and Hermione caught a glimpse of her best friend’s pale, flat stomach. It was littered with freckles, as was every other part of Ron’s body that Hermione had seen, and she could just make out a thin, light trail of red hair leading down toward—

“Hermione?”

“Hm, what?” Hermione jumped and stared at Ron wide-eyed.

“I said Ginny’s asleep I suspect?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, then cleared her throat. “Yes, yes Ginny’s already asleep. In our room. Where I just was…in bed. My bed. Where did you say everyone was?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Mum and Dad are in bed, Fred and George are doing Godric knows what in their room, and last I saw Harry he was with Buvkbeak and Sirius.”

“Oh?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. I came down here to give them a moment. Felt like Harry might need some time with his Godfather before we head back to school.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed. The constant worry about Harry sometimes plagued her. At least here, at Grimmauld, not only was Harry safe, but there were so many others to worry over him as well.

“What about you?” Ron asked as he stood to join her on the small sofa. “Can’t sleep?”

Their legs brushed as he sat, and her breath caught. Even with all of the times she and Harry had touched or bumped into one another in some way, and yet she never felt the way she did when Ron was so much as a foot away from her. In the same room even.

“No,” Hermione said pulling her legs up onto the sofa and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head on her knees and looked at Ron. “Can’t sleep.”

A roll of thunder sounded in the distance and Hermione watched the realization cross Ron’s eyes. “The storm.” Hermione nodded. “You’ve never liked storms.” Hermione shook her head. “I think it’s passing though,” Ron offered.

Hermione shrugged. “I think we’re still in for a long night.” As if to verify her thoughts, thunder sounded and it was much louder than it had been just a few moments before…closer. Hermione itched to move closer to Ron, but that would mean admitting that she was even more scared than she’d ever let on.

Ron shifted on the sofa, angling his body to face her. “Hermione if—”

Just then several claps of thunder rang out so loudly that the house seemed to shake from the sound alone. Hermione shrieked and jumped, then hid her face as she tried to calm herself from the fright.

It’s just a storm…nature…happens all the time…nothing to be afraid of. Pull yourself together Granger!

“Shhh, it’s alright,” a soft voice cooed in her ear. She buried her face in deeper and took a shaky breath.

It wasn’t until the smell of Ron invaded her senses that she registered where she was.

His hands were rubbing her back, his arms wrapped around her. Her face was buried in his chest as her hands grasped his shirt for dear life. His warm thighs were under her bum…

Hermione had literally lept into Ron’s lap.

With wide eyes, she raised her face to look up at Ron. She mentally prepared herself for the teasing, the jokes…but she was only met with a look of concern.

“Y’alright?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“M’sorry,” she mumbled, moving to get herself off her lap.

Ron’s arms tightened around her. “It’s okay. But are you okay?”

Hermione gazed at Ron, his face no more than an inch from hers. Thunder sounded outside, but she never felt safer.

“I am now,” she whispered.

One side of Ron’s mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin, and Hermione’s eyes drifted down to his lips. She wondered how it would feel to press her lips to his…just once. She wasn’t sure if she was leaning into him, or if he was leaning into her.

Or if they were simply leaning into one another.

Time seemed to stop as their mouths seemed to be no more than a breath apart. She could smell the sweet chocolate on his breath. Another breath and—

“That was a loud one, wasn’t it?” Harry called as he entered the drawing room. Hermione jumped up at the first sound of his voice and turned to act as if she were looking out of the window. “You alright, Hermione?”

“Fine,” she breathed out as she tried her best to reign in every emotion that was coursing through her body.

“That last hit of thunder spooked Buckbeak so bad, Sirius and I had a rough time settling him.”

Hermione turned from the window and found that Harry had taken her place on the sofa beside a very red Ron.

“He’s alright now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the sofa. “Yeah, he’s fine now.”

“Good,” Hermione nodded. “Well, I’m going off to bed. You two need to do the same.”

Without another glance at Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room.

[tieitoffinlace]

confession as a harry girly i never got over my grudge w percy weasley after tgat note he sent ron shit talking him in ootp

like i know he was just worried about his brother but at the same time fuck that noise what was he being messy for 😭

[hpseeker99]

Ginny: So you’re telling me I’m supposed to squeeze this stress ball and not just throw it at whoever is stressing me out? Hermione: *putting an ice pack on Harry's eye* Yes!

[desipotterhead18]

Hello Hinny Shippers

Here are my favorite hinny fic recs

[PART 1]

OOTP :

1)but i’m a fire, and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm by @soceitysgot CanonCompliant, set in and around OotP, Missing Scenes, Harry/Ginny

2)A Desperate Apology by CharmHazel Summary: Having been put in his place by Ginny, Harry feels the need to apologise after forgetting an awful experience.

Pre-HBP / HBP one-shots :

1)Chocolate (in the Common Room) by @startanewdream Summary: "We could start a tradition,” Ginny suggested. “Of sharing chocolate eggs.” His heart skipped a beat. “We will need to find a new spot next year.”

2)Summer rain by @startanewdream Summary: On a rainy day, Harry and Ginny play a test to prove there is no fail-safe secret to fall in love.

3)Wish by @secretkeeper13 Summary: Harry and Ginny share banter, feelings, and a Christmas wish in this missing moment set during HBP.

4)Wannabe by @secretkeeper13 Summary: The Sixth Year Gryffindor boys discover the Spice Girls, but Harry only wants to be Ginny’s lover.

5)Christmas with Cormac by secretkeeper13 Summary: A Half Blood Prince missing moment, as told by the incomparable Cormac McLaggen.

6)Priorities by @starlingflight Summary: Ginny gives Dean his jumper back, and Harry is definitely not relieved to see it.

7)Halloween Monster by floreatcastellum Summary: Just days after seeing Ron's sister and Dean snogging in a corridor, Harry must now endure a Halloween Feast with them.

8)up against the wall with me by @takeariskao3 Summary : Day-dreaming harry

9)Like Her Paper Chain by MerryMagicalMenagerie Summary: It’s Christmastime at the Burrow and Harry can’t sleep as usual. What will he find when he descends the stairs in a side mission for a late night drink?

10)Distraction by @celtics534 Summary: It was the perfect sneak attack, and for once, Harry was okay that trouble had found him.

11)Hanging by a Moment by @celtics534 Summary: You remember some moments forever and Harry was pretty sure that this moment would be one of those. A missing HBP moment.

12)Happily Impervious by @ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey Canon compliant, HBP, Romilda Vane POV on Harry & Ginny's relationship.

13)Amortentia by StarlingFlight

14)Boyfriend by @sophie-hatter-jenkins Summary: Harry returns to his dormitory after kissing Ginny, to find Ron waiting for him.

15)The Slug Club Dinner by @pottermum Summary: Harry gets a night off his detention with Snape but has to go to the Slug Club dinner. He finds himself attending with Ginny Weasley, his secret crush. Set during HBP, some dialogue taken from book and movie.

16)twist my head and leave me breathless by balmiki Summary: HBP period, Harry pining after Ginny as she continues to be downright adorable.

17)Boyfriend (1219 words) by sophie_hatter_jenkins Summary: Harry returns to his dormitory after kissing Ginny, to find Ron waiting for him.

(ff.net)

1) Breakdowns in Broom Sheds by Laury the Latrator

2)Late or Early Babblings by Daydreaming Lover

3) The Best Date I Never Had by quidditchmum

4)The Astronomy Tower by asiriusfanff

5) State of Grace by thirteencharms

6). Gentle Touch by hpfangal

7) Oi Potter by celtics534

8) Overjoyed by celtics534

9) Until You Can Fly Again by JamieBell

10) Thoughts on a Train by rumpelsnorcack

11)After the Summer's Gone by Scarlett71177

12)Perseids by StartanewDream

HBP multichapter :

1)Realising (2/2) by floreatcastellum Summary: Harry realises he is in love with Ginny.

2)Torch by @gryffindormischief, fightfortherightsofhouseelves Chapters: 12/12 Summary: Over the course of his life, Harry's faced death quite a few times, and none of it has been quite as terrifying as falling for Ginny Weasley.

3)Fallin' All In You by StarlingFlight Chapters: 10/10 Summary: There's a week to go until the Gryffindor Vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch final and tensions are rising and not just between the houses.

4)Everything I Wanted by StarlingFlight Chapters: 14/14 Summary: Harry and Ginny share a very public kiss after the Quidditch final; three weeks later they break up. This is everything in between. I have also written the week leading up to the final (Fallin' All in You). You don't need to read it first but it's there if you want to.

5)every few lifetimes (16875 words) by societysgot Chapters: 1/2 Summary: The thing was, that Ginny Weasley had always been — pretty. This was an undisputed fact, in Harry’s eyes. A known truth. But seeing her like this; ripples of laughter falling from her lips, fair yet sunkissed skin, collecting more freckles by the day, all curves and long legs — was different, was staggering.   (Or, the one where Harry and Ginny become more than friends).   CanonCompliant, Set in and around HBP, Missing Scenes, Harry/Ginny.

DH (one-shots/multi) :

1)Into her sleep by Startanewdream Summary: “…after a while Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny's name in the girl's dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right.”

2)Close your eyes (that way you can't be tempted) by Startanewdream Summary: Some movie adaptations are better than the original books. Sadly, this is not the case in Harry and Ginny's story. Here is an attempt to fix some movie scenes.

3) Memoirs of a Four-Eyed Wizard  by My Wicked Quill (on ff.net)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

We don't talk enough about Ron's mean streak

Like, I saw a lot of people talk about how funny Ron is (which is true, he's genuinely one of the funnier characters in the series), how loyal he is when it counts, he's brave as hell, and he is really smart, just not book smart. But what I don't see talked about enough (maybe it's just me though), is Ron Weasley's mean streak.

I talked about how Harry most definitely has what it takes to be a Slytherin, can be scary, and is willing to kill when push comes to shove. I also mentioned Hermione's ruthlessness, but I didn't discuss Ron's mean streak which is a joy when I see it crop up in the book. When it comes up, it always reminds me of the twins, and I feel like that's where Ron got it from.

So I'm just going to bring up a few quotes I had in my notes showing Ron's mean streak, I'm sure I missed some from the earlier books, but I find it a fun aspect of his character.

Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he’s all right?” she squealed through her fingers. “Who cares?” said Harry and Ron together.

(CoS, 178)

This type of reaction is seen with Ron pretty often. He really doesn't care when someone he dislikes is hurt or injured and he is very vocal about it. He and Harry kinda share this trait, as seen above.

Later in the other quotes I bring up, I show that Hermione is the one usually playing morality police for Ron and Harry even if she herself isn't as innocent as she likes to act.

He raised Ron’s Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, “Obliviate!” The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to the floor. Next moment, he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock. “Ron!” he shouted. “Are you okay? Ron!” “I’m here!” came Ron’s muffled voice from behind the rockfall. “I’m okay — this git’s not, though — he got blasted by the wand —” There was a dull thud and a loud “ow!” It sounded as though Ron had just kicked Lockhart in the shins.

(CoS, 280)

I love this, Lockhart explodes the cave, obliviates himself, and Ron's reaction is to kick him in the shins. I don't know, I just find it hilarious.

“Don’t talk to me,” Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened. “Why not?” said Hermione in surprise. “Because I want to fix that in my memory forever,” said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. “Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . .” Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates. “He could have really hurt Malfoy, though,” she said. “It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it —” “Hermione!” said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, “you’re ruining the best moment of my life!”

(GoF, 207)

Here you see Hermione the morality police crop up, but I'm talking about Ron here.

Hermione is definitely right in that Draco could've been seriously hurt, but Ron is just glad he saw Malfoy suffering. Actually, in the scene before it, Ron was the one who wanted to curse Malfoy and was held back by Harry and Hermione (as well as in the eat slugs situation in CoS), like, with as much as Harry calls Draco his nemesis, it really feels like Ron is the one that hates Draco and thinks of him as his nemesis.

“She’s an awful woman [Umbridge],” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.” “I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

(OotP, 324)

I love you, Ron.

This is one of my favorite quotes for him. Hermione shuts down the poison idea, but I think they should've given it a shot, I think it could've been fun.

It would've been cathartic for them at least.

“You take Remedial Potions?” asked Zacharias Smith superciliously, having cornered Harry in the entrance hall after lunch. “Good Lord, you must be terrible, Snape doesn’t usually give extra lessons, does he?” As Smith strode away in an annoyingly buoyant fashion, Ron glared after him. “Shall I jinx him? I can still get him from here,” he said, raising his wand and taking aim between Smith’s shoulder blades. “Forget it,” said Harry dismally. “It’s what everyone’s going to think, isn’t it? That I’m really stup —”

(OotP, 528)

I love how Ron always has Harry's back and is ready to fight anyone (including Sirius who he thought was a mass murderer when he was 13 with a broken leg) for Harry's sake. It's a real vibe the Golden Trio has that they're just ready to drop everything and curse out anyone for each other's sake. They are just so protective of each other and I love this for them, how they are all just each other's people, yk.

It's also another example of how Ron is the one of the trio that offers violence as the answer the most often.

“Reparo!” said Hermione quickly, mending Ron’s cup with a wave of her wand. “That’s all very well, but what if Montague’s permanently injured?” “Who cares?” said Ron irritably, while his teacup stood drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. “Montague shouldn’t have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? If you want to worry about anyone, Hermione, worry about me!”

(OotP, 679)

Again Ron doesn't care for the injury of people who he considers deserving.

“Madam Pomfrey says she’s just in shock,” whispered Hermione. “Sulking, more like,” said Ginny. “Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this,” said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking wildly around.

(OotP, 849)

Like, regardless of whether Umbridge was SAed or not (for the record, I don't think she was) it's not a nice thing to do. Umbridge is awful, but this is Ron literally spreading salt on the wound. but like I mentioned above, she's in the "deserving it" category.

“will you stop pretending to be asleep when Lavender comes to see you? She’s driving me mad as well.” “Oh,” said Ron, looking sheepish. “Yeah. All right.” “If you don’t want to go out with her anymore, just tell her,” said Harry.

(HBP, 411)

That is honestly so mean. Like, I'm not Lavender's biggest fan, I find her annoying, but she's a teenage girl in her maybe first relationship and she did nothing really wrong. I feel truly sorry for her for how Ron treated her, it wasn't really her fault. It's just mean that he pretends to sleep instead of talking to her.

“Same as he wanted at Christmas,” shrugged Harry. “Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry’s new poster boy.” Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to Hermione, “Look, let me go back and hit Percy!” “No,” she said firmly, grabbing his arm. “It’ll make me feel better!”

(HBP, 650)

Like, this is peak sibling behavior, but as I mentioned earlier, Ron tends to want to resort to violence more often than Harry and Hermione do (especially in the earlier books, as Harry does grow angrier after Sirius' death). He is usually the one to bring violence up, and I find it an interesting aspect of his character.

And Ron is correct in the fact hitting Percy would make him feel better. Not saying if it's the right thing to do, but Ron really would experience it as satisfying because Percy would deserve it in his mind.

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.” Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head.

(DH, 167)

As I mentioned in one of the Harry posts, Harry is calling the shots, but Ron is the one who offered to kill the Death Eaters. He put that idea on the table. He was relieved when Harry said they shouldn't kill them, but if Harry said it'd be better if they killed them — Ron would've backed him up and done it, while Hermione might've preferred to pretend it wasn't happening.

“That treacherous old bleeder.” Ron panted, emerging from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it to Harry. “Hermione you’re a genius, a total genius. I can’t believe we got out of that.” “Cave Inimicum. . . Didn’t I say it was an Erumpent horn, didn’t I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!” “Serves him right,” said Ron, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs, “What’d you reckon they’ll do to him?” “Oh I hope they don’t kill him!” groaned Hermione, “That’s why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn’t been lying!”

(DH, 424)

Again, Ron not caring/enjoying when people who deserve it suffer. Xenophilius wanted to help them, he tried to persuade them not to come into his home at first so he wouldn't give them in, he tried so hard even though the Death Eaters had his daughter! Harry rightly feels bad for Xenophilius and Luna, it's easy to understand why he did what he did.

Hermione and Harry hope he is fine, but Ron is the one who thinks he has it coming. That he deserves to have his house blown up for betraying them, regardless of his reasoning.

I think Ron is the most black-and-white in his thoughts about people among the trio. There are those who deserve anything that comes to them and those who don't. Specific circumstances and context don't really play a part in what bad people deserve coming to them.

I don't know, I just find this interesting.

Harry has the compassion to understand people, even ones who harmed him or the people he cares about, he is capable of forgiving Voldemort and never really hated Draco.

Hermione is pretty black-and-white in her view of people, having the people she trusts and those she doesn't. She trusts Snape because he's an authority figure trusted by Dumbledore (and Hermione is the one who is truly Dumbledore's woman true and true in the books). Her view on people has less to do with their actions, but who they are endorsed by. She is compassionate to Xenophilius because he's Luna's dad, and Luna is good, therefore, she wouldn't love someone who is bad.

Ron is black-and-white in how he sees people in a very different way than Hermione. He looks at actions, and if you do anything to try and harm him or people he cares about, you get on the shit list. Getting out of Ron's shit list is probably not easy, he doesn't strike me as one who forgives easily and readily the way Harry does, but he does forgive. Like actions can get you on his shit list, actions can get you out. But once a person is on the shit list, they deserve any harm that comes their way.

But Ron is really loyal, and there are people he loves who are basically immune from going on the shit list (like his family, yes, even Percy. While he wants to hit him, I don't believe Ron ever really wished death on Percy). And there is just something interesting about Ron, with his mean streak and everything, being the glue that holds the trio together. Like, in Deathly Hallows once he leaves, Harry and Hermione barely talk to each other, they are barely friends without Ron there.

I don't know, I just love Ron. I love how he is loyal, and friendship glue, but has just as much of a mean streak to him as Harry and Hermione can pull. I just feel like he's sometimes left out of the discussion of how ruthless Harry and Hermione could be. Like, it's true, both of them can be ruthless, but don't leave Ron out. He can be ruthless and actually offers violence as a solution more often than Harry or Hermione do.

[90slavenderh4ze]

dancing in the dark - sirius black

pairing: post azkaban!sirius black x reader.

summary: he doesn’t dance anymore, but with her in his arms, he thinks maybe he’s been missing out.

warnings: one mention of reader having been in slytherin none otherwise, just fluff.

a.n: god i love writing post-azkaban sirius. set around ootp, no mentions of yn. hope you like it! let me know if you have any requests/ideas/suggestions. asks are open, as are dms if you wanna talk.

Grimmauld Place was suffocating at night.

The walls held too many memories, too many ghosts, and Sirius Black was haunted by all of them. The house still smelled of old magic and dust, but beneath that, he swore he could smell the lingering scent of his childhood—fear, resentment, the sharp tang of being unwanted. Even after months of the Order living here, scrubbing the walls, lighting fires to chase away the chill, Grimmauld Place was still a tomb.

He should’ve been asleep. Everyone else was. But Sirius hadn’t slept properly in years, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Instead, he wandered.

Barefoot, shirt half-unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he moved through the house like a shadow, silent and aimless. His fingers traced along the peeling wallpaper, the wooden railings, the places where his mother had once shrieked his name like a curse.

He hated this house. But he hated being alone more.

And then he heard it.

Music.

Soft, scratchy, coming from the drawing room.

Sirius frowned. It was late. No one else ever stayed up this late—not even Moody. But as he neared the doorway, the dim glow of candlelight flickered against the hall, and he knew exactly who it was.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching.

There she was.

Standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, a candle on the mantle casting golden light across her face. She was swaying slightly, lost in the music, her fingers absentmindedly tapping the rhythm against her hip.

The record player was spinning an old jazz record—probably something stolen from his collection. He might have been annoyed if he weren’t so damn entranced.

“You know,” he drawled, “this is hardly the place for a party.”

She startled slightly, turning to face him. “And yet, here you are.”

He smirked, stepping inside. “Here I am.”

There was something about her—something he had never been able to define. She had been two years below him at Hogwarts, a Slytherin like his brother, someone he had once dismissed without a second thought. But she was nothing like the people he had grown up with.

She had left that world behind, just like he had.

Except she had done it with far more grace.

“You don’t sleep either?” he asked, tilting his head.

She hummed, turning back to the record player. “Not well.”

A moment of silence. He leaned against the wall, watching her, waiting.

And then, without warning, she turned back to him with a smile—soft, teasing, daring.

“Dance with me.”

Sirius blinked.

“Come again?”

She gestured toward the empty space beside her, raising a brow. “You heard me, Black. Dance with me.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you? I don’t dance.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You were a Marauder. You’re telling me you never danced on a table in the Gryffindor common room after a Quidditch victory?”

“Completely different,” he said smoothly. “That was performance art.”

She laughed, stepping closer. The candlelight flickered behind her, casting shadows along her features. She smelled like something warm, something Sirius couldn’t name but wanted to drown in.

His pulse picked up.

“I won’t tell anyone if you’re bad at it,” she teased. “Your reputation is safe.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her, lips twitching. “And if I say no?”

She shrugged. “Then I dance alone.”

She turned back to the record player, humming softly, and for a moment, Sirius convinced himself that was the end of it.

But then she started to sway again, her body moving effortlessly with the music, and Merlin help him, he was already walking toward her before he could think better of it.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if I step on your feet, you forfeit the right to mock me.”

She grinned. “Not a chance.”

And just like that, she took his hand.

Sirius inhaled sharply.

Her fingers were smaller than his, but warm, steady. She guided his other hand to her waist—not hesitantly, not nervously, just boldly—and then they were moving.

He had danced before, of course. Pureblood galas, lessons forced upon him as a child. He knew how to do it. He just… hadn’t in a long time.

Certainly not like this.

Not slow. Not intimate.

She was light on her feet, fluid, confident in a way that made it easy for him to follow. And Sirius—who had spent so many years feeling like he was barely holding himself together—felt strangely grounded.

For a moment, the war didn’t exist. The house wasn’t a prison. He wasn’t a man who had lost twelve years of his life.

He was just here.

With her.

“You’re not bad at this,” she mused, looking up at him.

He smirked. “Surprised?”

“A little.”

He let out a huff of mock offense, but he was too focused on the way she was looking at him to put any real effort into it.

The song played on, and they kept moving, turning slowly in the dim light.

Her hand in his. His in hers.

His heart was pounding. He wondered if she could hear it.

“You really should sleep,” he murmured.

“So should you.”

Silence.

The record crackled softly, the song winding to an end.

Sirius could have let go. Should have. But he didn’t.

Not yet.

She wasn’t moving away either.

She was close enough that he could see the way her lashes curled, the faint smattering of freckles on her nose, the way her lips parted just slightly, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Sirius swallowed hard.

Say something. Say something before you do something reckless.

“I’m going to regret this,” he muttered under his breath.

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

Because instead of answering, he leaned down—slowly, carefully, so she had every chance to move away—and pressed his lips against her forehead.

She inhaled sharply.

Sirius lingered there, eyes closed, exhaling softly against her skin.

He wanted—Merlin, he wanted.

But he wouldn’t take. Not yet.

Not tonight.

When he finally pulled back, she was looking at him—really looking at him, like she knew exactly what was running through his head.

But she didn’t push. Didn’t demand anything from him.

She just laced her fingers with his again, gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and smiled.

“Dance with me again tomorrow?” she asked.

Sirius exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Her grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He let go of her hand, but the warmth lingered long after.

And for the first time in a long time, Sirius didn’t feel like a man standing in the ruins of his past.

He felt like maybe—just maybe—there was still something left for him in the future.

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: OotP Ch. List

Summary: The guys and Y/n are starting to feel the pull of a new bond trying to start but its starting while being miles away. Will that make or break this new bond?

Warnings: bit of angst, talk of heat symptoms, new bond irritations

Ch. 4 Distance Doesn't Dull Instinct

The drive home is quiet, too quiet. You left the little rented house before dawn, suitcase in the trunk, Luna in her carrier curled up and silent. The roads out of Dallas were mostly empty, the sky just starting to lighten with that soft pink haze that always feels like the start of something.

Only this time, it feels like the end.

You turn the music off halfway through the drive because every song reminds you of them. The warmth. The stares. The tension. That brief moment in the dark when Chan held you and everything stilled inside you for the first time in years.

Now, back in your own apartment, nothing fits. The air feels flat. Your clothes itch against your skin. You try working—just two simple medical billing reports—but the words blur on the screen.

Your body knows. Your omega knows and even from states away… you miss them. 

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Meanwhile the boys on their way to Atlanta via plane, Chan sits with his hoodie pulled low over his face, earbuds in, arms crossed tight. He hasn’t spoken in forty minutes.

Felix is curled in the window seat next to him, his scent unusually flat for someone who usually smells like sunlight and fresh laundry. Even Jeongin is subdued, nibbling a protein bar like it’s cardboard.

Han turns to Hyunjin. “Do you feel itchy?”

Hyunjin nods slowly. “Like there’s something I need to do, but I can’t remember what it is.”

“It’s her, we’re too far.” Changbin mutters while sliding his hello kitty sleep mask over his eyes.

Minho’s head is tipped back against the seat rest, but he’s wide awake. His scent—vanilla and tobacco—is heavier than usual. He hasn’t said a word since boarding.

Seungmin finally breaks the silence. “Do you think management would even allow it?”

That gets their attention. Chan pulls one earbud out. “What?”

Seungmin shrugs. “If we said it out loud. Told them we found… her. They know it could happen at any time.”

Jeongin’s voice is soft. “Would they stop us?”

“I don’t think they can,” Felix says. “Not if it’s real. The bond doesn’t care about contracts.”

“But it does care about distance,” Han mutters, rubbing at his jaw. “I feel like I’ve been unplugged from something.”

Chan looks down at his phone, the last message from you still open.

I want more of you💜

That’s all he needs. “We’re talking to them,” he says quietly. “Not now. But soon. Once we’re sure.”

Minho finally lifts his head, his face looking like an annoyed cat. “We’re already sure.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Your POV

By the second day, your scent is thicker in the air than usual. You have to reapply your low-dose scent blockers twice, and even then, they’re not quite working. The itch under the skin similar to pre heat is annoying.

You feel half crazy thinking you catch whiffs of their individual scents until you look over and Luna has been making biscuits on the shirt you wore to meet them. Smiling to yourself you pet her and think about their scents feeling the ache in your chest lessen just a little.

Each one of them lingers in your memory in flashes:

Chan: bonfire and bergamot, a protective heat you still feel in your chest

Minho: that smoky vanilla edge, low and steady and grounding

Han: bright chai spice, like he’s always laughing somewhere close

Hyunjin: Peony and Earl Grey, elegant and lingering

Changbin: Clean rose soap, strong and comforting, reminding you of the roses from your late moms garden attempts.

Felix: sunlight warmth and crisp laundry, pure ease

Seungmin: sugar and violets, subtle but firm

Jeongin: sweet gingerbread, curious and cozy

You hum one of their songs as you get ready for bed, putting on the shirt once Luna has abandoned it for your pillow. As you half your pillow with her you realize the ache is just going to get worse. 

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Atlanta – Tour Prep Day

The venue is buzzing with crew, but the pack isn’t feeling it. Not really. They’re snapping at each other more. Chan calls a water break and notices Felix pacing behind the speakers.

“Can’t sit still,” Felix mutters. “Feels wrong.”

“I keep checking my phone,” Jeongin adds. “Like she might message again.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Hyunjin says, but his scent spikes with tension anyway.

Minho adjusts the mic stand too harshly. “She should.”

Chan exhales. He gets it. It’s not just hormones. It’s not just instinct. It’s something quieter and heavier—this ache that reaches into their ribs and digs in.

And worse—there’s no plan. Until now.

That night after prep and blocking were over. They get back to the hotel, door locked and phones off. Chan waits until they’ve all sat down. 

“Now?” Seungmin frowns. “If we wait too long, her heat could hit without us. Or worse, she might think we left her for good.”

“She already misses us,” Jeongin says quietly.

“She doesn’t even have a claim mark yet,” Changbin mutters. “Her scent’s still free.”

“But it’s already ours,” Felix replies, eyes fierce.

“Are we really ready for this?” Han asks. “The logistics, the press, the—”

“We’re not talking about a scandal,” Minho says, eyes sharp. “We’re talking about our Y/n.”

The silence that follows is absolute. Then Chan speaks. “We don’t tell them everything. Not yet. But we tell them this—if we find an omega we’re compatible with, we have the right to form that bond. Period.”

“And if they say no?” Hyunjin asks.

“We don’t ask again,” Chan replies. “We tell.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Your POV 

It's the third night away from them, you get home from grabbing groceries and find a small package on your doorstep. No label. No return address. You open it inside, cautiously.

It’s a hoodie. Hyunjin’s hoodie.

You know it instantly—not because of the name embroidered on the inside, but because of the scent. The peony scent is soft and light mixing with the earl grey notes. Him. It hits you so hard you almost cry.

There’s a note tucked into the pocket.

I can’t put into words how much we miss you. Hope this piece of me helps - Your Jinnie

You bury yourself in the hoodie for bed that night and for the first time in three days, you sleep soundly.

**Thank you for reading!!**

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! Could I request a Fred Weasley x Sirius Black's daughter? Like low key goth, full of attitude, and overly confident reader, maybe they're in a meeting for the order and she's giving full attitude or something?? I just need more confident/bitchy reader bro T-T I'm tired of all the 'not like other girls' and shy readers like brother I speak my mind. anywho I love you and you're writing your amazing <3

Hello dear Anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked this just a little because I’ve been reading OOTP and it’s a crime that this scene wasn’t included because Fred vs Sirius?! I’d initially planned something much different but ended up 4k words deep here 😂 I love writing a fiery reader and would love to do more of this OC. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of injury, Arthur’s attack, general unrest, drinking, brief mention of potential alcohol addiction, sadness and anger. Fred has big emotions. Mentions of Umbitch. Brief nod to the reader potentially being a seer? Secret relationship that gets revealed.

Word count: 4k words (I got sucked in)

The eye of the snake.

"But professor," you protested weakly, actually considering the implications of your actions for once.

"I hardly think now is the time for propriety Miss Black," Professor McGonagall says as she ushers you through the common room and up the stairs towards the boys dormitories, whilst she heads towards the girls to retrieve Ginny. An odd night all around, you thought.

With shaking hands you held your illuminated wand out in front of you as a beacon, though you hardly needed a guide having made this walk so many times before, though never this quickly and without watching out for every creaking floorboard. You reached out for the door handle and slid it open, trying to stay quiet as to not disturb Lee. George was snoring as usual, surprisingly in rhythm with Lee's slight nose whistle which briefly made you ponder how the hell Fred was able to sleep through this crescendo of noise.

You creep towards Fred's bed first, knowing that time was of the essence and gave him a quick shake on his shoulder whilst whispering his name. You felt almost guilty for waking him, seeing him so peaceful in his sleep, knowing that Dumbledore's immediately summoning of yourself and the Weasley children was an ominous and foreboding sign. He looked so handsome, so relaxed and for the briefest of moments you forgot your assignment, wanting nothing more than to just climb in and cuddle up to him, feeling his warmth and softness.

You'd felt it all night, sleep evading you and your eventual dreams disturbed, the sense of something bad occurring pulling at the edge of your mind like a summoning charm. You'd felt the unease, the disquiet all night but couldn't sense anything beyond that, with no details making theirselves known, no visions of what lay ahead beyond the general sense of impending doom.

"Freddie!" You say a little louder, giving him a harder shake, watching as he stirs and eventually opens his eyes, immediately squinting at the light your wand is emitting. "Get up, it's important." You hoped that your blunt tone was enough to drag him out of his slumber and shuffled off towards George's bed where to attempted to wake him too.

"George," you say, giving him a harsh nudge on his shoulder, knowing that he'd be sleeping much deeper than Fred ever did. "George wake up!"

He groans, throwing his arm over his face but you don't pay him any mind, reaching for his dressing gown on the chair beside him and throwing it directly at his face.

"What's happening?" Fred groans, voice deep and thick with sleep.

"Dumbledore's called for us, McGonagall's getting Ginny, somethings happened."

He was out of bed in a flash, recognising your tone of voice enough to know that you were far from joking. George took a bit more corralling but he was quickly roused as you walked out of their dorm, followed closely by both twins who were every inch as disheveled physically as you felt internally. You met Ginny and Professor McGonagall at the top of the stairs and walked quickly and silently behind her, allowing Ginny to walk ahead with her brothers.

"There's been an... incident," McGonagall says, her words carefully considered to give little away of the situation, another ominous sign. "Your father has been injured, though we don't know how serious it is at this time. Professor Dumbledore is doing all he can with Potter's guidance."

"Harry? What's he got to do with this?" Ginny asks quickly, naturally hanging on every word that the professor said. She looked frightened and you could hardly blame her, considering the news. The twins remained uncharacteristically quiet as you walked quickly through the corridors until you were outside the headmasters office.

"Fizzing whizbee."

McGonagall turns to Ginny, casting a glance to the rest of you out of curtesy as the spiralling staircase presents itself at the correct password.

"It appears Mr Potter saw the attack take place."

"We've located your father and he's been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for maladies and Injuries. I'll be sending you all to Sirius' house, it's much more convenient than the Burrow. You'll be meeting your mother there," Dumbledore explains. At the mention of your father, your eyes shoot up to Dumbledore and it suddenly becomes clear why you have been sent for in addition to the Weasley family. Your dad, the safe house, the order of the Phoenix. Arthur must have been injured during Order business.

"How are we going?" Fred asks, his voice sounding as sullen as his face. He sounds unnerved, shaken, and you fight the natural instinct to reach for his hand. "Floo powder?"

"No." Dumbledore says with a slightly shake of his head, "the Floo Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey,"

He indicates to an old kettle lying innocently on his desk, the inanimate object having missed your notice upon entering. "We are waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you on your way."

His gaze slips to you upon mention of your great-great-great grandfather but you avert your eyes, hardly knowing your place in that moment. Usually you had no trouble expressing your opinion, regardless of the situation, but right now you felt the best thing was to stay quiet and offer a supportive presence.

You thought of your own father, the both of you having spent so long forced apart and of his current predicament, essentially forced under house arrest by the Order. It was safer that way, but your heart still ached for how lonely he would be. You felt conflicted and impossibly guilty at the slight excitement you felt at seeing your dad again in respect of what your boyfriend and the others would be feeling at their own father's fate. Mr Weasley had been a surrogate dad to you whilst your own father was locked away and had been a constant presence in your life, making you feel even guiltier for the hopeful feeling you had about your own dad.

Your eyes suddenly whip around to the flash of a flame from the centre of the office, watching as a golden feather emerges from the combustion, your eyes trailing it downwards as it floats right to the floor.

'"Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore half-explains, eyes flickering between the golden feather and then towards McGonagall.

"Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds. Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story."

Professor McGonagall was gone within seconds, her messy braid whipping behind her as she exits the office in a flash.

"He says he'll be delighted," an all too familiar voice suddenly says in a grumbling, bored voice. Your eyes trail up to the portrait of your ancestor, the Slytherin banner proudly waving behind him, his face as sour as you remember.

"My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests," he adds with a particular distaste before his eyes meet yours for only a moment, recognising instantly who you are. "As does his daughter."

"What a lovely reunion," you snark, fighting back a roll of your eyes as the familiar anger simmers deep in your gut at his choice of words, not even bothering to conceal the archaic values of your ancestors that belong in the past with them.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" asks Dumbledore, waiting for confirmation from you all as you huddle around the old black teapot, each of you nervous for different reasons of what will be waiting for you on the other side.

"Good. On the count of three then... one... two..."

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?" You barely had time to register the creaky voice, never mind distinguish his words as you recovered from the nausea of travelling by portkey. Your stomach still felt tingly, the pulling sensation behind your navel and the wind ringing past your ears as you trapsed through space and time was never a comfortable feeling, having ended up in your dad's gloomy kitchen only moments later.

"Mistress Black returns with her blood traitor friends." You're about to curse into the horrible little elf when you hear a second voice shout loudly from the sidelines, rendering you speechless.

'OUT!'

Fred from beside you helps you up, knowing even in his time of need that Portkey travel did not agree with you and gives you a little nudge towards where your dad leans on the doorframe awaiting your arrival.

"Dad!" You scrambled, running off to hug your father who welcomed you with open arms, chuckling heartily as you barged into him with a slam. You felt awful doing this in front of the Weasley children but you'd allow this for yourself now and apologise later. You looked over your dads shoulder through the wild brown ringlets of his hair and saw that a single place had been set at the table, with a single lit candle and the remains of a solitary supper that made your heart clench. He smelt like stale drink, your stomach roiling nervously at the thought. Was that how he was occupying himself?

You suddenly pulled away, knowing that it wasn't the right time for a long, drawn out reunion and stepped back in line, in between Fred and George.

"What's going on?" He asks, turning to look upon the Weasley siblings. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"

"Ask Harry," says Fred, particularly bluntly, no doubt frustrated that he wasn't getting a solid answer. You watch as your dad turns to Harry, pulling him into a warm embrace, trying to get him to open up.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," adds George.

"It was, I had a - a kind of - vision," he stutters, beginning to explain the vision in great detail. Throughout the retelling, you have to stop yourself for reaching out for Fred's hand multiple times, knowing that you can't in front of everyone.

"Is Mum here?" Fred asks, turning to your dad once Harry had explained everything. You watch as George's face fills with dread, apparently having not realised up to now that she wasn't present amongst you.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," explains your dad. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledores letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St Mungo's," says Ginny with a sense of urgency. You watch as she pauses, looking around all of you who are still dressed in your nightwear having been ripped from your beds not an hour before. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything? Y/n?"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!" Your dad says suddenly, eyes ablaze as if he's personally affronted by the suggestion. Your mouth opens immediately to protest but Fred manages to find the words first, his face stern.

"Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want, he's our dad!'" You can see how physically tense he's gotten, not taking very well to being told no by someone he didn't see as an authoritative figure, even if it was his girlfriend's dad.

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

"What does that matter?" Adds George hotly, clearly thinking along the same lines as Fred, outraged at your dad's block.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" Your dad replies angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

You reach out suddenly for Fred's hand, trying to ground him. The physical contact seems to pull him back to earth, preventing him from saying something he'd inevitably regret... or maybe not knowing Fred.

Ginny instead tries to offer alternatives in a much more grounded way, "Somebody else could have told us... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" Your dad says impatiently with a sigh. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!'" Fred shouts, breaking away from your grip, as if it was holding him back. You're suddenly acutely aware that you are stuck in this awkward position, trapped between your dad and your secret boyfriend, hardly able to say anything to diffuse the situation. Your mouth physically hurts as you bite the inside of your cheek, finding it near impossible to keep out of it.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George yells, mere seconds later.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" Your dad replies with as much force as he was receiving, "This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'

You're a second away from physically pulling Fred away, knowing that whatever the next words would be that came out of his mouth, they'd be harsh and venom-filled.

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellows Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

You watch in horror as your dad pales, the look in his eyes darkening and you know in that moment that he'd quite like to hit Fred, something you would not be allowing. You'd been quiet too long, allowed them both to get out their frustrations but you'd had enough of that. You wouldn't choose sides, wouldn't force either of them to comply or get along but for your sake you hoped they could at least be cordial. You'd take the brunt of their frustrations if you had to, just to diffuse the situation.

"Right that's enough," you say, finding the words escaping you before you could really think about what you're saying. "Dad get the kettle on," you say with a nod of your head, a small and very false smile playing on your lips. You turn to the twins, names Fred who looks positively mutinous, trying a much softer approach on them. You know if you reach for Fred right now he'll reject you and you couldn't deal with that so you fold your arms over your chest, looking up towards the towering twins.

"We need to wait for your mum, we'll all set up in the lounge to wait or Gin you can have my bedroom if you want," you offer, casting a glance at the youngest Weasley who looks sullen, shaking her head slightly, as you expected. "Just wait to hear from your mum and then we'll work out our next move okay?"

Fred doesn't relent as easy as George who nods after a few moments in understanding. Instead, Fred is still shooting daggers at your dad over your shoulder and you sigh, knowing he's stubborn as a mule. A few tense moments pass and you watch as his eyes suddenly flicker to yours and soften considerably before he nods in agreement.

"No milk," your dad says suddenly from behind, a look on his face somewhere between disgust and shame.

"Right, butterbeer it is then," you say, trying to redeem the situation, "it's in my bedroom." You shoot a look to your dad, knowing you can't do magic here and you were hardly ready to leave Fred and your dad alone again.

"Accio Butterbeer!" Your dad says, taking the lead. Immediately the bottles of butterbeer float across the room and your dad placed them into the table as you reach and distribute the drinks.

You all take your seats in the lounge surrounding the fire that had dwindled slightly since your arrival but with a single flick of his wand, your dad refreshes it.

Ginny takes the old armchair closest to the fire and curls herself up within it.

Harry and Ron take the two seater, the most uncomfortable seat you'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing and you watch with a barely concealed grin as Ron's face immediately conveys his regret as he takes a seat upon the torture device. You reach for a cushion and throw it towards him; hitting him square in the face but for once he doesn't care but instead smiles thankfully for the cushion, not that it would do much. George throws himself down into the sofa closest to Ginny's chair and Fred follows not far behind. You stay standing, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at intruding and begin to back away from the room until the fire suddenly crackles dangerously. There's a burst of light and you frown, hearing the round of gasps as a scroll of parchment flies out, accompanied by a familiar feather.

"Fawkes!" Your dad says, quickly marching into the room at the sudden disturbance, snatching up the parchment and pulling it close to his face. "That's not Dumbledore's writing - it must be a message from your mother - here."

He thrusts the letter into George's hand, who had jumped up anxiously at the sudden intrusion. George then ripped it open and read aloud for everyone to hear.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

There's a dead silence that follows Molly's communication, each of you thinking the same thing.

"Still alive..." George says slowly. "But that makes it sound..."

Fred pulls the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looks up at Harry for a moment, before he looks back to the parchment.

"You should all go to bed and deal with it properly in the morning," your dad suggests and before you can deal with the inevitable onslaught from the Weasley kids, you pull your dad away back into the kitchen, feeling the hot stare of Fred burning a hole in your back.

"They're worried about their dad," you say, keeping your voice down so that they wouldn't hear you. "We'll just hole up in the lounge for the night."

"Y/n," your dad sighs but for some reason his attempt to disagree with you seems to anger you instantly.

"What would you do? Just go to bed and pretend nothings wrong?"

"Well I didn't care very much for my father," your dad begins to snark, forcing you to roll your eyes.

"Right, so maybe just pretend you can imagine what they're going through and just accept that they're hurting and need each other right now."

Your dad's eyes widen a little at your outburst but you don't back down, "you don't have to host us, go to bed if that's what you're concerned about, or back to your drink."

"Y/n Black!" Your father shouts but you don't flinch, knowing that you'd simply touched a nerve.

"I care about every single one of them in there, is it not just enough that I want them not to hurt? I care about Arthur too! Can you simply not understand that some people might actually be horrified at the thought of their father dying?"

His eye twitches at your words and you can tell he's considering the possible hidden meanings behind your words.

"Perhaps you care a little more for one of them," he snarks, unable to hold himself back. You see red immediately, only to be fuelled by your dad's following words. "Seems that you've absorbed his anger."

"He's not angry he's terrified!" You can't help it, the volume of your voice raising to match his. "Anyone would be in their situation! I'm sorry we're such a burden to you but the second we hear from Molly we'll be at St Mungo's out of your way."

"I didn't mean."

"No you never do," you say, averting your eyes and turning your body to walk back to the lounge.

"Y/n," your dad says, his tone suddenly back to normal if not sounding a little bit regretful. You sigh, tired and on edge, wanting nothing more than to just sit with your boyfriend and friends.

"You're a good friend to them," he says, trying to find words for the situation. Your nod slowly, the anger fading now as exhaustion washes over you.

"They're all I've had for a long time," you say, trying to avoid the sensitive topic of his imprisonment. "You're right about caring for them, and Fred above most. You're just seeing him on a bad night," you pause. "You know him and George stole the Marauders map from Filch's office in our first year?”

You watch as your dad's eyes light up in surprise, apparently never having been told this particular story.

"If you gave him a chance, on any normal day, I'm certain you'd love him."

"Do you?" Your dad asks gently, big brown eyes imploring your own. You frown, casting a look to the closed door that stood between you and the lounge, as if you'd see Fred through it.

You nod, getting more assured with every gentle movement of your head.

"I should get back," you say quietly, immediately feeling regret at the raised voices, not having expected your reunion to go like this.

When you step into the lounge, it's obvious that they had heard everything, though they all attempt to divert their eyes and look away to avoid making it too obvious but fail miserably. Fred's hand beckons you over and he pulls you into his lap, your head immediately resting on his shoulder, ignoring the shocked looks from Ron at the outward affection.

"Don't say anything," you whisper, looking at the flames of the fire instead of his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred says gently, making you look towards his face, seeing his tired eyes and the tiny hint of a smile upon his face.

"You're comfy," you say, pressing your head into the curve of his shoulder and you can feel the movement of his little chuckle. Arthur stays at the forefront of your mind and you're certain that there's not a moment he's forgotten amongst his children as you look at them throughout the night.

At some point Fred falls asleep, his breathing evening out as his head lolls onto your shoulder with the new position. His hand is entwined with yours, acting like an anchor so he wouldn't float away with his spiralling thoughts, your legs resting over his much longer ones. George is asleep the other side of Fred, emitting quiet snores and jerking every now and then. Ginny doesn't sleep, you can see the reflection of the flames in her eyes as she stares blankly into nothing and you're unable to tell if Ron is asleep due to his head being in his hands, slumped over. You settle down, snuggling into Fred as the tiredness overtakes you and you hope that when you wake there will be better news.

You don't see or hear your dad step into the room an hour later, pausing as he looks upon his daughter cuddling up to who he assumes is her boyfriend. Instead of being angry or protective as he expected to feel, he feels a sense of calm as seeing her look peaceful in her sleep. He may not have had the best interaction with the Weasley boy but he knows Arthur and Molly, they seemed incapable of raising a bad one

[seriouslysam8]

One-Shot Alert!

Piece by Piece

After Sirius’ death, Ginny’s only goal was to get Harry out of bed and get him to eat something.

I really can't help myself lately. Here's the newest missing moments one-shot! Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to drop a review or leave some one-shot ideas!

Missing Moments

[thesaltyravenclaw]

Late Night Rendezvous

Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: You and Remus are finally together again, and nothing can keep you apart now...

(Takes place during OotP)

Warnings: SMUT! p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, mild teasing, ex professor-student relationship (reader is around 20)

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~your pov~

You threw your arms around his neck, having to reach up on your tip toes a little. He hesitated a second, taken aback, before bringing his hand to the small of your back to rest. His body instantly relaxed into your touch, and he brought his other arm around to fully embrace you. You felt so secure in his arms.

"I missed you so much," you said, a little muffled as you talked into his sweater.

"I missed you too, y/n."

You stayed there in the comfort of his warmth a while before lifting your head to look up at him.

"Remus..." It almost sounded like a plea coming from your lips.

"What is it, dear?"

He brought his hand up to touch the side of your face softly. His thumb brushed over your cheeks as his hand cradled your face ever so gently, as if you would break. You looked deeply into his eyes like the answers to the universe were swirling within them.

"I've been thinking about you so much," you started. "And I--" you cut yourself off, unable to find words suitable enough.

You chose action instead. You reached up on your tip toes once more and kissed him while you still had the courage. He didn't resist at all. On the contrary. Warm, soft lips danced against yours. You felt the tickle of his scruff on your face.

"I want you."

The words were so simple, spoken so softly. Yet they hung in the air so heavily.

"Darling... we can't."

"But why?"

You sounded like a child who wasn't getting what she wanted. And that wasn't helping your case. But you couldn't help it.

"You know why. What we're doing is risky."

"I'm not your student anymore, Rem. And it doesn't matter how we met. We're both adults here."

"I'm too old for you."

"Age is just a number."

"And what about my lifestyle? You don't understand what it's like for me as a werewolf."

"I'm here for all of it, Rem."

You reached for his hand, guiding it with your own to rest upon your breast. Your tiny hand lay flat against his, acting as a controller as you applied pressure, forcing Remus's hand to squeeze. You noticed his breathing hitch a little.

"Please," you spoke ever so softly into the dim room. "I've thought about this so much. All those nights we were apart, I thought about you. Just the thought of you touching me drives me mad. I'm aching for you."

Remus continued to squeeze your breast with his hand, but at some point he started doing it of his own accord. Your words helped with that. You closed your eyes and melted into the feeling, letting a breathy sigh fall from your lips.

~his pov~

The sound of that--that pretty, devastating sound you just made--drove him mad.

He wasn't going to be able to keep his composure any longer. Not like this with his hand massaging her soft, supple breast. He could feel her hardened nipple brushing against his palm through her shirt. Of course she wasn't wearing a bra, naughty girl. What was he to do? Any man would know exactly what to do in this situation: give in, give her what she wants. Any good man would know that it wouldn't be right, that he should stop this right now and bid her goodnight. But in this moment, Remus wasn't sure if he would call himself a good man. He wanted to rip her clothes off. Pick her up and carry her to that sofa over there. Bury his face in her luscious breasts, work his way between her thighs. He wanted to devour her. And the devil on his shoulder encouraging him was louder than ever.

"Rem, please," she begged angelically.

She took his other hand in hers, guiding this one under the hem of her shirt. She did it slowly, as if waiting to see if he would allow it to happen. And he didn't do a thing to stop it. She continued her effort, dragging his hand deliberately up her abdomen. Her skin was soft like silk. Finally, he felt his fingers brush over the underside of her breast. So unbelievably soft and full. Her hand moved his up, up, up until he felt the peak. Her nipple was impossibly hard. Remus became very aware of how hard he was getting, his pants getting tight as his erection grew. This gorgeous woman before him, begging for him. So turned on by his touch. As he brushed his thumb over her nipple ,she gasped. That was it.

~your pov~

Remus crashed his lips onto yours. It was hungry, different from the first kiss. It wasn't gentle or tender; he was a man starved. And you were more than happy with that. It was like a dream. This was everything you had fantasized about for months. Finally getting to kiss him like this, have him touch you.

You felt his hands leave their home on your breasts. But before you could even groan in protest, you felt them come around the back of your thighs and effortlessly lift you into the air. You instantly adjusted into the position, wrapping your legs around his waist. Remus carried you over to the sofa, never breaking the desperate contact with your lips. He set you down gently onto the cushion. Your legs immediately spread apart like your body was on autopilot. You needed him between them so bad. Any part of him.

He pulled out his wand and cast a locking spell on the door. You felt your heart pick up speed. This was really happening. Finally. You watched him lower yourself between your legs, kneeling before you. He looked so perfect like this. Slowly, deliberately, his hands came around to the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down. He took them completely off you and tossed them aside. His hands came back up to settle on your bare thighs. He caressed them, traveling upwards as he explored the newly exposed skin. He then lowered his head to start placing kissing along the insides of your thighs, starting at your knee and working his way up to your core. You could feel how wet you were. You knew it soaked through your panties. Just as he reached the top, he pulled away and started back at the bottom of your other thigh. You moaned.

"Shhh. You have to be quiet."

You nodded, obeying. You would do whatever he said if it meant he would give you what you needed sooner. Your pussy was throbbing. As he worked his way to the top again, he paused at your pussy. He just looked at it in awe.

"You're so wet, love."

You whined. "Please, Rem. Please touch me."

"I am touching you, dear," he said with a grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

You gave him a look. He knew damn well what you meant, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Please."

Suddenly, he dragged his tongue up the wet spot on your panties. You had to cover your mouth to stop the moan.

"Hhmmm."

He hummed into your pussy. Wasting no more time, he quickly removed your panties, leaving them discarded with your pants. He took a moment to take in the sight of your glistening pussy in the dim light.

"So beautiful," he whispered.

And then he slowly swept his tongue through your folds. Relief and pleasure washed over your entire body as you felt his tongue continuously lick across your pussy and over your clit. It was heaven.

"You taste so good," Remus praised as he remained absorbed in the bliss of your pussy.

He kissed your clit, wrapped his lips around it and suckled gently, and you felt like you were gonna float away. Another sound escaped you before you could stop it.

"Shhhh."

You felt more than you heard the way he hushed you. You had to physically throw your hands over your mouth to shut up. His tongue was working miracles, swirling over your clit and dipping down to your entrance in a perfect symphony. You felt like you could control yourself enough to lower your hands from your mouth and run then through Remus's hair.

"Oh Remus," you called out softly. "It feels so good."

He responded to your praise by licking you with even more fervor, determined to get you to your orgasm.

"Remus." It was difficult to even talk. "Can you--can I have--"

"What is it, darling?"

You gasped at feeling his words reverberate into your pussy.

"Fingers," you choked out. "I need your fingers. Can you finger me. Please."

Wordlessly, he brought his hand down from its resting place on your hip and hovered a finger tantalizingly over your entrance. He just barely grazed it, coaxing a gasp out of you. His hands were calloused, rough--perfect. He pushed his middle finger in slowly and your breathing failed you for a moment. His long finger made you feel so complete. Just one of his fingers made you feel this way. You needed more. He pumped his finger in and out of your dripping pussy as his tongue turned all it's attention to your clit.

"Oh, Remus," you whispered.

He locked eyes with you as he fucked you with his finger, face buried in your pussy. The sight made you even wetter. Eyes half closed, slumped against the couch, you were in a state of utter bliss and you never wanted it to end. But you were getting close to your release now. And then you felt another finger slide into you next to the first, stretching you out a little more. He was curling his fingers in an upward motion as he fucked you, finding that perfect spot inside you easily, finding the perfect rhythm.

"I'm close."

He didn't stop, just looked up at you and continued his pace. You felt it. You remained locked into a stare with him and let yourself fall apart. It swept over you like a huge wave crashing on the shore. You felt yourself lose control as your orgasm took over your body. Your pussy squeezed his fingers and pulsated around them. You convulsed as the waves of pleasure overtook. And seeing him look at you so intensely, such love and lust in his eyes, just made you cum even harder. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. Way more intense than anything you'd ever done to yourself. He continued pumping his fingers and licking your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm as long as possible. When your body finally stilled, he pulled his fingers out slowly. They were covered in your juices. He looked at them as if mesmerized before bringing them to his lips and licking them clean. It was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen and it caused a fresh wave of arousal to wash over you.

"You taste so good. So sweet," he whispered.

The next thing you knew, Remus's lips met yours again, and this time you could taste yourself on them.

"I want to feel you, Remus."

"I want to feel you too, love." He paused. "But I want to do this properly."

Remus stood up and pulled out his wand. For several seconds, you were puzzled until you realized that the sofa below you was extending into a bed. Your legs raised up with the forming matress as the bed willed itself into existence. You grinned and scooted back against the pillows, making yourself comfy. Before joining you on the bed, Remus began stripping off his clothes. He seemed almost hesitant at first, but your eager expression, full of love and adoration, seemed to soothe whatever worries ran through his mind. Down to the collared shirt he wore under his sweater, he undid the buttons one by one. As his skin was revealed, you noticed the scars that had lie hidden underneath his shirt. All wounds from the full moon nights. You realized he was self-conscious. Wordlessly, you sat up on your knees and met him at the edge of the bed. You gently traced his scars with your fingers, admiring them and studying them with wonder. His tense body softened under your touch. Slowly, you brought your face to one of the bigger scars on his torso and placed the most delicate kiss upon it. You looked up at him to be met with most loving gaze. You chose this moment to strip your shirt off, the last piece of clothing on your body, to reveal yourself to him completely. You were his, and you wanted him to know it.

You leaned back again and waited patiently as he removed his pants. It was a fantasy for you. Something you'd dreamed about countless times. You relished in the moment. Wanted to live in it forever. Remus undid the buttons of his trousers and pulled them off, never breaking contact with your lustful eyes. He was left in his boxers, which came off next, finally freeing his erect cock. It was gorgeous, already dripping with his precum. You licked your lips instinctively, immediately wanting to wrap your lips around it. But before you could act, he was climbing over you again, his lips finding yours. He kissed you with such passion. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before and beyond anything you could've ever imagined. You felt the tip of his dick brush over your slit as the two of you made out. It caused you to gasp into his mouth. Your pussy was throbbing again. Between his spit from before, the lingering juices from your orgasm, and the fresh arousal, your pussy was an ocean.

"Rem," you gasped between kisses, "please--put it in. I need you. I want to feel you."

"I know, darling. Be patient."

He continued to kiss you, savoiring your lips. You felt his dick graze over your pussy again, this time with purpose. You moaned a little.

"Shhhh." He put a finger to your lips.

And then you felt him at your entrance.

"You have to be quiet, my dear."

You just nodded. And then he slowly started to push in. Just the tip. The stretch was already unbelievable. You were going mad. You needed more. You squirmed a little.

"Slow down, love. I don't want it to hurt."

He pushed in a little more, just as slowly as before. You dug your nails into his back. The stretch did hurt a little, but the pleasure was too overpowering for it to matter. You looked deeply into his eyes, the gaze between you unbreakable. His blue eyes grounded you like an anchor. You felt safe, secure. Loved.

He continued to push in, inch by inch, until, finally, you felt him bottom out. The feeling nearly stole your breath away. You felt so full at last. You never wanted him to leave. Your missing piece. He closed his eyes in pleasure, a soft groan escaping his lips. Just the sound of that alone could make you cum. He stayed deep inside you, unmoving.

"Are you alright, darling?" he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

But he wouldn't find any. You were more than alright.

"Yes." A smile spread on your face.

He grinned back at you and brought his lips to yours again, kissing you with a passion that only a man of his caliber could possess. He began to move, dragging his dick out of you slowly before thrusting back in. And still, nothing could have prepared you for the amout of pleasure those two small actions brought you. He began a steady pace. Ecstacy overtook you as he made love to you. Not just fucking; it was soft, sweet, intimate. Unable to control them, small, quiet moans escaped you. But Remus didn't seem to mind anymore. No one would hear but him. Your pussy gripped his dick as he thrust into you. You were making a mess all over yourself and Remus with how wet you got for him. The sounds that your pussy were making as he he slid in and out of you were a testament to that.

"You feel so good, y/n," Remus whispered.

"You--feel good."

It was hard to speak. That familiar feeling began to settle within you, that increased sense of pleasure, of urgency, that told you you were close. The feeling of his thick cock slamming into your pussy over and over...

"I think--I think I'm close."

"I know, baby. I know."

You were so turned on by the way he talked to you. All the sweet names he called you. You were his baby. You were his. Remus moved his hand down between your united bodies, and quickly found your clit. He began rubbing circles over your clit, never faltering in his thrusts. The pleasure was overwhelming. You closed your eyes, and let the moment wash over you. You took in everything about it. Every feeling, every sound, his wonderful scent. And when you opened your eyes you were met the sight of him looking at you with an intensity in his eyes. That's when it overcame you. You could feel yourself falling off the edge.

"I'm gonna--"

Your words were cut off by your orgasm, which swept over your body at once. Your back arched off the bed, body convulsing around his dick as you lost yourself to the pleasure. You must have started screaming because Remus very quickly silenced you by sealing your lips with a kiss. He stayed strong with his pace, making sure you rode out your orgasm completely. Your body twitched as you came down from your high, head fuzzy. You felt him start to speed up a little, a new urgency of his own springing within him. And then, suddenly, he pulled out. You watched as he came all over your stomach. His head fell back in pleasure as spurts of his release shot out in thick ropes upon you. He had so much for you. When he came down, breathing heavily, he was met with the sight of the mess he made all over you.

"Let me clean you up," he said.

And he did, gently wiping your stomach off with a rag before collapsing next to you. You settled easily into a comfortable embrace, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close while you rested your head on his chest, still out of breath.

"That was amazing," you said.

"Yes, it was." He paused for a beat. "I love you, y/n."

"I love you too, Remus."

"I should have told you that sooner, but I was afraid of what that would mean for you. I don't want you to be subjected to my life. That's not something you should have to deal with. Not something you deserve."

"Remus... it's my decision, too. And I'll choose you always. Ever since you came into my life, I've been happier. I hate being apart from you. Whatever comes our way, we'll get through it. This, right here, is what's important to me."

Your arm, which was resting over his stomach, wrapped around to squeeze him tighter. You needed him as close as possible.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to find out for myself."

"As long as it's what you truly want, I'll respect your wishes."

"Deal."

He kissed your forehead. Snuggled into his chest, you closed your eyes in contentment, ready to let sleep take you in the comfort of Remus's arms.

Tomorrow, Grimmauld Place would be bustling again when you awoke. It would be back to business, back to your responsibilities. But for now, Remus was all yours, and the peace of the night settled over you like a second blanket, its soothing comfort luring you into your dreams.

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Thanks for reading!

[startanewdream]

can you write a fan fic on Sirius giving Harry advice on Ginny. I need Hinny fluff!

This was sent so many years months ago, hope you'll still read it, Anon!

godfatherly advice

Summary: Sirius and Remus discuss Harry's love life. Set during OotP. Around 1600 words.

“Do you remember a girl named Cho Chang?”

It is the sudden change in their talk — they had been exchanging stories of their favorite Christmas dinners at Hogwarts — that makes Remus blink, surprised. He turns to Sirius, but his friend is now looking at the far corner of the kitchen where Harry is playing Explosive Snap.

“What?”

“When you were teaching at Hogwarts,” Sirius answers, sounding impatient. “There was a girl called Cho Chang, right?”

“Right,” Remus agrees slowly. “Ah—she was in the Fourth Year. Ravenclaw. Bright girl. She wrote this essay about curses—”

Sirius waves him off. “Fourth Year,” he muses. “One year above Harry, then. Different houses. Not much in common.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Pretty girl?”

He jumps. “I didn’t notice it! I was her professor—”

“Oh, get a grip.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Think like a fifteen-year-old boy—never mind, you never mentioned your crushes back in school, I don’t think you were ever a teenager.”

Warmth floods Remus’ face, and he deviates his gaze. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Hum…” Sirius seems as embarrassed as he gets. “Rumour has it that Harry’s got a crush on this girl.”

“Rumour.” Remus glances at where Tonks and Hermione are talking with the Weasley twins. “I guess this rumour is friends with one of Harry’s best friends.”

“I am not discussing my sources with you. But if you can trust this particular rumour, and you can… Harry and this girl, Cho, got friendly before the end of the term.”

“Oh.” Remus watches Harry for a moment. With his overly large shirt and laughing freely as he plays Explosive Snap with Ginny Weasley, Harry doesn’t look his age. “I forgot he is old enough to have a girlfriend.”

There’s a grunt in answer. Sirius is frowning, displeased.

“What?”

“I don’t think she is his girlfriend. From what Ton—my source mentioned, it was just a snog or something like that. “

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Just a snog? That doesn’t sound like Harry.” Sure, Remus may have missed a few — a lot of — years staying away from Harry, but he got to know him during his time as a professor. And between Voldemort and the Triwizard Tournament, not to mention all the stress of this year, he doubts Harry has turned into some kind of Casanova since then. 

“No,” Sirius shakes his head. “But from what I got, Harry has had feelings for this girl for ages, but it is complicated—she was the girlfriend of the Diggory boy. The one who died in the Triwizard Tournament.”

Remus sighs. “Nothing is ever easy for Harry, is it?”

“Maybe,” Sirius mumbles, seemingly to himself. “But when Harry finally snogs the girl he’s been pinning for so long—you would think he might mention something to me.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Remus can’t help his smirk. “You know you owe him the talk, right?”

Sirius flushes slightly. “It’s not his silence that’s upsetting,” he says haughtily, clearly determined to ignore the second part of what Remus told him. “But rather—do you remember when James and Lily finally snogged?” That familiar jolt of pain hits Remus; his smile is wistful as he nods. “James kept smiling so much that it looked as if he had overdosed on an Euphoria Elixir.”

“And he couldn’t stop babbling about it—it was three in the morning, and he was still gushing.”

“Yeah.” Sirius looks older for a moment, his gaze far away before he nods towards Harry. “Does Harry look remotely like James did?”

“I don’t know. He seems quite happy now.” And as to prove his point, Harry’s laugh echoes in the kitchen for a moment. The cards have exploded, drawing everyone’s attention, though neither Harry and Ginny seem to mind. They are chuckling, and even though his own face is painted with soot, Harry jumps to smooth the small flames over the tips of Ginny’s hair. 

“Exactly!” Sirius beacons him to come closer, his eyes shining with mischief. “And not because of this Cho Chang girl, but rather…”

Sirius’ voice drifts away, conspiratorially. It takes Remus a few seconds — during which, impatient, Sirius glances meaningfully at the place where Harry and Ginny are — before he understands.

“Harry and Ginny? They are friends.”

“So were James and Lily.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you forgetting the part where James made a fool of himself whenever Lily Evans was around?”

Sirius shrugs. “Things never happen twice the same way. In fact, rumour has it that Ginny used to have a massive crush on Harry.”

“Hmmm.” Remus considers this for a moment, before deciding it is no big secret. “This one is true, when I was her teacher, I saw how she acted whenever Harry was around… but I thought it was because of that Chamber of Secrets incident.” He shakes his head. The things Harry faced at Hogwarts…

“Very romantic, I guess. The hero saves the girl… and usually gets the girl.”

“I think the hero was too young then to care about these things.”

“And now he is older, but he doesn’t seem to be caring for the right person.”

Remus blinks. “Aren’t you being too judgemental? You have just heard about this girl.”

“I am judgmental, but not of Cho Chang. I’m judging Harry.”

“Who is acting as a teenager for once?”

“I just mean… I thought they would make a good couple. Harry and Ginny. They share the same slightly twisted sense of humour and they seem good together.”

Remus sips from his goblet, allowing himself some time to consider it. Harry and Ginny have split up now; while Ginny is chatting excitedly with Tonks and Hermione, Harry has joined Ron, but now and then he glances at Ginny’s back — fondly, not exactly romantic, but maybe there is a spark there, a seed that could grow. There had been some storm over Harry’s head during that Christmas break, something related to the vision of Arthur being attacked; that storm is gone now, and though Remus has no idea of what exactly unfolded, somehow he thinks it was because of Ginny Weasley.

“They would match,” he agrees, and then, because this is Sirius he’s talking to, he adds carefully, “but you shouldn’t meddle with them.”

“I would never,” Sirius rebuffs at once, but there is a mischief spark in his eyes, so alive, that Remus knows this isn’t the end of it.

“Sirius—”

“Speaking about match-making, don’t you think my cousin looks splendid tonight?”

The inevitable flush that floods his cheeks is enough to make Remus change the subject.

He isn’t really surprised to find out, a couple hours later, that Sirius has cornered Harry as they clean up the last remains of supper. 

“How are things at Hogwarts? Any good news?”

Harry seems taken aback. “You know how things are,” he says, looking at Sirius as if he’s considering his godfather lost his mind. Remus winces, then unsuccessfully tries to get Sirius’ attention.

“I was thinking about things you might not mention in a letter or during a fireplace call, like… Maybe some romance in the air?”

Smoothness, Remus considers, was never Sirius’ strength. Harry flushes a deep red, all his attention in drying the dishes as if his life depends upon it.

“Er—okay. Not anything worth mentioning, just the same.”

“The same,” repeats Sirius slowly. Perhaps he senses that Harry is ready to run — his eyes have shifted to the door a couple times as if he is considering how many steps he needs to be away from there — because Sirius suddenly smiles. “You know, your father never had eyes for anyone but your mother.”

Harry’s eyes open. “Really?”

“Really.” Sirius looks only encouraged. “Now, James was a popular guy, a Quidditch hero, had a great sense of humor, and of course an amazing taste in his best friend, so there were girls chasing after him, but he never cared for anyone else. And he was right, because he and Lily… they were just perfect, destined to be together.”

There’s a dreamy expression on Harry’s face. Remus knows Harry is away thirsty for any information he might receive from his parents, so he may just be considering this new piece of the puzzle that are his parents. But as he drifts, destined or not, Harry’s gaze seems to fall on the corner where Ginny is now sitting by herself, playing with the cat.

And Sirius, bless him, notices it. He barely contains a grin.

“So, you get what I mean, right? When you find the one, you know you did. Someone with whom you really connect, someone who makes you laugh, who gets you. You don’t waste your time snogging anyone else…”

Harry blinks, suddenly pulled back to Earth. “Snogging?” His gaze is suspicious. “Who said anything about me… snogging?”

“No one. This is not the point, I just—”

“It’s late, I should get some sleep.” Harry glances helplessly at Remus, who nods.

“We’ll leave for St Mungo’s early tomorrow,” he agrees.

“Right.” Sirius looks as flustered as Harry does. “But Harry—you understood what I said? About the one—”

“Yes, yes.” Now Harry is almost at the door. “Good night!”

Remus gives him a few seconds before shaking his head at Sirius. “You should not have—”

“I just did what I am sure James and Lily would like me to do. They would adore Ginny.” The mischief is back on Sirius’ eyes. “Speaking of—I heard Ginny might be dating someone, I think she needs a piece of advice as well.”

“Fred and George have mentioned her Bat Bogey Hex—” But Sirius is not listening to him anymore, already crossing the room. Remus sighs as he sits to watch the scene; he supposes he could use a last laugh before going to bed.

[slitheringghost]

Could you expand on your thoughts around Walburga being physically and sexually abusive?

I’ll be expanding on the physical abuse in another meta. But as for sexual abuse, Sirius just immediately gave me the vibes of a CSA/incest survivor the moment I read OoTP in 2020 and I haven’t been able to shake that. The Black family and incest is a fitting combination in general because of the Gothic Horror of the House of Black, and the obvious ties of incest to gothic tradition. There's no real evidence as such, it's mostly symbolism that can be read that way.

1.0 Sirius in Walburga's room

First, while fandom sometimes reads Sirius staying in Walburga's room as a sign of him missing and grieving her (likely comparing it to Harry staying in Sirius’s room in DH), I think it has a very different meaning. OoTP is all about Sirius being retraumatized - by being back in Grimmauld Place, by his mother's portrait abusing him, and by locking himself up in his mother's bedroom. Sirius shut up in Walburga's bedroom parallels Harry being locked up in his cupboard or his room with the cat flap and locked up in Umbridge's office for 7 hour detentions. This frames the site of trauma for Sirius, the place where he's retraumatizing himself, specifically as his mother's bedroom. It's along the lines of trauma reenactment.

Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry’s hand and beaming just like the rest of them; soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak. As the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer, he became more and more prone to what Mrs. Weasley called “fits of the sullens,” in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time.

This parallel is even more glaring when Harry spends hours in the same room after he views Arthur being attacked with himself as Nagini, punishing himself the way the Dursleys punished him by confining himself in a room and not eating (and for around 6-7 hours, the same time amount that he spent in Umbridge's detention):

When he heard Mrs. Weasley calling his name softly up the stairs around lunchtime he retreated farther upstairs and ignored her. It was around six o’clock in the evening that the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black started screaming again. Assuming that Mundungus or some other Order member had come to call, Harry merely settled himself more comfortably against the wall of Buckbeak the hippogriff’s room where he was hiding, trying to ignore how hungry he felt as he fed Buckbeak dead rats.

2.0 Comparison to Umbridge

Another detail is that Walburga is consistently compared with Umbridge in OoTP, and there's these passages where the emphasis on Umbridge's touch evokes sexual violence:

“Hand,” she said. He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings. “Tut, tut, I don’t seem to have made much of an impression yet,” she said, smiling. “Well, we’ll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? You may go.” Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly up the corridor then, when he had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear him, broke into a run. She moved toward him, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” she said softly.

“Great,” said Harry distractedly; if he did not tell somebody soon, he would burst. “Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge’s office and she touched my arm . . .” Hermione listened closely. When Harry had finished she said slowly, “You’re worried that You-Know-Who’s controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?”

After these instances, Harry calls Umbridge an evil, twisted, mad, old hag, which feels like loaded language. The evocation of sexual violence here is echoed in Umbridge being dragged away by centaurs at the end of OoTP as an allusion to Greek myths of centaurs raping women - basically, Umbridge's metaphorical sexual violation of Harry is retaliated with metaphorical sexual violation against her. I often see fandom question why that reference to the centaur myth is put in there -- this is part of why, but people don't realize it because most don't notice the sexual violation imagery in Umbridge's behavior (it has more significance too, I'll probably get to it in later metas).

Umbridge touching Harry is also a parallel to Voldemort going "I can touch him now" in the graveyard (and "you shudder when you touch me" to Wormtail), with the same undertones of sexual violation, the connection made explicit when Harry thinks Voldemort's possessing Umbridge when she touches his arm. And as I said here, Harry running away from Umbridge's office directly parallels Sirius running away from home, and from Walburga more specifically.

3.0 Small details

There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that none of them could open

I like the symbolism of Merope's locket ending up in Grimmauld Place for many years, indicating that the same violence as what Merope experienced in the Gaunt shack also occurred in Grimmauld Place, which of course included incest and sexual abuse (more on the meaning of Merope's locket here). The Blacks are very much on the extreme end of wizarding society and they're the most heavily paralleled to the Gaunts but have much more power, so it makes sense that they'd be extreme regarding abuse in every way (Bonus: I HC the musical box mentioned next to the locket was once used to forcibly put a victim to sleep for the perpetrator to assault them unconscious).

The mention of Walburga's gloves is also interesting, as it alludes to Walburga's hand and Walburga's touch:

“Mundungus Fletcher,” croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. “Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures, my Mistress’s gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and — and —”

Which is an interesting contrast to the mention of Lily's warm hand and Lily's comforting touch in the same book (this is emphasized for Harry explicitly, but Lily's letter was written to Sirius, so it also ties Lily's warm loving touch to Sirius):

The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.

Of course most of these are just me stringing disparate details together that don't have to mean anything! But the text does explore sexual violence, some of them in a literal way (Merope, probably Ariana), some more metaphorical (Voldemort violating Harry), and idk the Blacks having sexual abuse in the family just makes most sense to me (I also HC Cygnus as sexually abusive but that's not the topic of this post).