#ravenclaw book recommendation

[coryosbaby]

Mascara || T. Riddle

Fandom: ‘Harry Potter’

Pairing: Young! Tom Riddle x fem! Ravenclaw! Reader

｡.｡ ♡ Content warning . Public sex, praise & degradation, cum play, sub! Reader, dom! Tom

Notes: set in modern day Hogwarts. I never thought i’d want to fuck Voldemort but here we are.

Your feet patter softly against the tile floors of Hogwarts, a book clutched tightly in your arms as you make your way towards the school’s library. It’s a rainy night, incredibly quiet and empty. The other students are at dinner, and you’ve decided to skip out to study for your OWLs. When you open the big wooden doors to the library, the smell of printed ink and old pages invites you further in.

The first thing you notice, when you close the doors behind you and take sight of the room, is that the librarian, Madam Pince, is no where to be found. She must be on her break.

The second thing you notice is the boy sitting in the darkest corner of the room.

You know of the familiar brunette— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Tom Riddle is a popular slytherin well known for his cunningness, his intelligence, his ability to speak native tongues— and sometimes, his temper. A ravenclaw yourself, you try to steer clear of him. Slytherins usually don’t take politely to anyone outside of their house. Not to mention the fact that you scored the top of your class, with him coming in close second. You suspect that he hates you for that.

He catches your gaze, brown eyes with the resemblance of a serpent. He looks back down at his book, seeming bored.

You let out a breath of air.

You slide your book into the return bin, timidly moving to the shelf about Potions. Snape has been really hassling you lately on your grades, and you really need to turn your B+ into a perfect A. Your fingertips skim over the leathered binds, reading title after title. A voice behind you makes you jump.

“If you’re studying for Snape’s final, I’d recommend ‘Advanced Potion Making’. It will tell you all you need to know.”

His voice is an angelic lilt, though you know that is not in any way what he resembles. The fact that he’s helping you stumps you into utter confusion, and heat creeps up your neck. You nod to him as you begin searching for the book.

To no avail. Your eyes search every bind, every word, but your focus has been diluted because of Tom speaking to you. He sighs, almost annoyed.

He appears beside you, much to your surprise. You nervously bite your lip as he finds the exact book he recommended and pushes it into your hands.

“Chapter nine. I would’ve thought a girl of your ranking in our class would know this already.”

Your brows furrow, embarrassment coursing through you as he sits back down and resumes his tasks. You nervously fumble with the book.

“Thank you.” You reply, because you had been taught proper manners. He scoffs, flicking through the pages of his book. You can’t read the title, though the cover is quite off put ish and dark. Perhaps he had snuck into the restricted section.

“Don’t.”

You frown, though your mind is peaking with curiosity. He seems rude, but he was trying to help you. Maybe there’s something nice under there, after all. Your body is stiff as you sit across from him at the table, silently pleading to God that the boy across from you won’t put a nasty hex on you.

“You don’t have to be rude, you know.”

It slips out of your lips, quiet and unsure. Tom’s eyes narrow at you.

“And as well as that, you don’t have to sit across from me.”

“Perhaps I want to. Perhaps you need a friend.”

“A friend?” He chuckles dryly, his gaze travelling down to your robes. You try to ignore the heat creeping between your legs. “We aren’t going to be friends.”

His insinuation is thick, dangerous. Your heart pounds out of your chest at this unexpected turn of your study hour. You gulp, looking down at the pages.

“Very well then. But since I’ve already sat down, I might as well continue my book here.”

“Or we could continue this conversation in my dorm room.”

He says it smoothly, with no fear or utmost insecurity.

“What?” You blanch, stuttering on your syllables. Tom smirks.

“A smart girl like you, and you can’t even comprehend a single sentence,” he says, his body beginning to move out of his chair. “‘S pathetic, really…”

You breath hitches as his tall form towers over you. Your fingertips grasp the sides of your chair as he leans in close.

“Tom,” you start, warningly. He quirks a brow.

“No?” He questions, and then after a moment, staring into your doe eyes, it dawns on him. His mouth forms into a grin. “Oh, you want it here, don’t you? You want it right here.”

His lips brush just inches over your pouty lips, and you wonder how in the hell you got into this situation and why this slytherin boy is making such a sudden move on you. But knowing Tom, it’s probably out of boredom. Out of the desire for a hook up.

You don’t mind it. Not really, not anymore, because all your protests are ripped away from you when he presses his lips to yours. It’s not tender or sweet, it’s full of sharp teeth and unfiltered lust. His hands rest on your chin, gripping your head so you can’t escape his kiss— can’t escape him.

Your tongue is about to graze his lips when he pulls away. His fingers grasp your shoulder and pull you up to your feet. You stumble, your legs shaky from just a couple of kisses. You gasp when he spins you around and presses your face against one of the nearest bookshelves. His big hands wrap around your wrists and hold them behind your back.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints from you. Do you understand me?” He whispers, his hands reaching down to lift up your robes. “If I do, I’ll leave you here drenched, your clothes gone, with your holes freshly fucked and on display for the entire school to see. Do you understand me?”

You nod instantly. You know that these aren’t empty threats; when Tom says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.

When he pulls up your robes, taking in the sight of your pretty pink thong, he lets out a sharp breath.

“Prepared, weren’t you?”

You let out a whine, knowing that no, this wasn’t intentional. Tom just caught you on a specific type of day. But looking on it now, maybe the universe was being in your favor when you decided to pick out the flimsy undergarment.

Tom slips the hem of your robes into your hands.

“Hold it.” He commands, and you’re quick to comply.

His hardness presses against you, clothed still but his robes are lifted so he can rut against you in his briefs. It isn’t long before he’s pulling them down past his thighs, his cock sprinting up into the air as he places himself against you once again. You can’t help but drip with need, canting your hips back against him. His cock presses in between the seam of your ass, and you rub against him like a bitch in heat.

And just like a bitch in heat, you purr.

“Tommy..” you let out, and his grip on your hips tighten. “Please?”

He scoffs at the nickname, though his bottom lip is caught roughly between his teeth and he’s trying to contain himself. He wraps his hand around his awaiting length, parts your thighs with the other, and slides his dick up against your throughly aroused pussy.

He’s warm, sticky. You wish you could’ve seen him before this, seen that thing that feels oh so heavy between your legs, but it’ll have to wait. Hopefully, there will be a next time.

When he slides in, it stretches you obscenely. This isn’t your first time, but there’s a burning sensation as he enters you. He’s got the perfect amount of thickness and length to pull a moan deep from your throat.

He doesn’t start slow. His hips smack against yours at a rapid pace, small grunts leaving his silky lips as he uses you like a common whore. Your hands grip your robes and the bookshelf at the same time, trying to keep steady as Tom fills you to the brim. He noses along your jaw and leaves wet, open kisses there. You mewl when he bites down harshly and sucks a mark into your skin.

“Such a tight little cunt you have,” Tom breathes, his fingertips bruising your hips. “Look at you, such a slut for my cock. Does it feel good? Tell me, tell me how it feels.”

Your thighs squeeze him, your mouth gaping open in utter ecstasy. Your words are caught in your throat, but Tom is quick to force them out of you with a spank to your ass. You moan, your forehead pressing against the bookshelf’s wooden edge.

“Yes! Yes, it feels so good…” you slur, entranced by the spice of his cologne and the feeling of his girthy length splitting you open. He grunts, bucking his hips into you with vigor.

“And I bet it’s the best you’ve had, isn’t it? All those other boys can’t do it for you. I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”

It’s true, and when his cockhead hits a spot deep inside you that has you keening, your legs quiver and your brain turns to jelly. Tom’s fingers place themselves around your neck and squeeze so hard that your vision blurs at the edges, and you’re enthralled by the fear that courses through your veins. He’s playing your life in his hands like it’s a shiny new toy.

He fucks you like a madman as you gasp and beg for air. Tears spill out of your eyes, salty and wet and Tom takes notice.

“Crying?” He sneers, pounding you so hard that you’re sure the bookshelf will leave bruises as it presses against you. “You’re pathetic. A pathetic, filthy little girl.”

“Mmmhhh..” you cry out. Your eyes roll back as you utter incoherent sounds. He growls.

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” And then, with a harsh grip on your hair, “I want to hear you say it. Beg me. Beg me to fill you, whore.”

Your eyes shut tight, and your hands clasp around his wrists as he loosens his grip on your throat.

“Please,” your voice is a gasp as you finally get oxygen unto your system. “Please, Tom, f-fill me up. Cum inside me.”

A small, throaty groan escapes his lips, and with one last desperate thrust he’s spilling balls deep inside your drooling cunt. His cum spills over the cusp of your used entrance, and when he’s done fucking it into you he pulls out with a sharp exhale.

You can feel his cum spill out of your raw fucked hole, the creamy fluid dribbling down your thigh and dripping onto the carpet below. Your clit throbs mercilessly, still devoid of any attention, but Tom is quick to put a stop to that. He drops to his knees, then, and it’s a surprising gesture that you didn’t expect. He doesn’t seem like the type to get on his knees for anyone, let alone you. But his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he spreads your knees and catches his cum into his awaiting mouth. He licks up your hole, circling your clit with practiced precision. You let out a guttural sound when you hear the obscene noises of the cum spilling out of you, along with Tom’s mouth slurping at your cunt vigorously. He works at you over and over, and you clench when you feel yourself nearing your high. It’s almost embarrassingly quick, but you’ve been denied so long that you need to do it and you need to do it now.

“I’m going to…” you gasp out, as he rubs circles into your clit. He lets out a loud grunt against you, his mouth working harder. “I’m cumming—god, I’m cumming!”

Your orgasm washes over you, hits you like a tidal wave in the middle of an incredibly large ocean. Tom works his tongue and lets you ride out your high, and he sighs and pulls away from your pussy when you come down.

He’s gathered enough arousal to fill his mouth generously, and he kisses you flat on the lips. His tongue slides against yours and you can taste your shared arousal on him. You whimper, licking desperately at his salty spend, and it’s messy and sloppy and absolutely depraved. His teeth nip at you as you swallow it all down.

You’re dizzy, on shaky legs. You turn around, finally getting to see Tom’s face coated in your slick and his cum. He grins at you, and something twists in your gut so primal you feel you might burst.

“Better get to studying, Miss Y/L/N,” he says. “It’d be a shame if this missed study session made you fail your OWLs.”

[animasola86]

NSFW Hogwarts in the 1890s Headcanons

Convenient Plot Devices (to make my smut more believable)

(aka Nurse Blainey is a very supportive and progressive witch doctor!)

Every girl over the age of 15 (sometimes earlier) is required to take contraceptive potions as per request by Nurse Blainey who had to deal with horny teenagers and their lack of mind for consequences for too long.

Boys don't have to take them, but can if they are so inclined.

Very reluctantly, the recipe for that potion is taught by Professor Sharp in the Sixth-years' Potions class.

There are potions for every ailment (usually provided by Nurse Blainey), including aftermath soreness or the "potion after" if a witch/wizard forgot to take their contraceptive potion.

There were indeed condoms*, but not every wizard carried them, so the potions and/or a quick disappearing spell had to be used to prevent pregnancies.

*Condoms were usually distributed in barbershops in the late 19th/early 20th century (according to Wikipedia) so I imagine Madam Snelling selling them under the counter in her hair salon.

There is no sex-ed class in Hogwarts, but again, Nurse Blainey is the first to hand out informative literature* or reading recommendations.

The Restricted Section of the library has an entire room filled with erotic fiction, anatomical books and various guides to help out the eager witch or wizard.

*Informative literature included tips and guides for the uterus-bearing population on how to deal with bleeding. As early as 1890, probably even earlier, there was the "invention" of pad-belts/sanitary belts in Victorian England, those were re-usable and I can imagine even easier to use for witches because instead of cleaning them the old-fashioned way, they could just clean them with a swish of their wand. (Read more on the history of menstrual pads here if you're interested.)

Ignatia Wildsmith has seen more horny teenagers making out in front of her Floo flames than people actually using that way of travel.

Ghosts see a lot of things and mostly they don't care about it, unless they are Richard Jackdaw* who likes to stalk those horny teenagers more often than is appropriate.

*Shameless plug: I wrote a smut piece about our favorite horny ghost called The Horny Ghost (how creative).

"Silencio" is the most used spell in the dormitories, boys' and girls' alike.

Hufflepuffs are the only ones who don't have curtains around their beds! But I bet they can think of other devices to get some privacy. Maybe they're masters of the Disillusionment charm!

On that note: only Ravenclaws have their own in-house bathrooms - with actual bathtubs! Slytherins have to leave their common room, and Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs have to walk quite a while to find the nearest bathroom. [Correction: there are bathrooms, one with stalls, one with stalls and bathtubs, in the Gryffindor common room, but only on the girls' side! (Thanks to @mianeryh for pointing that out!)]

But this is a post about HCs, not actual fact/pointing out lazy game design, so I'd like to imagine that all houses have at least one communal bath/bathroom area very close to their dormitories.

*By the way: In the Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms, the girls' dormitories are upstairs, so they have the stairs turning into slides whenever a boy tries to access them, whereas in the Ravenclaw common room, the girls have to go down the stairs and are "only" protected by two suits of armor guarding the way, which in turn makes it easier to sneak past!

Popular make-out places are: the boat-house, the underground harbor, the loft above the Great Hall, the kitchens (poor house-elves), the Prefects' bathroom, the Restricted Section of the library, any dark empty hallway, any empty classroom/storage room, the Undercroft and the Room of Requirement (if they know of them), ...

*Honestly: anywhere is possible in the large castle that is Hogwarts!

Let's talk fashion: we've all seen the HL undergarments of girls and boys, right? Here is an amazing guide by @tamayula-hl about period accurate clothing and their uses in smut writing, very informative!

So based on that I also believe that horny teenagers got tired of all those buttons and layers very quickly and learned spells to make the undressing easier, and/or used "Evanesco" to get rid of clothes entirely (and conjured them back afterwards) - though tbh, I, as a smut writer, don't care too much about how they get naked. They're wizards/witches, they have their ways!

My most used clothing device apart from simple spells: the convenient flap at the front of boys' breeches.

FANFICTION MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Weasel

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!F!Reader

Summary: A back and forth with the infamous Fred Weasley sends the two nemeses into a back-and-forth that lands them in detention, where both their frustration and anger send them into a deep argument full of insults, tension, and revelations.

Warning: LONG, 8k words, lots of scene cuts becuz a LOT happens, rivals to lovers (not really, Fred's obsessed with reader and is a little shit), boy pulls on the pigtails of the girl he claims he dislike type trope, was forced to give reader at least a last name, same for her best friend ( went with one of the most generic name Tiffany), Fred being a little shit, argument, tension, reader is unhinged

A/N: Fun fact about this fic it almost included a Pygmy Puff before I checked and discovered that they were created by the twins for their shop and since they are still students I had to go and swap it up with a baby puffskein. No idea how to describe that fic, there will definitely be multiple parts, enjoy!

There are no other places like Hogwarts.

The scenery, the castle's secrets, and the yearly competition between houses are something to behold.

But what might be icing on the cake is the library. The place where I can lose track of time all the while learning about the magical world.

The library has a hush rule but you can't help the coughs, the few ink pots falling to the ground, or even the giggles here and there but it doesn't bother me one bit, it even helps me focus as I enjoy yet one more day in the castle.

"Hi there Raven."

And there goes my enjoyment.

With a roll of my eye, I direct them toward the annoying voice belonging to none other than Fred Weasley who stands there with his satchel on his side leaning against one of the book-filled shelves.

"Weasel," I acknowledge him with a sigh looking back down at my page.

"Weasley," he corrects drily.

I brush him off as I finish my inked sentence and wait for it to dry before turning the page and asking him what he's doing here.

He leans on the table by his hip and crosses his arms inclining his head towards me, "What is it to you?"

"You being here is a bad omen so either you're here to sell your stupid stuff to the first years," I say glancing at his sachel for a second before looking back down at my work, "Or it involves annoying me and I'm having a good day to waste it dealing with you today."

I don't look at him and instead focus on my next sentence when I hear some shuffling and a piece of rolled-up parchment drops next to me that I recognize all too well.

"You must be kidding me," I groan snatching the parchment from the table.

"Unfortunately no. McGonagall benched me and said that if I wanted to stay on the quidditch team I needed a tutor."

His speech makes me groan as the lines reiterate his rant in a distinguished manner and is signed at the bottom by Professor Flitwick.

"McGonagall sent me to Flitwick who recommended you. Said you needed tutoring on your record."

I let go of the paper and join my hands together placing my thumbs on the base of my nose to try and diminish the incoming headache.

"Soo," he draws out attracting my gaze, "See you later, I'll be waiting for your owl."

I see him walking backward, all cocky as he dares to wink at me before turning around and descending the spiral stairs.

I audibly scoff and slam my notebook closed.

Yet another day ruined by that damn Weasel.

"He's a pest."

"You're exaggerating again," she laughs at me standing up from her seat.

"No, I'm not!" I say shoving the last book in my bag as class just ended, "He's obnoxious and annoying and a nuisance to my peace," I stand up and follow right after her.

It's been a few days since my unfortunate meeting with the least likable Weasley in the library and the meeting with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall this early morning couldn't have gotten any worse since no amount of pleading on my part could get them not to assign me with him. As a supplement I had the redhead walk in on me pleading which had him reveling at my misery digging me into a deeper foul mood.

"He's a funny guy that sometimes goes too far," she says pushing a chair that wasn't tucked under its assigned table.

"He's the bane of my existence," I say full of venom.

She laughs walking toward the classroom's exit," That's romantic."

"No, saying someone is the bane of your existence isn't romantic."

"I'm sure you could turn it into something romantic, like a poem or a book about forbidden love," she daydream walking through the door.

"You read too many romance books," I say stepping outside the classroom when I freeze and feel like I'm going underwater as my body is iced out for a moment.

It feels as if I've been hit with glacius but I'm able to use my voice and squeal in shock as the feeling subsides and I'm brought back from my shock by two giggles.

I see two first-year Gryffindors laughing nervously before they simultaneously decide to run away, one of them letting loose on her wand that was levitating the bucket letting it fall on the ground with a loud clash.

I'm left in the middle of the open hallway surrounded by classmates who just exited their class.

The wind hits me and I feel my body shiver before I look up at my friend whose mouth is covered by her hands in surprise.

I hear it.

The annoying infuriating sound of distant laughter, one I cannot mistake for another.

My eyes zero on him sitting on the transfiguration courtyard's tree clutching his stomach as he laughs balancing himself on the branch.

"You were saying?" I ask her rhetorically still dripping in the pink-colored jelly-like liquid.

She lowers her hands and approaches me slowly trying to wipe my face.

I feel the bubbling of rage making its way up my throat with my breathing taking up seeing him seated up there on the branch looking like a king sitting upon the throne of his buffoonery surrounded by his brainless friends, or rather, George's brainless friends and it makes me snap.

I push her hand away and stomp my way through the hallway onto the courtyard's grass toward him.

"Weasley!" I yell as I march to him.

"Oh, now she remembers my name," he laughs out loud for his twin and his friends to hear as the number of students stopping by increases.

He slides off the branch with ease and starts strutting to me with this damn cocky smile.

George stands up from his leaning stance on the tree, "Fred," he says.

I don't know if it's a warning or a scolding but his intent doesn't matter to me.

My hearing is replaced with the beats of my heart drumming in my ears as my face feels as hot as lava.

My steps get bigger and bigger and the closer his infuriating smirk approaches, the rage escapes me as my hand swings back and closes into a fist before landing in his face mid-step.

The audible hit is met with a groan and while I'm far too small to send him to the ground with a punch it does send him swaying back and hunching over.

In a second George jogs to his twin and hands him support grabbing his elbow as Fred's groan turns into another one of his annoying chuckles.

"You see how she hit me?!" he shouts looking delighted by the situation before he lays his gaze back on me with a bit of blood on his teeth.

His smirk falls and I believe for a moment that I finally did it, I finally managed to instate fear in this jackass before I realize his gaze moved from my frame to someone behind me.

The buzzing in my ears ceases and my hearing comes back to me as the grass crunches under one's weight indicating someone approaching.

A cold sweat travels through my body when I turn around and spot none other than Professor Hooch standing tall in front of us.

By instinct, I take a step back and bump into Fred before jumping aside as if he burnt me which isn't far off as my knuckles are calling out for help burning and tingling from the impact it had on his cheek.

She sends us both one of her infamous hawk looks that could petrify Dumbledor himself, "I presume that display of violence can be explained by your appearance?" her pointed look is directed at me.

I try to wipe the substance off my hair with an annoyed huff.

Her eyes travel to Fred whose head is pointed down grabbing his chin and messing with his mouth moving his jaw from side to side.

"That rewards the both of you with an hour's detention," that answer makes him groan and I point at him with outrage.

"But he-!" My disbelief doesn't reach her before she cuts me off.

"You're both dismissed. Mr.Weasley, I advise you to escort your brother to the infirmary to tend to his injury. As for you, I advise you to go clean yourself up before heading to the infirmary as well, perhaps at a time Mr.Weasley won't be there," she finishes her sentence looking at George who acknowledges her insinuation with a nod.

Still clutching his jaw, Fred is led away by his elbow by George as Hooch walks to stand in front of me, "While I understand your frustration I did expect better from you than violence."

My eyes widen and the breath I take in is cut off, "He-"

"This isn't about Mr.Weasley's childish behavior, he will receive his punishment either way. What disappoints me is that you could've avoided any punishment by reporting this to me or any other professor in the area but instead, you will ecope of an hour's detention as well."

She says shaking her head as she walks away leaving me standing here in the courtyard covered in the substance and an aching fist that doesn't even feel satisfying knowing it didn't teach the jerk anything.

"Why is it so windy today?! I thought it was supposed to be sunny!" I complain trying to be louder than the wind.

"No it's supposed to switch all day, look," my friend says motioning to the daily prophet in her hands bringing the paper closer to my face so I can see the weather section indeed announcing an insufferable change of weather all day.

"You can still spot the puddles from the rain earlier," Luna Lovegood points to the Quidditch pitch where the grass is still two shades darker and the random puddles of water stir with strength from the wind blowing.

My venting is interrupted by a loud collision that sends me twisting around back to the pitch to see Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teammates fighting over the quaffle like rabid dogs in what is supposed to be an amicable match as a form of training.

"Remind me again what's the point of an amicable match if there is no amicability?" I ask turning to face them just to miss the apparent goal from a Gryffindor through one of the Ravenclaw's lowest hoops.

I groan when I recognize the face of the person who managed to pass our defenses as he basks in the small victory.

"What is it raven?! Can't take in the sigh of greatness?!" he gloats seated comfortably on his broom with his red hair all tussled.

His pretentiousness blinds him and his arrogance leaves him to ignore the whistle suggesting the match continues and leaves a fellow Ravenclaw to score in a flash right behind him. The only indicator that anything happened at all is the small thunder of applause and shouts of approval coming from the small gathering of students who decided to kill time and participate in the amicable match to cheer each team on.

His head whips around and the sight of the opposite team scoring sends him tilting his head back with a groan that he tries to conceal but it doesn't escape anyone's notice.

The karma is enough but it is so rare to catch the weasel in one of his life life-learning moments that I don't hesitate before deciding that I need to add my little grain of salt to the wound.

I have it, I have the perfect response to give him right on the tip of my tongue and I wonder for a second if the smirk grazing my lips isn't a giveaway but my witty taunt is stopped when a broom enters my line of vision.

"See?! I told you your presence would do me good. Look at that, bullseye!"

I'm sure he means no harm, I know him to be humble but the poor lad either didn't see Weasley or simply decided to ignore his presence.

The fact that he is being ignored after being wrecked is sickly satisfying and my smirk manages to widen somehow.

It is clear he simply didn't see Fred as this one's scowl sends him silently flying away in an awkward, one-sided staredown that ends with him glancing at me with an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare, silently asking for help.

I stare at him flying further and further away and only look back when I notice George approaching his twin on his broom.

His frustration is clear and the eye roll along with his head thrown back pleases me a great deal.

The devilish idea is too good and it doesn't take a lot of self-convincing before I fall for temptation.

"What is it Weasel, too busy drowning in your own ego you can't pay attention?!" I shout so my sickly honeyed voice reaches him and George as I tuck my now pastel pink hair behind my ears.

'The concoction should last less than a week. This Flemont Potter was a genius!' nurse Pomfrey said.

The scowl adorning his face fills me with warmth and electricity buzzes through my veins knowing I have the last word for once.

"Nice hair," he tries himself at a desperate dig that does not work as Professor Hooch whistles for him to fly back to the match.

Turning his back to me, he flies back to the center of the field I can't help but laugh realizing that it's the first time he turns his back to me without walking away with the last word.

The whistle is blown and the speed at which each team goes at the other's throat could cause whiplash if one wasn't used to it.

I'm focused on a group of players when my peripheral vision drags my eyes to my friend throwing the quaffle with all his strength leaving another small group of three players to speed away.

Taking a moment to take in his throw he looks back down and waves at me with a smile, satisfied with his play.

I wave back with a grin of my own before he disappears out of my sight as a bludger hits him straight in the back of the head with a resounding thunk throwing him off his broom and crashing to the ground.

I hear a loud yell and realize it comes from me as my body instinctively reacts and bolts toward the pitch.

Professor Hooch is already by his side by the time I run to his limp self.

"Is he okay?!" I get caught off guard by my friend reaching him and kneeling at his side before I do.

I stand there looking down at him in shock as people start surrounding the area trying to take a look at the wounded on the ground when I notice the Gryffindor team lowering themselves on the ground including the culprit.

His quidditch robe swings with each one of his steps as he walks towards the commotion very slowly like in a trance.

"You too bring a stretcher," she says shooing away both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw player.

I hear George Weasley calling after his brother who has now reached Professor Hooch kneeling on the ground

"Is he okay?"

How dare he. His filthy meek voice asking about his well-being as if he isn't the reason my friend is lying unresponsive on the ground.

That familiar boiling sensation in my chest rises again and I feel my fists clenching by themselves.

Before I can comprehend my thought process I am bolting toward him. Still, before I can reach him George jumps in front of him getting ready for whatever, a whatever that does not come as I am held up by the waist by two Gryffindor players sensing the hostility.

"What is wrong with you!" I holler up in the air struggling with all my might against the hold of the chasers which is useless against the player's strength.

The rest is a blur, George pushes the douche towards the locker room as I follow the stretcher closely to the infirmary.

"If you stare any harder you're gonna be the first third year student here to achieve wandless magic," she chuckles "It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. back down at her textbook.

"False," I utter not leaving the weasel out of my burning stare.

I notice her raising her head from my side view in wonder.

"Granger," I state chewing on my thumb's fingernail.

The sight of him simply sitting there without any consequences under the excuse of 'it's part of the game, nobody can prove there were any malicious intents behind that strike' drives me mad and haunts my head with multiple scenarios of murder that keep replaying again and again.

"You have to let it go. Pomfresh said he'll be fine."

"He didn't deserve that strike it was targeted to piss me off because I got the last word," I say wincing when I realize I bit my thumb a bit too hard and drew some blood.

"It's part of Quidditch, many, many people took strikes to the head."

"Bullshit. A strike to the head during an amicable match? Come on," I roll my eyes frustrated that everybody seems so eager to just brush this incident off.

"I'm gonna start thinking you're checking him out and not actually glaring at him."

"Have you lost your mind?!" I say louder than intended, my head whipping left to glare at her this time.

There is no silence as the Care for the Magical Creature class takes place outside and the lack of chatter is covered up by the sound of wind rustling the nearest tree's leaves and the distant purrs and grumbles of the different creatures in their pen.

"Is there a problem?"

Unlike McGonagall or Snape, Professor Hagrid's tone of voice isn't accusatory but genuinely one of concern. This concern eats at me as the idea that he might believe even for a moment that my words are targeted towards him makes bile rise in my throat.

"No!" is my immediate response to reassure the professor but the rest of my explanation seems to be stuck in my throat as I have a hard time imagining myself explaining to the class that I was just defending myself at the mention of me hypothetically checking Weasley out.

That same person here in the open classroom with a side smirk plastered on his annoying face trying his best not to laugh at me, not because it would be rude but because not laughing at the right time alongside the rest of the class wouldn't be as satisfying as a full-on public humiliation.

I see Hagrid lowering his chalk and I can already foresight him asking what he might have done wrong which is not something you want to ask as a teacher in front of a bunch of ruthless teenagers.

His other hand joins in on the other starting to mess with his chalk making him appear anxious and way less mighty.

The awkwardness doesn't begin to measure to the remorse of having put him in this situation because of my impulsive nature.

"It's my fault!" my friend shouts in my defense.

Looking at her, Tiffany managed to snatch up a baby puffskein and hold it up to Hagrid's sight.

"I put him in her hair and she was afraid he would do a pooh."

The laughs are inevitable but I'm certain the 'do a pooh' will haunt my nightmare.

The mocking is a harmony of taunting and I can only look beside me to glare at her sitting there with the puffskein in hand as I wish he would just 'do a pooh' in her hands this instant.

At least Professor Hagrid seems reassured, smiles as the misunderstanding is cleared up, and turns back around to continue the lesson.

We're sent to different enclosures containing different creatures and are instructed to feed them to create a bond.

"Look at him acting casual as if he didn't send someone to the infirmary with a trauma to the head," I say full of venom seeing him being buddy-buddy with another Gryffindor girl as they try to feed Mooncalf in the open and have a laugh as they are surrounded by the eager herd starving for pets and seeds.

"Will you quit it and enjoy one of the only course that's relaxing here," she scolds kneeling closer to the ground to feed a diricawl who nibs at her finger affectionately before walking past her hand and pitter-pattering to her to lay his head on her chest to receive pats on his head.

"Plus you've already been told we can't know if the blow was on purpose."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, he's one of the best beaters here," I say with a pointed look at her throwing a violent handful of seeds towards the rest of the diricawls.

"Did I just hear you compliment Fred Weasley?" she says looking up at me with a teasing smile.

"It's not a compliment I'm just stating a fact, the probability of Weasley hitting someone right on the head by accident at such distance is close to none," I say throwing another handful as my eyes catch a paddock with dubogs in it, one in particular who is devouring the weasel with his bulgy eyes.

There are three dubogs in the small paddock and two of them are cooling off in the dirty pond uninterested in anything else but sunbathing with only their eyes above the murky water blinking one at a time as the third one is eating up Weasley with his eyes.

A devilish idea makes its way into my head. The opening I get is served to me on a gold platter as Tiffany is distracted by the herd of diricawl overtaking her landing her on the ground, surrounded.

My chance is heightened by Weasley's back turned to me talking with his little girlfriend.

I take my chance disregarding any rational thought invading my head. Sneakily climbing over the fence, I crouch and walk toward the desired enclosure. The creature doesn't seem to sense me approaching and if he does he doesn't seem to care one bit licking his eye and pawing the ground with his hind leg.

A part of me wishes I could egg him on and ask him if he wants to nibble on the Weasel's ankles but I'd rather not throw my plan out of the window. Instead, I carefully slide my arm to the latch and pull on it slowly to make sure not to make any noise before giving the door a small push to create the crack that seems to be enough to throw the creature out for a jog as he crashes against the paddock's door.

I don't get to see the seconds before the disaster as I have to hurry back and jump over the fence once again, running back to my friend and free her from the diricawl's clutches giving her a hand and raising her back up as the show starts.

The screams that grace my ears aren't from fear but more from shock as the tall redhead lands on the ground when I finally get to lay my eyes on him. The dubog licks him from bottom to top with the creature's natural dirt and slimey skin rubbing off on him as his Gryffindor girlfriend screeches for help calling for Professor Hagrid who runs up to help in a flash.

The man's height isn't only impressive and intimidating but also a great advantage to grab the massive creature off and drag it back to its enclosure where the other two are still sunk in the water, sunbathing and behaving.

Once shut close, Professor Hagrid grips the wooden bars of the enclosure to gather himself before turning around and helping Weasley up with just one hand gripping the back of his blouse. While he seems shaken up by the encounter, he tries to rub off some of the mud on his face but only manages to smear it looking around at the rest of us.

The reactions vary, some are as shocked as he is and others shrug off their worries and are now laughing at his appearance now that they've established that he is healthy and no longer in danger.

I myself giggle knowing that while I can't get him punished for his action back on the pitch, I get to watch him look like a fool and even up the score. My friend does not agree and lets me know by elbowing me in the ribs making me groan mixing laughter and painful grunts.

Laughter that is spotted by the redhead when his head whips to me before his eyes light up.

His eyes shift from eureka to burning hatred. Shrugging off the hand of his friend trying to tidy him up and storms in my direction.

"It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. The confrontation is cut short when Hagrid once again showcases his immeasurable strength by yanking the weasel back with a tug on his now mostly white blouse and throwing him behind his eleven-foot frame that stands now right in front of me.

"Enough with the both of you!" his voice booms in the open area.

He takes a step back and I can get a peak at the redhead enough to see him huffing and puffing from being thrown around like a doll.

"This is a classroom, not a pub. Now the both of you will walk all the way up to Professor McGonagall's office and explain exactly why I had to send the both of you to her and she will be the one to give you your punishment!"

I look at him now, hair disheveled and his tie undone covered in dirt and mud and slime. He still looks somewhat decent as he pushes his hair back with a huff.

I must look just as messy with my pink hair having been thrown on the ground and I decide to tug at the end of my own blouse trying to tidy myself up and avoid any more wrinkles on it.

"Miss Granger, please accompany those two, you know what to do if they misbehave."

"She tried to kill me!" Fred yells pointing at me.

"Do you have any proof, Mr.Weasley?"

He seems to hesitate for less than a second before motioning to me with his hand in frustration.

"It's logical thinking, she hates my gut and she's crazy!"

"You jerk-!" I bellow throwing myself in his direction before I'm engulfed in the Professor's arms.

"Enough!" He yells once more letting me go only when I stop fidgeting in his hold.

"There is no way of proving the Miss did anything. This paddock's lock has been faulty for a while and after this incident, I will personally see that it is dealt with."

He says as if he was addressing the whole class who is still standing all around us watching the event unfold.

"As for the both of you, you will do as you're told and let Miss.Granger accompany the both of you back to the castle and receive the punishment the both of you deserve for the waste of both my time and your classmates' time."

The tone is harsh and the decision is final.

"I am very disappointed in the both of you. You're worth so much more than this petty rivalry," the man shakes his head walking away.

Those words seem to have the same result on both of us. We look down a bit ashamed before we are ushered away by Hermione as we start the long and silent journey back to the castle.

We both stand in silence, side by side with yet a respectable distance as the two professors stand in front of us with judgmental stares that don't need any words to transcribe their distaste…or is it disappointment?

We were sent to our respective bathrooms to clean up 'as best as you can' while my request to wash off completely was denied by both teachers and so here I stand with the back of my blouse tainted by dirt as Weasley could barely wash the slimy texture out of his own blouse and barely dry it with what I believe might have been a spell.

And so here he stands looking dirtier than me despite the order to clean up.

"Now that the awful stench has been managed I believe a proper punishment is in order," McGonagall says with her hands joined in front of her.

"I agree, my cauldrons are in dire need of a scrub," Snape says with his usual disinterested tone.

Weasley starts protesting and claims that I should receive a harsher punishment for my so-called actions.

"She tried to kill me!" he protests.

"And as I told you Mr.Weasley there is no way for us to possibly prove this claim as Professor Hagrid did not see any of this unravel."

"Just like no one saw you throw that bulger." I bite under my breath.

"Exactly Miss.Hermlock. And I would suggest you speak with your full chest if you have any objection." Mc.Gonagall drily berates me.

"Snape-Professor Snape," he quickly corrects himself, "said multiple times that in such cases veritaserum should be used, and since she's SO confident saying she didn't do anything she won't mind doing this, won't she," he says towering over my side.

"I've always known you were a moron but I never thought you would outdo yourself in front of teachers," I smirk crossing my arms.

"Mr.Weasley, even with Miss.Hermlock's permission, the usage of such beverage on a student is forbidden. I would've hoped that with a father working for the ministry, you out of all of us would remember that."

My smirk doubles in size which I thought would never be possible.

In the end, my smirk is wiped away when we are both awarded two hours of detention with Snape. And as if it wasn't enough the punishment is cleaning the endless potion class's cauldrons.

We're ordered to go clean up, thoroughly this time and go for lunch before being expected in the dungeons for our detention hours.

We arrive at the same time just as the last student exits the class, we are left standing side by side, or more precisely 3 feet away from each other as we walk in right in front of Snape's office where he is seated with his head down to his paper purposely stalling and letting us stand there in awkward silence.

What must've been minutes feel like hours as I try my best not to side-eye the redhead standing silently beside me.

I wonder if I should've refrained from opening that damn pen when I hear those continuous scraping of pen meant to insult us as the dark-haired teacher ignore our presence.

He finally puts his feather back in its inkwell before he stands resting both his hands on his desk, "I believe I don't have to remind you what you need to do during those two hours of detention."

Neither of us answers and that seems to egg him on to stand straight and walk around his desk to stand right in front of us, his hands placed behind him.

"You two will clean every single cauldron here, I made sure none of my classes cleaned their equipment to make sure the lesson will stick and you won't have to keep me company again on such a fine day," he says bending to my height and looking straight into my eyes for just a moment before moving his sight onto Weasley, "At least one of you will learn."

Standing back up his speech is interrupted by strong stomps getting closer.

Turning around, the three of us look towards the class's entrance as we spot for a single second a figure sliding across the entrance and disappearing with a loud thud that sounds painful.

It is the first time I make eye contact with the weasel since the last time we butted heads and it is to share a sour scrunched-up expression for the victim of the fall who we hear grunting in the hallway before the sound of their footsteps echoes once more and we see the face of the one who rushed here most likely to speak to Snape.

He's bent over leaning on the door out of breath.

"Berkshire, if you're done fooling around you may grace us with an explanation as to why you're disturbing this detention."

Still out of breath, Enzo Berkshire huffs and puffs for a few more seconds before settling down still bent over.

"It's Nott," he exhales deeply before breathing in once more, "He and Wood started a brawl between quidditch teams, Hooch told me to come get you."

Turning back to the teacher, his eye roll is noticeable and his silence is an obvious assessment of the situation as he probably is planning what to do now that he is torn between us two and the alleged brawl.

"Alright, As the head teacher of house Slytherin, I will accompany Berkshire and assist Professor Hooch in this conflict."

He points to us, "As for the two of you. You will stay here and complete your detention without any complaints. If you leave before your time is up, I will know and that will reward you an entire week of detention."

Pointing at Berkshire, Snape walks past us and orders him to lead them away and with a flick of his wand makes it known that it is thanks to that maneuver that he'll know of us potentially leaving the classroom.

"Behave." is all he says before walking right behind a speeding Enzo Berkshire.

I wonder if he was referring to the both of us or maybe just Weasley.

I don't get to ponder on that before my thoughts are drawn elsewhere at the realization that my worst nightmare is unfolding before me, I am now stuck with the most insufferable student here for two hours doing the most aggravating task besides cleaning the house bathrooms.

I only get back to reality when I hear him throw his robe and satchel on a nearby station.

Being left alone with him, the task at hand, and the absence of Snape to muzzle the redhead angers me as I frop my own bag and stomp to one of the sinks filled to the brim with dirty cauldrons.

I don't even get to enjoy a full minute of tense peace as the douchebag starts his usual yapping.

"Can't say I'm surprised he would leave me alone with you, Snape has always hated me and it's no wonder he left me with you considering you tried to kill me," he mouths off as always lifting a cauldron from its stove and piling it on top of another one.

"And yet you're still breathing, what a shame." I roll my eyes as well as my sleeves picking up a scraper.

A moment of silence passes and I pray this is the moment he realizes he needs to shut up so we can endure the rest of this detention in mild peace but alas this is a good idea and everyone knows that Frederick Weasley never had one of those in his life.

"Damn. The sorting hat must've made a mistake, maybe you belong with the other psychopaths in Slytherin." He throws both cauldrons beside the filled sink with a loud clang.

"I'm sorry but I'm not the one cladding the scales." I bite back.

"Oh, she has claws," he draws out loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask genuinely turning around to face him.

"No, the question is what is wrong with you," He asks back louder.

"Nothing is wrong with me! You're the one who can't figure out when to stop, you're the one who always goes too far and you're the one who went too far once again, so much so that you ended up sending my friend to the infirmary!" I hurl and see him losing that fire that usually overtakes his pupils showing he enjoys egging on people once they are set off.

"It's the risk when you play Quidditch," he tries and fails to sound firm in his statement making me scoff.

"For Rowena's sake, you're still acting as if you didn't purposely throw that bulger at him!" I say running my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I didn't!" he says even less believable.

Done with his excuses I turn back around to give all my attention back to the dirty cauldrons when he manages to slide between me and the sink making me take a huge step back.

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard."

I stare at him, no, I glare at him feeling the urge to punch him again but I remember that it didn't do anything for me the last time and instead opt to let out my frustration by hollering at him and walking away before I make the mistake of punching him and have a Professor magically appear out of nowhere to give me more detention again.

Even when I think I finally win and have him admit to his wrongs he still finds a way to make excuses for himself.

"What were you expecting?! I'm a beater that's what we do!"

Does he really think I don't know what a bloody beater is?!

Is he trying to make me pass off as an emotional wreck because of my appropriate reaction to such injury during a supposed amicable match?!

Any beater whether amateur or professional could agree that either maliciously or not that throw was unwarranted during training.

"There really is something wrong with you," I walk right in front of him, toe to toe, and spite my statement right in his face pushing him aside to gain back access to the sink.

I start scrubbing as my mind throws all the different reasons I despise the fucker. Irresponsible, unfunny, no compassion.

I'm so lost in my spiteful analysis of him that I don't register that my thoughts aren't my own anymore as I unconsciously start rambling out loud.

"An idiot who doesn't even think before taking people down with him," I grumble scrubbing away.

"Come on now it's not like he's dead," He nips throwing down yet another pile of small cauldrons beside me.

"I'm talking about me!" I yell letting go of my current task and letting the pot fall and clang with another one causing a ruckus in the sink.

"Not only is my friend in the infirmary because of you but I'm also stuck with you trying to teach someone who I learned has never been slacking in muggle history before recently."

His jaw slacks open and his eyes double in size like the breakfast sausages I had this morning.

"Wait a minute. You think I'm doing this on purpose?!"

You do everything on purpose! Your dad works for the ministry, he is a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office employee dammit! If anyone is an expert at muggle stuff it's your dad!" I say as a matter of fact.

"And tell me exactly what would it bring me to purposely be bad at this subject all of a sudden?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe to annoy me more often than usual." it sounds like a question but I know I'm just clarifying the situation.

"You think I'm gonna waste my days stuck with you in the library acting dumb for fun?" he tries to ask sarcastically.

"And why not? Beside the library part isn't that what you do all day anyways?"

The quick wit seems like it struck him as he scoffs with a broad smile.

"If you want to be a failure for the rest of your life go ahead and be my guest but I'll ask you not to take me down with you."

That same disbelief smile disappears and leaves place for a blank look that doesn't often grace his face.

"Unlike what you think, success doesn't necessarily come from academic prowesses." he tries to bite.

"Obviously not when it comes to you." I mock before turning back around feeling satisfied for getting him not once but twice in a row.

The triumphant silence doesn't last long before he dwells in a monologue that I don't bother listening to. Instead, I tune him out and start scrubbing which helps to cover the annoying sound of his voice.

His speech feels like hours long but is probably just a few minutes tangent as by the time my ears recognize his next sentence I'm only done with the first cauldron.

"-With such a nasty attitude it's no wonder Murphy didn't show up to your date."

The cauldron clashes with another as I let it fall back into the abnormally huge sink before turning my head toward the nuisance of my life.

"How do you know about that?" the voice that comes out of my mouth is one I don't recognize.

He pauses and seems to hesitate.

"Heard Katie talk about it to her friend."

"I never said anything about it to Katie, 'matter of fact I never said anything about this date to anyone ever so there's no way you heard this through gossip."

"He told me." he tries again even less believable than the first time.

"Bullshit." I seeth.

It's bluff, while I believe I might know Murphy it's not to say that he isn't just like any other guy and simply good at hiding his real intentions.

He starts ranting about some story I can tell is made up on the spot and it's like the wheels stopped turning and the lightbulb lights up in my head with such intensity that the next words come out of my mouth in a loud realization that echoes his own.

"You did this, It was you!" I accuse him with a rageful glare.

He steps back and rolls his eyes tilting his head back, "Oh my-you know what?! Yeah, I did. I warned the guy and I did well because he deserved better than to be stuck on a date with a stuck-up cunt like you." he finishes his tirade by sticking his index finger in my enraged face.

"You're fucking evil." I spit it like it's a statement everyone agrees upon watching him turn his back to me walking farther away.

My outburst is so intense that I have to take a shaky breath and keep my tears at bay as my better judgment is thrown out the window and I decide to finally pour all my frustration out.

"You know, you always take some sick pleasure in telling me I'm cold-hearted," the beginning of my speech is shakey but I quickly regain strength in my voice to let out all my poison,"But you can't even own up to your own fucking flaws and the fact that you're nothing but a jackass who use your so-called 'pranks' to harass everyone in school because they know better to be friends with an asshole like you who's only friend is his twin because no one else wants to be around you!"

My rant is over and the only noise filling the space is my heavy breathing. Catching my breath I feel hot and can barely focus on anything other than my heart beating in my ears as I feel my boiling blood travel all through my body as I stare dead into the eyes of the one who brought me to such an extent of anger.

When my heart settles and I can finally hear my breathing slow down I can focus solely on him and realize that his stare is dead.

He's not glaring, he's just looking. All trace of anger is gone and he's left staring at me or rather through me with dead eyes.

I seem to have struck a nerve and for once the guy doesn't have a comeback. Instead, I'm rewarded with the shoulder shove of a six-foot-something figure who passes me to walk to the sink and starts scrubbing away…

What the heck?

The feeling of regret invades me for a moment but is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

Why should I feel regret? It's not like he ever feels regret for the horrible things he does. He never apologizes to anyone no matter how far he crosses the line.

The regret quickly fades and I instead let the small spot of confidence inside me grow. It's the first time I've ever shut the mouth of the biggest jerk there is, why shouldn't I enjoy it as long as it lasts?

After everything, I'm entitled to this. I'm entitled to twist the knife.

I take a first careful step and then a second, more confident one closer to him and the sink.

"Yeah, I might be a cold-hearted bitch. But you're an arrogant jackass who's not even funny." I say more calmly yet still petty.

"Oh piss off!" he shouts throwing the cauldron back into the sink with a smash that I wonder might have actually shattered or maybe chipped one of them.

I jump aside to avoid another shoulder shove and follow him with my eyesight to spot him grabbing his stuff and realize he is trying to escape this detention to avoid my lash-out.

Figuring out his plan I catch up and run past him to stand in front of the door blocking his way out.

"No! No, You called me what you called me and now I get to call you whatever I want!"

I wonder for a moment why he doesn't push past me, for sure his frame can easily overpower mine but instead of crashing into me to walk out of the potion class he instead turns around and throws both robe and satchel on a station with a shout that almost rivals mine.

"Alright then let's go ahead, get it all out of your system sweetheart." He snarls standing in the middle of the class, his arms expanded before he places them on his hips.

"You!" the bitter tone escapes me in a rough huff as I point at him, "Have done nothing but make my life hell since the day I arrived." I start walking towards him, "And for what? I have NEVER given you any reason to hate me and yet I have been the target of so many of your pranks that I started being known as the damn Weasley's guinea pig!" I throw my finger in his direction before it falls back on my sides as I walk slowly but with conviction towards him.

"There we go!" he says faking being proud probably to egg me on in my rant with a sick smirk bending down to my eye level and crossing his arms probably to toy with me and undermine me as he always does.

"You do nothing at school but be a nuisance and waste everyone's time including mine and it's so sick to think that you can't even let others be successful just because you can't achieve anything on your own, it's pathetic!" I'm getting closer, almost toe to toe with the redhead who doesn't take a step back and stays planted where he stands or rather is bent over.

"Come on let it all out," he snarls.

"But somehow I was still stupid enough to think that this time you would have the decency to at least admit you went too far and apologize for hurting my friend but even then you cannot take responsibility as always," I finish my tirade taking my final step right in front of him as our noses brush.

"Anything else?!" he angrily spits in my face with a scowl.

I breathe in harshly wishing I could punch him or clap back like I did before but realize if my rant hasn't aroused all kinds of empathy it is useless to keep calling him names it won't male a difference.

"Yeah, your attempt to make me look ugly by turning my hair pink completely failed because I still look good unlike you," I say sourly throwing a glance at his mop of hair.

He sneers.

His arms that were crossed in front of him manage to travel up and brush strands of hair behind my ears before his fingers slide down and twirl the locks in his hands toying with them.

When I'm done bathing in the hatred coating his eyes I notice I'm not the only one panting when I feel his breath brush my face.

Why is he panting? I'm the one who just rambled angrily for five minutes.

"Got it all out?" he says calmer this time around.

I look at him and my eyes make the mistake of switching between his eyes and lips just a second to see his doing just the same and analyze my face.

We haven't moved from our spot and I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think so," he whispers his lips brushing over mine with each syllable.

He stands back up, his hands leaving my hair and falling back to his side as he brushes past me leaving me to stand there frozen trying to comprehend the goosebumps littering my body and my hands shaking by my hips.

I manage to turn around and see him grabbing his stuff and making his way to the class entrance once more.

I find my voice, less confident than before but still strong enough to try and stop him.

"What are you doing detention isn't over yet!" I begrudgingly state.

"Then I guess I'll get a week's worth of detention!" he announces walking out with one hand clutching his satchel and the other one throwing his robe over his shoulder.

He's gone, and in the newly found silence, I breathe out through my nose and assess what just happened.

Weasley just mocked me, pissed me off and egged me on, undermined me, and left me in a classroom filled to the brim with cauldrons to clean all by myself after toying with my anger, my hair, and…

My hand bolts into fists and my nails sink into my palms as I conclude what I already know.

I hate him.

[dearabhi]

book dates • harry james potter x reader!

PART 1 of the series!

SUMMARY: harry has a crush on mikayla greene and wants to talk to her. he goes to y/n l/n in need for help.

TROPES: slytherin x gryffindor, strangers to lovers?, almost unrequited love, oblivious daft dimbos!

author's note! hey everyone! welcome to the new series, and this was acc written quite a while ago, just so lazy to post this. aneewayz, the future parts will be posted soon!! [please interact! it might encourage me to write this cute ass fic soon!]

word count: 1k? i guess

warnings! swearings.

—

“Mind telling me why were you stalking me, Potter?” Y/N said, cornering Harry in the library. Look, Harry wasn't exactly stalking her. He just wanted to talk to Y/N, but he is so nervous to do it.  So, Harry decided to just follow everywhere Y/N goes just in case Harry gets the courage to talk to her.

“I was not stalking you, L/N!” Harry manages to reply back. Y/N raises an eyebrow.

“Then why are you following me then?” Y/N questioned him. Harry tries to think of a reply.

“I was not following you either, I just happened to be in the same place as you, L/N” He lies, folding his arms. 

“Potter, I have never ever seen you set foot in the library without the company of Granger.”

Now he has a question he doesn't know how to lie about. He just has to tell the truth then. But at the same time, Harry didn't want to let go of his pride to a Slytherin, either. 

You should've thought of that before thinking of the plan, idiot! says a voice in his head. Shut up! he tells the voice.

Harry sighs and just decides to tell her instead. “Can we sit on a bench while we talk?” He asked to which Y/N nodded at him suspiciously. Harry thought she might think whatever he's trying to do is for some stupid prank.

“I want your help,” Harry said as soon as the two sat on the bench. 

“How exactly?” Y/N asks.

“W- Well, I want you to read some books for me?”He starts. Harry avoids Y/N's eyes now. She is going to laugh at him after he elaborates his master plan. And he would never ever set foot in Y/N's direction ever again. 

“Why would I ever read—” Y/N interrupts.

“Listen to me and you will understand!” Harry says quickly. “First of all, I want you to know that I have a crush on this girl from Ravenclaw. No, I am not going to say her name, sorry. She likes reading books that Hermione says would never read. And I heard you love reading books and would read any kind of book.”

“You see, L/N, I would recommend you to read some books for me and you would tell me whatever the storyline is,” Harry continues. “This is a win-win for both of us. You get to read books. You tell me about them and I get to talk to my crush about it.” Harry concludes.

Harry gathers courage to look at Y/N after elaborating his clever plan. The 'crush' he mentioned is Mikayla Greene. (You can't disagree with Harry on this opinion, Mikayla had a very beautiful laugh and eyes.) 

Harry saw Y/N, who seemed to control an urge to laugh but failed at it miserably. Harry sighed. “You can laugh if you want, I guess,”

Y/N started to laugh very loudly that Harry feared Madam Pince might kick her out of the library permanently. Still, Y/N couldn't be able to control it. 

Harry is mentally planning to sail to a far country and never come back again. Or hide in his Invisibility Cloak forever. He hates listening to his father's ideas now. He should've asked his other dad, instead.

“I— what— made —” Y/N could not even form a sentence at this point. Harry wanted to hit himself for telling her. He was also worried that Y/N might choke on her own laughter. Out of embarrassment, he covered his face.

Finally, after at least five minutes and a warning from Madam Pince, Y/N stopped laughing.

Why was Harry still here anyway? He still wants a reply after fully knowing what Y/N would say. He is a fool like that. That was when Harry noticed Y/N standing, a smile still plastered on her face. “Thank you, Potter.” She says.“I have never had a laugh like this in years.” Y/N started moving. But Harry wasn't done with her yet.

She still has not given her an answer right?

Harry finally caught on Y/N after literally chasing her. “L/N! Wait!” He shouted earning a glare from a third year girl looking at the two. Y/N stopped and turned around to face Harry.

“You still haven't told me the answer!” Harry manages to say to her despite the fact he was running out of breath.

Y/N cleared her throat, and chuckled again and replied quite firmly with a straight face.  “No.”

｡˚ ✧˚ · .

Harry being the idiot he is, did not take the rejection by Y/N for his plan to his heart. He was quite determined that Y/N would somehow accept the deal.

Harry actually knew the reason why Y/N didn't accept his deal. Harry has actually never talked to Y/N despite the fact sharing a couple of classes through the years. She probably thought he was trying to get into a prank or something.

So, what if Y/N actually gets to know about Harry? 

Harry tries that too. 

Unfortunately, Harry's all gryffindor traits left whenever he approached the h/c slytherin. He would just create a lame excuse and move out of whatever place he was in immediately.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you, you're bad at whatever you are doing right now? because you actually are.” Y/N suddenly said when Harry tried to approach to talk to her when Y/N was reading in the library.

Harry, who was (pretending to) read— looked up to the Y/N sitting in front of him. “What do you mean, L/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry. “If you ever want to say something to me, Just say it. Anyone with a brain would know that you have been trying to approach me for the past two weeks.” 

She was coming straight to the point. Shit. What would Harry say now? He had this planned didn't he? Then why the heck is he getting nervous?

“I—I actually needed to talk to you about the plan I told you the last time. This time with a better offer,” Harry started. Y/N clearly looked disinterested. “I swear you will like it, L/N!”

“Entertain me then,” Y/N told him in a dull tone.

“Um— So, Hermione told me that there is going to be a new bookstore in Hogsmeade.” If it isn't anymore obvious, Hermione is unaware of Harry's plan, by the way. “Perhaps if you accept to help me with my plan, I would buy books from the stores on our every hogsmeade visit.”

Harry looked at Y/N eyes, which were now sparking in excitement. Y/N cleared her throat and looked convinced, maybe?

“I will maybe accept this foolish plan of yours— let me finish before frightening the whole Hogwarts with your scream,  Potter— If you read whatever book it may be with me— No! I am not finished yet! — I will only read the book if it interests me.” Y/N explained. Harry tries  not to scream and (in Y/N's words,) frighten the whole Hogwarts with his scream.

“.. and that's it?” Harry asked Y/N, after she went on and went on with her rules. 

“I will add more rules if you continue to annoy me, Potter. ” Harry rolled his eyes at that.

Atleast, Harry having Mikayla Greene as his girlfriend isn't in the far future anymore.

[drawlfoy]

benefits of journaling p.2

read p1 here!

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: recreational drug use, language, mild gore, snakes, a mouse gets eaten (thoughts and prayers), tom is a little bit gaslighty, the quality of my writing declines sharply

a/n: note that this is not finished at all, but i'm not planning on finishing this series unfortunately :/ i just have too much going on. this is unedited, unrevised, unoutlined, etc. so adjust your expectations accordingly. i just kind of want to get this out so i've given u guys at least *some* semblance of closure for this series. (UPDATE: now that i’ve written this i’ve changed my mind. i will be working on the next part. i forgot how much i love tom)

wc: 6.7k

enjoy !

This time you were unceremoniously dumped into a hard wooden library chair. You gasped as you braced yourself against the hard table in front of you, drawing in shaky breaths as you gathered your bearings. 

 A loud bang startled you into wrenching your gaze up. Tom had dropped a thick book with an ebony cover right next to you, nearly atop your hand. 

“Here you are,” he said pleasantly. “Happy reading.” 

“Do you think I can take this back with me into my world?” you asked. The cover was smooth under your fingertips. 

“Unlikely,” said Tom, dropping elegantly into the chair beside you. “You’ll have to read it here.”

You gulped. “Alright.” 

The papers were yellowed and fragile against your touch, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how old it was. 

“Any section you’d recommend starting with?” 

The book was around 700 pages with tiny, fine print.

“Perhaps the beginning.” Tom waved his wand and wordlessly summoned a stack of books, lifting one up and beginning to read for himself. 

You’d thought that you’d be less intimidated knowing that he was also doing something besides staring at you reading, but the back of your neck still prickled as you pulled the book to the edge of the table and began to dig in.

It was bizarre, reading next to a boy like this. The only one you ever studied with before had been Ishan, and he hardly counted. It was different with Tom. His presence hung in the air around you, a tension so tangible that it wasn’t unthinkable that you might feel something if you let your fingers sift through the space between you.

Despite all you’d told Tom, spending time around him made you unfathomably nervous. He was too good-looking to feel even remotely normal around him, and it was all you could do to hope that he didn't notice how much you blushed whenever he spoke to you.

The book he’d given you was dense and horrific, detailing magic so ugly and foul that you felt dirty just reading it. It covered topics you’d heard of before, like cases of the Imperius curse or the misuse of love potions or the nature of dark magic. 

But there was nothing pertaining to Tom’s situation.

“Can’t you at least point me towards a chapter? Or…a general section of the book?” you asked him. 

Tom lifted his gaze from his work, quirking a brow. “Having trouble?”

“This is going to take me forever to read.” You motioned at the width of the book. 

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing much more of you.” 

You couldn’t fight back the flush that spread across your face. “Well, this is an easily solvable problem. You really ought to just point me to the most relevant part.”

“And here I was, thinking I was doing you a favor,” said Tom. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment you thought you saw the slightest suggestion of a smirk on his lips. “Given that you’re such a glutton for knowledge and not at all singular in your academic pursuits.”

“That’s not—” You paused when you saw the amusement on his face. He’d been playing with you. “I’m flattered that you remembered. I suppose you’re right.”

And since you refused to let him win, you flipped the book back open and picked up right where you left off. 

It was really stupid to feel so light at the fact that Tom had remembered a sentence you’d said verbatim, because even if it implied that he’d thought about your last interaction enough to commit it to memory, it was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do in his empty version of Hogwarts except read books he’d probably already read many times before.

You snuck another look at him a few chapters later. A few waves had fallen across his face, dangling over his brow. For a moment, all you could do was keep yourself from reaching out to tuck them back into order, to know what it felt like against your fingers.

But that was a boundary you hadn’t crossed yet—if you even could. Who knew how the rules worked in this dimension?

You resolved to believe that you couldn’t touch him. That it was impossible. Because if you believed that, maybe you’d stop wanting to. 

“You never ended up telling me if you were a Parselmouth,” you realized aloud after you’d completed another gruesome section about ritualistic Dark Magic. 

You watched him closely but didn’t detect even a glimpse of surprise. 

“I didn’t,” he agreed smoothly. He didn’t look up from his page. 

“So? I gave you a secret. Many, actually.”

“I think you already know.” He turned the page, dark eyes darting across the next. 

“Well—” You paused, worrying your lip between your teeth as you realized that he was right. “What’s it like?” 

That was what prompted him to finally lean back in his chair and lift his gaze from the book to your eyes. 

“What’s it like?” 

Repeated back to you, it did sound very silly. 

“I mean,” you said, cheeks hot, “What do you even talk to snakes about? The weather? Whether or not there’s enough mice in the area?” 

“It’s unlikely to find snakes that do more than listen to me,” he said. “Most aren’t very good conversationalists.”

“A boy in my—our, I guess—year has a pet ball python,” you told him. “I just don’t understand why he’d want one. They don’t seem like very good companions.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have no emotional depth,” you said. You could feel your voice slipping into the tone you used when you tutored younger students, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d researched this extensively in the library after the Incident in third year when you were looking for any good academic reason for how terrified you were of Malfoy’s pet. “They have no limbic system, so everything for them is about survival. There’s no—no mutual concern or love like you’d get from something normal, like a cat or an owl. As their handler, you only matter because you’re what keeps them alive. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over that.” 

“So all your companions have to love you?” Tom was resting his chin in his palm now as he looked at you. “They’re worthless otherwise?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you responded. “But I like my company to see me as something more than an avenue for survival or a means to an end.”

“Their companionship isn’t enough?”

You blinked. Everyone else that you’d given your reptile spiel to had completely understood. You couldn’t quite figure out why Tom wasn’t agreeing. “It’s just nice to be cared about, don’t you think? And it’s…it’s nice to care about something without it feeling meaningless.” 

“I imagine that that’s true,” Tom said evenly. 

Something deep inside you twisted at the implications of his answer. You’d sort of forgotten that he grew up in a muggle orphanage and likely didn’t have any sort of emotional closeness during his early childhood. But he was so pretty and sharp and witty that it was hard to imagine no one caring for him. Perhaps that had changed upon his admission to Hogwarts. He had said that witches and wizards found him charming. You could attest. 

~

You passed the following Potions lab with flying colors and a perfectly brewed Draught of Peace that made even Snape nod approvingly. It was thrilling. It was incredible. All you wanted to do was get Tom’s diary out right then and there and document it as it happened—as if he were right beside you—but you refrained. You told him that night instead, when you were back again for another reading session.

You were falling into his world on a daily basis, devouring as much of the book as you could without forgoing any conversations with Tom. He’d been impressed to hear about your potion in his own very Tom way. He didn’t tell you outright that he thought that you were brilliant or smart or incredible. Instead he seemed entirely unsurprised, like he thought you capable of nothing less. Somehow that made you glow more than any explicitly stated praise that he could’ve offered.

When you weren’t reading, you were walking around the grounds with Tom and just talking, much like you used to write to him. At first you’d been nervous and uncomfortable with being as open with him in person as you’d been in writing, but Tom had a funny way of making you feel seen. Despite his slight aloofness and obvious air of pretension, he listened to you and appeared genuinely interested in your life by way of remembering things you’d said months ago.

Like when you’d told him off-handedly that it was raining back in the real world and that it was your favorite weather, and ever since the Hogwarts you were transported to was constantly overcast with torrential downpours unless you two were walking outside. 

You still never dared to touch him, though. That was a line that you refused to cross. Tom seemed to hold the same opinion, keeping a wide berth around you whenever tactile contact was in the realm of possibility. 

“How did you become a Parselmouth?” you asked him one day while you were taking a break from reading and walking through the Transfiguration Courtyard. 

His eyes narrowed as he turned to you. “Do they not teach you about Parseltongue in Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore?”

“No,” you said. “I’ve only ever heard about it by reading a book from the Restricted Section. It was very vague. All I know about it is that it’s the language of reptiles.” 

“No one becomes a Parselmouth.” Tom turned his attention back to the walking path, adjusting the cuff of his robes for just a second. “All Parselmouths are born. It’s entirely hereditary.” 

“So did you have to learn it?” you asked. Your interest was piqued—you’d never heard of a language that was passed through genes.

Tom shook his head. That one rogue strand of black hair had escaped its orderly wave, just like how you remembered him from his yearbook picture. “I’ve never had to think about it. I’ve just always known how to say what I want.” 

“Do you think that you could…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed thickly. You weren’t even sure why you’d started asking him that question. Of course he couldn’t teach you Parseltongue. You didn’t even really want to know it, either. You’d never use it. But you hated being told that you didn’t know something. That you couldn't know something. 

“We can give it a try,” he offered. 

You dared to glance back up at him and found him already looking at you. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He appeared to be making a valiant effort to quell a grin. “I suppose it has something to do with your approach to acquiring knowledge. One could almost call it…gluttonous in nature.”

You sent him a glare.

Tom shrugged, properly smiling now for the first time in front of you. He had shallow, almost perfectly circular dimples. “Anyway. I’ve never taught anyone before. I actually don’t believe it to be possible, but we might as well give it a go.”

“You’ve never tried?” you asked. “None of your friends at Hogwarts asked you to teach them?”

“No,” he said. “No one knew I was a Parselmouth. I kept that a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again. “I enjoy my privacy. Right, then. Serpensortia.”

A large, hissing snake appeared at your feet, thrashing about in the grass as it unhappily acclimated to its new environment. 

You yelped, leaping nearly a foot in the air. Tom simply stood still, watching you with an amused expression on his features.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let your eyes move from the wriggling snake in front of you. “I’m just—surprised.”

“It won’t hurt you.” His voice was low, gentle. “Don’t be afraid.” 

“I’m not,” you said, but the slight wobble in your tone betrayed you. “Just—get on with the lesson, alright?” 

He stood silently, his head tilted in concentration.

“What’s it saying?” you found yourself asking. “Is it—I dunno—threatening my life or something?”

Tom sent you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s scared of you.”

“Really?” A spark of smugness lit up within you.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“It’s expressing how upset it is at how suddenly I’ve conjured it. Apparently we’ve interrupted the start of its meal.”

“What do I say if I want to apologize?” 

 He appeared to consider your request for just a moment before opening his mouth and making a hissing noise that you didn’t think you could replicate if you had a thousand years. 

The snake immediately quieted and stopped its thrashing, its tiny head lifting from the ground to regard Tom curiously. 

He looked back at you, expectant.

“Again, please,” you said. “A little slower this time. I didn’t quite catch it.” 

He obliged, going through each syllable separately.

You felt very much like you were back in muggle school before you’d found out you were a witch, being forced to read out a passage in French. The sounds that came out of you were clumsy and not at all what you thought they’d sound like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you accused. “For the record, I know it was bad.” 

He didn’t address it beyond just the slight upward twist of his lip before he repeated it again, syllable by syllable.

You tried once again with the same outcome. 

“Your tongue should be a little behind your teeth,” he said. “You have yours too far back on the roof of your mouth, which is why you’re losing control. Try again.” 

This time, it came out much cleaner. The snake took notice of you for the first time, its dark scales glistening under the cloudy sky. It hissed something back. Tom’s mouth split into a grin.

“What did it say?”

“It wants to know if you have any food,” he told you. 

“What’s ‘yes’?”

Saying yes in Parseltongue was much easier than saying sorry—it only took two syllables, both of which were made up of sounds that you were pretty sure you had in the English language.

The snake was giving its full attention to you now. Its forked tongue stuck out for just a second. 

Gulping, you accioed a small stone into your palm and cast a quick charm to transfigure it into a mouse—something that you’d learned years ago. 

You set it on the ground and watched the snake lunge.

“Gross,” you said under your breath, wincing as it began to swallow it whole, its body twisting and contorting as it shoved it down.  “I—I think I’m done with the lesson now. I’ve learned enough.” 

“You really didn’t need to feed it,” Tom pointed out helpfully. 

“Yeah. I know that now. I just felt like it deserved something for the trouble.”

Once the snake had succeeded and the only evidence of the mouse was a bulge in the adder’s scales a little past its head, it lifted its head again to meet your eyes, its tongue slithering out as it made a sharp hiss. 

“What’s it saying?”

“It thanked you,” said Tom. He was giving you that look again—like he was reconsidering you. 

“And if I wanted to say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“I thought you said you were done with the lesson.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Consider this my last request. I’d like to be polite.” 

Tom let out a sigh, then made a sound that glided from a long S to a few sharp, pointed consonants. 

You clumsily mimicked him, feeling like your tongue was much larger than you’d ever bothered to notice. 

To your surprise, the adder slithered towards you, dragging itself onto the rock of the courtyard and in front of you. It coiled around your shin, slowly pulling itself up your body.

“Tom!” you whisper-screamed through your teeth.

“It’s alright,” he said. 

“Do something!” 

The snake continued up your leg, looping once around your waist as it continued its ascent up to your shoulder. It was cold and oddly heavy, its scales clammy against the bare skin of your neck.

For one terrifying moment, you thought that it was going to coil around your neck and squeeze until you asphyxiated. Your breath caught in your throat as it came around behind your neck, both ends dangling around your neck as you were paralyzed with fear. 

Then it did the most peculiar thing; it stopped, just hanging in a loose hold around the base of your neck, its face nestled into the collar of your robes. 

“What’s it doing?” you whispered. You tried to ignore the lump in its body that you could feel at the side of your neck.

“It’s resting on you,” said Tom. 

“Why?”

“Because it likes you.” 

You stared at him, floored. “It does not.”

He hissed something to the snake around your neck. It responded with something you couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“It just told me so,” said Tom.

“How do I know you didn’t just make that up?” you said, mentally crossing your arms across your chest but refraining since a snake was taking residence there at present. 

“You don’t trust me?” asked Tom. “I’m hurt.” 

Before you could respond, you felt the slow, languid movement of the adder as it lifted its head from your collar. Without thinking, you offered it your hand, watching in quiet fascination as it slithered around your wrist.

“Hi,” you said shyly, like you’d speak to a nervous cat.

“It won’t understand—”

“I’m aware, Tom,” you interrupted, sending him a look before turning back to your wrist. “We’re bonding. Bugger off.” 

He held his hands up in exasperation. “Bonding? Are you going to take him back to the real world as your familiar?” 

For a moment, you actually considered this.

“Because that’s a terrible idea,” continued Tom, crushing your dream right then and there. “Adders are venomous. Once you don’t have me around, you won’t be able to communicate with it. It’ll probably bite someone.” 

“Then perhaps we should start brainstorming ways to bring you back,” you said. “For safe snake handling, if nothing else.” 

Tom didn’t say anything to this; instead, he reached out and gently unwound the adder from your wrist, his skin not brushing yours once. 

“Surely there’s someone wondering where you are,” he said once the snake had been deposited on the ground. “You’ve been here longer than usual.” 

“Do you not want to get out of here?” you asked, frowning. “It hardly seems like you’re trying.” 

“I’ve been doing research when you’re not around,” he said simply. “I think I just need to theorize for a bit longer—figure out the best course of action.” 

“The process would be sped up significantly if you let me help.”

“I won’t ask that of you. It’s very complicated magic—” He paused for just a moment, noticing the derisive curl of your mouth. “—Not that I think you incapable, of course. But you’ve better things to do. It would distract from your exams, and I tend to work better alone in this stage of research.”

“Oh,” you said, hoping the hurt wasn’t showing on your face. It made sense that he would want to work on this alone. You understood not wanting to have to explain things to people when you could already be going down a rabbithole that you’d deemed important. Plus, your current Tom rendez-vous schedule was eating enough time as it was. But it still stung. 

“You’ll be the first to know if I stumble across anything conclusive,” said Tom.

You snorted. “Obviously.”

“Well—” Tom stopped himself. You thought for a moment that you detected the slightest flush across his pale skin, but that was likely because of the chill outside. “That was more clever in my head. Sorry.”

“I imagine that being in solitary confinement for half a century might addle your mind a bit,” you offered diplomatically.

“My mind is not addled.”

“I was very graciously giving you an easy out.” 

“Someone is probably wondering where you are,” he repeated, his jaw tense. “So I’m going to send you back now.”

Without giving you another chance to argue, you were catapulted back into your desk chair.

~

“You look like you could do with a night out,” Lucy observed as she watched you storm into your dorm and send your satchel flying through the air to land messily on your bed.

“Casting my first and last Unforgivable on McLaggen would be preferable,” you said through gritted teeth. 

He’d been your partner today in Arithmancy to work on a partner problem set. It apparently wasn’t enough for him to be dreadfully stupid and slow—he had to be an absolute chauvinistic arse about it. Whenever you attempted to correct him, he’d look at you with so much amusement that it made your head pound.

He didn’t even need to say anything—the look in his eyes told you that he didn’t even see you as a person. 

The last person to treat you so dismissively had been Pansy Parkinson, but at least she’d been smart. And a witch. McLaggen dripped with conceit and smugness and was disgusting towards the most pureblooded witch on a good day. 

It’d been nearly 3 hours and your blood was still boiling. 

“Well, I can’t arrange that,” said Lucy. “But I can tell you that Hufflepuff is throwing tonight. McLaggen probably won’t come—Ernie hates him, and he’s the one who put it all together.” 

You considered this, looking longingly once at the bag on your bed. You hadn’t done anything with your friends in forever; nearly all the time you had was spent either studying or with Tom. 

The Hufflepuffs were always gracious hosts, too. The last time you’d gone, they’d given you something to smoke that had smelled like a meadow on a sunny spring day and made you feel like you were floating. You’d giggled all night with Lucy, clinging to one another. You’d gone on some tirade about how much you loved her, touching her face and tearing up as you said something about how you didn’t know what you’d be without her. Lucy’d beamed back at you, her face wide open with raw gratitude. 

It had been sappy, but it had been fun and one of the few positive memories you had from the disaster that had been O.W.Ls season. 

“You know what,” you said slowly, watching Lucy’s face light up, “I think that’s just what I need.” 

Tom could wait. 

Lucy squealed and got right to work. In seconds, all the clothes you’d brought from home were strewn across her bed as she scrutinized each one. 

“I thought this was just going to be, like, a chill thing,” you said. 

Lucy picked up a sequined top, held it up to your chest, and wrinkled her nose. “Too loud.” 

“Lucy—”

“I never get to go out with you,” she interrupted, yanking a black slip dress from the pile that caught the warm overhead light. “Thoughts? We could do some fun earrings or something to dress it up.” 

“Are we not just going to sit in a circle and smoke again? This feels a little overkill.” 

“Well, it’s not,” said Lucy, throwing it at you. “This is hardly a ballgown. Plus, this is your annual outing. Dress to impress.” 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the straps off the hanger, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned around to change.

Lucy continued her rampage, ooh-ing and aah-ing upon seeing it on you and immediately cornering you with a scary looking brush.

“For your eyes,” she said, like that made you feel any better. 

“What?” 

“Close them.” 

You squeezed them shut, willing this to be over. You’d had your own experience with muggle makeup, which was tame and not at all exciting. The Wizarding World always had interesting takes on beauty tools, like charmed kohl that could turn your entire eye black if you weren’t careful enough. 

Something cool and wet swiped across the corner of your eyes. Lucy mumbled something under her breath, and there was a slight ruffling at the end of your lashes, like a light breeze had swept through them. 

“Open.”

You blinked, your lashes feeling a little heavier. 

“Pretty,” said Lucy, nodding seriously. “Hang on. Do you have a lip color preference?” 

You stared. A lip color preference? “Er—whatever you think makes the most sense with my undertones.” 

“You would say that,” Lucy replied, already holding a wand of lip gloss. “Put this on.” 

When you turned to look into the mirror she was holding out, you nearly started at your reflection. Lucy had done something insane with your lashes, curling them up and adding length that didn’t look too obvious. That weird tool she’d used on your eye had created a sharp, clean line that followed the contour of your lashline and licked out at the end. 

You looked really pretty. Not quite Tom Riddle level pretty, but pretty nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said, turning back to Lucy after you’d applied the gloss she’d given you. It smelled faintly of something that you couldn’t quite place—like old parchment and the memory of walking through the library in the middle of the night. It was the strangest scent you’d ever encountered in a lip product. 

Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs did not disappoint. They’d bribed house elves into bringing an entire spread of food that was fragrant and under a constant stasis spell to keep an optimal temperature. You spent the evening chatting with your Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends and feasting on ripe slices of pineapple and bites of strawberry that stained your already glossy mouth a vibrant pink. 

Then Hannah Abbott reached into her pocket and pulled out a stash of corked bottles. 

“Party Potions,” said Lucy in wonder as you both stared at the swirling liquids.

You’d heard of them before but had never personally had one. You weren’t entirely sure what they did, in all honesty, and that stressed you out enough to keep you from giving them a whirl. 

They were different vibrant colors—one an opalescent pink, one a vibrant orange, one a blood red, one a deep, midnight blue that reminded you of your house colors. 

“Anyone want one?” asked Hannah, motioning to her pile. Terry Boot raised a hand and plucked the orange one from the table, uncorking it and downing it in one go. 

“What do the different colors mean?” you asked. The longer you looked at them, the more you were mesmerized. 

“I don’t remember,” admitted Hannah. “Nothing crazy, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think,” you repeated.

“Just because I don’t remember why I bought each color doesn’t mean that I would’ve purposefully bought something that did bad things,” Hannah told you. “Here. Take one. It’ll help you relax.” 

The midnight blue potion sat on the fingers of Hannah’s outstretched palm. 

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“I promise it’s nothing too intense,” said Hannah. “You’ve smoked before, right? I’ve had one and it was honestly just like getting crossed. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of smoking, common sense flew out the window. The last time you’d been offered an illicit substance in the Hufflepuff Common Room, things went really well. Who were you to deny that again?

“If you’re sure it’s alright for me to have it,” you said. The bottle pulled easily from Hannah’s hand and into your grip.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Lucy was grinning at you widely. 

Up close, the midnight blue wasn’t solid—there were specks of silver in there, like thousands of stars littered across the night sky. It was stunning. You felt almost bad uncorking it and downing it, but you didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess.

It tasted like lavender and honey and something burnt that was horribly gross but faded away with time and went down like water. 

“You didn’t save anything for me?”

“Sorry, Luce,” you said, swiping the back of your hand across your lips. 

You weren’t feeling anything yet. Or were you? Was this how you normally felt? The ceiling of the Hufflepuff common room definitely didn’t move, right? And Lucy typically wasn’t outlined in a fuschia pink. That you were sure of.

“Whoa,” you said dumbly.

“I think Y/N’s feeling something!” called out Hannah. “What’s it like?”

You stared at her, watching as a warm brown that reminded you of English Breakfast tea with milk stirred in surrounded Hannah’s edges. 

“You’re such a good person,” you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes, because Hannah Abbott truly was. “And so are you.” 

You turned to Lucy, trying your best not to cry. “Did you know that you’re the color pink?”

Lucy nodded gravely. Later she would laugh about this, but not now. “That’s very kind of you.” 

You spent the evening in a daze, staring open mouthed at your friends as you saw different colors swirl around, some overlapping and blending. 

It was beautiful. Then the sadness kicked in. It wasn’t clear to you exactly what caused your sudden rush of melancholy—but all of a sudden you were staring at the happy people dancing around you, the colors blurring and mingling, and all you could think about was Tom. Tom, who was all alone. Tom, who might never get out. Tom, who was destined for an eternity of loneliness. 

“I’m going to go back,” you said to Lucy, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention. 

She frowned. “Aw, why? Are you not feeling well?” 

“The potion Hannah gave me is making me feel really tired,” you said. It wasn’t a lie. Your eyelids were heavy and the thought of curling up under your blankets sounded better than anything. Well, almost anything. There was something you needed to take care of first. 

“Booooo,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Do you want me to walk you back?” 

“No! I mean—” You gulped. “You’re having fun. I’ll be fine getting back. I think Ron’s on the rounds in our part of the castle. He’s not going to write me up.” 

“You sure? I’d be happy to take you.”

You started pushing her in the direction of the other party-goers. “Very. Go have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.” 

By the time you’d burst back into your room, your chest was heaving with exertion from sprinting up the stairs as you wrenched open your desk drawer and pulled out the journal.

Tom you wrote. Can you let me in? 

He didn’t answer; instead, you were falling through space and into the warmly lit Hogwarts library from the 40s. 

“Tom!” You couldn’t stop the grin that came across your face. 

“Oh—hello.” Like always, Tom was standing tidily a polite distance from you, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Unlike always, he was staring at you like you’d just shot his dog. 

“Is everything okay?” The potion you’d taken was definitely still in effect. An inky blackness was hanging around his shoulders—a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. 

He swallowed, his eyes darting up and down. “Yes. Sorry. You just look a bit different.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I was at a party. Did you know you have a black aura?”

“What?”

“Your aura is black,” you repeated, slower this time. 

He just stared at you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, averting your eyes. Maybe he was insecure about having such a lame aura color. It had been a bit rude of you to point that out all willy-nilly. 

“I’m not—” Tom stopped, pressing his lips together before continuing. “I’m sorry, is there a reason why you asked to see me? Surely you don’t mean to read after you’ve just stepped out of a party?”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly you remembered why you’d come. A somberness dropped over you. “I was just…I was having so much fun tonight. And then I thought about you.”

He stayed silent.

“What’s going to happen to you if I can’t get you out?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked at the back of your eyes. “Are you just going to be stuck here forever? Won’t you be lonely?” 

When he didn’t immediately answer and opted to stare at you in shock instead, you continued.

“Because I keep thinking about what might happen if something happens to me or I lose your journal,” you confessed, now ardently choking back tears. “I really worry about you. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help you leave.” 

“Are you…” His eyes darted up and down you again. “Drunk?”

“Hardly,” you said, swiping angrily under your eyes as you collapsed onto the loveseat that you so often read on, pulling your knees to your chest. Then, quieter: “It was just some potion a friend gave me.”

“If you’re so worried about something happening to you so that I’m left alone…” You weren’t looking up at him, but the increase in volume told you he was coming nearer. “...May I suggest not taking mystery potions?”

Before you could issue a retort, the loveseat cushion shifted to accommodate the weight of a second person, sending you toppling over to the other side. 

Right onto Tom. 

Your hands went flying to the opposite armrest, fingers digging into the worn blue velvet with a death grip as you righted yourself, pushing your knees from where they’d landed sprawled in Tom’s lap.

Which you could actually touch, by the way. The implications began rolling in once you were back on your respective side. He’d been solid and warm and completely void of any attributes that may suggest he was a ghost. Which meant that it was probably possible to…

No. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now. 

“I didn’t realize I could touch you,” you heard yourself saying, staring at him in wonder. “I just assumed I couldn’t.” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh.” 

And for purely scientific purposes (no reputable academic came to a firm conclusion based off of a single trial), you reached your hand out and experimentally poked his forearm again. 

“Wow,” you said.

“Will you stop that?” said Tom. 

“Yes.” You retracted your hand and placed it firmly in your lap. Then, because your manners hadn’t completely abandoned you: “Sorry. That was rude of me. I just sort of assumed that since you’re—well, whatever you are—it’d be like touching a ghost or something.” 

“Whatever I am,” he echoed, looking off into the distance with what you could only describe as a very harrowed expression. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, but you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. 

Instead of responding, he buried his face in his hands, heaving a heavy sigh as his fingers tangled into his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

He just shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hands once before he let them fall. 

“Er, all right then,” you said. “Would you like me to leave? I’m sorry for bothering you.” 

“You really shouldn’t worry about me,” he finally said. The awkward, slight pauses between his words gave you a sneaking suspicion that he was choosing his words very carefully. 

“Of course I’m going to worry about you.” Now that you knew that you could touch him, nothing stopped you from reaching out to flick his arm indignantly. “We’re friends, and I like to think that my friends would worry about me if I was stuck in journal jail. Or whatever this is.” 

He was still staring at where you’d touched his arm. 

“...Unless you don’t want to be friends,” you added, suddenly feeling a little silly for jumping to such rash conclusions. “Which I’d understand. I can give your journal to someone else. A Slytherin, maybe. Someone a little more your speed.” 

You decided to blame the potion for the obvious hurt that had seeped into your voice at the prospect that there was someone else who was better suited as his confidant. 

“I don’t want you to do that,” Tom eventually said. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Then what do you want?” The strength in your words surprised even you. “I don’t understand you. You tell me you want to get out, but you still won’t let me help you. You let me talk to you and come visit you and read with you, but then you expect me not to care. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense.” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Tom, thumbing the ring he always wore around his finger. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“So help me understand!” Your voice rose sharply, echoing off the walls of the empty library. 

Tom finally turned to you, his face split open with something so uncharacteristically raw and open that it takes everything within you not to gasp. 

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” He drew in long breath. “Not right now. I need more time.”

“Oh, a half century wasn’t enough?” you retorted. “Need another?” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Tom, an edge of franticness in the way he spun the ring around his finger quicker. “I never thought that I’d—I didn’t think I’d ever be found. I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

You didn’t know what to say to this. Instead, you sat there with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, eyes set on the floor, your mind racing with all the implications of everything you’d learned.

A moment passed. Then another. Once it appeared clear that you weren’t going to say anything back, Tom spoke up again. “You’re angry with me. I understand that this is…” He paused. “Unconventional. But I am grateful you’ve found me, and I’d really rather prefer that you don’t give me away to another student.”

You were just about to respond when—

“But of course I’d understand if you did,” he added hastily. 

It was the most unnervingly emotional speech you’d ever seen come from Tom, ever the stoic, and under the influence of the potion that Hannah had given you, it was almost enough to make you give in and move on. But not quite.

“You said ‘supposed to’.” Your eyes still didn’t move from where they were trained on the scuffed wooden floor of the library. “You said ‘I wasn’t supposed to be found.’”

“That’s right.”

You turned to look at him, inky black aura spilling over his equally dark hair. “‘Supposed to’. Like you knew this was going to happen. Like this wasn’t an accident.”

And the change you saw in him was so miniscule that if you hadn’t been spending enough time studying his face, you might not have noticed it. But you had, and the slight dilation of his pupils and twitch of his jaw was enough to betray his panic. 

Then his mouth split into a smile and his face smoothed over, his eyebrows furrowed with just the right amount of concern. The shift was startling, like he’d slipped on a mask. “Of course this was an accident. Do you really think that I’d choose to be stuck here for eternity?”

“That’s—” You paused, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

“I wouldn’t,” he pressed, and this time his arm came up to drape over the back of the couch. You tried your best not to think about how you could feel warmth radiating from it, how if you tilted your head back, you might brush against it. “Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll send you back,” he said, a polite smile set on his lips. “You should really get some rest.”

And for the first time since you’d first discovered the journal, you fell asleep feeling a little bit afraid of Tom Riddle.

[mybutcheredtongue]

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

harry potter timeline Sirius Black x fem!reader

You lived out your years at Hogwarts with the company of your best friends, Lily Evans and Alice Fortescue. You fell in love with one of the infamous Marauders, Sirius Black. After school, you married and became Mrs Black, living in a home full of love and life with your faithful husband. Your happy life is cut short when Sirius is wrongfully convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and several muggles, and sent straight to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry thinks you must be connected, but after several days of investigation and questioning, litres of veritaserum thrown down your throat, you're proven innocent. You have maintained his innocence ever since, knowing Sirius would never do something like that. The only person who'll hire you is Albus Dumbledore, and with his help your name is reverted to its maiden and your past is buried deep.

This story follows your life during your time as a professor at Hogwarts when Harry Potter joins the school and everything changes.

FULL of angst but has a happy ending.

No use of Y/N

This fic is mostly a collection of moments and scenes! So a lot of time skips.

p.s. title is from the song "I Love You" by Fontaines D.C. — one of my favourite bands!! would so so recommend checking them out :)

CHAPTER ONE (see full series list here)

1991

You glance at your watch, the hand ticking slowly as it moves to show 9:03 p.m.

Finally, the large wooden door opens and a scrawny young boy pushes forward, huffing tiredly, and less than 20 odd first-year students filter into the astronomy tower.

"Evening, everyone!" You say cheerfully. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stand awkwardly as they gaze around the room in wonderment.

You feel proud of it. The last astronomy professor had left this room a little...boring, so when you came into employment you spruced it up a little bit. Though there aren't many to write on, each wall is plastered in hand-painted constellations with their names in 5 languages written underneath. You had cast a spell on the floor to conjure up a moon, one that matched the real one's lunar phases. Today, a waxing gibbous.

Telescopes line the edges of the circular room, each pointing high into the sky. You eye your favourite for a moment, the same telescope you'd used during your own years as a student at Hogwarts.

It feels like home in this room.

"Welcome to the Astronomy Tower," you say with a smile. "Here, you'll learn all about the wonders of our universe and its planets, galaxies, stars...everything. Please, find a telescope and stand behind it. We'll start with charting some simple constellations today."

The students obediently line behind a telescope each. Your eyes immediately focus on a young boy, with jet black hair and circular glasses. You lose your train of thought for a moment, feeling as though you're looking at a ghost.

He's the very image of James Potter.

Then, he turns to look at you and his eyes strike you. Green and vibrant, full of youth and gentleness.

Lily.

You feel your breath catch in your throat, but quickly shake your head of the grief and clap you hands, smiling at the students again.

"Astronomy is one of the very few subjects that is present in both the wizarding and the muggle world. That means that there are millions of resources out there for all of you to use, whether it be from a wizarding standpoint or a muggle one! Interesting stuff," you continue. "Now, I want you all to do a small task for me. Look through your telescope — please don't change any lenses just yet — and try and see if you can spot a constellation. Then, using the first page of your book, see if you can figure out which constellation it is. Call me over when you think you have one!"

The students immediately start rooting through their bags for their Astronomy textbooks and you sigh gently, content with your introduction. First-years are always well interested and curious about everything, so Astronomy is a pretty easy subject for them to get into. After all, lots of the first year curriculum is just looking at pretty stars and constellations.

"Professor, I think I have one!" A young Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair and an excited face says to you, throwing her hand in the air enthusiastically.

You smile, walking over to her. "What's your name, dear?"

"Hermione Granger, professor."

"And what constellation do you think you've found?"

"Aquila, professor," she beams, pointing a finger to the small, 'T' shaped constellation in her book.

You close one eye and look through her telescope, noticing it immediately.

You grin at her. "Well spotted, Miss Granger! Excellent work." You glance at her scarlet and gold tie. "5 points to Gryffindor for being the first one!"

Her face lights up proudly.

"Now, let's see if you can find any of the stars present in it. Any at all, though you may find it difficult to differentiate — "

"The star of Altair, professor!"

Your eyes widen and you chuckle in surprise. "Well, aren't you just making my job a whole lot easier for me? Well done, Miss Granger. Please chart that constellation down on some parchment and continue looking."

In the next few minutes, many students find constellations and are charting them down. One boy seems to be having a particularly difficult time.

"Neville Longbottom, isn't it?" You say as you wander up to him. He jumps at the sound of your voice, knocking his forehead against the edge of his telescope and letting out a small yelp of pain. "Oh, sorry..." You wave your wand gently and his eyebrows raise, bringing a hand to his forehead in surprise.

"Just a small healing spell. For minor, minor injuries," you tell him. "How is your charting going?"

The boy's cheeks go red and his eyes focus on the floor beneath him. "I...haven't been able to find one, professor. I — I thought I had one ages ago, but there were too many stars in it..."

"Let me have a look, Mr Longbottom," you say kindly, bringing your eye up to the lens and grinning. "Well, you most definitely have found one. One I didn't think anyone would find!"

You glance at Neville's face, and he's the picture of shock.

"Pisces, Mr Longbottom. Trust your judgement! Excellent work."

Neville grins, and you step aside, but not before he says something else.

"Uh, professor..."

"Yes?"

"How do...how do you know my name?"

You study his face and smile again. The very picture of Frank Longbottom. With Alice Fortescue's mousy hair.

"I went to school with your parents, Mr Longbottom. You're the spitting image of your father."

Next, the young boy with jet black hair and glasses calls you over. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"What one have you found, Mr Potter?"

As he looks at you, green eyes connecting with your own, you try your hardest not to see Lily staring back at you. You try your hardest not to picture your best friend, your honourary sister, a woman of true light in a world full of darkness.

Your heart has felt lonely since her absence. Since James. Since Alice. Since Frank. Since Peter.

You blink.

"Uh, Canis Major, I think?"

You swallow hard. Of course.

"Let me have a look see..." He's right of course, you don't even need to look. You can spot that constellation any night without a telescope. You know it like the back of your hand. "You're dead right, Mr Potter. Brilliant constellation, that is. Canis Major means 'the Great Dog', and it actually contains the brightest star in the night sky visible to our naked eye, Si — "

"Oh, wait, hold on..." Harry says, flicking through his book to find the page on Canis Major. He pauses, eyes skimming down the page. "Uh, Sirius, right?"

You bite your lip, feeling your heart speed up. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yes, Mr Potter. Sirius."

Your favourite star.

Your favourite person.

Your heart has been broken since his absence.

"Good work." You promptly spin on your heel, heading for your desk as you glance down at your watch. "Alright, everyone. Excellent work today! Now, I won't set anyone any written homework...but if you're truly interested and find you have a little free time, try and see if you can chart any other constellations! Night, everyone."

The students chat animatedly amongst themselves and exit down the spiral stairs, leaving you alone in the room. You sit down at your desk, sighing as you slip a key from your pocket and open one of the drawers. You pull out a small photograph, eyes wandering over the young, elated faces of James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, and yourself.

Graduation day.

One the left, you're standing in the middle of Alice and Lily, arms around them and laughing wholeheartedly. James stands beside Lily, arms around her and Sirius beside him, who's connected with Remus, Peter, and Frank.

You smile weakly. You remember that day, all full of hope and joy. There was some sadness too, sadness to be leaving Hogwarts and ultimately leaving childhood.

Your fingers gently skim over Sirius' face, feeling your heart ache.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that day.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Dear Moony,

I hope you're well! School's started back up again. Been a bit crazy lately, sorry that I haven't written since your last letter. Someone let a troll into the dungeon. Quirrell went mad, fainted in the middle of dinner and set all the students into a panic. It was torture.

Harry's started here. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He's the image of James. It's uncanny. He has Lily's eyes, too. Sometimes I start to feel like I can talk to them through him, even though I know that's mad of me. Neville Longbottom's here too. He's just like his parents. Both in Gryffindor, you'll be happy to know.

Dumbledore's gave me strict instructions not to say a word to Harry about it all. Says it'll be too much for him. He won't be able to understand why I couldn't have raised him instead of the Dursleys. He says that Harry will only start digging around for more information on me if he finds out I'm his godmother. He'd ask about his godfather then. It's too much for a young boy to know that his godfather is in Azkaban.

I wanted to talk to him so bad, Remus. I want to tell him about his parents, show him the photos. I want him to be able to feel at home here, feel like he's got someone here. A part of his family. I know exactly what those Dursleys are like. Petunia always hated James, you know that well enough. I hate that I have to keep this secret for even longer.

I talked to young Neville though. Merlin, he has Alice's clumsiness, that's for sure. Such a sweet lad. He was more than happy to see photos of the two and hear stories about them. I feel like a little bit of the weight that's been hanging over me has been lifted. I even showed him that photo of Alice falling into the Black Lake in 5th Year. If she was of sound mind she'd surely throttle me for that.

I think I need to get out of the castle for a bit. Wanna get a coffee? It's been a while.

I've omitted a few details of the past few weeks so I have something interesting to tell you about next weekend, if you're up for it.

all my love,

You sign the letter, folding up the parchment gently and dropping it in an envelope. You grab your bland wax stamper and press a small circle of black wax over the envelope's seal. You slip it into your pocket and stand up from your bed. Beside you, your black cat, Dubh*, stirs from her sleep and meowls at you.

You give her a loving scratch behind the ears. "Just popping down to the owlery. I'll be back."

On your way down to the owlery, you pass two lanky, identical students with heads full of ginger hair. They haven't noticed you yet. They're peering around the corner at Filch, a suspicious-looking bag in one of their hands.

"Bit late for the two of you to be out, isn't it?" You whisper behind them. They wheel around immediately and their eyes widen in shock.

"Professor! We — uh, we weren't doing anything!" George blurts out.

"Don't you look just lovely tonight, Professor? There is such a...healthy glow about you," Fred remarks suavely and you raise an unamused eyebrow at him.

"I sincerely hope you don't think I'm that thick, Mr Weasley."

"Never, Professor!"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Off to bed, both of you. Quickly, before Filch can catch you. I advise you to keep your pranks within the time you're actually allowed out of bed."

Fred's shoulders slump in disappointment, his want for a good prank evident on his face. George however, is staring at you in surprise.

"No detention?"

Fred immediately smacks his hand over the back of George's head, scowling at him. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"Get going, you two."

They take it this time, quickly scampering down the hallway. You step out from it, into the same one as Filch, who's eyeing you suspiciously.

"Is someone there?"

"Only me, Mr Filch," you answer.

"I thought I heard voices."

"Just me. I was trying to remember a poem I heard recently, it's three pages long. Would you like to hear it?"

Filch's face contorts immediately. "No."

You shrug. "Suit yourself."

You walk past him and out into the cold night air, trying to suppress the smile on your face.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter two here!

*Dubh: pronounced 'duv'. Irish word for 'black'.

→ all types of interaction appreciated ♡

[auxcordlawd]

Part 7: Wandering Thoughts of a Ravenclaw

Summary

Word Count:approx 1500

Minors DNI

Warnings: professor/student (all parties 18+) swearing, sexual content

A completely useless 7th year was standing in front of you, covered in soot from their unsuccessful Felix Felicis. Mentoring was harder than you’d expected. Just a few weeks ago this addition into your already full schedule would be nothing, but your mind was ever consumed by a certain man in black. (And not Johnny Cash). Thankfully the potions professor did not hold this students failure on you. In fact, you had aided several students into raising their grades significantly. You knew you were cut out for this position. The potions professor stated they would write you a letter of recommendation given that 75% of the students would pass their finals. You were excited yet terribly distracted. This great news was walloped by your growing desire.

In the great hall students were bustling all round, enjoying the hearty meals that were always present, yep you barely touched the food. Butterflies in your stomach made it a terribly difficult task. When you noticed others finishing up you ran to the nearest bathroom to ready yourself for your meeting. You yanked the cloak you had been holding hostage out of your bag and draped it over you. Staring in the mirror for a second you decided on pulling your panties off, shoving them in your bag, and after swipe of lip gloss and you were off.

You stood in front of Professor Snapes office, tightly gripping your messenger bag slung over your shoulder, a few books held tightly at your chest. You reached up to knock, but felt a hand on your shoulder, his other hand opening the door from around you. His hand alone gave you goosebumps, but the proximity of his chest against your back made your breath hitch. “Professor.” You said breathlessly turning around to him. “Are you going to enter my office or shall we stand here all night?” He said cocking his head at you. His eyes trailed down to your body when he realized you were in his cloak. He grasped at the collar, rubbing at admiringly. “This suits you miss (y/l/n). Shall we?” he said extending his hand to motion you inside.

You walked in and sat in front of his desk, removing his cloak, revealing your plaid skirt and white button up, no bra of course. “You really like to test me miss (y/l/n).” He said leaning on the front of his desk crossing his arms. You looked up at him with doe eyes. “Stand.” He ordered. You stood, slightly to his left, less than a foot away from him. He turned towards you and touched your cheek, turning your face up to his, he looked at you as if he were examining you. His hand trailed down your neck, to your collar bone. You didn’t dare to breath. He looked at you questioningly, as if confirming he can continue. You blinked at him, as if begging him to. He ever so gently trailed his hand around the side of your breast gripping your ribs right under your boob, pulling you in tighter. You let out a moan as his hand trailed down to your waist, grabbing you with both hands.

He quickly lifted you onto his desk, standing in between your legs. “So beautiful, so pure.” His hands were tracing on your thigh. “But it seems you’ve come a bit undone for me.” He said in his natural slow way. “Are you certain you want to travel down this road?” “Yes.” You said too quickly. “Hmm.” Snape continued his journey up your thigh, the sensation of his large hand on your bare thigh drove you crazy. You squeezed your thighs together needing friction, your wetness spreading on your legs, as you didn’t wear underwear tonight. He smirked as he watched you squirm under his touch as he leaned so close to your face your lips were barely touching. “If you go too far miss (y/l/n) you wont find your way back.” Severus said in a deep whisper on your lips. You desperately pushed your lips to his, one hand remaining on your thigh, the other gripping your waist. The kiss deepened as you moaned into his mouth, his hand so close to your bare cunt. You bucked your hips needing his touch, and he obliged. “My, my. All ready for me. Showing up in my office without panties.” He spoke through kisses.

His hands trailed to your middle dragging your wetness up your slit to your clit, pressing down enough to make you whimper and push into him. “So wet.. you desperate thing.” His movements continued, unrelenting, rubbing his fingers in a perfect patter on your mound. “Fuck. Severus. I-I’ve wanted this s-so long.” “Is that so?” He pushed two of his long, masculine fingers into your opening, keeping his thumb on your clit. You couldn't seem to answer, so with his free hand he grabbed your face and made you look up at him. “Answer me.” He said with his usual drawl. “Yes!” You screamed grinding into him further. “Severus, I-I’m.” “Use your words” “-so c-close.” “So soon Miss (y/l/n)?” He pulled his fingers away in a quick motion emitting a desperate cry. “I think not.”

He then lifted your skirt higher on your waist before dropping to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the desk, gracefully wrapping your legs around his shoulders. Without a second more he was kissing your inner thighs, getting closer to where you needed him most. You felt his tongue lick you from your opening slowly up to your clit. “Fuckkkk, Severus.” You moaned loudly reaching to grab his hair. “Not so loud Miss (y/l/n), I didn’t cast a silencing spell.” The thought of that turned you on even more, as depraved as it was.

He moaned into you, causing a reverberating pleasure. He lapped at your middle as your breathing sped up. He plunged a finger in your opening causing you to whine with pleasure. “So tight. So wet. All for me.” “Yes, yes.” “Is this cunt all mine Miss (y/l/n)?” You couldn't get a word out, just needy moans. “Use your words.” Severus demanded pulling his lips from you. “Yes, yes. You’re all I think about. My pussy is yours.” You said desperately. “Good girl.” He said sinking another finger, back to licking your clit. “Cum for me (y/n).” The use of your name pushed you into building waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers as he pumped faster, licking harder, while sucking your clit as well now. You felt the largest wave crash through you, orgasm hitting you harder than mere fantasies could ever bring. “Fuck Severus!” You screamed while grabbing his hair as he devoured you, only stopping when he felt your last shudder.

He stood up in front of you, “Open.” He said quietly. Your jaw dropped as if he had a remote control, and he pushed his fingers into your mouth. You began sucking them, cleaning yourself off of him. “See how delicious you taste.” Your tongue twirled around his fingers, you began making work of it. Sucking them up and down. He looked down at you amusedly, as he attempted to adjust his aching cock in his pants inconspicuously. “I can help with that, you know.” You spoke with his fingers in your mouth, as you moved your leg to rub into him. “Keep teasing and you’ll have no choice.” Removing his fingers from your mouth he stepped back, brushing his hair out of his face after you had mussed it.

“Tomorrow Miss (y/l/n) I will be occupied with meetings but Friday we must get some work done.” He said leaning back on his desk crossing his arms over his robe, smirking at you. He looked sexier than ever, especially knowing how hard he was. Desperate to taste him you hopped off his desk and started to drop to your knees. He caught you be your upper arm, “that can wait,” he paused and sighed “I’m not sure I could quit once I cross that line.” “But I don’t want you to-“ “You have grading to do for potions, if I’m not mistaken miss (y/l/n).” You huffed, trying to pout your way into his pants. Surprisingly he grabbed your face, rough but still tender, and passionately kissed you, leaving you panting. He wrapped you in his robe once more, and handed you your bag. “Friday (y/n).”

Speechless you turned and headed straight for your dorm. That had to be a dream. As you shut your door you did your best to finish the grading. You slid the papers out of your bag. Somehow you managed to get through them all, hoping against hope they were graded well enough. Your mind was expectedly elsewhere.

After brushing your teeth and showering you were ready for bed. You went to pack your bag for the next day. Thats when you noticed one thing was missing from the bag, your panties.

@yurfavmommy @simp-manhwa

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

After being in complete denial about the movie for the past 2 days I want to know if you happen to have nah recommendation or some good fanfics that is either based on Harry Potter or in the Harry Potter universe I’d appreciate so much. I think I’ve been scarred by this movie completely 😬

Yes. I am always happy to share uncredited works of she-who-must-not-be-named.

Amortentia by raspberrylimonade

(1/1 I 1,113 I General I Stydia)

Potions was always terrible in the week leading up to the full moon. Scott’s already heightened sense of smell was especially sensitive during this time. All the scents and fumes, on top of the typically gunky smell of the poorly ventilated dungeons, drove his nose crazy.

Today they were brewing amortentia. It was a rather difficult potion. Half the class was over-excited and making mistakes, which meant weird smells hitting his nose from all directions.

And then there was Stiles and Lydia’s potions.

shirley temple, on the rocks by orphan_account

(1/1 I 3,006 I Teen I Sterek)

“Are you sure you’re a Gryffindor?” Derek says.

“The hat did try to put me in Slytherin,” Stiles shrugs. “But I asked for Gryffindor, so," and he drains his drink, crunching on the bits of syrupy ice at the bottom.

kickstarts again by 1001cranes

(1/1 I 3,544 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek has known Stiles was his mate since Fourth Year; Stiles keeps getting lost on the way to the Common Room - these two things may very well be related.

That Witch! by sapphireginger

(1/1 I 3,580 I Teen I Hermione/Stiles)

“Are any of your books damaged?” he asked, prepared to pay to fix them if needed.

The girl quirked a brow. “Would it matter if they were?”

Stiles nodded seriously. “Absolutely. Books are knowledge. The destruction of knowledge is blasphemous in my book. Anyone who says otherwise is a bloody fool and—”

“I’m sorry,” she said between giggles. “You’re American. I wasn’t expecting you to say ‘bloody’.”

Mischief Unleashed by Artemis_Charmed for one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (Sara36913)

(1/1 I 6,241 I Teen I Sterek)

The thing was, magic was real. And the entire school was magical. Literally. The stairs moved; statues winked. There was a room that seemed to be around when you required it. So nothing should surprise him. Except. There was a large black wolf lying in a corner, under the half moon light shining through the window.

"The Enigma: Shadows of Magic" by uronthinicepal

(2/63 I 6,512 I Mature I Sterek)

When Stiles Stilinski finds himself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he's placed in Ravenclaw. In a world where werewolves and wizards exist in the same universe. Instead of Scott navigating his own way, he is sent to Ilvermony, the school for magic in America, to assimilate into werewolf life. Stiles is magic, he is a spark. He is sent to Hogwarts to learn and for his own safety. Join Stiles on his enigmatic journey into the world of magic, where the unexpected can become the greatest hero. Oh, and Derek's here too.

Hufflepuffs Are Awesome by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

(1/1 I 10,524 I Teen I Sterek)

"My fierce firecracker,” Stiles gasps out, between laughs, “my precious little shortfuse.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek says, his voice muffled as he hides his face in his hands.

“Captain Aggro, defending my honour,” Stiles chokes out, heaving himself upright. “My champion of love.”

“If you don’t shut up,” Derek warns him, “this bed is going to be your only companion for the next month.”

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are in Hogwarts, and there are shenanigans.

Dead Faint by MaddieStilinski

(1/1 I 29,872 I Not Rated I Sterek)

A few things happened in very quick succession once the potion had left Stiles’ hand. Derek brought it up to his eyes to look at it, shook it a little and uncorked it.

It took Stiles a couple of delayed moments to notice two very important things. The first, being the iridescent colours that danced across the top when Derek shook the potion. The second, that the room had started to spin around him. From very far away, Stiles registered the calming potion in Derek’s hand, transparent where it should have been blue. Derek brought the potion to his lips.

‘Wait-‘ Stiles started. Then, the room still spinning, he collapsed in a dead faint.

Moonwalkers by twinklingpaopufruit

(68/68 I 531,781 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles had his entire Seven Years of Hogwarts all planned out:

Prank and Prank Hard. Woo Lydia Martin. Avoid detention and Potions at all cost. Have crazy fun.

Enter brooding werewolf to send this plan to the bottom of the Black Lake.

[agentlilicarter]

Saw your dark/evil Hufflepuff moodboard so here are some headcanons!!

A muggleborn is sorted into Hufflepuff. McGonagall smiles, a student that will surely be peaceful to have

There are no hushed whispers. Her house applauds,but no one really sees her.

She makes friends fast. A Hufflepuff boy who's parents thought he'd be a slytherin, and a ravenclaw who invents things the magical community has never seen.

The Resricted Section intrigues them. They find old books on the second wizarding war, and she realises how horrible life would have been if she had arrived just ten years earlier.

In the dark corner of the library, she and her two friends make a vow. They will never be helpless, no matter who tries to make them that way.

The ravenclaw invents a trace blocker, so each of them can practice magic at home

She tells her parents all about her time at school. They worry, until she shows them what she can do.

The ravenclaw creates potions like Severus Snape did, and the two hufflepuffs steal textbooks from older students to learn the hexes the previous hogwarts students were to scared to use. They weren't studying anyway.

When McGonagall expects another quiet year of Hufflepuffs, she find them to be loud. Loyal and caring, but louder. They protect their own so fiercely that they get compared to lions.

Not lions, they say. Hufflepuffs.

From your slytherin friend x

Okay, these headcanons are amazing Sage!

After this I think a lot of Hufflepuffs would began to rebel. The Hufflepuff Revolution would begin.

Some of my own headcanons to the house under the cut

Imagine if Hufflepuff would have a relationship system similar to a secret society that works in the background. Nobody would suspect that they control the society behind the curtains because they aren't screaming it in the face of every person.

If you're sorted in Hufflepuff you'll always be a Hufflepuff. After graduating you will still be a part of this complex net of relationship of Hufflepuffs. (Sort of like a mafia family maybe?)

Which has its own perks: like it's easier to find a job at a shop because you helped one of the workers learning for the O.W.L-s when you two were housemates. He will recommend you to the boss. Like I said: once a Hufflepuff, always a Hufflepuff.

Tribalism. If you try to hurt one of us expect that a lot of Hufflepuffs will make your life hell. This tribalism was seen in GoF too; the Hufflepuff students were bullying him because he stole the fame from the house. Harry felt that even Professor Sprout acted colder to him.

Hufflepuffs could move the threads so carefully behind the curtains that most people don't expect when they attack (like the three students, they were also working behind everyone else)

Though a lot of them can be just as loud as someone would expect from a stereotypical Gryffindor. They're vicious, would protect their loved ones when they sense danger. They would fiercely battle for justice. They're the Hufflepunks.

Just because someone gets sorted in Hufflepuff, doesn't mean that they are less ambitous, witty brave. It just means that they value loyality, hard work or being just more than anything else. Like the Hufflepuff boy you wrote, his parents expected him being Slytherin. (This is pretty obvious I know 😂)

I'm sorry I didn't answer this sooner Sage, I wanted to add just as good headcanons as yours (and I think I failed lol your wording is just 👌)

[springdaybreaks]

score a date | l. jn.

how the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team managed to score a date with a certain ravenclaw.

tags: hogwarts!au; hufflepuff!jeno x ravenclaw!reader; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint

note: another self indulgent piece that has been burried for months in my drafts😀 this one's a short one but the amount of plot holes makes me want to bang my head against a brick wall lol. no warnings besides inconsistent grammar and tenses.

so, lee jeno

everyone took one look at him and thought he'd be sorted into gryffindor

they may or may not saw him telling haechan to stop annoying renjun and smacking haechan for annoying him, so-

but the sorting hat sorted him into hufflepuff

his parents said it make sense that he's been sorted into the house

he's a hardworker and is loyal to the ones he's close with

he doesn't really seem to be ambitious, but he actually is!

he just doesn't chase after it like slytherin!haechan

the professors adore him

he's always offering them his help

not to gain their favor or save face but purely because he's just that kind

"professor sprout, let me carry that bag of soil for you"

“professor flitwick, do you need some help distributing the feathers?”

snape has kind of a soft spot for him since jeno came early most days for his potions class just to help set the cauldrons

when he doesn't have quidditch practice or urgent tasks he'd even stay behind to clean them sometimes

but of course snape would rather die than admit it

his friends told him to join the tryouts for the quidditch team on their second year as a joke

jeno: okay (.◜◡◝)

but he really got in

becomes hufflepuff team's beater along with the third year lucas

got chosen as the team captain in his fourth year by the hufflepuff head boy, taeyong, before he graduated

he's just THAT good

we all know he loves animals

so it’s natural that he takes care of magical creatures as his elective

and excels at it

even though everyone says hagrid kind of sucks at teaching

he’s sad that he couldn’t see the thestrals though

also it's not all weird that jeno wants to become an animagus

that's why he works extra hard in transfiguration

and mcgonagall loves him so🥴

people thought jeno is all brawns and no brain

but his grades are almost all outstanding

with some exceeded expectation and a couple of acceptable

he's quite smart actually

is dubbed as the 2nd cedric diggory because he’s handsome, athletic, and smart

but of course being friends with the dreamies, it’s chaotic sometimes

he's been slytherin!jaemin's friend since they were kids

but somehow became quite close with ravenclaw!renjun ever since he helped him to deal with slytherin!haechan back in their first year

and he shared a train car with slytherin!haechan on their first day

haechan loves bothering jeno, but became fast friends with him because they have the same tastes in games

everyone at hogwarts know them as the dreamies

a group of girls likes them and call them dreamies because they're "dreamy"

very original

but they don't mind being called that so-

when you see one of these four, the other three wouldn't be too far behind

although they have quite different tastes and interest, they get along well

jeno has this friendly rivalry with haechan over their quidditch games

they bicker a lot, but haechan would be the first one to defend him if someone speak ill of him

no one does

doesn't take muggle studies, but would get muggle music recommendations from jaemin who took it

and sometimes you can hear him humming along the latest muggle music

hangs out with renjun if he wants to relax and just enjoy the day

renjun invites him to paint together once every few weeks

and he thinks that it's nice he's friends with renjun because he'd make them do their homework together

doesn't really go to the library except for rare study times and looking for his cat

he doesn't read the school's rule book but he's pretty sure students can't bring their pets to the library

but his cat can be quite mischievous and would disappear often

sometimes she'd be walking next to him one second and gone the next, following merlin knows what

his cat is probably still very curious of the place since he's only got her last year

and that brings us to you

you are one of the smartest ravenclaw in your grade

some even said that you're the brightest student in hogwarts after the legendary hermione and doyoung, the ex ravenclaw prefect and head boy that graduated a few years ago

of course you're smart, your muggle iq test could attest to that

but you always pair it with hard work

although people do call you snobby sometimes just because you wouldn’t do their homework for them

it pisses you off sometimes because you declined because you sincerely want them to learn!!! and be able to use the knowledge in the future!!!

you don’t mind though

bc being smart has its perks, like how people won’t bother you being a half-blood

and somehow the professors doesn’t mind that you don’t use a quill to write

except for snape

you’re used to the muggle world so pens and pencils are more convenient

but just for compromise, you use a fountain pen your father got you instead

anw

you were trying to get your homework done before supper, opting to do them in the quietness of the library rather than the currently crowded ravenclaw common room

jaemin somehow got into the ravenclaw common room and is currently on a raging whining spree bc the house elfs in the kitchen won’t give him coffee with 8 shots of espresso in it

you can hear it across the common room

at least the library is always quiet

so there you are quietly working through your homework in your favorite corner in the library; where it was quite hidden from madam pince and always got just the right amount of sunlight whenever the weather's nice

you’ve been at it for quite some time so you’re stretching your body

and then you feel a furry thing rubbing against your legs

you don't know whose cat she is

but she often follows you in the halls when she manage to escape from the dorms

and somehow slips through the unpleasant madam pince

but she appears quite often these days

at first she'd be sniffing you

and then she started curling up near your chair

when she found you again after not seeing you for a few days, she begins rubbing herself against your legs, asking for rubs

and proceeds to make herself at home on your lap

you just let her be

and continue doing your homework while occasionally caressing her fur

it's been a few weeks of this happening but you still haven't found out who her owner is

but one day you were just doing your homework as usual with the cat curling on your lap

and you hear a rather loud sigh nearby

"bongshik, there you are!"

you look up and

there stood lee jeno

of course you know who he is, but it's not like you know him

you know that he's doyoung's favorite junior ever

and currently said to be one of the best quidditch players in hogwarts

and he and his group of friends got enthusiastic following

but being in the same house as his friend and mutual friends, you feel like you know him already

you hear things about him quite often bc you're friends with jaemin and renjun

and jaemin sometimes boasts that he has couple items with jeno

not to mention they almost go everywhere together

like twins

some of the professors even got their names mixed up sometimes

but now jeno's alone and is staring at his cat curled up in your lap

"oh, is this your cat?"

"yes," he sigh, "i've been looking for her everywhere"

you handed the cat over as he come close

"sorry if she's been bothering you"

you stroke her head and she purrs in content

"it's alright, she's just been keeping me company. she's a sweetheart"

well that's a surprise

because bongshik isn't really a super friendly cat

it even took like a week for her to get comfortable with jaemin, who's been friends with jeno since they were kids

"she must really like you then."

after that, whenever he realize bongshik's gone missing, all he had to do was find you

because wherever you are, bongshik's probably trailing after you

even when you're not in the library

one time jeno was just about to eat supper when he spot his cat walking in the great hall

but instead of walking to him, her owner, bongshik walked to you

when exam season's coming up, you find yourself holed up in the library almost every day

and jeno, who's always looking for his cat, found bongshik curled up next to you every. single. day.

and somehow, he got lazy of worrying and finding his cat

besides, it's getting closer to exam season

so he starts doing his homework with you in the library

he does it almost every day that he got questioned by his friends

when his friends learned that he's been holed up in the library, they weren't exactly surprised

because jeno's probably the smartest out of them

but they know there's something else going on

bc even though jeno's really smart and he likes to read books on his own,

he's not the type to stay in the library for long periods of time nor every single day

like he's been doing for the past week

so haechan-

being the mischievous little shit he is

persuaded renjun and jaemin to spy on jeno one day

even though jaemin refused and told him to let him be

and well oh well

they found out he's been hanging out with you

jeno thought you'd be teased endlessly by haechan and instinctively lied

"oh they're just helping me with some tricky spell for charms! anyway, thanks, y/n!"

you two weren't that close but it kind of hurt that he doesn't want his friends to know that you two were friends

if that's what the two of you are

anyway

somehow jeno's lies of you helping him with homework got around school

and now you have a few people asking you for help for theirs

you told them you'd gladly help them as long as they don't make you do them

so now even some underclassmen come to you for help

quite a lot that you had to make a time-dedicated study groups

"well it'd be nice to get paid for teaching you guys, a sickle for each session wouldn't hurt"

you really said it as a joke

but some underclassmen really paid you for your help and it spurs the others to do the same

but even as you decline to take their money, they somehow managed to slip it into your bag or intentionally left it behind near your work station

your favorite underclassman gryffindor!jisung even snuck in a few candies to the library for you

ever since you managed to turn tour tutoring sessions into a small 'business', of course you see jeno less and less

but you two still greet each other in the halls

and library, whether when he's looking for bongshik or just doing his homework

one day you were running late to your session

jeno was seated not far from where you usually do it

and heard some of the girls in it talking about you

"merlin, if i'm not failing in charms and defense against dark arts, i wouldn't have to ask y/n for their help."

"yes well, i had to act like i like them just to get into the tutoring session too. what a inconvenience."

"they even charge us for this! other people doesn't even charge and just help us with it"

"yes, she's such a bitch too. you know she refused to help at the start? and now she only do it because of the money"

it's not really his business

but he feels annoyed and kind of riled up to hear them talking bad about you

and he really heard from jisung how you always declined their money and how you were just joking about the fee

but people just paid you nonetheless and eventually you were too tired to decline because they kept insisting

jeno's annoyed and packed his things

he'd rather do the rest of his homework in his dorm than here with their chatter

but when he passed the shelves behind the tables, he saw you

standing there clutching your books

merlin, you must've heard them

but you just sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile

even greeting him before coming over to the designated tutoring spot and apologizing for running late

somehow the sight of it makes his blood boil even more

and admiration, really, because of how kind you are

the next time you saw jeno again was before his match when the crowded halls made you two bump into each other

"oh, i'm sorry!"

"sorry!"

"oh- it's you."

"i- yeah. hey. how are you?"

jeno mentally smack himself for sounding stupid. as if he doesn't know you, as if he didn't spend time with you for weeks in the library. as if the thoughts of you don't plague his mind

somehow he developed a crush on you

and now he's gonna make himself look stupid

you shrug, "eh. so so. kind of busy because of the tutoring though."

you eye his quidditch uniform and the broom clutched in his hand.

"match day?"

"yeah." he hesitated before asking you, "you coming to watch?"

you tilt your head in confusion, "me?"

oh hell, he is in so deep for you. how could you look cute looking confused like that.

jeno feels his ears warming

"well, i am talking to you, aren't i?"

you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

"huh."

now it's his turn to be confused, "what?"

you just shake your head and laugh

"didn't know you could sound like a jock, lee."

"come on lee!"

his teammates are waiting for you at the end of the corridor. lucas are wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you with a teasing smile. haechan, who have somehow blend in with his team, shoots him a teasing look

as if to say 'mhm, i knew you liked her'

jeno ignored them and turns to you instead

"so will you come?"

"mmmm, i dont know. what if you suck?"

you teased

well- you know you are kind of flirting rn but ssssttttt

jeno's eye light up in amusement

and challenge

"you gonna give me anything if i win?"

you shrug nonchalantly, well- tried to, "i think you already have everything you want, captain. don't think i can give you anything else satisfactory."

a smile tugd the corner of his lip

"what about a date then?"

your eyes snapd to his in surprise.

"i- you... date? what?"

"yeah. a date. with me. next hogsmeade trip?"

you gape at him stupidly, "you want to go on a date with me?

he laughs, "well, i wouldn't be asking you right now if i wasn't."

"hurry up lee!"

his teammates roars. although some did snicker when haechan made kissy face at the two of you

"so, what do you say?" he keeps his eyes on you

"you want me to say yes?"

"badly."

a shy smile tugs your lips

hell jeno would take haechan's relentless teasing any day if it meant you'd give him that smile again

you steel yourself and look at him in the eyes

"then i guess you better win, captain."

© 2023 springdaybreaks.

[redeemingvillains]

you know i'm not a bad girl...

✶⋆.˚ vee – she/her, late twenties daydreamer, ravenclaw, bad boy apologist, fanfic writer. lover of books, music with a good beat and autumn. mentally in the slytherin common room on mattheo's lap.

╰┈➤ masterlist ╰┈➤ fic recommendations

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

OoTP, Chapter 1 - A Hesitant Offer

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Word Count: 1948

Note: Welcome to the first chapter of my Draco x Reader series! Starts in Order of the Phoenix at the beginning of school term.

Ever since arriving at Hogwarts in your first year, you've had to come to terms with your nigh nonexistent sense of direction. That, coupled with the changing staircases, and Peeves' unfortunate habit of blocking several corridors with a single tantrum, meant that most days you had to leave the Hufflepuff common room at least twenty minutes before anyone else did.

This morning was no different. As you shouldererd your bag and climbed out of the round door, beginning your journey to Herbology 5, your friends waved at you from their cozy seats by the fire. They all had this period free, and had offered to walk you to the greenhouse several times, but in all truth you didn't mind wandering the castle halls before other students were about to disturb them. You liked meeting new paintings and ghosts, some more forthcoming than others, and some willing to give you directions. Early last year, the Fat Friar had personally shown you to your first Divination lesson.

September was quite nippy in the Scottish Highlands, but the castle was kept warm by strategically placed fire places, and the greenhouses varied on the climates of the plants within. The walk between the castle and the greenhouses, however, was a wind tunnel to be feared all year round.

In a stroke of good luck, you found your way on the first try, and the vegetable patches were in sight long before any other students. The sunlight was pleasant in that early morning way, and the wind was as brutal as ever. You pulled your robes tighter around yourself. As you passed, you peered across the way to note how the courgettes were doing - there were several that looked ready to harvest. The image of steaming courgette and tomato gratin filled your mind, and you smiled wistfully. Then, your stomach rumbled and you could only think of regretting skipping breakfast.

Voices in a tense discussion bled out from greenhouse 5, and you grimaced. It sounded like Professor Sprout was talking to a fifth year about their O.W.L.s.

"I am sorry," Professor Sprout said, though her tone suggested she was not sorry at all, "that you are displeased with your marks. However, I stand by them, and will not be grading anything on a 'curve' this year."

The frustrated student replied, "I didn't know you could get a T! What does that even mean?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, a T stands for 'Troll.' It means a troll could've written your essay." You tried to stifle a snort of laughter. Which essay was she talking about? Surely not the essay on self-fertalizing shrubs - that one had taken you two reference books and a single hour to complete. Granted, you'd only received an E, but your parchment was a quarter inch too short.

You stopped by the greenhouse door, wondering if you should interrupt their discussion, or if somehow listening in was better.

"That's insulting!" Malfoy said, "They're bushes that consume their own shit - what more is their to say?"

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. I expect more from my O.W.L. students." There was some silence. You took this opportunity to enter the room. Professor Sprout smiled at you; you smiled back awkwardly, and put your things down in an effort to avoid eye contact with Malfoy and prepare for the lesson. Professor Sprout continued, more quietly but you could still hear, "As it is still early in the term, I will accept a rewritten assignment due in one week. And I highly recommend you find yourself a tutor. As I'm sure you've guessed, I only accept students with passing marks into Advanced Herbology."

Behind you, a few other students, Ravenclaws, shuffled in also trying not to eavesdrop.

Malfoy huffed away from Professor Sprout and stomped up to some other Slytherins, arms crossed and muttering. "Tutor," he spat. They looked at him quizzically. "Just wait until my father hears about this."

Ah, now you recognized him.

Professor Sprout cleared her throat from the back of the greenhouse and the class quieted, Malfoy still glowering by the door. "Today, we'll be attempting to produce high quality smoke from the fire breathing snapdragons you've been attending to. Go on, fetch your plants. Excellent. Now, the key to a good smoke is a high soil pH, and immediate watering after a bout of fire breath. There are a number of ways to do this, so have fun and try your best. Professor Snape has requested whatever we harvest today be added to the potions' store room, so capture the smoke in these." She gestured to a collection of glass bottles with marble stoppers to her left, then shooed you all to begin your work.

From your bag, you produced the pestle and mortar your mum had sent you for Christmas first year, and set it next to your snapdragons. They were glowing softly, the red flowers pulsating with a white light. There was a canister of chunk limestone in the corner; you waited patiently while a Ravenclaw student poked through it, presumably looking for a piece the right size. Across the room, Malfoy looked lost, and so did his friends. You tried to ignore it.

You plopped a reasonable hunk of limestone into the mortar and began to grind it into as fine a powder as you could muster. Then, you sprinkled the powder around the base of the plant, working it into the the soil gently with a trowel, and took out your wand - 10 and 3/4 inches of chestnut with a unicorn hair core, quite bendy. Limestone generally raised soil pH slowly, so you'd have to help it along.

You drew a circle clockwise with your wand and whispered, "Longius ire." The snapdragons responded well, the tips of the outer petals now a stable purple.

"Aguamenti," you said, wand tapping a watering can. Nothing happened. You frowned and said again, more forcefully, "Aguamenti!" A small, pitiful stream, a few drops really, fell from your wand onto the thin metal. Sighing, you carried the empty can to the hand-cranked water pump outside. As you passed, you glanced at Malfoy's plant. The tips of his flowers had turned a sick green color.

You returned to your snapdragons with a full watering can and a glass bottle. You prodded a couple flowers with your wand, the white glow they gave off turning yellow, then orange, until finally they ignited into tiny bursts of flame. The moment the last flower died out, you doused the whole thing with water, and gathered the plum-colored smoke into the bottle by swirling it with your wand. The snapdragon shook off the excess droplets grumpily, and you put the marble stopper back in the bottle and looked around.

A fair few other students had successfully bottled the smoke, and most looked to be the right color. You labeled the bottle "Y/L/N" and stood to turn it in.

Then you smelled something horribly acrid. It was Malfoy's plant. He'd succeeded in coaxing the flowers to produce flame, but the smoke was all wrong. You coughed and covered your nose with the sleeve of your robes, as did most people around him.

"Stupid bloody plant," he muttered.

By the end of class, you'd produced another bottle of smoke, and continued to watch Malfoy struggle pitifully. The glass of the greenhouse shuddered as the bell tolled in the distance, and in unison the class stood up and began filing out of the room. You threw a look behind you. Malfoy was shooing the other Slytherins away, holding a bag of something or other.

Before you really knew what you were doing, you'd weaved through Malfoy's gruff looking friends and approached him, asking, "What's that?"

He turned and scowled at you. "Why?" But you could clearly see the label. Leaf mold.

"It just seems like you could use some help. Did you know that leaf mold makes soil more acidic?"

"That's why I'm using it, to raise the pH. Duh."

You sputtered, "N-no, acidic is low - a high pH is alkaline."

"Oh." Malfoy looked down for a moment, then knit his brows together and said, "Well it's stupid-"

"Look, you need a tutor and I'm offering. What'd'ya say?"

He looked you up and down appraisingly, and you regretted offering your help with every passing second. "Why?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Why do you want to help me? What do you want?"

"OK, I definitely don't know what you mean. We can meet Saturday? I can help you rewrite your essay that I... overheard you... and Professor Sprout talking about." He opened his mouth to speak, looking even more affronted. "Just meet me here Saturday morning after breakfast. These are all open to Hufflepuffs on weekends."

Seemingly forgetting whatever he'd wanted to say a moment ago, he said, "I thought this was a Slytherin - Ravenclaw class."

"Oh. I'm a fourth year. This was the only Herbology five that fit into my schedule. I'm sorry, I've gotta go - double Potions - we have a deal?"

Malfoy glanced around at the empty greenhouse. "I don't even know who you-"

"Y/N." You edged out the door. You really did have to run, quite literally if this conversation didn't wrap up soon. "See you Saturday!"

Thanks to another broad stroke of luck, you ran into your friends on the way to your shared Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff double potions class, and made it with minutes to spare. After the lesson, you decided to swing by Professor Sprout's office to, hopefully, get some guidance for tutoring for an O.W.L. you hadn't even thought to worry about yet.

Like Hagrid, your head of house had her own private garden, though it was a series of rooftop patches that grew a variety of rare and occasionally dangerous plants. Not a pumpkin in sight. This year, there was a newly installed aquaponics tank growing a mass of thriving, slithering and hissing venomous snake plants. You gave them a wide berth as you crossed the garden to the office door and knocked.

"Come in!" rang a warm voice from inside. Professor Sprout smiled warmly at you from her desk when you opened the door to her small office. "Hello, dear. Have a seat. What can I help you with?"

Inside, the office was overfull of house plants, none of which were practical in any sense, but they were clearly cared for with love. You dodged an enchanted watering can and sat down. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I've offered some tutoring to Draco Malfoy. And I was wondering if you had a list or something of the things the O.W.L.s should cover?"

She clapped her hands together, clearly pleased. "Excellent. I was hoping someone would take pity on him. I have some notes around here somewhere. One moment." She began rifling around in her desk drawers and continued, "Not a helpless case, that boy, I suspect he just needs a bit more attention than I can afford to pay him. It doesn't help of course that the gentle study of magical flora is often written off as a lesser one. Aha! Here it is. I expect you've seen most of these, but let me know if you need anything once you get going." She handed you a list of scribbled plant names entitled 4 OWLS. She was right - your mum grew most of these for her shop. This should be a cinch.

"Thanks, Professor."

"Of course, Miss Y/L/N. Was there anything else?"

A slow, giddy smile grew on your lips. "I wondered if you could show me the new aquaponics setup?"

She grinned. "Come with me."

[thebestofoneshots]

Weekly fic snippet!

Thanks for the tag sweetheart @starchaser-lily

Extract from Gilded Constellations Chapter 14

“All you want,” you replied with a smile “if he tries to kiss you, though, don’t blame me for it.” You both laughed, and a comfortable silence followed, then you remembered you still had books inside your bag and pulled them out, setting them on the bed beside him. He grabbed the one at the top, when you noticed which book it was, you pulled it from his hands. “You can’t read that one.”

“I can’t read… A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells?” He asked as he read the cover name from your hands.

“It’s not that,” you added holding it tightly between your arms. “It’s… not actually A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells, I charmed the cover.” He rose an eyebrow and tried to take it from your grasp, you pulled back but it was too late, he had it on his hands again. Remus had an awful lot of energy for someone who had been badly hurt just a couple of hours ago. “Remus, give me that!”

“I wanna know why you charmed the cover first,” he said while dangling the book in the air.

You looked at him with a frown and jumped forward to try and grasp the book from his hands, but he pulled it back, to the side of the bed. “Remus!”

“Am I gonna have to read it?”

You stood up, and extended your hands over him, to try and get the book that was on the other side of the bed, but your feet got trapped with your backpack strap and you ended up falling over Remus. He groaned as your body crashed over a particularly nasty bruise. Your scent filling his nostrils from the closeness, Sirius was right, you smelled awfully nice, a little like him too.

“Shit Rem, I’m sorry,” you said standing up as soon as possible “I didn’t mean to–“ the brusque movements had caused his shirt to rise up slightly and you actually saw the nasty bruise your body had crashed against, you looked at it with a concerned frown and then back at your friend “Remus…”

He adverted your gaze, he did not like being pitted “I’m fine.” He said once he turned back to you, using his free hand to pull down his shirt again “I’m strong, remember?”

“Yeah, someone falling over a bruise hurts, no matter how strong…”

He shrugged, he’d definitely had worse than you falling over him “you’re light, didn’t hurt much.” You looked at him, sighing “and you smell nice, no wonder Sirius wants to have you on his lap all the time.” Finally, you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at your friend. Remus realized you had a really nice laugh as you did, he shook hi head from the trance of staring, he wasn’t sure he’d ever found a girl as pretty as you. “Will you tell me what kind of book you were trying to hide from me, or will I have to figure it out myself?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a spicy romance novel,” you said avoiding his gaze, he smiled diverted. The more you know, he thought. “It was recommended!” You added.

“Yeah, sure.”

“It was!” You insisted “by your little Ravenclaw girlfriend, actually”

“Nina Blythe?!” he asked in desbelif.

You nodded “Are you sure you don’t want to date her? She’s clearly into the good stuff.” He gave you a look and you laughed, Nina was beautiful, but she definitely still had a baby face, like Remus had said when you told him she had a crush on him.

“She’s not really my type.”

“Which is…?”

“None of your business, of course.” He replied sassily, and then changed the subject “How spicy?” He asked, curiosity taking the best of him.

You shrugged “I’ll tell you when I get to the spicy part,” you told him with a shrug, taking the book from his hands, he let you do it without any fuzz this time “but um…” you pointed at one of the other books on the bed “this one’s good, you’d like it.”

“Is it also spicy?” He teased.

“Remus!” You complained “not every single book I read is spicy!”

He shrugged “Wouldn’t shame you if you did.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh “It’s not spicy, but it is really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said taking the book and opening on the first page. Soon enough the two of you were comfortably reading. You were so engrossed in your book you’d totally forgotten the initial reason you’d gone there. But as you continued flipping pages, it was like the string you had been trying to reach earlier was finally there, shining brightly for you to take it, and tie all the mysterious facts into one sole explanation. As your eyes moved through the words in the book, the description of the male lead started to resonate with you…

Remus was strong. Remus had a lot of scars and bruises all over his body, and they were definitely not caused by Grindyllows, he always carried around a calming draught, and had other rather strong pain killer potions on his room as well, he tended to stay away from you when you wore your silver ring, literally jumping from your grasp when you touched him with it on one time, and was also visibly mad at Sirius when he brushed over his fingers with it on, as if they both knew something you didn’t –electric shock, my ass.

…

Series Masterlist

I don't know if I should tag you guys on this one, since it's just a snippet but I'll do it, hope you enjoy this tinny lil teaser of what's to come...

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow @sbrewer21

[hopefulidiocy]

Remarkable

Professor!Snape x Student!reader

Warnings: suggestiveness, my grammar, fluff!

Word count: 1k

Overview: during the last term, you and Snape had been seeing each other and the summer saw you both spending lots of time together. But now it’s the beginning of your Seventh Year (in my world, seventh year is 18-19) and you haven’t seen Snape in weeks!

ALL CHARACTERS ARE OF AGE

⛅️I recommend listening to Air Balloon by Lily Allen⛅️

“Have you got all your books?” Mother asked for the fourth time since you arrived at Kings Cross. You sighed through your nose as she licked her thumb and swiped underneath your eye, her eyes narrowed with concentration.

“Merlin, Anna. Leave the poor girl alone. She’s got everything.” Your father commented, squeezing your shoulder. As usual, your mother’s eyes glistened with shiny tears.

“My baby girl all grown up.” She wiped away a tear falling down her cheek. You had heard this sentence since May, when you turned eighteen, and still your mother sobbed at the mere thought of you being a young adult. “All grown up!” She squeezed you hard.

“You have three other children, mama.” You commented, wrapping your arms around her middle. It was true, you had three younger siblings who weren’t close to your age and thus she had a lot of tears to be excited for in the future.

“But you’re my only girl.” Another thing you’d heard all this summer. You pulled away from her and turned to your little brother, in a uniform too big for his skinny frame; he scratched his neck awkwardly at your mother’s parade of tears.

“Son, this is the beginning of your Wizardry. Do you think you’re ready?” You rolled your eyes as your father turned to Damian, who had the largest satchel hanging from his skinny arm. You sighed and noticed your friends in a compartment, waving manically at you.

“Okay! Time to go. Kisses and hugs!” You kissed both of your parents, hugged them too and jumped into the train, your brother hesitantly following you.

The Hogwarts Express began chugging along in the muggy English weather, you gorged on sweets that you bought with your friends and attempted to calm your brother. He badly wanted to be in the same house as you, Slytherin, but you knew there was a slight chance he could be a Ravenclaw - like your father.

“I don’t want to be part of Ravenclaw!” He whined, stuffing his face with a chocolate frog.

“Ravenclaw’s aren’t that bad, Damian.” Trixie laughed, being a Ravenclaw herself. “We’re actually pretty cool and it means you’re super super smart.” She reached forward and pinched his cheeks, he blushed and batted her away.

You let your friends tease and calm your brother as you settled against the window, your shoulder gently rubbing against the frosty glass as your mind wandered to early Summer when you and Snape had spent a week in a cabin in the forest. Your heart swam as you remember the way he looked at you; the way he held your hand with those warm fingers, twice the size of your own; his obsidian eyes warming as he looked at you walking out of the shower, they roamed over your body and his wandless magic had removed your towel multiple times. He told you stories of his childhood, his friends and his bullies, the people he loathed and the people he loved. You knew about Lily, who couldn’t know about her? She was a renowned beauty throughout the wizarding world and whilst you’re glad of her existence because of Harry, you did wish Snape had never loved her. Lily Potter was a Goddess and you were just a mere servant compared to her beauty. Regardless of all of it, you knew how Snape loved you and not just by his words… his actions, the way his fingertips gently pressed against your skin every night in that cabin and in those sordid, sneaky nights before the school year ended.

“What’s got you smiling?” Trixie laughed, nudging you with her foot. You snapped out of your trance.

“Just excited to be back.” You lied, good enough though because Trixie agreed and kicked her feet. She had been seeing Lion Malfoy, yes, Draco’s disgusting older brother. Not a clue what she sees in him, you always thought.

The train pulled into Hogsmeade, Hagrid standing with his yellow lantern, welcoming the First Years. Your brother shuddered in the cold air as he turned off a corner with the other First Years. Just before you, you saw the beautiful, fawn, majestic castle; glittering with candlelight as the moon cascaded a shimmering glow, like it was protected by a halo. You, Trixie and Lillian hooked arms as you walked towards the entrance of the castle. Your eyes wandered around, looking and noticing the teachers you enjoyed and the ones you hated; all of their eyes on the students who were chattering in high pitched voices and laughing at stupid jokes. You nodded at Flitwick, your favourite teacher, he smiled widely and acknowledged you in return.

“I wonder what’ll be for dinner.” Lillian licked her lips, all of them stepping up the stairs in perfect unison.

“I hope it’s Roast Duck. I’ve been completely enamoured by that meat all summer.” Trixie said, almost in a trance. You and Lillian exchanged a glance over her head, the stone walls of the main building welcoming you with a warm but breezing kiss.

“I wish we could all eat together.” You pouted, knowing that you and Lillian would be the only ones sitting together in your little trio, Trixie elsewhere with Luna Lovegood. Contrary to popular belief, Luna was actually a very interesting person to speak to and you’re glad Trixie had a friend in her house. Most of her friends being in Slytherin, it made it hard for her to create relationships within her own house. Your heart jumped anxiously as the Grand Hall doors were wide open, beckoning in the students with the grandeur of the floating candles and the old aged decorations and, of course, that perfect smell of food. You wanted to look for Snape but that would be too bait, as Lillian was so observant she would instantly know that you were making eyes at him. But you felt him there. You felt that warm touch. The warm touch only you felt, everyone else hated him or was scared of him. You swung your legs over the bench at Slytherin table, opposite Draco and his cronies as they smirked over at a Hufflepuff girl - a girl he shagged, no doubt.

“Welcome! Welcome!” Dumbledore bellowed, his syrupy voice floating through the air with that type of authority that everyone stopped to listen too. He was definitely the most inspiration man at Hogwarts… Despite Snape, but you were biased. Obviously.

The look on the faces of First Years never gets old, that look of naivety and awe as their young eyes roamed over the floating candles, some clutching hands and others looking at the students trying to sort out which House might be the best. You held your breath though when Damian was the first to be called for the Sorting Hat. The Hall blanketed in a hush as he hesitated before climbing on the stage, this time you took the chance to find Snape and there he was. His eyes on you and never leaving until you send him a slight smile, blush creeping from your neck onto your cheeks. He looked amazing. His hair was healthily falling against his shoulders, slightly wavy and his entire uniform its usual black, with that bellowing cape that instantly made people turn the other way. You never did. He tipped his head towards your brother who had taken his place on the chair, the Sorting Hat grumbling. You switched your attention to your poor brother who was basically wetting himself with anticipation.

“Slytherin!” The entire Slytherin table roared and you felt your brother’s shoulders slump, calm and happy as he made his way to the end of the table. You sent him a cheeky smile and he shrugged his shoulders like he knew the entire time he would make it into Slytherin.

After the Sorting Hat ended, you piled your plate with Roast Duck and vegetables and gorged until your stomach couldn’t take it anymore. As Head of Slytherin, Snape came towards the table, waiting to guide the First Years towards the Common Room and you caught his eye, that cheeky glint in his making your cheeks blush hard. You all stood up and made your way to the Common Room. Snape stood by the entrance, watching as his House made their way inside and when you walked by, your knuckles brushed against his, making his tense up.

“What’s happening tonight, then?” Lillian asked, throwing her hair into a ponytail.

“Nothing.” Pansy answered, her nose deep in a book. “Dumbledore banned all parties for Seventh Year.”

“Whaaaaat.” You elongated the word and pouted, slumping against the bed frame, your feet tucked up into your thighs.

“Boring.” Lillian tutted. “We should begin this year with a bang!” You snorted almost silently, knowing that you definitely would be - literally.

The plan of the night was this, you would wait until your friends were deep in a slumber - you actually thought about giving them a Sleeping Draught - and you would sneak out in the night dress that Snape absolutely adored and you would see him, probably not spend the night with him but at least be able to touch him. Then you’d come back with enough time to have a good nights sleep and able to act as if you didn’t meet with your teacher during the night. It was easy. This was her plan almost all of June and then when it came to the cabin holiday, you simply told your parents that you were staying with Trixie.

~

The lights flickered off around ten thirty, Pansy began snoring so you knew she wouldn’t be able to wake up at the sound of you sneaking out and you had to wait for the rest of the girls to make exhausted noises. After a short while, you softly pulled the sheets from your body, the cold hitting you instantly but you held the hiss inside your mouth as you slipped out into the corridors of Hogwarts. Snape’s office wasn’t far but that didn’t mean you could slack off, Filch was a slimy, balding man and could just appear in front of you without you noticing or hearing anything. So you jump into shadows and hide behind pillars when Prefects roamed around the lighted areas. Snape’s office door was slightly ajar and you knew that was a welcome sign to go into his office. As gently as possible, you pushed the door open and found Snape reading a newspaper, his ankle resting on his knee; his chair pushed away from his desk.

“Professor?” You asked sweetly, knowing that your voice would instantly break him from his focus. Dramatically, as always, he folded his newspaper and stared at you with those beautiful black eyes. His eyes roamed over your body before his face broke into a wide smile.

“Y/N!” He breathed, setting his newspaper on his desk and slamming his body into yours. You wrapped your arms around his hard middle, your head tucking into his chest; his hands circled your back before one hand traveled to your hair, stroking it gently. “Y/N. It’s so good to see you.” He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. You pulled your head up, setting your chin on his chest as he smiled down at you.

“Hey.” You whispered and his face broke into another smile. “Missed me?”

“Missed you?” He exclaimed, laughing. “I missed you more than anything!” In one swift movement, he hauled you up into his arms, your legs hanging over and your arms locked around his neck. He twirled you around, both of your laughs mingling and swirling with each other as he kissed you softly on the mouth. He carried you towards his desk chair, sitting down with you in his lap. You moved so your legs were on either side of him, you played with the front parts of his hair as he stared lovingly at you.

“I guess I missed you.” You shrugged, a smirk playing on your lips. His eyebrows raised.

“You guess?” He asked, playfully. Rubbing your upper thigh with his fingers.

“Mhm.” You hummed, trying but failing at the smile journeying across your face.

“Did you miss this?” He planted a kiss on your neck. You hummed in response. “Did you miss this?” He pressed two soft and sensual kisses on your collarbone. “What about this?” He reached forward and parted the satin material of the front of your night dress, revealing slight cleavage and he pressed a very light kiss on your breast bone which sent you giggling as it was a weak spot. He knew this would get you laughing, that magical sound so good upon his ears, and he brought his face up with a laugh. Both of your heads grew closer and your lips met with gentle but hungry speed. His lips moved quickly around your lips, his hand pressed hard against the back of your neck to bring you even closer than before. You finally broke apart and you panted, wanting more of his taste.

“Patience, darling.” He growled, licking his lips. You groaned and planted your forehead on his shoulder, he snickered. “I want to enjoy your company, not just fuck you until you’re senseless. That’ll come in good time.” He poked your nose before kissing it softly. “How was your journey?”

“The usual. I just sat with my friends and ate chocolate, gossiping over boys.” You teased and your heart jumped with joy as his expression grew irritated. “Gets you every time, Severus!” You laughed and he just shook his head. “But yeah, it was nice as always. Nice to finally have my brother here also.”

“Yes, Damian, isn’t it? Just one look at him I thought he would be in Hufflepuff.” He snorted, resting his hands on your butt.

“Don’t insult him!” You playfully hit his chest. “He was nervous, though. He really wanted to be in Slytherin. He’s such a mummy’s boy.” You rolled your eyes but a sense of sisterly protection overcame you. “You will look after him, won’t you? Especially after I graduate? He’s a bit sensitive.” You played with the buttons on his shirt.

“Of course I will. You don’t need to worry about that.” He pressed another kiss on the tip of your nose. “How are you feeling about Seventh Year?” Merlin, that dreaded question. You hated it with every fibre of your body, every time you saw a family member this question was asked and you groaned every time because you simply didn’t want to think about it. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, fiddling with his collar and attempting to dodge the question until he stopped your hand with his rather large one. “Answer me.”

“I get this question day in and day out.” You moaned, pouting like a child.

“And you’re getting asked it again. I would like an answer, please, Y/N.” He pulled your hand away from his collar, wrapping his fingers around yours, his thumb slowly circling the tendon of your own thumb.

“I’m nervous, okay? Being a Slytherin and the daughter of a well respected witch is so pressurising. Sometimes I wish my mother wasn’t so damn good at her craft.” It all came out at once, Snape never took his eyes off your face as you came undone with your worries. “I might even fail my exams, nobody knows yet. I’m just waiting for the day my life comes crumbling around me when my family finally realise I am nothing like my mother. I can never be as good as her.” You genuinely felt like you might cry, but Snape, with his all-knowing power, quickly caressed your cheek - instantly calming you.

“Your mother is incredible.” Okay, not a great start. “But you are both so powerful in different ways. She was brilliant at Potions, making her one of the most important Potion Masters in the Wizarding World. But you, my love, you are good at spells, at herbology. I’ve seen your grades, you are doing remarkably well for a Witch your age. You should be proud of yourself.” You found yourself blushing, and smiling like an idiot - feeling somewhat ashamed of saying you don’t want to be anything like your mother. “There is no doubt that you are both just as talented as the other. Only one thing sets you apart from her, which is that you master any kind of spell you are taught. I’ve known about your mother for some time and it is widely known she really struggled with spells. She struggled to say them, struggled to make them come to fruition. You are also kind and creative. I’ve seen the way you look at your friends, like you’d protect them with your whole body and more. I’ve seen the way you look at me.” He grabbed your hand and put it over his heart, his heartbeat a steady pace and yours slowed down to match it. “I know your talent and your determination. You are no match for any young witch in your year. Remember that.” He softly kissed her again and this time he allowed her to press hungrily against his lips like a camel at the first sight of water. His throat grumbled like a lion as his hands roamed up, under your skirt and over your bare ass - giving it a light slap.

“Thank you, Professor.” You whispered, still slightly embarrassed at your outburst.

“Show me your thanks in the bedroom.” And in one swift movement, you were airborn and into his arms.

[slitheringghost]

Hello! I have a few questions, which I hope you don’t mind [if you do, you can ignore this and/or some of the questions]. I’m just a curious person that finds fun in getting other’s opinions/thoughts on things.

Anyways, the questions:

-> What do you think of Harry, in general? Do you think he’s boring, not so powerful, and just average?

-> I know you like Bellamort, which is valid, but why do you Lilymort [if you even do]?

-> What are your thoughts on Delphini? Like her character in general, her style, background, etc.

-> Who’s your ultimate favorite character(s)?

-> What’s your favorite or least favorite ship?

[Once again, if this is too much, you can just ignore this, I would understand. I don’t mean to be annoying]

Not annoying at all, I’m always ready to ramble about my opinions!

1. Harry is one of my favorite characters, I definitely don’t think he’s boring! He’s certainly magically powerful (i.e. throws off the Imperius curse immediately), and he’s above average intelligence - he’s considered for Ravenclaw by the hat which says he had a good mind. I wouldn’t say he’s brilliant genius level but he’s not supposed to be. With how his character is set up, I think he didn’t need to be on par with Voldemort to defeat him - ideally him coming into his own as a leader, and working together with and leading as many characters as possible to defeat Voldemort *together* and as a joint effort, would’ve been the best conclusion to the series, rather than the last book totally isolating him as it did.

2. I plan to expand on this dynamic in many future metas so I’ll hold off on going into too much detail here, but I recommend reading my metas Unweaving Canon Lily: Parallels to Voldemort and “And Cain Repented Not Of What He Had Done”: Harry Potter As Retelling of Cain and Abel, which elaborate on the dynamic.

It requires very very close reading of the text, as well as catching all the allusions JKR was making (i.e. the extremely central Cain and Abel narrative thread), but effectively Lily is weaved in as Voldemort’s symbolic sister the same way Harry and Voldemort are portrayed as “brothers” and are tied together by the narrative very intricately and inextricably.

This text is meant to be taken apart and woven together again to reveal the true meaning of things - for example, the true meaning of the protections around the Slytherin locket cave as related to Merope’s suffering and abuse in the Gaunt house and Voldemort borrowing Kreacher etc. (which I talk about in my meta Slytherin Locket Save: The Life and Death of Merope Gaunt) isn’t clear unless you use other parts of the text to illuminate it. Voldemort and Lily’s dynamic in canon is similarly one of those parts meant to be put together that way.

(I’d also note that the ship is mostly only interesting if you read Lily as doing intentional magic to defeat him, which I always do.)

3. So I haven’t read Cursed Child and I don’t know many details about Delphini in the play. But I think it’s absolutely believable that Bellamort would have a kid, and in particular that Voldemort would want a kid, especially in GoF/OoTP era when he’s emotional about being alone for 13 years and about his rebirth. I’ve written more about that here. I think Voldemort would be a terrible and abusive parent but one that still deeply loves and is attached to his daughter and would never abandon her. Despite Bella’s “I’d give up my sons as a sacrifice to the Dark Lord” I think she’d be a much better parent, but that’s not saying much.

4. Favorite characters - Lily Evans, Tom Riddle, Harry James Potter, Sirius Black. I’m in a phase of fixating on the former two but my hyperfixations tend to change a lot.

5. Favorite ships - Sirius/Lily, Harry/Ron, Bellatrix/Voldemort, Lily/Voldemort. Least favorite ships - Harry/Ginny and James/Lily

[mors-mvrdre]

highlights

content warning: sexual innuendo / 16+ recommended.

listened to behind the wand and goblet of wine's draigcon podcast with chris rankin today -- here are some highlights (roughly transcribed):

auditioning

"Alright, I'm too old for the main characters, because they're looking for 11/12 year olds and I'm like. 16. And as a 16 year old school prefect in real life, who do I have the highest chance of being cast as? And I thought: Nobody's going to want Percy. So I went for Percy."

casting Penelope for CoS

"They had me help cast Penelope! So they basically took a socially awkward, 17yo spotty ginger kid and went and let him choose a girlfriend. It was basically like, 'So, which one do you like, Chris?'"

filming CoS (paraphrased)

apparently there was actual discussion on set about the logistics of "What was Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley doing in the Slytherin dungeons? Surely it would make more sense for him to be patrolling near his Common Room", and it just delved into jokes about how in the books when Ron and Harry go to the dungeons to find Draco they come across a blonde Ravenclaw (cough cough penny) not 5 minutes before they come across Percy, and then Draco says something like "yeah, he's down here a lot", which to me is just-- pfffffffffft HAHAHA

FANFICTION

Chris: Have I read Percy fic? Yes. Podcast: Do you wish you hadn't? Chris: Uhhh, it's been a while, if I'm honest. But there were some wonderful Percy/Oliver ones. Chris: And I say wonderful in the sense that I found them absolutely hilarious, and Sean Biggerstaff finds them just... deeply disturbing, and really quite worrying.

the misunderstanding (innuendo is here)

Random listener: If Percy went to a pub on a friday night, what do you think he'd order? Chris: I thought you said "if Percy went to a park on a friday night"(laughing) That would be a whole other scenario! "What would Percy be doing at a park on a friday night?" Chris, singson: Slash Fiction time~~ Oliver's wood. (table proceeds to die laughing)

actual answer: I think a gin and tonic? He's got a 1920s vibe.

cauldron leaks

Podcast: Any other topics you want to talk/discuss about Percy? Chris, in a very posh and haughty tone: cAuLdRon BoTtOms