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angelfic · 1 year ago

Text

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

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hollowed-theory-hall · 24 days ago

Note

your post on harry’s handwriting was an eye-opener for me! ik his writing resembled his mother some and is decent overall, but i’ve never seen pics of it!

idk where the horde of fanfic writers came up with the weird notion that harry has bad/chicken scratch handwriting, which triggers me every. time. they make out his handwriting to be messy, his eating habits sloppy, his speech behaviour bumbling, his appearance unkempt, and that he’s rather messy as a person. which boggles the mind, because he’s used to cleaning up after the dursleys and probably enjoys an orderly space, if not super spic and span??? is it only certain fandoms, cuz they make the other character(s) all elegance personified and well-mannered? like, harry already is a well-mannered boy, otherwise petunia would’ve been tutting, clucking, and dying of shame even more before the nieghbours lmaoo. idk whether to cry or laugh, and sometimes it’s such a turn-off that i choose to rage quit fics.

please, if you have the time, i would love a thorough breakdown/meta on how harry actually comes across as a person!

Okay, I have so much to say about this. And omg, Harry's chicken scratch handwriting is one of my pet peeves in fics (here's the handwriting post, btw). Harry's characterization when done wrong in general, tbh is a huge turn-off for me. Becouse I love Harry, he's my boy.

So, what we're gonna look at is how other characters in the books perceive Harry, how he comes across in universe to people who can't read his mind (like we can, as the readers).

I'll start with a general note about how most characters in the books don't really know Harry. This is mostly because Harry, contrary to fanon interpretations, is a very private person and rarely talks about himself/his feelings/his thoughts out loud. This is a habit I believe was ingrained into him by the Dursleys.

Like, I mentioned in the past Harry doesn't talk as much as other characters. Scenes of the trio usually consist of mostly Ron and Hermione talking, for example. This is not becouse he doesn't have thoughts (he's quite judgmental inside his head, and we know he has a lot to say), but becouse he's used to not voicing a lot of them thanks to the Dursleys.

This essay turned out pretty long, but here we go:

How do others see Harry?

Harry comes off as confident. Harry is a defiant and courageous person, and this often comes off as confidence to other people. It's why Snape thinks Harry is arrogant and why most students are always sure Harry meant to do what he did. They think he has shit together because he comes off like he does:

Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn’t going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet. “How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. “He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers . . . The resemblance between you is uncanny.” “My dad didn’t strut,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “And neither do I.”

(PoA, Ch14)

Snape sees Harry as arrogant, when in fact Harry is just defiant and intelligent.

“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well ... I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

(HBP, Ch30)

Ginny (and other characters) believe he likes to save the wizarding world. That he is this confident hero and savior. I mean, they believe her lie about the tattoo, which says a lot:

and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it’s true you’ve got a hippogriff tattooed across your chest.” Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them. “What did you tell her?” “I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. “Much more macho.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Harry doesn't see himself as leader material, but it's clear everyone else does:

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

(OotP, Ch18)

Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”

(DH, Ch28)

“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?” As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells: “HARRY!” “It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!” “Ron!” “Hermione!” [...] “Are you all right, Harry?” Neville was saying. “Want to sit down? I expect you’re tired, aren’t—?” “No,” said Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione, trying to tell them without words that Voldemort has just discovered the loss of one of the other Horcruxes. Time was running out fast: If Voldemort chose to visit Hogwarts next, they would miss their chance. “We need to get going,” he said, and their expression told him that they understood. “What are we going to do, then, Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?” “Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well, there’s something we—Ron, Hermione, and I—need to do, and then we’ll get out of here.” Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused.

(DH, Ch29)

Everyone expected Harry in DH to have a plan of attack the moment he arrived because that's how he acts. Even in the above scene, he's in terrible pain from his scar, but the others don't see it. What they see is a Harry who looks exhausted but says no to rest because there's work to be done and they expect this of him. They see someone fearless and capable with a plan who could lead them, but this isn't what we see because we're inside his head.

How Harry doesn't speak much and acts overall quite distant, as in, he actively avoids the girls who fancy him:

Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls. “Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him

(HBP, Ch7)

And he only has two close friends and barley knows the other students in his year. Most students only know Harry Potter from the stories, rumors, and Dumbledore's end-of-the-year speeches about his heroism. They have no clue who the real Harry is — so they expect the hero they do hear about.

He stands his ground a lot (again, defiance):

Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily. “His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon’s. “She gave him an easy save.” “Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he nearly missed.”

(HBP, Ch11)

And more often than not, he does so coldly and calmly. A lot of his more fiery anger is a sign of trauma with Harry, his baseline anger reaction is cold.

All of this adds to him appearing to others as controlled, confident, and like he has everything together and could never have any issues. He comes off as this bigger than life person to most people. Snape isn't the only one who reads Harry's behavior as confident. But it's actually far from the truth.

We, as the readers, see how depressed Harry is. How lowly he thinks of himself and how much he doesn't think of himself as anything special when he very clearly is. But the fact he doesn't say any of it and has mastered the skill of acting cold and like everything is fine when he literally wants to die at the age of 5, no one knows. Even Ron and Hermione didn't truly realize the full extent of Harry's low self-worth until 5th year.

The other students are shocked to see Harry as angry as he is in book 5 because he's often way more controlled and well-mannered than that. They're used to seeing him cold and quiet, not firey. Most of his fire stays inside his head unless he's really angry or emotional in general (or traumatized):

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated. “Harry, no!” Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach. “So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking. There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night that Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge

(OotP, Ch12)

The shock of the other students, I believe, is because of what he's saying, yes, but it's also because Harry is behaving very unlike him here. He usually doesn't shout at teachers or anyone, really. He rarely speaks in classes actually.

And regarding his confidence, everyone, Ron and Hermione included, was sure Harry is super skilled and that that's how he evaded Voldemort:

“You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me —” “We weren’t saying anything like that, mate,” said Ron, looking aghast. “We weren’t having a go at Diggory, we didn’t — you’ve got the wrong end of the —” He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.

(OotP, Ch15)

They didn't for a second think he wasn't confident in his own abilities because Harry acts in a way that comes off as confident and capable. It's why everyone so easily accepts him as a leader under various circumstances. He acts level-headed while he's terrified, so everyone thinks he knows what he's doing except Harry (and the reader). Ron and Hermione had zero doubts Harry's skill was a big part of why he survived book 4, it's only Harry who doesn't think that.

The fact Snape bothered to extract his own memories during his Occlumancy lessons goes to show how he thinks Harry is talented, contrary to his words. He feared Harry would reverse the connection and see into his mind, otherwise he wouldn't have taken these precautions.

Think of Voldemort’s resurrection even. Inside his mind, we know Harry's terrified. We know he has no idea what he's doing.

But imagine being a Death Eater in the crowd and you see this 14-year-old kid stand up after being Crucio-ed by their lord, and he stands up, resists the imperius, and shouts at your lord like he thinks of himself as equal to him — or, perhaps, better than him:

“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio!” [...] I WON’T!” And these words burst from Harry’s mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him — back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body — back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing. . . . “You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now.

(GoF, Ch34)

That's pretty badass. Harry comes off like a confidant badass. And he gets more badass and confident as he matures (even if he isn't actually as confident as he appears).

Even in the DoM, Lucius Malfoy, who was in the graveyard, takes Harry seriously:

“Don’t do anything,” he [Harry] muttered. “Not yet —” The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. “You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!” “Oh, you don’t know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” said Malfoy softly. “He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.”

(OotP, Ch35)

Bellatrix makes fun of how Harry gives the other kids orders as if they're going to fight, but Lucius knows better, he knows Harry is going to fight, and I think, he's scared of what would happen when he does. Even Bellatrix quickly starts taking Harry more seriously:

“Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. “Very well, then —”

(OotP, Ch35)

And she changes her tone completely after he casts a Crucio at her:

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now.

(OotP, Ch36)

His aura is one of competence and confidence even when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing. Especially when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing.

And for the most part, he doesn't come off nearly as judgmental as he actually is, because he doesn't say a lot of what he thinks. We only see him start to actually speak his mind and be more sassy out loud around 5th and 6th year. And even then, his highly judgmental physical descriptions stay part of his narration, they aren't spoken:

“That’s the bell,” said Harry listlessly, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape’s dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes’ conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

(OotP, Ch12)

Ron and Hermione banter while Harry feels done with them, but he doesn't really say anything or complain. He keeps a lot of his thoughts inside his head.

If we look at how Ron, Hermione, and Sirius see Harry, they're the closest to who Harry actually is as these three know Harry best. (They're also more objective than Harry who looks down on himself)

After the book 5 conversation I mentioned above, Ron and Hermione are more aware of Harry's insecurities, but they find them silly. They see Harry as incredibly capable and skilled:

“Did he?” said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters.

(OotP, Ch35)

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

(DH, Ch9)

When danger comes, everyone's instantly following Harry's lead. Harry's the planner when the situation is dangerous, he calls the shots, not Hermione. Hermione and Ron look to Harry for a plan when things get tough, and Harry always figures something out. Now, we see Harry thinking he has no idea what to do:

He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(OotP, Ch35)

But Ron and Hermione don't. No one does. They just see Harry coming up with a plan to save them. Every time. They don't see him wracking his brain for a way to keep everyone alive.

Hermione never considers Harry stupid, not even in first year:

“I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!”

(PS, Ch16)

And Ron clearly doesn't expect stupid behavior from Harry. He's surprised and shocked when Harry does something he considers stupid:

“What the hell,” panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, “didn’t you take this thing off before you dived?”

(DH, 19)

Both Ron and Hermione trust Harry's opinion and they trust him to know what to do when shit hits the fan. When things are dangerous, both Ron and Hermione (and everyone else) turn to Harry to know what to do becouse that's the aura he has:

“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.” Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right,” she repeated.

(DH, Ch22)

Hermione agrees with Lupin's assessment here. Dumbledore did too, he's the one who told Kingsley and Remus to trust Harry's instincts. Harry doesn't give the impression he's messy and bumbling, quite the opposite. Yes, Harry and Hermione have their doubts, they don't agree with Harry on everything, especially when he has no evidence for his claim except his intuition. But, it's telling Harry can make claims based on gut feeling and Ron and Hermione ask him why he thinks that instead of just instantly rejecting the claims.

Like I mentioned above, he looks like he has his shit together even when he really doesn't. He's an expert in keeping a mask on and bottling up his feelings.

Sirius, also sees Harry as mature and capable for his age. It's why he's so insistent on telling him things while Molly wants to cuddle Harry:

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still—” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently.

(OotP, Ch5)

Between them, Sirius sees Harry more accurately. Harry is incredibly mature and capable and wants to be in the know. He'd be better off in the know. Sirius understands Harry's curiosity which Molly seems unaware of. Lupin also remarks on how Harry is going to find out things anyway, he's aware of how curious and determined Harry is. Sirius considers Harry capable even during PoA and GoF:

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you.

(GoF, Ch18)

Molly, on the other hand, never really sees Harry's capabilities. Molly only ever sees a polite, intelligent kid. In the early years at the Weasley, Harry barely talks to Molly and Arthur because he doesn't really know how to talk to them. So they talk to him, the other Weasleys talk around him, and he's polite in turn:

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —”

(CoS, Ch3)

Harry acts around most adults like this, especially when younger. It's clear he acted this way around his teachers too:

“You see what you expect to see, Severus,” said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child.”

(DH, Ch33)

Snape got it a bit different. Because Harry is defiant and sassy — it's how he responds to the Dursleys, and this is how he responds to threats he can't do anything about in general. Sass. It's why we see Harry do this with Umbridge, Snape, and Scrimgeour:

Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice. “Hmm, let’s think . . .” said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, “maybe Lord Voldemort?”

(OotP, Ch12)

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry stiffly. “Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

(HBP, Ch9)

“...You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!” “It’s time you earned it.” said Harry.

(DH, Ch7)

Harry appears confidant and arrogant not only to Snape but to Scrimgeour too (I think other students at Hogwarts see Harry as arrogant too. His demeanor can come off as arrogant if you don't know what he's thinking. It's why they could believe the Daily Prophet, it fit what they got to see). It's because he is rude and sassy when speaking his mind. It's because he acts more confident when he's terrified. It's because he's cold, distant, and uncaring towards most people and actively avoids talking to most.

And even that's mostly when he's older. In 4th year, he responds to Snape by glaring at him silently and wishing he could cast a Crucio at him:

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry is overall really quiet, which does create the impression of him being put together. More than he thinks of himself, for sure. It also adds to why many students feel as comfortable talking about him as they do because he feels distant to them. His quiet makes him feel mysterious, unknown, and far away. Like a symbol rather than a person.

Something I want to note, specifically with Umbridge, is this scene:

Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.

(OotP, Ch13)

Part of why Harry comes off as such a put-together badass is that he doesn't let others see his pain. He doesn't show he's in pain to others, especially when it's people he doesn't like. He acts though, constantly.

He hates crying in front of others becouse Harry does everything he can to not appear weak:

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.

(PoA, Ch12)

And it works, people see him as confident, and capable, and heroic. Most people don't see the struggle because Harry keeps bottling it in.

Even with Hermione, he tries not to let her see how upset he actually is. We know in his head, that he is devastated by his wand breaking, that he's mourning it like it was a dead loved one, but this is what he's willing to show Hermione:

“It was an accident,” said Harry mechanically. He felt empty, stunned. “We’ll—we’ll find a way to repair it.” [...] “Well,” he said, in a falsely matter-of-fact voice, “well, I’ll just borrow yours for now, then. While I keep watch.”

(DH, Ch17)

All this means, we, as the readers , see Harry's pain, his struggles, his vulnerability — but the other characters almost never do.

The only character who is consistently aware of Harry's struggles is Sirius who Harry confides his weaknesses to more than any other character:

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I’m —” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he’d talked in days

(GoF, Ch19)

Harry is so used to saying his fine and bearing his burdens in silence. It's what he does. It's what he did for years. Most characters think Harry is unshakable because that's how he acts.

Even when Harry tries to lie so Sirius won't worry, Sirius sees through it:

Nice try, Harry. I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts.

(GoF, Ch15)

As for his room and appearance, he is a little messy actually when he has the chance to be in seventh year:

Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit.

(DH, Ch2)

As in, his trunk is a bit of a mess. But this makes sense, I think. He allows himself to be messy when he doesn't have the Dursleys over his head. It's like a sort of freedom he didn't have before, so he indulges in it. I think the mess in his trunk is also a result of him actually living from it for 6 years, as he couldn't really leave everything at home with the Dursleys, could he? Still, his room and belongings are nowhere near as messy as Ron's.

As for his appearance, the only thing mentioned to be messy is his hair:

His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it

(PoA, Ch1)

But from other characters (including Hermione) thinking Harry's hot:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”

(HBP, Ch11)

We can conclude Harry's messy hair comes off as cool and attractive and not like a bird's nest.

We also see from Hermione and others that Harry looks scary. He is 5'11 by book 6 with an intimidating glare and that he looks like he can throw a punch, (and can definitely throw a punch when he wants to). So he has a physical intimidation factor when older:

“Well, it’s like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,” said Hermione impatiently, “and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn’t usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren’t they? The way some people can see them and some can’t! I wish I could.” “Do you?” Harry asked her quietly. She looked horrorstruck. “Oh Harry — I’m sorry — no, of course I don’t — that was a really stupid thing to say —”

(OotP, Ch21)

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

To summarise

Harry bottles up a lot of his emotions and tends to be quiet, this creates the often wrong impression he is confident and has his shit together.

He doesn't show pain and weakness to others and doesn't cry or show he's upset to basically anyone (except Sirius). This means basically no one sees his struggles or how depressed and traumatized Harry actually is. It even surprises Ron and Hermione in book 5.

He is defiant and rude to people he doesn't like, especially when scared, the result is that he appears like a very capable and confident badass especially when under pressure.

He can be intimidating with his glare alone and once he's older he is a physical presence. He's not someone who can disappear in a crowd post-book 5.

His rudeness oftentimes stays in his head except when someone really annoys him. This makes him appear defiant, but overall polite because he keeps most of his mean comments to himself.

When younger, he is very polite and quiet, especially toward adults. When he's older, he gets a little sassier (as in, he says some of his internal monologue out loud). But he is a polite, well-mannered kid for the most part.

The character who has a messy room, is a bit of a slob, has chicken scratch handwriting, and is lazy with schoolwork, is Ronald Weasley, who I love dearly, but these descriptions have nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with Ron.

The only unkempt thing about Harry's appearance is likely his Potter hair, which is more messy hot than messy bad (if all the girls' reactions are anything to go by).

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #asks #anonymous #harry james potter #my best boy hjp

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edi-storm · 1 year ago

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Connerkunt <3

(Please ignore how messy my handwriting is)

#they had vegan nightwings and redhood sauce #damian wayne #dc fanart #supersons #damian x jon #jondami #damian al ghul #dc superboy #jon kent #jonathan kent #superboy #robin dc #damijon #damijon fanart #batburger #nightwing #artists on tumblr #procreate #edistormart

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obeymeshallwedateaddict · 1 month ago

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heyyy!! HEAR ME OUT 🆘🆘 yk how kids spell santa wrong sometimes and they write satan. since christmas is coming wouldnt it be funny if satan got letters from human children??

Hiii. I'm absolutely obsessed over your request and I guess we're starting off the Christmas season in November? Anyway. I hope you enjoy this one.

Summary: Satan receiving letters addressed to him instead of Santa and dealing with them.

There isn't an MC in this story. (Forgot to add them) So we'll pretend this was before the exchange program

Masterlist

Santa-Satan?

Satan was having a peaceful afternoon in the living room, a rare moment of tranquility in the House of Lamentation. He sipped his tea and flipped a page of his latest novel when suddenly, with a poof, a small mountain of envelopes materialized on the coffee table.

Satan stared at the pile. "What is this? Who dares disrupt my reading?" He picked up one of the letters and squinted at the messy handwriting on the front:

"Dear Satan..."

His brow twitched. "Oh, no. Not again."

Lucifer strolled into the room, holding a cup of coffee. He took one look at the stack of letters and smirked. "Ah, the annual Santa-Satan debacle. Always a highlight of the season."

Satan slammed the letter on the desk. "This isn't funny, Lucifer! Why are human children incapable of spelling? Or using spell-check!" He held up an envelope. "This one just says, 'Dear Satan, I want a pony. Love, Jessica.' Do I look like someone who hands out ponies?!"

Lucifer arched a brow. "Well, you do have a soft spot for cats. Ponies aren’t much of a stretch."

Mammon burst in, munching on a cookie. "Oi, what's all the yellin' about? Ohhh, are those Christmas letters?!" He grabbed a random letter and read it aloud:

"Dear Satan, I've been VERY good this year. Can you please bring me a PS5 and a puppy? Thank you!"

Mammon snorted. "Heh, maybe you should deliver a PS5, Satan. It’d make you less cranky."

Satan glared. "Oh sure, Mammon. Let me just conjure a PlayStation out of thin air and hand-deliver it to this... Timmy." He sighed dramatically. "As if my reputation isn't tarnished enough, now children think I'm a knock-off Santa."

Leviathan poked his head into the room. "Wait, is this about the time you accidentally sent a hellhound to a kid instead of a golden retriever? That was classic!"

Satan groaned. "How was I supposed to know the summoning circle would work on a child’s drawing?!"

---

The letters soon became a family affair. Asmodeus had gathered a few to read, giggling over the cute handwriting. "Aw, this one says, 'Dear Satan, I want my big brother to stop being mean to me.' Isn’t that just precious?"

Mammon: "I think pretty much all of us want that don't we?"

Lucifer, giving Mammon the death stare while sipping from his cup: "What did you say, Mammon?"

Mammon mumbling: "Nothin"

Beelzebub, halfway through a pie, mumbled, "If they ask for food, I can help."

Belphegor yawned. "Why don’t you just ignore them? They’ll figure it out eventually."

Satan stormed in, clutching another letter. "This one asked me to make it snow on Christmas! Do they think I’m some sort of weather deity?! AND WHY IS THERE GLITTER IN THESE ENVELOPES?" He shook his hand, scattering sparkles everywhere.

---

Eventually, the brothers decided to "help" Satan deal with the letters.

Mammon: "I’ll handle the gifts. These kids want money, right? I can chuck some Grimm at them."

Satan: "They’re human children. They don’t use Grimm!"

Leviathan: "What if we send them anime merch? Everyone loves anime!"

Asmodeus: "Or beauty kits! They’ll thank you later."

Satan pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is a disaster."

Lucifer finally intervened, adjusting his gloves with a sigh. "Enough. Clearly, Satan can’t handle this alone. I’ll take care of the mix-up, like always."

Satan glared. "Excuse me, I can handle it. I just don’t want to."

Lucifer smirked. "Of course you don’t."

---

By the end of the week, Satan managed to write curt but polite replies:

"Dear Jessica, I don’t do ponies. Try spelling ‘Santa’ correctly next time. Best, Satan."

Meanwhile, Lucifer, dressed in a suspiciously festive red coat, handled the logistics of redirecting the letters.

As the chaos died down, Satan finally returned to his book—only for another poof of letters to appear.

Satan: "...I’m moving to the Celestial Realm."

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nhularin · 1 year ago

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you dont even know my name do ya?

PAIRING uni student! jake x barista! reader GENRE fluff, strangers to lovers, whipped jake WARNINGS not proofread OTHER just me, a barista, being absolutely delulu with jake WC 0.7k

series masterlist PERM TAGLIST @avocarua @misokei

February 26, 1998

jake found himself in the busy yet strangely comforting café near campus. It was a place where he could focus on his studies (well, technically he wasnt studying, just looking at his screen trying to look as smart as his friend heeseung, without distractions. and it didn't hurt that you, the cute barista had quickly become a highlight of his visits. he didnt know your name, but it didnt stop him from spending hours at that crammed coffee shop just to admire your form. jay told him to just stop being a weirdo and drop his unrequited admiration, which he just ignored

But wait a minute while I make you mine, make you mine

you were vibrant and kind, always greeting him with a warm smile as he ordered his usual drink ( a taro milk tea with peach bubbles and cheese foam). he'd admire you from afar, secretly harboring a crush that seemed to grow with each passing day. But he didn't have the courage to tell you how he felt, fearing rejection or making things awkward. he didnt want you to think that hes a weirdo, or worse, like sunghoon.

every day, he would visit the shop, hoping for a chance to exchange a few words with you, mostly talking aboit his annoying professor and you questioning his choice of beverage. he would spend hours at a table, pretending to work on his assignments while secretly stealing glances at you. just hearing your name leave your coworkers lips makes him feel giddy

I'm all nervous 'cause you're on my mind all the time

on a seemingly mundane monday, he entered the café, his mind preoccupied with you instead of his upcoming biology exam. as he approached the counter, his heart skipped a beat. there you stood, smiling at him and beautiful as ever with your cute green apron draped around your frame. he couldnt stop the scenarios of you two cooking together in his apartment form in his head

"hello my friend! the usual again?" you have asked, shaking your head with that intoxicating smile "you know, you should start drinking something else, its going to mess up your bowls. we dont want the fiasco from last week repeating, do we?"

all jake could do was lower his head in embarrassment. he remembered telling you about how he shat his pants in the middle of his anatomy exam, excusing himself to the restroom where he found brown spots coating his jeans.

"yeah i think thats a great idea" he muttered out with faux confidence, good job jaeyun "just give me whatever you like. i know you have great taste" (in men, please date me)

I'm usually pretty talkative, what's wrong with me?

after he paid for his drink and definitely overpriced sandwich, he made his way to his regular table by the window, where he could peacefully enjoy his meal and fantasize about you without any disturbance.

but he noticed something different. there, written in a messy yet delicate handwriting, was your name and number. his eyes widened with surprise, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding in his veins. he gazed at the cup for what seems like hours, a chaotic mess of thoughts swirling in his mind. could this be an accident? was this meant for someone else? he was going to kill that lucky asshole if it was. or was it a genuine invitation? were you flirting with him? THE yn?

"hey stranger! i know we dont really know each other but i'd love to invite you for a drink outside of this shop <3 here's my number, i hope it doesnt sound weird :( +82-XXX-XXX-XXX

ps: please start studying instead of just gazing into the distance"

a smile spread across jakes face, and a surge of joy filled his heart. he took a deep breath, his whole body trembling with excitement and nerves. with a mix of determination and hope, he quickly pulled out his phone and saved your number 'ynie <3'

oh how jay was wrong

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mybutcheredtongue · 9 months ago

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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius x fem!reader

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (see full series list here)

1993

"Alright, guys, have a good evening," you say to your fourth-years as they pick up their bags and start to head for the exit. You've just started to pack up your own things and head down to your room when there's a voice behind you.

"Uh, Professor?"

You turn, finding Harry standing there. You smile and nod at him and he pulls a scrap of parchment out of his pocket, holding it out to you.

He glances at his classmates leaving, some of which look back at him curiously. "One of the other teachers told me to give this to you."

That's odd. Usually the teachers would just send it themselves.

You take it anyway. "Thanks, Harry. Have a good night."

He leaves, catching up Ron and Hermione who had been waiting for him, and you lean back against your desk, unfolding the parchment.

Your heart leaps when you recognise the messy, sprawled handwriting.

My love,

I'm flying north immediately. Harry told me about his scar, I presume he told you too, and I have heard far too many strange rumours to ignore it. I need to talk to you and Harry.

I miss you so much it hurts. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of you. Please stay safe and I'll be in touch soon. Remember how much I love you.

Yours,

Sirius

What about Harry's scar? He didn't tell you anything. So much for your whole getting-your godson-to-trust-and-confide-in-you plan.

You can practically hear Sirius' voice dripping from the page. The letter is short and looks rushed, he must've been in quite a hurry. Your stomach constricts with worry — he's completely putting himself in danger by coming here.

Whatever Harry told him, it clearly worried Sirius. Worried him enough to risk his safety to come north just to speak to Harry. And to you, too.

You ought to ask Harry what this is all about.

You read over the letter a few more times, a smile on your face, before you tidy up and start down the stairs, heading for bed.

The next morning, you wake bright and early, hoping to catch Harry at morning breakfast. To your luck, you do. He's sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione. As you approach, you notice him having heated words with Hermione, but they suddenly stop when they see you.

"Morning," you greet. "Harry, can I speak to you when you're finished? If you have time before your first class, of course."

He nods, immediately standing up, exchanging wary glances with his friends.

"You're not in trouble, Harry. You look like you're expecting me to expel you or something," you reassure with a chuckle and he loosens up slightly, following you out of the Hall. You lead him down the corridor until you find one that's empty and where you won't be heard.

Involuntarily, your eyes flick up to Harry's scar, and he notices, pulling his hair down to cover it up.

You sigh, lowering your voice. "Harry, that letter you gave me last night...Sirius said he's coming north because of something to do with your scar. What happened?"

Harry glances away from you, shrugging, before putting on an awkward smile. "Oh, it was nothing, really. I just, er, imagined it was hurting...bit stupid now, to be honest."

Your eyes widen. "Your scar was hurting?"

"Like I said, I imagined it — "

"An unlikely thing to imagine, Harry," you tut, unimpressed. You think for a moment, racking your brains as to what could have possibly caused a scar to be painful. "And it was just out of the blue? There was nothing that could have caused it?"

Harry blinks at you.

"Yup, very random."

He's lying. It's as plain to you as the nose on his face. "I'm not that thick, Harry, I can tell you're lying."

His eyes widen, like he didn't expect you to call him out on his lie and he raises his hands up in defense. "Honestly, you don't have to worry about me. And Sirius doesn't have to either, it's nothing really. Honest."

You just sigh, shaking your head and shrugging. "I'll worry about you regardless, Harry, for as long as you have to go to Professor Snape's classes. And, y'know, 'cause it's my job. Sirius and I will always worry about you." You shuffle on your feet, thinking of what you should do. "But...if you're really that unwilling to tell me, I'll let you off. Just — just tell me everything you hear from him, won't you? Who knows what that fool will do next..."

Harry chuckles, nodding.

"Alright, off you go. Time for class," you say, glancing down at your watch. You pat his shoulder and he hurries off back to the Hall to find Ron and Hermione.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You find yourself standing outside the castle, watching as students file down into the courtyard in single-file lines. Minerva leads her Gryffindors, throwing orders out left, right and centre.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," she barks at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati Patil scowls and removes a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. Aw. You thought it was pretty.

All the students are shivering, shifting from foot to foot in anticipation as they await the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Minerva makes her way over to you, still casting a watchful eye over her house.

"I wish they would hurry up," she says quietly to you. "I fear Colin Creevey will not be able to stay still for too much longer."

You glance past her at Colin, who is practically shaking with excitement. He keeps glancing back at Harry behind him, grinning widely. Colin is quite a sweet lad, actually. He's very keen to learn and you like that about him. He's very enthusiastic in your class, even if he does have trouble discerning between Astronomy and Astrology.

"I share his excitement, honestly," you reply. "Who knows what we're in for?"

Down the line, Dumbledore speaks up. “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

Many students ask 'Where?', eagerly scouring the area for any sign of the French school's arrival.

"There!"

Something large hurtles through the dark sky towards the castle, growing bigger as it gets closer.

"It's a dragon!" One first-year student, Melanie Mills, yells. She looks to have completely lost it.

"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" Dennis Creevey cries.

You share a look with Minerva, returning your gaze to the approaching shape. To your surprise, Dennis isn't actually that far off. You see a giant, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring towards you. It's pulled by a dozen majestic, winged horses, beating their wings as they glide through the air.

The enormous horses skid to a stop right in front of the first-years, who all rear back skittishly. The door to the grand carriage opens and a boy in pale blue robes jumps down from the carriage, bends forward and fumbles with something for a moment on the carriage floor before unfolding a set of gold steps.

You watch in shock as the largest woman you've ever seen steps out of the carriage. She's so tall all thoughts in your head genuinely just melt into pure shock. Bloody hell, she looks bigger than Hagrid. She's dressed from head to toe in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleam at her throat and on her large fingers. She's quite beautiful, but you just can't get over the sheer fact that she's about three times your height.

Dumbledore starts to clap loudly, and the students follow his lead. You clap, open-mouthed as you continue to stare at this incredible woman. Minerva elbows you and jolts you out of your stupor.

A graceful smile settles on the woman's face as she walks forward towards Dumbledore, extending a bejewelled hand out to him. Dumbledore barely has to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he says. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime says. "I hope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," he replies.

“My pupils,” says Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

You now notice about a dozen boys and girls, all looking to be in their late teens, emerging from the carriage and moving to stand behind Madame Maxime. They're shivering, dressed only in their fine silk robes and without any cloaks. They stare up at Hogwarts with apprehensive expressions, glancing around at the students curiously.

"'Has Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asks.

"He should be here any moment," says Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," says Madame Maxime. "But the horses — "

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," says Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges."

You're sure that means Hagrid's current muse: blast-ended skrewts. Nasty buggers, they are. You're glad you're not a student taking that class.

"My steeds require — er — forceful handling," Madame Maxime tells him, looking as though she doubts whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "They are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," says Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well. "Madame Maxime bows slightly. "Will you please inform this Hagrid that the horses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," assures Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," Madame Maxime says imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parts to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

The students continue to stand in waiting, their teeth chattering with the cold. Quiet murmurs sweep through the group and Madame Maxime's horses snort and stamp at the ground.

"How long are we gonna have to wait?" Sprout says from your left. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

"Don't say that to Madame Maxime," you mutter quietly and Sprout chuckles.

Then, you hear a distant rumbling and rippling of water.

"The lake!" Lee Jordan yells. "Look at it!"

The Black Lake, usually calm and serene, seems far from it at this moment in time. Some disturbance is taking place deep inside. Bubbles form at the surface, waves crash onto the muddy banks, and you squint as a small whirlpool begins to form in its centre...

Slowly, magnificently, a ship rises out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. You're impressed at the sheer size of the ship, which has an interesting...skeletal look about it. It's misty and dim, looking like it was just plucked from a silent crypt.

The ship nears the bank, and with a great thud a plank is thrown down onto the ground. People start disembarking, and you notice that as they get closer and closer, they appear to be wearing heavy coats of some kind of matted fur. The man who leads them is wearing a different fur cloak to the rest, this one is far more sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he calls heartily as he walks up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replies.

Karkaroff is quite a tall and thin man, not unlike Dumbledore, with short white hair and a goatee that ends in a twisted curl. When he reaches Dumbledore, he reaches out and shakes his hand with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he says, looking up at the castle and smiling. It's not a true smile, you notice, it doesn't reach his eyes. It's dishonest. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold."

A young man steps forward towards Karkaroff, and when the light from the castle windows hit him you realise that it's none other than Viktor Krum, the Quidditch player. Several of the students let out gasps as the sight of him. Ron looks like he's about to faint.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Time passes and the Goblet of Fire has been left in the Great Hall, where occasionally, someone puts their name forward for the Triwizard Tournament — among them Fred and George Weasley, of course, who decided to employ a cheap Ageing Potion to swindle the Age Line. It did not work out as they planned. They ended up in the hospital wing with two long, silvery beards sprouting from their chins.

Sirius would have loved this. All the excitement and bravado of the Tournament, everything about it. You can picture himself and James putting their names into the goblet, walking away with smug smirks.

You miss him. You miss him so much. Every day you worry about him, hoping that he hasn't gotten himself killed since you last heard from him. It's tough.

One night you can't sleep, mind rampant with thoughts of Sirius, so you go up the Tower to sit and watch the stars like you usually do. To your disappointment, it's too cloudy of a night for you to see much and you decide to just go for a walk around the castle instead. Dubh joins you, jumping into your arms and clinging to your shirt, purring contentedly.

It's perfectly quiet in the empty corridors, silent but for the soft echo of your slippers sliding over the stone. The paintings are all still and sleeping. Some of them are snoring. You know this castle like the back of your hand. At this point, you probably know it better than your own home. You've spent so many days here, countless times have you passed through these same hallways, at all times of the day.

You stroke Dubh's head lovingly, gently scratching behind her ears. You'd be lost without her, really. She's the best company you could ask for.

You near the Great Hall and that's when you hear a muffled bang. You stop walking immediately, furrowing your brows and trying to listen for more. Perhaps it was just your imagination.

Bang!

No, you definitely heard it that time. It's quiet, but not quiet enough, and it's coming from the Hall. Your heart starts to beat a little faster, and you pull your wand from your pocket, edging closer to the double doors of the Great Hall. You slowly, apprehensively pull one open just a crack, and slip into the Hall.

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

Moody is approaching your end of the Hall, and when he looks up and sees you he stops dead in his tracks, good eye wide.

"Sir?" You say in confusion.

He doesn't respond.

"Is, uh, is everything alright? I heard noises..."

He grinds his teeth. "No, no. It's fine. What are you doing down here?"

You shrug. "I couldn't sleep, wanted to go for a walk. Why are you down here?"

"None of your business, girl," he snaps quickly, barely letting you finish your sentence before he's jumped in.

You swallow, glancing away from him, petting Dubh anxiously. "Right, yeah, okay."

He clunks his way over to you, and you brace yourself as he passes, glass eye fixed on you. Dubh hisses at him and you just worry that'll anger him even more.

It's not long before he's left the Hall and you're still standing there, confused.

What the hell is going on?

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You sit, once again, in the Great Hall. It's Halloween, so pumpkins and enchanted bats bob high in the room. Every student is watching the goblet closely, hoping it'll do something soon.

You glance down the staff table. You see Snape, who gives you a dirty look when he catches you and you scoff; Hagrid, who is eagerly chatting with Madame Maxime; Ludo Bagman, who is currently caught up in conversation with Minerva beside you; and Crouch, who could not look more uninterested and bored. What a lovely chap.

"Well, the goblet is ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announces, and several students look to each other excitedly. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicates the door behind your table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He takes out his wand, quenching every candle in the room but for the ones in the pumpkins, plunging the Hall into semi-darkness. The mesmerising blue flame of the Goblet of Fire danced and captured everyone's attention, waiting with bated breath for its decision.

Any second now, you think.

You spotted Angelina Johnson putting her name in not too long ago, you hope it's her. Such a lovely girl. You'd heard too that Cedric Diggory also put his name in, and while you think he's also a great fit for Hogwarts champion, you'd like to see a woman lift that cup this year. A Gryffindor, too, that'd be nice.

Suddenly, the flame turns red and sparks begin to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shoots into the air and a piece of parchment flutters out of it. Everyone gasps.

Dumbledore deftly catches the piece of parchment. "The champion for Durmstrang..." he booms slowly, "will be Viktor Krum."

Loud cheering and applause sweeps through the Hall as Viktor Krum stands from the Slytherin table and approaches the staff table, passing down it.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff booms loudly, clapping heartily and grinning at his student. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and cheering dies down again and you return your focus to the goblet, its flames glowing red once more. Before you can even register it, a second piece of parchment fires into the air, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons..." Dumbledore reads, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Fleur Delacour's face is bright and full of smiles as she excitedly heads up past your table to the raucous applause from the room, before she too disappears into the side chamber with Viktor Krum.

Silence falls and you can feel the added tension of this one: Hogwarts next. You don't even notice the way you lean further into the table, tapping your foot in anticipation as the Goblet of Fire finally turns red again, spitting out the last scrap of parchment into Dumbledore's waiting hands.

"The Hogwarts champion...is Cedric Diggory!"

This time, the applause is by far the loudest. Each and every Hufflepuff gets to their feet, clapping and cheering loudly as Cedric Diggory makes his way past them, grinning broadly. You clap enthusiastically and smile encouragingly at him as he passes you, following the other two champions into the chamber.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore calls happily as at last the celebration dies down. "Well, now we have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real — "

Dumbledore suddenly stops speaking, and you crane your neck to look and see what's stopped him.

The fire in the Goblet has turned red again. Sparks are flying out of it. A long flame suddenly shoots into the air, spitting out yet another piece of parchment.

As if automatically, Dumbledore reached out his hand to seize the parchment. He holds it out and stares at it, his expression unreadable. You stare at Dumbledore, wondering what's going on, but his face reveals absolutely nothing as he continues to study the parchment like there's some sort of unbreakable code written upon it.

He clears his throat.

"Harry Potter."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter nineteen here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

hello lovelies! I am so so sorry that this chapter took so long to get out, I actually changed it several times 😭 sometimes I forget that this IS a Sirius fic, and that everyone reading this has most likely seen the movies/read the books before and I don't need to write every scene straight from the book that doesn't directly affect the reader! anyways. sorry for my little rant, I love you all so much and thank you for your patience 🫶🫶

hugs and kisses for my amazing taglist loves: @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe00diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335

#sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #harry potter #the marauders #angst with a happy ending #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #hp #marauders era #marauders #sirius orion black

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elliespassagerprincess · 1 year ago

Note

wait I’m so curious to the angst fic you wrote to in my feelings - ldr :0 cuz I would’ve never interpret it into an angst fic! Do you think you can publish that one too? No pressure! 💕

In my feelings - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon, here she is! I hope you enjoy <3

This story is based off the song in my feelings by Lana Del Rey, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:) This was originally a smut fic. You can read it here, but this wonder anon requested a angst edition, so yes.

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are always open, feel free to leave one:)

Warnings: toxic situationship

Summary: In which you fell for a loser

Authors note: i know I've not been that active and I'm so sorry. Life has just been busy, i have to write exams, i have a surgery on Thursday so it's been tense lmao, but I'm trying. Please be patient with me <3

I'm smoking while I'm runnin' on my treadmill

But I'm cutting up roses

Could it be that I fell for another loser

I'm crying while I'm cummin'

Making love while I'm making good money

Sobbin' in my cup of coffee

'Cause I fell for another loser

"Could it be that I fell for another loser?" You asked Dina as the cigarette smoke left your plush lips.

You heard Dina snort beside you.

"probably, she looks like she could be one, and she treats you like shit" she shrugged"

you shook your head at her honesty.

It's embarrassing honestly. You truly did have a type for losers.

People who couldn't make eye contact with you. People who would fold as soon as you gave them your pretty smile. You had the control, but yet anything you had with these people weren't real love. It was purely lust. It was fun.

You liked being in control, you liked breaking them.

But with Ellie it was different.

You met Ellie at a gym.

She caught you eye immediately. She was perfect. Her autumn brown hair tied in a tight ponytail, she was wearing pink leggings with a matching sports bra. The sweat on her forehead glistening under the light of the gym.

If god was real this pretty girl would be in your bed by the end of the night

You ran on the treadmill for a while, trying to ignore the pretty girls eyes. You saw her watching you though the mirror. You felt her eyes trail down your body.

Maybe she wanted you like you wanted her.

After a while you tried leaving the gym, you lit a cigarette as you walked out, your bag hung on your shoulder.

"Hi"

you flinched at the strange voice.

Oh. It was her.

Pink tight girl.

"Hey" you responded.

You saw her gaze fall to the floor as she shyly muttered "I'm Ellie"

What a fucking loser. She couldn't even look at you.

You loved her already.

You gave her your name, and you listened as it fell from her tongue multiple time. She was testing the was your name tasted on her tongue and she loved it.

"Those are bad for you" she pointed out you shrugged

"it makes me look hot, doesn't it?" Was all you said as you took another puff, throwing your head back as the smoke filled the air.

You felt her eyes on you, and you heard her audibly gulp.

"Doesn't it Ellie?" you persisted

"yeah- yeah it does"

you gave her a smile, and before you waved goodbye she handed you a paper. With a raised eyebrow you opened it and in a messy handwriting was her number.

You looked at her and she looked away, she couldn't make eye contact with you.

All you could do was smirk, they were always so fucking easy to make nervous.

"I'll call you" you winked.

Now here you stood 5 weeks later, sobbing into a cup of coffee because you fell for a fucking loser.

Get that cigarette smoke out of my face

You've been wasting my time

While you're taking what's mine, with the things that you're doing

Talk that talk, well now they all know your name

And there's no coming back from the place that you came

Baby don't do it

you don't know what happened with Ellie.

The girl you called a loser once, the girl who fell to her knees when you smiled is suddenly a cold hearted person.

"Get that cigarette smoke out of my face" Ellie huffed as she sat across you.

You rolled your eyes before you put the cigarette out.

"Ellie calm down so we can talk"

"talk about what? You're wasting my time with this"

your jaw dropped at her words.

'What a fucking bitch' you thought to yourself.

"I'm wasting your fucking time? Ellie don't make me mad because I will fucking slap you"

she looked taken aback at your harsh words, her cheeks tined in a pink color.

Her eyes fell to the floor, and for a second you saw her.

Your Ellie.

The loser you fell for.

But she suddenly got up muttering "I will not be disrespected by someone like you", and she walked out of your apartment. The door slammed and you were left alone.

The silence was so loud.

There was no coming back from this.

The more time you spent with Ellie, the more you discovered about her. She used to be so sweet.

You remembered your first date, she couldn't even hold your hand and she constantly apologized for everything.

She was a fucking loser.

But one day someone said that Ellie was out of your league. You knew she was. Some like Ellie deserved someone better, but yet you thought she fell for you.

That day changed everything. Ellie's eyes widened at the person's comment and she was quieter than usual that day.

The next time you saw her, she was a whole new person. Her entire persona changed. Her hair, makeup, style, even the way she fucking walked changed.

You were happy that she had confidence, but you found out she was seeing other people behind your back.

Despite never being official it hurt.

You knew Ellie could talk to whoever she wanted to, but you thought you had something special.

One night when Ellie was sleeping over, you asked her the question.

"What are we?"

she never replied.

Every fucking time you brought it up, she always walked away.

What a fucking loser. What a fucking pussy.

Even today, you invited her over to talk. To see if she liked you. You needed closure because truthfully you fell for the autumn brown headed girl.

You just had to make sure.

And to hear her say that you were wasting her time was fucking sick.

She was wasting yours with her games.

And here you thought you had actually met a loser worth your time.

'Cause you got me in my feelings (catch you, it's so much right now)

Talking in my sleep again (you can whistle if you want)

Drown out all our screaming (catch you, it's so much right now)

Who's tougher than this bitch

Who's free-er than me

You wanna make the switch

Be my guest baby

I'm feeling all my fucking feelings

you wish you could sleep right now. You were tired, and you didn't have any energy for bullshit.

Ellie's rant had begun after she spotted you and Dina getting lunch earlier.

Wow so you can't breathe the air of another girl but she can fuck someone else? That's wonderful logic!

But you sat here listening to Ellie yelling at you for some reason.

You wish you could drown put her screaming.

"Ellie can you just shut the fuck up!" you yelled.

You had enough of her mixed signals. You had enough of her practically cheating on you. You were tired.

"How dare you talk to me like that-" but before Ellie could end up yelling again you got up, pushing her against the wall.

"How dare I? How dare you! You fucking lead me on for weeks, then you freak out when I hang out with another girl! Ellie you are really fucking stupid" you said though heavy breathes.

Ellie stared at you with wide eyes.

There she is.

The girl you thought you had a chance with.

You took a step back, shaking your head and chuckling.

"You really are a fucking loser, how could I fall for someone like you?" You asked yourself.

Ellie heard.

She got up walking to you, she placed her hands on your shoulders "i-i like you. A lot. I just didn't know how to express myself- and- you made me so nervous so I thought I could make you j-jealous"

you shrugged her hands off your shoulders and you took another step back.

"That's not how relationships work Ellie, you ruined this yourself"

"Please listen-"

"get the fuck out"

Ellie sighed before she got up. She was on her way to the door, and she looked back at you for the last time.

"smoking is bad for you" she said with a sad smile.

You chucked at her words before responding "it makes me look hot doesn't it?"

"It really does"

you watched as Ellie walk out the door, you lit another cigarette.

As the smoke filled the air, like it has countless times before. you let out a sigh at the realization: you fell in love with another loser.

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miffy-junot · 9 days ago

Text

some junot doodles I made during a whiteboard session with my bestie @apurpledust <333333

(please ignore my messy handwriting)

#my art #<3 #jean andoche junot #napoleonic era

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gavisuntiedboot · 2 years ago

Note

OMG WE'RE BDAY TWINS

Going to use this beautiful user's ask to upload a cute little birthday themed one shot! Happy birthday to you as well twin, and everyone else born during gemini szn <3 (so this is set as a summer birthday - apologizes to all my cold weather kids - pretend global warming took full effect and it's sunny on your birthday).

~*Boot Birthday Special*~

"Sir, I don't think that many candles will fit on one cupcake."

Gavi looked up from his phone and his eyes met with that of the poor teenager working behind the counter of the quaint little bakery in the plaza. It was a gorgeous day, the sun beaming down on the pale bricks and multicolored tile, painting the walls with sprinkles of gold. You were currently out with your friends, glasses of orange juice clinking the soundtrack of your early birthday brunch. Despite the day being about 11 hours away, Pablo's declaration that your birthday was his meant you needed to celebrate with everyone else at alternate times. So while you laughed and basked in light and friendship, Gavi stood at the front of a busy bakery using whatever geometry he possessed to see how many candles would look good on the delicate cupcake before him.

"I mean that's how old my girlfriend is turning. I can't just... change the number?" Pablo asked, nervous hands tugging on the hood covering his face despite the heat. A pink slip peaked out of his hoodie, the details of the real cake he had ordered for you written in scraggly blue ink. The girl at the counter, 15 at most, studied Gavi's features, trying to remember where she had seen these anxious features before. She glanced at the growing line, and turned back to Pablo's hoodie-shrouded form.

"Can I see what you ordered for her? On the full size cake?" She asked, smiling sweetly and extending her hand, gesturing for the form. Her eyes swept over her sister's messy handwriting, recognizing the request.

"This is one of our more vintage piped cakes. Very aesthetically pleasing. If this is something your girlfriend would like, then you should get one of these and put it in the middle of the cupcake. It seems like it would fit her vibe." Turning around, she lifted a large glass jar from the shelf behind her, filled with beautiful swirly candles in a variety of pastel colors. "That top one matches the color of the frosting." Pablo picked out the candle carefully, handing it to the girl to place in the bag. He thanked her profusely while she ran his credit card.

"I'm kind of nervous, if you can't tell. This is the first time I've celebrated a girl's birthday besides my sister so I want everything to look good." She laughed lightly back at him, returning the card. "Of course, happy to help. Can I ask for something, though?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Do you need a signature for the receipt?"

"Signature yes, receipt no. Could you sign one of our boxes and take a picture with it? We're pretty small and family-owned, and it would bring in a lot of business to the shop."

Gavi's eyebrows perked up. He had had this request before from friends of his such as his barber, but he never expected to get it from just a local cake shop. "Yeah, of course." After taking the picture in the back of the shop, the delicately picked up the pale yellow bag, bidding goodbye to the staff and telling them they would get to meet his girlfriend tomorrow when he picked up his cake. Getting into his car (yes ladies, he can drive now), he checked his messages, ignoring all of them except the one from princesa <3 xoxo, which was a picture of you in red lipstick and a sparkly tiara that read birthday girl in rhinestones. Smiling from ear to ear, he made his way home to wrap the rest of your presents and protect your cupcake from the rays of the Spanish sun.

"Pablo? I'm home!"

Your voice bounced off the ceramic on the walls, echoing down the hallway as you slipped off your heels. The plethora of paper gift bags were placed on the counter as you searched for your fireball of a boyfriend, who you heard before you saw.

"Bebe!'' A yell came, followed by thunderous footsteps from your bedroom to where you stood in the entryway, strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground in a tight hug. Giggling gently, your arms circled his neck and lips pressed to the top of his head, gentle kisses conveying how much you had missed him throughout the day.

"Enjoy going out with the girls?" He asked while returning you to earth.

"Oh, so much! They took me to this great spot that had the best pastries. That crème brulee concha was probably the best thing I've ever put in my mouth."

"Is it now? Well-"

"Ew Pablo shut up! I mean food." Giggles continued to shake your body as you pushed him away, failing as he kept you pressed against him. He pressed exaggerated kisses to your warming cheeks, the sound of your laughter swimming through his veins and causing him to float an inch above the ground.

"I missed you today, amor." You said, head rolling to one side to expose you neck to Pablo, allowing him more space to pepper gentle kisses along your skin.

"We were only apart for a couple hours." He replied, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed in your scent, a couple spritzes of Chanel mixed with that special something that only you possessed.

"I know, I know but when I was celebrating with everyone today, I couldn't help but think, 'damn, I wish Pablo was here.'" You turned around in his arms, pressing your forehead against his and looking deeply in those beautiful brown eyes.

"You're genuinely one of my best friends, and I just... always want to be this close to you. Wherever I go, I want you to come with me."

Pablo brought both of his hands to cup your face, pulling you closer to gently kiss your forehead, before gently kissing your lips. It was so innocent, almost like it was the first time the two of you had ever kissed. Like you were an angel who would ascend if he applied too much force.

"I'll always go where you go, princesa. Forever." A beat passed with the two of you just gazing at each other lovingly The digital clocked displayed that it was 11:02pm, and Gavi dragged you into your shared bedroom, giving you a pale blue shopping bag.

"Get in the shower and put this on. Quickly, before you age." He flashed his gorgeous smile as you pushed him out, locking the door behind him. After washing away the excitement of the day, you walked cautiously towards the bag on the bed. You reached in, fingers feeling luxuriously smooth fabric. You pulled the contents out to reveal a gorgeous silk night gown, fabric printed with an array of flowers, a golden crown embroidered on the top left. Your face lit up, stunned by the beauty of the garment. A blue tag hung off the nightgown, careful handwriting spelling out, 'Fit for royalty'.

You walked down the stairs, the lights switched off, and a dull yellow glow emitting from the living room. You walked in to a room covered in glowing candles, Pablo in the center, with a pink box tied in a bow. Hearing your steps, his head turned to you, and his jaw went slack. His eyes trailed up the length of your body, admiring the way the soft fabric hugged your hips and framed your form beautifully, like a renaissance painting in the flesh. Your bare face, still fresh from the shower, took his breath away. The words died on his lips. He knew it was stupid to say out loud, but he knew that he had never laid eyes on something so stunning. He had never looked at something with so much love. He had never wanted to be this close with someone, and was certain that he would never feel this way about anyone else. He was so irreparably in love with you, and he had never felt better.

You walked over, arms wrapping around your form to deflect Gavi's intense stare. You had rarely worn sexy things in front of Gavi for prolonged periods of time, and were not used to the admiration. You moved towards him, sitting across from him on the plush rug.

"Princesa, we have all this furniture and you're sitting on the floor?" He asked with a light laugh.

Grabbing his hand, you laced your fingers with his. "I wanted you to be able to see this beautiful present up close. And plus, this is our house. We can make our own rules."

He moved his free hand up to your shoulder, tracing it down the fabric, mapping the planes of your body. His eyes meet yours again, and the love they're swimming in hits you like a ton of bricks. He loves you. Pablo Gavi loves you as much as you love him. Separating from you, he turns around, and you hear a match light and smell smoke faintly. He turns back around, placing a plate before you, with one perfectly piped cupcake and a beautiful candle. Your eyes began to water, and you looked at your lover.

"Pablo, it's so beautiful."

"Wait, I almost forgot." He pushed the wrapped present towards you., It was now 11:58pm, and he urged you to hurry.

"So you can use it on your birthday." Your fingers pulled at the plush velvet ribbon, removing the lid and moving the matching paper out of the way. You reached in and pulled out a beautiful vintage polaroid camera.

"Pablo! You shouldn't have - this probably cost a fortune!"

His laugh echoed through the empty room. "That's actually one of your cheaper gifts. Hurry, bring it here so I can take a picture of you and your cupcake."

"One of?" You asked, bewildered as you slid your camera over.

"Yes darling. You're my princesa, and I'm going to treat you like one."

You went through 8 sheets of film on your birthday. The first was one Pablo had captured of you blowing out your candle, your nightgown giving off an ethereal sheen. The next was a selfie of you and and Pablo, both smiling from ear to ear after passionate thank you's for the presents. The third was a candid Gavi had taken, your sleeping form with your hair splayed across the pillow. 4 and 5 were dolled up pictures of you in your birthday dress, looking and feeling like a million bucks, not just because of the clothes, but because of the way Pablo was making you feel. 6 was a picture of a little blue bag with 'Tiffany & Co.' in black print, and a silver pendant with a cursive G engraved into it. Number 7 had been gifted to the girl at the bakery who had helped Gavi, showing a picture of the two of you sitting behind your magnificently piped birthday cake, the ruffles and swirls dulled by the grainy nature of the photo. And finally, number 8 was the one you kept by your bed. It was taken by that same bakery girl, and showed you kissing Pablo on the cheek, his smile bright as he looked at your birthday cake, and a silver spot of light glimmering on your neck. In pink sharpie, you put the date, and in your best cursive you captioned the picture,

'my lover'

~~~

Hey everyone! THANK YOU SM TO EVERYONE WHO SENT ME BIRTHDAY MESSAGES!!! I SAW ALL OF THEM AND HAVEN'T BE ABLE TO REPLY BECAUSE I HAVEN'T BEEN ON MY LAPTOP AND THEY DON'T SHOW PROPERLY ON MY PHONE! Back after a long while to post a little birthday special in light of me turning 22! It's based on, funnily enough, the events of my actual birthday, and a certain Taylor Swift song that I heard live. I hope you all enjoy, and can't wait to write more stuff for you guys!! (I can't believe it's almost 4am jet lag is kicking my ass).

#gavisuntiedboot #gavisuntiedbootasks #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi #gavi x reader #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #gavi fluff #gavi one shot #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi one shot

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