#or rogue bludger

[greenerteacups]

Has Hermione set Snape of fire in Lionheart?

so no actually! reason being that in this universe, draco doesn't steal neville's remembrall ==> harry doesn't catch it ==> mcgonagall doesn't notice and override the first-year rule ==> harry doesn't make the quidditch team until second year tryouts + quirrell never jinxes harry's broom, meaning hermione never mistakes it for snape and sets him on fire (and accidentally distracting quirrell in the process). The bluebell flames that she conjures in Chapter 48 are a nod to that episode, and an establishing moment that she does know how to conjure them, she just hasn't used them offensively. (Yet).

i actually adore the bluebell flames as a motif, because (1) hermione is the only person we see in the series to conjure them, suggesting they're either something she came up with herself or it's an obscure variant of a flame-conjuring spell that she's fond of for personal reasons. but then also, (2) they're such a potentially rich symbol: it's fire, with all the connotations of warmth and bravery and ferocity and unhinged danger, but it's blue, which is associated with coldness, clarity, beauty, water. and then there's the fact that blue flames are used as visual shorthand (not necessarily realistically, but there you are) for being hotter than normal flames. it's so cool.

and like, it's not just "blue" flames, it's "bluebells," which are a kind of hyacinth — kids, never ever use a floral color descriptor around a flower nerd — but the word "hyacinth" comes from the Greek myth of Hyacinthus, a lover of the sun God, Apollo, who kills Hyacinthus by accident. and when he can't bring Hyacinthus back, he grows these blue flowers that are shaped like Hyacinthus's hair to remind him of his lover. and for Hermione, I think there's something resonant about loving someone so powerful and strong they can't help but hurt you; about being a mortal, and therefore expendable, because you don't have the right blood, and how that subjects you to violence even by people who try to care about you and protect you. and we could set up all kinds of parallels between Apollo and Harry, or even Ron, and not to get on my bullshit about how hermione is underappreciated in the original books but she IS—

but anyway. hey. do you know what the Greek epithet "Hyacinthine" means? Curly-haired.

[starchaserdreams]

Wolfstar Microfic: Rogue

Remus was paying attention to the Quidditch practice. 

He was. 

Well…

Sort of.

But James and Sirius playing with a quaffle was hardly anything new. James would fly, and shoot, and Sirius would either save or miss. It had happened about a hundred times today alone, not to mention all of the other practices that Remus had sat through.

So Remus was also trying to revise, but without a textbook in front of him, it was rather hard. 

So at the exact moment that it all happened, Remus was listing off the medicinal properties of dittany from memory. He’d just finished with effects when eaten and had moved on to topical properties on skin, when a rush of voices woke him from his inner monologue. 

���Ahhhh!” That was Sirius. 

And then “Nooooo!” That was James. 

And then there was uproarious laughter.

Remus focused his eyes, and the problem was immediately obvious. 

The two boys were meant to be practicing just themselves with a quaffle, but somehow a bludger had managed to free itself from its box. 

James was flying in a wide arc around the stadium, the bludger trailing behind. 

Sirius grabbed a club from the ground and raced up to join them. He was howling with laughter, immensely enjoying the chaos of a rogue bludger.

Remus couldn’t help but smile; the two of them were so ridiculous sometimes. 

Remus had sort of expected them to catch it and put it away, but he hadn’t given them enough credit for how much they liked chaos. 

They continued playing together, and James stayed shooting, but Sirius took over as Beater rather than Keeper. 

They tired themselves out pretty quickly, but even so by the end they were still laughing. 

Once the bludger and the quaffle were put away, they found Remus in the stands. They were already talking excitedly about what had happened. 

Sirius slung an arm around Remus easily, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

It made Remus smile to feel so immediately brought in to the moment. Trust Sirius to know how to include him right away. 

“I can’t believe a bludger got loose, they should make those cages safer,” Remus told them. 

Sirius grinned, looking ecstatic. “Were you worried about us, Moony?”

Remus felt himself blush. “Never,” he said immediately.

But Sirius was not at all deterred. “Awww, Moony loves us, that’s why he worries,” Sirius said, running his hand through Remus’ hair. “Don’t worry, we love you too.”

Both James and Remus just smiled in response, because really, who could resist indulging Sirius in whatever he wanted? Not either of them, not ever.

@wolfstarmicrofic

[iris-qt]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 2.4ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ, ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴛʀᴀᴘꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ꜰᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ. (Warning: cussing)

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed as Theodore Nott strode into the pub, snowflakes following him in as his trenchcoat billowed around him.

Count on Nott to make a grand entrance.

It was dinnertime and quite packed with travelers and regulars. 

Even some Hogwarts students here and there who had either snuck out or were of age, therefore allowed to leave the castle on weekends.

Theodore nervously cracked his frozen knuckles as he slipped off his trenchcoat, leaving him in a soft cashmere turtleneck, as he took a seat in a cozy corner of the bustling yet cozy pub.

He swore to Merlin he’d hex Mattheo and the rest of the lads silly if this was some sort of prank or setup. The truth is, Theodore Nott had felt quite lonely as of late: not that he minded.

Like at all.

He loved his solidarity.

But his dear old friends had been taking it the wrong way, thinking their new, bustling social life with their romantic partners, internships, and extracurriculars or whatnot had pushed Theo away. 

After much begging and persuading (and Mattheo offering to pay for the date), they had finally gotten Theo to agree to a blind date with a girl they found that they claimed was ‘perfect’ for Theodore. 

He doubted it.

Well, if the girl came with a mute button and plenty of cigarettes to share, then perhaps. But Theo wasn’t oblivious, he saw the way girls treated him, always talking his ear off trying to charm him by faking interest in books he read or operas he adored. 

He didn’t mind talkers.

I mean his best friend was Mattheo Riddle for Merlin’s sake.

But he hated fakers.

And then he also hated people that thought they were better than him

Like Y/N Y/L/N.

Ugh.

Ok, maybe she sometimes got better grades than him, but did that make her better than him?

Fuck no.

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed again, and Theodore glanced up from his untouched butterbeer, only to freeze mid-sip.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Clad in a fluffy red scarf and beanie, no less.

Y/N Y/L/N, your scarf loose around your neck and your cheeks flushed from the cold, scanned the room with sharp, intelligent eyes. Your perfectly pressed coat betrayed not a single wrinkle, and your boots clacked against the wooden floor with unnerving precision.

His stomach sank like a poorly cast Levitation Charm.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath.

You spotted him almost instantly, brow furrowing as your gaze flicked between him and the bar. Then, you made your way over, every step radiating purpose.

"Theodore Nott," you greeted, voice dripping with suspicion as you slid into the seat across from him. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Y/L/N," Theo replied coolly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "But I’m guessing you’re not here for a pint and a philosophical debate about Arithmancy theories."

Your eyes narrowed. "Are you... waiting for someone?"

Theo hesitated, a dawning sense of horror creeping over him. "I might be. Why? Are you waiting for someone?"

You pulled off your scarf, setting it on the table as you glared at him with an incredible intensity, he wondered how your furrowed eyebrow creases weren’t permanent at this point. "You’re kidding me."

Realization hit them both like a rogue Bludger.

"Wait," you began, your voice dangerously calm. "Are you my blind date?"

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. "No. No way. This has Mattheo written all over it. That git."

You let out a sharp laugh, equal parts exasperation and disbelief. "Unbelievable. Your friends set you up with me? Are they trying to ruin your life?"

"Clearly," Theo drawled, his tone dry. "I mean, of all the girls at Hogwarts, they pick the one that thinks she’s smarter than me"

Your jaw dropped dramatically. "I don’t think I’m smarter than you, Nott. I am smarter than you. You just can’t handle the fact that I’ve beaten you in every subject except Potions."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "You only beat me in Charms last term because Flitwick is clearly biased."

"Biased?" you threw your hands up. "I wrote a twenty-four-inch essay comparing historical uses of nonverbal magic to modern applications. What did you write about, Theo? Oh, right. You didn’t write anything because you were too busy sulking after losing the chess tournament."

"I wasn’t sulking," Theo snapped, cheeks flushing. "I was... reflecting."

You smirked, clearly enjoying yourself. "Right. Reflecting with a scowl so deep it could rival Draco's pockets"

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching upward. "You’re insufferable."

“Aw Theo, you can do better than that..” You pause to scan the menu as you steal Theodore’s butterbeer, much to his chagrin as he mutters something under his breath. “What was that?” you smirk, bringing your eyes up in a teasing manner. “Tryna hex me there, Theodore Nott?”

He purses his lips as you reach out to shake snowflakes out of his hair with a snicker.

Did your eyes deceive you or did he blush? Nah it was just the biting cold.

“Let me guess. Silently judging what I’m about to order?” you scoff, trying to distract from the awkward silence after your intimate gesture.

"Only if it’s that ridiculous concoction with extra marshmallows," he retorted.

"Fine," you said, lifting your chin. "Then I’ll take two extra marshmallows just to annoy you."

Theo chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "Merlin help me, this is going to be a disaster."

"Oh, it already is," you quipped, raising a sarcastic toast with Theo's butterbeer you stole earlier. "But don’t worry, Nott. At least you’ll have something to sulk about for the next month."

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And you’ll have a great story to tell everyone about how you drove me mad in under an hour."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," you muttered with a smirk of your own.

And as the tension between them slowly gave way to reluctant amusement, neither of them noticed the group of grinning faces peeking in through the pub’s frosted window.

The iced window of the Three Broomsticks provided just enough visibility for Mattheo Riddle to squint through, his nose practically pressed against the glass.

“Move over, Mattheo,” Pansy hissed, shoving him to the side. “I can’t see a thing with your massive head in the way.”

“It’s a normal-sized head, thank you very much,” Mattheo muttered, but he shifted slightly to let Pansy peer through.

Behind them, Draco Malfoy stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit the reluctant participant. “This is ridiculous. We’re grown wizards. Spying through pub windows is beneath us.”

“And yet,” Blaise Zabini drawled from where he leaned lazily against the wall, “here you are. Standing outside in the snow like a commoner.”

Draco huffed. “I’m only here to witness the fallout. I give it twenty minutes before one of them storms out.”

“Fifteen,” Blaise countered, pulling out a pocket watch. “And they’ll start warming up to each other.”

“I’m saying ten,” Pansy whispered, squinting through the fogged glass. “Shit, look at Theo’s face. He already looks like he’s plotting her demise.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Mattheo said, grinning as he craned his neck to get a better view. “He’s clearly smitten.”

Pansy snorted. “Smitten? He looks like he’d rather be dueling a Hungarian Horntail than sitting across from Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t look thrilled either,” Blaise noted, smirking as he caught a glimpse of you animatedly gesturing at Theo.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mattheo interjected, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wicked grinch-like grin on his face. “This is going exactly as I planned. The tension, the banter... it’s perfect. By the end of the night, they’ll either be snogging or plotting a joint murder spree.”

“Optimistic of you,” Draco muttered.

“Shut up, Draco,” Mattheo shot back. “You’re the one who said they’d ‘never even stay for the date.’ And look! There they are. Sitting. Together.”

Pansy tilted her head, watching as you leaned forward, your hands waving in exaggerated frustration. Theo responded with a slow, deliberate smirk, clearly enjoying riling you up.

“Is it just me,” Pansy whispered, “or does Theo look like he’s having fun?”

Draco leaned in to take a look, his silver eyes narrowing. “He’s smirking. That’s usually a bad sign.”

“Not this time,” Blaise said, his grin widening. “He only smirks like that when he’s impressed. Y/N must have said something clever.”

“I told you,” Mattheo exclaimes triumphantly. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“Or they’ll duel right in the middle of the pub,” Draco muttered, though even he couldn’t hide his curiosity.

“I still think it’s sweet,” Pansy said with a satisfied sigh. “Even if Theo’s too stubborn to admit it, he needs someone who can keep up with him. And Y/N is the only person who ever has.”

The group fell silent for a moment, watching as you mockingly raised your hot chocolate, your eyes sparkling with sarcastic delight. Theo rolled his eyes, but there was a trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Look at that,” Blaise said softly. “He’s smiling.”

“Smirking,” Draco corrected.

“Close enough,” Mattheo said, clapping his hands together. “Operation Set Theo And Y/N Up is officially a success.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Pansy noted, glancing at Blaise’s watch.

“Pay up, Draco,” Blaise said smugly, holding out his hand.

Draco scowled but reluctantly reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of sickles. “This is the last time I bet on Theo’s love life.”

“Shush!” Pansy hissed. “They’re looking this way!”

The four of them ducked down in a comically uncoordinated scramble, huddling against the frosty wall.

Inside, Theo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his gaze flicking toward the window. “Did you see something?” he asked, turning back to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, like your dignity? No, I don’t think so.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin save me.”

Outside, Mattheo stifled a laugh. “They’re going to kill us when they find out.”

“Worth it,” Pansy whispered, grinning.

The frosted glass of the Three Broomsticks didn’t do much to shield Mattheo and the others from the biting wind, and after an hour of spying, their enthusiasm had significantly dwindled.

“Alright, I’ve seen enough,” Draco announced, brushing snow off his shoulders. “They’re bickering like usual. This is going nowhere.”

“Give it time,” Mattheo said stubbornly, though his teeth were starting to chatter. “Theo plays the long game.”

“You’re the only one playing a game,” Blaise said, adjusting his scarf. “And I’m freezing. Let’s go before Pansy turns into an icicle.”

Pansy glared at him. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. But for the record, if I get frostbite, I’m hexing you all.”

As if to punctuate her point, a sharp gust of wind whipped through the alley, sending a flurry of snow right into their faces.

“Alright, fine,” Mattheo grumbled, reluctantly stepping back from the window. “Let’s go before we all catch dragon pox.”

“You mean frostbite,” Draco corrected.

“Same thing,” Mattheo muttered, trudging away.

The group disappeared into the swirling snow, their laughter fading as they made their way back to the castle.

Inside the pub, Theo watched the window suspiciously, his brows furrowed.

“Dude, what are you looking at?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped his butterbeer you stole and your hot chocolate in turn, just to annoy him.

“Nothing,” Theo muttered, shaking his head. He was sure he’d seen movement, but it was probably just the wind.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Because glaring out the window like that is completely normal behavior.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Theo shot back, leaning back in his chair. “Not everyone walks through life oblivious to their surroundings.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with mock concern, resting your chin on your hand. “Should I be worried about the snowflakes plotting against us? Or maybe it’s a herd of rogue unicorns coming to rescue me from this disaster of a date?”

Theo rolled his eyes, taking a deliberate sip of his butterbeer as he dragged it away from you. “If only they’d hurry up.”

Their exchange was cut short when the door to the pub opened, letting in a fresh gust of icy wind. A group of travelers stumbled in, bundled in layers and dusted with snow, their voices loud and cheerful. The sudden influx of cold air sent a shiver through the room, and you tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“It’s getting worse out there,” one of the newcomers said, stamping snow off their boots. “Could barely see five feet in front of me.”

Madam Rosmerta appeared from behind the bar, her expression turning serious as she listened to the chatter. She glanced toward the windows, where the snow was now falling thick and fast, sticking to the glass and obscuring the view outside.

Theo followed her gaze, frowning. “Looks like we’re in for a real storm.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered, leaning back in her chair. “Just what we needed.”

Before Theodore could fire back a response, Madam Rosmerta clapped her hands, drawing the room’s attention.

“Listen up, everyone!” she called out, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation. “I’ve just received word from Hogsmeade Station. The storm’s picking up faster than expected. Roads are closing, and it’s not safe to travel. If you’re here, you’re staying until it clears.”

A collective murmur of concern rippled through the pub.

You blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait, what does she mean by ‘staying’?”

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. “She means we’re stuck here, Y/L/N. Do try to keep up.”

Madam Rosmerta walked over to their table, her usual warm demeanor tinged with apology. “Sorry about this, dears. It’s for everyone’s safety. We’ve got spare rooms upstairs if you need them.”

You stared at her, mouth slightly open. “You mean we’re stranded together?”

“Looks like it,” Theo muttered, looking like he was already mentally preparing to endure the ordeal.

“Wonderful,” you said flatly, sinking back into your seat. “Truly the cherry on top of this perfect evening.”

Theo shot her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching with a reluctant smirk. “Cheer up, Y/L/N. It’s not every day you get the privilege of spending the night in my company. Imagine how jealous the others will be when you tell them”

“If I had a wand right now,” Y/N muttered, “I’d turn you into a snowman and leave you outside.”

The storm outside howled louder, sealing their fate as the pub doors were bolted shut.

pt. II here ♡

@animatedglittergraphics-n-more for divider

[vilentia]

In Ink and Blood

George Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Masterlist

The Great Hall was unusually quiet for a Monday morning. Normally, the clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversations created a lively backdrop to the start of the week. Today, however, the mood was subdued, the air heavy with unspoken tension. George frowned as he glanced down the Gryffindor table, his toast untouched on his plate. Something was off.

Y/N sat at the Hufflepuff table, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed over a bowl of porridge. George couldn’t put his finger on it, but she seemed… smaller. Quieter. She wasn’t laughing at something one of her friends said, nor was she shooting him a wry glance across the room as she often did.

Fred nudged him. “You’re staring, mate.”

“I’m not,” George said automatically, though he knew Fred wouldn’t buy it. “She’s just… not herself today.”

Fred followed his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe she’s having an off morning. Happens to the best of us.”

George didn’t respond. He pushed his plate away and stood abruptly, ignoring Fred’s curious look.

George caught up with Y/N in the corridor between classes. She was walking with her bag slung over her shoulder, her steps slower than usual.

“Oi, Y/N!” he called, quickening his pace.

She turned, and for a moment, George saw something flicker across her face—relief? Fear? But she masked it quickly, offering him a small smile. “Hi, George.”

He frowned. That wasn’t her usual sharp, teasing tone.

“Everything all right?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

“Of course,” Y/N said quickly. Too quickly.

George tilted his head, studying her. “You sure? You’re quieter than usual. Not plotting my downfall, are you?”

Y/N managed a weak laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No plots today, Weasley. I’m just tired.”

“Tired?” George repeated, unconvinced. “Y/N Y/L/N doesn’t do tired. What’s really going on?”

She waved him off. “I’m fine, George. Really. I just didn’t sleep well.”

George narrowed his eyes, but before he could press further, the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class. Y/N slipped away into the crowd, leaving George standing in the corridor, his unease growing.

It wasn’t until after lunch that George got his answer. He was heading back to the Gryffindor common room when he overheard two Ravenclaw fifth-years whispering near the library entrance.

“Did you see her hand? It was horrible!”

“Serves her right for mouthing off to Umbridge. She should’ve known better.”

George froze, his ears pricking at the mention of Umbridge. He stepped closer, his heart pounding.

“Who are you talking about?” he demanded.

The two Ravenclaws jumped, their faces paling when they saw him. “No one,” one of them stammered.

George wasn’t in the mood for games. “Don’t lie to me. Who had detention with Umbridge?”

The other Ravenclaw hesitated, then muttered, “That Hufflepuff. Y/N Y/L/N. She got caught defending some first-year in the corridor yesterday.”

George’s blood ran cold. Y/N hadn’t mentioned anything about a detention, and now she was acting so… unlike herself. A sickening thought hit him like a rogue Bludger: the blood quill.

Without another word, George turned on his heel and marched toward the Hufflepuff common room.

It took some persistence and a fair bit of charm to convince a passing Hufflepuff to fetch Y/N for him, but eventually, she appeared at the doorway, her expression wary.

“George? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

They ended up in an empty classroom, the silence between them heavy as Y/N closed the door. George turned to her, his arms crossed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N blinked, feigning confusion. “Tell you what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” George said, his voice sharper than he intended. “I know about the detention. With Umbridge.”

Y/N’s face fell, and she looked away, her hands clutching the strap of her bag. “It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” George echoed, his voice rising. “You call that fine? She made you use the blood quill, didn’t she?”

Y/N didn’t answer, but the way her shoulders tensed was all the confirmation George needed.

“Y/N,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Let me see.”

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” George said firmly.

After a long moment, Y/N sighed and set her bag down. Slowly, she extended her right hand, pulling back her sleeve to reveal the faint, angry lines etched into her skin: I must not interfere.

George stared at the words, his jaw tightening. The sight of her skin, marked with Umbridge’s cruel punishment, filled him with a fury he could barely contain.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked, and he looked up at her, his eyes blazing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N shrugged, her expression guarded. “What would you have done? Burst into her office and started throwing fireworks?”

“That’s not the point,” George said, his voice shaking. “You didn’t deserve this.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “It wasn’t about me. She was bullying a first-year. Calling her useless because she tripped in the corridor. I couldn’t just stand there.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” George muttered, his anger now directed entirely at Umbridge. “Because you’re you. Always standing up for the little guy.”

Y/N gave him a small, sad smile. “Someone has to.”

George shook his head, his fists clenching. “This isn’t right. She can’t get away with this.”

Y/N reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “George, listen to me. The last thing I want is for you to get yourself in trouble because of me. Just… let it go. Please.”

But George’s eyes were hard. “No. I’m not letting this go.”

They sat together in silence for a long time, the weight of Y/N’s injury hanging between them. Finally, George spoke, his voice quiet but resolute.

“I’m going to make this right.”

Y/N frowned. “George-”

“No,” he interrupted, meeting her gaze. “You don’t have to fight this alone, Y/N. You’ve been standing up for everyone else, but who’s standing up for you?”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But then she sighed, her shoulders relaxing.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

George reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “I mean it, Y/N. If she ever does anything like this again, you tell me. Promise?”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Promise.”

George’s grip tightened for a moment before he released her hand. “Good.”

As they left the classroom together, George’s mind was already racing with plans. He didn’t know exactly how he would do it, but one thing was certain: Dolores Umbridge had just made a very dangerous enemy.

Masterlist

[my-castles-crumbling]

Sirius Black attracting the attention of every girl at Hogwarts but hardly blinking.

Sirius Black walking around in a leather jacket and skinny jeans, just fucking oozing confidence.

Sirius Black winking at Professors and flirting with Rosmerta at the bar, completely at ease.

Sirius Black playing Beater on the Gryffindor team, standing on his broom to reach a rogue Bludger and keeping his perfectly styled hair intact.

Sirius Black seeing Remus Lupin smile at him and falling down six flights of stairs.

[koyagifs]

shattered trust

pairing: Ravenclaw!Hongjoong x Hufflepuff!reader au: harry potter genre: angst | fluff | Summary: as the years go by, you never noticed the dark side of your lover.

Warning(s):

Some cursing, their ages will be aged up a bit! This fic is not meant to reflect how Ateez are in real life. This is a fanfic.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14

st masterlist | ateez masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖☾

Sitting in your compartment, Hongjoong by your side as Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho sat across from you. The ride back to Hogwarts was always your favorite, the joy of seeing your friends always warms your heart. Hongjoong laid asleep on your lap, his gentle breathing creating a calming rhythm. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, a stark contrast to the lively chatter of Seonghwa, Mingi, and Yunho across from you.

“Looks like he’s finally out,” Seonghwa teased, glancing at Hongjoong with a grin.

“Someone had to keep him up during the Sorting Feast,” you replied, brushing a strand of his hair from his face.

Mingi leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “You mean you were just talking his ear off? Poor guy!”

Yunho laughed, shaking his head. “Can’t blame him for dozing off. It’s been a long day.”

As the train sped through the countryside, the scenery blurring past, you felt a warm sense of belonging. You leaned back, letting the rhythmic clatter of the train soothe you. The anticipation of a new school year filled the air, and despite the challenges ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.

“What do you think the new year will bring?” you mused aloud, breaking the comfortable silence.

Seonghwa shrugged, a thoughtful expression on his face. “More adventures, I hope. And hopefully fewer detentions.”

“Yeah, right,” Mingi scoffed. “With Wooyoung around, we’ll probably have a record number.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Not if we stick together!”

Yunho nodded in agreement, and as you all exchanged hopeful glances, you felt a surge of excitement. This year better be less dramatic you thought, remembering the drama that happened since Harry Potter came to school.

You shuddered slightly at the memory of last year’s escapades, from surprise Quidditch matches to that chaos involving a rogue bludger and a rather angry hippogriff. “Honestly, I’m hoping for some peace this time,” you said, shaking your head.

“Peace? In this school?” Seonghwa chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Good luck with that!”

“Hey, we could at least try!” you countered, your smile returning. “Besides, maybe we’ll get some new classes that’ll keep us busy. I heard there’s a new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Mingi perked up at that. “Really? What do you think they’ll be like?”

“Hopefully not another one who goes mad halfway through the year,” Yunho added, crossing his arms.

“True, that would be nice,” you agreed, glancing at Hongjoong, who remained blissfully unaware of the conversation, still sleeping peacefully. “But whatever happens, at least we have each other.”

The train rattled on, and you caught glimpses of the lush greenery outside. You could almost feel the magic in the air, a mix of anticipation and nostalgia. The thought of another year filled with spells, laughter, and unexpected surprises made your heart race.

Just then, Mingi leaned back, pretending to think deeply. “You know, if we’re going to have more adventures, we should definitely come up with a team name!”

“A team name?” you echoed, amused.

“Absolutely! Something cool and epic!” he insisted, gesturing dramatically.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” you challenged, leaning in with a grin.

“Um… how about ‘The Daring Duelists’?” he suggested, striking a heroic pose.

You all burst into laughter, and even Hongjoong stirred slightly, blinking awake to the joyful chaos. “What’s going on?” he mumbled, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

“Just discussing our epic team name!” you said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Please tell me it’s better than ‘The Daring Duelists,’” he chuckled, stretching his arms.

“Let’s just say we’ll work on it,” Yunho replied, a teasing glint in his eye.

With that, the conversation flowed seamlessly, filled with laughter and friendly banter, as the Hogwarts Express carried you closer to another unforgettable year that is unbeknownst to you all.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁

You sat beside your fellow Hufflepuffs as the sorting feast, conversing this years plan to win the house cup. Feeling a pair of eyes, you looked around until you noticed Hongjoong eyeing you. You waved, causing him to blush as he noticed that he was caught. As you waved at Hongjoong, his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, and he quickly looked down at his plate, trying to act nonchalant. You noticed Mingi confusion before he looked where Hongjoong was just staring at before he chuckled, shaking his head as he began to tease Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but giggle at how easily he was flustered.

A felt a tap from behind, turning to see Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho and Wooyoung a smirk plastered on their face as they noticed the interaction between you and Hongjoong.

“Looks like we’ve ruined a moment,” Yeosang said, his smirk growing as he leaned towards you.

You turned to face them, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flooding through you. " clearly you Gryffindors have no idea what you're talking about"

They laughed as Wooyoung put a hand over his heart dramatically. “Ouch! A direct hit!”

“Don’t worry, we’re just here to support your blossoming romance,” Yeosang teased, leaning closer. “Consider us your cheer squad!”

“More like a bunch of gossips,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself.

Jongho piped up, “We’re just trying to help you out! Imagine how epic it would be if you two ended up together and we had the inside scoop!”

“Yeah, imagine the stories we could tell!” Wooyoung added, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can already picture the headlines: ‘Hufflepuff Heartthrob Caught in a Love Triangle!’”

You shook your head, laughing. “You all are impossible.”

“Just remember,” Seonghwa said, a playful glint in his eye, “we’re here to make sure you don’t miss your chance. We’ve got your back!”

As the laughter continued, you felt a warm glow of friendship surrounding you. But then you noticed Hongjoong glancing your way again, his expression more curious than before. For a moment, your heart raced at the thought of him actually being interested.

“Okay, okay, enough!” you finally declared, trying to regain some composure.

They laughed again before they turned back to their table, Dumbledore standing up to give his usual speech before declaring dinner was over.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁

There all 7 of you sat at the quidditch field, watching Mingi and Hongjoong practice as they soared through the air on their broomsticks, the wind whipping through their hair. You leaned back against the bleachers, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the field. The rest of your friends—Seonghwa, San, Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho, and Wooyoung—were scattered around, chatting and enjoying the show.

" i think Ravenclaw has the quidditch cup this year. Better watch out Gryffindorks," You said, smirking at the four proud lions that huffed in annoyance.

"laugh it up little badger, we have Jongho on the team now," Yunho said.

You turned your attention back to the field, where Hongjoong was effortlessly gliding through the air, weaving around Mingi with impressive agility. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his confidence radiating as he practiced his shots on goal. You couldn’t help but admire his determination.

“Look at him go,” you muttered, a small smile creeping onto your face. “He’s really in his element.”

San, overhearing you, smirked. “See? Even you can’t deny he’s got skills.”

“Fine, I’ll admit it,” you said, half-heartedly, glancing back at your friends. “He’s good.”

“Good? More like phenomenal!” Wooyoung shot back, laughing. “Just wait until the first match. He’ll have all the Ravenclaws trembling.”

" just admit it ynie~ you have a crush on our Hongjoongie" Seonghwa said, tickling your sides making you squeal.

You burst into laughter, squirming away from Seonghwa’s fingers. “Stop it! I do not!” you protested, though your cheeks were undoubtedly flushed.

“Oh, come on! It’s written all over your face,” San chimed in, his playful smirk growing wider. “You can’t hide it from us!”

Just as you were about to deny once more, Mingi and Hongjoong landed near by. Wooyoung was going to tease you once more before you took your wand out and casted out Silencio. With a flick of your wand, the spell took effect, and suddenly, the teasing voices of your friends fell silent. They looked at you in surprise, their mouths moving but no sound escaping. You couldn’t help but grin at the success of your spell.

You smiled, blowing them a kiss as you began your decent down the stairs to met Hongjoong and Mingi. Wooyoung, ever the dramatic one, pretended to act out a silent scream, clutching his heart. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. You pulled Hongjoong by his practice shirt, giving him a peck on his cheek that made him blush profusely. Mingi let out a whine, " where's mine little badger?"

You turned to Mingi, placing a kiss on his cheek as well. Both boys now blushing profusely. The footsteps of everyone launching from their seats, their voices coming back as you lifted up the spell from them. As the spell lifted, the air filled with laughter and playful banter once more. Wooyoung dramatically clutched his chest, feigning a swoon. “What is this madness? Kisses flying everywhere!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, enjoying the moment as both Hongjoong and Mingi tried to hide their embarrassment. “Just spreading some love!” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye.

The boys all crowded you, begging for a kiss from you as Mingi and Hongjoong howled with laughter.

[bradleysass]

Candles - @noblehouseofgay - word count: 650 - 25 Days of Jegumas

The frosty air bit at James Potter’s cheeks as he and Regulus stepped into the Bath & Body Works. The store was a sensory explosion: twinkling fairy lights strung along the shelves, festive music blaring from the speakers, and a staggering array of candles lined up in perfect rows.

“Alright,” James declared, clapping his hands together. “We’re here to find the perfect Christmas candle. Something warm, inviting, and appropriately festive for when the gang comes over. Easy, right?”

“Easy,” Regulus repeated, though his tone was skeptical. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his sleek black coat, surveying the store like a general strategizing before a battle.

James wasn’t intimidated. Candles? Candles were fun. He grabbed Regulus’s hand and led the way to the first display.

It didn’t take long for the trouble to start.

“What about this one?” James asked, uncapping a jar of Frosted Cranberry and taking a deep whiff.

The scent hit him like a rogue Bludger. The sweetness was cloying, the tartness unbearably sharp. His Animagus senses—which turned his nose into something far too canine at times—amplified the smell to an almost nauseating degree.

“Oh, Merlin.” James stumbled back, nearly knocking over a display of Winter Candy Apple lotions. “Why is it so strong?!”

Regulus quirked an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You didn’t think to account for your overly sensitive sense of smell?”

“No,” James admitted, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to regain his composure. “I didn’t think Bath & Body Works would be my downfall.”

Regulus sighed, taking the jar of Frosted Cranberry and sniffing it with far more restraint. “It’s not bad,” he said. “But it’s too fruity for Christmas.”

“Agreed,” James mumbled, leaning heavily on Regulus’s shoulder. “You’re in charge. I can’t do this. It’s like being trapped in a room full of scented fireworks.”

Regulus rolled his eyes but didn’t shrug James off. Instead, he gently guided his overwhelmed boyfriend through the store, deftly navigating past crowds of shoppers.

“Here,” Regulus said, plucking a jar of Fresh Balsam from a shelf. He opened the lid and held it up for James, who recoiled instinctively.

“I’m not sniffing it!” James declared, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll describe it,” Regulus said, his tone dry but affectionate. “It smells like a Christmas tree. Woodsy, crisp, just the right amount of pine. Not overpowering.”

“That sounds nice,” James admitted, still clinging to Regulus for dear life.

“Good, because it’s going in the basket.” Regulus dropped the jar in, his movements efficient as always. “Let’s find one or two more and get you out of here before you pass out.”

The next stop was the Holiday Bakery section. Regulus picked up a jar labeled Vanilla Bean Noel and uncapped it. “Smells like sugar cookies,” he reported after a cautious sniff.

“Sold,” James said weakly. “If it smells like food, it’ll make Sirius happy.”

“You’re lucky you have me,” Regulus teased, though there was warmth in his voice as he tucked James closer.

“I really, really am,” James agreed, letting Regulus lead him toward the register.

By the time they left the store, James was clutching a bag of candles like it was a victory trophy, leaning heavily on Regulus for support.

“We’re never doing that again,” James groaned.

“Agreed,” Regulus replied, though his smirk suggested he’d found the whole ordeal amusing. “Next time, we’re shopping online.”

As they walked back to their car, the first snowflakes of the evening began to fall. James looked up, his nausea already fading as the cool air cleared his senses.

“Hey, Reggie?”

“Yes, James?”

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

Regulus chuckled, slipping an arm around James’s waist. “Don’t forget it, Potter.”

And with that, the two of them headed home, their Christmas candles in tow, ready to make their house smell like the coziest holiday ever.

[leona-hawthorne]

congratulations on 1k! can I get a latte art? I’m a Gryffindor and my favourite class is Astronomy. congrats again!

thank you!! hope you like it 💝😚

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ FULL OF SURPRISES… theodore nott

Astronomy class wan’t for another three days, but there you were, perched on the stone floor under the open sky, muttering incantations and waving your wand. It wasn’t your usual choice of study spots, but this was the best place to see the constellations—plus, the stars shimmering against the ink-black night helped you focus. Or at least, that was the idea.

So far, your “focus” had resulted in three singed pages of parchment, a wand sparking uncontrollably, and an inkpot rolling perilously close to the edge of the tower.

“Accio inkpot,” you whispered sharply, pointing your wand.

Instead of gliding into your hand, the inkpot shot past you like a rogue Bludger, colliding with the stone wall. You winced at the echoing smash.

“That was tragic,” drawled a voice behind you.

You froze, the words registering in your mind like a delayed firework. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the voice. There he was—Theodore Nott, half in shadow, leaning against the doorway with an air of effortless detachment. His tie was loose, and the moonlight glinted off the silver ring on his finger. You’d seen him before, of course, in the halls and in the occasional shared class. He was that Slytherin boy—the quiet one with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience,” you said, heat creeping up your neck.

“Well, you certainly made an impression.” He stepped forward, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His smirk was small, but undeniably cocky. “What are you doing up here? Astronomy isn’t until Thursday.”

“I’m practicing,” you said defensively, gesturing toward the open textbook beside you. “Not all of us can coast through homework without trying.”

“Is that what you were doing?” His gaze flicked to the scattered remnants of your inkpot and the slightly charred edges of your parchment. “Because it looks more like you’re staging a battle scene.”

You huffed, scooping up your wand as if you could salvage your dignity with a well-aimed glare. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“Ah, Gryffindor pride.” His voice was teasing, but his tone was light. He crouched beside you, his movements so smooth you barely noticed he’d joined you until he was close enough for you to see the faint crescent scar just above his left eyebrow. “If you’re trying to map constellations, you might want to use the Starlight Charm instead of… whatever that was.”

You blinked at him, startled. “How do you—”

He cut you off with a knowing smirk. “How do I know that? Because some of us actually pay attention in Astronomy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against yours as he straightened your wand. “Here. Like this.”

The warmth of his touch was fleeting, but it left your skin buzzing. You hesitated, watching him as he pointed your wand toward the sky and muttered an incantation. A faint, silvery glow emitted from the tip, soft and steady, casting an ethereal light over the parchment. The constellations on the page aligned perfectly with the stars above, and for the first time all evening, your work actually made sense.

You stared at the parchment, then at him. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”

He leaned back on his heels, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “It’s a gift. Don’t take it too hard—learning from a Slytherin isn’t the end of the world.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m taking it very hard,” you deadpanned, but there was a spark of humor in your tone.

Theodore chuckled, low and quiet, the sound unexpected but not unwelcome. “Tell you what,” he said, standing and brushing nonexistent dust from his trousers, “if you manage to get an O on this assignment, I might even let you thank me later.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re awfully confident for someone who just invited himself to my study session.”

“I wouldn’t call this a session,” he quipped, walking backward toward the doorway. “But you’re welcome, anyway.”

With a last smirk, he turned and disappeared down the staircase, leaving you staring after him, unsure whether you were more flustered or amused.

[immobulusmalfoy]

Rogue Bludger // Oliver Wood x F!Reader

Summary: Oliver Wood and his Quidditch-obsessed best friend are performing for talent scouts when tragedy strikes, leaving her to care for him. In all reality, it's literally two idiots in love with each other and Quidditch. Warnings: Mentions of injuries/bodily harm and food. A/N: Is this terrible? Yes. Is it also super cute? Yes again.

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Match days always set me on edge, though I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the fact that today’s match was one of the last ones that actually mattered, the match just before the Quidditch Cup. This match would decide whether or not we played against Slytherin who had already beaten their opponents. We were playing Ravenclaw, a surprisingly good team and one not to be underestimated.

Oliver nudged me with his shoulder, broom at the ready beside him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” I finally answered, nodding to myself. He grinned.

Oliver and I had met on the train our first year when my book of quidditch trading cards spilled on the floor in front of the carriage doorway that he was occupying. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he noticed the spilled cards, quickly hopping down from his seat to help me clean them up. After that, we spent the entire ride talking about the cards and quidditch—our favorite teams, our favorite players, what position we wanted to play at school, which house we thought we’d end up in—and the like.

I’d like to say we became best friends that day, but I’m not sure Oliver would have said the same until two weeks later when we had our first flying lesson and appraised each other’s flying skills, understanding then that both of us weren’t just talking ourselves up when we raved about quidditch. Of course, we couldn’t try out for the house team until our second year, though, so we spent our extra time talking about quidditch strategies for when we were finally able to play on the team and about various other things. Our obsession with the sport usually turned others away, but I found it refreshing that someone else loved the sport as much as I did and didn’t mind that I was a girl.

When we’d tried out for the team, Oliver tried out for Keeper and I tried out for Chaser, the two positions we’d been eyeing since we were little kids on our toy brooms. We were ecstatic when we found out we’d both made the team, celebrating with butterbeers the Saturday after tryouts. And now we were here, playing for our house, and hopefully winning the Quidditch Cup for the first time.

The stands were filled with people from all four houses and even some of the professors, all cheering for the two teams playing. Oliver assured me he’d snuck to one of their practices and that we’d win for sure, but when I heard the cheering and felt the energy in the air, I wasn’t so sure of my own abilities.

“Just play your heart out, lass. It’ll be alright. Don’t even think about the scouts.” Oliver murmured beside me before mounting his broom and flying to position. I flew to my own position, watching Oliver and the Ravenclaw team captain shake hands. Madam Hooch’s whistle blew, starting the game.

I hardly remember what happened when everything started, just that it was a flurry of passing the quaffle around and throwing them through the hoops to get our points. I managed to throw the quaffle in Ravenclaw’s hoops twice, avoiding bludgers and other players like the plague.

I chanced a glance at Oliver, knowing we were winning, when I spotted a bludger heading straight for his head. I screamed his name, but he didn’t hear me, his head turned the other way. The bludger struck him in the side of his head, knocking him off his broom. He fell fast, faster than I expected. Professor Dumbledore arrested his motion with a quickly muttered spell, Madam Hooch hurrying over to him to assess the damage when he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Harry was eyeing me as well as Oliver, so I flew past him, shouting as I went, “Catch that snitch now, Potter, or you’ll never play quidditch again!”

I no longer cared that we had scouts in the stands or that we were down twenty points. If Harry didn’t catch that snitch, I knew I’d have his hide. He seemed to sense my desperation and beat the Ravenclaw seeker to the snitch as fast as he could.

Once the game was won, I descended to the pitch to find Oliver, but he wasn’t there. Madam Hooch noticed me and informed me he’d been moved to the Hospital Wing already so Madam Pomfrey could see what could be done.

“Aren’t you going to talk to the scouts? Puddlemere United wants to speak to both of you!” she called out as I ran away, but I didn’t even care. My best friend was hurt. The boy I cared more about than anything was injured and I didn’t know how badly. Who cared about quidditch when Oliver’s life was on the line?

I ran faster than I ever had before and was breathless once I reached the hospital wing a good ten minutes later. Madam Pomfrey stopped me from coming inside, complaining that I was dirty and sweaty and needed a shower before I came near her patient. She was right, of course, but I didn’t care.

“But he’s my best friend! I just want to make sure he’s alright!”

“Mr. Wood is asleep, but if you keep shouting like that then you won’t even be allowed in once you’ve cleaned yourself up, young lady.” she sniffed, shutting the big door in my face.

I muttered a curse under my breath and lightly kicked the door before heading back to my room to shower and change, avoiding everyone’s congratulations and cheering.

I was back at her door within the hour, banging on it to be let in, which Madam Pomfrey did grudgingly. She led me to Oliver’s bedside and left me there with the instructions that I shouldn’t bother him, but that I could talk to him quietly since she suspected that he was in a coma due to the head trauma.

Oliver looked terrible. Blood was matted to the side of his head where the bludger had hit and he was a sickly shade of green, but I refused to let it bother me as I sat in the chair beside his bed.

“Hey, Oli. Feeling rough, are we? I know you’re sleeping and I hope I don’t wake you, but I just had to tell you that I was really scared. So scared. Godric, I hope you’ll be okay. Who will talk Quidditch with me if you don’t make it? Who will play for Puddlemere with me?”

He didn’t flinch. The gravity of the situation hit me and I quietly called for Madam Pomfrey.

“What can I do for him? Can I clean up his head with a cloth or something? I want to make him comfortable if possible. And I’m not leaving.” I said sternly.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, realizing that I wouldn’t budge and handed me a basin of warm water and a few white cloths.

“Gently clean the wound with the cloths. Head wounds bleed a lot, so you may see more bleeding. Just be careful and don’t press too hard. I gave him a bit of Skele-gro to ensure that the bones in his head heal themselves, so it may hurt him a lot if you press in just the wrong place.” She explained some more instructions on how to care for him then moved on to a few Ravenclaws who happened to catch bludgers to their arms or legs. Thank goodness for the Weasley twins who seemed to have enacted vengeance on behalf of me and their captain.

I did as she asked, gently cleaning Oliver’s wounds and keeping an eye on him. I didn’t leave him either. Dinner passed in the Great Hall and Angelina brought me a plate to eat, but I refused to leave. I slept at his side and did my homework beside him for a full week as he slept, position never changing although his skin color certainly improved. Our friends brought me food while I kept a radio going most of the time so he could listen to the quidditch stats around the country and fielded visitors so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed if he suddenly woke up.

A whole week and no stirring. Madam Pomfrey assured me that I shouldn’t worry, but I’d hardly showered or eaten the whole week for worrying. I’d stayed awake as much as possible and took short naps when needed in case he woke up, but still nothing.

The twins had tried tapping his face when I was napping, Madam Pomfrey had tried a few healing spells, and I’d even set coffee near his nose to see if that would awaken him, but nothing seemed to work. I was informed that he’d wake up when he wanted to, but surely now was a good time? We had a match set for a week from now and he wouldn’t even be cleared for it if he didn’t wake soon.

“Oliver, love, you need to wake up.” I whispered over and over when no one was watching. “You have no idea what this is doing to me.” After a whole ten days of sitting beside him and tending to him, the full gravity of the situation hit me and I ended up falling asleep on my chair with my head laid on his bed near his arm.

I woke to someone’s hand tangling in my hair, my name being hoarsely whispered. My bleary, sleep-filled eyes didn’t immediately register that it might have been Oliver, but that notion was quickly dissolved as I whipped my head up and winced because Oliver’s hand was still tangled in my messy hair. He quickly released my hair with a sheepish grin.

“Hi.” he whispered. The area was lit with a single candle, so it wasn’t too bright in the darkness, but he squinted his eyes anyway.

“Oliver!” I scooted my chair closer and grabbed one of his hands. “I thought you’d never wake up.” My voice broke with the sentence and Oliver’s eyes softened.

“Did we win? How long have I been out?” he asked hoarsely.

“Well, you’ve been out for about ten or eleven days. I’m not sure what time it is. But, yes, we did win. I threatened Harry within an inch of his life if he didn’t catch the snitch after you got hit in the head with a rogue bludger.”

“Is that why my head hurts?”

“Does it hurt? I can get Madam Pomfrey. I’m sure she has something that will help.” I made to get up, but Oliver tugged my hand.

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“She’s been here the whole time, Mr. Wood.” Madam Pomfrey suddenly appeared, much to my surprise. She looked at me pointedly and sniffed, “I had charms set on his bed that would alert me when he woke up, young lady.”

Madam Pomfrey did a few checks and then gave Oliver a small amount of some greenish potion he swore tasted like toad eggs to help alleviate the pain in his head.

“Well, Mr. Wood, overall you look good for having been in a coma for over a week. We were able to keep you in a magical stasis so you shouldn’t have any weakness in your muscles or anything, but we’ll test that in the morning. Do you have any questions?”

“When can I play quidditch again?” Oliver asked seriously.

Madam Pomfrey snorted.

“Mr. Wood, we can discuss your game in the morning. Now, I think it would be beneficial to eat a little something like toast and then get some sleep. We can evaluate everything in the morning and see where you are. How does that sound?” she explained. He agreed and she got him some toast and water to drink. Once he’d finished eating, he laid back down but scooted all the way to the side of his bed and beckoned for me to get in with him.

I hesitated, but eventually climbed in under the blankets with him. We faced each other in the bed and whispered about the game for a few minutes before Oliver started staring at me.

“Have you really been by my side the entire time?” he asked quietly, the fingers of his left hand interlacing with my right over the blankets. I nodded, suddenly sheepish.

“Honestly, it was the scariest thing. I saw the bludger heading your way and I screamed your name, but you didn’t hear me and you were hit really hard in the side of your head. I thought you were dead when you landed on the ground. I couldn’t leave the game, though, so I made Harry catch the snitch so I could get to you. Madam Pomfrey made me shower and change first before she let me in, but I’ve been here ever since. Angie and a few of the others bring me food and homework, so I’ve been doing that while waiting for you to wake up. I just—I thought I lost you, Oliver. I can’t imagine doing that. I never want to lose you.” My worried tone related the story quickly, knowing he didn’t like it when he was hurt and liked it even less when it made him miss a match.

Oliver lifted his hand out of mine to trace my face, eyes intently memorizing every line. But I could tell they were drooping and knew he’d be asleep soon.

“You’ve always been there for me, haven’t you,” he murmured. And then he was out like a light, asleep and snoring, nose twitching sporadically as he did. The sight warmed my heart since he hadn’t been sleeping like that for over a week.

“Goodnight, Oli.” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose before snuggling into his side and falling asleep again myself.

When I woke again, it was to Madam Pomfrey and Oliver’s hushed voices discussing what I’d been doing while Oliver was in his coma.

“She was here at all hours and never left. She brushed off the talent scouts who wanted to speak with her after the match and took her meals here. She slept by your side when she did sleep and even did her homework here. If that girl isn’t in love with you, then I’ll quit healing.” she snorted. Oliver’s chest rumbled in a quiet laugh, but I pretended to stay asleep. I could feel one of his hands against my hair, his fingers brushing through the strands.

Frankly, I wasn’t super thrilled that someone had finally brought up my deepest secret, the fact that I was in love with my best friend. It sounded childish—like something from a silly muggle romance novel—and I hadn’t fully come to terms with it yet. The fear of rejection wasn’t allowing that.

“I don’t suppose anyone bought her food today so far?” I heard him ask quietly.

“No, not yet, but I’m sure the Johnson girl will be bringing some by in a bit and hoping to see you.” Madam Pomfrey replied.

“Thank you.” Oliver murmured. Not even five seconds later, he was poking me in the side and demanding I wake up.

“What the hell, Wood? Why can’t I sleep?” I groaned.

“Because you aren’t sleeping. You forget that I know you like the back of my hand.” Oliver replied pointedly. “Now, you’re going to march out of this room and take a shower, then get some breakfast, and then you can come back. And you’d better bring my planning binder because we have some strategizing to do.”

I sat up in the bed and looked at him, dumbfounded.

“Who are you?”

“Your Captain and your best friend.” He grinned. “Now, do as I say. You can bring me some food as well because I’m starving.”

“Aye aye, ‘Captain’” I grumbled as I climbed out of the bed. “It’s not as if I’ve taken care of you this whole week.” Oliver’s eyes softened as I muttered the phrase and he quickly took my right hand in his while he had the chance.

“I know you have. And I appreciate it more than you know. But our futures are on the line right now and we have talent scouts breathing down our necks. If you don’t clean yourself up a bit and get some food, you won’t be worth anything today and I need your brain to strategize.”

I nodded in agreement and left to do as he asked. It took a little while, but I was soon back with a plate of food for Oliver and feeling much better than I had when I’d woken up. Oliver was sitting up and waiting for me with a smile on his face.

“Is that for me?” he asked when he spotted the plate.

“No, it’s for my other invalid friend in the bed over there. Of course it’s for you, you numpty.” I snorted, throwing his binder on the bed and handing him the plate.

He thanked me with a mouth full of food, already flipping through his pages and pages of plays in the binder. That thing had been through two generations of Woods and I suspected it might make it through a third or fourth if Oliver had anything to do with it. Oliver’s dad had been on Gryffindor’s quidditch team when he was at Hogwarts, having met Oliver’s mum in class (she was a Hufflepuff).

Oliver pored over the different plays, making notes on a pad of paper he kept attached to the front of the cover. Every once and a while he’d point one or two out to me as he ate his breakfast. By the time he’d eaten all his food, we had a pretty good handle on the plays we’d be using against Slytherin in two days' time.

“Has McGonagall said anything about the talent scouts we didn’t see? Will they come back?” Oliver asked nervously.

“She said they were very impressed, so I hope they’ll come back. She knows how important this is to us.” I reassured him. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure they would. But I hoped so.

We were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey who promptly told us Oliver could leave as there was nothing else she could do for Ollie’s “thick head” as she put it. So back to class we went.

Charms, Potions, and finally Defense Against the Dark Arts. Assignments from each and every professor. And a summons from McGonagall to meet her in her office. Oliver groaned.

It wasn’t like Oliver and I didn’t like McGonagall. We did. But I knew Oliver like the back of my hand and I knew he wanted to get out on the pitch as quickly as possible to practice some of the plays we’d outlined. And I’d bet money that he was planning to get the rest of the team together too.

He grumbled all the way to her office, sticking close to me as we speed-walked to the office.

But it wasn’t just McGonagall there. A man and woman stood next to her desk, smiling at the two of us.

“And here they are, my star players!” McGonagall introduced us proudly, allowing us to shake hands with the two scouts who’d been at the last match.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” The man smiled pleasantly, “and I trust you’re feeling better after your unfortunate accident, Mr. Wood?”

“I am, all thanks to my best friend and the best chaser here, sir.” Oliver said, bumping my arm as he answered. I could feel the heat on my neck rising at his praise.

“Excellent! Well, we don’t want to make you both worry. My colleague and I would like to make both of you an offer.”

Oliver and I looked at each other excitedly.

“We’d like to offer you both a contract with Puddlemere United. To be specific, a reserve contract. However, we have a few players potentially transferring teams or retiring within the next few seasons, so it’s more than likely a temporary contract before being offered a better one.” The woman jumped in.

Oliver’s eyes widened. This was exactly what we hoped for, having pored over the quidditch stats and player lists to see what might suit both of us together.

“Would that be agreeable to you both?” the recruiter asked.

“Absolutely. Thank you so much. We’ve been dreaming of this for years.” Oliver grinned. I nodded in agreement, offering my own thanks.

“Wonderful. Then we’ll plan to sign the contracts right after the Quidditch Cup championship this weekend. We’ll see you there!” They shook our hands again, wishing us luck and leaving the room.

“Congratulations to the two of you!” McGonagall smiled, her eyes a bit wet. “I’m very proud of you both and I expect you to play a perfect game this weekend.”

“You can count on us.” I replied firmly, knowing we’d win the match even if it killed us both.

After 32 hours straight, drilling and doing homework, as well as going over strategy after strategy, the game had finally arrived. The biggest game of Oliver and I’s lives. Right here and now.

I gulped, staring at the stands which were filled with all the students of Hogwarts plus our parents, whom McGonagall had invited for the day. It was nerve wracking, but also so exciting.

I felt a presence on my left and Oliver slipped his hand into mine. I looked up at him.

“Whatever happens, I’m proud of you.” He started, “but you better play your arse off, y’hear me?”

“As if I wouldn’t, idiot,” I scoffed goodnaturedly, pulling my hand out of his and moving forward to where the rest of the team was congregating. I proudly watched Oliver give his final starting speech, and then we were off, brooms high in the sky.

The quaffle was thrown and the next two hours flew by. Gryffindor was up by thirty points until Slytherin got ten more points. At that moment, I saw Harry zero in on something near the ground, something glittering and gold. He dove for it, as did Malfoy, but both came up empty handed. It had disappeared.

I lost track of time, zooming and flitting about, performing a few fancy moves Oliver and I had worked on. Time stretched out and moments felt like they took forever as we kept scoring against each other. And then he did it. Harry caught the snitch, effectively ending the match. And we’d won!

The team was ecstatic, having just won the first Gryffindor house cup for Quidditch in years and I landed in disbelief, having not quite let the news sink in yet. Slytherin was on the other side of the pitch, angrily tossing their brooms to the ground, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. We’d won!

The twins called for a group hug, hoisting Oliver and I up on their shoulders for just a moment before complaining about our weight. I laughed when we were unceremoniously dumped back on the ground, looking over at Oliver who was sweaty and dirty and an all-around mess. Just like me. He was doing the same thing, running his hand through his messy hair as he stepped closer to me.

“We did it, Ollie.” I said, still breathless and incredulous, “We won.”

“Aye, we did, and it’s all thanks to you.” Oliver breathed, finally reaching my side amongst the thrall. And then he kissed me.

If I thought time had stopped during the game, then I was wrong because time definitely stopped as soon as his lips met mine. I could faintly hear wolf whistles and howls coming from the team around us, but I ignored it all in favor of kissing the boy I was in love with. When we finally broke apart to breathe, Oliver rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed.

“What was that for?” I whispered, scared of his response, but needing to know anyway.

“I—I’m in love with you.” he whispered back. “Have been for years. And it took me being knocked in the head by that bludger and seeing just how much you care to give me the courage to finally do something about it.”

“Oliver,” I started, “I love you too. Godric, the last few weeks were awful. I kept wondering if we’d really make it, if you’d ever love me back, if you’d survive your injury, et cetera. The list goes on and on. I’m so happy today. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy—not even the time we bought each other new brooms for Christmas. I love you so much.”

“Godric, can you two lovebirds stuff it? You’ve got papers to sign and we have a win to celebrate!” the twins scolded, and I had to laugh.

“Rest assured, we’ll be making out the whole party so you can stuff it yourselves.” Oliver grinned. “But you’re right. We’ve got contracts to sign.” he finished, taking my hand in his once again.

“Ready?” I asked, looking across the field to see the two scouts with McGonagall and our parents standing on the sidelines. McGonagall was smiling ear to ear, clearly thrilled at our win.

“Absolutely. All our dreams are coming true and I couldn’t be happier to do it all by your side.” He pressed a kiss to the side of my head and then we walked towards our future, hand in hand, united.

[lupinmoonlight]

Infuriating

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Snupin drabble. The news about Neville's boggart spread quickly. Severus Snape is furious, and Remus Lupin is in love. (667 words)

Tags - Snupin, kissing, fluff, enemies to lovers, grumpy snape, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - Hello once again from the depths of academia. I had less than 2 hours to write this silly drabble because I have a family event today. This is my first Snupin and I am terrified to post this. I know Snupin is a rare pair, so if you are not into this, it's all good! Feel free to filter the tags. Also, I will keep writing Remus x Reader. This is just for fun.

The rumour had hit the staffroom like a rogue Bludger. Professor Flitwick looked positively horrified. Professor McGonagall, ever the picture of stoicism, raised an eyebrow so high it threatened to disappear into her hat. 

"Neville's boggart..." Professor Sprout began, her voice a bit hushed, "transformed into Professor Snape." 

A collective gasp filled the room. Severus Snape, always working hard to look terrifying, transformed into something else? A weird blend of curiosity mixed with morbid fascination. 

"Apparently," Professor Sprout continued, "Professor Lupin here told the boy to make it wear his grandmother's clothes!" 

Laughter, both nervous and genuine, broke through the tense silence. All eyes turned towards Remus, who stood nonchalantly by the window, a picture of studied innocence. He could practically feel, however, the accusing glare burning a hole in his back from Snape. 

"Utterly humiliating," Snape hissed as soon as the bell rang, announcing the end of their break. The staffroom emptied in a rush, leaving Remus and Snape alone. 

"Dreadfully embarrassing," Remus offered, a sly smile playing on his lips. The way his eyes twinkled with barely contained amusement only deepened Snape's anger. Infuriating. 

"You call this a laughing matter, Lupin?" Snape's voice was a low growl. "That idiot boy's pathetic fear manifesting as...me, in those atrocious garments? Preposterous!" 

Remus, instead of cowering under Snape's usual tirade, simply threw his head back and laughed, a full, rich sound. The sight of it, coupled with the amusement in his eyes, did something strange to Snape. An unwelcome warmth was blooming in his chest, quickly followed by a comforting tide of irritation. NO. He did not have time for such things. Remus was infuriating. Yes. Infuriating. 

"Honestly, Severus," Remus finally said, "it wasn't that bad." A bit of harmless fun." 

Snape's pale cheeks burned. He hated it when Remus called him Severus. It felt...familiar, intimate. Something about the way he said it made his insides twist in a way they shouldn't. 

"Harmless?" he spat. "Longbottom is already as useless as his pathetic toad! And the rest of the class... seeing me walk out of this blasted wardrobe..." 

He trailed off, noticing the way Remus was inching closer. Before Snape could react, he was back against the cool stone wall, Remus' body warm and solid against his. 

"Relax, Severus," Remus murmured. "I'll make it up to you tonight." 

Snape's breath hitched. "Don't be ridiculous, Lupin," he blustered, but his heart hammered against his ribs. THE AUDACITY! To suggest such a thing...and in the staffroom, no less. 

A slow, infuriating smile spread across Remus' face. "Plus... it was about time you came out of the closet, Severus." 

"Coming out of - what are you even-" 

But the words died on his lips as Remus leaned in, the heat of his breath ghosting over Snape's lips. Before Snape could register the movement, Remus' lips were pressed on his, the kiss quick but enough to silence Snape. It was over in a flash, leaving him reeling, an infuriating mixture of anger, fluster, and a very unwelcome affection overwhelming him. 

"Lupin, you can't just-" Snape started. 

Remus chuckled. "Can't just what, Severus? Kiss my boyfriend? I think I can." 

Snape scowled, but there was no real anger behind it. "We're supposed to keep up appearances. The others can't know-" 

"Oh, come on, Severus," Remus interrupted. "It's not as if we're fooling anyone. Don't you see the looks Minerva is giving us?" 

"That's exactly the problem," Snape muttered, though it lacked conviction. 

"They don't care. And besides, I like seeing you all flustered like this. It's...endearing." 

Snape huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a desperate attempt to put distance between them. "You find everything endearing." 

"Only when it comes to you," Remus replied softly, leaning in for another kiss. 

This time, Snape didn't resist at all. "You're infuriating," he murmured, attempting another glare. 

"And you love me for it. See you tonight," Remus shot back as he vanished through the door, leaving Snape speechless, furious, and in love. 

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

First day

Written for @hinnymicrofic, Sept Day 1: Time (826 words so a little long)

“Mum! Mum! Dad! Daaad! I am starting Hogwarts today!”

Harry opened his eyes abruptly, looking at the little red-haired ball of energy at the end of the bed. “What time is it?” he croaked, reaching for his glasses and shoving them onto his nose.

“Six,” Ginny mumbled.

“Get uuup!” Lily begged them, pulling at the foot of the sheets.

Harry pulled back and frowned at her. “I know you’re excited, but I promise the train will not leave without you.” He ignored his wife’s muted snort.

“Go ahead and shower,” Ginny said. “We’ll be up in a minute.”

Lily escaped their room again and ran to the bathroom with the energy of a toddler on a sugar rush. Harry let his head drop back on the pillow and groaned. Ginny turned around to him.

“It’s annoying, really,” he said with a smile. “How much she’s like you.”

Ginny blinked slowly. “Shut up.”

“I suggest you handle her, since she’s bouncing around like a rogue bludger,” he suggested carefully.

“I am retired!” She shot him a disapproving look. “I think you should handle the little fugitive, Mr Head Auror.”

“Ah.” He shook his head. “I knew that promotion was going to bite me in the butt sooner rather than later.”

Ginny’s face broke out into a smile, and it was like the sun had broken through the clouds. “You bet.”

Before they could decide who would be in charge of their youngest, a blood-curdling scream came from the bathroom.

Ginny pushed the sheets off and took up her wand. “I’ll go.” She walked into the hallway. “You handle our sons!”

“Both?!” he asked.

“Yes!”

Harry got out of bed and got dressed. He walked to the bathroom first and knocked on the door. “All okay?”

Ginny sighed. “Someone put frogspawn in the shower head.”

At that moment the door at the end of the corridor and James stepped out. Harry turned around.

“What’s happening?” James asked.

Harry put on a stern expression. “There was frogspawn in the showerhead, would you happen to know about that?”

James looked down at the floor, avoiding his father’s gaze. “...No.”

Harry wasn’t convinced. “Go to your room, I’ll be there in a minute.”

James grumbled and trod off to his room, slamming his door. Harry shook his head. He peered into Al’s room, but as usual his middle child was deep asleep. He could sleep through anything. Harry took a deep breath and walked to James’s room.

James sat on the edge of his bed. Harry pulled up the desk chair and sat in front of his son.

“I didn’t do it!” James defended himself before Harry could ask anything.

Harry nodded. “But you knew about it?”

James looked down again. “I did.”

“And you didn’t say anything, why?” Harry asked.

His son looked at him with a grimace. “Because you’re usually the first to shower.”

Harry suppressed a smile. “I see.”

“I wouldn’t do that to Lily,” he argued.

Harry’s eyebrows raised.

“... on her first day of school,” he ended sheepishly.

“Who did? Was it Al?” Harry asked.

“No!” James said quickly. “Fred... and Hugo.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “That... that makes sense.”

James offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Should’ve said. I know Lily is so excited to go...”

“Please look after her,” he said. “Especially if she’s in Gryffindor.”

James scoffed. “Like she would let me!”

“Good point,” he said. He sighed, he couldn’t help being anxious for his youngest to go. “Just be there when she needs. She’s smart enough to ask for help if she has to.”

James nodded. “I will.”

“Get ready, make sure all is packed. Breakfast will be ready in a bit.” He stood up, ignoring the cracking noise his knee made.

“Hey, dad.”

Harry turned back around. “Yes?”

James scratched his neck awkwardly. “Remember those snitch-shaped fried eggs you made for all of us when I went off to Hogwarts the first time? I think Lily would like that.”

He grinned. “I’ll whip up some snitch eggs for everyone.”

“Dad, come here!” Lily said from the open bathroom door.

He walked in to see Ginny braiding Lily’s hair.

“Is it pretty?” Lily asked excitedly.

He locked eyes with Ginny in the mirror for a moment and then looked back at their daughter, both wearing nearly identical smiles. “Yes, I love it.”

Harry made his way downstairs and started on breakfast. It took some time to get the egg shapes right. Egg yolk in the middle, the whites of the egg acting like the snitch’s wings. Ginny snuck up on him and he turned around to kiss her.

“Where’s Lily?” he asked.

Ginny blushed. “I told her and James to let some steam off in the garden. I instructed her under no circumstances she was allowed to take James to the pond to help her get frog spawn for revenge. Absolutely not.”

“We’re such good parents,” Harry said with a grin.

[redheadspark]

Hi! Can I request "pulling them on their lap" with oliver wood please? Thank you! 💗

A/N - YAS! I do like this for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Rogue

Summary - Who knew a rogue bludger would bring two should closer together.

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“Oi, Fred!  Watch where you launch that thing!”

“That’s what your mum said last night when I was—Oof!”

“Next time I’ll aim for ya head!”

Fred cackled chucking the thrown towel back at him as Oliver was walking away from him, tossing the towel back in his duffle bag on the bench.  Since it was a bright Winter morning, some of the first snow of the year already melted though a new storm was due to come through in the Scottish Highlands that night. Since it would mean a frozen Quidditch field that would take a week to thaw out, or deep into springtime.  Oliver wanted to take advantage, even with it being the off-season for Quidditch and Gryffindor already won the Quidditch Cup for the year. 

After convincing his team that they would have a light practice, mostly to stay sharp on their brooms and to basically unwind after coming back from the holidays.  He was glad his team wasn’t giving him pushback when it came to a light trading session, in fact, they are game for it.  Mostly because it was a good excuse to get out of studying for the spring session that had just begun.

“Hey!  You forgot your jumper, Angelina!”  Oliver’s attention was caught with the sound of your voice, seem-jogging up to the field with your roommate’s jumper in hand and flushness in your cheeks thanks to the cold. Oliver’s heart quickened, seeing you smile at him as you approached him and gave an awkward wave.  It was no surprise to his team that he had a crush on you, from some time actually when you were introduced at an afterparty from a recent Gryffindor Victory a year ago.  Angelina was your close friend, though you were more of a bookworm and barely touched a broom yourself.  But you loved the sport all the same, a big fan and supporter of your House team, and would come to every game to root for your roommate.  

“Oh, hey Oliver!  Sorry for disrupting practice, Angeline forgot her jumper and I know she practices in this one,” You explained, showing the worn Gryffindor Quidditch sweater within your fingers.  Oliver just jumped, seeing you bundled up in layers to brave the cold but you looked simply lovely.  Especially with fresh snowflakes in your long thick hair that was already in beautiful braids.  

“No worries, thanks for bringin’ it for her.  I know she forgets sometimes,” He admitted, though he heard boots crunching in the light snow and grass over to the pair of you, you both seeing it was Angelina walking over to you with her own grin.

“I heard that!” She lightly scolded Oliver, though she took the jumper from your hands gently, “Thanks!  Let’s get some candy at Honeydukes after practice, I heard there’s a really good new candy that’s chocolate and it changes flavor when you eat it!  Oliver, wanna come?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna intrude with ya and—“ Oliver was about to say to Angelina, but you cut him off.

“I don’t think you’d be intruding,” you reasoned, though you were not trying to sound a bit too desperate in wanting him to come.  Not even Angelina knew you had a crush on the Quidditch Captain for some time, thinking of him as handsome and a great player of the game.  He was also quite funny, you find his sense of humor unique and comical apart from other humor you’ve heard in the past.  But there was something about Oliver that drew you to him, whether it was his drive or the spark he had within.  But you were intrigued with him.

“Yeah, come on Oliver.  You should live a little,” Angelina said in a snort as she threw on her practice jumper before skipping off with her broom in hand.  You were left alone with Oliver again, who was flushed a bit from your asking him to come with you and Angelina.

“It’s been a bit since I’ve been at Honeydukes,” Oliver admitted, seeing you grin widely with a bounce on your feet.

“Oh, you’ll love it!  They’re making fresh Pumpkin Pasties for the New Year, and the new chocolate they have is apparently delicious!  I tried it last week, and mine went from tasting like chocolate to peppermint!” You were explaining in excitement, Oliver hanging on your every word.  He would listen to you talk about Potions if you were going to, he simply loved hearing your voice and how you would describe all that you loved. He wished he had that enthusiasm apart from Quidditch.  

“Watch out!”  Both you and Oliver look at the same time, seeing a bludger flying in your direction at a fast rate.  Fred Weasley, the bat in hand, looked in agony as Angelina screamed out.  Your eyes went wide in horror and shock, frozen in your spot since the ball was so close to hitting you right in the head.  But Oliver was quicker, grabbing you by the elbows and yanking you towards him.  You both fell onto the bench, you perched on his lap and Oliver’s arms were around you as the bludger zipped past you both and slammed into the ground so hard it broke the grass.

“Merlin, Fred!  You trying to kill my roommate?!” Angelina roared as the rest of the team flew down to hoop off their brooms, yet neither you nor Oliver were thinking of them.  You both were staring at one another, Oliver’s arms around your waist and your hands clinging onto his practice robes as your eyes were wide on one another.  It almost felt like you two were in a bubble with one another and trying not to let it burst.  Oliver could breathe in the soft perfume you were wearing, and you could smell the leather on his practice pads along his arms and legs.  

“Ya…ya okay?” Oliver finally asked in a croak, you nodding your head rapidly as he finally had a soft smile on his lips.

“Fine…fine thank you, Oliver,” You sheepishly said to him.  Of course, the moment was cut short as Angelina bee-lined over to the pair of you as well as Fred, who looked so green in the face while Angelina helped you out of Oliver’s lap.  Inwardly, Oliver missed your warmth, how he could count the freckles along your nose, and the sweet perfume on your neck.

“You alright?” Angelina asked you, giving her a reassuring smile as you nodded.  She sighed, then whirling around to smack Fred in the arm, “Git!  Learn how to be a Beater for once!”

“I’m sorry!  Honestly!” Fred said to both yourself and Oliver, who was reluctantly getting up from the bench and trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, “This Bludger is daft I tell you!  I need to tell Hooch!”

It was safe to say that practice was cut short, which was fine by Oliver since he figured a trip together into Hogsmeade would be a good way to spend the rest of the day.  But he never forgot that moment with you in his arms, perched in his lap and looking at you as if he was some kind of hero for saving you from a nasty slam from a bludger.  

Both you and Oliver would laugh about it years after getting married right out of Hogwarts, then reciting the story to your son and daughter when they would ask.

The End.

February Prompt Session

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[noxxytocin]

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow Rating: E

When?

The question swirled in Ominis's mind like the steam rising from the sizzling soup he stirred on the stovetop.

Could it have been during his first year? Aboard the train?

He could still hear that blimey, boisterous boy bursting into his compartment like a rogue bludger, gasping for air as if he’d just been sat on by a troll. A fellow first-year, judging by the high-pitched squeak of his voice that made Ominis feel oddly self-conscious about his own. The boy reeked of fresh earth, with a hint of mint—undoubtedly the remnants of some pilfered sweet from the trolley, no doubt lifted with all the subtlety of a country lad who’s more accustomed to mucking about in fields.

“Bloody hell,” the schoolboy wheezed, gripping Ominis’s shoulders tightly. “You have to help me! Please!”

“Take your hands off—” Ominis started, but his protest was drowned out by a group of older students who stormed into his compartment like a herd of beasts. The peaceful start to his day had gone pear-shaped, leaving him feeling like a fish out of water—and not just any fish, but a particularly bewildered one, flopping around and wondering WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WAS GOING ON HERE.

"You'll pay for that, you little wanker!" one of the older boys roared. Ominis noted the subtle flick of a wand being raised.

“A friendly reminder," Ominis initiated in his carefully measured tone, "we're not on Hogwarts grounds just yet, so I’d strongly advise against waving that about like a complete fool."

"Who are you to order me around." the first boy sneered, only to be silenced by a swift jab to his ribs from one of his flying monkeys.

"Blimey, mate, he’s one of the Gaunts," the second boy blubbered. They all froze, visibly shaken, as Ominis turned to face them.

With an imperious smirk, he unleashed a string of foul-mouthed Parseltongue whispers. The group stumbled over one another in their hasty retreat.

"What was that?" the shaken boy asked in astonishment.

“Ominis Gaunt,” he countered, not the least inclined to entertain further inquiries.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow," the boy introduced, his eyes wide and shimmering with curiosity as if he’d stumbled upon a rare treasure. Ominis noted the beholden tone in Sebastian's voice. This one was easy to please. A simpleton.

“Pleasure,” Ominis sighed, his patience waning. “Now, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, right... sorry,” Sebastian stammered, retracting his hands. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Provided you do not cause any further disturbances.”

“Promise... hey, thanks for this,” Relief washed over Sebastied as he shared his gratitude.

“No need.”

However, Ominis's curtness did little to prevent the boy from probing him the entire way to the castle afterward.

Was it that moment? The sudden intrusion of this boy into his life?

Ominis had savored the peace within that train cabin. He was well accustomed to being alone, confined in corners, hidden away. He always had been. Yet, this Sebastian Sallow burst in like a gust of wind, tugging Ominis outside into the open.

He could have easily told Sebastian to find another compartment, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the boy chatter away endlessly. Somehow, this bloody git had managed to crack open the door Ominis had sealed tight. But how had he gotten the key...?

Hmm...perhaps it was another time...

...

Read the rest here!

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Smile

A HBP missing moment for @hinnymicrofic Day 1! 423 words

"Ginny, I am so sorry!" Peakes shouted at her hunched over body on the ground. He landed down next to her, reaching a hand out to comfort her.

Ginny smacked it out of the way.

His stupid, rogue bludger bashed into her face, putting her into this position. Judging by the pain in her face and the blood, well, everywhere, she probably had a broken nose.

Maybe it wasn't a rogue bludger, maybe she was a little distracted.

Speaking of, her distraction came running over to her, elbowing Peakes out of the way.

"Gin, you good?" Harry asked.

Ginny grinned up at him, "Never better."

Harry quirked an eyebrow and turned to face the rest of the team behind them. "Practice is over, you are all dismissed while I help Ginny find her missing tooth."

Missing tooth?

Ginny ran her tongue across the top of her mouth.

Oh yup, there's definitely a new hole there. That explains the blood in her mouth.

She sat up as the rest of her teammates shuffled back to the changing rooms. She gave a two finger salute and mouthed "Fuck you" to Peakes when he turned his back to her.

Harry crouched down in front of her, blocking the setting sun, a halo of light encircled him. It was truly unfair how attractive he looked after practice.

"Are you actually okay, Ginny?" Harry asked, green eyes filled with concern. His hand reaching out to give her ankle a squeeze.

"It's so sweet you're worried, but this is nothing compared to the injuries I sustained when I jumped out of Fred and George's bedroom window when I was 9."

Harry shook his head at her, "And why would you do that?"

Ginny shrugged. "Fred bet that I wouldn't," she said, smiling at him.

"You look kinda silly when you smile with the missing tooth," Harry said, pointing to his front tooth.

"No, I look terrifying and attractive," Ginny countered.

"Yes, and kinda silly."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. His thumb traced circles on her ankle. The sun continued to give Harry a soft glow. His eyes roamed all across her face, focusing on her busted up mouth. Her brain tried to not focus on the fact that he didn't deny she looked attractive.

The moment was ruined when Ginny coughed blood up all over the front of her practice jersey.

Very attractive.

"Come on, Toothless," Harry stood, extending a hand to Ginny to help her up. "Let's go visit Madame Pomfrey. I know she misses us."

[shostakobitchh]

Chapter 57: in the embers

“Again.”

Ariel blew a gust of air through her teeth, staring into Snape’s eyes, seeing her own reflected in them. She gave a curt nod, letting him know that she was ready, and he pushed through with surgical precision, the cold seeping all the way down to her toes. 

“Prepare yourself,” he said, his voice reverberating around her mental walls. “I will not stop, this time.”

She wanted to say that she wasn’t ready — that she was never ready whenever he attempted to penetrate her Shields, but she bit back her protest. He always stopped, though. Tonight though — he seemed more impatient with her progress than usual. He hadn’t tried to access her memories once — 

“Okay,” she said without moving her lips. 

Ariel felt Snape hesitate, just for a second, so quick it could barely be considered that, and then — 

“Legilimens!” 

She dug in her (metaphorical) heels. Ariel had grown quite adept at throwing up her Shields on her own command, but actually keeping Snape out was another story entirely. 

Ariel let herself detach, let her ocean replace the coldness from Snape’s intrusion, let the water swell over her toes and feet and legs until it was filling her up up up — a wave so high that anything would shatter on impact, would be lost to the waves and foam —

— and then Snape sliced right through it like a carving knife to a fitted sheet. Ariel heard herself gasp, but he was tearing through the swell and into something else — a memory — 

— a wall that was splintering —

Ariel could feel Snape moving through her mind like a needle. She fought frantically to drown him out, take that wave and smother his intrusion, but he was merciless, just like he said he would. She was no match for him. 

come hold my deepest secrets here among the foam —

The memory appeared, bursting into her consciousness like a rogue Bludger. It was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Aunt Marge's dog, snapping at Ariel's heels — its beady eyes filled with a malicious glee — like Aunt Marge’s had — like all of the Dursley’s had. 

It wasn't pleasant — it had a sharpness to it, like the tang of salt in the air. The dog, rabid and snarling, the peals of Aunt Marge's laughter echoing through the house. Ariel could almost feel the hot breath of the dog on her ankles as she stumbled, bolting from the house and into the cold night. The frost-covered ground bit into her bare feet, each step illustrating her escape. The laughter from within the house turned into far away echoes, muffled by the wind howling around her.

In the distance, the fairy lights twinkled softly. It had been Christmas Eve and the distant melody of a choir called as Ariel laid panting in the snow. God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay — 

Snape pulled out. Ariel released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. Her chest was burning, like it had been filled with water. 

“Not — not fair —” she wheezed. “You didn’t warn me it would be like that.” 

Her eyes found Snape's. They held something glacial, cold, and unyielding, but now, there was a crack in it. 

“To whom did the dog belong?” Snape asked in a very quiet, very scary voice. 

Ariel rubbed at her eyes — her head was going to pop like a balloon any second now. She could feel a headache forming around her sinuses. “Uncle Vernon’s sister.”

A flicker of something passed over Snape's face, quick as lightning, but Ariel had always been good at catching the lightning — it was the thunder that undid her. The thunder was loud and messy and gave her no time to brace for the impact. That was why she always seemed to make it worse whenever Snape lost his temper with her — she couldn’t think. 

“There is nothing comparable I could have used to prepare you.” Snape said stiffly, but he smoothed back the wild fringes of hair that had come free from her ponytail. Their sessions always ended like Ariel looking like she’d been attacked by a Devil’s Snare. 

“The ocean — it’s not enough.” Ariel panted, glancing up at him to find him looking at her — strangely. His eyes were distant, but he was frowning. 

“No,” he said. “It’s not.” 

She fought to control her breathing, her chest aching as if she had swallowed a handful of crushed ice — but the cold was also distancing, desensitizing, and she welcomed it. 

Ariel peered up at him. “What do you use?”

“You’ll see, in time.”

She frowned. “Can’t you just tell me?”

"No," Snape said curtly, his fingers still tangled absently in Ariel's hair. "The mind is a maze, Miss Evans. You cannot provide someone a map of your own to work for someone else's.” 

Ariel sighed, a deep frustrated sound. She hated when Snape became cryptic, but she supposed magic like this didn’t exactly have a straightforward answer, either.

[bradleysass]

Quidditch + Shoes + Broomstick - @moonchaser-microfic - wc: 541

Remus Lupin had seen many things in his years at Hogwarts, but nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the sight of James Potter, golden boy, and supposedly skilled Chaser, losing his shoe in the middle of a match.

One second, James was flying down the pitch with the Quaffle tucked under his arm, dodging a Bludger like a pro, and the next—his shoe was soaring through the air like some kind of rogue Snitch.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. The crowd gasped. Sirius Black, commentator extraordinaire, let out an excited, “AND THERE GOES POTTER’S SHOE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! TRULY A REVOLUTIONARY NEW STRATEGY!”

Instead of doing the sensible thing—ignoring the shoe and focusing on the game—James made the executive decision to go after it.

"James, no," Remus muttered from the stands, as if that would do anything.

James, being James, leaned forward on his broom, reaching for the falling shoe like his life depended on it. In the process, he lost control, tilted too far to the side, and—

Crack.

His broom wobbled dangerously, and for one horrifying moment, it looked like he was going to crash. But no—James Potter, ever the dramatic idiot, somehow managed to twist himself mid-air and catch both his shoe and the Quaffle before steadying his broom at the last second.

The entire stadium went wild.

"WHAT A PLAY!" Sirius bellowed. "I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO CALL THAT, BUT IT WAS BLOODY INCREDIBLE!"

James turned toward the Gryffindor stands with his usual smug grin, holding up the shoe like some kind of trophy. Then, as if remembering what he was supposed to be doing, he threw the Quaffle to Marlene McKinnon, who—being the actual competent player she was—scored immediately.

Later that night, after the inevitable Gryffindor win (because of course they won, despite James’ utter nonsense), Remus found himself on one of the overstuffed common room couches with James sprawled half on top of him, his head in Remus’ lap.

“You’re unbelievable,” Remus muttered, absentmindedly running his fingers through James’ unruly curls.

James grinned up at him, eyes still bright with post-match excitement. “Unbelievably brilliant, you mean.”

Remus flicked his forehead. “Unbelievably insufferable.”

James let out an exaggerated groan and stretched dramatically. “Moony, you wound me.”

“You nearly died for a shoe, James.”

James waved a hand dismissively. “You say that like it wasn’t heroic.”

Remus sighed, exasperated but still unable to stop himself from brushing a stray curl away from James’ forehead. James leaned into the touch, and Remus felt warmth bloom in his chest.

“Next time you pull something like that,” Remus murmured, voice softer now, “I’ll hex you myself.”

James smirked. “You’re cute when you worry.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m always cute.”

James grinned, utterly besotted. “Yeah, you are.”

Remus’ ears turned pink, but he didn’t look away. “Go to sleep, Potter.”

James hummed, nuzzling into Remus’ lap. “Only if you keep playing with my hair.”

Remus sighed in defeat, but his fingers didn’t stop their gentle movements.

James, ever the menace, smiled victoriously before letting out a content sigh, and Remus resigned himself to the fact that he was completely, utterly doomed.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind.