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lgtinterrupted · 2 days ago

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Vehemence.

Chapter One.

Mature - Dark Romance Severus Snape x Female Student Reader Words: 3k Previous ; Next (Coming Soon) Chapter Warnings: Language, Smoking/Referenced Drug Use MDNI, 18+, Mature Audiences Only

Notes: Welcome to Chapter One of "Vehemence", though this chapter is introduction and establishment, I hope for all my readers to see the potential in this story . . . and buckle up for what I have planned. Love you all ꨄ

I was sure that Professor Snape had never missed a day from teaching in the seven years I had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, despite my hoping as I stealthily slipped in through the dungeons door. Quite possibly, I considered, he had never missed a day since he started teaching all together. I didn’t specifically despise potions class, not as much as I did Herbology at least, despite my immense dislike for the potions teacher himself, Professor Snape, the “Hogwarts Sadist”, the student body had so fondly named him.

Make no mistake, I wasn’t a poor student…when I tried, I simply just lacked the motivation to try, increasingly so as my time at Hogwarts neared the end. I had deemed this effect, “Seventh Year Syndrome”, to which I was not the first known infected at Hogwarts, but perhaps the most advanced in my symptoms.

Besides, my passing-period smoke breaks in the astronomy tower held a lot more importance in my book, which I had regrettably missed today, due to the couple of Hufflepuffs who discovered my spot and deemed it their between-class makeout spot, landing me in the foulest of moods.

Snape was leaning over his desk, flipping through a textbook with the wide expanse of his back facing me, his posture was rigid as ever. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me; realistically, though, the man had eyes on the back of his head.

As I crept in, I received quite a few annoyed looks from my fellow Slytherins that screamed, “do NOT risk our points with your idiocy.” I knew my hijinx were anything but appreciated by them. I was painfully aware how unpopular I was with my classmates. My arm was still sore from where Natalie Challock, a fellow seventh year Slytherin, had socked me for the last five points after my riposte against Professor Trelawney following her attempt to convince me of yet another “impending doom”.

“Beware all subsistence for a month!” She had said, waving her fingers in my face with the eccentricity only she could muster. “You must fast or risk death!”

How did she think that would even work..? That I would starve myself for a month or risk what? A fictional punishment delivered by a fictional fate? Yeah no way.

It was only a matter of seconds before I was asking whose fortune she mistold to get her job.

Personally, I had found it clever, unfortunately, she did not. It lost me five points…and earned me a week's worth of sorting tea leaves at lunch, which was about the last way I wanted to spend my time, especially with Trelawney watching me with her creepy owl-like eyes, and the moisture of my hands wicked away by the painful dryness of bay leaves and dried lavender.

I was about two steps from taking my seat in the back of the class - a specific chosen spot I had claimed the first day of potions (coincidentally that might have been the only day I was ever actually early) - when a monotone, baritone voice sliced through the silence in the room.

“Mrs. [Last Name], surely, you aren’t attempting to infiltrate my class ten minutes late?”

I froze my actions, one hand possessively on my book bag, which held my pack of cigarettes, among my textbooks, of course. I could deal with him embarrassing me in front of the class, I could deal with detentions and punishment, I could NOT get caught (again) with “muggle death sticks”, as so vigorously titled by Madam Pomphrey in one of her lectures, after being caught by Professor Sprout smoking out the back door of the greenhouse.

In my defense, you would assume that a Herbology teacher would be fine with a little tobacco.

Wrong.

“Shit,” I muttered, and of course it did not fall upon deaf ears.

Snape cocked his eyebrow to me, the lines of his face deepening with his scowl. “This is not the Quidditch field, which means such dull-witted language will not be tolerated, do you understand?”

Still standing in the aisle of the class, my eyes wandered across my classmates, who held mixed expressions of annoyance and despair, before landing on my best friend, Natalie Challock, who was sporting a disgustingly wide smirk, her pale face blotchy red with excitement, resembling someone who had just run through a swarm of bees.

My eyes darted back to Snape, who impatiently waited for my response. His jaw ticked as I glared into his eyes.

“Yes, Snape,” It fell from my tongue with an unignorable amount of venom, way more than I intended. Acting on impulse was sort of my thing, but calling a teacher, calling Professor Snape by just his last name? That was stupid even for me.

In the fraction of a second, his oxfords were echoing across the gray stone of the dungeons floor, the black void of his robes descending upon me until he stood inches from me. It was seconds before I realized the tip of his wand was poised directly under my jaw. I strained my chin up, avoiding the pointed tip of his ebony wand. I knew he had half a mind to hex me, to turn me into any number of vile creatures to prove his point; but I also knew he had self restraint.

My blood thudded painfully in my ears, no doubt my face was darkened with any number of shades of embarrassment.

“Furthermore,” His tone lowered, even and controlled, which was much more frightening than if he had just yelled at me. “If you decide to disrupt my class with your tardiness or disrespect your Professor again, I will have no choice but to report you to headmaster Dumbledore for your frequent disturbances.”

I bit my tongue until the sharp taste of metallic stung my mouth.

“Are. We. Clear, Mrs. [Last Name]?”

He looked down at me, his angular nose almost emphasizing the sharp contours of his expression, his eyes narrowed with assertion, his lip crooked annoyedly. My heart stopped for a moment. I swallowed thickly and answered.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.”

Snape turned his back and stalked up to his desk, pulling the heavy potions textbook from its resting place and balancing it with one angular hand. He seethed, “Then sit down, and tell the class how to brew three and a quarter liters of Draught of Living Death.

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“And that, regretfully, concludes our class today,” Snape deadpanned, closing his book with an audible snap, and setting it behind him on the desk. Half the class had gathered items into their bags haphazardly and bolted out the door before he could say, “Dismissed.”

“Thank Merlin,” I uttered and stood from my chair, quickly tossing my supplies into my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder, and turning to face the door. My back ached from the hard classroom chairs, and there was a hole in my tight where I had worried at it with my finger.

I was about three strides from freedom when Snape’s voice sliced through the bustle of students.

“Not you, Mrs. [Last Name].”

Natalie Challock passed me on her way out, shooting me a fake grin with her stupidly straight, but intensely yellowed teeth. Her little minions followed behind her, a group of three girls, all Slytherin. I tried to take some sort of satisfaction from the fact that none of them actually liked each other, but stuck together solely because of their parents' allegiances to a certain Dark Lord, but it seemed they had the leg up on me in this situation.

Wow I sucked at consoling myself.

“Have fun!” She whispered, twiddling her finger at me.

My fist bunched up and I shoved it in my pocket to grip my wand, absolutely inclined to hex her into next week. But I didn’t. Instead, I glowered at her until her posse of fakeness disappeared around the corner of the potions room doorway.

“Mrs. [Last Name].”

My attention snapped back to Snape, who stood in front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest. I could faintly hear the sound of the door shut behind me, but I was too caught under Snape’s stare to look back. He glared me down, ever the ice queen of Hogwarts.

“Do you find it enjoyable to constantly disrupt the entire class with your late habits?”

“No, Professor.” Suddenly my shoes seemed to be the most interesting view in the room.

“I don't suppose you have a reason for being late?” He looked expectant.

“Well, I’d have to pin it on the Hufflepuffs snogging in my tower.” It came out before I thought to filter my words; maybe the damp decomposition smell of the dungeons was starting to affect my brain. It was possible, I decided, though, there was truth to my statement. If I hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have gotten in trouble, or about to receive the detention I was undoubtedly about to earn myself.

Yes, definitely the Hufflepuffs, not my own big mouth.

Snape raised an eyebrow incredulously. “The Hufflepuffs…”

“Yes!” Guess I’m committing to this. Sorry random Hufflepuff snoggers! “If they had found some other place to snog besides my astronomy tower, I would have made my smoke break and been to class on time!”

Oops, too much information.

In a moment, his wand was brandished, and he flicked his wrist. My book bag flipped open on my hip and out came my carton of cigarettes, a bundle of sin floating directly into my professor's outstretched palm. I was caught red handed, utterly defeated. I watched him flatly, my frustration budding.

The carton landed gently in the palm of Snape's hand, he turned it between his fingers and stared at it with a level of disdain only he could manage.

He offers a murmured, “Eager for disease, now are we?”

I decided silence was probably the best course of action.

Snape set the carton atop the book on his desk, and replied, “I will be confiscating these.”

“But Sir,-”

“Unless you rather I bring these to Dumbledore’s attention?”

Checkmate. I was caught in his trap. I wondered if he drew a sense of satisfaction from this, from winning. I couldn’t blame him, I would probably be equally as miserable if I spent the hours of my day cramped up in the depths of the mildew infested dungeon.

“No, thank you.” I responded curtly, not wanting to give him something else to critique me on.

“Good.” His eyes flashed with something unplaceable. “Then get out of my office.”

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The Slytherin common room greets me coldly at lunch, as I walk in and drop onto the snakeskin couch, my bag tossed forgotten by my feet. I don't bother looking around for my housemates, knowing they are all busy stuffing their faces in the great hall, so I shuck my tie, pulling it from my neck as I draw in the breath I so desperately needed since my encounter with Snape.

I settle down against the leather and brandish my wand, pointing it at the hourglass.

“Tempus Markus!”

The sands of the hourglass pull together, shifting to fill the top chamber until they settle, and the steady stream of tan grains begin to filter down, a timer for lunch.

“Merlin, that man must be miserable.” I sigh aloud, leaning my head back against the couch, my hair falls over the back and for a moment I relish how nice it feels.

“Who? Professor Snape?”

My head darts up and I see a girl sitting across from me.

I eye her suspiciously (how did she approach so quietly?).

“...Yeah.” I say in cautious agreement.

“He was quite harsh on you today, though I suppose you were late.” She adds the second part and thoughtfully looks up, as if she’s tracking down another thought. What an odd girl, is all I can fathom. Everything about her is pristine, from her short black bob to her neat uniform. She doesn't have a bag, but instead a neat stack of books balanced over her knobby tucked together knees. I guess she is a fourth year, from her size and the youthful roundness of her face.

So why is she in seventh year potions?

The girl sticks out a hand to me. “I’m Violet Pershare.” I reach forward and shake it. Shockingly, Violet has one hell of a firm handshake “I’m a third year,” She says with an umph of pride, I can tell she’s been waiting for me to ask. “Headmaster Dumbledore has me taking more advanced courses. We have potions together, second period! I sit in the very front of the class on the left. You sit in the back right? I couldn’t imagine sitting in the back, I had bad eyesight, you see, but my mother wont let me get glasses, something about how no witch in our family has had to wear them. Personally, I think glasses look quite smart.”

I take a deep breath to ward away the headache this conversation is undoubtedly bringing on. “Yes,” Is all I have to offer for her spiel, though I’m not quite sure to what part I’m even responding to.

“I like to come to the common room for lunch, the great hall is too loud. Usually I just study since no one else is here.” She smiles awkwardly and looks excitedly down at her lap, her hands clasped together.

There is something charming about Violet, maybe it comes from my sibling-less upbringing, but she fits the little sister profile well, though a little goody-two-shoes and talkative for my taste; then again maybe I’m just trying to talk myself out of taking this little scholar of a third year under my wing.

I press my lips together. I could use a smoke right now, to clear my head, it feels fuzzy, like my thoughts are padded with static.

“You shouldn’t smoke!” Violet bursts out, clapping her hand over her mouth in a matter of seconds.

I stare at her incredulously.

“I’m sorry!” She offers quickly.

My first reaction is to glance around, partially hoping Natalie Challock is going to jump out from behind a statue and howl with laughter at my foolishness for falling for a prank so ridiculous.

My second reaction is to narrow my eyes and spit out a bitter, “I don’t think Professor Snape would be happy with you eavesdropping on his after class scoldings.”

“Oh no!” I'm surprised to find she sounds almost shocked herself. “I would never!”

“Then what, you expect me to believe you read minds?”

She twists her hands in her lap and avoids eye contact. I raise an eyebrow before bunching up my tie in my hands and tossing it to her from across the coffee table dividing us. It lands limply in her lap, shocking her out of her trance.

“I’m…” She glances around at the empty room like she expects half the year to pour in at any minute. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

I shrug, nonchalantness is the key to getting this information. I yawn and reach for my bag, pulling out a random text book and laying it in my lap, flipping to a random page - dog-eared years ago by a previous owner - and pretending to scan over the words, which to my nicotine deficient brain looked like a jumble of glyphs.

Violet looks at her lap and folds my tie neatly until it resembles a pocket square. She looks dejected at the sudden abrupt end of our conversation.

It’s only a few moments before she speaks again in a hushed voice, “If you promise not to tell anyone…”

I smile and close my book with an ecstatic snap and reach out my pink finger to her, which she looks at confused, so I lower it, chiding myself for not remembering that not everyone comes from the muggle world, as situation faced more often than not in Slytherin, a house dominated by blood supremacists - but I don't determine Violet as the type, mostly just young and unaware that there are other ways to grow up not involving overbearing pureblood parents, something I’m not unfamiliar with.

“I’ve been practicing Legilimency.” Violet admits. “Professor Snape teaches it as a special night class.”

“Legilimency?” I murmur. I’ve heard of the practice. General, ability to peer into peoples minds, but when harnessed by art wizards, it’s the ability to infiltrate and pick apart any thought. Just the idea that Violet had invaded my mind made my stomach ache something vile.

What had she seen? The bite in the back of my mind cooed that she had surely viewed more than a fleeting thought. Maybe she was poking around, maybe there was an agenda - not hard to believe with the avoidant dart of her eyes.

Fuck, I was paranoid.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone about my classes, but I guess I’m just so excited.” Violet offers a somewhat assuring smile. “I’m sorry I read your thoughts, again, It’s hard to learn how and when…y’know?”

“Yeah, it's okay.” I’m not sure if I mean it.

Violet nods a few times and leans forward to offer me my tie, still neatly folded. As I take it from her, her eyes float down to the hourglass, and when I do the same I see there is only a sprinkle of sand at the top of the glass chamber.

“Shit!”, “Oh Merlin!” Both me and Violet jump to our feet and exclaim.

I scramble to tie my tie, the green silk slipping loosely around my collar. By the time it's finished and I’ve grasped my messenger bag, Violet is gone.

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 1 year ago

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Always There - Chapter Fourteen: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, Umbridge, Fudge, Harry is a little shit, swearing, not proofread

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: To those who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving!

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1775

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

Not even a few days into the term, Harry had already received detention from Professor Umbridge. Now the toad-like woman never told Y/N exactly why he was given detention, just that he had lied to her about something and she didn’t appreciate that. She then proceeded to blame the Herbology professor’s parenting for the boy’s behavior. This was her first sign that something was up with the new professor and then she saw her nephew’s hand the day after his detention. It was scabbed over with the words ‘I must not tell lies’ carved into his hand.

“Harry, what happened to your hand?” Y/N pulled him aside to ask him the question.

“It’s nothing Aunt Y/N, I promise,” Harry replied.

“Don’t hide this from me. Tell me what happened and how you got those words on your hand.”

“It was my detention with Professor Umbridge. She used some kind of quill that carves the words into your hand as you write them. She told me to stop lying about the return of Voldemort but she wasn’t there! I was there! I saw him!”

“I know, my boy, I know. I’ll handle this, okay? Go see Madame Pomphrey, she’ll give you something so that won’t scar,” She instructed her nephew. To say that the woman was furious was an understatement, so she stormed her way up to the headmaster’s office where Dumbledore and Umbridge were sitting and talking with the Minister of Magic. “You foul woman! How dare you use a cursed quill on a child! You should be sent to Azkaban for what you did to my nephew!” She yelled at the woman drowning in pink.

“Whatever do you mean Professor Potter? I would never do such a thing,” Umbridge said innocently.

“Look at Harry’s hand! It’s all scabbed up with the line YOU made him write for telling the truth! He does not lie! I raised him better than that!”

“Are you sure you raised him at all? I mean the poor boy looks quite disheveled all the time, his clothes are all worn down and his shoes are atrocious. I thought you came from a wealthy pure-blood family, Miss Potter?” Umbridge picked at her. She wanted a reaction and boy did she get one.

“I swear to Godric I will kill you if you speak ill of my family once more! Harry has new clothes and shoes, he just doesn’t want to wear them yet! And my family’s financial status has nothing to do with it! Nor does the blood status! Who cares about blood status?! Albus, Minister, if you two don’t take action, I certainly will and you will not like what I will do to this loathsome toad disguised as a woman,” Y/N was panting with anger, the longer she looked at the woman, the more she wanted to pounce at her and beat the shit out of her. However, she knew she couldn’t do that, not with the minister around, she had to be on her best behavior which she also wasn’t following.

“Did you need something, Dumbledore? I was interrupted in the middle of my lesson,” A familiar and calming voice stated behind her, however calming it was, she was still amped up and rearing to have a go at the pink toad.

“Ah Severus, nice of you to join us. I wish to speak to you and Miss Potter privately,” Albus responded, “Professor, minister, I hope you don’t mind waiting a few moments. I need to speak to these two about a rather urgent matter.” Umbridge and the minister left the room and waited outside to be called back in.

“What’s going on, why are you so upset, love?” Severus asked her.

“That toad out there is torturing the students! She used some kind of cursed quill on Harry that carved whatever he wrote on paper on his skin. He has ‘I must not tell lies’ carved on his hand for Salazar’s sake! Hasn’t there been enough shitty professors here in that same position?”

“I understand your frustration Y/N, however there is not much I can do here. They have begun to dwindle my authority in this school and that starts with not having the ability to dismiss Professor Umbridge. She was hired by the Minister, not by me so it is the Minister’s doing if it comes to dismissing her or not,” Dumbledore explained.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Albus! You’ve been ignoring Harry since the beginning of the term and now you’re just letting this slide?! Like this isn’t child abuse or torture?!” She screamed at the man.

“Why don’t you head to the hospital wing with Harry, love. I’ll handle this, you need to be with him right now,” Severus stepped in trying to diffuse the situation.

“If nothing gets done about this I will leave my position and take Harry with me, no matter how much I love this school and no matter how much Harry does, I cannot allow my boy to be tortured like this! He is my son! He is mine to care for and protect! And with that toad around, I can’t protect him!” She threatened before storming out of the office. She quite literally ran into Umbridge on her way out, nearly knocking the woman over, but she kept walking.

She kept her pace until she had made it to the doors of the hospital wing, taking a deep breath before entering and locating her nephew. He was sitting in the bed, Madame Pomphrey applying a healing ointment to his hand to help the scarring. His eyes lit up when he saw his aunt, a smile making its way to his face, brightening his features. She had noticed that Harry and James have the same smile, one so big that it will light up a whole room, it was uncanny really.

“Harry, my love, how’s your hand feeling? Any better?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady and calm even though she was still seething inside.

“A lot better actually. Did you talk to Dumbledore?”

“I did. Harry, there’s nothing he can do. The Minister hired her so that means that Dumbledore can’t do anything. The Minister seemed rather unphased. Look, love, if nothing gets done, we will be leaving Hogwarts and going elsewhere. I can’t have you at risk again, we can go find somewhere safe, maybe go to America, I heard Ilvermorny is one of the best wizarding schools in the world.”

“I don’t want to leave! That’s not fair, you can’t take me away from my friends for something so little! And you can’t just leave Hogwarts and the Order! That’s not the right thing to do!” Harry argued.

“It’s the right thing to do in terms of your safety! That is my number one priority, YOU are my number one priority!” Y/N replied, getting frustrated with the situation once again.

“I am not leaving. Hogwarts is my home! Hogwarts is where my family is! And you want to take me away from that?!”

“What about our home? What about me? Am I not your family anymore?”

“No, not if you take me away from here. Hogwarts is my home, it’s where I feel the safest, where I feel the most welcomed!” With that, Y/N walked out of the hospital wing, not wanting to continue the argument and make the matter worse. She felt like every time she took a step forward in the right direction, she took three steps back not even a week later. She couldn’t catch a break.

She didn’t get what Harry didn’t understand, and sure it was unfair but did he not consider his safety? His aunt’s sanity? She had almost landed a one way ticket to St. Mungos during the summer, after spending the whole holiday awake and rushing to calm Harry down after a nightmare. She made it back to her quarters in no time, Severus already there waiting for her to return. “What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, seeing the look on her face knowing that something was bothering her.

“Harry told me he won’t consider me family if I pull him out of Hogwarts. I just want to keep him safe, Severus. That is all I want and I can’t have the peace of mind with Umbridge here because can torture the students and get away with it because Fudge sucks and will do anything that toad will ask of him. The students aren’t learning anything in her class nor are they practicing and then she is observing me tomorrow and I know it’s going to be bad because I yelled at her in front of Dumbledore and Fudge and I’m gonna get sacked and have nobody until the holidays. I’m overwhelmed, I’m so overwhelmed and I don’t know what to do anymore. Nothing I do will make Harry happy and all I want for him is to be safe and happy. It’s getting to be too much for me, Sev, I don’t think I can handle this by myself anymore,” She ranted to her partner. Severus was quiet for a moment, processing everything she had said before he formulated his response.

“Firstly, I don’t think she’ll sack you for yelling at her, she has to observe the way you teach before making that decision, you are a fantastic professor, you will be fine. Secondly, Harry doesn’t understand it because he’s a teenager, everything is about him and his friends, nobody else. He doesn’t want to get taken away from his friends which is understandable, however, the way he spoke to you is not okay, he needs to learn to treat you with respect. Thirdly, you don’t have to do this alone anymore, I’m here. I will always be here, call me for help, if you need me to handle Harry, I can handle Harry. You are the love of my life and that boy is a part of you, he is part of my life too and he is a big part. I will do anything for the both of you, always. Just say the word and I will be right by your sides,” Severus replied, his voice filled with understanding and love.

She rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around his middle and holding onto him tightly. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck as she breathed in his scent and listened to his breathing. Severus wrapping his arms around her almost instantly and holding her just as tight, his head resting on top of hers. “Thank you,” She whispered to him.

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hillnerd · 2 years ago

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The Wonderful Won Won - Chapter 6

A03 ff.net beginning of story | Previous Chapter

chapter word count 6006

Been a while! I had this chapter almost all written but completely forgot about it to be honest!

Chapter Warnings- crude language and thoughts.

Chapter 6 - O -R -G

Ron woke early, something he was quite loathe to do. He should have gotten used to it, since he grew up on a farm and was forced out of bed quite early in the morning for chores a few times a week. He never did. While other siblings were genuine early risers, Ron was more of a night owl. He had time to himself at night, no chores, and no expectations. Plus there were few things that brought more pleasure than falling asleep and waking up naturally as late as you needed.

Despite all this, Ron found himself giddy. He was finally going to leave the hospital wing. Pomfrey had run a gamut of tests on him the night before- and he was mostly alright. He still had potions to take, he still had trouble with writing when he was tired, and he still felt a bit wobbly with walking after a few minutes- but he was allowed to go to class! He could finally move and interact with people.

The air felt fresher. The warmth from his long shower actually seemed to seep in deeper than it had before. And he had Hermione back. How could anything be wrong in his life again?

As Harry went to the bathroom to get dressed and do his morning ablutions, Madame Pomfrey approached Ron at the door, a few vials of potion in her hands.

“Now, just because I am letting you attend your classes does not give you a completely clean bill of health, Mr Weasley. You’ve got to take these potions as instructed within thirty-seven minutes of eating or they lose their efficacy. If you eat them without food they can eat right through you, so it’s highly important to take them with your meal. Your next potion is in twenty minutes. I’ve put some Unbreakable charms on these so you can keep them in your book bag without trouble.”

“Thanks, Madame Pomphrey,” he said, hoping his face got across how he felt. Though he was very grateful for her care, he was more thankful for her doing this in private.

“It’s just my job,” she said with a shake of her head. She gave him a look that almost seemed fond before she was all Healer-business again. “Now, if you have dizziness, confusion, or limb numbness that continues for more than a few moments that’s a sign you need to rest. No pushing yourself, and no Quidditch for another week. And if you have the more severe symptoms—”

“I’ll come to you,” Ron nodded, trying his best not to roll his eyes. He put his book bag on the floor to place the large amount of potions bottles in it when he heard the unmistakable cadence of footsteps coming his way. He tried to get all the bottles into his bag before she’d seen them, but glancing up he knew he’d been caught.

Hermione stood over him, face full of concern, eyes dead focused on his hand struggling to hold six bottles at once.

“That’s an awful lot of potions to be taking still…”

He quickly shoved the bottles into his bag, but took his time righting himself. His eyes trailed up Hermione feasting over her from her tiny little ankles, to her ink stained fingers, to her — shit he shouldn’t look at her tits— to her pert nose, and overbite she’d never fully gotten rid of pressing into her full bottom lip. There was something stirring about finally standing on his own two feet so near to her. He knew he was standing a bit too close, but he couldn’t help himself. He could stand there staring at her all day.

“Are you sure it’s alright for you to get out of the Hospital Wing so soon?” she fretted, and his heart soared. He didn’t like to see her worried, exactly, but seeing her making that concerned face just for him— not for Harry or Kreacher or whoever— cemented that things had truly been healed between them. Their pleasant time in the hospital wing wasn’t an anomaly. She really was back in his life.

“I’ll be fine,” he grinned, putting a hand on her shoulder.

A tender secret sort of smile slowly spread across her face. “Well, it will be nice to have you back in classes and everything else again.”

She was looking up at him through her lashes, there was something behind her eyes he couldn’t quite define as they stared at one another. His eyes fell to her lips. A charge seemed to pass between them, and he felt a swooping sensation nearabouts his stomach. Could she feel it too? Or was he just woozy from being bedridden so long? His gaze traced back up to her unreadable eyes.

“Morning, Hermione!” came Harry’s voice.

“Sweet fuck, Harry!” Ron cursed in surprise, gripping Hermione’s shoulder a bit tight. Whatever spell had passed between him and Hermione was broken. She gave Ron a miffed look that clearly said she had little patience for his foul mouth, before turning her gaze on Harry. She was beaming at him with a happy tender expression that seemed to surpass the one she’d given Ron earlier.

What an utter sod he was. Friends… Ron and Hermione were just friends… He’d have to remind himself of that every day. Realizing he’d let his hand linger on Hermione a bit too long for a friendly gesture, he snatched it away and took a few steps back from her.

God that was close. He couldn’t be staring at her like that and thinking of her lips and reading into her looks. He had a girlfriend… And Hermione was now happily chatting with Harry as if Ron didn’t exist.

Harry looked happier than Ron had seen him in ages.

“Looks like we finally have a clean bill of health!” Harry declared, going to his bed to collect his bag.

“Looks like,” Ron said, giving Hermione a silencing look as she opened her mouth in protest. She shut her mouth with a small click of her teeth and had an expression that plainly conveyed her disapproval. To his relief she schooled her face to a more neutral look by the time Harry got back to them.

Ron felt uncertain as he took his first steps out of the hospital wing. The elation at his newfound freedom was definitely there, but he still felt like a partially unraveled sweater. Normally Ron was outstripping Harry without thinking, but he couldn’t take the long easy strides he normally did and his book bag felt like a lead broom. Harry was back to full health, of course, so there was no gimping around and blaming his ambling pace on his best friend.

It must have meant a lot to have their trio back together, for Harry uncharacteristically clapped his arms around both their shoulders a moment, a beam on his face and a spring in his step. Harry set an excited pace down the hall and just a minute or so into their walk Ron was already feeling winded.

“Harry, could you slow down? I have a few heavy books in my bag,” said Hermione, slowing her pace until she was moving about as slow as Auntie Muriel; just about the right pace for Ron. Harry was practically vibrating having to slow his quick strides down for her, but Ron couldn’t have been happier. He shot her a knowing raise of an eyebrow behind Harry’s back, and a bit of color came to the apples of her cheeks.

Harry kept having trouble keeping a slow pace until Hermione brought up Ginny and Dean’s most recent fight.

“What did they row about?” he asked with much more interest than the topic deserved. Ron had never known Harry to be much of a gossip before, and couldn’t fathom why he cared so much about Ginny and Dean all of a sudden.

A great crash down the hall stopped Hermione from answering. Some little girl had dropped her scales, and was looking at them like they were about to bake her into a pie or something. Hermione quickly tended to the weird little thing, which was just like her. He was quite fond of how she’d tut and fret over the oddest creatures in need. Her compassion was a bit hard to predict at times.

She’d heap it on the likes of an ungrateful wretch like Kreacher, then withhold it from someone like Sirius because he was a bit of a wreck. Most people thought she was just a hard nosed fussbudget— but Ron got to see the little moments where she’d do tender little things for others, genuinely trying to help them— even if she got it dead wrong, and even if they didn’t want their help.

He watched as Hermione’s helpful smile fell. Even her hair looked a bit limper when she’d not managed to help someone. As per usual, Hermione’s help didn’t seem particularly wanted, for the girl didn’t so much as utter a ‘thanks,’ the ungrateful twitchy midget.

“I swear they’re getting smaller,” Ron said, hoping to brace Hermione a bit.

“Never mind her,” Harry groused, giving a dismissive hand wave towards the midget. “What did Ginny and Dean row about, Hermione?”

“Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you.”

“It must’ve looked funny,” said Ron. Honestly with Luna’s commentary it had been. It didn’t sound like something worthy of a full row, but Hermione had other ideas.

“It didn’t look funny at all!”

Ron tried to catch her eye, but she ignored him, hands wringing the same way they had in the hospital wing. Had she been that worried about Ron? He couldn’t rightly recall. His week in the hospital wing was still a blur, but the worry she had for Harry stood out in sharp focus.

“It looked terrible, and if Coote and Peakes hadn’t caught Harry he could have been very badly hurt!”

“Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it,” said Harry, a weird constipated sort of look on his face. “Or are they still together?”

“Yes, they are — but why are you so interested?”

“I just don’t want my Quidditch team messed up again!” said Harry, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The encroaching interrogation by Hermione was cut off by the sound of Luna Lovegood greeting them. The odd girl floated over and, without preamble, began unloading random garbage from her bag directly into Ron’s hands. Once his hands were nearly full she found a bedraggled message from Dumbledore for Harry. Ron grinned at the dotty teen as she started gathering her toadstool and cat litter back. She was mad, of course, but she was a good sort of girl who was able to cheer him as well as any charm.

“Nice commentary last match!” he told her.

She smiled, but it seemed stiff and unfriendly.

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? Everyone says I was dreadful.”

He couldn’t help feeling bad for her. It was rather gutsy of her to do the Quidditch commentary, and he honestly had a near riotous time listening to her. She’d probably caught a lot of flack for it, now that he thought of it. The castle was mostly full of arseholes not worth ten Lunas.

“No, I’m serious! I can’t remember enjoying commentary more!” he declared, hoping she’d know he was in earnest, though he doubted he could convince her if she was predisposed to distrust him. She might be dotty, but she could be as stubborn as Hermione.

Not wanting to argue the point, he decided a distraction was better. Showing interest in something she cared about would be an okay route, he reckoned.

“What is this, by the way?” he asked, holding the onion-like object up to eye level.

“Oh, it’s a Gurdyroot,” she said, stuffing the cat litter and the toadstool back into her bag. Her pale eyes popped wide, and her genuine smile came back. “You can keep it if you like, I’ve got a few of them. They’re really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies.”

With that she waltzed away, leaving Ron chortling, still clutching the Gurdyroot.

“You know, she’s grown on me, Luna,” he said, as they set off again for the Great Hall. “I know she’s insane, but it’s in a good —”

His voice stopped along with his feet. All the breath left his chest so suddenly he felt a touch of the dizziness Madam Pomphrey had warned him about.

Lavender was standing at the foot of the marble staircase. She looked in high dudgeon, a barely contained fury emitting from her eyes. Her arms were crossed and he almost expected her to send a flock of canaries his way.

“Hi,” he managed to rasp out.

“C’mon,” Harry muttered to Hermione, and they sped past him, leaving him completely alone and at Lavender’s mercy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out today? And why was she with you?”

He ambled towards her at a glacial pace partly because he felt like crap, and partly because it gave him time to think.

“I didn’t know I’d be getting out.”

“But somehow she knew?”

“Well you know how Hermione is…” he said in a casual way, hoping to deescalate Lavender’s growing ire.

“Yes. I do know how she is. She’s the type of friend who ignores you for months on end.”

Ron felt his jaw clench. He didn’t care if Lavender was right about Hermione ignoring him, he didn’t like Hermione being sneered about like that.

“Why is she sniffing about you so much now?”

“We made up.”

“You made up?” Lavender quietly asked, her face curiously blank.

“Yeah?” he responded, not sure if he should run (limp) away or let out a relieved sigh at how calm she was being. If it were Hermione he’d have a better idea of where he stood. He knew the little twitches of her brows when she was gearing up for a fight, the sharp look of her eye that meant a lecture was coming his way, and had memorized the way her mouth would purse when she was trying very hard to hold back a laugh.

Lavender was a different sort of readable. She never left him in doubt if she was attracted to him, or admired him, but was annoyingly unreadable when she got angry.

Lavender bit her lip in a way she usually did to flirt, but then something in her expression tightened.

“So what? Now that you and Hermione have made up, she’s more important than me?”

Ron swallowed. In his mind Hermione took precedence over just about everyone, but he couldn’t very well tell Lavender that.

“I was worried sick when you were in the hospital wing!” she continued. “The day it happened no one even thought to tell me you were poisoned. And to make it worse they all shuffled Hermione Granger in there immediately, while I had to find out from the rumor mill! People were asking me if I knew the details and I had to just shake my head like an idiot because no one had told me anything! Do you know how embarrassing it was for me?”

“Well, sorry I embarrassed you with my poisoning!” Ron bit back, a small throb of pain lit through his eye sockets. “Must have been really tough not being the one with all the juicy gossip.”

She gasped and looked terribly close to slapping him. “How could you think that I care about that? It’s about Hermione—”

“I was unconscious! I can’t help who they contacted!”

The pain behind his eyes increased.

“Of course not, but the problem was they didn’t think I was important enough in your life to warrant being told!” she scolded him, making him flinch. She wasn’t far off the mark with that. “And when I finally found out and I visited you I didn’t get to be told everything by the nurse, and have all your friends around to figure out what had happened. They all glared at me like I didn’t belong, and treated me like I was stupid for not knowing everything they’d been told bout your condition. You nearly died and were so pale and unconscious all the time and- and… Do you have any idea how frightening it was to be in the dark about you? How scary it was to see you like that?”

She looked close to tears, and for once instead of panic at the sight Ron felt a hearty dose of shame. He hadn’t thought about how his feigning sleep would affect her. He hadn’t thought at all. All he’d wanted to do was maintain peace with Hermione somehow, and maybe have Lavender just lose interest; instead Lavender had ended up being treated like crap.

“Lav… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he sincerely apologized. The throbbing in his head felt more and more like a spike being hammered.

“The thing is, I can’t exactly stay mad at you for it. It’s not your fault you were hopped up on all those potions and asleep…” she said, rather reasonably, before her look hardened. “But you were plenty awake this morning! Where was my notice today? Why did you tell Hermione you were getting out of the hospital wing, but not me?”

“She was visiting Harry!” Ron spluttered. “She was visiting and we were both just cleared this morning, so she joined up with our group.”

“Oh how very convenient! Now that you’re all made up I guess she thinks she can steal you away, is that it?”

“Steal me— What?” Ron asked, truly perplexed.

“I see the way she looks at you, Ron!” she said, throwing her hands up. “She fancies you!”

The idea of Hermione fancying him was thrilling, but so ludicrous, he felt bitter laughter bubbling up almost immediately. His pulse thundered in his ears.

“Hermione… fancy me?”

“Don’t look so excited about it!”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said, resigned. He’d seen the way she worried over Harry, the way she wrote Krum, the way she even went on that date with Mclaggen. “We’re just friends. She doesn’t fancy me.”

She snorted at this.

“You don’t know a thing about girls, Ron.”

“And don’t I know it,” he said with a sigh, unsure of what to do with Lavender. It wasn’t fair how he’d avoided her in the hospital wing, and to be honest he had no interest in spending time with her now.

“You—” Lavender’s voice broke. “You don’t fancy her, do you?

Ron swallowed.

“No. I don’t fancy her,” he answered.

It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t fancy Hermione. He all out loved her. It went far beyond mere fancying.

“Look. Lavender, I really like you, but maybe we…” Her eyes went wide. “Let’s…”

Break up!

“Let’s get breakfast,” he lamely finished.

What little energy he had was quickly flagging and the spike in his head felt more like the Whomping Willow had nestled inside his skull.

“And where will we sit?”

“Huh?” he asked with squinted eyes.

“I don’t know if you noticed but your friends have been treating me horribly!”

“How’s that?” The room was slightly lilting to the side.

“Well first there was them not telling me you were in the hospital wing, but even now, they skulked off like I have the plague the moment I came over!”

“Well…” he swallowed, trying to center himself. It felt like he was looking through a dusty pair of omnioculars. “They could see you were angry and probably wanted to give us privacy. Plus you made it pretty clear you were ticked at Hermione. Why would anyone want to stick around for that?”

“Well I’m rather ticked at you- are YOU going to run off too?”

“I dunno, maybe! Lavender, what do you want me to say here?” he said, putting his bag down and sitting on a stair step. The cool stone felt so calming he wanted to put his throbbing head on it. He settled for putting his head in his hands. After a moment of keeping his head down, the room seemed to center itself a bit.

“Look, be mad at me if you need to be,” he mumbled to the floor, eyes closed. “That’s fine. Just... I need breakfast. I have a load of potions I have to take and I have to take them with food or it’ll eat clear through my stomach.”

“What!?” she asked, voice going high.

“Please… volume…” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Won Won,” she said, voice filled with nothing but concern. He glanced up and saw her face was truly etched with worry, scanning him all over. “I didn’t know you were still on potions. Why is Pomphrey letting you out at all if you’re still so weak?”

“I’m not weak!” He protested, weakly standing and wobbling in place a bit. “I just… I’m supposed to avoid being stressed, and this,” he said gesturing between them, “is stressful.”

“Our relationship is stressful?” she asked. He wanted to respond with a resounding ‘yes!’ so it would all be over already. But her eyes looked too mournful and glistening. He couldn’t have her crying on him. He’d just have to eventually convince her he was no good. That couldn’t be hard! He really was a crap boyfriend and had nothing to offer a girl.

“You know me, I’m just a grumpy arse… Let’s… Let’s just get some food…. We can sit wherever you like, just no more fighting, ok?”

“Alright,” she said, looking at him with an unsure gaze. She stood on a step to kiss him, which he was grateful for. He didn’t think he could stay standing if she pulled him down to her height. Her hands began to dart around to his back and he pulled away, slowly untangling her arms from around him. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m gonna faint if I don’t eat soon,” he exaggerated. Yeah he felt a bit wobbly, but not quite near passing out. After the last week he’d had plenty of experience with that sensation. He was just dizzy enough to lose balance.

“Oh! Well then let’s get you plenty of food!” she said, picking up his bag from the ground.

“You don’t have to carry my bag…”

“I do! You look so awfully weak and peakid!”

“Just what every bloke wants to hear,” he groused, following behind her.

As much as he wanted to sit with Harry and Hermione, he knew he had no choice but to sit with Lavender. He finally had Hermione back as a friend, and Lavender was keeping them apart. What if this made Hermione ditch him again? His stomach felt so queasy at the thought he had trouble eating his breakfast.

That and Lavender had her arm entwined around him have to do everything one handed.

He knew he had to end it. He didn’t love Lavender. He loved Hermione. And until he could somehow stop loving her, he couldn’t bring himself to date another girl.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Ron? You’re not talking? Is it because you’re still—” Lavender dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Brain damaged.”

“No!” Ron insisted, looking about to make sure no one over heard. He glanced down the table to see Hermione quietly smiling at him and raising a glass his way. He quirked his brows and gave her a smile back.

“Why are you smiling at her?” Lavender asked, giving Hermione a potent glare.

Ron slowly extricated his arm from her hold. “Look, Lav. We’re friends again. You’re going to have to get used to that.”

Lavender’s jaw clenched and unclenched, but she said nothing else on the matter. It helped that Parvati chose that moment to sit at the table. The two best friends were able to entertain each other with the latest gossip, and Ron gratefully didn’t have to talk the rest of the meal. Both arms free he finished his meal then discreetly chugged one of his potions the moment he was done.

He looked down the table again. For just a moment he caught Hermione looking at him. Her eyes quickly slid away from him and a small smile tugged at her mouth.

That tiny smirk was enough to fuel Ron through the rest of the day.

He needed that fuel. His body was still in a state of lethargy he couldn’t escape, which made him even easier prey for Lavender. She kept seizing his arm so firmly in classes and tense meals he wasn’t sure he’d have full feeling in it again until summer.

That evening he made up his mind he had to end things with her. It wasn’t right to date her when he wasn’t interested and Hermione preoccupied his every thought.

Before breakfast she’d sought him out in the Common Room. He gave a deep sigh, using his hands on his knees to help him rise from the sofa.

“Hey Lav, we need to talk.”

“Okay, let’s do that at breakfast,” she said, putting her arm around his and leaning in to kiss him. He turned his head and her lips grazed the corner of his lips instead.

“No, I think we should do this more privately.”

“I don’t have time to snog, I have to finish a dream journal for Trelawney,” she said, leading him towards the portrait hole.

“I’m not asking to snog! I need to talk to you and—”

“Oh look, there’s Parvati!” Lavender said, giving her friend a wave and taking out her journal with one hand while the other held tight around his elbow. “How did you format the imagery meaning part for your journal? I had everything listed at the top then in the description of the dream detailed out—”

Ron stopped listening, and instead let his body be dragged to the Hall. He couldn’t very well ditch her in front of her best friend and the rest of the school.

It continued like this through the week. He would try to entreat her to talk, she’d just kiss him and bodily drag him places where people were about.

On Thursday evening they were finally alone in the hall. Here was his chance.

“Look Lav, I think it’s best if we take some time—”

“I know,” she said, leaning up and kissing him. Her grip was too tight, and her kiss uncomfortably bruising. “I know I’ve been really busy and unable to prioritize us. Maybe we can have a date soon and take the time we need.”

“No— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, Won-Won,” she said, with a tight smile. “I’ve been so stressed with everything. My classes have been so busy and I wasn’t able to do much when you were in the hospital wing I was so upset. I have a lot of makeup work. It’s nice that we can at least be together a bit like this, you know?”

Unable to think of anything to say, she took his silence as an opportunity to give him a much more gentle kiss. He gave up trying to ditch her the rest of the day.

It was miserable.

The rest of the week Ron survived on little smiles from Hermione and his potions Pomphrey kept supplying him with. By the time he’d extricated himself from Lavender for any meaningful amount of time it was the end of the week.

Just past dinner, the whole common room was abuzz.

Harry and Hermione were standing together near the crowd of students.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked Harry, feeling properly wobbly after walking up seven flights of stairs.

“They’ve announced the date for the Apparition test,” Harry said pointing to a sign on the notice board. Most of the students had to elbow past one another to read the sign, but all Ron had to do was stand on his toes.

“Oh no-no-no-no-no,” Ron muttered, hand going to his hair as he counted the days until the April test. There was hardly any time at all. “Oh, this is a disaster!”

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, standing beside him. She was looking at him and not the sign.

“I’m fine,” he said under his breath, giving her hand a small squeeze. It was so much smaller than his, and rather cold. He knew he should let go of it, but he didn’t want to.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“I’ve missed so many lessons, and I’ve not Apparated properly yet!”

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” Hermione replied soothingly. She let go of his hand to sit on the sofa next to the fireplace.

“Maybe not for you or Harry, but there’s no way I’ll be ready in time!” Ron replied, throwing himself beside her with a defeated thud.

“I can’t take the test whether I’m ready or not,” said Harry.

“At least you can Apparate, though! You’ll have no trouble come July!” said Ron, adding the last bit to boost his friend.

“I’ve only done it once,” he replied with a shrug.

“Well once is better than none. You’ll smash it,” Ron said, putting his head back on the couch.

“Why don’t we forget about Apparition for the time being. You have some work you need to knock out, right?” Hermione asked, little cool hand going to his again.

He closed his eyes, head splitting, and held it fast. “Yeah… Yeah in a moment. I’m just tired.”

Surprisingly Hermione did not push. Instead she talked with Harry about the Defence essay they each had finished days ago, while Ron hadn’t even been there for the lesson explaining it. His friends’ discussion led to a small row about the Half-Blood Prince and that bloody potions book again.

That was motivation enough to pick up his quill and start working on the essay. At least if he was dizzily doing an assignment he could somewhat tune out their arguing.

The assignment was ruthless with so many hoops to jump through that Ron felt like a lion in a circus act. Merlin his brain felt like a ball of wax that had been smashed in saw dust. He had one of Fred and George’s spell-check quills to help, but the task was made even harder when his friends were starting to snarl at each other.

“None of that matters, Hermione! Slughorn’s memory is what’s most important,” Harry barked, eyes scanning the battered book. “So I’m using everything I can to help!”

“I’m telling you, the stupid Prince isn’t going to be able to help you with this, Harry!” said Hermione, more loudly. “There’s only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that’s the Imperius Curse, which is illegal —”

“Yeah, I know that, thanks,” said Harry, not looking up from the book. “That’s why I’m looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won’t do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell. ...”

Ron stared at his paper. Was it just him, or was everything off? It was probably just him, but it felt like his letters were moving across the page and not spelled right at all? Considering a week ago he couldn’t write his own name, he was doing alright, but… Surely that wasn’t how one spelled belligerent! He was achingly tired and his hands were starting to shake.

“You’re going about it the wrong way,” Hermione badgered Harry. “Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can’t. It’s not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that —”

“How d’you spell ‘belligerent’?” Ron interrupted, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. “It can’t be B — U — M —”

Hermione’s scowl immediately melted, and her brow creased with worry.

“No, it isn’t,” said Hermione, as she pulled his essay toward her. “And ‘augury’ doesn’t begin O — R — G either.”

O — R —- G…. Like orgy? Oh no…

“What kind of quill are you using?” she asked.

“It’s one of Fred and George’s Spell-Check ones … but I think the charm must be wearing off. ...”

“Yes, it must,” said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, “because we were asked how we’d deal with dementors, not ‘Dugbogs,’ and I don’t remember you changing your name to ‘Roonil Wazlib’ either.”

“Ah no!” moaned Ron, horror grating his brain to mush. He honestly wanted to cry. His hands were shaking, his head was hurting, and now… “Don’t say I’ll have to write the whole thing out again!”

“It’s okay, we can fix it,” said Hermione in a gentle tone. She took out her wand in a manner that assured him, no matter what, things would be okay.

“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back in his chair, and rubbing at his stinging eyes. He’d never been more grateful.

“Don’t let Lavender hear you saying that,” she quietly replied.

“I won’t,” said Ron into his hands, pressing the palms into his eye sockets hoping for some relief. “Or maybe I will ... then she’ll ditch me ...”

“Why don’t you ditch her if you want to finish it?” asked Harry.

Ron let out a mirthless laugh.

“You haven’t ever chucked anyone, have you? You and Cho just —”

“Sort of fell apart, yeah,” said Harry

“Wish that would happen with me and Lavender,” said Ron. If she did maybe he could have the tiniest of shots with Hermione. Despite everything they’d been through, she was by his side again. She silently tapped each of his misspelled words with the end of her wand so that they corrected themselves on the page.

“But the more I hint I want to finish it,” Ron continued, “the tighter she holds on. It’s like going out with the giant squid.”

Harry gave him a look of sympathy but was quickly pulled into feverishly reading the Half-Blood Prince’s notes.

This gave Ron the perfect opportunity to silently watch Hermione. The firelight created a little halo effect as it bounced off her frizzy curls. He wished he could stroke them. He’d gotten to feel her hair a few times— he’d expected it to be coarse given how voluminous it was, but somehow it was soft and bounced back from his pats in a hypnotizing way.

Hermione cricked her neck, but doggedly kept working on correcting the letters of his essay.

Watching Hermione was always fun— like when she pattered around the library carrying too many books, or bending over to lay out her notes on the ground. His favorite was when she was doing anything mildly academic though. She’d squint in concentration with an expression that made her intelligence seem to beam out and smack Ron right in the heart.

Were smarts supposed to be a turn-on? Ron had never heard anyone talk about a girl’s smarts when bragging about a girl. It tended to be more about what happened below the neck— which was confounding. It’s not that Ron didn’t find all of Hermione attractive— he’d had to stop himself from staring at her legs and bum and down her shirt a few times over the years, not to mention imagining all the things those lips and hands could get up to. But the flash of intelligence in her brown eyes? The way she could perform spells and spout off about some obscure little historical factoid no one else found interesting left him wanting to snog her senseless. Of course, he felt the same when she was barmy and knitting caps for elves, so his standards for attraction were obviously skewed toward the strange.

“There,” said Hermione, some twenty minutes later, handing back his essay.

“Thanks a million,” said Ron, having to hold himself back from embracing her in front of Harry. “Can I borrow your quill for the conclusion?”

As she handed the quill over, their fingers brushed sending a little spark to somewhere in his middle. Yup, he was dead gone.

[END OF CHAPTER 6]

AUTHOR’S NOTE Sorry for the long wait, but hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please let me know by reblogging or commenting! :)

#the wonderful won won #my writing #hp fanfic #ron weasley #romione #lavender brown

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theleftovertaco · 4 years ago

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The Boys in Heels

I decided to go ahead with this hc. I have so many opinions about the boys in heels.

in our lineup today is Fred, George, Draco, Neville, Ron, Harry, and Cedric and Oliver have been added!

Fred

Fred saw you walking around in heels during a school ball and he loved them

Like loved them

Baby boy was simping over you in these pretty sandal shoes, he liked how your legs looked in them

Fred is already a very tall boi, but he still wanted to wear heels

So you dug out that same pair of blue heels and enlarged them slightly to fit his feet

Boy also wanted to paint his toenails to match so why not

He stood up and immediately fell over and then you nearly did laughing

“HELP ME UP!” “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

He grabbed onto your arm and slowly stood up and then taught himself to walk in heels

He looked at himself in your mirror and just started beaming

Spent about ten minutes just looking at his legs

He started strutting around the common room in the heels

After this you got him his own pair in red

George

Georgie was going on a date with you

You walked down from the girls dorms in a pair of pastel yellow heels

George is a softie by nature so he swooned

And he was way into it

“Love you’re so much taller! How do you walk in them?”

He asks if he can wear a pair of yours a couple weeks later.

So you find an older pair of pink heels and enlarge them

He tries them on and immediately does that dinosaur walk that people do when they first wear heels

His legs are all bent and he looks like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time so you narrate it like the old BBC documentary you and him watched together

“The baby giraffe stumbles and falters before-” “SHUT UP YOU”RE MEAN- OH SHIT I THINK IT GOT IT!” “The baby giraffe is successful.” “Must you taunt me?”

You two start dancing around the common room to old music and after he decides he wants to start wearing them often

Eventually when he and his brother open WWW he wears heels on the first day to boost his confidence

The first pair you get him is a set of pastel pink heels and he wears them so much the heel just snaps off at some point

Draco

He saw you in heels before he even really knew you

You had that whole badass aesthetic and wore those high knee style heels

He admired how badass you looked

So he actually went and just bought a similar pair himself a few months after you were together

He surprised you a couple weeks later

“What do you think, love?” “You look fantastic!”

Maybe it’s the whole rich pureblood thing, where they teach him to act and talk but he actually already knows how to walk and act in heels

It was actually Narcissa, he observed how his mother walked and started to model it

Draco doesn’t wear them super often, he just pulls them out when he doesn’t feel as confident

Probably pulls out a skirt as well

But not too often since he finds heels to painful

“Wimp.” “Hey, I’m delicate.”

Over time, he buys other heels, mostly in black and green

But he always comes back to those first ones

Neville

Neville was always a little intimidated by you

You wore these dark combat boot style heels

And you were always so confident

You just put out that vibe of “Do not fuck with me”

Whereas his vibe was like “Hey, you could probably pour soup in my lap and I’d apologize to you”

So even after he’d gotten to know you it took a long time

You brought it up because he was always staring at yours

He was very sheepish, but eventually agreed

Now, contrary to popular belief, Neville is actually pretty tall, so he didn’t want anything that would make him stand out too much

So you found a tiny little kitten heel style thing

He was insecure about the noise the heels made, so you placed a spell so that the heels wouldn’t make the little click clacking sound when he walked

First day he wore them, he looked insecure, so you convinced a couple other girls to walk around with the two of you and all of you shower him with compliments

He’s bright red the whole day but the smile never leaves his face

After, he gets more confident and starts buying more heels

Harry

Harry saw a pair of red pumps in Hogsmeade by himself and bought a pair saying they were for his girlfriend

“You’re girlfriend has big feet” “You’ve got something to say about my girlfriend?” “No, mate, sorry.”

He kept them at the bottom of his trunk, he never thought you would find it

You were helping him reorganize his trunk and he completely forgot it was there

You pulled them out and he snatched them back almost immediately

“What are these?” “NOTHING! They’re nothing!” “They look like a pair of heels.”

He just stuttered for about a minute before confessing

“I thought you would have a problem.” “Why the hell would I have a problem?”

By the time you found out he’d learned to walk in them and eventually you convinced him to wear them in front of you

So far it’s more of a you and him thing but he’ll get out there eventually

Ron

Ron’s height is similar to the twins so he already towered over most people

But he was just slightly shorter than his brothers

And it bothered him

They always poked fun at him for it “how’s the weather down there” “I’m only a little shorter than you two!” “Couldn’t hear you from up here, sorry Ronniekins!”

So you offered the idea that he should wear heels

Initially he does it as a joke

Staggers into the Great Hall wearing six inch black heels and makes a comment about the twins height

But soon he finds that he kind of likes the heels, likes how confident they make him feel

“I see why women wear them. They’re painful as hell but I feel powerful.”

Over time he starts wearing them more

He rolled his ankle once though in an incident and stayed away from them for about a month

But when he got back into them he was as active as ever

But he’s never running in them again

Never. Again.

Cedric

Cedrics a pretty boy

We been knew

But he initially did it on a dare, you and your housemates dared him to wear them for a day since he had never known the pain of walking around for 8+ hours in heels

So he shows up to the first school dance of the year in 5 inch black stilettos and a suit

Big mistake on his part

He twisted an ankle 5 seconds in

You had to half carry him to Madame Pomphrey and you both spent the first 20 minutes of the dance in the hospital wing while his ankle healed

But after that he started wearing them a little more often

He was always getting dared to do stuff so he started trying stunts in his heels

It began with just running but he tried to jump and that was successful and now he cartwheels around the castle in heels sometimes and you are very worried he’ll end up with broken legs

You find him a pair of comfortable heels (those two words are antonyms) and he now prefers those

You still worry he will hurt himself

“Are you about to jump off that tree and land in heels again?” “No?” And then the fucker jumps

But sometimes he just wears them for fun because he likes them

Oliver

Oliver is a very athletic boy

He never really things about the idea of feeling pretty

But he saw you wearing those like sneaker heels that don’t really look like sneakers

Or rather he just noticed that you were taller

So he asked if he could wear a similar pair cause he’s always been a little insecure about his height

He’s not even short (not that it matters) but still

So you let him borrow them

And we walks into the common room with so much goddamn confidence

After that he wears a pair of heeled boots and feels 10 times better

He wears them to a quidditch game once and when he kicks a quaffle away from the highest hoop he punches a hole it the ball

So because of him heels are now banned during quidditch

But other than that he’s doing great with the heels

Wears them around an to class, the noise the louder ones make draws attention to him that he really likes

You can hear him coming before you see him

Although Madame Pince did not seem to appreciate that

Oh well, you win some you lose some

Besides, Ollies happy, and he looks beautiful, so what else could you ask for?

I’m gonna try to get the makeup one done during the weekend, let me know what else you want me to do! Send me an ask, I fully accept requests!

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 4 years ago

Text

We Can (Un)Do It

In which there is a marriage law which needs to be undone. Drinny, post-war.

It’s not hard, for anyone, to note that the war has drained Draco Malfoy. Drained him of the pride he had once had, drained his family of the prestige they had once held. Drained a young boy of the youth he had had.

Even so, to Ginevra Weasley, it’s painfully obvious. She knows what he was like before the war—who he truly was. She had loved that person, held him, seen him. She had seen him struggle through the war too, pretending to be a Death Eater for the sake of his mother’s life when in reality he was, like anyone else, just another student caught in the crossfire. She knew, better than anyone, how much bravery it had taken for him to change sides in the battle, to go against Voldemort despite his fear for his mother’s life. But he had done it. And he had done a lot more. He had nursed students back to health, rescued them from the preying Carrow twins and from the ruthless prefects.

In her eyes, he is as much a hero as anyone else. If he had had a real choice, she knows he would have chosen to fight with them. He was just a victim of circumstances, like so many people around them. But that doesn't stop people from treating him and other Slytherins like shit. Cursing them when they are off-guard, flooding their dormitory, calling them slurs. It makes Ginny’s blood boil. But Draco doesn't do anything about it, just bears it all with a blank face, never wavering.

Never wavering except when he catches her looking at him at breakfast in the Great Hall, asking him silently about the bruise on his chin; except when she leaves the Gryffindor table to go eat with him; except when she glares down everyone who as much as looks at him wrong. Then his face has the slightest flicker of emotion—something warm akin to a smile. She knows he dislikes her defending him, but she also knows that if she doesn't, she will one day wake up to the news of his death.

___________________

That morning he enters the Great Hall looking particularly pale—pronounced bags under his eyes, and a particularly nastly looking gash on his cheek. It looks raw and recent—although no blood is flowing from it—as if it has been treated, but couldn't be glamoured. They love giving him scars that can't be hidden, that take a long time to heal. It makes her sick.

“Oh, I bet he loves that, another tattoo to go with his mark,” someone down the Gryffindor table snickers, and a bunch of fourth and fifth years burst into laughter.

Ginny cannot quite make out who it is that had said it, but she stiffens quite suddenly, gripping her fork tightly in one hand, the other reflexively reaching for her wand. Neville catches her eye from across her, looking just as livid as she feels. Luna nudges her foot from beside her however, a warning—she has already been in far too many altercations this year, and it’s only the end of September.

She gets up suddenly enough that a bunch of people look in her direction and quieten down, but a lot of them keep going until Hermione—Head Girl, of course—screams at them, red hot anger pouring into her voice, “Detention, Smith. For the rest of the year. Move. It.”

Ginny ignores the looks she gets as she steps away from the Gryffindor table to go to the Slytherin table—curious glances, subtle smirks, gaping mouths and contemptuous glares. The table is a lot quieter than the others, almost entirely silent except for the sound of cutlery. They make room around Draco when she approaches, almost out of reflex. They are used to her sitting between them now. Not entirely comfortable, no, but used to it.

Her and Draco don't talk while he eats, but the question she wants to ask is mutually understood. It's also mutually known, although grudgingly, that he is not going to answer it. She asks it anyway once they have left the Great Hall.

“Who?”

“It doesn't matter.”

She stops walking for a moment, closing her eyes in exasperation. Draco stops a few steps ahead.

“Draco ... ” she starts, then stops, sighing. She walks up to him instead, taking his hand in her own and nearly dragging him into an empty classroom. She dimly notes that it's the out-of-use Transfiguration classroom on the third floor.

She leans against the door once she’s closed it, looking at Draco who is leaning on a desk, a finger gently feeling about the scar. She moves towards him slowly, stopping once she is standing inches away from him and he is looking right at her, eyes soft. He leans his head towards her as she reaches up to inspect the wound, red and angry and hot, stretching from the middle of his left cheek down to his jawline.

“You should go see Madame Pomphrey instead of patching them up yourself,” she says, voice quiet. “She’s always helped students.”

Draco hums but doesn't reply. Ginny takes her hand away from his face and instead takes his own, thumb brushing gently over it, and he finally heaves a soft sigh and relaxes, his stiff demeanour ebbing. Neither move or speak for a few moments before he says, “You need to stop sitting at the Slytherin table.”

Ginny closes her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for the argument to follow. The one they have been having ever since school had restarted, ever since she had declared that she wasn't going to hide what they were anymore, not from Hogwarts, not from her family, not from the world. It’s almost a ritual at this point.

“No,” she says, opening her eyes. “No, I don't. It’s them. They need to start treating people like people.”

“Gin ...” he sighs, freeing his hand and rubbing his face, mindful of his injury. “You can't put yourself in the line of fire like this. I can't let you.”

“And I can't let you be walked over by everyone. Especially since you refuse to do anything about it.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, exasperation written on his face, “it’s got a political aspect now, you don't understand! The Wizarding World of Britain is watching all your moves. You can't be seen fraternizing with the enemy. Nor can Granger and Longbottom and Lovegood. All of you need to stop.”

“You are not the enemy, Draco. You were with us all along. And the other Slytherins … Daphne and Millicent and Terence … they didn't have a choice either. They had nowhere to go. They were students like anyone else." She purses her lips. "It's hypocritical to not treat the Slytherin students like the other students, who were just trying to get by the war like any other from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."

Draco scoffs lightly, looking down at his hands. "Slytherins have never been treated the way the others have. And we liked it too, until the war. It's been a given for too long that Slytherins are different, and we've never tried to change it. We made our bed," he lifts his head to look at her, and finds that her honey-brown eyes are glowing in the filtered light coming from the windows. "Now we have to lie in it."

Ginny shakes her head as chatter and footsteps rise in the corridor outside the classroom. Draco lifts his hand to check the time. “The first class is about to start,” he says, “we should get going. It’ll take a while to get down to the Dungeons.”

___________________

They are grouped in four to a table for the double potions class. Professor Slughorn is mindful enough of his students’ plight that he only ever groups the Slytherin students together. It's even better that there are only four of them.

Ginny herself is with Hermione, Jones, and Smith—a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor from her year. She glares at Smith as he takes his seat at the table, perfectly aware of how Hermione is also giving him a seething look and how Jones looks acutely uncomfortable being caught between them. Smith ignores them the best of his ability as they set about making their Amortentia.

It's only when she whiffs the familiar smell of parchment and cologne from her cauldron that she is convinced that her potion is complete. Suddenly the entire classroom smells like Draco, even though he is at the opposite end of the class. She smiles when he looks up at her, as if they were sharing a secret. She only looks away when Hermione nudges her foot, mirth in her eyes, and motions towards professor Slughorn, who is standing before her equally amused. Someone beside her scoffs but she ignores it.

When they are packing up after the class, she hears the scoff again, followed by a blur of brown hair coming within her line of sight.

“You would do well to stay away from Death Eaters and Slytherins, Ginny,” Smith says seriously even as she ignores him. “You can't be fraternizing with the dark side. You never know when they might turn on you.” She finally turns around and glares, but Smith remains unfazed, continuing in a somewhat mysterious tone, “besides, things are changing. You don't know what might happen.”

She doesn't stop glaring until he has left the class, and it's only her and Hermione left, Draco having left for his Ancient Runes class.

“Don't pay him mind Ginny,” Hermione says to her as she gathers the rest of Ginny’s parchment and puts them in her bag. “He’s an idiot.” She looks at the empty doorway. “An entitled idiot.”

___________________

“I talked to Percy today,” Hermione says as she settles in her bed, curtains drawn open so that Ginny can see her with her book in her lap. She has her own room, being Head Girl, but she prefers being with other people around.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to know about the workings of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he mentioned something that I found a bit … worrying?”

Ginny turns away from the mirror and looks at her inquiringly. “It’s about a law,” Hermione continues quietly, “a law about marriage.”

“About marriage?” Ginny frowns, as a quiet node of worry grows in her belly. She has heard about those before. The last one had been imposed right after the first Wizarding War, to repopulate the Wizarding World. Her mum used to talk about how arbitrary it was, and how glad she was she had married Dad before the law had come out.

Hermione nods. “Percy said they have been developing the law for a while now. Their official reasoning is to “Keep the Wizarding World alive and to end the House disparities, seeing the attacks on people from pureblood families.” She grimaces. “He told me to warn others about it,” she pauses, then sighs deeply. “The Ministry is going to be making the matches this time. Anyone who doesn't follow might be persecuted.”

Ginny drops the hairbrush she had been holding, sinking into her bed. Ministry matches. End disparities. Persecution. Fuck. She turns to Hermione slowly, breathing heavily through her mouth.

“Oh, Ginny,” Hemione sighs softly, making her way over to her, “I’m so sorry. I know you and Draco …” Ginny belatedly realizes that she is trembling. Hermione wraps her arms around her.

___________________

Ginny doesn't sleep that night. This isn't unusual—sleeplessness is an old friend—but the thought of the Marriage law sends her deeper and deeper into angst. She could be married to anyone. Anyone. That person had a very high chance of not being Draco. She doesn't think she could bear it—not after everything they've been through together, not after how he was her last link to sanity throughout last year. It takes all she has to stifle her almost-sobs. It hurts. Her head hurts from trying not to cry.

She hadn't thought she would get married so young. She had hoped to wait it out until she was in her late-twenties, until she had a stable life, a stable career. She had, at the very least, hoped to have the choice. To have a say in it. But the Ministry wants children. She doesn't want children—not so soon. She’s a child herself!

It's finally around three in the morning that she decides to get out of bed. She doesn't know where she is going, really, but she wants—needs—to move about. To do something. It's about quarter of an hour later that hse finds herself in the library, perusing bookshelves on Magical Laws. Creature Laws; Criminal Laws; Civil Laws; Marriage Laws. Her hand trembles as she pulls the books out from the shelf, sets them down on the floor, and sits down beside them herself.

“Lumos.”

___________________

“Ginny, where have you been?” Hermione calls out to her from where she is seated on the Gryffindor table, Luna beside her. Ginny sits down across from her, pouring herself milk as she looks at her friends curiously. There is a strange sort of worry on their face. Belatedly she notes the copy of Daily Prophet lying on the table, front page up, showing the face of a ministry employee, and a loud headline below it. The hall is unusually abuzz. She had thought it would be a few days before it comes out, maybe give her more time to research … but now …

"It's here," Hermione says to her, but Ginny isn't listening. She is looking instead towards the table at the far end of the hall, at the boy with pale skin and blonde hair who is looking back at her with the same look of worry that is being reflected across the student body.

“We’ll get the letters anytime now,” Luna says, and it startles Ginny to hear the worry in it. It’s too soon, too much. Far too much for her to take. She gets up and all but runs outside, Hermione’s call ringing after her.

She winds up on the banks of the lake, in a rocky part shielded from direct view. She needs to think. Her head is hurting again. She needs to get away from all of this, from everything. Maybe this is a nightmare. She just needs to wake up. Wake up!

“Hey,” a voice calls from behind her, soft and hoarse, and she doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Draco. She doesn't respond—her voice is too heavy.

He grimaces and sits beside her, hand reaching out and taking hers. He looks at her with an uncertain expression as she wipes her face with her other hand. She doesn't know what to say, and she doesn't think he does either. He removes a copy of the prophet from his robes, setting it on the ground before her. She looks away.

“I don't want to read it,” she says.

“They are going to send the matches. We have until the end of the year to get married, until we turn nineteen to conceive.”

Ginny bites her lip, breathing in deeply. She swallows. “I know. Hermione told me.”

She looks away from him, staring instead at the clear blue waters of the lake and the errant fishes swimming through it. It's a nice day—clear, calm, sunny—everything opposite to what she feels. Draco’s thumb rubs abstract notings against her hand, and their fingers are entwined. They fit perfectly against one another. They are perfect for one another. But they want to take away this too—take away love. The thought finally breaks her resolve, tears falling from her eyes hot and fast, and she is sobbing.

“Oh, Gin,” Draco mumbles against the top of her head as he draws her towards him, and she cries out her frustration while he rubs familiar patterns on her back.

___________________

It's during lunch that the letters arrive, in a flurry of hundreds of owls swooping before years fifth to eighth.

Ginny is not at lunch, nor is Draco. They haven't strayed from their spot for the past few hours, although it feels to Ginny like a lifetime. She tenses up as she sees the parliament enter the great hall, eyes focusing on the two that are flying right towards them. Draco tightens his hold on her, not that he needs to—her nails are digging into his palms.

The two owls swoop before them with a flourish, hooting softly at them. When the two receivers don't move to take their letters, one of them pecks at Ginny's hand indignantly. Draco reaches out with a trembling hand to undo the strings and retrieve the envelopes with the ministry seal on it, although neither try to open them.

The owls fly away, in a flurry of brown feathers, still hooting, as the two teenagers look at the desolate envelopes lying on the ground. It would be easy to burn them, Ginny thinks. Easy to burn them to ashes and never find out. Maybe they should just run away. Away from everything where they can have peace and quiet and each other. The envelopes, however, open by themselves when a few minutes have passed, and their contents fly neatly to the respective receivers hovering near them until they are literally in their face.

"Let's just get it done with," Draco says, "get it done with so that we can accept our sentence."

Ginny takes the letter with a sigh.

' … will need to marry by the end of the year 1999 …'

'... must conceive by the year 2000 …'

'... Failure to comply will result in snapping of wand …'

'... ministry has decided that you are to partner with Seamus Finnigan, half-blood, Gryffindor, year eight.'

She stares at the letter for a moment, then two, then three, before she whips out her wand and sets it on fire.

Seamus. Seamus Finnigan. She doesn't know if she should laugh or cry. She can only imagine his plight. Poor boy.

Draco's letter has drifted to the ground and he is staring at it without actually looking.

"Seamus Finnigan," Ginny says carefully, and Draco lifts his head to look at her. He hesitates a moment before he says, "Luna Lovegood."

Ginny shuts her eyes for a moment, then lets out a mirthless laugh.

"This is a joke," she says finally, "a joke. Both of them are gay! Luna could never … poor Seamus. He and Dean are in love and the Ministry had to come along and ruin it. Ruin it all."

She doesn't notice the tears that have begun rolling down her face again until Draco wipes them off.

"We …" he starts, then stops. "There has to be something we can do … some way we can stop this. It makes no sense! There must be a contradictory law or—"

"There isn't."

Draco stops mid-sentence, looking at her with eyebrows raised.

"I looked through the books in the library; I tried summoning more books; I asked Hermione, there's nothing anywhere." She looks up at him. "There's nothing we can do."

She looks away again, drawing away from Draco as she gets up. "We'll have to submit to our sentence, like you said."

"Gin." He looks up at her in alarm, eyes wide, tone scared.

She bites her lip to stop more tears from coming. She needs to leave. Now.

"Gin, no!"

Draco's hand on her wrist prevents her from leaving, and deep down she is glad. She cannot lie to herself. She could never leave him this way. He turns her around so that she is facing him, a hand grasping her shoulder, the other cupping her face, and his eyes are shining.

"We'll do something. There are more books on laws in my family library, and Hogwarts doesn't have too much on laws anyway. It must be based on some old laws … all laws have contradictions. And no one could possibly be happy about this." He takes a deep breath. "We can do this, Gin, just—" he swallows. " Just don't leave me."

She closes her eyes, all but falling onto him.

“I could never.”

___________________

The school seems to be moping at every turn that Ginny takes. Only rarely does she find a happy face. No one is happy. No one was prepared for this. Hermione looks up when she enters the dorm, and the two girls take a single moment to acknowledge the puffy eyes and tear tracks.

Ginny sits at the edge of Hermione’s bed. “Seamus.”

Hermione stares for a moment, then shakes her head. “Mclaggen.” she sighs. “I’ve been hiding from him.” she tries to laugh, but it comes out watery. “I had wanted a career, you know. Not children at the age of nineteen. And not with Mclaggen. That damned Ministry—” she doesn't bother finishing the sentence—she doesn't have to. Everyone is thinking it. “I should just disappear to the Muggle world,” she sighs, “somewhere far away … Australia? Live in a small town. Work in a library. Sounds nice, doesn't it?” she turns to look at Ginny.

She nods. It does.“I was with Draco,” Ginny says, picking on a loose thread in Hermione’s comforter. Hermione hums. “He said we can overthrow the law. There are always contradictory laws … and the ministry can't impose something like this on us if we are all against it anyway …”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Draco is having his mum send some books from their family library. We need your help, drafting a contradiction, a petition. If it comes to it, a rebellion.”

“Any action against the law can result in Azkaban, Ginny.”

Ginny scoffs. “The life they are imposing on us is no less than Azkaban either. And anyway,” she looks up, “we are war heroes. They can't go against us.”

Hermione looks into Ginny’s flashing eyes. Slowly, her lips curl up in a smirk.

___________________

The Ministry’s Wizarding Marriage (Amendment) Act 1998 Scrapped, Wizarding World rejoices.

- by Jeremy Fuller

The Ministry on wednesday announced the scrapping of the Marriage Law enacted last month. This move came up as a result of the efforts of War heroes Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley opposing the law. Draco Malfoy had presented the contradicting bill from his seat in Wizengamot which was backed up by big powers of the Ministry. The law had been very unpopular with the majority of the populace, and had resulted in many disagreements between the ministry and the people. it's believed that the Minister had been threatened with an uprising by the Chosen One—Harry Potter—himself.

The Law was criticized by many intellectuals and members of the Wizengamot as insensitive, sexist, and homophobic. Healers from St. Mungo’s had criticized it as an added burden to a barely recovering society. “It would have hurt the people already suffering from the effects of the war even more (for the full interview with Healer Grahams, turn to page 8).

The Wizarding World is celebrating the scrapping of the law in the Diagon Alley. The students of Hogwarts are also reported to be very happy (for full article, turn to page 4).

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #drinny #draco and ginny #draco x ginny #dg fics #drinny fics #draco malfoy #ginny weasley #post war #au #marriage law fic #hermioneaubreymiachase #the dark enchantress ruhi #ruhi's writings

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hh-rose · 4 years ago

Text

James Potter and the Retelling of the True Story Chapter Two: Post Prank

ao3

masterpost

It was the end of fourth year, and the infamous fight had happened. I hadn't known about the prank before it happened. I know that I had done some messed up stuff in the past, but I wouldn't have done that, and I certainly wouldn't have let Sirius get away with it if I knew about it. It wasn't that I was trying to defend Snape. I thought (and still think) that Snape deserves all the worst things to happen to him. But Remus. Remus is one of the few people in the world who should never have to face any horrible things happening to them ever.

I just had to convince you that I wasn't involved in the prank at all, so you can imagine how hard it was to convince the people in my life. I don't want to seem like I'm bragging or anything, but I did save Snape's life after all. I don't think I would have done that if I was involved in the planning.

The first thing I did after saving Snape and taking him to the infirmary was check on Remus who was also in the infirmary at that point. He was still asleep and he didn't know what happened yet.

"James," he rasped when he woke up. "Something happened last night. What happened? Was it bad? Did I hurt someone?"

"Woah, one question at a time bud," I said, handing him a healing potion. "Drink this and I'll tell you everything."

I don't even want to think about the look on his face when I told him. He was completely and utterly shocked. He was heartbroken, the poor kid. I mean, I was heartbroken too, but not nearly as heartbroken as he was (as I was not in love with the person who just betrayed me).

"Are you okay?" I asked when I was done explaining the story. "Well, no, of course, you're not okay. That's to be expected, but how are you feeling? What do you need?"

"I, um, I--" he began, but it was clear that he wasn't going to get anything out. Just then, the infirmary door opened. Remus saw who it was first, and I watched him turn green. I turned around to see a very distraught Sirius standing there.

"Remus," he breathed out. I looked at Remus for a second before storming over to Sirius and forcing him into the corridor. "Potter, what the hell? I need to apologize."

"No, you need to give him space right now," I said angrily. "You need to give him whatever he needs. This isn't about you and making you feel better. It is about him. It's all about him from now on. Whatever he wants, he gets it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Sirius replied, becoming complacent. He looked like what he looked like when his parents would yell at him. I hated when he looked like that, but he deserved it.

"What the actual fuck were you thinking?" I asked. Sirius was very taken aback. "No, tell me because I need to understand. I need to know what could have possibly possessed you to do that to him. To Remus. To our friend. To your...to your...well to your Remus! How could you do that to him?"

"I don't know!" he yelled back. "I don't know, okay? I was just so mad at Sniv for saying yet another horrible thing about muggleborns and 'halfbreeds,' and I just wanted him to suffer."

"You didn't think about how Remus would suffer too?" I asked, completely appalled. I took a breath. "What would you have done if Remus hurt him?"

"He wasn't going to hurt him," Sirius stated, but he didn't seem sure. "He was just going to scare him. I wasn't going to let anything happen."

"I can't talk to you right now," I said after that beautiful response.

"I need to apologize to him," he begged.

"Well, after what you just said to me, I think you need to work on what you're going to say to him," I stated. "Just stay away from him. Wait for him to come to you."

I left him in the corridor after that. I knew that Remus wasn't going to admit it, but he needed me. He was just sitting in his bed staring at Snape. I sat down next to him.

"How are you feeling? If you feel better, we should ask Pomphrey if you can leave. You shouldn't have to sit here with him," I said.

"Are they going to kick me out?" he asked. He was so so scared, and I didn't have an answer. I wanted to protect him. All I wanted at that moment was to take all his pain away. I felt absolutely horrible, and there was nothing I could do. So, I did what I could do, and I took him up to our dorm and made sure that Sirius didn't bother him.

...

They didn't kick Remus out of school (obviously), but that didn't really solve everything. Snape had stopped bothering Remus and Lily as much because he was scared of what had happened. That also hadn't helped at all. Remus was terrified every day that Snape would tell everyone, and Snape's weird behavior made Lily question the situation.

"What did you do to Sev?" she asked me one day in the library. I figured that he didn't tell her the full story because he was embarrassed.

"I didn't do anything, Evans, and I'm trying to study," I answered, not looking up from my book. She stayed there staring at me. "What do you need? I didn't do anything to the slimy git."

"Well, I know that Sirius was involved, so I'm willing to bet that you were too," she said. Now, this girl was (and is) the love of my life, but when she said that, I saw red, and I just flipped my shit.

"Just because Sirius did something horrible, it doesn't mean that I was involved. He did something awful, and I would never do that. The fact that you think that I would do such a thing just because my best friend was involved clearly shows that you're just as prejudiced as the rest of this bloody school," I spat out angrily. I picked up my books and stood up. "I'm sorry for the disturbance, Madam Pince."

"James," Lily started. "I'm sorry."

"Forget about it."

...

Remus told me that I could forgive Sirius, but I told him point blank that I wouldn't until he did. Peter sympathized with both parties, and he tried his best to be nice to both of them. I couldn't blame him for that; he was always kind of like that.

It wasn't that Sirius wasn't trying to make amends. He was. He apologized daily. Each and every one was sincere. He didn't just apologize though. He showed he was sorry. He wasn't getting into any trouble, and he was getting good grades in class. He was also not sleeping or eating. Neither was Remus. They were both a mess.

I knew full well that it was because they needed each other, but they were both too stubborn to admit that. Also, the ball was completely in Remus's court. It was all up to him.

"Rem," Sirius said one day while Remus was playing chess with Peter, and Sirius and I were sitting on opposite ends of the couch not talking in the common room. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

"Sirius," I started.

"No," Remus said, looking at me. "I don't need you to yell at him again. I'll do it." He turned his attention toward Sirius for the first time in weeks. "Stop fucking apologizing to me. I'm not going to forgive you. I'm not, and you don't deserve it. So stop. Please."

Remus stood up and began to walk away, and Sirius just sat there.

"I…" Sirius croaked, clearly taken aback by the first words Remus had uttered to him in a long time. Remus turned around and stared at him expectantly. "I don't apologize for you to forgive me. I apologize so that you know that I feel bad. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but you don't deserve bad things to happen to you. I need you to understand that this never should have happened to you. Nobody should ever hurt you." Everyone just stared at him. "You should stay down here and play with Pete. I'll go up to the dorm."

Sirius left and Remus sat back down. Nobody said anything else. We all just sat there and stared. I looked at Remus, and he just stared at the floor.

"Are you...I mean, you don't have to, but…" I began. He stared at me, completely shell-shocked. He stood up abruptly.

"I'm going to talk to him."

"Yeah," I said, feeling relieved.

Now, obviously, I didn't see this first hand, but Remus and Sirius both gave me their sides of the story afterward. So, Remus went upstairs to the dorm to find Sirius sobbing in his bed.

"Sirius," Remus said. Nothing. "Sirius, can you please look at me? I'm not here to yell at you. I'm tired of being mad at you."

"You should stay mad at me forever. I deserve it," Sirius replied through tears.

"Oh, quit being so melodramatic," Remus said with an eye roll. Sirius smiled slightly at him. "I forgive you, okay? I forgave you a long time ago. I can never stay mad at you, and you know that. No matter how much I hate it, I can never stay mad at you."

"Then why did you ignore me for so long?" Sirius asked, wiping away his tears. Remus smiled at him.

"I like to make you squirm, you twat," Remus joked. He sobered. "It also took me a while to understand. I didn't get what I did to make you hurt me like that. I didn't get it. I realized that it was never about me, and it was always about Snape, but that didn't exactly make me feel better. You betrayed me for a silly prank, and that hurt a lot."

"It wasn't a prank. I would never hurt you because of a prank," Sirius said, but he immediately wanted to take it back. Remus stared at him expectantly. "I should never hurt you, no matter what the reason. This isn't an excuse. I need you to know it's not an excuse, but the reason that I did it was because Sniv kept saying that you deserved to have scars. He said that you deserved to be tortured, and I just wanted him to hurt because of that. You are so perfect and amazing, and you don't deserve anything bad, and it was killing me that anyone would say that. But, in trying to avenge you or whatever, I ended up hurting you."

"Oh," Remus said. He sat down on the bed next to Sirius. "You always do the right thing for the wrong reason, don't you, Black."

"I'm so sorry, Rem," Sirius said again just to really drive the point home.

"I'm well aware of that," Remus said, putting an arm around him to pull him in for a side hug. Sirius yawned. "Tired?"

"Yeah, I, um, I haven't been able to sleep since everything," Sirius said, trailing off.

"Neither have I," Remus admitted. He looked down at Sirius. "How about we have a lie-down?"

"Really?" Sirius asked, eyes lighting up. Remus smiled.

"Really," Remus replied, lying down in Sirius's bed. Sirius laid on Remus's chest. They were both asleep in minutes. They didn't exactly tell me about the nap part, but I was the one who found them sleeping, so I didn't need to be told. I slept soundly for the first time in weeks that night. We all did. Things were looking up, and we were all young and happy.

#James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Lily Potter #Harry Potter #peter pettigrew #Marauders #wolfstar #jilly

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useless-slytherclaw · 5 years ago

Link

Sirius is sitting up on the Astronomy tower. He dangles his feet over the edge and stares up at the sky. Sirius hates the night sky; the stars remind him of his family, and the moon makes him think of Remus’ suffering. Right now, though, he’s thinking of his family as he watches cigarette smoke curl up into the sky. His legs hurt where they’re pressed against the stones. No matter how much he shifts, he can’t alleviate the pain from the wounds. His mother’s warnings are echoing around his head. He’s starting to think that she might actually kill him one of these days.

He’s too caught up in his thoughts to hear footsteps approaching. He jumps when a voice comes from beside him.

“Are you going to hide up here all night?”

Remus sits next to Sirius. He reaches out and takes Sirius’ hand. Sirius smiles at his boyfriend, who has been following Sirius up this tower for the last five years.

“I just...” Sirius doesn’t know what to say. Even to Moony. I think my mother might kill me? I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m scared. What if she’s right about me? She says that you guys will get tired of me. I know I’m annoying. I’m scared. He doesn’t say any of this.

Remus watches him in silence. He wiggles closer to Sirius. He moves as if to embrace Sirius, but lets his arm fall.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Remus says gently. Suddenly, Sirius remembers a day, almost exactly five years ago. Sirius’ mother had sent a howler after his sorting, and he had been huddled on his bed, trying not to cry. Remus had crawled right onto his bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pressed into his side and said you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Sirius admits, pressing himself into Remus’ side. He winces as his legs move against the stone. Sirius sees a flash in Remus’ eyes and knows that the other boy saw him wince. Remus will probably drag him to the hospital wing tomorrow, where Madam Pomphrey will politely not ask any questions. They sit in silence for a long time, and eventually Remus puts his arm around Sirius.

“Whatever she said,” Remus says suddenly. Sirius jerks in surprise. “Don’t look at me like that. You always look the same after she sends you a letter or when you’re doubting yourself.”

Sirius shifts uncomfortably, then winces at the pain in his legs. He doesn’t like the idea of being so transparent, even to Remus.

“Sirius.” Remus turns and looks directly into Sirius’ eyes and rests a hand on Sirius’ cheek. Their faces are inches apart now. “You know that I love you, right? Whatever you are worrying about. Whatever problems you have. You are loved.”

Sirius just stares into those forest green eyes, but he’s not sure what he’s searching for. A punchline? A joke? But all he sees is sincerity and concern. And all at once he’s overwhelmed. Love? In 15 years, his parents have never said that they love him. James has said some shit about “I love you guys.” But no one has ever told Sirius that they love him. His eyes are burning, and he throws his arms around Remus. He can’t talk, his throat is too tight, so he just holds Remus as tight as he can and hopes that the other boy understands what he can’t say: I love you too.

“Always loved”

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mastrmiscellaneous · 5 years ago

Text

Rowan, I’ll Miss you

Sorry I don’t post a lot anymore, got a lot to do in personal life, and, well, motivation is scarce. I was just struck with motivation after the new chapters though heheh

Summary: Do NOT. Touch. Charli. Rowe’s. Friends. EVER.

Charli is impulsive, and when her best friend is maliciously murdered, well, shit happens.

Word Count: 2845

-----

the four students stood in the centre of an opening in the Forbidden Forest, Rakepick in front of them, her wand pointed at Ben, with a malicious grin on her face. With one last look at Charli, a smug look from the adult to the teen, she shouted the curse.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A green stream of electric light shot from the end of her wand, right at Ben.

Charli held her breath, she heard Merula doing the same.

Charli felt a swift of breeze blow on her cheek.

Long robes were moving, flowing in front of Ben.

No, not robes…

Rowan…

No. No no nononono!!!

-----

Thud.

Rowan was on the ground. The world went silent, nothing but a high-pitched buzz. Charli could faintly hear a chuckle from Rakepick, and shuffling of leaves as she ran. Charli couldn’t see anything except Rowan, it was tunnel vision. Thick tears welled up in her eyes as she stumbled to her feet, trying to run to her best friend’s side.

She barely made it two steps. She fell to her knees and crawled the last few feet, wailing, tears flowing like waterfalls, shouting, screaming, yelling for her friend. She reached out to touch Rowan’s face, but could already feel the cold radiating from their cheeks. She recoiled her hand, grasping her own wrist and biting down on her hand, trying to muffle her cries. Nothing worked.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, a large, heavy hand. Ben’s hand. The boy Rowan had given their life for. The one who should be dead.

So, Charli threw her arm back and elbowed him right in the solar plexus, winding the boy, and sending him backwards. He was crying too. Charli knew why, she understood, but he was not allowed near her, he didn’t deserve to be near her.

“Charli? What was that for?” Ben mumbled, still struggling to breathe.

“Stay away from us!” Charli snapped, growling, shaking, breathing so heavily, she almost passed out.

“Rowe, calm down,” Merula warned, helping Ben up, wiping tears of her own. “I know you’re upset, but we need to get Rowan out of here.”

Charli didn’t answer. She heard some rustling in the bushes, and crouched over Rowan, scooping up their body onto her lap and pulling out her wand.

The head of houses, plus Dumbledore, ran into the clearing, wands drawn and ready to fight.

They saw the seen before them, and there were audible gasps from McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick. Snape’s hand was shaking, eyes wide. Dumbledore sighed, seeing the scene before him. He turned to Merula as McGonagall and Sprout ran to Charli and Rowan. Merula was the calmest of the three, so was the only one able to give a coherent answer. Merula explained what happened, and Dumbledore has Snape take the two teens back to the castle, and send a message to the ministry and Khannas.

McGonagall and Sprout attempted to pry Charli away from her friend, but it was impossible, Charli had an iron grip, curled over her friend. The tried force, they tried persuasion, they tried tempting, anything they could think of to make the girl let go, but nothing worked.

What could they say? A Rowe never gives in, they knew that. They couldn’t think of anything to do. So they looked up to Dumbledore, who was watching, frowning, thinking. He gestured for the women to stand to the side, and they complied. Charli felt the movement, and looked up, turned around slightly, and saw the headmaster, wand out.

“Sorry Charli.” He muttered. Charli turned back around and let out one last sob, hugging Rowan, as she heard the final words. “Stupefy.”

Charli went limp, and collapsed on top of her Rowan. That was the last time she saw their eyes.

----------

She awoke in the hospital wing the morning after, immediately sitting up and looking around. There were two other bed occupied, by Ben and Merula, who were getting checked over and healing mild injuries. Charli scowled at Ben, growling under her breath.

Where was Rowan?

She scanned the room once more. The curtains were closed around the last bed on the right side of the room. She could hear soft cries from the other side, clearly Rowan’s parents.

Now, she knew this was rude. She knew she really should have just stayed in bed and waited to be allowed to see them again. But, well, grief really does give you tunnel vision.

Charli looked at the others in the room, and back at the curtain. No one was watching her. So, she morphed into her animagus form, a jackal, and crept to under the beds and across the middle, pressed against the wall. She snook behind the curtain and looked at Rowan’s parents. Both of them had their heads on the bed, by Rowan’s sides, and crying. Charli squished against the wall and under the bed. She lay down, head on paws, and just lay there, ready to pounce if anyone disturbed them.

--------

After 10 minutes, the great, oaken doors swung open and the rest of the curse breaking squad, along with Ismelda for Merula, ran in, and towards their friends. They stayed quiet, as to be respectful, but Charli’s improved jackal hearing heard every word. Just fussing about the two, questions of the night before, crying, mourning. Things you would expect from people who had just lost a friend.

But then, Charli’s name was mentioned.

“Where’s Charli?” Barnaby asked, through sniffs.

It was then Madame Pomphrey noticed her absence, and huffed, angry, marching over to Rowan’s bed. She stopped and called out, quietly, asking if she could enter. Mr Khanna muttered an ok, and Pomphrey slid in, careful not to open the curtain too much.

“Have you seen Charli Rowe?”

Charli assumed they shook their heads. she panicked, and dashed out the way she came in, quickly and quietly, her new slender form running through the infirmary smoothly. She jumped onto a bed and morphed back into her human form. She looked at her friends. They did not look happy with that stunt.

So, she snapped.

“What?” she growled.

Instead of answering, her friends walked over to talk to her. They asked her how she felt, what happened, if she needed anything, all of the sickly mumbo jumbo that made Charli so mad.

She rose from the bed and pushed passed her friends.

“Charli, what are you doing?” Penny sniffed, a little annoyed at Charli’s attitude.

“That woman is going to die.” She snarled.

Penny jogged behind her and grabbed her arm. “You can’t kill a person, Charli, that isn’t you.”

“I never said I’d kill her.” Charli ripper her arm away from Penny’s grip. “But when I’m done with her, she’s gonna do it herself.”

And with that, Charli morphed back into her jackal form and ran off, too fast for her froends to follow. Well, she thought she was.

--------

Once Charli left the room, Talbott pushed to the front and reassured Penny. He would follow her, make sure Charli didn’t end up dead herself. He said that quietly, as Rowan’s father was emerging from behind the curtain. He winked at Penny, and transformed, shooting through the closing gap between the doors, and located Charli, following her into what ever mess she was getting herself into.

--------

Charli ran to the scene of the crime, sniffing around, searching for Rakepick’s scent. But she was struggling.

Talbott finally caught up with her, landing on the floor and morphing back, calling out to his friend and telling her to come back, see Rowan, mourn with the group. Charli shot a death glare at him with her shining amber eyes, and she went back to sniffing.

“Charli, please, this isn’t the way. Revenge does nothing!” she ignored him. “Charli, come on. There’s a funeral this afternoon. Come, for Rowan! They wouldn’t want you to exhaust yourself for a pointless mission!”

Charli stopped, growled, and morphed back to human form. She stood with her back to Talbott, hands clenched and shaking, head down, breath erratic. She was trying not to explode, she needed that energy for Rakepick.

“Just leave me alone, bird boy.” She said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be back after lunch. I’ve found her scent, it’s strong. Go back.” She turned to him, tears falling. “I’ll be fine.”

He sighed. “What are you doing to do?”

“Let’s just say my father taught me more than how to feel fear, but how to give it too.” She shot him a reassuring smile. It looked kind of evil though. “I should be fine. But, if I’m not,” She pulled a muggle notebook out of her pocket, along with a pen, and scribbled two notes. One to Rowan and their family, one to the school. “Do me a favour and have these read out? Wait until the end of the funeral.”

“Ok.” Talbott, sighed in defeat. “Be safe.”

“I’ll try.”

She morphed into a jackal and ran off, leaving Talbott alone, fiddling with the notes. He was scared for her.

--------

It took her three hours to run to the building Rakepick was in. it was crumbling and rotten, at least 200 years old. Disgusting, really. Charli cringed at the smell, immediately morphing back to human form and hiding behind a fallen tree. The surrounding garden was overgrown, easy to hide in as she snook into the house. She saw a shadow of the criminal in the top floor window, pacing around. Charli decided to make a move. She checked her wand placement, easy to whip out in emergency.

She shifted once more, sneaking to the gate, squeezing through a gap in the bars, and hiding in the bushes, belly on the floor, shuffling up to the door, which again had a hole in the bottom, just big enough for her to squeeze through. She snook up the stairs, alert and ready. She heard the voice of Rakepick, muttering to herself. She seemed distressed. Charli didn’t care.

Charli found herself at the door, it was cracked open. She morphed into her human form and peaked through the door. The woman was alone, her robe flung over a chair, her strong arms on show. Thank the lord, both muggle and magical. She took out her wand and gripped it tight. She was ready.

She opened the door, startling Rakepick, and stormed in, strong and fierce, an expression of pure anger on her face. Rakepick smirked when she noticed who it was.

“Hello there, Rowe. How’s Khanna?”

“Don’t you dare say their name!!” Charli shouted, furious. “You don’t have the right!”

“I guess they’re not good. I guessed.” The woman laughed, pulling out her wand. “I guess you came for revenge? Let’s just get this over with. What’s one more dead kid?”

“You’re gonna wish you never said that.” Charli smirked, feeling joy for the first time today. “musculus torquent!!”

You see, Charli’s father was not a good person. He was an auror, a corrupt one. Used his power to evade the law, use his own spells, and test them on whoever he wanted. This was his favourite. The Muscle Twisting curse. Mr Rowe created this spell to torture those he arrested without getting caught, and he enjoyed it so much, he decided to punish Charli and Jacob with it, because corruption! What it does is lock on to the ends of the tendons, and move them across the bones. Think of a Chinese burn action, but with the muscles. With every muscle in the body.

Charli swore she would never use this spell. But, well, this was a special occasion.

----------

Charli was dead in the eyes, watching as Rakepick dropped her wand, locked in place, then falling to the ground as her body failed her. She writhed in pain, screaming, tense, crying. Dying.

You could see the irregular movement under Rakepick’s skin, muscle bunching up and moving, the knots shifting around the limbs. she flung herself across the floor, on her front, side, back, side, front, knees, back, and finally, slumped onto her back.

Her breath was slow and weak, no movement in her body except the small rise and fall of her chest. Charli would have felt sorry for her, but, well. Would you?

Charli knew how long it would take for her to recover. Three days, at least, without magical intervention. So, Charli strode forward and snatched Rakepick’s wand. She leant over her old mentor’s face, smirking. “That is why you don’t touch my friends. Ever. Incarcerous.”

Rakepick was bound on the floor, tears of pain flowing down her cheeks, flinching and moaning in pain with every strong bind. Charli was feeling malicious, so gave her a strong stomp on the ribs, hearing them break under the force. Rakepick called out, but Charli shot a spell and stuffed her mouth to shut her up. Charli dragged her to the wall and sat her up, transfiguring a fallen stone slab from the fireplace into a weighted shackle, attaching it to Rakepick’s right ankle, and standing. She huffed in amusement, gazing at the pathetic form in front of her. She took out the woman’s wand, held it out in front of her, and snapped it in half, immediately pocketing it after.

“Good luck surviving the week. Goodbye, Professor.”

And with that, Charli left. She strolled down the stairs and walked away, only turning back into a jackal when the house was long in the distance.

---------

Meanwhile…

In the castle, the students were mourning their classmate. The curse breaker squad was helping set up the funeral, Penny and Ben mainly sitting with the Khannas to talk. They were all crying. Talbott kept on checking his pocket, making sure the notes were still there. Luckily, they were. He decided it was best to tell the Khannas, Penny, and Ben what happened in the forest, so he wondered over to them and did. He explained the whole situation, and Charli should be back before the end. He explained the notes, that he still didn’t know the contents of. The group nodded along, all knowing Charli’s spirit. They silently prayed she would return.

----------

She wasn’t back.

The group and Khannas were in the front rows, teachers behind them, and rest of the student body behind them. Dumbledore was at the front, holding the ceremony, told to stall for as long as he could. Rowan’s coffin was behind the headmaster, on a raised platform.

It was made out of Rowan wood. It had gold linings, with Red velvet inside, except for the lid. That had a layer of book pages. The group huffed in amusement at that, imagining Rowan’s horror if they could see that.

The stalling was over, they needed to move on in the ceremony. Charli wasn’t there. It was time for Charli’s notes. Talbott had handed them to Penny. She had a better public presence than him.

Dumbledore gestured to Penny. “I believe you have something to read out, miss Haywood?”

She nodded, and stumbled up, knees shaking and tears still falling. Her hands shook as she unfolded the first note. She cleared her voice and began to speak.

Bam!

The doors were flung open and Charli emerged. Her head was held high. She saw the coffin and shed tears. She didn’t bother wiping them away as she strode to the front, gesturing for Penny to sit down. She said nothing as she walked up to the stand and towards her friend. She held Rowan’s hand, and gave it a small squeeze. It was cold.

She sighed, letting go, and turned back to the school. “I don’t know if Dumbledore told all of you this, but Rowan Khanna, my best friend, a beloved classmate to all of us, was murdered last night by our ex-professor Patricia Rakepick, using the killing curse. She was aiming for Ben Copper, she was being a brave, cocky little prick, and she got mad. Rowan was a hero and jumped in front of him.”

The School was silent. She sensed their fear.

“Don’t worry. She won’t be hurting anyone anymore.” She took Rakepick’s wand shards out of her pocket and threw them on the ground. “That’s her wand. she was left half dead in an abandoned house, bound and gagged. She isn’t coming back, ever.”

She sighed, choking up now.

“Rowan may be gone, but they will never be forgotten.” She turned to Dumbledore. “I suggest getting a portrait done. Rowan needs the be remembered.”

He nodded at her in agreement.

“I was gonna say a bunch of other stuff, but really, I can’t. let’s just, study hard. For Rowan.”

And with that, there was silence, and Charli sat down, immediately silently crying. Listening to the rest of the funeral.

Charli may not have the best karma now, but oh well. It’s not like she’ll be in Hogwarts much longer, after what she’s done.

--------

A week later, Charli was sitting in the library, in a hidden corner, Rowan’s favourite study spot. She was whispering to the new portrait of her best friend.

At least they were still here.

#the aftermath of Rowan getting murdered #god im sad now #charli rowe #rowan khanna

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operation-firecobraclaw · 7 years ago

Note

Ahhhhhh! Thanks for always being such an awesome blog! Can I ask for HP! Au? I personally picture Shiro as Gryffindor and Keith as Hufflepuff, but up to you.

Ahhh, thank you for following!! As a Hooflepoof myself, I was happy to write Keith as one, haha. :) I hope you like it!

The last thing Keith could clearly remember was reaching for the snitch, his fingertips mere inches away from the darting, golden ball. After a sudden, brutal blow of pain to his shoulder, his memory was broken up into hazy, flashing images of his rapid descent, his yellow cape whipping around him as he hurdled toward the ground.

Then nothing.

Keith was roused awake by the sound of hushed voices.

“I can’t believe Shirogane left the goalposts.”

“It’s a good thing he did. Keith might be in worse shape if he hadn’t.”

“Look, he’s waking up.”

Keith wearily turned his head as his eyes fluttered open, and it wasn’t until then that he realized his entire body ached. When his vision cleared, he glanced around the hospital wing; beside Hunk and Matt who stood beside his bed, the room was vacant. “Did someone take a bat to my shoulder or what?” he groaned. He tried to sit up, but he felt a hand gently press down against his chest.

“Sorry, Keith,” Hunk said with a sympathetic smile. “Madame Pomphrey’s keeping you overnight and wants you to take it easy. That bludger really did a number on you.”

“Great,” he sighed, his head sinking back into the pillow. He grimaced, recalling how close he had been to catching the snitch. “I almost had it. That would have been a hundred-and-fifty points for Hufflepuff, and I blew it. Why didn’t I see that bludger coming?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It happens to even the best players,” Matt reassured as he set a few books down on the nightstand beside the bed. “Brought some study material. Still got that exam on counter-jinxes tomorrow.”

Keith muttered out a quiet “thanks.” He paused, furrowing his brow when he remembered something Matt had mentioned. “Hey… Did you say Shirogane left the goalposts?” He suddenly felt embarrassed at the thought of Shirogane seeing him fail so badly. Why did his first quidditch match have to be against Gryffindor? Why did Takashi Shirogane have to be their captain?

More importantly, why did Keith have to be so damn smitten with him?

He watched his two friends exchanged bemused looks. “What?”

“You.. don’t remember?” Hunk quirked an eyebrow.

“No…?”

“Well,” Matt started, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Shirogane kind of… snatched you out of the air when you fell off your broom. Saved you from a pretty bad fall.”

Keith gave a series of rapid blinks, feeling the disbelief strike across his face. “He.. what?”

Hunk nodded. “He was actually here earlier. Wanted to make sure you were okay. He looked pretty worried.”

“I.. um..” It was sinking in slow, and Keith didn’t know what to think. Shiro interrupted a quidditch match for him? What did that even mean? Keith wasn’t so sure he could chalk it up to he’s just being nice this time. That same annoying flutter he felt in his chest whenever he spoke to Shiro was all too lively at the moment.

“Get some rest, will you?” Matt chided as he folded his arms across his chest. There was a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, like he knew more than he was letting on. “C’mon, Hunk.”

“Wait, Matt, does he… do that often?” It was a stupid question, and the hope Keith could hear in his own voice made him feel stupid too.

“What – completely abandon his quidditch post in the middle of the first game of the season to rescue the opposing team’s seeker from plowing to the ground?”

Keith rolled his eyes, glancing away from them as he felt a flush of heat fill his cheeks.

Matt shrugged a nonchalant shoulder before turning to leave. “Only for the ones he really likes.”

The grand hall was buzzing with chatter, and today’s hot topic was Gryffindor’s quidditch captain and his heroic rescue of Hufflepuff’s seeker – much to Shiro’s dismay.

“Your boyfriend just left the hospital wing.”

Shiro didn’t look up from his book when Allura sat beside him, her voice chiming in a little too happily this morning. “Not my boyfriend,” he muttered, turning the page despite no longer absorbing the text. He would never give Allura the satisfaction of knowing she’d successfully distracted him with just the mere mention of Keith.

“For the time being,” she countered, nudging him with her elbow. “He’s in the courtyard right now, if you want to say hi.”

He gave her a sideways glance before shutting his book and getting up from the table. As soon as Allura opened her mouth, he lifted a finger to stop her. “Ah, ah! No. I’m going to class.”

Of course, he had to walk through the courtyard to get to class and therefore inevitably run into Keith. He turned to leave but not before catching the knowing grin that spread across Allura’s lips.

Sure enough, he saw Keith at the east end of the courtyard, sitting in the grass with a book in his lap and his back against a tree. Curiously, six or seven canary birds flitted around him, seeming to gravitate around his person without straying too far from his reach. Shiro stopped a few feet from him, his eyes widening as they flickered from bird to bird.

“The Avis charm?” he asked in disbelief.

Keith seemed to jump at his voice, recovering a moment later to greet him. “Oh! Hey, Shiro. Yeah, been working on it for awhile. I think I finally got it down.”

“I’ll say.” He chuckled as one of the canaries landed on his outstretched hand. It picked at the feathers under its wing before taking flight again. “These are really good, Keith,” he commended, not making any attempts to hide in his voice how impressed he was. In his fifth year, Keith mastered a spell that was taught only to sixth-years. “I can barely conjure one, maybe two on a good day.”

Keith sat up a little, as if he wasn’t expected the compliment, and he gave him a small yet appreciative smile. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“Hey, so…” Shiro started, taking another step forward. “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright. Tough break with the bludger.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied with a shrug. He looked up then to meet Shiro in the eyes, his countenance as sober as ever. “I did want to thank you for the save. I could still be in the hospital wing right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Shiro’s voice was caught in his throat for a brief moment as he was caught off guard – and not for the first time – by Keith’s unusual yet stunning amethyst-grey eyes and the sincerity that they held. The words finally came to him, a soft smile forming on his lips. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Keith returned his smile with a warm one of his own. “Thanks… again.”

A small moment of silence stretched between them, and Shiro decided that he was just going to do it. He was going to ask him out. Easy. So easy that the thought alone made his chest feel tight and his cheeks burn hot. He blurted out, “Hey so I was wondering–”

He was cut off by the clock tower bell, its deep ring resounding over the school grounds. Shit, I’m late. Of course. Shiro scratched the back of his head, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Ahh, forget it. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Keith’s head tilted to the side, curiosity showing clear on his face, but he didn’t press the matter. “Sure thing. See you later, Shiro.”

As Shiro made his way to class, now out of Keith’s view, he tilted his head back and breathed out an audible sigh.

Now to just… build up the courage to try that again next time… Great.

[Prompts n’ thangs!]

#sheith #drabble request #keith x shiro #shiro x keith #harry potter au #voltron #enzetto #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #matt holt #hunk garrett #allura #okay but i seriously love mutual pining sheith #my favorite dorks #firecobraclaw writes

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imaginemycroftholmes · 8 years ago

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omg could you write a drabble about the gryffindor that accused mycroft to use his hufflepuff friend as a fake friend? later the hufflepuff knows about the fight and goes to talk to mycroft. female reader ,please fluff if its okay for you.

“Watch out lads, we got a couple of Deatheaters on our hands!” called an obnoxious voice carried over the noise of the ancient stone hallways.

Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he continued to escort Anthea to her Divination class without causing a scene.

Normally it would be Gregory walking his fellow house mate on Tuesdays; however, with the next match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw he had been plastered with practice sessions at the behest of the head of Gryffindor. His nature physique and large network of friends made it very undesirable for any urchins coming for his dark haired friend but as like Gregory their luck had run out as the gang tailed after them.

It would seem that Calvin Montgomery, supposedly one of the few “real” Gryffindor’s according to him due to the fact that his mother Sarah Geffrey fought in the Great Battle of Hogwarts alongside the famous Harry Potter.

There never seemed to be a moment where the pimple didn’t wax on bout how great she had been in battle and that she of course taught him all her moves. Or how his mother taught him how to spot Deatheaters at a glance and that if you stuck with him you could learn as well. Then of course, how he declared every single Slytherin was plotting to resurrect a new dark lord to take over the wizarding world.

Now most of the student body of Hogwarts didn’t believe his hogwash after first year but even now as a fifth year Montgomery still had a following that harassed Slytherins and anyone that stood by them.

Why he was allowed to do so was beyond Mycroft’s comprehension and had expressed as much to Headmistress McGonagall but she professed that her hands were tied.

“Until Mr. Montgomery does something considerably noteworthy repeatedly I cannot simply remove him from my school,” the Headmistress exclaimed over when Mycroft came to her again about Montgomery’s verbal abuse, “Surely even you can understand that Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft indeed understand where the Head Mistress was coming from.

If she had the power to eject a student for being a massive pill she would have removed several trouble students years before but as Montgomery was beginning to become more caustic Mycroft worried for his newest target of abuse.

He suspected that it might be a case of rejection as Montgomery had poorly attempted to court Anthea after a rather ugly rendition of his ‘all Slytherins must bear the sins of their former housemates and do whatever the other houses say in retribution.’

Any fool would have realized that she would have said no and yet Montgomery persists in being an ass to Anthea any opportunity.

“Hey! I said, HEY!” Montgomery shouts after them as Mycroft ushers Anthea ahead of him at a faster pace. The hallway has become less sparse with students and the odds of both of them escaping without some sort of confrontation are decreasing into single digits.

Mycroft had no qualms that given the chance Montgomery would do far worse than shout at her so it’s best to send Anthea along ahead as he can hold them off for a tick. He may not have Gregory’s strength but he certainly had the same tenacity.

Even if it is five to one Mycroft knows that none of these goldfish know the basics of dueling. Mummy would be displeased but it would favorable than coming home with a pig’s tail and a black eye.

Anthea looks wary of leaving him there but he nods and she’s running down the hallways like a bat out of the potion’s classroom.

Turning to the gang of supposedly ‘brave’ Gryffindors he greets them in curtly with his wand at the ready by his hand. “Is there something I can help you with gentleman,” asks almost conversantly like they hadn’t been harassing his friend.

Montgomery looks pissed as he comes closer and his cronies follow dumbly behind. “It’s just like a snake to sneak away like the cowards they are,” Montgomery accuses glaring after Anthea’s disappearing figure. Putting his attention then on Mycroft he gives him a shove and demands, “What about you tubby? Aren’t ya goin’ run away too?”

Standing a bit straighter Mycroft tries to flatten his stomach and has a firm hold of his wand, “I’ll start running when I met someone worthy of running from Montgomery.”

“OoooOOhhh, a Slytherin tryin’ ta act brave,” Montgomery says in a demeaning tone to his followers who instinctively join in his mockery.

“I don’t have to act Montgomery as it’s very clear who here is brave considering you need five classmates to tail after one girl,” Mycroft states coolly.

This incites Montgomery to grab for his wand and he almost prepares to use it when one of his more sane cronies yells, “Don’t do it Cal! You can’t afford another detention!”

If his hiss is of any indication of his displeasure the way Montgomery practically stomps his feet in the empty corridor is enough to illustrate it. “Damn that bloody harpy and her prefects,” Montgomery curses, “If they’d all leave me be I’d be more than half way done fixin’ this school.” Another one of his friends tries to lead him away from Mycroft but Mycroft is hardly through with him.

If he could just get Calvin to fight him the bastard would be gone and Anthea could walk safely on the grounds once more.

“The only thing that would ultimately ‘fix’ this school is if you were no longer attending it,” Mycroft loudly quips knowing that Montgomery was still in earshot.

The fanatical turn was something out of a comic strip as Montgomery faced.

“What did ya say you cowardly worm?” he screeched while his buddies tried to hold him back.

“Did I stutter?”

He looks so infused that his wand is liable to break in his grip before another lad in the group wrestles it away with a, “NO CAL, McGonagall will expel you!”

It takes a real effort on Calvin’s part to stop squirming but when he does get rather quiet, pensive look as he glares at Mycroft. “See? At least I have real friends to help me out butterball,” he muses, “where are yours I wonder? That one’s run away and without Lestrade you ain’t got shit.”

“You seem to have forgone your senses as I do have more friends than that,” Mycroft puffs out with a bit of pride. Mycroft wasn’t one to have too many friends, acquaintances and connections were more common but friends-they were hard to come by.

Montgomery lets out a bark of a laugh. “What? You mean _______?” he asks a bit hysterical. “That bint ain’t your friend mate, she’s just like everyone else. Riding the Holmes tails and hoping ta catch some crumbs because Hufflepuffs are so stupid-”

CRACK!

When Mycroft came to he wasn’t sure what had happen really other than his fists were sore and he was in detention.

He couldn’t really recall how he got there other than the faded noises of what sounded like the Head Mistress scolding him and the shrieks of vengeance by Montgomery as he was hauled away. Now that he thinks about it Mycroft’s jaw did feel a bit numb…

“Mycroft!”

Looking for the source in the dingy dungeon Mycroft finds it difficult but when _____ ‘s yellow and black uniform becomes more visible he is at ease.

“_______,” he greets ignoring at how his body aches, “I don’t suppose you have a copy of today’s potion lab for me would you?”

Even with the poor lighting Mycroft can tell that she’s upset.

“Mycroft why would you do something like that,” ______ demanded, “You know that those slugs could have done worse to you and yet you go and pick a fight with them? Why?”

Weighing his options Mycroft decides to go with the truth, “They were slurring your reputation and I would rather stand their attacks than let your name be slandered in my presence.”

________’s face flashes from flabbergasted, pleased, excited, and very much roused at the candid answer before shaking her face into a less heated state.“Well, Head Mistress says you have detention for a week under Madame Pomphrey,” ____ says trying to sound normal.

“I dare say I need to given all these sudden aches and pains. Tell me, where there anywhere that they didn’t hit me?” Mycroft asks in a lame attempt to get a smile.

It’s lame bait but _____, thank Merlin bites into it.“Well, I heard from Thomas who heard it from Myers that-”

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theleftovertaco · 4 years ago

Text

Ratel

Someone sent me this amazingly specific ask about a Afro- Caribbean girl at Hogwarts and I loved the idea so this is the result. I would like to preface this by saying that I am not afro-Caribbean. While I did spend a few hours researching Trinidadian, Kenyan and Nigerian culture, food and customs, I am extremely sorry if anything here looks stereotypical or if i get something wrong. Please correct me if I mess up because I would never want to dishonor a person’s culture or country.

ONTO THE STORY

Y/N’s arrival had been a bit of an event. Transfer students were rare, and when they occurred, they were treated as a big deal, since often they only happened for some political reason of the students parents. This was exactly the case with Y/N

Dumbledore had stepped to the front of the Great Hall at the beginning of the year after the first years had been sorted and called everyone’s attention.

“This year, we have a new 4th year transfer student joining us,” excited chatter erupted around the room, “I trust you will make her feel welcome and show her what Hogwarts School is all about. Please welcome Mrs. Y/N Y/L/N from Uagadou School of Magic in Uganda!” The doors opened and you walked through, head high and looking straight ahead despite the stares that followed you.

Professor McGonagall gave you a smile and instructed you to the stool for your sorting.

The hat barely touched your head before “HUFFLEPUFF” was exclaimed and rapturous applause came from the yellow and black table.

As you sat down for the feast, a tall boy with fluffy brown hair reached out to shake your hand, “I’m Cedric Diggory, sixth year. That was quite an entrance. Welcome to Hufflepuff.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you surprised to be in our house? Honestly with the way you carried yourself I would have guessed Slytherin.”

“Not really. Hufflepuff is the house of the loyal, kind, and hardworking. Just because I’m sharp or harsh looking doesn’t mean I can’t have those traits.”

He looked at you in shock

“You’ve done your research. Yeah, I guess you’re right, a person can be more than one thing. So what’s Uganda like?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I went to school at Uagadou but my family is mostly Nigerian, Kenyan, and Trinidadian and most of my life we’ve spent moving around those areas and the Americas. My parents have some sort of business here for the next year or so, and I decided that I might as well try a new school, so they let me come here.”

“Oh that sounds fun!” A younger blonde girl jumped into the conversation, “Sorry to interrupt. Hannah Abbot, third year.” You nodded her way and shook her hand as well as other Hufflepuff’s began to introduce themselves and listen into the conversation.

“So,” Susan Bones asked, “Do you speak any other languages?”

You nodded and listed them off, “Yes. Officially, English is the main language in Nigeria but in Kenya and Uganda, Swahili is also common. I also speak Spanish, Portugese, and I’m familiar with French and the Trinidadian dialects of French as well as French Creole.” A chorus of wows surrounded you.

“What’s Uagadou like?”

“It’s nice, just very different from what I can tell. They are a lot more loose about how they teach things there. It’s strange, everyone here is dependent on wands.”

“You don’t use wands?”

“We do, but before that we’re taught to use magic with our hands and nonverbally. Helps avoid detection and makes it easy to still use magic if we’re disarmed. Dependence on a wand is pretty strictly European. Almost every other country learns without them first.”

“So you can just do magic, like with your hands?”

“Yup.” You flicked your fingers and the fork and knife in front of your plate did a little dance before picking up a piece of chicken and bringing it too your mouth.”

You looked around and your cutlery show had attracted the attention of a few of the surrounding houses students as well as professor Flitwick’s attention.

“That was marvelous, Mrs. Y/L/N! Would you mind demonstrating some of that again in my class tomorrow?”

“Sure, I have charms tomorrow at 2 pm so it should work.” He nodded and walked back to his table with the other professors.

The conversation deviated and eventually with dinner over, you were ushered to the coziness of the Hufflepuff common room and dorms. Plants and comfy blankets were all about the rooms. This was exactly the house you belonged to.

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

Breakfast the next day saw a new set of questions and some repeats from other houses students who hadn’t gotten the chance to ask. Word had made it’s rounds by then, and people realized you were exceptionally gifted.

During your free period after lunch, you were practically assaulted by a set of identical red headed string beans.

“You’re the transfer student right?”

“Yes, I-”

“We heard you’re gifted.”

“I mean I suppose-”

“What else can you do?”

“Can you show us?”

“Someone said you’re already an animagus?”

“OK SHUSH! One. I am not a goddamn zoo animal for you to just ask to do tricks at your whim. Two. One question at a time, for fuck’s sake.”

Shocked identical looks were followed by sheepish remorse.

“And three. Yes I am and animagus.”

One of them stepped forward.

“Sorry, that was kind of rude of us. We didn’t mean to come off so pushy. I’m George. He’s Fred.”

Fred also apologized and once you accepted, they asked again, albeit a little more gently.

“So, what animal can you turn into?” Fred asked slowly, like he thought he might annoy you again if he asked.

“You don’t have to talk that slowly, I won’t bite.” Fred laughed some and motioned for you to continue.

“I’m a Ratel.”

“A wot?”

“Also known as a honey badger.”

“Ohhhh.” Fred gasped

“I actually like that better than honeybadger. Sounds nicer.”

“Can we call you that? Ratel?” You shrugged and from there on out Ratel was more your name than your actual one. The teachers, staff, students. Even Dumbledore called you that.

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

The one group of people you refused to tolerate was Malfoy and his goon-squad.

It’s the superiority complex for me.

And everyone.

“How dare you look at me, filthy little-”

“Malfoy I know you weren’t just trying to beat up another first year.” You marched over to him with Neville, Luna, and the twins behind you. Crabbe and Goyle immediately dropped the Ravenclaw they had hoisted over their shoulders, and the small boy raced behind you and clutched onto your side. Crabbe and Goyle knew not to mess with you. Not after the thrashing you had given them before winter break.

Apparently Draco hadn’t learned the same lesson.

“Technically, I wasn’t.”

“Not you trying to use that smart shit with me. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size.”

“And if I don’t? What are you gonna do Princess?”

Princess. Absolutely not.

You stormed over to him, grabbed his pressed collar (fucking prick) and slammed him against a tree.

“If you even look in the direction of any of the younger kids. If you even look my way, or my friends way, or anyone’s way really. I will shove your own wand so far up your ass your can taste it, throw you to the forbidden forest, chuck whatever is left of you at the Whomping Willow, and then throw the remains in a disintegrating solution. Don’t try me. You know I’ll do it.”

You leaned back, and then punched him in the sternum. He crumpled to the ground before stumbling back up and running off.

You checked over the first year and then sent him on his way. As you walked off with the others, Neville spoke up.

“I’ve never heard of a disintegrating solution. Did you just make that up?”

“No, my mother and her twin have this old family book of spells and potions. It’s been passed down through the past few generations and people add to it often.”

“Wicked! Is that how you managed to remove Parkinson’s nose the other day?” Fred asked.

“Yup. She still in the infirmary?”

George laughed before responding, “Yeah, Pomphrey still can’t figure out how to reattach it and Parkinson refuses to say who did it.”

Everyone laughed as you headed to the library.

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

“What are you doing in here?” Dean and Seamus stepped behind the portrait in the kitchens.

“Jesus CHRIST! You scared me.”

Seamus smiled and kissed your cheek, “Sorry, love. So, whatcha making?” He leaned over the pot you were stirring.

“Trinidadian curry. I missed home, and no offense, but British food has little to no flavor.”

“None taken- Mm! Thasth really goof!” His mouth was full but you picked up the gist. Dean laughed as he also stole a bite.

“Quit it you two. It’s not quite done yet.”

“Fine.”

“Sorry, Ratel.”

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

“Harry James Potter!” Harry jumped as you stormed into the Gryffindor common room.

“How did you even get in here, you’re a hufflepuff?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you tell me you were getting headaches? I just had to find out from Hermione!”

“Ratel, it’s not a big deal calm dow-”

“Kid. If you’re getting headaches everyday you need to get some help for it.”

“I’m not a kid, and it’s none of your concern!”

“You’re my friend. Of course it’s my concern. And don’t pull all that ‘Oh I’m the Chosen One, I need to do shit by myself’ because it’s dumb, ok Harry.”

He paused, “Fine… I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you are, now sit your ass down and I’ll grab you a headache potion.”

“Ok… Hey, Ratel?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

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

“The mandrake leaf has been in your mouth all month, you’ll all be fine.” Fred, George, Seamus, Dean, Luna, Neville, Cedric, Ron, Harry and Hermione all stood surrounding you in a circle as you held a glass phial. A flask of a potion was passed around and then each of them chanted the needed incantation.

All around you, each of them shrunk or grew as their form took place.

Fred and George transformed into identical hyenas who turned towards each other and erupted into a high pitched cacophony of screeching and laughing. Seamus turned into a phoenix with bright orange and yellow plumage, while Dean turned into a rather large fluffy golden retriever. Luna turned into a white hare and proceeded to dart around the hill you were on. Neville was now a meerkat. Cedric was a Lynx. Ron was now a roaring lion, Hermione now a river otter, and Harry a similar Stag to his father’s.

You shrunk down to your badger form and the lot of you rushed around for the next few hours until the sun came up. Racing, messing with each other,

Hogwarts had turned into home.

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

If you saw something incorrect or inconsistent with any culture PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN FIX IT. There is such a lack of POC representation in the fandom and as someone who is latina, I love when I see even a scrap of representation so after this I will probably start doing more like this (likely more mexican/ salvadoran cause thats where a lot of my family is from).

Also I’m sorry if this is too long or I wasn't able to get every detail in I hope this was what anon wanted!

#fred weasley #george weasley #seamus finnigan x reader #cedric diggory #ron weasley #neville longbottom #draco malfoy #dean thomas #luna lovegood #hermione granger

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