#ron just shrugged and accepted that it was just a part of harry

[yuri-sorted-into-ravenpuff]

Warning: Talks of using sharp objects like blade/knives.

Harry who, even after gaining a wand, still carries around a small blade or knife on his person. Despite being in Hogwarts for months now, he still feels uncomfortable, not to mention unsafe. Yes, Hermoine and Ron makes him feel safe at times, even Professor McGonagall became an adult figure that he believes will risk everything to protect him, but still there's something wrong in the first place that he can even call home.

And he doesn't like it. He wants to remove whatever it is that is making him feel skittish.

Then the troll happens. He's thankful for his blade. He instructed Ron to use the wingardium leviosa on him and to drop him above the troll's head. He trusts Ron to do it, after all, Hermoine's there to coach him as well.

Ron succeeded though he is struggling, he brought out his blade, and told the redhead to let him go. He angled the blade to go straight into the troll's head, making sure that the beast would instantly be killed. Or at least incapacitated.

When the blade was buried on the troll's head, it roared in pain. Hermoine instantly used wingardium leviosa on the sharp pieces that the destroyed sink left around her, Ron took one rather large piece and ran to stab the beast as hard as he can on its leg.

When the teachers came running towards their direction, all of them are covered in troll blood. The others are horrified, though he could see a rather proud glint on their Head of the House's eyes.

[faiell]

favour

for @drarrymicrofic, G, 900 words

Malfoy isn’t expecting anyone. He's hunched over his work with elbows like two knife points stabbed into the desk, one hand threading through his soft downy hair and the other fidgeting on his face, knuckle running back and forth against his bottom lip. The yellow light from his lamp flickers temperamentally, barely able to offer anything other than a glow on Malfoy's cheek. Malfoy squints at the cascade of parchment before him, then pushes his fingers against his eyes. He inhales, slow. Blinks his eyes back open, exhales.

Harry's been standing there a while. "Sorry to interrupt," he says.

Malfoy's mouth parts in surprise. It takes a moment before he registers that Harry is a very real thing, and not some conjured spectre. Then every part of him straightens into place. The papers flutter as he sweeps them back into their folders, snapping the covers shut—away from Harry's prying eyes, presumably.

"What are you doing here?" There's none of the usual bite to it, not when the small hours have got Malfoy whittled down like this. He looks feather-light, blurred to softness in the midnight blues and greys.

Harry approaches the desk and sets down his peace offering. It's Muggle coffee in a nondescript paper cup--Malfoy's favourite order from his favourite café, though he doesn't know it yet.

"My shift just started," he offers, which explains nothing at all. He sees Malfoy beginning to think through it, mouth and brow curving towards each other. "Picked this up for you on the way."

Malfoy’s expression of bafflement is delightfully wide-eyed. All of his usual mechanisms don't seem to be working. Harry keeps expecting a switch to flip, for Malfoy to shore up and retreat into icy waters, but it doesn't come. Instead his pale hands reach for the cup and cradle it, fingers skittering against the paper texture, thumbnail underlining the scrawl of 'Harry' on the side. The steam tickles his chin. With the coffee clutched close to him, Malfoy speaks, voice flaky and uncertain, "I can't accept this."

"Don't be daft," Harry insists. "It's two in the morning, take it."

Malfoy's frown grows deeper as he contemplates this additional fact. "There's nothing open this late."

It's true. Harry's kept that coffee under a stasis charm for twelve hours now. "I got it for Ron, but he's not in today," he amends, and gestures with the cup in his other hand, "Got myself one too."

Malfoy wants the coffee, craves it badly. Harry can see it in the way that he holds the warmth of it towards himself, shoulders drooping as he savours the rich chocolatey aroma. He's about to give into it, has brought the coffee all the way up to his mouth when he stops, eyes trained on Harry, glinting like burnished steel. "You must want something from me."

Harry shrugs, nonchalance teetering on his shoulder. He takes a sip of his own, lets it sit bittersweet on his tongue before swallowing it down. Malfoy's gaze slides from his mouth and catches on his throat, before it scuttles back to his own hands again.

"No, I don’t. You don't have to overthink it, Malfoy. It's just a favour."

The word holds more tension than it should. Harry knows Malfoy hates owing him, and that's why he's gone to all this trouble, cajoled him so carefully. He’s been at it for weeks now, first out of kindness, then out of spite, and now because…—well, because he’s tenacious, probably. The room slips into silence as Malfoy considers, until both of them become invisible and there’s just the coffee on the desk, lit up by weak lamplight. 

Harry’s so hopeful he forgets to breathe. His pulse climbs from his chest up to his head until it’s deafening. He’s sure he’s about to burst when, abruptly, Malfoy gives in with a little jerk of his shoulders, the scarcest of shrugs. He drinks. His lips wrap around the plastic and he tilts it back, slow and delicate, taking the shallowest sip.

Malfoy's eyes widen just a fraction when he recognizes the flavour of it. His tongue works inside his mouth as he rolls the taste around, once, twice, and again, just to be sure. A small, pleased sound comes out then, and before Harry can even register what that means, Malfoy brings the cup to his mouth again and takes three big gulps.

He sighs, eyes closed, contentment chasing away the shadows dragging at his face, and suddenly he’s years younger. There's cream on his upper lip. Harry is transfixed. The flickering lamp grows a bit brighter, buoyed by Malfoy's magic and finally illuminating the workstation properly, bathing his washed-out figure in warm hues.

"Well thanks," Malfoy says, smirking, because that's what he does instead of smiling. A pointed tongue darts out to catch some cream, missing most of it. "You should probably go, Potter. You don't even work on this floor."

[nebulablakemurphy]

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 9)

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, discussions of trauma and mental illness; reader discretion advised.

18+ ONLY this chapter contains sexual content.

Part 8

Hermione and Ron’s daughter, Rose, Harry and Ginny’s son, Albus, and Rosanna and Draco’s son, Scorpius, are all born within three months of each other. Rose is the oldest, followed by Scorpius and finally Albus.

All of their children remain close growing up, their lives forever entwined. But the three of them are truly inseparable.

Years pass, Harry is head of the auror department, spending a fair share of time with Draco. His partner of sorts, after Ron left the ministry, to join Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione succeeded Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister for Magic.

For all intents and purposes, Rosanna still works interrogations. But truly she's a floater; she goes wherever they need her.

A twelve year old Rose, blows out her birthday candles, making a wish as everyone cheers. Hermione has a few tears in her eyes.

"Alright presents, presents for the birthday girl!" Molly takes her job as grandmother very seriously.

"We have loads to open. Ron, cut the cake for us, will you?" Hermione presses a hand to her husband's back.

"Yeah, Ron. Cut the cake for us!" Not two, but four voices sound in unison. Fred and George Weasley have always been especially fond of the Malfoy twins, and vice versa.

Molly eyes them fondly, yet in warning.

"This one's from me!" Hugo holds up the parcel, proudly. "And Mum and Dad."

Rose moves the present to her ear, shaking it with a smile.

"Sounds like-" Scorpius leans closer.

"We're here! We're late! We're sorry, Rose!" Leo rushes into the room, boyfriend Henry in tow. The blonde leans down, kissing Rose's head.

Rose reaches back and offers an awkward sort of hug. "Thanks for coming, Leo. I know you're busy."

"Never too busy for you." Leo is jet lagged, coming off a huge win, as seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. The all female team is headed for the Quiddich World Cup, for the first time in history.

"It's my fault, I'm always slowing her down. The muggle airports are a nightmare!" Leo’s boyfriend, Henry, is a rather tall, lanky man, with chestnut curls that spring freely about his head. As it turns out, squibs can't travel far by apparating with a witch or wizard. So when they travel long distance, it's by plane.

"Tell us about it." Helen, Hermione's mother understands completely.

"Anytime we go on holiday, security is barmy! They on flagged me because I forgot about my shoe buckle. They checked our luggage twice and we missed the entire flight." Hermione’s father, chimes in.

The conversation sparks Arthur's interest. In his humble opinion, muggle endeavors are more interesting than most magical ones.

Leo sets a large rectangular box near the growing pile at Rose's feet with a wink.

"What is it?" Albus inquires.

"You'll have to wait and see." Leo shrugs, ruffling his hair.

The Malfoy's are known for their extravagant gifts. This stems largely from Draco's upbringing. Gifting is his love language, Rosanna is showered in jewelry and clothing and handbags. Their children are no different, it is their father's way of showing just how much he adores them.

Rosanna accepts graciously and encourages others to do the same. This is particularly hard for Ron. Who for the longest time, thought Draco was just boasting about how wealthy he was.

The other children twiddle about, watching the gifts unwrap.

"Stop, James!" Polaris swats the boy's nagging hand away. He’s been tugging at her white blonde hair.

"Well if your big head weren't in the way." James remarks with wicked grin, giving another tug on her locks.

"Quit, James, I'm serious." Polaris pulls the end of her ponytail over one shoulder.

"No. I'm Sirius, James Sirius." He is a shameless flirt.

"That isn't funny, you must realize that." Vega scowls.

"Don't be so hard on him, he's trying." Roxanne, Angelina and George's daughter, remarks. "Can't all be blessed with the funny gene."

————————————————————————

When things are good, they’re good. But when it rains, it pours.

Rosanna stomps toward her husband's office. Fuming down the hallway, past her coworkers with the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, clenched in her first.

Draco's door opens for her, on command, "sweetheart." He greets, from behind his desk. A bit of green apple still trapped between his teeth. “What’s happened?"

Rosanna slams the paper down onto the desktop, hand trembling as she does. "He can't go in September."

Draco sighs, skimming the front page. 'Desperate for male heir, Draco Malfoy acquired a time turner to have wife impregnated by He Who Shall Not Be Named. Scorpius Malfoy, son of the dark lord and Rosanna Malfoy is set to attend Hogwarts this coming fall.”

"It's too wordy, Skeeter has lost her touch." Draco shrugs, brushing the paper aside.

"Scorpius can't go to Hogwarts." Rosanna wraps both arms around herself.

"Of course he's going. Come off it." Draco can feel a throb take up in his left temple.

"Did you read what she said?” Rosanna's tone verges on hysterical. "What she's implying-"

"Is as disgusting as it is far fetched." Draco says, dismissively. "No one's going to believe this rubbish."

"You don't understand." Rosanna shakes her head, making to leave.

Draco stops her, leaning his body heavily against the door, blocking her exit. "Enlighten me." He taps her temple twice, before resting his hand against the side of her neck.

She fills his mind with hushed whispers and sideways glances. The apologetic smiles from members of her department, snickers and sneers from the last man brought in for questioning.

"You'd never do it for him, you know?" The man scoffed, teeth rotting out of his foul mouth. "You reek of desperation and remorse. You're pretty poppet; but you're weak. The dark lord couldn't get up for you."

"That's just ridiculous," Draco mutters, as they finally break apart. "Any man could get up for you."

"This isn't a joke." She snaps. "What if the other kids, or their parents see this and think-"

"No one who's anyone is going to believe this." Draco says again, softly. "He's been waiting to attend Hogwarts for years. We can't keep him home."

"What are we going to tell him?" They can shelter him at the manor. In their small group of friends, but not forever.

"We're going to tell him what we've told him a thousand times. People say things about our family that are vile, and moreover untrue." Draco understands this is hard, he knows she's frustrated. But they're on the same side and he doesn't want to fight.

"Rita's been saying Scorpius wasn't yours since he was born. But this...is the worst. How could she think that he-"

"Hush, love." Draco draws her into his chest, swaying her gently. "Scorpius is a wonderful, loving, smart, compassionate boy. He's our boy, and he's good."

————————————————————————

The months leading up to their youngest child's departure are torturous. They speak about the war, the parts they played. How sometimes they worked with opposing forces, but truly they always fought for each other. A vague rundown of their prophecy, briefly touching on the blurred lines they'd crossed while Rosanna was under the imperius curse. They mention Hermione's torture, the final battle, how choosing Harry allowed him to win.

Presenting their son with his own copy of their autobiography. "Through Love And By Love" by Draco and Rosanna Malfoy, was on the required reading list for seventh years.

Although he wouldn’t be reading it for sometime; each of their children was given a copy with their dedication on the first page.

'For Leo Selene, our every dream, the light at the end of the tunnel, and inspiration to write this story.'

'For Arlo Cressida, our reason to seek healing, the hope for a better future, and inspiration to share this story.'

'For Vega Juniper, our next chapter, the first half of our double trouble, the world is a better place for having you in it.'

'For Polaris Athena, our moving forward and second half spitfire, you burn as brightly as the star for which you are named.'

'For Scorpius Hyperion, our proof that history does not always repeat itself, and that things will get better; no matter how impossible it seems.'

Scorpius runs his fingertips over the scripture, "I know why you're worried about me. But I'm your son," he says, proudly. "If you can survive all of that," he clears his throat, "I can survive being called names."

"Some people suck," Rosanna tells him, leaning forward to take his hands. "Don't let them get under your skin. Always remember who you are."

"You'll have Albus and Rose there with you." Draco tacks on, "Your sisters too, if you need them; James, Teddy-"

"I know Dad," Scorpius cuts off his father with a lopsided grin.

Rosanna pulls back, before she bursts into tears. "You want some tea?" She runs a hand over Draco's hair.

He turns, slightly, kissing the inside of her wrist. "Tea would be nice."

————————————————————————

"Did you get the talk too then?" Rose asks, aboard the Hogwarts Express, after their parents and the train station have disappeared from view.

"You mean the birds and the bees? Yes, I did. It was awful, thanks for reminding me." Scorpius frowns.

"No, not that talk." Rose rolls her eyes.

"You mean about the Wizarding war?" Albus asks his cousin.

"Exactly...you in particular, Scorpius. How are you doing?" She puts her hand over his.

"I'm fine, Rose." He stammers, "it's weird though, my looks favor my Dad. I'm surprised no one's said she's not my real Mum."

"Everybody knows Skeeter's a tosspot." Albus shrugs. "And that's besides the point, if any of you are fathered by you know who, it's Polaris." The girl is a nightmare in her own right.

"Then Vega too, by default." Rose says disapprovingly. "They are identical twins; that means one embryo divided during-"

"Don't you think he's suffered enough without thinking about his Mum's embryos?" Albus scolds his cousin.

Scorpius smiles, "thanks, Al. What'd you say we try our luck flagging down the trolley? I want to try the chocolates."

————————————————————————

Arlo leaves her train car and Ravenclaw roommates, to wander down and check on her brother. Peeking through the glass window at her youngest sibling, having a laugh with Rose and Albus. The seats around them full of empty sweet wrappers.

She's about to knock and get his attention, when someone startles her.

"Is he someone I should know?" A burly, dark haired, boy asks. His door pulled open behind her.

"Excuse me?" Arlo turns quickly, it's not a voice she recognizes, heavily accented and deep.

"You are the third one to look in." The boy motions to Scorpius. “Is he special?"

"I guess that depends on who you ask," she shrugs. "He's my kid brother. I have three sisters, two are still students, we're supposed to look out for him."

"He is special then." The stranger nods.

"You're not from here." Arlo says with a smile. It's a breath of fresh air, meeting someone who has no clue what sodding Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet, has been saying about their family for years.

"What gave me away?" He laughs, flashing her a blinding grin.

"Well for starters, you've got a smidge of an accent. Any relation to Bulgarian Bon Bon, Viktor Krum?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Bulgarian Bon Bon?" He's never heard the term.

"Never mind, it's just a thing-" she shakes her head.

He grins. "I am Marko Petrov."

"Arlo Malfoy." She extends her hand for a shake.

"Nice to meet you, my Arlo." The tall man takes her hand gently, pressing his lips to the back.

"Just Arlo," she stammers, breathlessly.

"I will learn." He takes a step back, bowing his head.

"Honest mistake." Arlo waves away his concern, "so what brings you to Hogwarts?"

"My mother passed away three years ago." Petrov explains.

"Oh, I’m sorry."

"My father’s new wife was teaching in Bulgaria. But her home is here." Marko tells his new found friend.

Arlo nods.

"Now we’re here." His voice is pleasant. The longer he speaks, the more Arlo wants to listen.

"I've gotta get back to my friends. But you can come sit with us, if you want." Arlo offers, waving him back toward her seat.

"What about your brother?" The transfer student asks.

"Scorpius is fine." Arlo assures him, he hasn't even noticed her standing in the doorway; for what was, at this point, an obscene amount of time.

"Scorpius?"

"We're all named after stars and constellations," Arlo explains. "It's kind of stupid, but it's a thing."

————————————————————————

Over the next few days, Draco and Rosanna receive daily letters from their children. Knowing from past experience, that they will die down after the first month.

"We have another Slytherin." Rosanna shakes the parchment at her husband as he lounges on the couch. Feet propped up on the coffee table, reading over a case file.

They had a Gryffindor, then a Ravenclaw, another Gryffindor and finally a Slytherin with Polaris, now again with Scorpius.

"Shall we head down to Diagon Ally and pick up him up a few robes?" The man is grinning at the news, taking the note to read for himself. "We can make a day of it."

"Sure, I'm gonna hop in the shower quick." She kisses the top of his head.

Rosanna loves his hair, she always has. So when he came to her, three years ago, and asked how she felt about him letting it grow out; Ro was all for it.

‘See if you like it, if not, cut it off, it's only hair.' She laughs, stopping him from agonizing over the prospect any longer.

Now it hangs well past his shoulders.

Draco sets the letter aside, venturing up the stairs to their washroom. He can hear the steady stream of the water, over Rosanna's singing. She has quite a pleasant voice, thick and sweet like honey.

He opens the door, stripping off his clothes. They haven't had a shag in the shower for years.

Rosanna hears rustling outside of the, sliding, glass door. Popping her head out. "Baby?"

"Who else?" He chuckles.

"Alright, smart ass, you wanna piece of me?" Rosanna arches a brow at him.

"Actually," Draco half smirks, "yes I do."

"You're a pervert, Malfoy, has anyone ever told you that?" She watches her husband step inside.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it, Malfoy." He slides the door closed behind him, trapping in the warm air.

Rosanna smiles, with a shake of her head. "What if I don't?"

Draco tips her chin up, her eyes locked on his; burning with desire. Swiping his thumb over her bottom lip. "Shall I go then? Since you don't appreciate my advances."

"No." Her breath grows shallow, as he backs her against the tile wall.

"Better choose your words more carefully, my darling. Someone might get their feelings hurt." The corners of his mouth turn upwards.

She nods, mouth suddenly dry.

Draco blinks at her expectantly. "Why don’t you tell me what it is you want?”

"You." The confession slips past her lips, easy as breathing. "I want you."

"Care to be a bit more specific?" He nuzzles his nose against hers. "Seeing as I already belong to you in every way imaginable."

"I want-"

He moves his leg between hers, pressing against the apex of her thighs. "What?" He pulls back, when her lips search for his.

She whines, squirming against him. "Draco."

"You're not very articulate today, sweetheart.” The man taunts. "Shall I go first?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." Ro says, lips parted, slightly.

"I want to fuck you, against this wall. I want your fingers twisted in my hair, tugging and releasing, because they can't decide which pleases them more.” His voice is hypnotic, intoxicating. "I want your lips against mine, when you can't be bothered with kisses and just whimper until you cum. I want you to remember what it feels like to have me so deep inside that your pretty little cunt is sore. I want you full with my child, again." Draco purrs against her ear.

Oh. She mulls over his proposition while sliding the elastic band down hair. Fanning it out to frame his face, as best she can. "Yes, please."

"Please, what?" He murmurs, over the warm spray of the water.

"Please, fuck me." The cheeky little thing guides his mouth to hers.

"And what of my other request?" Draco inquires, if she says no, he'll cast the sodding protection charm; he needs to be inside her.

"Do it.” She agrees, “now.”

"You've never been one for delayed gratification. I've loved that about you since I was a boy." Draco confesses, sealing his lips over hers and lifting her up so that soft legs wrap around his waist.

Rosanna moans into his mouth, as his length fills her. "Shit, baby," her head thunks against the shower wall.

Draco sucks bruises into the exposed skin of her neck. Moving to her nipples with the same suction, one hand pressed against her back, keeping her arched toward him.

"You are so lovely," he whispers. "All mine."

Rosanna tugs his hair, pulling him back up to her. "Yours," she sighs, contently, against his lips.

His hands grope her bum, greedily. Thrusting harder, brushing against the spot that drives her mad.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." She chants like a prayer, nails raking over his pale skin.

"I love you." Draco replies, because there's not a proper word for how he feels about her. So he settles for love. Making her cum twice and swallowing her breathy whines.

“Fuck,” she begins to protest as his nimble fingers snake between them, teasing her sensitive clit. “Draco.”

“Cum on my cock again,” he orders.

“Please,” she whimpers, not entirely sure what she’s pleading for. The coil in her lower belly tightens, the sensation almost painful.

“Hush, my sweetheart.” He doubles the speed of his ministrations, guiding her lips back to his. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

Colors explode behind her eyelids, release washing over her in searing waves, never seeming to wane.

Draco follows her over the edge. Where you go, I go.

————————————————————————

The paper’s headlines remain cruel. Granting no clemency.

'Bandaid baby to mend Rosanna and Draco Malfoy’s crumbling marriage."

'Leo Malfoy to wed squib, further besmirching bloodline.'

'Arlo Malfoy's suspected teen pregnancy with Bulgarian transfer student.’

'Vega Malfoy caught snogging roommate Arlene Fischer.'

'Polaris Malfoy attempts woo James Potter, nearly one year her junior.'

'Scorpius Malfoy, son of the Dark Lord and Rosanna Malfoy, sorted Slytherin.'

———————————————————————-

The children return home for Christmas. Rosanna pops in to say goodnight to each of them. Her second oldest daughter being the last stop. "Arlo, can we talk?"

She cuts her mother off. "I'm not pregnant."

"I know." Rosanna assures her. "I'm sure you're being safe."

Arlo sits up, motioning for Mum to join her on the bed. "We're not... doing that. I'm not ready. No offense, but I don't envy you. Having a kid right now- I don't think I could do it."

"You could, if you had to." Rosanna tells her, softly, "you think you can't. But somehow you just do."

Arlo offers her the brush, off of the bedside table. Turning so that her mother can braid her hair, like when she was a little girl. "Didn’t it ever piss you off? That you couldn’t finish school or do what you wanted?"

"Before I had Leo; I worried I wouldn't be able to bond with a child that I wasn't ready to have. But when she was born I understood. All those plans, goals, dreams, the things I wanted… didn't matter to me anymore. Because I was holding the entire world in my arms, she became my dream, she was everything I wanted. I felt the exact same way each and every time I held you. I wanted you, more than I wanted anything else." Rosanna begins weaving soft tresses into a fishtail braid.

"You're a good Mum." Arlo tells her, just in case she doesn't know.

Rosanna gives her shoulder a squeeze, "I'm trying."

Arlo relaxes into her mother's calming touch. "I'm meant to read the book this summer. It's on the required list."

"I can talk to Head Master McGonagall, if you need more time. I'm sure she will make an exception." It isn’t meant to be a burden on any of their children.

"I had Marko read it early. He said it was a good read. He didn't realize that you wrote it actually, I had to explain it to him." She’s become quite taken with her Bulgarian boyfriend. "Anyway, he has some questions. I think I probably will too. After I'm finished, do you think it’d be alright for us to sit down with you and Dad...and talk?"

"Yeah, of course, we can do that." Rosanna secures the elastic at the end of Arlo's strawberry blonde plat. She leans forward, kissing the back of her daughter's head.

"One more thing." Arlo catches Rosanna's wrist. "You said, in your dedication, that I was the reason to share your story. I think that's beautiful, but why me?"

"A lot of people expected different things after the war. They expected me to take Leo and leave your Dad. They expected me to press charges and send him to Azkaban. They expected me to lean heavily into my friends, because they were 'good' and the Malfoy's weren’t.” It's hard to think back to that dark time, after the war. When the world was quite literally in shambles.

“There was a moment of panic. How could we stop pretending like nothing happened; but at the same time let people know I was ok. I wasn't with your dad because of a curse, or a prophecy, or because he was the father of my child. I was with him because I love him. That was the story I wanted to tell; and I wanted to tell it for you. It never really stopped the media circus or the side ways glances. But you deserve to have all the facts in one place." Rosanna twists her hands in her lap, restlessly.

"Didn't you ever want the glory?" Arlo wonders, turning to search Rosanna's eyes.

"For a long time I thought I was going to die, that your dad was going to die. I thought I'd never see my parents again. Or my friends,” Rosanna tells her daughter. "Being here, married to your dad and getting to see my friends happy, with kids of their own, watching all of you grow up together. That is the glory for me."

"And your card comes inside the chocolate frog box." Arlo reminds her.

"That's pretty cool too." Rosanna laughs.

Part 10

[shortandslytherin]

The Fake Gryffindor - Neville Longbottom x Y/N Malfoy (Part 1)

Summary: The reader finds herself caught up in a web of lies when she accidentally is mistaken for a Gryffindor. Soon she finds herself covering up lies for Draco and her family but she might just have a few secrets of her own.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, light angst? (Probably more like hurt/comfort), Y/N lies a lot, and a curse word or two.

Notes: Y/N is Draco's twin. Y/N will have she/her pronouns. She's obviously going to look like Draco but occasionally will change that. In the occasions when she changes that I'll use (h/c) or (e/c). If you are blonde or have blue eyes just use whatever colors you'd like. I'll also use (Y/N/N) which means your nickname but that will make more sense later on.

I proofread this myself like four times but never asked anyone else to proofread. I'm sorry if this has any errors in it, just let me know and I'll fix them.

You were deeply madly in love....with Neville Longbottom. You knew your family would never approve. He was not only a Gryffindor but also a blood traitor. But probably the worst of it was he was the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom. But had you just broken his heart? You knew your family wouldn't accept him but after everything you thought he maybe he'd accept you. You often asked yourself how the tiny affair all began and the answer is quite simple really. It all began from an inopportune duel between Draco and Harry in the corridor.

September 1995

It was common knowledge that the Malfoy Twins could almost always be found together. Sure, you had different friends but you'd always be found together like two peas in a pod. However, this common knowledge seemed to be lost on Harry Potter. "MALFOY!!!" He screeched as he ran down the hall and you both turned around. "I know you sabotaged Neville." Before either of you could say anything a jinx was being thrown your brother's way. Draco pulled out his wand and shot a jinx. All you could think was. "Where were all the professors at time like this?!" You heard both boys shoot another spell and they bounced off each other. One staining your robes the sickly colors of Gryffindor and the other causing Ron Weasley to sneeze bats. You were angry until you saw Ron then you could only laugh. When the Golden Trio walked away, you looked to your twin. "How do I fix this?" He shrugged in response. "I'm not sure...I think a switching spell? I'm struggling with that one." You gave him an annoyed look. He continues. "We don't have time to find a professor to help. But you can't be caught dead in that." He pointed his wand to your hair. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Colovaria." He spoke the word that changed the color of your robes and now your hair was (h/c).

"Oh, do my eyes too. I kind of think the stormy-grey blue won't go good with anything but our platinum blonde." You rambled and your brother rolled his eyes then pointed his wand to your eyes. "Colovaria." Now your eyes were (e/c) but soon enough this would need to be fixed and you'd look like a Malfoy again.

So Draco Malfoy walked alongside his sister towards nearest stairwell so they could get to lunch. To the untrained eye he was spending time with a Gryffindor but there were some who would know the truth just by their interactions. Neville Longbottom wasn't one of those people. He was rushing out of the potions classroom after a long lecture from Snape about blowing up his cauldron. His eyes were filled with tears. How could they not be? Snape was literally his boggart and you were fully prepared yell him to watch where he was going. But two things stopped you. One, you were pretty sure he had no clue who you were. Two, he was already in a frenzy from whatever your godfather said. “I’m so so so sorry!” Neville quickly apologized and you found yourself dumbstruck. He continued speaking. “Are you okay??” Neville quickly scans his eyes over you just to make sure. Neville Longbottom actually for the first time seemed like a person. Had you just thought differently because of your twin's perception of the chubby teen? "Umm...I'm fine." You looked more at Draco than Neville as if saying that you could take care of it. Draco shrugged and left; which left you alone with Neville. "Oh. So you aren't hurt? Sorry! Sorry!" Neville's cheeks turned bright red. You gave him a reassuring smile. You were no fool. You knew how he actually felt about you and your brother. But still you felt the need to comfort him. "You should calm down a little. Are you doing okay? You look a little freaked out." You tilt head to the side in questioning of his well being. Neville let out a deep breath. "No, I'm not okay. I just had a terrible class with Professor Snape!" You nod in understanding. You were in that class and Draco did indeed sabotage Neville's potion. But in all honesty, it probably would have blown up anyway because his potions partner was Seamus Finnigan. You were well aware that both boys were forced to stay after class. You didn't really know much more than that; except that you bumped into a seemingly distraught Neville. He turned his face away out of embarrassment shook his head at situation. Clearly, he was embarrassed of his fear. You felt an overwhelming amount of pity for him but you wanted to comfort him anyways. "Don't fret, I've got thick skin. You didn't hurt me." You reassure him again before quickly thinking on your toes in what you should say. "Yeah I saw that...I mean kind of. I left class when he'd asked you and Finnigan to stay back. No point in sticking around to listen Snape yell longer than I have to." He looks at you oddly so you just keep talking. "I just mean I was in potions just now. I can't say I'm surprised since it happens all the time. He yells at everyone. You don't have to be embarrassed about it." There seems to be a little nod of agreement at this and you remember something you've always hated. "You could be like Draco or Y/N and only be his favorite student because you're his godchild. Or you could be yourself and know that all you can do is your best." The way Snape picked his favorites sounded like nepotism and that's the only reason you hated it. It wasn't nepotism. You were actually always getting Os in Potions but it just sounded as such. Neville, however, seemed to be upset by your words of comfort. "I always try my best but it's never enough! He hates me!" He shook his head as a few tears fell down his cheeks. "Why does he hate me? Why? Did I do something to him?"

You were taken back by the reaction. You were a Malfoy. Malfoys didn't really do well with emotions. They were usually packed up on a shelf and never heard of again. Isn't that why Draco dated Pansy though? So he could feel...something? You knew you had to say something. "You didn't do anything." You glanced around real quick to make sure no one is listening before continuing "Listen, I shouldn't really say anything bad about him because he's...well you know. But I can't stand here and see one of the few people I actually think deserve respect cry so I'll be honest with you." You paused at your own words. Since when did you think Neville Longbottom deserved respect? It didn't matter. Shelf it. You continued on. "You didn't do anything wrong, Professor Snape is just a bitter old man. Don't let him get you down. Prove him wrong." Neville's sad expression turns into a determined look. The tears running down his cheeks were quickly wiped away by himself. "Y-you're right. You're totally right. The next time he insults me, I'm not going to let it affect me! I'm going to prove him wrong!" Neville says, sounding much more confident than how he usually is. The boost in Neville's confidence makes you smile brightly. "That's the spirit. You should put the same spirit in for anyone who insults you. You shouldn't let the opinions of others hurt you so much. Especially when they aren't true." Neville chuckles in response. "Thanks, I'll try. It's always easier to give advice than to accept it." You know he's right so you just offer a tiny shrug. But you didn't know his next words would feel like acid on your skin until you heard them. "I always get picked on at school. People call me names, laugh at my mistakes, make fun of me. It's horrible. It's always easier to believe those things than to believe I'm worthy." You find yourself trying to fix the past four years mistakes in one speech. "Well then don't believe what's easiest. Believe what the sorting hat already knows. The sorting hat is never wrong, you know? So if the sorting hat is never wrong then I believe it's in you, you just gotta believe it too." You smile again before giving a light laugh. "Well I should head off to find my friends so we can go to lunch. Hey, I'm not saying that you have to but if you want to when everyone is in the Great Hall for dinner, wanna come watch the sunset with me? It's my favorite time of day." Neville can't help but smile. "Yeah for sure. I'd love to watch the sunset with you. I didn't catch your name though." Neville's confidence is back again. You grin at him. "Because I didn't throw it. If you actually show up tonight, I'll tell you it. Bye, Longbottom." He says goodbye as well and heads off to The Great Hall. As soon as he's out of sight, you rush off to Slytherin Common room where you'd planned to hide out until you get help fixing Harry Potter's mess.

When lunch was over, you found your godfather in his office and explained the situation. "You're both fools." He said monotonously. "It's a simple color changing spell. Same spell that caused the problem." He did the coloring changing spell to everything effected then sent you off to class. You looked like Y/N Malfoy again. But as for feeling like yourself, you didn't. You talked to Neville Longbottom without an hostility laced into your voice. It's a strange feeling. A feeling that had you dragging your feet through the halls of the castle. "Did anyone see the girl with Neville?" A voice asks from an empty classroom so you peak in. Dean Thomas must have asked because he has a curious look on his face. "Nah, Mate. But he seems to be in a much better mood since talking to her. He said she didn't give her name." Seamus confesses. "What house was she from? Because that narrows it down." Ron asks and your heartbeat picks up. They're talking about you. Neville told his friends about you. Hermione shrugs. "I think he'd told Harry she was a Gryffindor." Then the conversation shifts to 'Where is Harry anyways?' so you walk away. You just wanted to cheer Neville up. You invited him to watch the sunset with you because it's a nice thing to do. You didn't think he'd tell his friends about you. Oh, you were so screwed it wasn't funny. You have to talk to Draco during your next class. You just felt so lucky that your next class was Charms. You were pretty decent at Charms. You could half listen to Flitwick and still pass your O.W.L.s at the end of the school year.

You walked into class and dropped down aggressively next to your twin. You rolled your eyes at his confused cronies and even more confused girlfriend. "Crabbe...Goyle, get lost. Go sit with Nott or Zabini. I can't stand deal with any more idiots than I already have today." Goyle seems taken back by your tone. "Fuck, you're moody." Then the two rushed off before you could lash out at them. "Pansy, I'm sorry but I really need to talk to Draco about something private. Can you sit somewhere else? You can have him all to yourself the rest of the day. I swear I'll keep Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber away from you both." You negotiated like Draco wasn't sitting right there. "Deal." The other Slytherin girl replied; before she bounded off to sit and gossip with Daphne Greengrass. "Aren't you glad I sent her away?" You joked and Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you want?" You made a face. "Well....I made a snap decision and it may have been a bad one. And now I think I need your advice." Draco rolls his eyes. "Oh Merlin, what did you do?"

"That's the thing I felt an obligation to cheer up Longbottom."

"Why? It's just Longbottom. He can't even use his own wand right."

"Well for starters, I bumped into him and he apologized. He was already crying because of our Godfather. Our aunt drove his parents mad. Need I go on?" You give Draco an annoyed expression.

"No, continue."

"So I cheered him up...but then suddenly he was all upset again talking about how he's bullied all the time...it kinda made me feel bad."

"What did you do?'

"I invited him to watch the sunset with me. But I didn't tell him who I am."

"What were you going to do tell him when he showed up?" He chuckles and then suddenly stops. "Wait... seriously? That's a horrible plan." You nodded in agreement. "Especially now that I've heard all his friends talking about this Gryffindor girl that Neville mentioned and wouldn't you know he met her today, doesn't know her name, and she lifted his spirits." You relay to your brother and he raises an eyebrow at you. "So it's simple. Give him one night of whatever it is he needs from this little Gryffindor version of you then disappear off the face of the planet." You nod. "I can do that."

After all the classes for the day ended, there was free time which you spent on reading. Shortly before it was time for dinner, you've changed into a warm sweater and a pair of jeans so you can stand the cool night air. However, the coloring changing spell has been used on your eyes and on your hair. You walk through the corridors of the school and make your way out of the building and sit next to black lake. All that you can do now is look at the sky and hope for the best. You even find yourself mumbling. "I hope he gets here before it starts to set."

A couple minutes later, you hear someone walk up behind you and stop next to you. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The person, you recognize it to be Neville, asks softly. He's looking at the sun which has only just begun to set. "I've always loved sunsets, they always make you think of where you are and where you're going." You think about how insightful that is as to who he is as a person. Then you remember why you came to love sunsets, you and Draco would watch them when you were small kids. "Yeah I love sunsets...they remind me there's beauty even in a world plagued by darkness. I think my brother and I really needed that growing up." You confess without giving anything away. "I wish more people appreciated them or at least simple things like it." Neville gives a soft and warm smile. "Yeah I agree. People take the small things for granted. The sunsets, the little moments in life. Those are the things that are most special in life. It helps remind you to live in the moment." You turn and look at him with a soft smile. You suddenly wonder if it'll break his heart to do what Draco said. You sigh at that thought you can't break his heart after everything your family, yourself included, has already done to him. You can just date him until the spark dies, right? But then again he never claimed to be in love with you. And of course your mind settles on Draco's plan. You plant a kiss on his cheek and resting your head on his shoulder A soft, comfortable silence hangs over the two.

For a second, you don't even realize that silence is coming from the fact he's surprised at the affectionate gesture. But by the time you're ready to move away and apologize for your actions, he's smiling back at you and hugging you close. You feel guilty that you're lying to him but you have to give him your name at some point. "My name is (Y/N/N)....(L/N)." You mutter. "A beautiful sunset, with a beautiful person. What more can you ask for?" He asks, kissing the top of your head. The guilt in your chest grows "You're so sweet if either us is a beautiful person. It's you. I have to admit something embarrassing. I spent my whole day thinking about meeting you here because cheering you up made me feel.... different. But then when the time finally came I thought you wouldn't show up. I'm glad you did." Your face turns red in embarrassment that you actually cared if you were stood up by a Gryffindor's running punchline. Neville smiles at you with a blush on his face. "I can't lie, I was kinda the same I was worried you might not show either. You're super nice, pretty, smart and funny. You could obviously spend time with anyone. Why me?" He responded.

At that moment there was only two questions you asked yourself. Neither question had an answer. "Do I feel bad for Neville Longbottom? Why would I?" You finally found your voice after a long pause and laughed slightly. "Well I'm here and I'm not disappointed. I'm enjoying the company and the sunset." But you didn't feel the need to respond to all the attributes Neville claimed you had. It would just be hurtful to lie about how nice you were or what kind of humor you had. But you did feel terrible everytime you made him laugh. "I'm definitely not complaining about your company." Was he flirting? That should be a good thing, right? But it just made you want to trip him in the halls because where's that confidence when he needs to stand up himself? How could he flirt with a stranger but not stand up against his bullies? However, you'd never tripped him before and you wouldn't start now. In fact, you usually just repeated whatever nonsense Draco said.... often feeling guilty for it. Unless it was The Golden Trio, you never felt guilty about making fun of them. But just for today, you'd laugh along with him. Which is how you found yourself laughing and looking at him in shock. "I don't believe you are the same boy who just this morning was crying because Professor Snape was being a grade A twat. You sound so confident." You laugh some more. Neville smiles softly. "He just makes me so upset because I feel like people are always against me. I've just always been dealing with people making fun of me and being rude to me so I guess I just had to get it out." He lets out a small sigh and gives you a hug. You feel guilty when he gives you another reminder of how terrible you are to him. But even still, you offer a smile. "I'll never be against you especially if you continue to be this sweet. I think people treat you unfairly because you're a little clumsy and a little awkward. But being perfect is overrated. You're perfect by being yourself." You tell him but it's just you paraphrasing something your mother once told you. You continue on paraphrasing your mother. "And remember people like Snape don't define your worth. You do." It's honestly good advice that when you were thirteen you didn't want to hear. Who wants to hear that they are treated unfairly because of their own flaws? And then to make it worse told that they were perfect with the flaws everyone hated? You still thought it sounded silly but knew Narcissa Malfoy was rarely wrong. "And honestly I think you're worth more than Snape's opinion or anyone else's opinion. What's your opinion of yourself? And don't go with the easiest answer." You add with a bit of curiosity. Neville thinks deep about your question. He looks down at his shoes for a moment. He sighs. "Honestly, I don't have the best opinion of myself. People have always picked on me and put me down and I've gotten to the point where I just agree with their opinions of me. I know I should change that but it's hard sometimes. Do you really think I'm perfect by being myself?"

You mull over how to answer such a loaded question. No one was perfect. You knew that so the answer was no. But your Godfather, truth be told, terrified you. Maybe not as much as he scared Neville but certainly he did. You lived in a constant fear that the smallest slip up would mean direct owl to your parents and your fear of letting them down was all too real. So you decided maybe you should share another little piece of yourself with Neville. "Honestly, what I think is if the roles were reversed and I bumped into you this morning after being bullied by Snape I would have cried. Just bumping into you would have broke me. I wouldn't have held in whatever I was feeling in order to check if you were okay. But you checked on me, multiple times, before you let your own feelings out. Which makes you stronger and probably braver than I'll ever be." Neville's eyes light up, "I just always try to be kind to other people or at least not rude like some other people I know." His words stab you in the chest but he doesn't seem to notice as continues. "It's just a part of who I am, I guess." He looks back up at the sky. You seem to find yourself wanting to stay this pretend version of yourself and look at the sunset as well. "I hope this sunset never ends. You know....we could stay up just a little bit past curfew. It will be okay as long as no prefects or teachers catch us sneaking back in..." Neville's eyes light up with fear. "Are you sure that's not against the rules?" He asks with a his entire demeanor changing. You laugh a little. "Oh it's most definitely against the rules." You say; your eyes dancing with amusement at his fearful demeanor. Your Slytherin roots definitely showing as you continued. "But that doesn't mean it isn't worth the risk." You add but frown when you see he doesn't seem up for it. You decide to fix your mistake. "Well...maybe we shouldn't stay out too late. We still do have classes tomorrow. I don't want you falling asleep in Professor Snape's class and getting in trouble." He gets up and offers you a hand to help you up. "Just for that last comment, you get the honor of holding my hand while we walk back." He smiles sweetly at you. You feel something in you become disappointed as the last few minutes of the sunlight disappear behind the trees. You take his hand in yours as you get up. "Well then I'm honored to hold your hand. It's sad the sunset couldn't last forever." His hand feels is soft and warm; almost familiar. You also notice his hand is a little clammy, it seems he might be a little nervous. "Do you think we'd be able to be able to have a long term friendship?" You nervously bite your lip at your own question. His face grows into a huge smile and he looks you in the eyes. "Are you kidding me me? Of course!" He says, his voice being slightly shaky and quiet. He smiles nervously but he's obviously happy. You smile nervously, because of your very Slytherin secret, in return even though your tone of voice is happy. "I'm happy it's a yes. I don't know what I would have said if it was a no." He gives a soft laugh "Well, as long as you said something it'd be okay because it'd mean you're talking to me, which is something I would like." He says softly. "But let's not worry about that now. I feel like this is the start of great friendship."

Friends with Neville Longbottom....how bizarre... You sigh happily "Well, I guess you're ready to hear that I'm never comfortable with people so it's really weird and embarrassing for me to feel like I trust you." He frowns as you speak but by the end of your confession, he smiles. "I trust you, too. I mean, I can't believe I'm saying this. The most beautiful girl in Gryffindor wants to be my friend and now she says she feels comfortable around me? My jaw is literally on the floor." He laughs and the fact you're not actually a Gryffindor burns in your throat. "Only most beautiful in Gryffindor, huh? Who's the most beautiful in the school then? I'm not jealous, just curious." You raise your eyebrow. His eyes go wide at your question and he stammers in response. "How can there be someone more beautiful then you? That's impossible. It's you, it's you without a doubt." He blushes when he realizes he's rambling. "You're just... perfect." He whispers and you laugh a little at him. "I'm not perfect and I actually find enjoyment in knowing I'm not perfect." You notice that the two of suddenly fall into a rather comfortable silence as you walk back to the castle. You don't even mind when you two stop in the greenhouse so Neville could go in the greenhouse and check on a few plants he'd been helping Sprout maintain. Your mind is waterlogged with thoughts of how you can possibly approach him as yourself now...and the answer is you can't. You can't even bully him anymore. You'd made a promise that you would never be against him.

You don't even realize as the portrait of The Fat Lady opens. You've just been trying your best to ignore getting caught by Flinch or a prefect. You suppose it'd be terrible if a professor caught you but you knew that you weren't yourself so who would go to your detention? You actually weren't too stressed about a prefect either; unless it was Draco. Draco knew you'd been with Neville. But the other prefects would just take the points from Gryffindor. You feel the overwhelming need to say something. "Maybe I will see in classes tomorrow. I don't really know your class schedule." You squeeze his hand gently as a goodbye. He nods as he listens to you. "That would be awesome! If we have classes together, I'll be sure to say hello." You in a silent confirmation of the plans that can never come to pass. You feel happy that he enjoys your company but you know he'd feel different if he knew who you are. You look around the Gryffindor common room with mild interest. After a moment, you cringe at red that surrounds you and the window that looks out to the sky. It's too home-y. You're used to the home that is the Slytherin common room. You love green aesthetic and the desolate lake that you stare out into through the windows. "Wow...we made it back to the common room already." You mutter but it's more out of distaste than wonder. He nods. "Yeah, we did get back pretty fast. Do you wanna head on up the stairs or would you like to spend more time just talking a bit?" He tilts his head as he says it. You're anxious to get out of the Gryffindor common room. "We both should get to bed. It's getting late. I'll see you in the morning." He nods and then whispers. "Yeah, I'll see you in the morning." As soon as he's up the stairs and on his way to his dorm, you rush out of that godforsaken common room. Thankful everything can go back to normal. "Okay now I just have to make it back to the Slytherin common room without being caught..." You mumble with a little sigh. But even as you reversed the color changing charm, you knew things would never be normal. You wanted to be Y/N/N L/N because she could keep promises that Y/N Malfoy couldn't....

[itstopplingdomino]

tolerance | react drabble pt. 2

pairing: hermione granger x gn!reader (Can be read as platonic and/or romantic sense) summary: how would certain Harry Potter characters react when they find out you are injured but doesn't seem so from the outside...

tags: mentions/details of injuries (blood, cuts, etc..), implied physical abuse, generally fluffs, no use of y/n (usage of you/nicknames instead), gender-neutral reader, no-war alternate universe.

other parts : part 1 (harry potter x reader), ron weasley x reader, draco malfoy x reader, fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⟢ Hermione Granger ⟢

To say you are academic rivals with Granger is an overstatement. Sure, the two of you are often toe-to-toe for the highest grade in all the classes you shared together but the two of you aren't exactly competing with each other. No, you are not studying together either.

Merlin, the extent of your exchange with her are within the vicinity of a classroom. In other words, you are not friends with her; simply a classmate.

However, it seems that everyone else sees it differently - to them, you two are friends.

And that's affecting the current status of your relationship with her.

Instead of the usual nod, Granger started to actually greet you whenever she passes by you in the hallways. Other times she'd even wave with a big smile.

It's weird, this sudden change though you accept it nonetheless.

So when she choose to sit next to you in History of Magic one random afternoon, you didn't mind it.

Despite teaching the subject for hundreds of years, Professor Binns has no desire to make the class interesting. Students are failing to stay focused, a few just straight up sleeping or have a full on conversation, and you... well, you are distracted for an entirely different reason.

Your wrist hurts.

A single glance, you are sure it's actually swelling. A second glance, you could see it's turning purple.

An unfortunate accident involving hyperactive third years who were throwing jinxes at each other in which a stray leg-locking jinx hit you had occurred just an hour ago.

The jinx didn't cause the swelling. You suspect the impact from falling on the hard ground where your hand twisted in the way it shouldn't is the primary reason for the swelling now. It didn't hurt as much at first, just a little sore paired with an off feeling when you bend it. Nothing that warrants immediate care, at least for you it isn't urgent-

"My goodness, are you alright?" Hermione spoke, cutting your train of thoughts.

You offer her a stiff nod and a vague explanation of what happened.

She looks around at first, focusing a few moments more on Binns as he float through the student at the back. She turns back to you, a wand ready at hand and whisper a quick spell with a flick of foreign movements. Clearly a spell above your year.

The strange feeling starts to decrease considerably, you look at your wrist and see that the swell reduced to a simple - almost unnoticeable - bump, and the colour returns to your normal skin tone.

"I'm sorry it's not perfect yet." She says. "I'm still practicing it but one only could practice so much when injury does not come by often."

When you suggest helping out in the Hospital Wing to her, she shrugs saying that healer career isn't what she aims at the moment - only increasing her spells arsenal.

Interesting, you think. But before you could follow up, Professor Binns returns to the front, still droning about the International Confederation of Wizards.

Well, to say you are academic rivals with Granger is an overstatement... but maybe, just maybe, becoming a friend is the first step.

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 14: Valentine’s Day

Fandom: Harry Potter (Hogwarts years 1-7) Pairing: Draco x OFC

taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​ @arrthurpendragon​​ @anotherunreadblog​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​ @stareyedplanet​​ @foxesandmagic​​

Story Masterlist // Romina’s Masterlist

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

When school began, everyone noticed Hermione Granger's absence in classes. It was blatantly obvious considering she was always the first one in class. Rumors of what could have happened to her were quick to arise, but since she was still moving and talking within the nightwing, students had to rule out the Heir of Slytherin had struck again. Romina, Harry and Ron were just grateful Hermione's cat-like appearance wouldn't be permanent. It was quite a sight seeing their friend turned half cat thanks to the mix up with the polyjuice potion. Romina felt monumentally guilty for never mentioning Millicent had a cat. Maybe that could have spared Hermione from the tail.

In the night wing, Hermione accepted the new pile of books each friend brought her. She was doing her best to keep up with every class and the respective assignments.

"Madam Pince asked that we relay a message to you, Hermione," Ron grumbled as he rubbed his wrists after setting down his portion of the book piles, "She'd appreciate it if you'd leave a few books for the rest of the school."

Hermione rolled her eyes and passed another page of her Transfiguration book. "I've got to keep up, haven't I?"

"Honestly, at the rate you're going, I think you're weeks ahead of us," Romina scratched her head. Her eyes swept over the mountain of books on the bed. "Maybe several years."

Ron spotted Hermione's tail twitching from behind. "Is that thing ever going away?"

"Any day now, according to Madam Pomfrey. I'm just thankful I've stopped coughing up fur balls. Now. What about the Chamber of Secrets? Any new leads?"

"Nothing," Harry bitterly responded. They hit a dead end after getting nothing from Draco.

"And has it gotten any better? I mean... is anyone speaking to you?"

"Neville asked to borrow a tubeworm in Potions yesterday. I suppose that's something."

Ron had spotted something poking from Hermione's pillow and pulled it out. It turned out to be a get well card from Lockhart. "To Miss Granger. Wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher Gilderoy Lockhart.'" Ron made a gagging motion. "You sleep with this under your pillow?"

Hermione flushed a deep read and snatched it from him. "Of course not. I don't know how that got there. Now go. I still have six hundred pages to read in Transformation Through the Ages."

"C'mon, boys," Romina smirked at Hermione as she pulled the two boys out of the room.

"I know Hermione's mental, but can you believe she falls for that smarmy nonsense of Lockhart's?" Ron was still complaining even as they headed for the staircase.

"He's her celebrity crush, Ron," Romina shrugged. "We're all fools for one person in this world of higher ranks."

"Yeah, and who's yours?" Ron inquired curiously.

Romina would have answered had it not been from the splash she heard below. There was yet another flood overtaking the hallway and it wasn't long before they listened to Myrtle's moaning from her bathroom.

"Looks like Myrtle's flooded the bathroom," Harry crinkled his nose. He turned for the bathroom and led the other two in.

When they entered the restroom, they saw all the taps were running and streaming down water like there was no tomorrow. Myrtle's moans filled the room but stopped the moment she heard them coming in.

"Come to throw something else at me?" she asked in a childish, squeaky voice.

"Why would we do that?" Romina made a face.

"Don't ask me. Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…" Myrtle raised a hand to her head.

"But it can't hurt if someone throws something at you. I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?" Ron cluelessly asked.

Myrtle was outraged and offended. "Oh sure! Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach. Fifty points if it goes through her head!"

Romina elbowed Ron in the ribs, muttering, "Way to go."

Harry tried to cut in before Myrtle entered another screaming fit. "Who threw it at you anyway?"

"I don't know. I didn't see them. I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death and it fell through the top of my head."

Harry looked around the girl and noticed a small, black book lying on the ground.

"Fifty points if you can get it through her nose," Ron had the genius idea to say.

"I HEARD THAT!" Myrtle lost it and screamed at them.

Terrified, the three students ran out of the room as fast as they could.

"Way to go, Ron!" Romina smacked the ginger upside the head.

Harry looked the book over, much more calm than the other two. "This is a diary. And it's old…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "It's a diary, it's old... and was most recently in a toilet, Harry." Harry didn't seem to mind since he was opening the book. "Are you mad? That could be cursed. Dad once told me about a book the Ministry confiscated that burned the eyes out of anyone who tried to read it."

"I'll take my chances…" Harry said, and Romina swore she saw a hint of mischief in his eyes.

As soon as he opened it, Harry cried out. "MY EYES! MY EYES!"

Ron gasped, completely terrified but Romina bit her lip to not laugh. Harry stopped to flash a smile at his ginger friend, almost to the point of laughing. He caught Ginny, however, at the end of the corridor, looking terrified.

"Ginny!" Harry called but the girl had ran off so fast it was impossible to catch her. "I was only joking — brilliant. Even your sister thinks I'm the monster now."

"Who doesn't by now, honestly?" Romina took the diary from him and read the name on the first page. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. That's such a weird name."

Ron snorted. "This coming from Romina Aline Oswell." He received a punch in the arm. "Listen Ronald, you don't want to play a game you'll lose at."

Ron rubbed his arm and glumly looked down at the book for a moment. His eyes widened after a couple of seconds. "Tom Marvolo Riddle? Hang on. I know that name. The night I had detention...my job was to polish the silver in the trophy room. I remember because I kept burping slugs all over Tom Riddle's trophy. I must have wiped slime off his name for an hour."

Romina passed pages and pages, a frown quickly making its way across her face. "Well, there is nothing here. It's empty."

Harry snatched the book to see for himself. "That's odd. He never wrote in it?"

"Who's this guy anyways?" Romina glanced at Ron for a better understanding.

Ron gave a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know. I just know he won the award like fifty years ago. Least that's the date on the trophy."

Deciding it was better to see Hermione again to consult with her over the book, the three headed back to the night wing. Of course Hermione was still deep in her transfiguration book.

"You said fifty years ago?" Hermione asked from Ron, now skimming the book herself. "Don't you remember what Malfoy told you? The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened was—"

"Fifty years ago!" Harry soon remembered. "That means—"

"Tom Riddle was here, at Hogwarts, when it happened," Hermione confirmed. "What if he wrote about what he saw? It's possible he knew where the Chamber was, how to open it, even what sort of creature lives in it. If so, whoever's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want a diary like this lying around, would they?"

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione. With just one tiny little flaw," Ron tapped the empty diary in her hands. "There's nothing written in this diary."

"I was thinking it could be invisible ink but I was wrong," Romina sadly said.

"Well...I think we should definitely be careful with this," Hermione gave the diary back to Harry. "Something tells me Ron might be right. It could be dangerous."

"You don't think I'm dangerous, do you, Hermione?" Harry genuinely asked. "I mean, you're not scared. Of me."

"Harry, we're afraid, but not of you."

~0~

Weeks flew by and since there hadn't been any more attacks from the Chamber's beast, things sort of simmered down in terms of rumors. People still hardly talked to Harry more than they had to, but it was a start that rumors were quieting down. Still, many people were taking precautions and being extra quiet. One wrong word or move and the beast could be unleashed on them.

In Lockhart's mind, this called for his 'help'. The fourteenth of February saw the grand master plan of his to help the students. It all started with the Great Hall…

"What the hell…?" Arden took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the pink decorated room. Pink flowers covered the four walls and from the ceiling fell heart-shaped confetti.

Even Romina was taken aback by the sight. The two girls were mesmerized by the hall that they slowly slipped in and walked to their designated table without even noticing.

"Isn't it sweet?" Carolinha asked with a dreamy sigh once the girls joined them for breakfast. "I hope they do this every year."

A couple seats down they all heard Angel's loud snort. "If that happens, make sure to kill me." Beside him, even Draco was looking horrified as he peeked into his goblet that held a pile of confetti. Blaise and Theodore looked no better.

"It's safe to say Lockhart is behind this," Romina said once she caught sight of the blonde wizard in ludicrous pink robes.

"I don't know if I like it or I want to throw this confetti-covered oatmeal at his head," Arden muttered.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart began the daily announcements. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!"

"Alright," Angel shot a look to every girl around him, "Which ones of you did it?"

"Oh you're just mad cos you haven't gotten any card," Carolinha shushed him and continued listening to Lockhart.

"Yes, Carol, thank you for your confession," Angel shook his head and said something about disowning her.

Their attention was taken by the surly-looking dwarfs matching into the place. They were all donning the traditional Cupid golden wings and harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Lockhart declared happily. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

"How ridiculous," Arden declared once they were allowed to continue eating.

"King is the first to make sense, that's a sight to see," Draco gave her an odd look, just to make sure it had been her who said it and not someone else.

"I don't know, it sounds kinda fun…" Romina shrugged and reached for a piece of toast. She had to dust it off to get rid of the confetti.

"It is!" Carolinha agreed with a smile. "I'll send one!"

"To who?" Pansy curiously leaned forwards to catch sight of her.

"None of your business," Carolinha blushed. It was clear she had a person in mind.

"You're all ridiculous," Blaise concluded and began to eat.

"Oh c'mon, just because no one will send you a card doesn't mean it'll be the same story for everyone else," Romina shot him a smirk. "If you'd like, I'll send you one."

That was enough to put Blaise on high alert. "You do that and I'll kill you!"

Romina burst into laughter.

"I mean it! I'll kill you!"

Romina twirled her fork in the air, pretending to write the card for him. "Dear Blaise, I think it's so lovely when you nearly self-combust each time I annoy you…"

Blause pulled out his wand but, much to his shock, Draco pushed it down. The blonde was busy laughing with Angel and Theo to notice Blaise's murderous looks.

"You'll regret that, Oswell," Blause got up and stormed off.

"Counting on it," Romina finally dug into her breakfast to eat, though with her laughter it was a bit tricky.

~0~

The day passed slowly but surely interestingly. There were thousands of interruptions in each class from Lockhart's cupids handing out Valentine cards. It had been exceptionally funny for Romina to see Arden receiving one from a mysterious sender. Although, Romina was sure it had been Pansy who sent it as a joke since Arden fumed for the rest of the day about her "biggest embarrassment ever!". Romina had to give Pansy her proper points for that one.

Carolinha wouldn't tell anyone who had been her mysterious sendee but assured that she had indeed sent a card to someone anonymously. Romina was sure Hermione sent Lockhart a card but the brunette refused to admit it.

"Your face is red, Hermione. You suck at lying about these things," Romina laughed as they walked down the hallway for Charms. Her laughter was short-lived when a dwarf called out for Harry and, just to get to the boy, elbowed Romina in the ribs. "Ah!" she fell into Hermione.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Hermione helped Romina stand straight again.

"Looks like Harry's about to get a card…" Romina smirked then hurried with Hermione to see the spectacle.

It appeared Harry was trying to flee from the site, failing miserably as the dwarf turned out to be way stronger. His backpack fell from his arm and dumped all of his belongings onto the floor in the process.

"I don't think this could get any worse," Hermione leaned on her hip, sighing at their friend who seemed to be walking thin on the lucky department.

"What's going on here?" Draco pushed past several of the first years in the way.

"You just had to say that didn't you?" Romina shot Hermione a mock accusing glance to which the brunette meekly shrugged.

The dwarf paid no attention to Percy Weasley trying to get everyone to move and began to sing Harry's valentine message.

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Despite knowing how badly Harry must be feeling, Romina and Hermione snickered behind their hands. The message was too funny to ignore.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now!" Percy ushered the students, though some of them were laughing so hard it was impossible to move in that moment.

"Oh no, Romina, look," Hermione pointed Romina to the black diary that Draco was now picking up from the ground. "If he gets a look…"

"It's empty," Romina reminded her calmly. "Even if he wanted to make fun of Harry - which at this point I find completely pointless - he wouldn't get anything out of it."

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" Draco let Crabbe and Goyle see over his shoulder to the diary he'd yet to even open.

Harry balled a fist on his side and quietly asked for the book back.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," Percy held a hand for the book.

"When I've had a look," Draco promised, waving the book in the air.

"As a school prefect—"

Harry had no patience to hear another perfect lecture. Using his wand, he yelled 'Expelliarmus!" and re-acquired the diary in a snap.

"Harry!" Percy turned to the boy. "No magic in the corridors! I'll have to report this, you know—" But Harry bolted from the scene without looking back.

Draco was furious and because he couldn't let the score go unevenly, he called to Harry one last time with, "Hey Weasley," he looked at Ginny, the girl so terrified she was pale, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny whimpered and dashed into her class, presumably.

"We should go too," Hermione shook her head at the scene. "We'll be late for class."

"Believe me, after this there won't be much paying attention in Charms," Romina muttered as they continued on their way.

The day passed with many more interesting sights of people receiving cards in the middle of classes, hallways, courtyards, even lunch! Romina used a free period to look more into the possibilities of the empty diary in Harry's possession. She figured there had to be something in that damn book but because of their lack of knowledge, it was staying a secret. She was just coming out of the library with a 'Vanishing Ink' 101 book in her arms when a dwarf stopped her.

"Oh no, you are not singing anything to me," she warned him with a wagging finger. "I have a book and I will use it on your head."

"It's a card, sweetheart," the dwarf replied in a sourly tone. He pushed the red card into her hand then went on his way.

"So much for the Valentine spirit," she rolled her eyes and continued walking. It was indeed a card but it was full of mushy compliments that at times she laughed.

She brought the letter over to dinner, still laughing when she sat down in her usual spot. "Alright, you know what, I'll give Zabini props for his attempt of revenge but he shouldn't have given me such mushy compliments."

"What are you talking about, Oswell?" Draco stopped eating for a second. "Blaise up in the night wing." And yet he didn't look very concerned.

"You got a card!" Carolinha reached over the table and snatched the letter from Romina's hands to read it herself. Even Pansy leaned over her shoulder to get a glimpse. "Aw, how romantic!"

"It's stupid," Romina laughed again. "Honestly, I don't know if Blaise was aiming to embarrass me or make me think I have a secret admirer. Either way, he loses."

"Oswell, I am telling you it wasn't Zabini," Draco reiterated, "He got sick. He couldn't talk, much less write. It wasn't him."

"But if it wasn't him...then who was it?" Romina now made a face and took the card back from Carolinha, re-reading the words. Her face suddenly went warm now that she knew the compliments were very much real.

Arden and Angel joined them a moment later and as Arden was sitting down beside Romina, she noticed the Valentine card. "Oh God, not another one!" Pansy snickered under her breath.

"Who's it from?" Angel asked as he began to put food on his plate.

"I don't know but whoever it was...has some good writing, I guess," Romina shrugged and put the card down beside her plate. "But low move not writing their name. I'm not much for secret admirers."

And she wouldn't dwell on the secret writer. Earlier that day, Ron received one too, but it was soon found out to be a joke from Fred and George who now wouldn't stop teasing him over it. Just because it wasn't from Blaise didn't mean Romina's letter wasn't a joke from someone else.

~ 0 ~

The next day, Harry would come to his friends with astounding news of the Chamber. He told them how he had spoken to some sort of version of Tom Riddle and how he had been sucked into the past - literally - and allowed to see for himself who had opened the Chamber fifty years ago.

"It can't be Hagrid. It just can't be," Hermione couldn't finish processing what she hears.

"Honestly, that idea is just as laughable as when you thought Draco was the Heir," Romina waved her hand at them.

Even Ron agreed with them there. "We don't even know this Riddle. He sounds like a dirty, rotten snitch to me."

"The monster had killed someone, Ron. What would any of us done?" Harry asked the three.

"Look," Hermione stopped in the middle of the courtyard. "Hagrid's our friend. Why don't we just go ask him about it?"

"Hermione I can't believe you just asked that," Romina was flatly staring at her. "You really think just asking Hagrid straight up if he's been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately would be a conversation topic?"

"Mad an' hairy?" Hagrid's voice startled them all. "Wouldn' be talkin' 'bou me, now would yeh?"

"No!" went the students in the next second.

"What's that you've got, Hagrid?" Romina asked once she eyed the canister in his hand. They needed a quick subject changer and she was great at those.

"Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent. Fer the Mandrakes, yeh know. Accordin' ter Professor Sprout, they still got a bit o' growin' up ter do, but once their acne clears up, we'll be able to chop 'em up, stew 'em, an' get those people in the hospital un-Petrified. 'Til then, you four best watch yerselves, all righ'?"

"Go ahead Hermione, ask him," Romina spoke after Hagrid had gone. Hermione shot her a look, understanding this hadn't been her best idea.

"Harry! Harry!" Neville came running towards them out of breath. "Harry, I don't know who did it, but... you'd better come."

"Come where?" Harry asked, confused, yet a tiny gut in his feeling told him it would be better to stay right there lest he want to be blamed for a new attack.

"To our room! Someone's gone through your stuff - they ransacked it!"

"You should go," Romina motioned the Gryffindors, getting a feeling of what could possibly have led someone to do that sort of thing. "Tell me afterwards at dinner."

With nods, the Gryffindors left with Neville. Two hours later, Romina would come to learn that Tom Riddle's diary had been stolen from Harry.

[peach-thekid]

(18+ | OCxOC | MxF/MxM) BE MY RP PARTNER OR ELSE >:(

its-a me, talia! 🖤 apologies in advance for the long post but i'm a writer, so i talk a lot. right now, i'm making a resurgence in the world of creative writing AKA roleplaying and pretending that makes up for my lack of inspo for my own novel ideas ✌️

with that newfound desire for more involvement comes the sad realization that i am in dire lack of long term rp partners. so... here i am i *pathetic loser shrug*

anyways, who am i?

age: 24

pronouns: she/her

timezone: EST

ok obligatory about me section time. i'm a trophy wife who has been doing creative writing since i learned the alphabet. my husband is navy and so its always an adventure. i have a bachelors degree in communications and have lots of experience with nonprofits and marketing! i have a doggo and 2 lovely sphynx cats and i am currently in a musical for the month of august! i am a huge nerd and although i have a lot of life changes coming up, i am hoping to balance out that stress with some awesome writing friends and stories! i'm mentally ill but who isnt and i'm an introverted extrovert, i would say.

what does writing with me look like?

first off, if you aren't open to OOC chatter then i'm probably not for you. i'm sure you're awesome but i am a very loving and excitable person who will want to fangirl and share inspo and get to you know as a buddy! the best part of writing collaboratively is the collaboration part for me so i love to plot, headcanon, and overall just go back and forth! 

reply speed: multiple a day/one a day/multiple a week (AKA it all depends)

average post length: semi-literate to novella, anywhere from 2-5+ paragraphs per post, scene-dependent but the more the better!

writing wise, i write third person, past tense and i'm mostly looking for m/m and m/f pairings. i love tropes and angst and drama. romance is a must but i also love adventure and building a fantastic story! i don't write characters that are labeled 'top/bottom' or anything like that, i much prefer to create charas for the story and explore all kinds of connections! i use realistic FCs or realistic art FCs in specific settings

genre-wise, i write slice of life/realistic, supernatural (vampires & werewolves), horror/thriller (think It or Stranger Things vibes), historical fiction, apocalypse/dystopia, sci-fi, and fantasy can be discussed as well but it's my least faves!

fandom-wise, i will write OCs in a fandom universe (unless its ron weasley, i will canon ron for you pshhhh). fandoms i know enough to write in would be harry potter, stranger things, it/stephen king, lord of the rings, maze runner, hunger games... yeah. that might be it? idk. you can always ask

triggers: i don't have many, but i try to avoid writing as/against furry, non-humanoid characters, ERP, non-cis characters (i don't have experience to respectfully write this), doubling, and poly relationships

kinks/limits: i prefer NSFW to only really take up 30% or less of a story, but i'm not against smut. i am fine to keep things vanilla or talk about preferences in DMs! i'm also fine to FTB. the most important thing is the story and characters to me

final thoughts

here is my writing sample and i'd loooove if you reach out and share one as well!

i am 👻 ghost-friendly 👻 but don't prefer it so i hope we can find a great story to connect on and write together! 

i write over discord and/or google docs. please send a message over discord and i can accept it if my DMs are still open!

discord: muppetmayqueen

feel free to reach out with an introduction on who you are and what made you reach out! i'll try to get back to you as soon as i can if we'd be a good fit! <3

[just-a-smut-slut]

The Neighborhood

Chapter Twelve

Hermione loaded herself into the train. She walked down the passage until she found the compartment with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She knocked on the door and entered when Harry waved his hand for her to come in. She sat next to Ron.

“How was your holiday, Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“Great,” she said. She turned and glanced at Ron. “How was yours?”

Ron faked a smile and said, “It was good, thanks.”

They made more small talk and finally Hermione decided to pull out her book and read. It was a copy of Pride and Prejudice that she’d picked up at the bookstore when she was with Draco.

“What’re you reading?” Ron asked, trying his best to be genuinely interested.

Hermione glanced up, “Pride and Prejudice. It’s a Muggle book.” Ron nodded. Her comment put an end to the conversation. Another ten minutes passed of quiet until Harry smacked Ron’s knee and grumbled, “What’s Malfoy up to?”

Hermione looked up too quickly. Malfoy was passing their compartment. His eyes met hers and she jerked her gaze back down. Hermione glanced back up to see Ginny giving her a questioning glance. She looked back at where Malfoy had been and back to Hermione.

Hermione looked back down at her book and tried to look as casual as she could. Ron and Harry fell asleep, Ron snoring loudly.

Hermione excused herself to go to the bathroom but Ginny got up with her. “I’ll go too,” she said. When they were alone in the hallway, Ginny tugged at Hermione’s sleeve and rasped, “What did I just witness? Tell me I’m wrong.”

Hermione shook Ginny’s grip off of her. “Ginny, there’s really nothing to tell you.” Ginny followed behind Hermione as she walked on.

“I need you to tell me that it wasn’t Malfoy who I heard you with in the bathroom. Please tell me you two aren’t fucking. That you chose him over Ron.” Ginny continued on.

Hermione could feel tears of anger well in her eyes. “Ginny, there’s nothing to tell about anything.”

“I thought we were friends,” Ginny shot at her.

Hermione turned around. “Don’t make me talk about this, Ginny. We’re friends. We’re best friends. But I can’t have this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” Ginny grimaced.

“Because you wouldn’t understand,” Hermione said exasperated.

“Try me,” Ginny challenged.

Hermione groaned and pulled Ginny into an empty compartment, pulling down the blinds. Ginny sat with expectation.

Hermione sighed and fell into the seat across from her.

“I was with Malfoy,” she admitted.

Ginny’s face grew as red as her hair. Hermione didn’t know if it was out of anger or embarrassment.

“Why?” Ginny asked. Hermione was surprised that that was the first thing Ginny asked.

Hermione put her head in her hands. “Ginny. I tried. I tried not to- not to feel anything. I tried to make it work with Ron. I wanted to make it work.” She sat up and reached across to hold Ginny’s hand. “I promise I did. I wanted to be your family. I wanted to be part of what you all have. But, Ron deserves better than what I could give him. I know it’s messed up.”

“You’re right about that,” Ginny leaned back, pulling her hand away from Hermione. “I don’t get it, Hermione. He’s always been a contentious prick to us.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “I know that. He’s different now.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh, please Hermione. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I am! Ginny,” Hermione pleaded. “Over the holiday, Draco visited with me and my parents.”

Ginny sat back up, shocked. “You’re joking?”

Hermione shook her head. “Really. We met in Diagon Alley and then went into London. We had coffee and went shopping and ate with my parents. They like him.”

“Well,” Ginny shrugged. “What’re you two going to do now? Your parents may accept him, but the Malfoys won’t be as welcoming. Are you going to be official?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said honestly. “Ginny, this is a secret. Please don’t say anything to anyone, especially Harry and Ron. They wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ginny said. “If Ron knew that the other guy you’d been with was Malfoy, if he knew that you had been with him while Ron was sort of with you, he’d probably kill Malfoy for real this time.”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. “I know.”

“Hermione,” Ginny grew serious, “as a friend, please be careful. Really think this through. If you take up with Malfoy, your life will be miserable. I just don’t see him giving up his family and wealth and power for you. He’s a Slytherin.”

“I know,” was all Hermione could say. “Thank you for listening.”

Ginny shrugged. “You’re one of my best friends. I can think you’re an idiot and still care for you. So, tell me,” Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Was he good?”

Hermione groaned. “I’ve not slept with him, Ginny.”

“What was all that in the bathroom, then?” Ginny raised her hands in exasperation. Ginny seemed to put two and two together. “I see. You’re telling me that you did sexual favors for Malfoy, but didn’t get any for yourself?”

Hermione turned scarlet. “Ginny, please…”

Ginny lifted her hands in surrender. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”

They talked for a couple more minutes and then returned to the other compartment with Ron and Harry. The boys had woken up and were eating snacks from the trolley. Ron offered Hermione a licorice wand. She took it in thanks.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Birthday Shana!

Can I please request more twi wizard Draco??? Please!

set in the same universe as this and a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

The Black house is a mess.

The living areas and their bedrooms are in decent shape, but the house is huge and sprawling and has been abandoned for over twenty years.

"I was going to get around to it," Sirius sighs, "but if it's not all in perfect shape when Narcissa arrives, she'll bully me into letting her help."

"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asks, looking at room with a layer of dust so thick that is seems improbable that it's only been untouched for two decades. "This was her home too. Maybe she'll like it. And it's not like she can blame you for not upkeeping it when you were in prison."

"She could and will," Sirius says, but he looks contemplative.

Three days later Narcissa arrives looking dressed for war, which is alarming considering he's seen her kill a man while wearing high heels. Draco waves at him from his place next to her. He's wearing the basic black training clothes they wear for quidditch practice and he has is hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail.

"Hello, Harry dear, how are you?" Narcissa asks, patting his shoulder while peering around the corner.

She doesn't wait for an answer before marching down the hall, calling out for Sirius.

"Hi," he says to Draco, blinking.

"Hi," Draco returns. "Mum says the rugs and curtains have to all be taken out and either beat or burned depending on how ugly they are. Should we start there?"

He wishes Ron were here because he's never going to believe him. "I didn't think you'd be okay with doing this sort of thing."

Draco gives him a withering look. "If you hire help to do something that you don't know how to do it's because you're incompetent. If you hire help to do something you don't have the time, energy, or inclination to do, it's because you're important."

"I don't think that's accurate," Harry says. "How would someone even know the difference?"

"If someone you want to impress and embarrass comes over, you talk about how you hand polished the silver just for the, and then when you go over to their house for dinner you hold up your fork and then thank them for inviting you over and promise to send your best polishing clothes as a thank you. They then either have to admit they didn't polish the silver by hand for you or just accept the insult that they did it by hand and they didn't even do it well."

That's insane. "What if there's not a spot on the fork for you to notice?"

"It doesn't matter. It'd be rude for the host to insist on seeing the fork to inspect it," Draco shrugs.

Right, that'd be the rude part. "Okay. Lets' get started in the east wing, I guess."

[startanewdream]

For the @hinnyfest, prompt #6: "You are speaking about my future wife/husband. Be more respectful"

(Or this is a weird Weasley mess, don't mind it)

***

"Are we gonna tell them now?" Harry asked as they walked the path to the Burrow, following the enchanted lights that one of her brothrts had charmed to indicate the way to Ginny's birthday party.

"Not yet. After I blow out the candles."

Harry glanced at her. "Cold feet, Weasley?" He teased.

"I am just looking for the moment with the most impact," answered Ginny easily. "And you better keep calling me Weasley while you can."

"Weasley," he repeated in a purr, pulling her closer. Ginny grinned as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, Weasley."

"I love you, Potter," she said against his lips, and then they were kissing, fireflies around them, the night warm and promising–

"Hey, hey!" Ron's voice broke them apart. He had his hands covering his eyes. "No snogging on the party's premise!"

"I thought it was my birthday–why can't I snog whoever I want?"

"Because this is a family party," George answered, pulling Ron's hands away. "It’s safe to look now."

"I would keep his hands–because I plan to snog Harry a lot today."

"Mum!" George called loudly, though Mrs Weasley was far away. "Little Gin is planning to smooch Ickle Harry."

"A lot," added Ginny defiantly. Harry held back a laugh.

"Come on, Ginny, they don’t need to know."

"Know what?" Asked Mr Weasley, bringing a set of chairs outside.

"Ginny wants to snog Harry," said George earnestly, ignoring Ginny's glare.

Mr Weasley coughed, pulling out his glasses to clean them. "Well, they are boyfriend and girlfriend…"

"Thanks, Dad." Ginny beamed at him. "Now–"

"How is that you always get away with it?" Asked Ron, almost amused.

"Because I am the favourite daughter, of course." 

"Pst." George chuckled. "It’s not Ginny, it’s Harry. Mum and Dad don’t think Harry can do anything wrong."

"This is Harry we are talking about, right? No offense, mate, but you don’t have a perfect record."

Harry shrugged.

"And it is a full record," Percy added good-naturedly, joining them. "Have you seen your file at the Ministry?"

Harry grunted; his file could easily fill up seven history books if one where to tell them, which he hoped never happened.

"A file?" Asked Bill curiously, passing by with a basket of flowers. “Care to share?”

“Just read Skeeter,” suggested Charlie, smirking at them. “What's now, Harry Potter: Chosen or Lucky One?”

“I’d say he’s lucky and chosen,” Ginny said, eyes narrowed. “And I would stop pestering him—you are ruining my night.”

“Exactly, it’s your birthday, we can mess with Harry,” said George reasonably.

“I would say getting all my brothers bat-bogey hexed would ruin the party.”

“Er—” Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Maybe we can just have a laugh—”

“Not at your expense.”

“According to Skeeter, Harry has faced worse than us,” Charlie teased.

“I can vouch for that,” added Ron. “Acromantulas—”

“How are spiders worse than a professor with two heads?”

“We once threw a snowball at Voldie’s head,” George said, a nostalgic glint on his eyes. “Oh, if we knew back then…”

“How many professors have tried to kill you?” Bill asked in a serious voice. “I lost count.”

“Are we considering Umbitch?”

“No, she just scarred him for life.”

“Got jealous of Voldie probably…”

“That’s it,” snapped Ginny, taking out her wand. “You should be more respectful—Harry’s life is not a scandal that you can just gossip like that—you are speaking about my future husband! He is part of the family and you will—what?” She blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry chuckled, clearly amused. “Hum… Ginny—”

Ron was the first to recover. “Husband?” He repeated, glancing from her to Harry. “Future husband? So you—”

“I proposed,” confirmed Harry, grinning broadly. “She accepted.”

“YES!” And then Ron was hugging them both, and his brothers were clapping; Ginny didn’t look like she was going to hex anyone for the moment.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Weasley asked distractedly. “How nice of you to be so happy with Ginny’s birthday.”

“Nah, she has a birthday every year,” George said genially, ignoring Ginny’s warning gaze. “But she only gets engaged once—at least, we hope so.”

“Engaged? Oh!”

"I am gonna hex you," whispered Ginny, even as she hugged her mother.

"It’s bad luck for a bride and a birthday girl to hex her brothers," he replied calmly, winking at her.

Harry laughed. "We will get back to them," he promised.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 166: Saudade

(Suadade: a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia that is supposedly characteristic of the Portuguese or Brazilian temperament.) cw? this is a little bit spooky at the end. It's going to need a part 2.

Harry had been sitting beside the hospital bed for so long that he'd gone deaf to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. He'd been here so long that he knew perfectly the charm that would turn his hospital chair into a cot, he knew each of the doctors and nurses by name, and he knew that if he asked nicely they would give him the razor and let him shave Draco's face.

It was okay most of them time.

Or at least he tried to tell himself that it was okay. Or that it would be. The hours since Draco had been hit by a stray curse had turned into days, days had turned into weeks, and before he knew it Harry had spent nearly two months at Draco's side.

In those seven and a half weeks, Draco hadn't moved a muscle; hadn't blinked, hadn't squeezed Harry's hand, hadn't done anything.

It bothered Harry, when he allowed himself to think of it, Draco being so still, being so quiet, it wasn't like him. He busied himself with all sorts of things, talking to Draco like at any moment the other man would open his mouth and talk back.

"Hi mate," Ron said from the doorway and Harry looked up from the book of Robert Frost poetry he'd been reading aloud.

"Hey," he said, levitating the bag of yarn and knitting supplies for the blanket he'd been working on off of the other chair so Ron would have a place to sit. "How are you?"

"I think the better question is how are you?" Ron replied.

"Oh, you know," Harry said, his fingers automatically reaching for Draco's, "We're here," he added with a shrug.

"Do you think-" Ron started before he broke off and looked away.

And Harry very much did not like that look or that tone of voice. "Do I think what?" he asked carefully.

"Dr. Miller said she'd come to talk with you about end-of-life measu-"

"We're not there," he interrupted.

(Read more below the cut)

"Right," Ron said, nodding slowly, "Only, she seemed to think-"

"We're not there yet," he growled.

Ron blinked at him and Harry could see the concern in his eyes but couldn't bring himself to accept it. "Mate, you haven't left the hospital in weeks."

"And?"

"You've got things outside of this, you know? A job, a home, family, a life."

"He is my life," Harry managed through the tears that were slicing his vocal cords to shreds and stinging the back of his eyes.

Ron took Harry's hand in his, "Your godchildren miss you. Hermione and I miss you," he added. "Work has been a nightmare without you-"

"I can't," he said. "Ron, don't you get it?" he asked desperately. "He is my life," he repeated. "He is my family. He is my home. I can't leave him. I can't-"

"Harry," he said, voice soft and sympathetic in a way that Harry couldn't stand, "Don't you think he's already left you? The odds-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about the odds!" Harry shouted. "Out," he said, angrily swiping at the tears on his cheeks. "Get out."

"Harry-"

"Get out," he repeated, loud enough that one of the nurses poked her head in.

"Everything alright, love?" she asked Harry.

He looked away, clenching Draco's hand in his.

"Perhaps you'd better go," she said gently to Ron.

Ron sighed, "I'm here when you're ready," he said, clasping Harry's shoulder for a moment.

And Harry burned with anger, with disbelief that Ron was so ready and willing to just let him die, to kill him for all intents and purposes. He didn't say a word as Ron left, just flicked a hand at the door to close it behind him.

"Draco," he whispered helplessly, clutching his hand in both of his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "I can't," he whispered through his tears, begged really. "Please."

He let the tears slip down his cheeks unchecked, waiting.

"Please," he repeated. "I can't do this without you. We have so much to do still," he whispered, choking on the words, choking on his dreams, on what their life was supposed to be. "Come back to me," he pleaded. "Come back."

Harry held his breath, waiting, but nothing changed.

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

He fell asleep on his cot next to Draco's bed, arm stretched across the space between them so he could hold the other man's hand. His dreams had been strange in the hospital, time never worked quite right and Harry often woke gasping with the feeling that he was suffocating.

Tonight, though, he fell asleep and the next thing he knew, he was in a meadow outside of a little cabin with a stream running by it. He looked around, listening to the sound of the birds chirping in the trees nearby, the water babbling in the brook, and he took a slow deep breath of the clean air.

"I wondered if you'd show up," a voice that Harry would recognize anywhere said.

And for a moment, he kept his eyes closed, let his heart pound in anticipation before the inevitable disappointment.

"Open your eyes, love," he whispered as fingers brushed over his cheek.

Harry blinked his eyes open and there Draco stood in a pair of white linen pants and an untucked pale blue button up that he'd left partially unbuttoned. His long blond hair was elaborately braided, little braids all worked into one larger braid. And his face was covered in freckles, Harry ached with the desire to kiss each and every one. Merlin, he wanted to hold the other man and never let go, but he couldn't seem to even move.

"It's alright," Draco whispered, fingers tracing his cheek, "You can touch me."

He cupped Draco's hand in his and turned his head to press a kiss to the center of his palm, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's, "You don't have long," he murmured.

"What?" Harry asked, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"The connection," he said, like he wasn't quite sure it was the right word, "It's tenuous. You shouldn't really be able to be here at all, but you've always had an annoying penchant for breaking the rules."

"What?" he repeated, grasping at Draco's words and trying to hold them, "Tell me what you mean," he begged. "Where are we?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder, "I'm not really sure. But I know you're not meant to be able to get here."

"How do I get you out?" he asked next.

"I don't know," Draco replied.

"What do you know?" he asked desperately, because he needed something to go on.

Draco brushed his hair back from his face, "Your hair's getting long," he said softly.

"Draco," he prompted, "What do you know?" He clutched his hand in his, "You've been here for weeks, surely you've figured out something."

"I can hear you sometimes," he said. "Like this afternoon," he added, leaning down to kiss Harry's head.

Harry stared at him, waited for him to say something useful.

"Whatever the barrier is between here and there, it gets thin sometimes," he said. "I can hear you, I can feel you," he added, "But you can't hear me. And I don't know how to find you," he continued softly. "I tried," he said, "I really tried. But there's no way out," he said. "I can't get past-"

The world started to shiver a bit and Harry instinctively clutched Draco's hand tighter.

"You're going to have to go," he said as he peered past Harry, into the woods.

Harry rose to his feet and looked over his shoulder at where Draco was looking but he couldn't see anything. "What is it?" he asked, apprehension tingling in the tips of his fingers.

"I told you that you shouldn't be here," Draco whispered, fingers clutching Harry's arm, "You have to go."

"Why?" Harry asked, turning to look at Draco once more, "What is it?"

Draco's eyes met his and the look in them struck something dark deep inside of Harry, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "You can't stay," he repeated.

"Draco," Harry said, cupping his cheeks, to draw his eyes to his own, "What is it? What are you afraid of? What's out there?"

Grey eyes met his and he opened his mouth to speak but it was too late. The world started to dissolve around the two of them.

"No," Harry said, clinging to the other man, who began to slip through his fingers like sand. "Draco, no!" he cried. "I'll find you," he promised desperately. "I won't let you go. I'll-" he snapped awake, gasping for air like he'd been holding his breath underwater, with Draco's hand still firmly clasped in his.

He sat up and moved closer to the other man, pressing a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, the little mole on his neck, the knuckles of his hand. "I love you," he said, hoping he could hear him or feel him, "I love you so much, Draco," he said, pressing his forehead against the other man's. "And I will find you. I promise."

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

Welp. This is going to need a part 2

Day 165: Genderqueer | Day 167: Favorite Mug

[writingandimagining]

High Up in the Astronomy Tower (Part 5)

Part 1 | Prev | Next | Masterlist

Summary: Your first day as acting professor. Draco learns about rubber ducks and Tupperware.

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Teen (mentions of drug use) (other parts M), 💗

Add yourself to the taglist for updates here

You left Malfoy’s classroom with a slight smirk on your face.

For whatever reason, he seemed to react to be called Professor or sir. You couldn’t quite figure out why he was reacting, but you decided it was probably for a similar reason you didn't like Natalie calling you professor.

You made your way to the Great Hall, intending to grab something quick and head to your classroom. You stood at the entrance and contemplated whether you should go to the head table or to the Ravenclaw table.

You decided it would probably be best to act as a professor as much as possible.

As you walked up to the table you were ambushed by Ron and Hermione.

“(Y/N),” Hermione called out.

You tensed and paused. You did not want to be subject to an inquisition on the matter of Malfoy Malfoy. You were not a good liar, and you did not think they would take kindly to you having spent time with Malfoy, much less getting high with him on campus.

“Hi Hermione, long time no see,” you joked, making a point to look between her and Ron

Hermione laughed and Ron averted his eyes. An awkward silence fell, and you resisted the urge to say anything. Letting them speak first would prevent you from unnecessary word vomit.

Ron coughed. “So, we were wondering what you knew about Malfoy being the Potions professor.”

You shrugged. “Slughorn left and Malfoy did extremely well in Potions. I’m sure you guys remember that.”

Hermione nodded.

“But, what about, you know…?” Ron trailed off, shifting nervously in his seat.

You crooked an eyebrow.

“The Death Eater bit.”

You snorted. Subtlety was clearly not Ron’s strong suit.

“I doubt McGonagall would have even considered him if she had any worries. And Harry spoke for him at his trial. Is that not enough?”

“Should it be?” Hermione countered.

You sighed and sat down opposite them. This was going to be a long conversation.

“I don’t know. I was never on the receiving end of Malfoy’s bullying,” you paused. “His racism.”

Hermione and Ron both looked at you curiously.

Most wizards didn’t use that word. It was a muggle word, and it didn’t quite fit the blood purity standards of the Wizarding World, but you honestly couldn’t think of a better way to describe it.

“Do you think you could ever forgive him, Hermione?” you asked.

Hermione tilted her head.

“I could accept him making amends and changing, but forgiveness…” she trailed off.

You nodded.

You wouldn’t expect anything different from Hermione. She was kind and sympathetic, but she was still a person that had been treated in a way you couldn’t even imagine.

“McGonagall’s speech wasn’t wrong. She never made a point of forgiveness, just moving forward.”

“But-“ Ron started.

“Ron, I’m not saying this to excuse him, but think about it. He was raised by a father that would probably rank in the top five worst parents in all of history. He was essentially brainwashed. He lived with Voldemort in his house, probably under threat of death or worse. I don’t know any of the particulars, but none of that is something that’s going to create the most sensitive or stable-minded kid. He’s an adult now. For those of us that didn’t experience his blood status bullying what he does from now on should be the only thing to count toward how we treat him.”

Ron frowned and you knew he wasn’t convinced.

You didn’t expect him to be, but it was still disappointing all the same. He was clinging to the rivalry, not the actual actions and beliefs.

You stood.

“Look, everyone is going to have a different relationship with Malfoy, but for what it’s worth he seems like he is going to be a good professor.”

You left them to talk between each other and made your way to the head table. You swiped a sandwich and an orange and then quickly exited the hall before you could be stopped again.

The rest of lunch passed with you in your classroom taking down notes from your Fourth Year sections and making a list of materials for the classroom.

At the sound of the door hinges creaking open you saw a few Seven Years trickle in. Their surprise at the circle of desks was short-lived and they began to take their seats settling into some casual conversations.

You spotted Ginny and gave her a smile. You had spoken with her a few times throughout the years, but if you were going to attempt to be friends with Harry then it was probably best to get to know his girlfriend.

She gave you a cautious smile back, probably not remembering your limited interactions.

You grabbed your attendance roll and your notebook and made your way over to an empty desk.

“Good afternoon class. I know this is probably weird to see me up here. To make things easier you can call me Miss (Y/N)."

A few students nodded and you took that as a positive sign.

It was weird to think you were only a year, give or take a few months, older than them. Yet you were the authority inside this classroom.

“I know most of you stopped taking Muggle Studies because it was offered as an elective, but in light of the past few years, it was deemed best to make it a regular part of the curriculum going forward. Each of you is going to have a different background of knowledge, but we’re still going to cover a lot of topics as a group.”

You paused and looked over the room. Nothing on their faces gave away any indication of how you were doing.

“Okay, we’re going to spend today discussing what we do know and what we want to know. Next week I will hand out a course plan and reading list. I will procure the Muggle literature for you.”

A groan at the back of the room.

“What’s that?” you asked, you hoped your tone came off as stern.

“Muggle literature? Really?” A Slytherin boy commented.

“What’s your name?”

“Liam Rider.”

“Well, Mister Rider, I’m not sure if you were aware but this is Muggle Studies. It would be rather difficult to study Muggles but not interact with them or anything related to them.”

He rolled his eyes, and you suppressed a frown.

You weren’t surprised that this was happening, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing.

“There’s no reason for us to be learning about them.”

“Why?”

“Because they have nothing to offer.”

“Why do you think that?” you pressed.

“They just don’t.”

“Muggles are part of this world. We live alongside them. In fact, there are more Muggles than Wizards, by a striking amount. Many of your classmates and myself included, have strong connections to the Muggle world.”

Liam opened his mouth to respond, but you decided you weren’t going to give him any more room to just simply repeat himself.

“This is not an attack on any one of you, but the prejudice against muggles and by extension muggle-born wizards and half-bloods is honestly ridiculous. Beyond it having no logical justifications it’s completely immoral and frankly a disgusting mindset. There is no reason to discount whole groups of people based on things about them that they cannot change. Believing that there is no value in people different from you is a slippery slope to some of the worst things that have happened in our history and Muggle history.”

Silence.

“Regardless of your personal opinions, we will be taking the time to explore the muggle world in this class. I would like to hear about the things you know and what you would like to know about.”

The rest of the class passed without a serious incident, but you could tell there were still several students that clearly wished to be doing anything other than studying muggles.

The day ended and as students filtered out of your class you looked over the notes you had taken from the discussions.

Many students were interested in the topics you had mentioned in the classes. Several students wanted to explore technology, a few were curious about specific events in history, a few had more technical questions about the workings of science that you weren’t completely confident in being able to address.

You ripped the notes out of your notebook and began writing down a rough structure for the Fourth Years on a new page. The Seventh Years were going to be harder to teach. There was a lot of background knowledge missing from even the students with a muggle relation.

A knock at your door startled you out of your thoughts.

You looked up and realized how dark the room had become. You must have been in there planning for at least two hours.

McGonagall stood there with a proud look glinting in her eyes.

“It seems that you have already accepted the position,” she commented.

You smiled, “Did you ever think I wouldn’t?”

“No.”

“I would like to purchase some muggle books and things for the classroom. Would that be possible?”

“Of course. The Ministry has given us an extremely large budget for the reconstruction and the expanded class sizes for Muggle Studies.”

“That’s great. Could I go out to purchase them this weekend?”

McGonagall pursed her lips.

You worried your lip while you waited for her response.

You hoped that she wasn’t going to say no. You wanted to go into bookstores and see what would strike you for each grade.

“You should take another professor with you, but I don’t see why not. You will have to use the floo in my office. We extended the ward against apparition much further than they used to be.”

You nodded.

“You should come down to dinner now, Miss (Y/L/N). It’s almost six.”

McGonagall turned and left.

You quickly packed all your papers into your bag and then left the classroom, locking the door behind you.

You quietly slipped into the Great Hall.

You saw Malfoy was already sitting at the table. You could see the tension lining his body and you sped up your walk.

“Good evening, Professor Malfoy,” you said, unable to keep the grin off your face.

Malfoy’s eyes met yours and you could see some of the tension leave his body. Your heart flipped. You’re the only person being remotely friendly to him, don’t read into it too much.

“We’re not in class anymore, (Y/N),” Malfoy said, stressing the use of your first name.

You rounded the table and took the seat beside him.

“But you’re still a professor and I’m not, sir.”

You saw Malfoy grip the arms of the chair out of the corner of your eyes and you suppressed a laugh.

How could it be this easy to tease him?

“We’re literally both sitting at the head table.”

“Well, if you insist, sir.”

Malfoy muttered something under his breath you couldn’t make out.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Malfoy straightened and turned his body to face you, well as much as he could in the ridiculously grandiose chairs that lined the head table.

“Nothing, Miss (Y/L/N),” Malfoy all but purred.

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself lacking.

A cough from behind you had you ripping your eyes away from Malfoy’s.

“Harry! How was your first official day?” you said, desperate to get Malfoy’s searing gaze off your neck.

Harry grinned. “Well, I get to gloat to you, Hermione, and Ron. A few of the First Years were able to perform a Patronus.”

“What?! That’s so exciting!”

Harry had some sort of special skill for teaching defense. He was going to be a perfect professor for Hogwarts. You couldn’t imagine anyone else would be able to teach eleven-year-olds in their second week of school how to do a Patronus.

“None of them were corporeal though.”

“Many adults don’t have corporeal Patronus’s,” Malfoy commented.

You nodded.

“Well, how was your day (Y/N)?” Harry asked, sitting down as the food appeared on the table.

“It was good for the most part. The Fourth Years seemed much more open to muggle studies than the Seventh Years, but that is to be expected.”

“I heard some of the Fourth Years comment on the desks.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, the main takeaway was the desks and not the discussion.

“It’s like they’ve never seen a circle before.”

Harry snorted.

“What did you do?” Malfoy asked.

“All I did was arrange the desks in a circle and sit with them.”

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s not that big of a deal."

You decided to change the subject before Malfoy made some comment on the need for militaristic rows.

"You know when I was looking over the plans from the Ministry the day before classes they just had “rubber duck” on the list of things to teach? I decided maybe discussions with actualmaterials of importance would serve them better than a rubber duck.”

“A rubber duck?” Malfoy questioned.

He had a very genuine look on his face, and you could hear Harry suppressing a laugh to your right.

You elbowed Harry and he choked on his food.

“It’s a bath toy. It’s literally just a yellow duck that’s squishy. Sometimes they squirt water.”

“And that was on the curriculum?”

“Ron’s dad probably put it on there,” Harry said.

You gave Harry a confused look.

“He loves rubber ducks for some reason. I think plastic is confusing to wizards.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense…” you laughed at the sudden thought you had. “Can you imagine showing them Tupperware?”

“Oh, Merlin. I need to bring some to Ron’s dad next time I see him.”

You chuckled.

“Tupperware?” Malfoy asked.

You opened your mouth to respond and then closed it. Explaining Tupperware without knowing what that kind of plastic was going to be hard.

“It’s a container for storing food,” Harry said. You nodded. That was the easiest way to explain it without launching into a whole discussion on plastic.

“You know, Draco, I’m going to go shopping for muggle books this weekend. You can come with me, and I can show you some muggle things if you want. McGonagall said I needed to have a professor come with me.”

Malfoy looked a little surprised at your invitation, but you saw the hint of a pleased look in his eyes at the use of his first name.

He nodded his consent and you smiled brightly at him.

The rest of dinner passed in easy conversation as the three of you discussed your classes.

After dinner, you made your way to the Eighth Year dorm.

Harry broke off to discuss the potential sleeping arrangement with Ron and Hemione and you and Draco sat down in the only available seating. It was a loveseat by the bookshelves. And your stomach fluttered.

Calm down (Y/N), you’re sharing a chair not a bed.

You noticed a few stray looks from the Eighth Years in the room, but nobody said anything.

You dropped your bag onto the floor, shedding your robe and toeing off your shoes.

Draco followed suit, but he also pulled off his sweater and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down.

Well, that’s just unfair.

You greedily drank in the sight. His hair was slightly disheveled from the sweater. A few platinum strands hung over his forehead, making him look less severe. His forearms and hands caught your eye: long fingers and toned muscles, you could see the veins slightly when he stretched his arms out to place his robe over the back of the loveseat.

You shook yourself hoping he hadn’t noticed your much too long gaze.

You curled up into the corner of the loveseat.

Draco sat much closer than was necessary, but you decided bringing attention to that was more awkward than the act itself.

“Harry seems to be more comfortable with you than I thought he would be,” you commented once you had settled into the loveseat.

Draco nodded.

“How has everyone else been?”

Draco shrugged.

You frowned, he was significantly less talkative than he had been Saturday.

“Are you okay, Draco?”

He sighed and leaned back into the loveseat, stretching out his legs and throwing his arms behind his head.

“The students are cautious, but you were right about compassion and respect. I had the Fifth Years and Eighth Years today and it went well enough. But I think the First and Seventh Years are going to be the hardest.”

The First Years had probably heard all sorts of stories about Draco from the older kids. True or not very few, if any, were going to paint Draco in a favorable light.

The Seventh Years did not have the benefit of knowing Harry Potter like the Eighth Years did. Most people seemed aware that Harry had vouched for Draco and his mother at their trials, but that had probably faded in the minds of people that didn’t know Harry or Draco personally.

“Well, you’ll have Luna at least.”

Draco hummed.

It wasn’t a very reassuring statement that Seventh Years outside of Slytherin and Luna were probably going to be terrible to Draco. Though maybe even some of the Slytherins would be.

You decided to change the subject.

“Have you ever seen a movie?”

Draco lifted his head, both eyebrows raised.

“Okay, fair. I should have known the answer to that.”

Draco said nothing and you realized he was waiting for an explanation.

“Oh right. So, you know how we have the moving paintings and photos? Muggles take stories and kind of… Capture them like the photos or paintings, but they’re a few hours and it’s usually made-up.”

“That clarified nothing.”

“It’s a book you watch.”

Draco tilted his head.

“Let’s just go and you can see for yourself.”

Draco gave you a small smile and dropped his head back down.

A companionable silence fell, and you relaxed further into the couch.

You didn’t realize you were dozing off until you felt your head tilt to the side.

That woke you slightly and you groaned at the pain in your neck.

Draco cracked open an eye and you pointed to your neck.

You groaned again as you tiredly rubbed it while rotating your head side to side.

He closed his eye again and you contemplated getting up and going to bed.

“If you need to stretch out…” Draco trailed off. You pursed your lips. Was he trying to say you could put your head or feet in his lap?

“How would you propose I do that?”

Draco opened his eyes and looked like he was going to reply, but he was interrupted.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned and saw Harry behind you.

You smiled tiredly.

“Hermione said it’s okay. I already move some stuff into the room.”

“Okay. I should probably get in bed before I fall asleep sitting up,” you replied.

“See you up there.”

Harry turned and left.

You turned back around, and Draco was sitting up and somewhat alert.

The tired look in his eyes made you reach over and squeeze the hand that was resting on the back of the couch.

“You should get some sleep too, Draco.”

“I’ll try,” he replied, a slight edge to his voice.

“Don’t like being woken up?” you joked.

“Something like that.”

You considering pressing, but decided against it. You were too tired to pick apart the man’s subtle mannerisms.

You squeezed his hand once more and then stood collecting your things.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

[weelittleweasley]

sheer brilliance (f.w.)

prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?

pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader

warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol

word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)

author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdricreads​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @another-lonely-heart​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @spacexcowgirl​ @PaintballKid711 @vogueweasley​ @freddie-weaselbee​ @freds-slut​ @missmulti​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @valwritesx​ @sweeterthansammy​ @loonylovegood13​ @lostaurorax​

“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls. 

You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.” 

As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.

“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.

Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.” 

You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.

The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.

“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.

Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, “So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”

You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall. 

In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye. 

“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.

Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.” 

He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.

“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm. 

Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks. 

Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”

Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”

Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.” 

“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”

“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.

The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news. 

Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a  women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”

“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.

Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.” 

Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.

“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same. 

Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats. 

“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.

Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?

You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.

At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins. 

Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.

You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”

But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”

His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.

But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.

Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”

Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”

Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest. 

He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile. 

Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”

You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.

Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk. 

“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into. 

As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”

Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”

“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your  daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.

Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”

This was going to be a long semester.

Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class. 

Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer. 

Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it. 

The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.

“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.

The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”

You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk. 

The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.

He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.

But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”

His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.

“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.

Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.

With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.

Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him. 

“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.

Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”

But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize. 

You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.

It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage. 

“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”

You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.

Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”

Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.

“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.

You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...” 

The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”

Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”

Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.

Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.

A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.

-------

The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes. 

You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.

“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.

You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.

With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.

You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm. 

Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.

Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.

Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.

You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.

Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs. 

As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”

You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”

“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”

She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”

Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.

“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.

Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.

As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.

“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.

You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.

The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting. 

As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents. 

The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.

But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand. 

You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”

Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?” 

You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.

An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.

“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.

You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”

Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”

His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.

He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say. 

Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.

“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet. 

Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.

Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.

Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”

And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.

You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.

Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.

Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.

You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.

Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.

Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Maybe today would be better than yesterday.

--------

Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.

Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling. 

“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.

When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.

“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.

You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.

Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”

You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”

“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle. 

With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.” 

You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”

Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.

Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over. 

“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”

“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”

You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”

Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.

“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus. 

Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.

A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.

Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”

You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.

Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”

Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.

After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey. 

You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands. 

“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.

You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.

In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.” 

Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?” 

You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”

Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.

“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you. 

He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat. 

“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.

“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.

Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”

You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”

Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”

“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.

Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest. 

Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie. 

The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.

The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful? 

Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years. 

As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace. 

You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”

“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.

You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.” 

A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”

And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.

------

Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible. 

As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.

“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”

You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.

Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”

You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”

You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.

As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?

Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.

You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.

Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”

You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.

Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.

Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”

You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.

The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”

“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”

This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory. 

The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.

Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students. 

“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one. 

After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”

“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”

You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”

“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles. 

Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”

You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”

He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod. 

The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles. 

You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.

You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.

“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”

You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”

Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”

“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.

He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded. 

Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.

Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”

[cursestothemoon]

Parents, Presents, and Girlfriends

Requested: yes

Hermione x fem! gryffindor! reader

Warnings: suggestive towards the end, also a steamy kiss towards the end, mentions of food

Summary: Hermione is nervous to meet her girlfriends parents and spend the Christmas holiday with them, but quickly she realizes how silly she was. That and her girlfriend was cross-eyed as a baby.

also i didn’t edit this due to pure laziness so i am sorry 

Word Count: 2301

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, meeting your parents is one thing but spending the holiday with them? What if I make a terrible first impression, then they are stuck with me for two weeks? What then?”

The way Hermione paced as she rambled made you chuckle, her eyebrows shooting up and falling down every so often.

“I think you are overthinking it, Mione. They’ll love you.” Your tone was confident.

She gave you a look asking if you were sure and you giggled as you stood up. You made your way over to her, taking her hands and bringing them to your lips. Hermione seemed to relax, her shoulders slumping, as you ran her knuckles across your lips before gently placing a few kisses on them.

“Trains leaving soon, love, I think we should get ready to go.”

Hermione nodded going to grab her bags- they had been packed since last week- and you made your way to your things, shoving in a few last minute socks and knickers before zipping it up. You grabbed Hermione by the hand, and you two walked out of your shared dorm, chatting until arriving at the train.

The train ride was spent in a compartment with Ron and Harry, both going to the Burrow for Christmas, and a plethora of sweets.

“Sixth year, can you guys believe it?” Ron asked munching on a chocolate frog leg.

Harry swallowed Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean, the grimace he sported was a dead giveaway that it was not a prefered flavor, before answering, “Remember when we flew the car to school?”

Ron nodded with a fond smile but it was Hermione’s voice that came out, “That was the most idiotic thing you two have ever done.”

“Oh don’t act all high and mighty now, that was when you met Y/n.” Harry teased, nudging his head in your direction.

Hermione turned crimson as she bowed her head with a small smile. Your hand found hers on the seat and gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah, you two weren’t around to make me look bad.” Hermione said, remembering the first train ride with you and how quickly you two had become best friends.

It was true, you two quickly became friends during second year, yet neither of you were able to actually identify your feelings as romantic until fourth year. Both of you had gone to the Yule Ball with a date, Hermione with Viktor Krum and you with Dean Thomas. The Ball was fun, though the jealousy spewing in both your hearts put a bit of a damper on things, fortunately the night ended with you two snogging in your dorm before any of the other girls got back. Surely they put two and two together when they got back however, lipstick smudged, dresses just slightly askew, and hair frazzled.

After the infamous night, you two had started dating. Now you had convinced her to spend Christmas holiday with you and your family, wanting your parents to meet the girl you were certain you were going to marry. Hermione had no reason to be worried, unbeknownst to her, your parents already knew all about her- perhaps a bit too much- from the countless letters you’ve written them gushing about your girlfriend.

“What if they don’t like me? Or-or, oh I don’t know! Does my hair look alright?” Hermione fumbled, hands shooting up to comb down her already neat hair- she had done it during the train ride.

“Your hair looks good, and they will like you. Try mentioning S.P.E.W.” You winked, walking out of the compartment.

Hermoine rushed after you, “Don’t leave me! I’m nervous, take my hand.”

You shook your head with a giggle, offering your hand to her as you waited for her to catch up. She took it gratefully, walking in stride with you to the now open door of the train that led to the platform 9 ¾.

The platform was buzzing with families, all bundled up for winter, greeting their children. A rush of excitement filled your being as you looked for your parents, turning to catch a glimpse of Hermione whose eyes were wide and smile, nervous.

“Y/n! Hermione! Over here!” It was your mum’s voice.

“Merlin, she knows my name.” Hermione mumbled to herself.

You chuckled, pulling Hermione by the hand to where your mum was waving at you two from a little ways down the platform. Upon reaching your mother, Hermione was pulled into a hug leaving you to gasp in feigned offence.

“I am your daughter you know?”

“And I’m your mother. Now that we’ve got titles out of the way let me greet your girlfriend.” Your mom waved you off turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione smiled, a bit overwhelmed by the aggressive hug, “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. L/n. Merry Christmas.”

“Call me Y/m/n, and it’s even lovelier to meet you. Y/n doesn’t shut up about you in her letters, you’re featured in every single one.”

“Mum.” You groaned, cheeks starting to heat up.

Hermione laughed, the knots in her stomach finally starting to loosen. Your mum seemed to take to her quickly, leaving you to grab most of the luggage. Hermione tried to protest, offering to help but your mother initiated you had it taken care of and she wrapped an arm around your girlfriend's shoulders starting a conversation about school, you presume.

“Yeah, I’m fine, not to worry.” You grumble, finally getting the five bags you were left with off the floor and comfortable enough for you to walk with.

“Carry the bags, Y/n. Let me get to know your girlfriend, Y/n. You can handle it.” You mimicked as you three finally made it to the car, your father sitting at the wheel before catching sight of you three and jumping out.

“Girls! Sorry I wasn’t at the platform, your mum thought it best if we bombarded Hermione one parent at a time.” He smiled, grabbing the bags from your hands quickly.

He watched you drop them with a huff, “Why’d you carry ‘em all, Y/n?”

“Oh you know, just trying to impress Hermione.” You said sarcastically, making him laugh as he shoved the bags into the trunk of the vehicle.

Your dad was a muggle, as muggle as they come really. He had a modest childhood, only ever getting what he needed, wants and luxuries saved for the children who could afford them. Your mother was a pureblood witch, a Gryffindor at that, and had lived in the house just a town over from your father’s. They had been together since they were fifteen, married since they were nineteen.

The backseat of the car held you and Hermione, your mum in the passenger seat and your father driving back to the house. The radio emitted a low tune but other than that a comfortable silence filled the car. You reached your hand across the seat, grabbing Hermione’s and giving a gentle squeeze. She turned to you, a smile nearly splitting her face, and her eyes sparkling. Clearly she was having a good time, and maybe carrying the bags all that way was worth it.  

The ride home was quick, the newly fallen snow nearly blinding on the dark, paved roads. Your home coming into view causes a bubble of giddiness to rise into your belly, mum always decorated for Christmas and you could tell she went all out this year. The pathway leading up to the house had six Christmas trees, three on each side and each one sparkling with twinkling white lights and a red bow on top. The house itself was a good size, wedding present from your mother’s side, and had the same white twinkling lights wrapping around it.

“Welcome home.” You teased, grinning at Hermione.

Christmas Eve had gone without a hitch, dinner went exceptionally well. It felt as though Hermione had been a part of the family for ages, her humour, wit, and intelligence melded very well with that of your family’s. It was evident Hermione realized she had been nervous for nothing, a smile had sat gracefully on her face all night and you couldn’t be happier.

After dinner you and Hermioen had broken away from your parents- still chattering in the kitchen- and made your way to the front steps with hot chocolate cradled in each of your hands. You took a sip from your cup, the whip cream finding a nice spot to rest just at the top of your upper lip making the witch next to you let out a laugh.

“Is there something on my face?” Your tone was painfully oblivious.

She laughed again, “Nope, not at all.”

“Good, now give me a kiss, babes.”

You pucker your lips with exaggeration, leaning toward her. She laughed harder trying to lean away from her girlfriend but realized it was a losing battle so she retaliated. Hermioen grabbed your face and pulled you closer to her, only to bring her tongue out and lick a broad stripe over your mouth, collecting the whipped cream.

The shock was evident on your face as you froze for a moment before grimacing theatrically.

“I can’t believe you just licked me.” You muttered, a hand coming up to wipe your mouth.

“You were asking for it.” Hermione shrugged.

You let out a sigh before looking at her, a feigned expression of thinking drawn on your face, “I think now I deserve a proper kiss for that. Only fair.”

Hermione pretended to think for a moment also before she nodded, “You’re right, I think you do.”

She leaned over, pulling your lips to hers in a heated kiss. Her hand went to your waist, pulling at the material of your pants to bring you closer, you let out a quiet whimper at this making her slide her right hand over your backside, groping at the clothed flesh. You deepened the kiss, bringing one hand up to hold her face, the other one resting comfortable around her neck.

Hermione pulled her lips from yours with a smacking sound making you let out a breathy laugh.

“Apology accepted.”

The comment made Hermione snort, a hand coming up to shove your shoulder gently. A few whipped cream mustaches and far more than a few kisses later, both you and Hermione decided to go inside to get warmed up.

Your mother running around with blankets, your father following with pillows- though he’d rather not run- made you raise your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Mum...what are you doing?”

“Getting Hermione’s room ready.”

“Hermione’s...room...ready?” You tried to understand, really you did.

The way you said the words made your dad snort, before going to drop the pillows off in the spare room.

You turned to your mom, “I thought Hermione would be sleeping in my room...you know… with me?”

“People who date can’t sleep in the same room, that was the rule for your brother, that’s the rule for you. No matter how sweet Hermione is, I know you might try some funny business.” She said, a finger pointing at you.

Hermione laughed, knowing just how true it was before assuring, “I’m alright with staying in the spare room it’s alright.”

You groaned and stammered, not unlike a child complaining, “But- but, Hermione and I share a dorm. And! And! Even if there was any funny business, which there won’t be, don't be weird Mum, but if there was it’s not like either of us would get pregnant.”

Your dad gave a loud snort as he watched your mum try to find something to say.

“Well…”

“I mean, she’s not wrong, Y/M/N.” Your dad added, winking at you.

Your mother thought for a moment before giving in, “Alright, I suppose you’re right. But if her snoring gets too loud Hermione, you are more than welcome to switch rooms.”

You scoffed in offence, holding your hand over your heart dramatically, “I do not snore.”

The silence was deafening, and you turned to Hermione, “Don’t feed into this!”

She brushed you off with a smile before turning to your parents, “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Your parents bid you two goodnight and made their way to their room, both Hermione and you walking in the direction of yours before your mum called out again.

“Remember, bright and early for presents in the morning! Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” You and Hermione said in sync before opening the door to your room.

You walked in, Hermione following, and turned just as you heard her close and lock the door.

“Should I be worried?” You joked.

Hermione shook her head with a smirk, “Hope they won’t mind if I have you one of your presents early…” She trailed off as she walked toward you slowly.

“And to think, they thought I would be the one to start the funny business. Unbelievable…”

BONUS:

You sat on the floor in between Hermione’s legs as she sat on the couch, thumbing through a photo album your mum had so graciously given her. Your father handed her a few loose photographs, those were the really embarrassing ones that he liked to keep close, that you really wished he would’ve kept to himself.

Hermione would laugh to herself every so often making you look up from the scarf you were knitting to try and see the picture that brought out that reaction. Unfortunately, your seat was not the most fitting for such so you couldn’t catch the picture. That is until Hermione spoke up.

“You were cross-eyed as a baby. Did you know?”

Suddenly you knew the exact picture she was looking at making you groan, dropping your forehead onto her knee in embarrassment.

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

[bwbatta]

six - confessions

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Word count: 2960

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one, turn it upp! ...I won’t lie, i’ve been putting off writing this purely because I don’t want to stop writing this. Anyway, the final part is finally here and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you all! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5

Draco signed his name quickly and looked back at the letter he’d written. It was simple enough to get his point across, yet the repercussions from sending this could be huge. 

The blonde heir was adamant though. If this is what it took, then he would gladly accept whatever consequences came his way. He could figure it out, he always did. 

Taking a breath in to help stabilise his thoughts and nerves, he quickly put his quill down before he wrote anything else that wasn’t needed. Reading it through once more, he made sure his words were enough for now. 

Father,

I apologise for not responding sooner to your previous letter, I was at a loss for a while as to what to write.

I understand our family values and as much as I uphold them for our family’s benefit, my relationship or any of my relationships are my choice. Whilst she is not pureblood, she is not muggleborn either and both of her parents have magic, which is why I ask you to at the very least consider giving Y/N a chance.

With respect, I will not determine my relationship on your opinions, especially since you haven’t met her.

You understand there aren’t many things I would go against you on, but this is something I feel particularly strongly about. 

Regards, 

Draco

Nodding his head, he quickly folded the letter and attached it to his family’s owl. With a screech, the bird took off. 

All Draco could do now was wait.

“Please?! You’re the best person at charms that I know, you would be my favourite person on earth?!”

“Blaise-”

“Y/N please, Flitwick might push for me to be kicked out of Hogwarts if I don’t pass this test”

You snorted unattractively as you walked down the corridor, arms riddled with books. On your way to the Herbology greenhouses for your afternoon lesson, you were blitzed by Blaise who had been trying to convince you for the last five minutes to help him write his essay which was due in a couple days time. 

Blaise and you had nearly made it into the greenhouses when Professor Sprout stopped him at the door.

“You’re not in my class today Mr Zabini, I suggest you get heading towards your own class before you’re late.”

The elder witch gave him a stern look to which he smiled at, trying to lower her strict exterior. 

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something really important really quickly, Professor. It’ll only take a minute?”

“No” she rolled her eyes at the boy, “you can do that in your own time.”

“But, Professor-”

“No buts Zabini-”

“Alright Blaise, I’ll do it” you finally caved, seeing as the boy would most likely be reduced to ash from Sprout’s harsh stare otherwise. 

“Astronomy tower, 8pm?”

“Wait-”

“Okay bye!”

Without another word he turned and rushed off back inside the castle, heading to whatever his next lesson was, leaving you partially annoyed, partially awkward at the look Sprout was now sending you.

“Inside” she cocked her head towards the doorway and with a defeated look you headed into the greenhouse. 

You hadn’t been back to the Astronomy tower, despite classes, since that fight between Draco and you and you weren’t too keen on returning. Blaise however, had given you no choice in the matter as you probably wouldn’t see him until that time you’d agreed to meet. This meant you’d have to suck up your anxieties about the tower and get over yourself. 

If only it were that easy.

Your free period was rather quiet today you reckoned but you couldn’t put your finger on why it was so quiet? 

The twins weren’t around and neither were Harry and Ron, yet that was normal since you were studying in the library with Hermione. Though Hermione didn’t really talk much when you two studied, something still felt off.

Not to mention the other thing which was bothering you was how Blaise acted earlier? He was normally the most relaxed person you knew, but his earlier rushed and fretted actions also seemed wrong.

You snorted at the thought in your head; imagine if he was trying to set you back up with Draco at the astronomy tower later?!

Another sigh left your lips as you continued to try and figure out what else felt off. Hermione’s eyes darted from the essay she was writing to you sat opposite her. 

“Is there something bothering you?”

You met her stare awkwardly and shrugged slightly. 

“I don’t know, does something feel off to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet, you know? I can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Maybe it’s because that blonde tumour isn't attached to your side anymore?!” Hermione snorted as she turned back to her work, leaving you staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

Ignoring the remark of how the witch had described Draco, she was right in the way that he did used to surprise you while you were studying. 

Was that it? You were missing him being near you?

You hadn’t really spoken to the Malfoy, only small comments in class when you were next to each other but apart from that, he wasn’t constantly next to you anymore and that bothered you. 

You had to admit you did like fake dating Draco, but that was over, it was a joke, a favour, nothing more. So why the hell would you accept anything to go back to him annoying you, him being at your side constantly, or his arm around you 90% of the time?

Then you froze.

You knew exactly why.

Holy shit, you loved him. Like actually loved him. 

Slowly starting to freak yourself out, you sat back in your chair as your mind whirred around that fact. 

He’s Draco. 

He’s one of your best friends and now everything was so messed up because he’s Draco.

Stubborn, bratty, arrogant Draco.

Who likes Draco?!

And then it hits you again. You do, you really really do. 

Because he’s Draco.

Because he cares about you and would do anything for you. Just like you’d do anything for him. He might be stubborn, but so are you. He might be bratty and spoilt because of his parents, but he actively spoils you just because he can. And he might be arrogant to everyone else, but you know how humble he could be and acts around you. His reaction after you opened your Christmas present proved that enough. 

Holy shit. 

These feelings are going to ruin whatever’s between you, friendship or not, because how the hell could you keep this to yourself? How the hell could you not tell him you loved him?

The only thing was... you were the second person to ask yourself that today. 

Draco paced in the tower, a letter held tightly in his hand as he waited for you to show up. Guaranteed it wasn't 8pm yet, but he was still so anxious for when you did actually turn up. Were you going to turn up?

A lot of things had flown through his mind today, some putting him on edge as to whether his plan to get you back would work, yet nothing had made him as anxious as when the letter arrived from his father earlier that day.

It was slightly wrinkled now from how much he had fiddled with it in his hands and with a frown, Draco tucked it back into his pocket, forcing himself to take a long breath as he did so and run his hands nervously through his hair.

Not even a moment passed before he heard the door below slam shut and your footsteps approach. A brief flash of panic flew through his body like he’d been electrocuted, what if this was a bad idea? What if you didn’t want him like he wanted you and he would just look like a complete idiot?

All the thoughts in his head however vanished as soon as you reached the top step and your eyes locked on his. 

Neither of you said anything at first and the silence was almost deafening.

“Fucking Blaise,” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “Earlier I bet myself he’d do something like this.”

“It was actually my idea”

“...I see” 

“Surprised?” 

You snorted

“No.” You hid your grin at the look of offence present on his face, “I knew one of you would come up with something like this. I had my money on Blaise as he was the one I spoke to earlier. Despite how much you love being mysterious and complicated Draco, you’re like an open book to me.”

The wizard let out a snort, he had a feeling she would figure something was up. They really did know each other well.

The silence stilted in the air again and felt heavy despite the fresh air surrounding them. 

You looked down, avoiding the blue eyes that watched you. Despite being in love with him, you had no idea what to actually say to him. Luckily he took the lead.

“It was really stupid.”

You frowned, before you forced yourself to glance towards him, eyes catching on how he was looking at you.

“What was?”

“The fact we thought we could pretend and fake an entire relationship with no consequences.”

You didn’t say anything. 

“I mean let’s be honest,” Draco scoffed a laugh, “we really thought that everything would go back to how it was before? That was stupid. Also the fact that the whole ‘having a fake girlfriend’ thing wasn’t really working for me.”

He paused to assess your reaction for a moment before continuing on. 

“We were great as a fake couple, sure. We were also great at being friends, I mean... that was before I kissed you and fell in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. A smile grew faintly on his face as he took in your reaction. After realising you weren’t going to bolt, he took a couple steps closer until he stood right before you, his toes almost touching your own. 

“This whole fake dating thing was so stupid in so many ways except for one; how it made me realise how much I genuinely want to be your boyfriend.”

Draco shrugged sightly like it was no big deal, but inside he had to remind his lungs to work.

Why hadn’t you said anything yet? Maybe because he can’t stop his mouth from talking? Should he stop talking? His mouth opened again before he could stop himself.

“I want you. I want us. But I want it for real, not some half-assed, pathetic excuse of relationship which is all just an act and makes us question where we stand with each other.” 

His voice lowered to a whisper but you heard him perfectly. 

“Draco... I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but I can’t help the fact that I’m not a pureblood and your parents won’t accept me-”

“Wait, okay, hold on.”

Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the crumpled letter and attempted to flatten it out slightly. 

“I sent my father a letter in response the one you read the other day and I got this back earlier today. Just... just read it.”

He held the letter out at you with such a serious expression causing you to frown, you took it from him wondering what was in it. Opening the parchment, your eyes immediately flicked back to the blonde once more, only to find him watching your every movement.

“Draco,

I don’t believe you understand the seriousness of what you’re asking from your mother and I. You have a duty to this family to uphold and despite the notion that you wouldn’t disobey me with much, this is still a vital factor of those duties.

Nevertheless, you expressed your seriousness for this girl, coupled with your mother’s bickering about at least meeting her, I will give you one chance. We will meet her if she values the seriousness and significance of our values. If she does not however, then you will end whatever you have with her. 

You understand in the near future, things will change. You need to be as prepared as possible.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy”

You read the letter once through, then twice, then once more. Your mind was in a flurry at the words, taking them in and the weight they held. Draco’s parents had agreed to give you a chance, however it came with a price and one you were in two minds about taking. 

On one hand, you could be with Draco and support him through whatever hell was coming your way, as long as you abided by their blood purity mania, which, if Harry was right, meant Voldemort. On the other hand, it meant not having the Malfoy boy in your life.

Your eyes finally left the words and flicked back up to meet Draco’s own. His expression was unreadable as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, that’s intense”

“You can’t really expect anything less from my father.”

“I gathered that.”

Your eyes landed on the elder Malfoy’s name once more and you bit your lip slightly. 

“I said once I would be willing to get mixed up in this for you, and I stand by it, Draco. I don’t know whatever's going to happen in the future but I know I want you by my side through it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I want you and I’ll do whatever it takes to be at your side.”

“Y/N-”

“Draco, I love you, let me do this for you. I can play whoever your parents want me to be.”

Draco didn’t say anything more but stared at you with a half smile on his face. Your eyebrows knitted together as you caught sight of it, not really sure where the expression came from. Talking about faking your views on blood purity and Voldemort wasn’t really a cause for smiling.

“What?”

“Say it again?”

“Say what again?”

“You love me.”

You realised then. You’d told him you loved him in amidst all that but you hadn't even realised it. Well, that’s one way to admit it. 

“I love you,” you said with no hesitation as a smile grew on your own face. “I want you, for real. No fake relationship, just us.”

As quick as you’d finished speaking, Draco’s lips were on yours. It was chaotic, unscripted and messy, but it was real. 

Your hands slid to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pressing you to him. He kissed you with such passion you swore your heart stopped for a split second.

How the hell had you both faked this for so long?!

Taking a break, he pulled away but rested his forehead on yours, not wanting too much distance. 

“If you’re all in Y/N, so am I. I’ll protect you with my life, you may’ve been my friend first, but you’re everything to me now.”

His lips pressed against yours again, much softer this time like he was trying to memorise and convince himself you were really there. That this was really happening.

“Draco Malfoy, I’m all in.”

You were surprised the next day for two reasons.

One; for how many people had actually bet on Draco’s and your relationship. George got his five galleons back from Fred again after the news reached them. He happily took the money from his brother before lifting his glass to you from across the hall in thanks. 

Both Crabbe and Goyle owed Blaise 10 galleons, though you supposed he had an unfair advantage, (not that you’d tell the duo). 

But the second thing which surprised you was the letter you received at lunch from the headmaster himself. 

Dumbledore had barely even looked in your direction, let alone spoken to you personally, so the note you got from him asking to meet him in his office later spiked your anxiety. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hermione shrugged before lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s probably something to do with the DA or Umbridge.”

“Hermione, I didn’t even think he knew I existed, now he’s asking me to come have a chat?”

“Just go, you’ll never know otherwise and you’ll keep fretting.”

The rest of your day passed quickly and you found yourself before the headmaster’s office later that evening. Taking another quick look at the note in your hand, scribbled at the bottom was a comment about him liking sherbet lemons which stuck out to you.

“Sherbet lemons?”

The gargoyle surprised you by jumping out the way, opening up the staircase to you. Without another thought, you climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore turned to face you as you entered the room. With a smile, he greeted you and offered you the seat opposite him as he took his own.

Sitting, your knee started to bounce while your anxiety kicked in wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Y/N- can I call you Y/N? Relax, you’re not in any trouble at all, don’t worry.”

“Can I ask then, why am I here sir?”

“Well, I actually have a job for you if you’re interested? I understand you’re in a unique position where you’re willing to do anything possible to be with the young Mr Malfoy.”

You immediately frowned, how the hell did he know that?!

“What kind of job?”

“A job to join the Order of the Phoenix. I want you to act as a spy for me within Voldemort’s ranks.”

[inglourious-imagines]

Piece Of Cake (Fred Weasley)

Summary: Fred claims that asking a girl out to the Yulle ball is a piece of cake. Harry and Ron dare him to prove it.

Prompts: fluff list: 2 - "I don't care, just hold me." & angst list: "Try to see things in my point of view." & miscellaneous list: 4 - "My mum thinks I'm dating you." (changed a bit)

Warning: angst at the beginning, some swear words, fluff at the end

Author's Note: This is for @lunalovecroft 's 1K writing challenge! Probably it was meant to be the other way around, but that idea suddenly strucked me and I decided to give it a go. Happy reading ♡

HP Taglist: @alienoresimagines @95swifi

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.

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"You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have." - F.S. Fitzgerald

All the Yulle Ball decoration were making Y/N beyond sick, every ribbon reminding her that she still did not have a date to accompany her throughout the approaching evening. Molly Weasley was so kind to send her as a gift the most beautiful dress Y/N had ever seen in her life and now she was genuinely thinking about not going to the ball at all. 

When she threw herself at the bench in the Great Hall right next to her best friend Hermione who was sitting way too far from Ron, Harry and the twins were seated. Y/N knew about the brightest witch's secret crush on the young Weasley that was slowly but surely growing into something more than just a simple crush. She'd even swear that Ron felt exactly the same about Hermione but she had to promise not to get involved or play a cupid. 

"He didn't ask, did he." Y/N dared to speak up first, glancing from Hermione's sad expression on her face to absolutely oblivious Ronald just a few metres away from them who seemed to be stuffing as much food as possible into his mouth as fast as he could. 

Y/N's eyes wandered from one Weasley to another, much taller one, who's smile was so contagious that she found herself grinning like an idiot for no particular reason.

"What do you think, Y/N." Hermione sighed bringing her back from her daydreaming, "guess he's not the only one who didn't ask, right?" 

Y/N looked at her friend again, simply nodded as she wasn't able to react in any other way. As much as she tried not to, she felt a bit disappointed when the only person she wanted to go to the Yulle ball with, hasn't asked her.

"They've been bickering for the past 15 minutes whether asking a girl out is easy or not." Hermione stated, clearly upset with the whole situation.

"Are you serious, 'Mione? What are their points of view?" 

"Well, Harry and Ron are obviously struggling to even compliment a girl in the right way but Fred reckons there's nothing easier." 

The girls look at each other and burst out laughing in the next second. "Like he'd know how to ask." Y/N managed to get out of her through her laughter, "however, I must agree with Harry and Ron. They're the most oblivious idiots." 

"Tell me about it." Hermione giggled but a trace of hurt flew over her face and Y/N suddenly felt really sorry for her dear friend. 

"Hey Y/N!" Fred shouted out of the blue, his clear voice echoed through the Great Hall causing other students to perk up their heads in order to find out what possibly he has in mind now. 

Y/N threw a look full of question marks to Hermione before turning her head to the tall red-head. "Yes?"

The moment his typical mischievous grin appeared on his face Y/N knew that something either funny and unpleasant to her or something embarrassing is about to happen.

"Will you..." Fred kept on talking as loudly as possible while wildly gesturing with his arms - apparently pretending to dance, "go to the ball..." now he was just pointing at her and him, "with me?"

Y/N's whole face turned brightly red, her nervous eyes wandering from student to student with such awaiting and amused expressions on their faces. Her heartbeat fastened in the matter of seconds that it seemed like it might jump out of her chest. Y/N looked at Hermione for help with such desperation hidden behind her gaze but her friend just simply shrugged, absolutely shocked with the sudden question, just like Y/N was.

A few seconds passed and Y/N was still sitting at her spot totally speechless. She imagined many times how Fred would ask her to the ball but never in a million years did she think it'd be like this - shouting at her in front of the whole Great Hall with absolutely no sign of sincerity or romance; to her it seemed like some sort of a bet to prove his point.

Their eyes for a moment and Y/N realized that Fred was convinced that she's going to accept his offer, confidence was basically radiating off of him. She knew he's not bragging, Fred was one of the kindest people she'd ever met but sometimes, sometimes he just wasn't able to estimate the situation. 

Anger was slowly bottling up in her as she quickly stood up grabbing all her books. As much as it hurt her to say it, Y/N was still able to straighten up looking directly into his eyes. "Sorry, Weasley, not interested. But thanks for the offer, I feel flattered." The sarcasm in her voice was more than obvious. 

Y/N winked at Hermione, rightly feeling satisfied with her as she heard a few laughs from many students when she walked out of the Great Hall leaving absolutely speechless and embarrassed Fred Weasley. 

•••

Y/N rushed into her dormitory, not wanting to deal with anybody at the moment as the anger was slowly transforming into hurt. This wasn't what she imagined.

She threw herself at her bed; her books were casted off on the ground, papers flying all over the place.

"Y/N! Wait!" a muffled voice of the too familiar Weasley filled her ears and before she knew it, Fred was standing in the middle of her dormitory with flushed cheeks due to the long run, doors slammed shut behind him. 

"Let me explain." he almost begged taking a few steps towards her. She quickly got on her feet as she shook with her head couple of times. "Please, no. I don't care if your intentions were the noblest, but it happened and that's it."

"If you could just let me talk."

But Y/N didn't see the regret in Fred's eyes, or how his hands trembled a little bit, she was way too furious to notice all these things.

"Try to see things from my point of view, Weasley! You basically shouted at me in front of the whole school if I want to go to the ball with you! I understand that you just wanted to prove something to Ron and Harry but this is not a game for me."

Every single word that left her mouth went straight to Fred's heart. He never in a million years intended to hurt Y/N, he'd rather suffer himself than have something happen to her. But he was scared, Fred felt truly terrified of asking her out and when the boys confronted him about it, he panicked. He didn't have an idea why he reacted that way. The pounding heart, sweaty palms, the hotness in his cheeks - all this was new to Fred Weasley and he wasn't sure what do to with his stormy emotions.

"I'm real sorry, Y/N. I didn't want to offend you but that doesn't mean I don't stand behind what I said earlier." he tried to ease the tense in the small room, his lips even formed into a cute little innocet smile.

"I don't know, Weasley. I simply think-"

"Let me make it up to you! The ball's tomorrow, just say yes."

Then they were there - Fred's puppy eyes that no matter how serious the problem was, Y/N wasn't able to bring herself to say no. She knew he's very well aware of that fact, he somehow managed to melt her heart.

"Fine. I'll go to the Yulle ball with you, Weasley. Don't make me regret it."

"I can certainly promise you that, Y/L/N."

•••

Y/N was nervously pacing in her new white dress that she got from Mrs. Weasley while Hermione was watching her with an amused expression.

"You know, this isn't funny." she frowned but a part of her was telling her how unreasonably ridiculous she is.

"Actually it is," her best friend couldn't held back the laughter, "you'll be fine. I bet he's even more nervous than you are." 

"Hermione! His mum thinks I'm bloody dating him!" 

"That's just so perfect. Maybe you will be after tonight."

Their eyes met for a moment and then, as if their minds were connected, the girls started giggling like some 13-year-olds. Y/N finally relaxed a bit, just like Hermione did, as they both promised themselves to look after each other during the evening.

"So what do you think?" Y/N winked at her friend, "shall we?"

"Absolutely."

•••

The duo walked together down the stairs leading to the dance hall, side by side, both of them smiling widely. Y/N found Fred's tall figure right away as he was nervously pacing back and forth mumbling something under his breath while George watched him amused. Just like Hermione watched her a couple minutes ago. God, how similar they could be.

"Well done, brother dear. Fucking well done." George whispered into his twin's ear tapping his shoulder. Fred's gaze immediately landed on approaching Y/N making him stop in his tracks. George just smirked and left with his own date to give them some privacy.

Fred was closely watching her every step, how elegantly she carried herself through the room, the beautiful white dress flew around her making her look like an angel descending from the sky. 

"Blimey, I don't think I've ever seen something so beautiful like you." Fred breathed out, his eyes roaming all over her body.

"You don't look too bad as well, Weasley." Y/N blushed at his compliment as she sent him one nervous smile. The truth was, he looked way more better than just 'not bad' and she had to remind herself not to stare at him too much. He pulled her into his side, his scent and warmth immediately embracing her, and she found herself falling for this dangerously good looking red-head. 

"Everybody's turning their heads after you. I swear I even saw a smile on Snape's face." Fred pointed out, his voice filled with obvious jealousy as his grip on her waist tightened. 

"I don't care, just hold me, Fred." Y/N gave him a reassuring smile taking his hand in his, "just hold me."

"I never wanted anything more."