#ron weasley my oblivious beloved

[daddiesdrarryy]

Ron: Hey, guys, Zabini is doing that thing again

Harry: What thing?

Ron: He just handed me a new chessboard and told me to have a nice day! How weird is that? He’s been doing this for months and I don’t know what he’s trying to do!

Hermione: You don’t know why, Ron?

Ron: I just think he’s being all weird like Slytherins are. Like Draco constantly bickering with Harry and Pansy constantly teasing you, you know, before you got together! Right?

Hermione: Okay, so let me get this straight, you are sitting here with a new chessboard from Blaise, eating chocolates that Blaise bought for you, and a pie Blaise made for you, wearing pajamas that Blaise got for you, and you are…wondering what he is trying to do?

Ron, chewing on a mouthful of pie: I know! How weird is he!

Harry: …I’m less oblivious than this, right?

Hermione: Debatable

[captivousfest]

Captivous 2024 Masterlist View the AO3 collection here

Again! A HUGE thank you to all authors and artists for your work and participation and excitement! May Tom, Harry, and Voldemort continue to be captured, and captivate you!

Rated G

My Real Target... It's You by @evadne01 (HadrianPeverellBlack) Words: 627 Tags: Royal Prince Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Young Tom Riddle, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Obsessive Tom Riddle, Knight Harry Potter, POV Harry Potter, Good Harry Potter, Kidnapped Tom Riddle but not really, Kidnapped Harry Potter, Obsession, Kidnapping, Rescue Missions, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Harry comes to rescue the lost prince Tom from the cursed tower of Lord Voldemort! (But little does he know that this was all a ploy to capture and cage the real jewel, Harry himself.)

Forgotten not Foresaken by @Laserswordtraining Words: 9,279 Tags: Death (Harry Potter), Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Obliviated Voldemort, Amnesia, horcrux reabsorption, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Old man Tom Riddle, Blind Harry Potter, Kidnapped Harry Potter, Happily Ever After Summary: Voldemort wakes, not having any memory or any idea who he is, and determined to figure it out, the only thing he finds familiar is the name Harry Potter. Knowing he has something to do with it, Voldemort kidnaps him, but it turns out Harry has lost something too.

The Dalmatian Captivation by @Laserswordtraining Words: 7,112 Tags: misc characters that have been made to play animals that assist :), Alternate Universe - 101 Dalmatians Fusion, woah thats a tag already??, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Fluff, dognapping, no puppies were harmed in the making of this fic, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, as in he's the fashionista Cruella De Vil, Musician Ron Weasley, rescue dog harry potter, 99 puppies and a bitch ain't one, If they're not a literal dog they are still wizards, no animagi here Summary: Dalmatian Harry and his owner/best mate Ron Weasley live a simple life, but Harry's got a plan for more when he sees another Dalmatian out the window with a lady who looks like Ron would agree she'd be worth leaving the flat for. But when Harry has a litter of puppies and Hermione's old boss gets wind of it, his beloved Tom bares his teeth knowing they need to be careful of him. This follows the plot of the original 1961 animated film, and includes a happy collection of wizarding characters as animals of all sorts that help Tom and Harry get all 99 puppies back to central London.

Art:

Death leaves him with you, master by @00queasy00 Words: 226 The soul of Lord Voldemort has been giving Death a hard time. It is time to look for another to watch over the relentless soul in its stead.

Restraint Not Included by @laserswordtraining Words: 37 Its Voldemort/Tom. In Android form. His coding is ""incorrect"" and they are trying to fix him or else they would be wasting millions of dollars. Its torture for Tom/Voldemort but to the humans its just noise (bc he is tech). Harry takes it home and keeps it/saves it because he is too empathetic. They were totally trying to fix him because he is a psychopath that is now obsessed with Harry.

Rated Teen

Kidnapping is a State of Mind by @apocalypsewallflower(dystopianRebel) Words: 1,586 Tags:Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mixed Eras, Alternate Universe – Tom Riddle in Golden Trio Era, Tom Riddle in Golden Trio Era, Mentioned Ominis Gaunt, Mentioned Remus Lupin, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Unclarified Year, Unclarified Quidditch World Cup, Wool’s Orphanage, Kidnapping, joke, Kinda, They would’ve still done it though, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Found Family Summary: Harry Potter won’t let his best friend continue being alone any longer, no matter how many blood-related family members turn him away.

Yoink by @liquidluckandstuff Words: 2,763 Summary: Voldemort flying around the city because why not, maybe he's trying to clear is head. Only to spot Harry Potter and immediately just yoinks him off the sidewalk

Let's Never Wake Up (Stay with Me) by @blackseatwenty (SquibNation10) Words: 10,255 Tags: Based on the movie Inception Inception, Movie Inspired, Dreams, Trapped in a Dream, Fanart, This story grew without my consent, Harry and Tom are both teenagers, Time Travel bit, Harry has to save the world using dreams, Dumbledore's idea not mine, The Ministry of Magic is Incompetent (Harry Potter), Tom is Kidnapped Summary: Voldemort declared war on the Ministry at the exact moment a young Tom Riddle was found and kept in the Ministry of Magic. Unsure what to do, they put him in a magically induced sleep. How do they change their present without disrupting their future? They send Harry Potter to convince Tom to change his past- using his dream.

Art:

Only Sweet, Sugary Death by @laserswordtraining Inspired by the movie Jawbreaker, fem!Tom kidnaps fem!Harry for her birthday but it goes wrong

Rated Mature

a pound of flesh by @ictyn (hpwrbowdm)) Words: 8,907 Chapter 1/? Tags: Blood and Gore (It's bad), Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Necromancy, Slow Burn, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Body Horror, Alternate Universe - Goblet of Fire, Under the Influence of Horcruxes, Rituals, Chronic Pain, Captivity, burn injury, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Master of Death Harry Potter, Snake-Like Voldemort (Harry Potter), grave robbing, Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, Medical Experimentation, Keeping The Chosen One in a Jar in your Office, Bottom Storage, Whump, Minor Character Death Summary: One mistake causes irreparable damage. Harry Potter, Fourth Triwizard Champion, falls in the first task. He is injured past the point of survivability but for some reason he simply cannot die. Harry is taken to St. Mungo's where he's subjected to painful and humiliating experimental healing techniques. Robbed of his voice, he wishes for nothing but to be put out of his misery. Meanwhile, despite the sorry state of his fated enemy, Lord Voldemort wants Harry Potter for his resurrection ritual. Whatever power tethers the boy to life-Voldemort must possess it. Harry, helpless and trapped in his body, is entirely at the mercy of his nemesis. And Lord Voldemort, who never backs down from a challenge, becomes obsessed with solving the problem of Harry Potter once and for all. He will do the impossible-not destroy the boy, no, but remake him.

Rated Explicit (read those tags folks)

Catch Me (I know you can) by @blackseatwenty (SquibNation10) Words: 2,837 Tags: Kidnapping, Chasing, role play kink, Explicit Sex, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, Rope Bondage Summary: If Voldemort is after you, what can you do but run?

Fate's Coffin by @noxxytocin Words: 4,538 Chapters: 1/3 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, 10 years after the battle of hogwarts, Mystery, Not a Time Travel AU, Tension, Abduction, Fluff, Comfort, there's some hetero mention in the beginning but I promise this is a queer fic, Harry and Tom are gay, Harry is dramatic and whiny, Tom could care less, Sexuality Conflict, Hostage Situation, Power Dynamics, Manipulation, Magical Asphyxiation, there's porn eventually I promise, Feel the Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers Summary: Harry Potter’s life is finally smooth sailing—he’s dating Ginny, the wizarding world is rebuilding, and he’s a top Auror. But at the 10th-anniversary celebration, just as he’s about to give a heartfelt speech, the unexpected happens: Harry is snatched away and later finds himself in a place as grim as its master. Trapped and facing a fate more dreadful than he could imagine, Harry’s life is about to be turned entirely on its head.

Thin Skin by @iseliljathedreamer (Iselilja) Words: 6,428 Chapters: 2/5 Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Snake-Like Voldemort (Harry Potter), Body Horror, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Relationship, Post-Canon, Foot Fetish, not super weird I promise, This fic is mostly porn ngl porn and pain, Chronic Pain, Domestic, Porn With Plot Summary: Prompt: Harry wins AU and keeps Voldemort locked and hidden in his house in exchange for not destroying the horcrux in his scar. The war ended. Not with death and destruction. Not with treaties and parlays. Not with exhaustion or ceasefires. It ended with an agreement in the quiet darkness of the Chamber of Secrets, deep in the earth below the raging battle. A conditional surrender where the most powerful wizard alive signed his freedom away for 100 years to a boy of 17 armed with a basilisk tooth and a putrid, poisoned pool, in exchange for secrecy and eternal life. But that was years ago now. Harry thought he'd never get used to having Voldemort living in his house, but he did. Time is a miracle-worker beyond all human comprehension, and yet, there are wounds it is yet to heal. Quite literally.

And all the devils are here by @i-dream-of-libraries (evaleon70) Words: 6,550 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Forced Orgasm, Fucking Machines, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Captive Voldemort, Voldemort in bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Mercy for One's Enemy, Horcrux Bond, ScarCrux | The Piece of Voldemort's Soul in Harry Potter's Scar, Sex Toys, Frottage, Really just an excuse to hook Voldemort up to a penis milking device, Felix Felicis | Liquid Luck Potion (Harry Potter), Snake-Like Voldemort (Harry Potter) Summary: Voldemort has finally pushed his Death Eaters too far with his bloodlust, and they find an unconventional way to fight against him. Harry witnesses what they're doing to the Dark Lord through the horcrux bond and should really just leave his old enemy to his fate… he doesn't.

Reset my patient violence (you know my desire) by @i-dream-of-libraries (evaleon70) Words: 13,326 Tags: Alternate Universe - Grishaverse Fusion, Porn With Plot, Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Dark Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Dream Sex, Shadows used as tentacles, Captive Harry, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Come as Lube, First Time, Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Biting, Somnophilia, Bottom Harry, Top Tom Riddle Summary: Prompt fill for Captivous fest: Grishaverse AU where Tom is The Darkling and Harry is The Sun Summoner. The Darkling has waited hundreds of years for his Sun Summoner, and he won't let him escape now. or How Tom will have Harry in any universe, to the possible ruin of all.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Huh, I think you might be a bit hard on Hermione. Generally speaking I mean.

1. Is it really that surprising that Hermione had kids young, so much that it needs to be addressed in this TV show? In wizarding world it's very common to marry and have kids young, since they finish all their school duties at 18/19 and get a job after. So she would have had about 8 years of work experience before she became pregnant. And the whole "she's not family oriented" is also exaggerated and not really true. She clearly enjoys the Burrow chaos just as Harry since she's always there and she obviously loves her parents, even with the questionable Obliviate thing. You're acting like Hermione is some kind of robot. If your personal headcanon is that she's not family oriented..well that's another thing.

2. The canaries thing is obviously not good. Great! Meaning Hermione has flaws, she's not perfect and the readers/audience know this. But ..haha why do Harry and Ginny need to TALK about it so obviously as if the audience are some idiots who can't figure it out on their own.? That's a very beloved rule in movie making - you don't TELL something obvious to audience, let them think for themselves. And it's not like what Hermione did here was something horrible (and I say this as a Ron defender lol). It's pretty vanilla compared to some other weird stuff in HP (the exposing of Snape's underwear and possibly genitals, Harry's crucio, Fred and George's love potion.... So many weirdness) PS. It's not like Ginny would actually care about Ron here to be angry at Hermione. This the book where Ron and Ginny didn't get along and realistically speaking Ginny would've probably snorted or laughed if she heard that Hermione set the canaries on Ron. (Isn't that Ginny's thing - she appreciates dark humor or something like that..?)

So yeah, I think what's really going on here is that Hermione gets on your nerves and maybe that's why you exaggerate her flaws and have sceptical (almost negative) thoughts about her. Which is fine, but it's weird that these 'problems' that you have with Hermione... weirdly enough Ginny is guilty of having them too and yet you never mention these problems with Ginny. What was it that you criticized Hermione for? - being unrealistically capable and not showing flaws towards the end of the series? Not showing enough development? Having kids young? Having a mean streak and being too harsh sometimes and the fans still love you? That's BOTH Hermione and Ginny, my friend xD

Oh, God.

Thinking that not being family oriented means hating your family or being a robot might be a you problem. More and more people nowadays are not family oriented, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. Hermione repetedely chooses to not spend time with her parents. Her liking going to the Burrow simply means she likes spending time with Ron, generally likes the Weasleys and it's not uncomfortable around a lot of people. And, I absolutely do not care if there are eight years between the end of the war and when she starts having children. She is not a real person, she is a character. What you put in the Epilogue needs to be coherent with what you have told until that point.

Hermione having flaws is not a problem, it's a great thing. Those flaws never being addressed narratevely is the problem. If in no way you adress the fact that what Hermione did is wrong, you are sending the message that what she did was right. If you as the reader percive it as wrong, that's good because critical thinking requires you while reading a book that you absorb the facts but question the interpretation of the author and see if the two things are coherent. Since the fourth book, with Hermione's character there's a divergence between how the narrative wants you to percive her and how she actually behaves, and it progressively gets worse. She never pays the consequences of her own wrongdoing. Which is why after your first reading of HBP you probably are going to think Hermione was competely right and Ron was a jerk, especially if you are a child. It's about the message that it's being sent. And yes, Ginny has flaws too, and that's great, and those are very much adressed. She hexes Smith, she calls Slughorn mad for not putting her in detention. She attacks Smith after the match, and it's hilarious, objectively speaking, but McGonagall still very much yells at her. She mocks Fleur, she admits she was wrong about her by the end of the book. It's not about characters having flaws, characters need to have flaws, it's about the message the story is sending. And, about Ginny not being angry at the canaries, I'm gonna guess you don't have siblings. One of the main rules of having siblings is that you can destroy them but if anyone else dares looking at them the wrong way, that person will die.

The canaries were just an example of one of the many very ugly things Hermione does and that are never addressed as such. What makes that specific episode particulary ugly is that she does it against someone she is supposed to love.

Ginny is not unrealistically capable. She is a powerful witch, that's a natural thing, it doesn't need development, and it's shown since the second book. It's also shown she takes her studies seriously by the way. If you are referring to Quidditch, she trains herself since she is six, what's unrealistic about her being good at it? It's also shown she is not as good of a seeker as she is a chaser. Also, I never said Hermione is unrealistically capable (are you referring to me saying she gets jobs she shouldn't be good at according to the books? That's just an objective thing). I mean, in DH she does things that she shouldn't be able to do out of nowhere, but in general, there's nothing particulary impressive in Hermione's abilities. The narrative desperately tries to make you think she is a genius by making everyone call her that but she just reads a lot of academic material and she is a bit smarter than average, there's nothing weird about that.

Ginny having kids young is extremely realistic??? She is very attached to her family, she is impulsive, and she grew up in a family of seven siblings, I'm surprised none of the Weasleys siblings had seven children of their own.

How can Ginny lack development? She is a character built on progression. She has the most structured development along with Harry. Her whole story is this progressive climb out of the shadow. She becomes the person she needed as a little girl, her helping the injured girl on the grounds is a parallel to her being the girl on the ground in the Chamber. She frees herself of her family need to protect her but still reconciles with her mother. If you are talking about her being well-rounded, Ginny checks out all the boxes in Karen S. Wiesner scheme which is the most detailed one for controlling the development of a character.

If you think I've never said Ginny can be mean or harsh, you have never read this blog. But it's adressed already by the story. There's a whole arc about it in HBP.

If I want to spend my days praising Ginny, I can. This blog is not a democracy. It's very much a dictatorship.

Ginny is loved since when?

I am not your friend :)

[sitp-recs]

The Trouble with Wanting by @waldorph

Harry/Draco (2021, Explicit, 60k)

Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges; this is what happens next.

He rolled over and stared out the window at the trees of the park, the light of the city leaking through their boughs, before turning his attention to the storm on his arm finally calming. It was art, and beautiful, and nothing a Malfoy should have. Pure blooded heirs were meant to be pristine in all ways, virginal and unmarred and what had it gotten any of them? This was his, and he was free, and 18, and he had taken his own body back. He wasn’t anyone’s to offer up as penance, he never would be again. Whatever else, he was his own person.

I have @teacup-tai, who knows me so well, to thank for this incredible rec! Immediate post-war has remained one of my favorite tropes over the years - I lost count of how many times I screamed about Waiting by an Open Door, my go-to comfort read - and I’m really happy Tai sent this my way, another brilliant Draco POV crafted to attack me on personal levels because I’m that predictable. I’m amazed by the author’s - who I wasn’t familiar with before reading this - captivating narrative: immersive and witty while being very fun and sweet.

Draco’s voice is an absolute treat and his sense of humor seduced me right away. He’s earnest but posh, bratty but kind, alternating between moments of sharp wit, vulnerability, confusion and not-so-controlled pining. He feels very much like an 18yo kid who’s finally starting to live his life and making choices by himself for a change, good 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 him 👏🏻 I had a blast following his post-war routine: the hilarious and nuanced dynamics with the Silver Trio (Blaise my beloved has such an unique voice, different from what we usually see in fic which I found refreshing!), Draco’s casual affair and sexual experimentation with Theo, the happenstance (is it though 😌) of his meetings with Harry and the growing intense attraction between them. The slow burn is particularly satisfying and I’m also fascinated by two minor plot points: the first is Draco’s relationship with Simon - the parlour owner aka Drarry matchmaker - and the story behind their tattoos. It’s so interesting to think they somehow connect Draco and Harry while being 100% about their past, identity and interests. The other concept I really love is the long-term curse damage by Sectumsempra, what a fascinating idea! Love me some dramaH and body worship, please and thank.

This is definitely the fic for you if you’re looking for: oblivious Harry with no respect for personal space! Sentient murderer Grimmauld! Blaise’s relatable thirst for Weasleys! And my fave Ron & Draco brOTP 🙌 also the usual mutual pining and sexy UST with lots of touching and dancing around each other, we love to see it. Harry’s a force of nature, earnest, smooth and slightly unhinged, he’s openly crazy for Draco and really fun to read, a charming counterpart to Draco’s (attempted) composed self. A minor - but very important note: the smut is deliciously hot and self-indulgent, I’m here for feral Harry leaving Draco breathless with want oof, their first time is so so sexy but also endearingly light and fun (“So you’re essentially holding your dick hostage on a name” lmao the nerve!!!). For all their banter and sass this is a really sweet get together, full of joy and wonder, it made me really soft for them.

Beyond the top notch humor and romance, this story also explores organically Harry’s post-war struggles to find a place and purpose. I always appreciate it when Harry’s inner conflict with his Auror job is addressed and we get to see him finding another path to happiness, with Draco’s encouragement. This has become one of my favourite recent reads about the post-war, 18yo Drarry is not my usual brand but boy, they’re incredibly charming and this story made me laugh, tear up, and reflect back on my (long gone 🥲) late teen years. Lastly, don’t let the fic length scare you! This is a smooth and quick read, doesn’t feel like 60k at all. Happy Friday!

Read on AO3

[glasschampagne]

Fantasies

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Word Count: 1.9 k

Warnings: like one swear word, reader dissociates.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Harry, and a request by @oyasumimosura I hope it lives up to your imagination love, Y/n is not quite as innocent as you asked, but I hope you still like it.

(Request: Hi, I was wondering if you could do Harry Potter x reader? Where The reader likes Harry but she can’t tell him because (y/n) knows that Harry likes Cho, still (y/n) was a loyal friend to Harry. In the fifth year, Umbridge interrogates (y/n) by torturing her just to reveal what Harry’s been up to. But (y/n) didn’t reveal any causing Umbridge to slap her so hard, (y/n) copes up the pain with her “happy place” where she imagined herself being with Harry at the yule ball and they were happy together. Which, (y/n) is the only one who could last longer when there's tortures.)

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Ever since he had first defeated Voldemort as a baby, Harry Potter had been praised by the entirety of the Wizarding Society.

But after Voldemort had risen from the dead, those praises became threats. Harry was deemed insane. Only a handful of people still believed in him. Only a handful of people were willing to fight for him. And one of those people was Y/N Y/L.

When she met him, both merely first years, she had been impressed by his uncommon sassy attitude. An intense desire to be his friend had bloomed inside her. And she had accomplished that. But then, friendship had turned into the need to grab him by the shirt, kiss him senselessly, and call him hers. She had not accomplished that. And she knew she probably never would.

See, Harry was deeply infatuated by Cho Chang. She was older, smart, and incredibly gorgeous. Her appeal was undeniable. She was also Cedric Diggory´s ex-girlfriend, and there was yet to be a man who could compare to him.

As his friend, Y/N was determined to support Harry through the hardships of unrequited love. Although maybe his affections weren’t so unrequited anymore…

She watched Harry help his beloved cast a Patronus. One hand on her waist, the other softly guiding her hand as they murmured the incantation together. Maybe there was a man who could compete with Diggory’s memory.

“You need to stop torturing yourself like this Y/n/n”

She turned to face her friend, Ron Weasley, brotherly concern plastered all over his face.

Ron had found out about her crush on Harry the previous year. The bloke was much more emotionally intelligent than people credited him for.

“Would you like to duel? Competition always cheers you up” he beamed.

Ron had always succeeded in lifting her spirits. But this time was different. This time, Y/N realized she had really lost Harry.

“I don’t really feel like duelling. But honestly, you’re right” she admitted “I need to stop causing myself more pain. I’ll just take a walk to distract himself”

Ron let her go, nodding softly. He loved Harry like a brother, but he worried his obliviousness would end up shattering Y/N’s very spirit.

She left the Room of Requirements, where the Dumbledore’s Army meetings were taking place, and checked for tails before walking away. She was planning on wandering the halls, daydreaming about a universe where Harry loved her. But she didn’t get very far. Just as she turned a corner, she came face to face with Draco Malfoy. Annoying git he was.

“Oh, if it isn’t Potter’s lapdog” he spat.

“Shove off you little ferret” she replied as she tried to dodge him.

“Take it back!” he demanded “I am not a ferret!”

“Oh sorry, was it a squirrel then?” she mocked him.

Oh, how easy it was to rile him up. Malfoy gritted his teeth and drew out his wand. She mirrored him. If Malfoy wanted to curse her, she wouldn’t let him do so without a fight. Harry had taught her that.

“Attacking fellow students Miss Y/L?” a honeyed voice spoke behind her.

She turned around. Standing there, in all her nasty glory, was the pink toad Hogwarts had learnt to call Professor. Professor Umbridge.

“I see Mr. Potter’s barbarian ways have stuck to his acquaintances” she cooed.

“He is not a barbarian!” Y/n/n replied, unable to contain herself. “He is a brave boy, who’s gone through way too much: but still insists on saving everyone” she continued, her voice growing firmer and more confident with every word that left her lips. “He wants to fight for what’s right, even when you, pompous arseholes in the Ministry insist on denying the truth!”

Umbridge just grinned maliciously. She had just been insulted to her face, and she seemed…pleased.

“Oh Miss Y/L, I didn’t know you to be this…passionate”

Her voice sent chills down Y/N’s spine, but she did her best to strongly stand her ground.

“And I didn’t know you to be so closely acquainted with Mr. Potter either” the woman finalized.

That couldn’t be a good sign. Y/n/n knew it, and she was terrified. This woman had more power than anyone else in Hogwarts, and every piece of information she learned became a weapon in her hands.

“Malfoy, take her to my office”

That moment, Y/n/n knew she was doomed. She had heard of the woman’s methods to extract information. Now, the battle was to take place in the depths of her mind.

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Back in the Room of Requirements, Cho Chang had mastered a perfectly corporeal Patronus. She had kissed Harry’s cheek, praising his teaching abilities. Harry smiled like a buffoon and made his way towards his friends. He couldn’t wait to tell them that Cho bloody Chang had just kissed his cheek. Ron would pat him in the back and congratulate him. Hermione would probably tell him to be more discrete with such topics. Y/n/n would smile warmly at him. Y/n/n would hug him and tell him he was indeed a wonderful teacher. Y/n/n would tell him how proud she was, filling his heart with warmth. Y/n/n… where the hell was Y/n/n?

“Ron!” he called “Where is Y/n/n?”

“Oh, she went for a walk” he shrugged, clearly not seeing an issue.

“Malfoy’s doing rounds today” Harry stated, his gaze frozen in no specific direction as he processed the implications of his declaration.

A bad feeling began clouding his senses, worrying him immensely.

“We need to find her” he ordered “Now”

“I’ll get the Map” Ron said, alarmed by the sudden shift in his mate’s demeanour. “Mione, go with Harry”

The trio split, knowing they were fighting against the clock. They knew Y/N was strong, but no one was stronger than unforgivable curses and Veritaserum.

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“For the last time, Miss Y/L” Umbridge said “What kind of information has Mr. Potter shared with you?”

Y/N was panting. She had just discovered how skilled the woman was with dehydration hexes. Her body felt weak, as if she might faint. But she wasn’t a stubborn Gryffindor for nothing.

“And for the last time Professor” she spat “We only ever talk about Quidditch. Wanna hear about the Cannons?”

Umbridge lost it and slapped her across the face. It shouldn’t have been so painful, but her weakened body could barely take it. Harry she remembered. She was staying strong for Harry.

Too bad he would never know how devoted she was. He was probably still in the Room of Requirements, doing his best to woo Cho. He was probably staring at her gorgeous figure that very moment. Just like he had done the previous year at the Yule ball.

Y/N had been dying to dance with Harry. But he had paid her no mind. Sometimes she liked to daydream about actually having the chance. Wear a beautiful dress, and spin around the Hall curled in Harry’s arms.

With that thought in mind, Y/N allowed her mind to follow the fantasy. She allowed that beautiful daydream to take her away from her reality. She felt so peaceful, she couldn’t even hear Umbridge’s complaints and demands anymore. She could only feel the arms of her beloved, twirling her in his arms. Twirling, twirling and twirling into the depths of her subconscious.

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Harry was losing it. He couldn’t find her. She was probably in danger, and he couldn’t find her. He knew it was his fault.

Despite his hero complex, Harry knew he couldn’t protect everyone. But Y/N wasn’t just anyone. She was his friend, but in a completely different way than Ron or Hermione. She knew how to help him calm down, and cheer him up. She made him feel safe. She made him feel like he could be vulnerable.

But when she had been vulnerable roaming the halls alone, he hadn’t protected her. He had been too busy flirting with a girl —that no matter how wonderful she was—, could never compete with Y/N. His Y/N.

“Harry!”

He turned around. Ron was running up to him, clearly agitated.

“Found her on the map” he panted, trying to catch his breath “Umbridge’s got her”

Ron couldn’t even blink before Harry stormed away. He took Hermione’s hand, and together they ran after their friend.

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how she had gotten out. When she awoke from the beautiful fantasy that kept her strong, Umbridge was nowhere to be seen. In her place stood Vincent Crabbe, watching her. She hated the bloke, and she hated his mocking over her trapped form. She did remember punching him in the nose. It was a pleasant memory.

She walked down the halls in a confused state, trying to find the way to her Common Room.

“Y/n/n!” she heard.

She turned to see her friend Hermione Granger running up to her. Hermione engulfed her into a hug, and she returned it a couple of seconds later.

“Are you alright?” she cried.

“Yeah” she replied “Just a little disorient—”

“Your hand is all bloodied!” Hermione almost shrieked, cutting Y/N mid-sentence.

“Blimey, there’s a splatter on your face too” Ron commented, showing up next to Hermione.

He didn’t sound as stressed as Hermione, and she could tell as well.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine” Y/N said, trying to reassure them before Hermione began scolding Ron for not being more concerned about it.

The horror on her friend’s faces would have been comical in different circumstances.

“It’s Crabbe’s” she explained “I broke his nose on my way out. They left him to watch me”

“What?” she looked up to the voice. Harry.

Despite looking dishevelled from just catching up with his friends, he was as dashing as in her fantasies.

“Ronald, walk me to the library” Hermione said, breaking the silence and tugging Ron’s arm. He followed without a word of complaint.

Now they were alone. Just Harry and Y/N. Y/N and Harry.

“I didn’t give her any information” she said after noticing his concerned expression.

“Wasn’t worried about that” he replied, slowly taking her bloodied hand in his. “But I’m impressed you didn’t, that woman’s methods…you look exhausted Y/n/n”

His voice seemed to break for a moment. She squeezed his hand. Reassuring Harry was the only thing in her mind.

“It wasn’t that hard…concealing the information I mean” she blurted out, not really thinking about the kind of information she was revealing “I just…slipped into my fantasies” she confessed.

“Fantasies?” he repeated.

“Fantasies of you and I” she admitted “Dancing. Hugging. Holding hands…Touching lips”

She no longer cared if he found out about her secret adoration. Actually, at that moment, she thought he ought to know he had saved her. He had to know he was the reason she didn’t break.

Harry was speechless. Did she...?

“Sorry” she quickly apologized, seeing as he hadn’t said a word to her practically babbling her heart out “I know it may sound mental…”

Harry cut her apology short by placing his hands on her cheeks. He softly caressed her face with his thumb. Even with an expression of utter confusion, she still managed to be the most beautiful person in his eyes.

“The only thing that’s mental” he whispered “Is that we’re not making your fantasies a reality right now”

She looked at him. He looked at her. There was silent communication between their gazes, a vow that claimed I love you.

And with that, they melted into each other. Dancing, hugging, holding hands…and touching lips.

[wlntrsldler]

hey!! love ur writings so far, could i request you belong with me with fred weasley? thanks! <3

PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Fred realizes that he loves Y/N after seeing her so close to George. 

WC: 2.6K+ words

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

you belong with me (f.w one shot)

“Sorry,” you mumbled, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of your nose as you collided into someone’s chest. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the ginger boy to the right of you, flashing his toothy grin at Angelina. She laughed at his joke, brushing against his arm in a flirty manner. Your heart fell apart at the sight, almost making you want to crush your glasses under your foot to prevent you from seeing anymore. But it was too late— the image was already burned into your mind. 

“Y/N,” the voice called, waving a hand in front of your face. 

Suddenly, you were pulled back to reality. You looked up at the person you ran into, flustered that you completely forgot their existence. George. You visibly relaxed, shoulders rolling back into a less tense state, “Sorry, Georgie.”

“Fred, again?” he asked, a sympathetic look on his face as he watched you stare at his older twin longingly. George took some of the books you had pressed against your chest, helping you carry the weight of the stress that occupied your mind. “Will you ever tell him how you feel?”

At his words, your eyes widened. You shook your head furiously, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, as you bounced up and down on your toes. You gulped, looking back at the older twin, who left his earlier spot and was no nowhere to be found. You frowned, “Never, Georgie. He’s my best friend and I wouldn’t want to mess that up.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, faking a look of hurt on his face, “I’ll pretend you didn’t just call him your best friend when I’m right here-”

“You know what I mean.”

“As I was saying,” he shot you an annoyed look for interrupting him before he continued. “He may be my brother and your best friend but you’re my best friend too, Y/N. I’d rather not watch my best friend get hurt over and over again.” 

You sighed, lifting your glasses up to rub your tired eyes, “It’s not worth it. I’d rather stay like this and keep Fred in my life than mess up what we have because of my stupid feelings.” 

George rolled his eyes, wanting to somehow find a way to convince you to tell his twin how you felt, but when he saw your face drop at the sight of Fred and Angelina in a lip lock, he decided to move on from the topic. He wrapped a protective arm around you, leading you to the other side of the castle. “Come on, Y/N. There’s nothing for you to see here.” 

The day continued to drag on with everyone whispering about their excitement for the Yule Ball. You tried your hardest not to roll your eyes at the constant gushing from the girls you passed about their dates. George chuckled beside you, copying the scowl on your face, and gagging as Hermione and Ginny talked about their dates. 

You looked up at him as you sat down next to each other, “Who are you going with, Georgie?”

“No idea,” he replied, “Wanna be my date?” 

“George Weasley, do not take me as your date because you pity me.” 

“Hey, I’m sure I’d have more fun with you than with any other girl I may ask,” he argued, nudging you with his elbow. “What do you say, Y/N? Let’s show my dumber and less attractive twin what he’s missing out on.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, unable to stop the smile that appeared on your face. “Can’t wait.” 

George saw you like a sister— almost like Ginny. He wanted to protect you and make sure you were alright, that nobody could hurt you. It just happened to be that it was his daft and dear twin brother to be the perpetrator. He saw this one coming, really. Growing up together, he saw the way you and Fred always had a special connection. It wasn’t until you began to understand your feelings did you stray closer to him than Fred. He took pride in being the more sensitive brother, more observant than the older one, so he always made sure he was there to pick up the pieces after everything happened, like a brother would. 

George caught onto your feelings for his brother a few years ago when he saw you staring at him a bit too long for it to be friendly. For years he watched you pine after Fred, too afraid to face rejection or to lose your friendship to say anything. If it were up to George, he would lock you and Fred in a room together until you confessed to him how you felt or until Fred got his head out of his arse long enough to figure it out himself. But he knew it wasn’t up to him so he had to go through the pain of watching his two bestest friends in the world run around in circles. It’s pathetic if you asked him. 

You weren’t exactly discrete with your feelings. You were sure all of the Weasleys— Charlie included, who hasn’t seen you since you were 13 when he took a break from tending for his beloved dragons, choosing to visit the Burrow for the summer— caught on to your affections, apart from Fred. Molly would often assign the both of you to do chores together. Even Harry, the most oblivious person you’ve ever met in your life, knew of your feelings for Fred. 

You’ve come to the conclusion that nobody could be that clueless. Fred was simply ignoring your feelings so he didn’t have to be the one to break your heart. 

-

The night of the Yule Ball was equally magical as it was confusing for Fred. You descended from the steps, looking gorgeous as ever, snatching the breath of everyone who awaited at the bottom. George beamed proudly at you, eyes twinkling as he watched you strut down with confidence. Fred’s back was turned, not seeing your entrance as he was too busy chatting with his date. You didn’t expect any less from him— he was a gentleman. 

It wasn’t until Ron spoke up did Fred finally turn around to look at you. Ron’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, “Blimey, Y/N, when did you get so fit?”

When Fred turned around, his jaw fell to the floor. It was like everyone else disappeared. Angelina’s chatter was reduced to white noise. The sound of the music from inside the Yule Ball was faint. All he could focus on was you. 

Ron has a point, Fred thought. 

You looked absolutely gorgeous. The color of your dress complimented your skin so well. You looked so mature, no longer the shy girl that he and his brother took a liking to. You were Y/N. And Godric, you were absolutely breathtaking. 

Hermione slapped Ron’s arm, scowling, “Ronald, that’s not very nice.” 

You chuckled, eyes darting over to Fred for a split second. You blushed when you saw him staring back, mouth agape, like he couldn’t believe it was you. You immediately moved your eyes to the younger twin, taking his outstretched hand before he leaned closer to your ear. George’s breath tickled your skin, making you shiver. He whispered, “Looks like you got his attention.”

You were flustered, hiding your face in the crook of George’s neck to hide the redness of your cheeks. He laughed at you, pulling away to guide you to the entrance. Because your back was turned, you didn’t see the confused look on Fred’s face. 

Since when did that start? He made a mental note to ask his twin about it later, an unfamiliar feeling overcoming his senses as he watched George’s hand find the small of your back.

“Fred?” 

He snapped out of his thoughts, now aware of the beautiful girl by his side. He turned his head to look at Angelina, an apologetic look on his face. He sent her a small smile, “Sorry, love.”

“No worries, you ready to go in?” She asked, looping her arm through his. He nodded, clearing his throat, trying to shake the image of you and his brother out of his head. As they walked in, Angelina spoke again, “I didn’t know Y/N and George were a thing.”

“They’re not,” Fred blurted out, blinking rapidly as Angelina shot him a quizzical look. He was sure his cheeks were now pink, a sure sign of his embarrassment, “Uh, I mean- I don’t think they are, at least. I’m sure they would’ve told me. He’s my brother and she’s my best friend, after all.” 

You would’ve told him, right? 

-

Fred would be lying if he said there wasn’t a weight lifted off his chest when George stumbled into their shared room at 11 PM. He couldn’t bring himself to spend the night with Angelina because the thought of you and George plagued his mind. He shivered at the thought that George would take you back to your room, and Merlin knows what else might ensue. Fred didn’t want to think about it. 

He laid in the dark, hoping that the younger twin would make his way inside at a reasonable hour. He still had on his dress shirt but his tie was undone as he laid against the frame of his bed, arms folded behind his neck. His shoes were in two different places in the room. He quite literally shook them off his feet, frustrated that he didn’t know what he was feeling. Fred perked up at any sound that might indicate George’s arrival, deflating when the sound of footsteps walked past his door. 

Finally, George walked in, shoes in hand but the rest of his ensemble still neatly on his body. Well, that’s a good sign, Fred thought. George flicked the light switch on, making Fred hiss at the sudden light. The younger twin threw his shoes at Fred, thinking there was an intruder in their room, half-expecting Fred to still be out with Angelina. 

Fred squinted his eyes, “What was that for?” 

“Oops, sorry,” George chuckled, undoing his tie and plopping onto his bed. “Didn’t expect you to be back so early.”

“I could say the same about you.” 

“Why is that my dear brother?”

Fred felt bile rise up his throat, hating the words that rolled off his tongue, “You and Y/N looked rather cozy.” 

George cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward to interrogate his brother, “Is that a problem?”

Fred was too worked up to detect the teasing tone in his twin’s voice. He cleared his throat, choosing to look everywhere else but at George’s smirking face. “Yes it is a problem. I’d like a heads-up next time my brother and my best friend start shagging.”

He snorted, “We’re not shagging, you git. We’re just best friends.” 

“I thought I was her best friend too and she didn’t go to the ball with me. She went with you, so I find it hard to believe that you’re just friends.” 

“Believe what you want, dearest brother,” George hummed, getting up to get ready for bed. “But did you even ask her to the Ball? I’m sure she would’ve said yes if you did.” 

“Well, I’m dating Angelina so that wouldn’t work.” 

“Precisely,” George rolled his eyes, throwing his balled up tie in his brother’s direction. “That’s why she went with me. You’re dating Angelina, so what’s got your knickers in a twist?”

“I do not have my knickers in a twist.” Fred huffed, getting up to do the same. Silence fell upon the two boys. George was enjoying their confrontation a bit too much, while Fred was now rethinking everything he thought he knew. Was it possible that he was jealous?

No, that couldn’t possibly be it. 

Can it?

-

You’ve preoccupied Fred’s mind since the Yule Ball. Although, he hasn’t brought up his suspicions— and as much as he won’t admit it, his jealousy— over your relationship with his twin, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s gotten in the way of a lot of things. 

For starters, Angelina grew tired of Fred’s absentmindedness, forgetting dates and always daydreaming or staring off to where you and George sat when he was with her. She broke it off with him, and truth be told, he was relieved. 

He skipped over to where you and George sat, prying the both of you away from each other as he squeezed himself between you. He ignored George’s protests and turned his back on his brother, facing you with a comedic smile on his face, “Hello, Y/N.”

You raised your eyebrows, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, “Yes, Freddie?”

“Just wanted to see how my best girl is doing.”

You shook your head playfully, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks. George giggled from behind Fred, getting up to leave the two of you alone. George knew his plan would work.

You pushed Fred off a bit, his body heat making you more flustered than ever, “Put a cork in it, Weasley. I’m sure your girlfriend would not appreciate you saying that to me.”

“My huh?” he cocked his head to one side, a twinkle of mischief in his eye as he explained his situation to you. “I don’t have one of those anymore, my dearest.” 

You dropped your quill, shocked, as you turned to the red head beside you. You imagined he would be much sadder, given the fact that he no longer had a girlfriend, but the grin on his face told another story. It made you believe that the boy in front of you was pulling your leg. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Not funny, Weasley. Don’t joke about that.”

“Not joking,” he mused, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. “We broke up like two weeks ago.” 

“And you’re not in shambles right now because..?”

“Because it was bound to end, anyway.”

A puzzled look took over your features as you gave Fred your undivided attention. His eyes were studying your face, a small smile tugging on his perfect lips. He leaned over and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, keeping his hand there longer than necessary, cupping your jaw. You managed to speak despite the shocks that shot through your body— albeit it was more of a squeak, but you were proud of yourself for even uttering something out, “Why is that?”

“Someone…” he trailed off, brushing your skin with the pad of his thumb before blushing madly, like he just became aware of what he’s been doing. You suddenly missed his touch when he pulled his hand away. Fred cleared his throat, “Someone else caught my attention.” 

You whispered, still half-dazed from his previous action, “Oh.” 

“Y/N?” Fred mumbled, eyes glued to your lips. 

“Mhm?”

He licked his lips, inching closer to you. His breath tickled your lips, making your heartbeat a million miles an hour. “Can I?”

“If you want,” you gulped, allowing yourself to melt under his touch. 

“I’ve never wanted something more than this. You belong with me.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Weasley.”

He smirked before letting his lips touch yours. He pulled you closer to his body, almost forgetting that you were both in public. It’s not like he cared much over an audience anyway. He only pulled away from you when he felt his ear being twisted. Fred grimaced in pain, eyes screwed shut. 

You giggled as you watched Professor McGonagall picking him up by the ear. She wore a fond look on her face that she tried to disguise with a scowl, “Mr. Weasley, I will not have you corrupt one of my best students.” 

“Come on, Professor,” he groaned, sending you a cheeky wink, “With the way she was kissing me back, she was the one corrupting me.” 

You flushed red, placing your face in your hands, “Weasley!”

Unfortunately, he got a week’s worth of detention. It was worth it because he got a girlfriend in return. 

TAGS: @rexorangecouny

[romqnticstylez]

I NEED FIC RECS RN

i didnt actually do this in class because! i was listening <3 hard to believe i know but it's true. however now im only listening to rose's attempt so here you go my dearest wife my main hoe

(this time im not putting the authors' name. sorry not sorry im too lazy)

troubled for you

draco's revenge (tw inside)

please don't flirt with the healers

oblivious

positive reinforcement (I LOVE THIS)

prelude and fugue

tall, skinny redheads

loving you is a losing game (look at my mom making quality content)

until it's old and comfortable

making christmas bright

to have and to hold

a mother's love (this is a series tho)

beautiful friend

life drawing

sonnets of magical interference

the rainbow connection (this is hilarious)

counterpoint

down the rabbit hole

you and me

me and you (sequel to you and me. incomplete)

in the name of love (look at my mom making more quality content)

little weezy (this is the sweetest thing my eyes have been blessed enough to see)

weasleys' wizard weekend

sun kissed

follow the butterflies

no more regrets

all the times i loved you

like a bloke

lullaby

partners (my first bookmark. *wipes tear dramatically*)

darling, i'm beginning to realize

we're not who we used to be

pumpkins (this>>>>>)

practice (this is one of the two fics i was talking about yesterday iykwim)

it's just experimenting (the second one yay)

words in my mind

Holy Shit, You Just Realized You Have a Crush on Your Best Friend, Whilst He’s in the Ugliest Robes You’ve Ever Seen. What are You Doing?

you made me marry kreacher (LMSAOJDK THIS IS MY FAVORITE CURSED FIC EVER 🤩😔🙏����)

practise makes perfect

with you

friends with benefits

to be or not to be a prat

what ron did

a proper thank you

a scream through the forest

frustration

the second task (THIS is so good i promise)

and finally my BELOVED the best thing I've ever read <3 my favorite fic

the darkest recesses of the heart

[gryffindors-weasley]

Enamored

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: The day Ron tells you he loves you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: loss of a home, Fred is alive, mild angst, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This fic is inspired by Pretty Boy by The Neighbourhood!

The last traces of summer had rapidly faded as the season changed to autumn, the once warm weather now chilled and brisk. It had been a whirlwind of a year thus far, one that was exceedingly more undesirable than most with the war having transpired. It brought with it a myriad of losses and misfortune for all that had been involved to fight against the Dark Lord.

The most noticeable loss for the Weasley family was the destruction of their family home. It was near ash and ruins but a few months ago, devastating and left in tatters as it no longer stood tall lopsidedly wonderful. While it was life altering and an act of complete and utter cruelty, they remained grateful that each and every member of their tight knit family remained alive and well. That’s what always mattered most to them, what will always matter.

Now that fall has rolled around after three months of hard work and effort put in from you and the beloved family, the Burrow was officially rebuilt. It didn’t house the same memories as it once had, it couldn’t have, but it stood tall and beautifully imperfect once more. It was a home that could only possibly be held up by magic otherwise it just might topple over with the number of floors it had. The pots and pans had scrubbed themselves once more, the chimney puffed out smoke yet again, the home was now bustling with a familiar boisterous energy once again in a way only they could manage to create.

Spending that time with them was time you were grateful to have, though you found yourself to be with Ron more so than anyone else. No matter what the instance may have been, you always seem to seek each other out as if it were a subconscious act. It was a wordless fact seemingly known to just about everyone but the very two people who’d been doing it, but that didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at all.

It’d been three years in the making of watching their lovestruck brother and equally lovestruck best friend pine for each other, of watching you both be so oblivious it was almost painful. Three years of catching him gaze at you with the softest of smiles when you weren’t looking, one so adoring Molly nearly cries every time, and of you doing just the same when his attentions were focused elsewhere. Three years of watching you two brush hands when you walk side by side followed by the promise of blushing cheeks when you realized the electrifying encounter. It had been frustrating years in the making of watching two people they loved so dearly be so blissfully unaware of just how in love they truly were with each other.

They were ready to take matters into their own hands and make it known themselves.

Currently, Mrs. Weasley has assigned both you and Ron the task of stopping by the bakery in town. She’d wanted an assortment of pastries as a part of a way to celebrate the finishing of their new home. She had made more than enough of her own in her newly remodeled kitchen of course, but she had her mind set on blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies made from none other than Hazel’s Bakery.

She most certainly did not send the two of you in particular in an effort to get you to spend some alone time. No, definitely not.

“Are you warm enough?” Ron asks as you leave through the front door, stepping out into the brisk weather.

You nod, cheeks staining a soft pink at the gentle caring he had for you, the question falling from his lips like it’d been second nature. Caring for you, being protective of you, it was second nature by that point. He doesn’t believe he could help it even if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Despite the fluttering of your heart you couldn’t help your teasing smile. “Yes. But I suppose it’d be far warmer if we drove there.”

He caught onto your teasing and rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Are you ever going to stop teasing me for that, Y/n/n?”

You pretend to give his question some serious thought, puckering your lips as you squint your gaze and tap your finger against your cheek. His laughter broke you from your actions. “No, I don’t think I will, Ronnie.”

Your own laughter was immediate at the scrunch of his nose upon hearing the nickname he loathed so much, more so at the playful narrowing of his blue stare. Maybe he didn’t hate it when it fell from your lips. However, you quickly appeased his obvious displeasure of the name as you brushed the pad of your thumb over his chin, his blushing smile soon to return as he looked at his feet to steady his racing heart. He knew his cheeks had to have matched the leaves on the trees by now. They always had been when in your presence.

You shook your head with a smile as you focused your attention on anywhere but him to avoid worsening the heat in your cheeks. Rather, you focused on the graying of the sky and the way the grass rippled beneath the wind. You listened to the leaves crunching under both your footfalls and the sound they made as the breeze washed over them. For lack of a better word, this time of year had been the most magical, and it seemed as though Ron fit right in with the hues of his hair and equally his attire. Equally his flushed cheeks.

A single wildflower had caught your stare, standing tall amongst the fading green grass. You slowed your stride to bend down and pluck it from the ground, turning to look at Ron who’d now stood paces from you with a curious brow raised.

“What is it?”

You held up the yellow flower, the stem pinched between your fingers as you beamed. In a matter of seconds you ran to him the short distance he was from you, his smile now apparent.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a laugh, one to stave off the way his breath hitched as you leaned up to tuck it within the red hair just above his ear.

It appeared golden amongst the rosy ginger shade and he smiled down at you fondly for a brief moment before shaking his head, not making a move to take it out. You smiled up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide just how giddy he’d made you feel in that very moment. You suppose there wasn’t even a reason to feel as such, but that hadn’t mattered; the feeling occurred whenever it so pleased, and it was more often than not it seemed.

You reached the end of the long driveway and took his hand without a second thought, sharing a smile before apparating from the property.

In mere dizzying seconds you had appeared in the ever familiar and unfrequented alleyway, taking a moment to adjust before stepping into foot traffic along with everyone else in the town. It wasn’t as busy as some days it could be, but regardless it was always a fun trip to walk about, it was cozy.

Almost in the very same moment did the two of you realize you’d still been holding hands, releasing the other as you looked your separate ways for just a second. He’d wanted to reach out and hold it once more, to interlock his fingers with yours. He hadn’t really wanted to let go. You risked a glance and he risked his and it wasn’t hard to tell when Ron Weasley has been fighting a smile. Perhaps what was more obvious was the little yellow flower that somehow still remained in his hair. You decided then and there not to mention it.

The denim of your jacket proved to be far less warm than you had thought it to be, or maybe it’d just gotten colder. Either way, as you walked down that sidewalk, you weren’t ready to let Ron know he’d been right in telling you to wear something heavier before you left the house. He always seemed to be right about those kinds of things.

Ron grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking past the bakery, his grin teasing as he held open the green painted door. You were far too distracted by him for your own good.

The smell of coffee and sweets had been instant upon entering, a little bell overhead signaling your entrance into the small yet cozy shop. The showcase had been filled with fresh pastries and baked goods, the line not yet as lengthy it surely would be now that Hazel had switched the sign to ‘open’.

The kind older woman had greeted you as warmly as she did each and every time she’d seen you, making a point to pinch Ron’s cheeks much like his own mother had.

“Hazel! We’ve talked about this,” Ron whines, rubbing his newly reddened cheeks.

“Oh hush, my dear boy,” she says, turning to you. “How do you put up with him?”

You laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders. “I must admit, it is but a wonder indeed, Hazel.”

You look to Ron who’d furrowed his brows at you, lips pursed in faux offense as you smile beamingly up at him. One that dissolved any look to displeasure. One that caused the woman behind the counter to nearly gush about what a wonderful couple you’d be, something that was also very much like his mother.

You placed your order and asked for extra, knowing if you hadn’t that surely Ron would have eaten far too many for Molly not to notice. Though you knew for a fact she’d be able to tell either way. She talked you into staying for just a little bit longer, the promise of hot cocoa far too enticing to turn down as you still felt the shivering effects of the chilly fall weather.

—

“You really thought I’d eat three muffins?” Ron scoffs, mouth full as a few crumbs fall past his lips.

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you walk down the cracked sidewalk, the steaming paper bag clutched in your hand. “You’ve eaten two already.”

“Did I?” He asks, brows furrowed as he halts momentarily to recall it. The genuine shock and confusion painted on his expression had you laughing as you grabbed his hand, tugging him along the walkway before any more passers by all but run into you with looks of annoyance.

“Yes, you did,” you giggle, releasing his hand to link your arm with his once more.

“Well, they’re really good,” he defends as you continue walking. “Really good.”

You look up at him then, a soft smile on your lips as you do so. His cheeks were stained a soft pink from the chilly weather, accentuating the freckles dancing across them and the very bridge of his nose. At the curve of his smile and the dimples that formed when he did just that. Or perhaps it was the near unruly ginger hair that dipped over his forehead and covered his ears; he had yet to get a haircut much to his mother’s dismay. He was starting to resemble his fourth year self, a hair length he’d claimed he hated so very much but you were beginning to think otherwise.

“Are you staring?” He asks a short while later, a more than knowing grin on his lips that sent your stomach into a fit of butterflies and knots.

“You’ve got food on your face, how could I not?” You counter, though the scarlet in your cheeks is far too obvious. It was true, there were crumbs in the corner of his mouth that needed to be swept away, but you were not ready in the slightest to admit your admiring. “Plus you’ve still got that flower in your hair.”

His hand is quick to fly up and pluck it out, looking at the delicate little thing as his cheeks burned once more. So that was what Hazel was talking about. He smiles then with a soft laugh, stopping your stride once more to tuck it behind your ear.

“There, looks much better on you,” he mumbles, smile soft and adoring, one that lingered long after he’d looked away.

“I beg to differ.”

You’d noticed just how gloomy the sky had been, clouds puffy and gray as the breeze intensified just the slightest bit. It wasn’t something you minded, for it was rather scenic amongst the rapidly dwindling buildings the closer you got to the Burrow. You both had decided a walk back would be best given the bag of sweets you now have, not to mention the hot chocolates you each had provided just enough warmth for you to do so.

A sigh left your lips, one of contentment as you walked back in a comfortable silence and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your arm still hooked with his as he slowed his pace for you to keep up with him, and he’d since taken the bag from your hand so you wouldn’t have to carry it. It was the little things that you noticed that others might not; the little things that meant the most to you, that made your heart flutter. Like the way he will always wait for you when something catches your eye in a shop, not an ounce of impatience in him like he may have had with his siblings. Or how he’d save a plate of breakfast for you when you stay at his home because you’d woken up later than his brothers. It left your heart full.

He hadn’t been aware that you’d noticed those kinds of things; he finds he isn’t even aware of it sometimes. Living you had become second nature at this point, it was expressed in nearly everything he did. You were woven into his very heart and hadn’t even known as such. He doesn’t know how he made it quite this far without going absolutely mad, without his heart bursting in his chest every time you look at him the way you do. Every time you smile at him the way you do. It was his hopes that you’d reserved those kinds of looks, those kinds of smiles for just him. It had been his hope that somehow, someway, you had felt the same way.

He knew with all the certainty in the world that he needed to tell you. He doesn’t think he can go another day without telling you as such. He knows he can’t; he loved you from afar for nearly four years. If you don’t feel the same, if it’s all over after his confession, he can take this moment with him. Of your head on his shoulder, of the way you held his hand that day, of the way you looked at him. It needed to be spoken no matter how much it made his hands shake. He almost lost you in that war and he decided he couldn’t risk not telling you.

You reached the familiar stretch of trees lining the vacant road, the breeze having intensified more noticeably. The walk had been quiet save for the chirping of the birds and the crinkle if the bag Ron held, or the crunch of leaves and gravel under your feet. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your afternoon, especially with the knowledge of the warm meal Molly had been preparing for dinner that night. The whole Weasley family would be there, Harry would be there, Hermione would be there. It was plans that made your stomach flip with excitement.

It wasn’t until then, at the very opening of the near dauntingly long dirt driveway that the rain had started to drizzle steadily. You suppose you expected it at that point, with the puffy gray clouds that rapidly blew over any and all sunlight, it had become more than evident that that would be the case.

You gasped upon the weathers sudden change in plans regardless, the icy downpour taking you by surprise. A jovial laugh soon sounded from your lips as you threw your hands up, looking around as it came down and rolled off the tri-colored leaves. They too fluttered down in a flurry of reds and oranges, and you were certain you’d never seen something quite so beautiful, quite so enchanting.

Spotting a nearby shelter beneath the branches of one of the large trees, you grabbed Ron’s hand, ready to pull him along with you though you quickly noticed he hasn’t budged any more than just a few steps. You turned to him then, rather confused in that moment and the more you stood exposed to the sudden storm the less useful it became to seek shelter from it. None of it seemed to matter as he stood there and gazed at you, ginger hair darkened a few shades as it stuck to his forehead and flushed cheeks. The smile on his face was quite possibly the softest you’d ever seen it be, and it held something different, remarkably different and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Though it seemed to be far too much as he looked away from you momentarily as if to gather himself, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

Everything felt that much more intense in that moment, and he felt as though his breath was caught in his throat as he stood before you. You were confused, that much was clear. You were still holding his hand in yours, still smiling at him with that smile. That had also been very clear. You were doused in the downpour and his heart beat wildly with each passing second, and if he opened and closed his mouth one more time he felt as though he just might look like an absolute fool.

“What are you doing?” You asked, taking a step closer as you look at him quizzically, “We’re just about soaked and you hate the rain—”

“I love you.”

The three words were spoken then, almost unheard against the heavy rain. They were soft and they were true, how could you not have heard them? Yet even though they clearly were, very clearly, it still hadn’t quite registered to you just exactly what he had just said. You couldn’t believe what you had heard.

“What?” You ask, a soft laugh leaving your lips. Not one of mocking, more of giddy surprise.

“I said I love you,” He repeats louder as he swallowed thickly, accompanied by a nervous laugh of his own as he wipes the wet strands of his hair out of his eyes.

The more time that had gone by, no matter how fleeting it made have been, the butterflies in his stomach were relentless. By this point the rain was of no importance, trying to stay dry was of no importance anymore. What was important was the way you grasped his flannel jacket and leaned on your toes, and the way you pressed your lips on his. Or the way you smiled against his lips as he pulled you close to him, as close as possible, dropping the soaked paper bag of pastries to the ground in favor of settling his hand on your cheek and tangling his fingertips in your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet giggle that was threatening to break your moment; maybe it was the sheer loving intensity of it, or the fact that this was real and this was happening. But the way he kissed you, the way your heart beat so loudly you thought he could hear it, that’s what had kept you in that very real moment.

When you parted you hadn’t strayed more than a few inches as you looked up at him, beamed, his smile equally so as the two of you laughed softly. It was one of giddy love, of an unexpected moment of bliss. The feeling that the person you loved so wholly loved you back just as much. It was that kind of laugh.

“I love you,” you say, laughing once more as your foreheads touched in the fond moment. The tip of his nose had been flushed from the cold nipping at his skin, his smile brilliant and adoring and entirely telling of his love. “I love you.”

You kiss him again, soft and quick as you grabbed his hand before you spoke up after a short while to relish in your moment. “We’d better go inside!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement even if he was perfectly content to stay there and kiss you. “I think we better.”

You pulled him along the muddy path as he laughed behind you at your antics. The two of you were breathless and soaked and still in a daze from the kiss you’d just shared mere moments ago as you rushed through the door. The look on Molly’s face changed from startled to quizzical as she took note of the sheer nothingness in either of your hands, her lips pursing and her arms crossing.

“Just where are the muffins? And the cookies?”

Ron looks to you with a smile and you the same, laughing softly amongst yourselves at the realization of just where they had been. The sight of your kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks was telling enough of the reasoning such a blunder occurred. Not to mention the way the tips of his fingers still grasped yours. She knew. “We must’ve forgotten.”

He hadn’t broken his gaze from you quite yet as he spoke, far too lovestruck to do so. Far too enamored.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @awritingtree @lupinsclassroom @harrysweasleys @theweasleysredhair @writeroutoftime

[louff4tw]

I just saw your post about none of the other Weasleys coming to Percy's wedding and now I'm dying for a fic on this. I'd sell my soul for it. Honest!

I just have a few questions about what happened next:

- You didn't mention Charlie in the group not wanting to go. Did he attend or unlike the others he wanted to go but actually couldn't get away from work?

- What did Percy name Molly II then? Cause I doubt he'd name his daughter after his mother now? Audrey especially (if it is Audrey he married) would definitely put her foot down on that matter.

- What did mutual friends of Percy and the rest of the Weasleys think of the whole thing? We know what the likes of Muriel and Kingsley thought of the matter but what about people like Oliver Wood who knew them in Hogwarts? (Like I don't know if you play Hogwarts Mystery or if you do how far in the game you're at - minor spoliers ahead, but I imagine that Percy and Beatrice, whose older sister Penny is friends with Bill and Charlie in the game, eventually became friends themselves. There's no way then that the matter wouldn't catch Penny's attention and she takes her role as a sister seriously. I don't think there would ever be a way for the Weasleys to regain her respect after that.)

You don't have to answer those questions they're just things that popped into my head as I was reading. I would love to see any headcanons for what happened next if you have any.

To me Charlie holds himself aloof from his family so is somewhat distant. But would be there for others if need be, I feel like Charlie would either be the one to go or just be oblivious and forget. Or maybe there was a dragon emergency/can’t travel to the wedding. But would definitely send him a letter with a gift. A weird gift but one none the less.

I never liked that he named her Molly in the first place. She only reached out once in the books and didn’t stop the others from treating him bad and had even laughed when he was pranked, so no matter who he marries. Wether people like Audrey or Oliver they would be BIG mad. Like he suggests “Molly” and they go HELL NO! they debate wether they should even be allowed to visit the kids. Not until a apology is made. Jackie would be a good name instead. Not much meaning behind it. Like how Lucy is, ( that we know of )

I don’t play Hogwarts Mystery cause it just takes a lot of time and I don’t have much, so I’m not sure what she would think. Oliver is CRUSHED! I head cannon he has a small family and isn’t close with them so idolizes the Weasleys and loves Percys brothers. He is one of the most mad people. Like I feel like he would actively seek out George after and yell at him and scream that he wished he kicked him off the quidditch team in school and nothing could forgive what he’s done. If Charlie did end up not coming he’s disappointed in him. Anytime he sees any other Weasley he gives them the cold shoulder. Harry included. Penny is also mad but can hold herself back much further.

The rest of the extended Weasleys kind of hold back from them and they don’t notice till Ron’s wedding and NO ONE SHOWS! No one from the ministry and extended Weasleys do. Or school people. Staff alike except Minerva and even then she only really went cause Hermione.

I feel like a guest that did show would wonder aloud and Minerva would lean over and mention that the Weasleys skipped their 3rd sons wedding. A very beloved member of the Ministry, favourite student of the teachers and students alike so they skipped Ron’s cause why bother ( I head cannon that outside his family he was popular cause he always helped any student with anything they needed)

Percy would be hurt for so long and would have his confidence and self worth shook and his SO would spend so long trying to help him fight back against it. One day in the future he can find peace and while he doesn’t talk to his family much his kids talk to their cousins at school ( he encourages it cause the kids didn’t do anything) and he’s surrounded by people who care and that’s what matters. Holding onto those who don’t care as much back are not worth it,

When Albus is sorted into Slytherin and he sees the shift in his family I feel he would confide in Lucy and she would talk to her dad and Abus would be one he would talk to to inform him that he’s always welcome to stay with them. Percy knows what it’s like to be outcasted just for being different and would make sure that Albus would NEVER feel like he did. And when his brother and Cousin start pranking him ( aka bullying like the Twins did to Percy) Percy finally goes to talk to George and Harry and tell them they either nip this in the bud or history will repeat itself and threatens if they don’t he will let Albus live with him full time ( he already has a room for him)

[acnelli]

Hiding

This is my entry for the Hinny FicFest 2021 hosted by @clarensjoy. Thank you for organising it! There were so many lovely prompts to choose from and originally I wanted to write something really angsty for this one, but then decided to approach this in a much more lighthearted way.

Thank you @accio-broom for beta-reading! You are the best!

Prompt 2: Ginny gets sick and won’t admit it Rating: GA Pairing: Harry/Ginny Summary: Ginny had a bad day, including an unfortunate injury, which she tries to hide from Harry.

Also available on AO3 and FFN.

Ginny walked out of St. Mungo’s with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione’s cat Crookshanks to shame. The world was against her these last couple of days; she just knew it. 

It had started with a horrendous loss against a team the Harpies were positive they would never lose to; the Chudley Cannons. The orange excuse of a professional Quidditch Team had beat them, and it wasn’t even a close match. They lost 590 to 120—an absolute disaster. 

Of course, her insufferable brother had lost his mind, along with all the other Cannon fans in the stands. It had been the first time the Cannons won in what must’ve been years, which resulted in the players not even hearing the referee’s whistle, signalling the end of the game. 

Ginny had given Ron the tickets to this match as a birthday present. As long as the Cannons lost every single time, and she could greet her brother with a smug grin, she was okay with Ron switching his Harpies jersey with her number on it to his orange Cannon one. This time though, Ginny found it nothing short of traitorous, and even her family, including Harry, had the gal to congratulate Ron. Her brother would make sure she would never forget this day, no matter how many times the Harpies would kick their arses in the future. 

The Harpies, quite demoralised from their previous match, had shown up at training the next day, as usual. After a pep talk by their coach, the team had pepped up, flying different manoeuvres and acting out the strategies for their game against Ballycastle the next day. 

Enjoying the wind on her face, as well as the feeling that only flying so high up in the air could provide, Ginny had forgotten all about their loss and solely concentrated on getting the Quaffle inside one of the three loops from every possible angle. She had been so engaged in training that she noticed the dangerous wheezing of the Bludger one second too late. Although she could dive away to avoid getting hit in the face, the ball collided with her left ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on a stretcher as a medi-wizard treated her injury. 

A broken ankle usually could be treated by the team’s healers, but the young man insisted on transferring her to the hospital as he suspected a more complicated fracture. And because it was Ginny’s lucky week, he had been right eventually. 

The healer who treated her advised Ginny not to play against Ballycastle as the Skele-gro would cause a great deal of pain, and painkillers were strictly forbidden at Quidditch matches, especially pain-relief potion which had strong side effects, and therefore, were a danger to herself and others while on a broom. 

Against the healer’s strongest protests, Ginny refused the skele-gro and asked the middle-aged woman to stabilize her ankle and give her some light painkillers that would wear off until tomorrow. 

Ginny needed to play tomorrow. A few days ago, Oliver had tipped her off that the national trainers would be watching the game against Ballycastle, and there was just no way she would pass this chance to show them that she was the right choice to play for England. Even if they only let her join as a reserve Chaser, it would be her ticket to play international Quidditch. 

While the discussion with the healer had been annoying but without any chance for the St. Mungo’s employee to change Ginny’s mind, the real battle would be at home. If Harry got even the slightest hint about his wife’s injury, a fight would break out, fitting these infuriating last two days. 

Harry, usually being blissfully oblivious to most things, immediately noticed when something was up with Ginny. While most times, this little fact warmed her heart, it was rather unfortunate today. And ever since Harry joined the Aurors, he had become even more of a bloodhound when he sensed a secret. 

Ginny was determined to try her best to appear normal when she carefully walked out of the fireplace and into the living room of Grimmauld Place. As she expected, Harry sat on the settee, reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet. 

“Hey, Gin,” Harry greeted her, looking up as she walked over to where he was sitting, “How was training? Did Rodgers let you off earlier today?” 

The painkillers still in effect, Ginny leaned down to kiss her husband, carefully lifting her weight off her injured ankle. Kissing Harry always made her feel good, but after her dreadful day, it simply felt like heaven. 

With one swift movement, Harry pulled her down with him on the settee. She cuddled up against his side, inhaling his scent as she trailed kisses down his neck. As their kisses became more heated, Harry rolled on top of her, and just as she was about to sigh because of the sweet friction, a pained whimper escaped her when Harry hit Ginny’s foot with his leg. 

He immediately jumped up, eyes going wide, and Ginny knew that she lost her little hiding game. Carefully sitting up, she waited until Harry crouched down in front of her, looking at her worried. 

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong with your foot?”

“Just a small accident at training today,” Ginny tried to reassure him, “Nothing serious.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Why does it still hurt then? Your medi-staff can heal most injuries in a heartbeat.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ginny said, cursing her bloody Weasley genes as she felt her ears turning red. As graceful as possible, she stood up, heading for the kitchen. Besides the fact that she didn’t want to have this conversation, she was also hungry. 

Of course, the conversation was far from over because Harry followed her into the kitchen, watching her with a raised eyebrow as Ginny made herself a sandwich. When she turned to face Harry, she tried to casually stand on her good foot, pretending her ankle wasn’t throbbing in a more penetrant manner now. Obviously, the painkillers had already started to wear off. 

“Why are you hiding this, Gin?” Harry asked, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, “Why didn’t you just go to a healer?”

“Because they would give me skele-gro and a pain-relief potion, meaning I wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow.”

“So? Ginny, I know you are amazing, but I’m sure the Harpies can manage one match without you.”

“Yes, they sure can,” Ginny huffed in frustration, “But if I don’t play, the scouts for the English national team possibly won’t take me into consideration.” 

Harry stood up and walked over to his wife, leaning down to get on eye-level with her. “To quote your brother: Are you fucking mental?”

“It’s my career, Harry! Playing for England is the dream, and I refuse to let this silly little injury get in the way.” 

Instead of commenting on this, he gently took Ginny’s hand, leading her to sit on a chair. More out of discomfort because of her increasingly throbbing ankle than the willingness to sit down, Ginny complied anyway. 

“This is far too dangerous, Ginny. You can’t possibly hold yourself on a broom for-”

“This is not up for debate,” Ginny interrupted him, her tone clipped and her face now red from anger, “I’ll just grit my teeth long enough to play some of my best manoeuvres, and then I’ll ask for a timeout and Rodgers will put me on the bench.”

“And you think Rodgers will be alright with you playing injured? Or are you planning to hide it like you tried to hide it from me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Harry sighed in frustration at her trademark Weasley-stubbornness but he took Ginny’s hand anyway. 

“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, alright?” Ginny wanted to interrupt him, but Harry just kept talking. “You want to play in a game, most likely showing only a mediocre performance because of your broken ankle. Ginny, these scouts don’t have to see you play in this particular game. They know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of already. If you’re not playing in this match, they’ll watch you play in the next one. Assuming they want the very best for the national team, they’ll sure enough not write you off because you couldn’t make it to this match.”

Harry could tell that Ginny’s resolve was already crumbling, but he knew better than to stop here. “There are also your brothers, and more importantly, your mother. Molly will kill me if she learns you hurt yourself even more, despite me knowing of your injury.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to this game for so long,” Ginny sighed, frowning at the unfairness of it all. 

“I know,” Harry said, leaning forward a little to softly kiss her pouting lips, “But you can’t play. It’s not just dangerous for you, but also for your teammates and Ballycastle.”

Harry’s words destroyed every resolve Ginny still had standing. The last thing she would want is someone getting hurt because of her stubbornness, and certainly not her beloved Harpies. 

“Since when are you the voice of reason.” she groaned, letting her head fall against Harry’s chest and draping her arms around his neck. 

Harry took this opportunity to swoop her up into his arms before walking towards the fireplace. 

“Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing at the prospect of the knowing look the healer will give her when she comes back. 

Before Harry could floo over to the hospital, Ginny leaned up and placed a hot kiss against his throat. 

“If I have to stay at home all day tomorrow, you better keep me company, Potter.”

[clinioelerrante]

To be fainthearted…

That a student of Hogwarts was prowling the corridors of the castle in the wee hours of the morning was not uncommon.

The fact that this student belonged to Gryffindor House was even less so.

That such a student had hair that was red as hellfire could almost be considered normal.

The fact that this particular student was mumbling curses and oaths about a certain frizzy-haired which, it had been part of the regular school scene for more than 4 years.

But for such a student, at the height of Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror, to wander aimlessly, alone, under a disillusioning spell, with the marauder's map in hand and risking exemplary punishment or even expulsion from school, was decidedly atypical.

“A fucking wart? Mmm-hmm. A fucking wart and a fucking teaspoon?...” He mumbled as he took long strides through the corridors, almost oblivious to everything else. “My arse!”

Everything had started after the DA meeting. Cho Chang had accosted Harry in room of requirement while the rest of the group had dispersed. Hermione and he had gone to Gryffindor common room at and were having a relaxed conversation until she insisted that he complete his task while she wrote a letter. Hermione's parchment was already over the edge of the table and hanging dangerously close to the floor, when Harry came through the hole behind the portrait.

It had been perfectly obvious that something had happened. While one could not say that Harry had arrived with a completely dumb face, it was no less true that he was the closest thing to the face of someone who had been struck by a stunning spell.

With Harry’s apparent inability to explain what had happened, Hermione had taken the initiative in the conversation until he blew up the cauldron:

“Have you kissed?”

Wait... What? Harry would have kissed Cho or maybe it was Cho who kissed Harry? After the initial surprise, he was enthusiastic about his friend and wished he did it.

Of course! He'd been aware of Hurry’s crush on Cho since last year. One would have to be blind not to see him with that deer's eyes accompanied by a slight drooling every time Cho entered the scene! But following the usual pattern of shitty luck in Harry Potter's life that was the time when the bird was dating Cedric Diggory.

The memory of the partner killed by Peter Pettigrew overshadowed Ron's memories. Cedric was a good guy and his end had been unexpected, unjust and one more to add to the long list of Wormtail's coward crimes. Top of them, the betrayal of Harry's parents: Lily and James Potter.

“You filthy rat!" he swore. “If I had known, I personally would have left you alone with Crookshanks in a nice little room without a single hole in its walls and an undisturbed spell on the door.

The point was that Harry was still attached to Cho, if not more so, and it seemed that she had begun to notice Harry. There was no doubt that he had turned out to be a brilliant teacher in the DA meetings, added to his perpetual challenge to the pink toad and the legendary fight at the quidditch pitch had contributed enormously, to increase his sex appeal according to some whispered comments that he had heard between the women of the DA and some boys.

Ron wished with all his heart that, “For once!”, Harry's bad luck changed and like any normal teenager, he could live a normal life enjoying the intimate affection of a hot girl who she like him, although in his opinion ...a Tornado fan was not good enough for Harry. . . One flash of a long red hair burst into his mind making him shake his head to free himself from such disturbing vision.

But as usual, Harry hadn't had any luck with it either.

Instead of the first-time nervous or inexperienced teenager's kiss, it had resulted in little more than a disaster that had trapped Harry in the pit of insecurity in his ability to kiss properly a girl and later, with Hermione's invaluable assistance and her detailed talk about Cho Chang's state of emotional turmoil, he guessed in Harry, the doubt about the appropriateness of attempting any kind of relationship with such an emotionally damaged girl and, knowing Harry's legendary hero complex, he would be able to give up the girl if he thought it was sparing him any further pain. A massive Dragon’s dung in Ron's opinion, so he had used his best weapon to pull Harry out of his stupefaction and keep him from falling into his usual melancholy self-isolation; a joke:

“No one can feel so many things at once. It would explode!”

Ron doubted that anyone could explode because of it. If himself hadn't exploded with everything that's happened in the last year, it would be strange if someone else did. “Okay. Maybe Neville would go into a coma or pass out, but I don't think so. Dealing with Mrs. Longbottom for so many years had given him much more courage than many would give him credit for.”

In any case, Hermione's words had unleashed an emotional storm inside Ron, and the problem was that he saw no way to refute the logical sequence of events that had been linked together and seemed to form the links of a chain that wrapped around his neck.

Harry was diligent, brilliant, and handsome, he was not. Harry would have deserved to be prefect of Gryffindor, he didn't. Harry was extraordinary in Quidditch, he wasn't. . . “But Victor fucking pumpkin head Krum  is too. So rich. Could be richer as Harry even and. . . . and I'm sure he's experienced enough to know how to kiss a woman properly and. . . Oh God! How does Hermione know Harry is a good kisser and who has she been able to compare him to. . . ?”

He couldn't help it. His mind was filled with the slow motion image of Hermione kissing Krum torridly, trapping his ridiculously short hair between her thin fingers and taking his lips as if from them she extracted the air she needed to breathe, while one of his hands remained on her delicate waist and the other slowly ascended from her hip to caress her entire chest, provoking a lustful moan in her.

Ron felt the periphery of his vision turn red and his fists instinctively clenched so tightly that he felt his own nails sink into his flesh. He felt the need to rip the bastard's head off and when he looked up to face him, his mind was filled with Harry's gaze as he kissed Hermione passionately.

A familiar black claw wrapped around Ron's heart and squeezed it empty until it was breathless. He had never felt such pain or such overwhelming despair. Without being able to avoid it, from the depths of his being, a cry of impotence burst out, which ascended through his throat and escaped from him like the roar of the mortally wounded lion that intends to take his killer away with his last breath. . .

“Who's there? Don't try to escape. Inquisitorial Squad, with me!”

Ron cursed himself. He was so overwhelmed by the pain his own mind had generated that he had forgotten about bloody Umbridge and its band of mangy snakes patrolling the school corridors. Without thinking too much, he rushed to the double-leafed doors in front of him and entered.

“Professor Umbridge. Here!”

Blood seemed to be boiling in Ronald Weasley's veins. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was like the Malfoy and Weasley families had some sort of bond in destiny that would inevitably lead them to confront each other. The bloody bouncing ferret was on the other side of the door blocking the exit and calling for the great inquisitor to fall on him. Ron could hardly have imagined the satisfaction it would cause the flathead to discover that the student who violated the curfew was a Weasley and, among them, Harry Potter's best friend, no less! Nothing would make him happier than to witness another humiliation by Ronald Weasley. He was in these thoughts when another, much more disturbing, one made its way into his mind.

Umbridge! This would be like an early Christmas present for her. She would take advantage of the fact that it was him to provoke Harry and that would give her the perfect excuse to expel him.

Shit! You bloody fool couldn't have held back yourself, he thought to himself. No wonder Hermione can't see you as anything but a good-for-nothing. . . Hermione! Oh my God! If neither Harry or I are here, the ferret and the fucking toad are going to torment her to death. They're going to beat her and provoke her mercilessly until she quits or explodes and they can finally expel her. This would kill her. Shit, shit, shit, I'm the biggest asshole on the face of the earth. . .

“Grand Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge here". The voice of the disgusting toad was heard on the other side of the door. “I order you to leave that room.”

Ron, not breathing, stood three feet from the door waiting for the fatal decay.

“There's nothing to be afraid of"; he said with false sweetness. “All of us here are friends and we care about the safety of the students at the school. The Ministry only wants the best for all the magical children in the UK...” Ron thought that sounded suspiciously similar to a certain muggle story Hermione had once told him about a witch, one stupid girl and a poisoned apple...

“I'm absolutely sure is not your fault"; and this time there seemed to be some poison in her voice. “No doubt you'd be following the horrible example of Mr. Potter and his friends about how much fun it is to walk around the castle at this hour, but they don't have the good breeding of those born into completely magical families". She said scornfully, “And they can't understand how dangerous it can be to prowl around the castle at these hours, without the supervision of someone fully versed in the ins and outs of true magic society”. Ron swore he heard a chuckle from the silver ferret. “I'm begging you to come out. I promise that you will only receive one warning and we will accompany you to your common room so that you can rest until tomorrow's class”.

That's not what you've been saying publicly so far, you bloody cow. Always promising magic world perfectly safe thanks to the ministry and your “beloved” Fudge, old hag, he thought, trembling with anger. SHE knows more about the magic world, its traditions and its miseries than you will ever know in your entire fucking life. In an ideal world, you wouldn't even be worthy of breathing the same air that she breathes.  Instinctively, his magic channelled all his anger into his own hand that seemed to sizzle, longing to meet the wand that waited expectantly in his back pocket.

“Very well”, this time Umbridge's voice was definitely loaded with contempt. “I understand that if you are unable to understand the delicate complexities of the magical world and my desire to ensure your safety is because you have not had the proper education in your born-home. Nothing that a proper punishment can't solve, so, you´ll understand your place”.

This did it. Ron took three steps behind leaving its good fifteen feet with the door.

This sadist thinks it's not pureblood who is here and she's going to take advantage of it to make an example of it. His hand finally met his wand that seemed to emit a buzz of satisfaction to his contact. She will be stunned when she sees that the marauder is one of the “twenty-eight sacred". He thought this one with really loathe, like if bitter gall touched his lips at the memory. If I were anyone else I might be able to escape from this by sounding sorry, but being who I am, she's going to take advantage of it to go against both of them and if she doesn't go against Hermione, Draco will. For a moment a smile escaped his lips as he thought of what Hermione would do to Draco if he openly fought against her while remembering the superb punch the ferret had received in third year. But Malfoy will never attack her openly. He would seek a moment of solitude and would be accompanied by his two gorillas and possibly some Slytherin Deatheater apprentice and, God knows! What they would be capable of doing to her.

As his last smile died on his face, his wand was raised in his arm in a duelling position. Ron knew his fate was already decided. He knew that with him expelled, he would no longer be able to protect Harry and Hermione within the walls of Hogwarts, but nothing would stop him from defending them outside or making a last stand inside. When he confronted Umbridge and her henchmen, he would make his argument clear by giving them a hell of a wand, to make them understand that, just in the moment any of them tried to harm any of their friends, there would be no place under the sun where they could hide from him. So that miserable crew on the other side of the door would get the message and refrain from really drastic actions against his two friends.

Being Ron under age, he would not end up in Azkaban, and the fact that this stinking band knew that he would be free to show up at Hogsmeade from time to time would help reinforce the message. That would give Dumbledore and McGonagall time to regain control of the school and protect both of them. The image of a knight being taken by the queen on a gigantic chessboard gave him a crooked smile meanwhile he faced, wand in hand, his fate. Checkmate, pal.

“Alohomora!”

Alohowhat? What in  the h. . .; Ron didn't have time to complete the question that popped into his mind while his frown frowned in shock when he heard the spell on the other side of the door. But, if the door's not locked, why are they. . . ? For the second time, the idea died in his mind as he watched as the doorknob seemed to turn repeatedly in the attempt of someone trying to open the door, apparently in vain.

“ALOHOMORA!” It was heard again from the other side.” What's wrong with the damn door?” Again the voice of Umbridge was heard, this time in an unmistakable tone of irritation, as the doorknob was shaken more and more violently without the door giving way by a single millimetre.

-Get out of the way! This time there was real rage in the voice of the great inquisitor. On the other side of the door, Ron heard her to perform, one after the other, no less than 10 different spells trying to unlock the door and the paroxysmal movement of the doorknob had also given way to the incensed knocking of the door, as if in a primary resource and having failed magic, brute force was being used to force entry. It was then that he realized that his wand seemed to be emitting a dull buzzing sound that made her hand tremble.

“That's enough! I'm sure this is a joke of that brazen poltergeist”. Ron smiled. The toad's voice sounded more like a big walrus's breathing down from too much exercise. “Sure. He must have let out the scream and bewitched the door so that it could not be opened"; she continued, between gasping and panting.

“But professor”, Ron shuddered again at the sound of Malfoy's voice and to realize that his wand was shaking more intensely. “We've known Peeves since the first year, and that's certainly not his voice, nor is this the style of his jokes. He tends to be cruder and coarser by throwing stink bombs or buckets of ice water on the backs of the students. . .” The ferret's peroration was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a slap on the back of his neck particularly hard.

 “Stupid”. Umbridge's voice sounded particularly annoying. “Do you dare to discuss a teacher's judgment? I tell you that all this is the work of that nasty spirit and, if all of you had been properly versed in the magical arts, you would have realized it right away as well”. Ron could not help but have a panting laugh. The toad had just beaten the insufferable presumptuous, frustrated by her inability to open the door and, trying to avoid looking bad in front of her acolytes, she had diverted attention and blame onto the asshole. My word. He would have gladly paid two months' pay for being able to see the ferret's face.

“This only proves the ministry right. The quality of teaching in this place has tragically declined and it is imperative that the ministry take control of it in order to instruct the young wizards and witches in the mastery of their skills. “With me!” It was heard like a whimper and then, the unmistakable tapping of a few steps away.

Ron stood waiting for an invisible trap to fall on him; meanwhile, his wand continued vibrating in his hand, though ever more faintly, until it stopped completely. He remained motionless and almost breathless for a few more minutes, hoping to believe in his good fortune and that he really had escaped from a more than complicated situation. Finally, he decided it was time to take a chance and averted his eyes from the door and consulted the marauder's map. He couldn't believe it! On the map it could clearly read “Ronald Weasley”, but on the other side of the door the map did not reflect the presence of anyone. Even in his surroundings there doesn't seem to be a soul.

Now or never, pal; he said to himself in encouragement and then, he set about turning the doorknob which. As before, it pivoted on its axis smoothly and pulled it, the door to stay locked.

“Shit”, he mumbled, but refrained from further attempts. In a sad irony, it seemed that the same mystery that had saved his freckled arse was keeping him prisoner of the room. “Well", he closed his eyes and as he concentrated he muttered. “Whatever it is, I really appreciate you helping me out, but I'd really like to get out, get to my room and forget about tonight. I swear I've learned the fucking lesson not to wander around the castle after curfew, or at least, not to be such an asshole as to scream in the hallway after curfew”. He looked at the door again and tried to open it, and again this one remained unmoved.

“Bloody hell!” This time the tone of his voice was noticeably louder.  He turned in frustration on himself and looking up at the ceiling dropped himself over the door and, leaned on the back of his head as it tapped repeatedly against the wood in an attempt to alleviate his disappointment.

“Okay! It's all right. If the price I have to pay for escaping the damn pink toad is to spend the night in this room, I'll gladly take it. Tomorrow someone will come, open the door, cast the disillusioning spell on me, sneak out and I'll manage to find a way to justify my. . .

He jumped upright as he opened his eyes wide, realizing that he had no idea where he was! It had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that all he could remember was walking through the door that was closest to him at the time. Once the surprise was over, he began to inspect the room, hoping to recognize it.

“I should've known better”. The sad whisper escaped his lips as if it were the sigh of a condemned man whose last chance for freedom is slipping away.

The shelves followed one another in countless rows . . . “Well, surely not countless. I'll bet Hermione knows “exactly"; the number of them, as well as the number of every damn book inside each and every one of them"; he moaned.

Still, he had to admit. Empty of students, under the twilight of the moonlight filtering through the large windows, the Hogwarts Library was magnificent. Magnificent and intimidating.

“As always, she is able to see things at first sight, which takes the rest of us years"; he sighed. “No wonder I am not even able to keep up with her thoughts when that adorable head of her gets going”. And that was precisely what was bothering him most at this time and had led him to wander aimlessly through the school corridors. That with all her brilliance, all her knowledge, all her fucking logic, she wouldn't have been able to see everything that was bubbling up inside him. . .

Ron had not been aware at first, but gradually he became aware of the presence of candlelight behind some library shelves. Initially he feared that it might be because of the presence of another person in the library, whether it was a student, a teacher or, at worst, Filch and his mangy cat. So he remained quiet, but since the light seemed to be steady, no noise was heard, and the memory that the marauder's map had shown no one in the vicinity, he ventured quietly behind the bookshelf to find out what it was.

It didn't take him long to discover that it was one of the candlesticks that supplied light to the library users, but what was really curious was that it was the only candlestick that seemed to burn in the whole library. He approached it with the aim of extinguishing the candles when they went out by themselves while at the other end of the shelf the candles of another candleholder began to burn expontaneously.

Having grown up in the magic world, these kinds of situations were no surprise to him. They were fascinating, no doubt, but not at all a complete surprise.

He had long known that in one way or another, every wizard, every witch, had left the magical sight of his existence on the world. He knew many examples of them:

The essences of the four founders who died long ago, in the sorting hat. Those of his twin uncles Gideon and Fabian also killed in the first war against Voldemort, in the house clock. The Marauder’s Map, with the essence of James Potter, and his friends. Even, according to Harry's story, who-you-know-who left part of him in the diary that possessed Ginny in her first year.

With more than a thousand years of existence, it was practically impossible to know how many wizards and witches walked, studied and lived among these old stones, and each one of them left his own mark. Some would leave a barely perceptible trace, but others performed such intense episodes of magic that the traces they left behind, seemed to have a will of their own.

The hat was left with the mission of continuing to sort the students by the time the founders were gone.

The house clock, to know the status of each family member and to be able to come to their aid if necessary.

The map conspired so that the big troublemakers could keep up their mischief at school and, the diary, somehow, tried to bring Voldemort back.

This last thought plunged her spirit back into sadness and melancholy bringing back the thoughts that had made her leaves the safety of the tower of Gryffindor:

Is that really all she thinks of me? Does she really think I don't know what Cho Chang is feeling?

Like answering that question, another group of candles went out to be immediately replaced.

I can't really blame her, can I? I've never been good at expressing myself, let alone how I feel, but then again, how could I? How do you tell the most wonderful woman in the world that you're crazy for her? That you regret terribly to be a clumsy, mindless, worthless lout. Which you know you don't deserve her. That you know that you shouldn't even notice me but that you can't help but love her more than my own family, more than Harry, more than the blood that runs through my veins, more than my life itself and that knowing and feeling all that is eating me up inside. How do you tell her you feel all this and more, ‘only’, because you love her?

Ron feels that dull pain in his chest again. A veil of tears struggles to leave his eyes as he rolls his shirt sleeve over them to prevent his vision from becoming blurred, and it is when he refocuses them that he sees it. The candlestick he approaches is no longer extinguished, but seems to beat as if prompting him to approach it, and as he does so, the booklet seems to slowly separate from the rest of his companions on the shelf, prompting him to pick it up.

When Ron takes it, he feels comforting warmth in his fingers, like if the worn book is meant to convey a feeling of friendship and comfort, like if it is telling him in a mute way that everything will be all right after all. A feeling that brings back memories of the day he got his wand. Not his brother's, but his real wand.

“What do you got for me, buddy?”

There's tenderness in Ron's whisper. Any of those familiar with Hogwarts' worst-kept secret would think that the redhead is pouring out in that act and onto an object so intrinsically linked to the image of his beloved, all the love and all the delicacy that he seems unable to show her as a victim of his own inferiority complex, while unwittingly moving towards Hermione's favourite place in the library.

It's magic.

It's part of the magic that resides in every corner of Hogwarts. It is the magic trace that perhaps a long time ago, someone left to help a heart desperate to find an answer to its silent prayer and, just like it should have been long ago, when the mortified Ronald Weasley opens the book, a magic wind stirs the pages of the book showing him one of them in particular, like the old friend who gives you good advice. That's why Ron reads. He reads with such intensity that his eyes devour the words written centuries ago and as he does so his gaze gets wet. Each line is like a balm on the wounds of his tormented heart while a bright smile appears on his face. Now, Ron knows.

And when he looks up, his heart is not only filled with love for the frizzy-haired know-it-all witch, but with infinite gratitude.

Gratitude for whoever put the book on the shelf at Muggle Studies. Gratitude for the wizard or witch whose essence left such a deep mark on the old magic of the school, that it reacted to his agony and gratitude to the one who wrote the words he has just read. Words that today give him the knowledge of knowing that he is not alone, that he has never been alone. That before him, millions of men and women, wizards and witches, magicians and muggles have experienced the same feelings, confusion and agony as him, with the fortune that some of them have been so daring, so privileged in their intelligence and endowed with the gift as to be able to express them in words, and guided simply by their instinct, Ron look for parchment and quill as he begins to copy furiously. . .

Hermione Granger seemed to be sleepwalking after leaving Professor McGonagall's office. The accumulation of events that had occurred in the last few hours that she had referred, to still seemed to be getting through to her.

Mr. Weasley had been attacked in the Ministry by Voldemort's snake! And he had only escaped death because of the early warning that Harry had given.

When she woke up this morning, she was surprised not to find Harry or any of the Weasleys in the dining room, which had led to an unpleasant feeling on her chest, but what had set off all her alarms was the story from Ron and Harry's roommates. She had immediately rushed to the teachers' table, when a simple gesture from McGonagall had instructed her that this was neither the place nor the time. Something that was confirmed moments later, with the appearance of Professor Umbridge demanding to know the whereabouts of the Weasley brothers.

In her mind, she could recreate the scene as if she had been there. She was about to bet that at this moment, Harry would be oblivious to the fact that he was the one who allowed Mr. Weasley with his warning. What's more, she would bet one of her O.W.L.s marks that at this same moment Harry would be blaming himself for what happened, convinced that Arthur had been attacked simply because he was the father of his best friend and so, he would be ruminating that feeling inside himself without letting anyone penetrate the shell of isolation he would have built around him, preventing anyone from making him see the absurdity of his reasoning.

Along with this feeling, her other concern was to imagine the state of Mr. Weasley and how the rest of the family would be passing the hours.

She could imagine their reactions and the visceral fear they must have felt in their hearts, when they were woken up in the middle of the night to inform them that, their father, was struggling between life and death, the victim of a Voldemort attack.

She imagined Mrs. Weasley tried to appear strong and confident so his family wouldn't break up. To the twins, whose jokes for once could not insulate them from the merciless reality of war. To Ginny in whose mind she'd be spending her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, to. . .

“Ron!” The moan escaped from between her lips and her whole mind was focused on him.

Hermione knew of the particular connection between Mr. Weasley and his youngest son. That one that not only covered the physical aspects that he also shared with his brother Bill, but also on other much deeper levels.

She knew that his father, in an effort to raise a progeny that seemed to have been gifted with a stomach that was as voracious as a black hole, had been forced not to devote as much time to it as he would have liked, and so, Ron had been raised basically by his mother, Percy and the twins. . .

"If the way they are used to behaving with him could be called raising," she snorted under her breath as she thought, how much of Ron's insecure and explosive personality was the responsibility of that pair of troublemakers. The point was, when Mr. Weasley was partially relieved of that burden after the emancipation of the two older sons, he had tried to make up for that loss of attention by devoting more of his scarce free time, and had taken him to watch his first quidditch match with the Cannons, from which the redhead's eternal love for the lousy team, emerged.

But Hermione had found many other similarities. Both were brave, though they tried to avoid direct confrontation, noting in common  to evil or any temptation to try to abuse any situation of privilege, nevertheless they were fierce when it came to defending what they understood to be right.

Immersed in her thoughts, her legs led her to her sanctuary, that corner of the library that took her away from the usual hustle and bustle and allowed her to concentrate on her readings and the writing of her complex essays. The same corner whose window overlooked the quidditch pitch, from which, she furtively observed the training sessions of Gryffindor's team or, perhaps it would be better to say, the developments of one of the team's newest members.

As the smile insinuated itself on her face, Hermione could not help but reflect on how extraordinarily complex it was to understand Ronald Weasley.

Ron, sighed to herself.  She really couldn't understand him! There seemed to be two of them and they alternated with each other in an unpredictable way.

Ron was loyal to a fault, but sometimes he seemed a little jealous of Harry's reputation. Most of the time he behaved like an insensitive fool and yet sometimes he surprised her with gestures of infinite tenderness. She could have the funniest talk with him and tell him all the places she planned to travel when she finished school, but it was mentioning Bulgaria and Ron seemed to turn into a manticore.

When he flew over the grounds of The Burrow, he seemed to be in perfect communion with his broom. She had been surprised to discover that sometimes the twins had suddenly thrown some quaffles at him and he would alter his flight to intercept them with an almost feline grace, but it was flying over the school pitch and he becoming into a nervous mess of hands and feet struggling to hold onto his broom, with an unsettling shade of green on his face.

For the most of the people, Ron was what could be defined like a lazy who was always behind in his schoolwork and unable to perform a spell correctly during class, but, the day after she helped him complete his homework or gave him a practical demonstration on it, he seemed to be able to perform it almost perfectly and, not even then!  He seems to have a consistent line of behaviour at this point. Ron didn't seem to have the slightest interest in learning basic glamour spells, how transfiguring a rat into a chalice or making a potion to cure warts, and yet, he was perfectly capable during DA’s training, of transfiguring a cushion of The Room of Requirement into a solid block of solid stone to ward off a spell cast by Harry, while he counter-attacking him by throwing impedimenta spell that caused Harry to retreat ten yards.

And in spite of all that crazy, absurd, unrealistic and incomprehensible double personality she loved him. Oh my God, how she loved him! She couldn't understand it, but it was the truth and she knew it wasn't a young girl's crush, it was something else. She could see his faults and the weaknesses of his personality that he should try to correct, such as insecurity in himself and eternal self-comparison with his brothers and in spite of everything. . . there it was. The blurred sketch of the formidable man he was destined to become just by trying it from the bottom of her heart. A man who would make any woman's heart tremble like, he already did her own.

She was deep in thought about the irritating redhead when she discovered a parchment note carelessly folded in front of the seat she used to occupy in the library.

She opened it out of curiosity, recognizing the sloppy handwriting of the object of her tribulations as she began to read it. . .

"So, what's a teaspoon?"

As they moved along the lines of the writing, her eyes widened meanwhile one of her hands went over her chest in an unconscious attempt to calm the rampant galloping of her heart that seemed to have gone mad with the careless lines of writing.

“...To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated,

emboldened, fugitive, exasperated...”

It seemed that the world had been turned upside down and where once there was a mindless lout with the same sensitivity as a teaspoon, now there was someone who had been able to correctly interpret the verses her mind was slipping on. But that was inconceivable to Ron.

He... he really can't have been able to show me this, she thought as she began to reread thinking that she was being part of some kind of joke or enchantment the twins had left behind. A joke or a spell that should perhaps be called cruel because of all it was doing to feel  to her.

  To be fainthearted, to be bold, possessed, abrasive, tender, open, isolated, spirited, dying, dead, invigorated, loyal, treacherous, venturesome, repressed.

Not to find, without your lover, rest. To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated, emboldened, fugitive, exasperated, satisfied, offended, doubt-obsessed.

To face away from disillusionment, to swallow venom like liqueur, and quell all thoughts of gain, embracing discontent;

to believe a heaven lies within a hell, to give your soul to disillusionment; that’s love, as all who’ve tasted know too well.

 “Ro... Ron!” The exclamation escaped like a whisper from her lips while her legs seemed to waver when she completed the last line. . .

“I do”

Hermione dropped into the chair at the impending failure of her legs to hold her as the crying made its way through her chest to replace her breath with an incoherent set of hiccups and sobs meanwhile  she pressed the parchment  to her chest.

No. Ron Weasley was not the callous wart she had said, nor was the imbecile with the emotional range of a teaspoon. No, Ron was just a normal teenager in constant confusion because of the tide of hormones circulating in his blood, the emotional overload of facing feelings whose intensity she herself knew very well, the recognition of the darkness that was approaching, and right now, the boy who feared for his father's life and who would put under a thick shell all the pain and all the terror that his heart harboured for, with  an apparent indifference to avoid further anguish to his family during these times of tribulation, just as he did in the second year, when he went into the forbidden forest with Harry.

But, above all, Ron was her friend. The friend who needed her now more than ever, and as she began to write a letter to her parents explaining why she couldn't stay with them for the Christmas break, she couldn't help but notice the tremor in her hand and how her knuckles went white clutching her quill when one simple question seeped into her head:

Who- the hell- had taught Ronald Bilius Weasley what love was?

 Notes: My infinite and sincere thanks and affection to @headcanonsandmore. Without their help, it would have been impossible for me to write this text in understandable English.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219924/chapters/61129561

I would like to say, the inspiration for this work came after having a delicious chat with the author of the fic "Books" by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves ( You can find her work here in AO3).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771213

Obviously, the reference poem is not mine. I wish! The author is the Spanish poet Lope de Vega. Possibly the quill who has best expressed the feelings of love through its verses in universal poetry. The English translation was done by David Rosenthal.

[ao3feed-tomarrymort]

by Weird_Gold_Skulls

Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he likes to be called on stage, is an artist who wants to live on forever in through his music. He's so close to creating the perfect song that will make everyone bow at his feet, but he still hadn't gotten anything down on paper yet. A little over his head, but still determined, Tom goes to a music shop called Marauders of Music expecting to find some beloved classics to get a base for his hit song. What he finds instead is an infuriating music prodigy named Harry that questions his choices and goals while simultaneously quoting catchy songs every time they cross paths.

*Obviously I don't own Harry Potter, I only own my plot. *Irregular Updates

Words: 3510, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Cedric Diggory, Albus Dumbledore, Salazar Slytherin, Severus Snape, Ginny Weasley, Horace Slughorn, Rubeus Hagrid

Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Oblivious Harry Potter, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Dumbledore Bashing, Nosy Harry Potter, Developing Relationship, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't Like Don't Read, The Author Regrets Nothing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, irregular updates, WIP

[vivithefolle]

Can you rec some Ronarry fics? (Preferably long ones?) Sorry if I'm annoying you.

You’re not annoying me at all, Anon! :D Thought I’m super frustrated because I’ve read one very long fic that has Ron searching for Harry, who has amnesia and ran away to America (and is gay but nobody knew that) and Ron realizes he’s in love with Harry and the fic has about 30 chapters and it’s on FFN but I can’t find it!! x_x

Sooo… I didn’t find that many long fics but I can give you a long list of them if you want?

Beautiful FriendIt took six years for Harry to learn something in History of Magic.This one. Oh my lord this one… it’s short, but it’s amazing. It’s full of lovely lively details and Harry’s description of Ron is… aaaww.

Life DrawingDean watches, and sees something unexpected.Again, the descriptions! My lord the descriptions, and also you will relate very much to Dean if you’ve ever worked with pencils.

Something They Can Barely SeeHarry has no idea how to tell his best friend he wants more that friendship. He’s pretty sure this would be hell of a lot easier if he knew for sure how Ron felt about him.This one is plenty cute. Ron is adorable and Harry… Harry’s trying his best. :’D

Our Inner BeastsLater, Madam Pomfrey would tell them that both Bill and Ron were going to survive. But she had no idea what the effects of a werewolf bite, when the werewolf was still in human form, could do to their behavior.Okay, who’s up for writing more Creature!Ron fics? Seriously. Someone do some more of those. Here we have Ron as a werewolf, aggressive, feral, self-loathing… doesn’t matter, Harry loves him.

Running with the Wolf, Loving the Mansnapshots of Harry Potter’s life with a werewolf boyfriendFollow-up of Our Inner Beasts. Someone heard our prayers and gave us more Werewolf!Ron, and it’s as wonderful as it sounds.

What HappenedThat’s just the thing, though. He doesn’t know what happened. He can’t pinpoint a single event where everything suddenly made sense. There was no epiphany or choir of angels or aligning of stars, or any of the other rubbish Parvarti goes on about in the Great Hall. There’s no one moment when he realized, “Oh.”Ron and Harry’s friendship, only it’s not just friendship. The last line will make you want to put on some epic music.

Follow The Butterflies“Why did it have to be spiders?” Ron moaned. “Why couldn’t we follow the butterflies?” Harry privately agreed with his best friend, but if there was anything Hogwarts had taught him, then that if he didn’t do something, no one would. “I promise the next time we have to follow anything, it will be butterflies.”Harry and Ron’s friendship again, with more butterflies thrown in the mix. It’s just as perfect as it sounds. If you don’t ship Harry/Ron, this fanfic might just change your mind.

Sonnets of Magical InterferenceHarry receives some strange notes about his love life, or lack thereof.By the end of that fic, you might just cheer for a very controversial character.

HeavenHarry’s heaven includes Ron.Features Ron being emotional over a movie, Chinese takeout, and Harry being a sap. What more could you ask for?

Harry Potter And The World That Went Bloody Insane“I know something you don’t know” is, apparently, the essence of Harry Potter’s love life. Harry’s certain that the world has been reading one too many romance novels, but then, Harry’s always been a bit oblivious.Featuring Protective!Attentive!Caring!Ron and Oblivious!Harry in their stinky flat and everyone shipping Harry/Ron. It’s awesome.

Check MateHarry questions his dreams, Ron has a scary one of his own, Hermione and Cho plot, and Seamus and Dean obsess.Harry’s subconscious has lots of funny ideas. Ron is ridiculously cute. Might be a bit difficult to read because of FFN’s shitty formating for line breaks.

On The OutsideHarry doesn’t think there’s much point to his being gay. He can’t have regular sex, he can’t have children, and he can’t tell his best friend he’s in love with him.Ron is utterly adorable, do I really have to say it? Why, yes, yes I do.

Newton’s LawFor every action, there is an equal and opposite reactionCheck out this author’s other Harry/Ron fics. I especially like Brass Ring; in the meantime, have a rather in-character reaction of Hermione and Ginny finding out about their ex-boyfriends dating. Hey, not my fault if JKR doesn’t know how to write strong female characters without making them abusive.

Sleeping BeautyThe most gen ever retelling of Sleeping Beauty.Who cares if it’s gen, it’s amazing. Harry sleeps, Ron is wonderful, and ants get colorful.

The Complexities Of Muggle MachineryHarry bought a refrigerator. Then it was a microwave. Then a blender. Thursday was the coffee brewer. Ron really liked that last one.Ron is absolutely, heart-stoppingly, adorably cute and pretty much just like I imagine him to be around Muggle things. Harry’s lucky.

After the cupcakesThey never really talked about it but they are each other’s world. And perhaps a lazy Sunday morning is as good a time as any to finally say something.Utterly sappy and fluffy and you know me, I was mostly there for Harry’s description of Ron. It didn’t disappoint.

Sing Your LoveThroughout the years they’ve lived together, Harry has always enjoyed Ron’s singing but lately he’s been picking up hidden messages in his flatmate’s song choices.Do you like Ron singing? Do you like Ron dancing? Do you like Ron crying his heart out over an emotionally oblivious Harry? Well in that case you’ve found the perfect fic!

Snakes & LaddersAfter the final battle with Voldemort, Harry intends to get on with his life. There’s just one problem; he was supposed to have died when he confronted Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest and now the Other Side is trying to collect him. But in the space between his ‘death’ and the victory celebrations, Harry’s fallen in love… and he’s not going to give up his second chance without a fight.A complicated premise, a complicated tale, a very worried Ron, a very determined Harry, an entirely unwelcome Severus Snape coming from beyond the Veil, all leading up to an epic confrontation in the Other Side. Who knew the afterlife had a court?

Now, it’s time for… TEH SMUT! D:Every story below this text will have MATURE CONTENT. Shoo, children, shoo!

Partners (last chapter gets NSFW)What if the girls hadn’t come in just then?  What course of action would Harry, in his desperate frame of mind, have latched onto instead?This fanfic made one of my most desperate wishes come true. For those who don’t know me, I’ll just tell you that Cinderella isn’t a matter of gender.

Scars (warning: mentions of self-harm)Ron is embarrassed of his scars, and Harry might be able to help.Ron is his terribly self-loathing self, but at least Harry is there to remind him of what we Ron-lovers know: that he’s loved and beautiful.

The Matchmaker (contains sexual mention)Sir Nicholas has never had a couple like these two…Nearly-Headless Nick ships Harry and Ron. So does the entire Gryffindor House. All in all, just what we need.

Exploring The Spectrum (NSFW at the end)Ron wakes up to find he can only see in a single colour.Very interesting mystery and clever use of a forgotten plot point. The resolution is basically “sex solves everything” but otherwise it’s a great story.

Hug! Hug! Kiss! (second-to-last drabble is NSFW)Ron loses Harry in a foreign land. In other words, Harry accidentally joins a Japanese boy band.This story is ridiculous, confusing, crazy, and absolutely hilarious. No existing celebrities were harmed.

Just Another Teenage Epoch - Ron Weasley, 1999 (NSFW at the end)Ron wants to be an Auror, and he wants to not grow up, and he really wants other people to stop kissing Harry.The classic mistletoe tale! Ron is not amused at all. It’s okay, we’re rooting for him (and Harry is, too).

Trapped in Winter (NSFW at the end)Harry and Ron have an argument. When Ron goes to storm out of the room, he’s frozen in time, and when Harry touches him to see what’s the matter, they’re both transported to a snowy winter wonderland.A surprising premise that leads to a confused, hurt Ron and a tight-lipped Harry, and of course, to Harry/Ron. Pretty nice!

That We Might Be Exactly Like We Were (warning: graphic self-harm, realistic depression, themes of suicide)'Everything just takes me back, to when you were there…’This author pretty much nails what depression is like. She also has several other Harry/Ron fanfics that are written just as expertly as this one, but be forewarned, they tend to deal with very upsetting topics as well. Sadly, I could see her version of Ron existing in the canon we know.

Slow Slide (get out) to a Better Place (warning: abuse and r*pe)Harry told himself that everything was fine in his relationship with Ginny, at least until he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. And by then, he thought it might be too late.  Fortunately, he has two very good friends who will always be there for him, one of whom might eventually be something more.Downside: Ginny fans should NOT read this story. Upside: contains Vivi’s most beloved ship, Romione + Ronarry.

Prelude and Fugue (NSFW in the middle)It took over an hour, from the time Harry arrived at work, for him to realise just how different today actually was.The “Groundhog Day” loop is wonderfully done, you can actually feel the weariness building as Harry wakes up and notices it’s still Monday, bloody Monday.And Ron is absolutely adorable - yes, I’ll say it every time!

Princes of Maine (NSFW at the end)Harry wakes one morning to find an abandoned baby on his doorstep. Little does he know that this is only the beginning of his most challenging adventure yet: parenthood.You want Harry as a single parent and not knowing anything about babies? You have it. You want Ron as a competent Healer who’s sick of Harry’s shit and determined to get answers as to why his best mate is a wreck? You have it. You want Harry/Ron? What are you waiting for, dive in!

Still looking for more? Take a look at this post!

[ao3feed-snape]

A Song of Change

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2xFs6vd

by Weird_Gold_Skulls

Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he likes to be called on stage, is an artist who wants to live on forever in through his music. He's so close to creating the perfect song that will make everyone bow at his feet, but he still hadn't gotten anything down on paper yet. A little over his head, but still determined, Tom goes to a music shop called Marauders of Music expecting to find some beloved classics to get a base for his hit song. What he finds instead is an infuriating music prodigy named Harry that questions his choices and goals while simultaneously quoting catchy songs every time they cross paths.

*Obviously I don't own Harry Potter, I only own my plot. *Irregular Updates

Words: 3510, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Cedric Diggory, Albus Dumbledore, Salazar Slytherin, Severus Snape, Ginny Weasley, Horace Slughorn, Rubeus Hagrid

Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Oblivious Harry Potter, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Dumbledore Bashing, Nosy Harry Potter, Developing Relationship, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't Like Don't Read, The Author Regrets Nothing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, irregular updates, WIP

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2xFs6vd

[deardudley]

potions partners (draco x reader)

in which draco is a little shit and both of you are a wee bit oblivious to emotions

Word Count: 5,098

Request: “Could you do an imagine where Draco’s crushing on a Gryffindor and does everything he can to be partnered with her and stuff to show his affection?” // @dolphindewott

Warnings: cussing and sexually explicit language

A/N: i actually went so overboard with this, im sorry to anyone who reads this super extra 5k word thing

Your name: submit

Your surname: submit What is this?

You’d only given in because you were, unfortunately, alone.

Potions class with Slytherin was the one part of the week you always dreaded. It was one thing to be stuck in a room for an hour with a bunch of Slytherins, but a whole other thing to be stuck in a room for an hour with a bunch of Slytherins and an odd number of fifth year Gryffindors. As a result, you were forced to partner with a random Slytherin in almost every lesson.

And today, it was Draco fucking Malfoy.

You stumbled into the potions classroom just a few seconds before the bell rang, earning you a nasty glare from Professor Snape.

“Sorry, Professor,” you said with a sheepish grimace as you passed him, scurrying to get to the last available seat in the room. Without looking to see who was next to you (you expected Millicent Bulstrode again, for what would be the fifth class in a row), you dropped your bag next to your worktable and rolled up your sleeves with a heavy sigh.

“Today, you will be brewing a mild Pepperup Potion,” Snape drawled with his signature sneer. Flourishing his wand, the ingredients and instructions were etched onto the blackboard with a levitating piece of chalk. “It is an astoundingly simple potion, and I expect the most of you will be able to brew it correctly.

You met Ron’s exasperated glance from the workspace next to yours.

“Assuming,” Snape continued, “that you’re not daft. You may begin.”

Ron chuckled and grinned in your direction. You smiled back, but by then, he had already turned back to Harry so they could begin their potion.

You didn’t even bother with a sigh, and instead looked at the person to your right. You had to do a double take when you saw Slytherin’s beloved platinum-haired prince next to you.

“Malfoy?” you spoke, the disgust and surprise both evident in your voice. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Parkinson or Zabini, or one of the trolls you call your friends?”

“(Y/L/N),” he greeted, looking at the ingredients instead of meeting your eyes. “In case you couldn’t see, Blaise and Pansy are working together today, as are Crabbe and Goyle. Do you need glasses, or are you simply daft?”

“B-b… I…” You sputtered with a scrunched nose. “Is there no person you could switch with? I’d rather work with Neville’s toad.”

“Do you see any Slytherins here who are willing to switch with me?” He raised an eyebrow in your direction, scoffed, and then looked back to the board. “You can work with Longbottom’s toad if you fancy, though. I’m not stopping you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you muttered, not enjoying the way he snickered at you in response. But you were relieved when he didn’t say anything back, and instead handed you some mandrake root and a knife.

You worked in silence for a good five minutes, only sparing the occasional glance towards the boy next to you. His normally pale face was flushed pink and his eyes were trained on the ingredients on the table. Sweat dripped from your foreheads; the flames lit under all the cauldrons caused the room to heat up far past the point of comfort.

“Can you reduce the flame?” Malfoy eventually said, wiping perspiration from his forehead. He was mincing the beetle eyes as you measured some castor oil for a later step.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, waving your wand at the heat source. That was the last time the two of you spoke for the rest of the hour-long lesson.

For the first time in ages, you managed to get into the potions room a couple minutes before the bell signalled the beginning of class. You’d been coming from Arithmancy instead of Ancient Runes like usual; Professor Vector’s class was closer to the dungeons than Professor Babbling’s.

When you shuffled into the cold Potions room, you saw that most of your Gryffindor friends had already arrived, as had most of the Slytherins. You started gnawing on your bottom lip, hands clutching the strap of your bag. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a desk with a lone Slytherin who wouldn’t seem to mind a generally unwanted intrusion.

You were going to give up and sit at an empty desk when you saw Malfoy, alone at a worktable with a book curled in his long and slender fingers. His eyes were focused, but he seemed to have noticed your stare because he glanced up, shooting you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes in response but walked over and set your bag next to the table.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked with unrelenting caution, eyebrow raised.

“If you don’t prefer Longbottom’s toad then no, I don’t mind,” he said back, just loud enough for you to hear. You were silent for a moment, then let out an ungraceful snort.

“You know, you could probably be funny if you tried, Malfoy,” you joked, and he chuckled a little in response. You weren’t sure if it was normal to feel a shred of pride at making the infamous Slytherin prince laugh, but you did anyways.

The next class, you heavily congratulated yourself on not being late.

Professor Binns had let you all out of class early. Peeves had flown into the room and dropped a couple dungbombs (likely with the help of the Weasley twins), so the professor had released you and left to go nap in his office.

You walked with Harry, Ron, and Hermione to Potions, teasing Harry about his not-so-small crush on Cho and whatnot. When you got the the dungeon, class had only just been dismissed, so you went in and snagged seats in the back. Your friends went to the left-hand side of the room (where the Gryffindors tended to gather) and you moved to the seat you and Malfoy had been sharing recently.

Malfoy, Parkinson, and Zabini walked in a couple minutes later. You were reading your History of Magic textbook, trying to get a headstart on the essay due by your next lesson. As a result, you didn’t notice it when Zabini smirked at seeing you alone, closer to the so-called Slytherin side of the room.

“You don’t mind if I sit next to (Y/L/N), do you, Draco?” he asked, eyebrow raised as if it were a challenge. Draco just shrugged in response.

Zabini sauntered over and set his bag on the table, which caught your attention.

“Good afternoon, (Y/N),” he greeted, almost laughing at how you furrowed your eyebrows at the sight of him.

“You’re… not Malfoy,” you eventually said, setting your textbook down and turning to face him. “What are you doing here, Zabini? Shouldn’t you be over with Parkinson or Nott or… someone of the sort?”

Zabini smiled at you, moving his bag to the floor.

“Observant. No, I am not Draco,” he said. “I just realized that I’m one of the only Slytherins who hasn’t sat with you so far, and Draco and Millicent have been hogging you to themselves lately. Selfish buggers.” He threw a smirk at you that you supposed was an attempt at being charming. “Anyways, you can call me Blaise. No need for formalities.”

You scoffed, shoving your textbook into your bag and refusing to make eye contact with the irritating Slytherin. “Well, Zabini,” you hissed, “I don’t think I like you that much so far. Believe it or not, the Slytherin girls gossip a lot when I sit with them, you know, so I think I’ll go and sit over there. Away from you.”

You were about to pick up your bag and leave when Malfoy came up, stood next to you, and patted​ Zabini on the shoulder.

“Aye, Blaise, go piss off someone else, yeah? Leave my potions partner alone.” He removed his hand from Zabini’s shoulder and stepped back, closer to you. “Besides, you know this is my favourite desk, so get lost. Pansy says she’ll go insane if you leave her with Theo or Daphne again, you know how she gets when she hears them nag.”

Zabini just smirked at Malfoy, picked up his things, and left.

You sigh in relief, turning and smiling at Malfoy.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” you chirped, visibly relaxing in your chair. “I think I would’ve hexed him if he’d spoken to me again.”

He chuckled, got his potions textbook from his rather expensive-looking bag, and started flipping through it. You followed suit, getting your textbook as well as quill and ink to take notes in the margins.

“I’d prefer Neville’s toad to him any day,” you mumbled, and you thought nobody could hear you until Draco started laughing — a real, full-blown laugh that soon had him clutching at his stomach. The first few seconds were surprising. He looked softer when he laughed; happier, and younger. His lips, otherwise drawn into a smirk or a sneer, looked much better when he was smiling, and his rambunctious and loud cackles soon had you laughing as well. Ten seconds later and you were both busting at the seams, unaware of the fact that your housemates were staring at you. You were oblivious.

That night, in the common room, you were studying with Hermione when she brought it up.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” she started, voice wavering and eyes meeting yours with caution.

“What’s up, Mione?” you asked, then closed your book because the look she was giving you was worrying you a bit.

“You… uh… hold on a sec.”

She dropped her textbook onto the coffee table in front of you and scuttled across the room to where Harry and Ron were playing a game of chess. There were hushed whispers for half a minute, and eventually they all came over and sat on the couch while you were in an armchair.

They all seemed uncomfortable until Hermione blurted out a question.

“(Y/N), you and Malfoy don’t… you don’t fancy one another, do you?” she asked in a dropped whisper, eyes darting around the room. “Because before potions today, you two seemed a little… you know… close.”

You raised an eyebrow, set down your History of Magic book, and tried not to laugh.

“Are people actually worried about that?” you eventually asked, smirking in a way that reminded them a bit too much of Malfoy. “He and I are potions partners, guys. Potions partners. That doesn’t mean anything.”

They all still seemed worried when you packed your things and headed back to your dorm. That night, you dreamt of hexing Blaise Zabini.

A couple days later, you walked into class three seconds late (“Late again and it’s a detention reorganizing my store room, Miss (Y/L/N)”, met with a “Sorry, Professor Snape”). Malfoy was waiting for you with his cloak already removed and tie loosened.

“Morning, (Y/L/N),” he said, grinned for a split second, then turned to the instructions Snape had scribbled on the blackboard.

“Good morning, Malfoy,” you sighed​, yawned, scratched​ the back of your neck.

He looked up at you for a couple seconds.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” he asked you with his eyes narrowed. “You seem tired.”

“I am,” you grumbled. “I didn’t get my regular nap in Professor Binns’ class.”

He laughed at you, gave you a handful of beetle eyes, and got to work counting lacewing flies.

You had to force yourself to not smile.

Transfiguration the next day was an oddly similar class to Potions.

You walked in (almost late), suffered your usual scolding glance from McGonagall, and went to grab the last seat. That was normally next to Parvati and Lavender, both of whom liked to gossip about some of your fellow Gryffindors.

When you looked to your left and saw Draco Malfoy (Transfiguration was yet another class you shared with Slytherin), you just rolled your eyes.

“Seems like you’re sitting next to me on purpose, Malfoy,” you stated as you retrieved your wand from your bag. “First Potions, now Transfiguration? Don’t be too eager, people are already getting suspicious.”

He scoffed, whispering to you when McGonagall had started the lesson.

“Oh, I’d bet you wish I was sitting next to you on purpose,” he teased with a smirk. “Blaise and Pansy are both being whiny arses about Charms class and it was pissing me off, so I moved over here. I had no clue that you’d be late and have to sit here, but I probably should’ve guessed. Being on-time doesn’t seem to be your forte.”

“I’m only late to this, Potions, and Charms,” you defended with a huff.

“If you say so, (Y/N),” he murmured, eyes still trained on your Professor. “If you say so.”

“I do say so!” you replied indignantly, before freezing as you digested his words.

“Wait, did you just call me (Y/N)?!” you whisper-yelled, which caused McGonagall to whip her head towards you.

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss (Y/L/N)! Pay attention, both of you!” she snapped with a warning glance.

“Sorry, Professor,” you recited in unison, not meeting one another’s eyes.

“Malfoy just wait, for fuck’s sake! I just want to talk to you!”

You chased after Malfoy, walking right at his tail. You were trying with desperation to talk about what had happened in Transfiguration, but the stubborn blond refused to talk to you.

“Fuck off, (Y/L/N),” he hissed at you, stopping and whipping around in the hallway. “Really, fuck off. I won’t talk to you because there is nothing to talk about. It was a tiny slip-up.”

You sighed and shifted your bag in your hands.

“But, Draco—” you started, trying to reason, before you were cut off.

He grabbed your arm and shoved you into the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs. His chest was flush against yours, and his breathing was deep and erratic.

“Don’t do that. Don’t call me Draco,” he snarled. Then he released your arm and left you there in the hall, back pressed against the stone wall of the corridor.

“And then he just shoved me into the fucking wall! What kind of asshole does that? What if I’d gotten a concussion?! Fuck him.”

You were (aggressively) hugging a teddy bear, sitting on your best friend’s bed. Ginny Weasley had noticed your anger, then proceeded to drag you into her dorm and onto her bed when you refused to talk to her.

“Maybe you do wanna fuck him,” she suggested, and you gasped.

“Ginny, ew! I don’t like Malfoy. We’re just potions partners, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re making an awful lot of an effort to get to know your potions partner then, (Y/N).”

You just sighed, set down the teddy bear you often grabbed when ranting to her, and took her hand to drag her to the Great Hall. You were hungry, you didn’t want to talk about Malfoy anymore, and it was dinner time.

When you arrived, your eyes wandered, looking for Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. As soon as you spotted them, you and Ginny walked over and took a seat next to them. You were on Ron’s right, Ginny across from you. Harry was on Ron’s other side. Neville was across from Harry, Hermione across from Ron.

“Hey, g—”

“(Y/N) wants to have sex with Malfoy.”

You rolled your eyes, kicking your best friend under the table.

“I can promise you that having sex with him is the last thing on my mind right now,” you assured everyone, almost laughing at Ron, who whipped around to face you with a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

He tried talking through his mouth of food, but Hermione scolded him before he could get half a word out.

He took a few second to chew and swallow, then said, “You better not want anything to do with that slimy git.”

You shook your head.

“The only thing I like about him is that he’s a much better partner than any of the other Slytherins I’ve had to work with,” you confessed. “He never really talks, and he’s quite good at Potions, too.”

Ron scoffed, mouth already full again, but didn’t talk because of a sharp glare from Hermione.

“Just…” Hermione sighed. “Just be careful with him, okay? I don’t trust him.”

Your friends all nodded in agreement, and you just smiled and dug into your potatoes.

“(Y/L/N).”

“Malfoy.”

When Malfoy walked into the class your next lesson, you were beyond surprised when he strode right over to you and sat next to you, despite the fact that there was an open seat next to Blaise Zabini, and another next to Theodore Nott. Either way, you elected not to say anything on the matter, just greeted him and went back to your textbook.

Everything was silent between you two, and the tension was so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. He had shoved you against a wall.

“Listen, (Y/L/N),” he said about thirty seconds after sitting. “I… I didn’t mean what happened yesterday. Sorry if I hurt your head or something.”

Your eyes went wide.

“Did I just get an apology from the infamous Draco Malfoy?” you gasped, whipping around to face him. “Oh lord, I’ll never let you live that down. I will bring that up every lesson from now on, I swear on it.”

“Do that and you’ll have to find yourself a new partner,” he huffed.

“Neville’s toad?” you suggested.

You were relieved when he cracked a smile at you.

You were walking back to the common room with Harry, Ron, and Hermione when you heard the voice.

“Oi! (Y/N)!”

You turned around, then raised your eyebrow at the sight of Draco Malfoy walking down the hallway without Tweedledum and Tweedledumber.

You leaned against the wall, waiting for him to catch up with you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“What do you want with (Y/N), Malfoy?” Harry sneered, taking a protective step towards you. “Leave her alone, yeah?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Relax, Potter, it’s got nothing to do with you.” He turned to face you. “You forgot your textbook in Potions.”

He handed you a large Arithmancy textbook, and you smiled.

“Thank you, Dra— er, Malfoy,” you said in reply, hugging the book into your chest. “I dunno what I would’ve done without it, I have a load of Arithmancy homework. You’re a lifesaver.”

He smiled at you for a split second, then sneered at your friends, and finally started walking down the hallway again. You all watched him disappear around the corner.

“He called you (Y/N),” Hermione said, smile threatening to slip onto her pursed lips. “I thought you said you were just potions partners?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, shooting Hermione a glare that didn’t actually hold any malice. “I need to go to the library. I have homework I have to get started on. See you lot at dinner, yeah?”

Your friends bid you adieu, and you hurried off in the direction Malfoy had gone. You turned the same corner he had and saw his retreating form; his hands were shoved into his pockets, bag slung in a seemingly careless way over his shoulder. You huffed out a sigh and jogged to catch up with him.

“Hey, Draco!” you said, smile widening when he turned around. His facial features softened at the sight of you. “Are you going to the library? Because I was planning on working on that potions essay, and I was hoping we could, you know, work together?”

Your voice was hopeful, and you felt rather vulnerable as you stood and looked Malfoy in the eye, hands gripping at the strap of your bag.

“We are potions partners, after all,” he shrugged, corner of his mouth just barely tilting up into a smile. You just smiled back and started walking, allowing him to fall into step beside you.

Sometimes, you really hated your friends.

Ron and Hermione had, yet again, gotten into one of their meaningless little squabbles and left you and Harry in the middle of it; your entire walk to the dungeons from the Arithmancy classroom was just a long, unendurable rant from Hermione on how immature and irritating Ron was being. Not willing or patient enough to put up with the pair’s antics, you and Harry had snagged seats near the middle of the room, leaving the others to deal with their issues without you.

As soon as Draco and his group of friends sauntered into the room, the platinum-haired menace’s eyes were searching for you. When he spotted you with Harry, he sneered and left his friends behind without another word.

“Potter, bugger off,” he half-snarled. “(Y/N) is my potions partner, yeah? Why aren’t you with Weasel-bee or Granger?”

“Draco,” you warned, hiding your look of confusion at his sudden outburst. “Just leave it.”

Harry ignored your words of caution to Malfoy and scoffed.

“Since when are you and (Y/N) on first-name basis?” he asked, and your stomach churned when the Slytherin’s cheeks turned a faint pink colour.

“Oh shove it, Potter,” he grumbled.

Then, without warning, Draco quite literally hoisted you up and draped you over his shoulder, walking towards your usual table.

“Draco!” you cried with indignation. “Draco, bloody hell, put me down!”

“Language, Miss (Y/L/N),” drawled Professor Snape, and you were just barely offended at the fact that he didn’t even notice when you were quite literally carried across the room by a fuming Slytherin boy.

A second later, you were set down on your usual chair, an amused crowd of Slytherins and Gryffindors watching your interactions.

“What in the bloody hell was that for, Draco?!” you huffed, slamming your bag onto the table with a glare. “What in the bloody hell was the purpose of that?”

Draco sneered in Harry’s direction, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t like sharing,” was his simple reply.

“Brat,” you sighed, but elected to stay put and not move to sit with Harry again. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Otherwise, you’d be stuck with Longbottom’s toad,” was his reply, and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that soon bubbled from your lips in response.

Across the room, Ron sighed and slipped Hermione a handful of sickles under the table.

“I’m telling you, (Y/N), Malfoy has a crush on you!”

Hermione and Ginny sat on either side of you in the common room that same evening, the three of you occupying a couch. For a solid five minutes, they’d been pestering you about the whole fiasco during Potions class; they insisted that the infamous Draco Malfoy was harbouring a crush on you. The more ridiculous aspect to it, though, was that they thought you liked him back. Sure, maybe he had a nice face, and he looked kinda cute when he smiled at you, and he was surprisingly easy to joke around with… but there was absolutely no way you liked him back. Absolutely not. No way, José. Impossible.

“He does not!” you declared, eyes glued to your Charms textbook.

“(Y/N), mate,” Ron said as he settled himself into an armchair next to you, “sorry to say it, but it looks like he does. A bloke doesn’t carry a girl away from another bloke just because they’re potions partners.

“Maybe Draco does,” you said, not missing a beat.

“Oh, you’re right. Maybe Draco dearest does.”

“I do not speak like that! And not once have I called him… called him that!” You tried to defend yourself, but your friends just laughed harder.

“I need new friends,” you huffed, gathering your things to bring with you to your dormitory.

The last thing you heard before your retreat upstairs was Ginny’s chirp of “Go find Draco!” and her statement being met with laughs (at your expense) from your friends.

The next class, you beelined to your regular seat next to the already waiting Draco, ignoring the glances sent your way by Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Morning, Draco,” you greeted curtly, refusing to make eye contact with the blond.

He raised an eyebrow at you, responded with a cautious “good morning” and stared at you with a frown.

“Everything okay, (Y/N)?” he asked, and you just nodded in response.

He seemed to drop the topic and went back to the book he was cradling in his long and slender fingers — upon actually looking at it, you were pleased to see it was a book of poetry you’d given to him a few days prior.

“Why are you always reading those muggle books?”

You and Draco had been sitting in the courtyard together, backs leant against a large oak tree. Draco was doing a potions essay that you were planning on putting off until the last minute, and you were reading a book of poetry you’d bought on your last trip to a small bookstore near your house. His question lacked a heated or  judgemental tone; it was a genuine wonder.

“Muggles have written quite a lot of wonderful literature,” you countered. “They’re quite talented, you know.”

Draco scoffed, and you rolled your eyes.

“There are a lot of great muggle authors, Draco! William Blake, Scott F. Fitzgerald, Shakespeare—”

“Wizard.”

Draco didn’t look up from his parchment when he interrupted you.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows scrunched in moderate confusion.

“Shakespeare was a wizard. Didn’t you know?”

The smirk was evident in his tone, yet you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course he was,” you mused, then closed your book. Wordlessly, you slid it across the grass to Draco while hiding a smile.

“Just check it out sometime, yeah?” you asked, tilting your head. “It’s a good book, really! Just trust me on it.”

“Alright,” he acquiesced. “Fine. Just do your potions essay, then I’ll be happy.”

You nudged him with your foot but didn’t respond.

You stared at his hands for a few seconds before chuckling in a sheepish manner.

“This sounds ridiculous, I know,” you began, eyes darting back to your fiddling hands, “but the others… they think you’re, like, in love with me or something.”

Draco stayed quiet for a bit, smirked, then went back to his (your) book.

Class began minutes later, and it was while you were measuring Skin of Boomslang that he spoke again.

“What about you?”

You turned to face him.

“What… what do they think about you?”

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and the blood rushed to your face at his question.

“They, uh… they think I’m in love with you too.”

No other words were shared between you for the rest of the lesson, but you saw the smirk on his lips out of the corner of your eye.

When Snape dismissed you, you and Draco cleaned up your workspaces silently but efficiently, and you managed to finish before most of the other pairs in the room. Normally, the two of you would go to the courtyard or the library to study together, and as you walked for the door, the tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife. You were fairly certain your friends could sense it.

You reached your favourite oak tree and sat beneath it, indefinitely refusing to make eye contact with Draco.

Half an hour later, he pulled your poetry book from his bag, set it next to you, mumbled a quiet thank you, and got up to leave. You sat in silence until there were five minutes until free period ended, when you opened the book to the first page.

In it was what seemed like a bookmark at first, until you turned it over to see writing scrawled in black ink. You knew the handwriting as soon as you looked at it.

They were right.

You smiled to yourself, tucked the paper back into the book, and went off to join Harry and Ron in Care of Magical Creatures.

The next morning — a Saturday — you elected not to answer any of the overenthusiastic questions directed your way by the idiots you called your friends. They demanded to know what had happened between you and Draco the day before, but you insisted that everything was normal. To prove your point, you smiled and waved at him upon entering the Great Hall, and he raised his eyebrows back at you.

“See? Perfectly normal,” you said.

You sat first, in a place you knew was visible to Draco. Without getting food, you opened the book you had carried with you into the Hall.

You could feel his gaze on you, and you looked up to meet it. He smirked at you, and you smirked back in a way that your friends decided made you look eerily similar to Draco.

A few minutes later, you got up to leave (met with a “But you haven’t eaten anything yet!” from Ron), and Draco followed a bit after you.

He found you under your oak tree, still reading the book; you were fairly certain he’d made the connection back in the Great Hall. Without saying anything, he came up and sat right next to you. Your heart was beating rapidly out of control. It felt as though it was trying to escape from the tight confines of your chest in anticipation.

“So, (Y/N)—” he started, but you cut him off in a rather effective way.

In a sudden storm of confidence, you turned to face Draco whilst setting your book next to you in the grass. You grabbed his tie — he’d abandoned his robes, just wearing his button-up and tie instead — and pulled him towards you, firmly planting your lips on his.

He immediately responded to you.

His hand came up to cup your cheek in an impossibly light caress. His other hand moved to the small of your back and you just melted into his touch; he kissed you softly at first, and then his presence was pervading into yours and you became oh-so dizzy. There was so much of him but not enough at the same time. His tongue probed your mouth. You were completely, absolutely breathless.

You pulled away, chest heaving and stomach fluttering. For a while, you were both silent; then you broke out into a fit of giggles and Draco soon followed suit. He pressed his forehead against yours and you reached out, grabbed his hand, and squeezed.

In that moment, you decided that Draco Malfoy was the best potions partner you’d ever had.

[ao3feed-harrydraco]

by Weird_Gold_Skulls

Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he likes to be called on stage, is an artist who wants to live on forever in through his music. He's so close to creating the perfect song that will make everyone bow at his feet, but he still hadn't gotten anything down on paper yet. A little over his head, but still determined, Tom goes to a music shop called Marauders of Music expecting to find some beloved classics to get a base for his hit song. What he finds instead is an infuriating music prodigy named Harry that questions his choices and goals while simultaneously quoting catchy songs every time they cross paths.

*Obviously I don't own Harry Potter, I only own my plot. *Irregular Updates

Words: 390, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Cedric Diggory, Albus Dumbledore, Salazar Slytherin, Severus Snape, Ginny Weasley, Horace Slughorn, Rubeus Hagrid

Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Oblivious Harry Potter, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Dumbledore Bashing, Nosy Harry Potter, Developing Relationship, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't Like Don't Read, The Author Regrets Nothing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, irregular updates, WIP