#she is a stone cold ravenclaw and just wants her answers

[bluethepineapple]

Reconciling Kindness and Callousness: A Discussion on Hermione and Emotions

One of the aspects that people struggle a lot with when it comes to Hermione is how she deals with emotions. This is a struggle that I, personally, find to be fair because she is quite complex in this regard.

Hermione can analyze people's emotional states well and is often shown manipulating emotions to get what she wants. We can see this as early as Philosopher's Stone where she, for example, flatters Hagrid to get him to reveal more information about the Stone.

“Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here,” said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid’s beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. “We only wondered who had done the guarding, really.” Hermione went on. “We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.”

As the series goes on, we will find more and more examples of Hermione perceiving, analyzing, responding, and even using other people's emotions with great accuracy and sensitivity. Most notable perhaps is her explaining Cho's emotional state to Harry and Ron in OotP, but several smaller examples are littered all over the books like her being the first to notice Neville's distress in GoF, correctly reading Harry's feelings about the Goblet of Fire, and giving a similar analysis for Tonks in HBP among other.

For as many examples as we can give of her perceptiveness and sensitivity to emotions, it also cannot be denied that Hermione commits massive social blunders over the series, many of which are attributable to emotional stupidity or failing to read the room. Most notable perhaps is her reaction to the death of Lavender's bunny where she uses it as a jumping point to try and convince her of the bogusness of Divination. There are many other examples of course, ranging from her haranguing Harry and Ron early in PS, to her approach with the house-elves, to insisting Harry teach them DADA in OotP despite his obvious discomfort.

How does one then reconcile Hermione's great sensitivity to people's emotions with her just as great callousness, both being prominent and consistent aspects of her character all throughout the series.

To me the answer is three-fold.

First, Hermione is incredibly cerebral even when it comes to emotions.

It is worth noting that Hermione's assessments of people aren't actually instinctive or even very empathetic. Rather, they are often profiles she builds about people based on observation and inference.

Let us take a look at the way she dissects Cho's feelings for example:

“Well, obviously, she’s feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she’s feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can’t work out who she likes best. Then she’ll be feeling guilty, thinking it’s an insult to Cedric’s memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she’ll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can’t work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that’s all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she’s afraid she’s going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she’s been flying so badly.”

Hermione says what Cho's feeling and then follows it up with the circumstances that might have created those feelings plus her evidence for them. She lays everything out in a clean and methodical manner very reminiscent to when she's lecturing the boys about some sort of fact in their missions.

While certainly not cold or emotionless, it does become readily apparent that Hermione processes the emotions of people around her the same way she processes most other forms of information. She "studies" people around her, and from there, builds a baseline of information against which she infers what they are feeling and decides how to respond accordingly. In many ways, people's emotions to her are information just like any other.

Secondly, as kind and as warm as Hermione is, she prioritizes problem-solving over caretaking and is amazing at compartmentalizing emotions away if that's what it takes to get things done.

The fact that she understands what someone else is going through does not always mean she prioritizes these feelings. As mentioned above, what she understands of other people's emotions is just another bit of information she holds - and how she uses these facts vary wildly depending on whichever problem she was trying to solve at the time. Whenever she makes a social blunder, it is almost always traceable to her needing to solve some problem first and insisting on solutions that require significant emotional costs from the people around her.

The most extreme version of this is probably her insisting that Ron focus on their mission right after Fred dies.

They seemed to be wrestling together, and for one mad second Harry thought that they were embracing again; then he saw that Hermione was trying to restrain Ron, to stop him running after Percy. “Listen to me—LISTEN RON!” “I wanna help—I wanna kill Death Eaters—” His face was contorted, smeared with dust and smoke, and he was shaking with rage and grief. “Ron, we’re the only ones who can end it! Please—Ron—we need the snake, we’ve got to kill the snake!” said Hermione. But Harry knew how Ron felt: Pursuing another Horcrux could not bring the satisfaction of revenge; he too wanted to fight, to punish them, the people who had killed Fred, and he wanted to find the other Weasleys, and above all make sure, make quite sure, that Ginny was not—but he could not permit that idea to form in his mind— “We will fight!” Hermione said. “We’ll have to, to reach the snake! But let’s not lose sight now of what we’re supposed to be d-doing! We’re the only ones who can end it!” She was crying too, and she wiped her face on her torn and singed sleeve as she spoke, but she took great heaving breaths to calm herself as, still keeping a tight hold on Ron, she turned to Harry. "You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he’ll have the snake with him, won’t he? Do it, Harry—look inside him!”

From the section I bolded, it is obvious that Hermione knows that Ron is grieving and that she too is feeling the horror of Fred's death as well. It is worth noting though that she doesn't actually spare any words to comfort Ron. She doesn't stop to talk him through his feelings - rather she is telling him over and over that their mission has to come first. They both watched Fred die, but her focus even now is seeing the mission through.

This leads us to the final aspect:

Hermione projects this ability to compartmentalize to the people around her, especially when she believes them to be working together.

It is noteworthy that not only did Hermione set her own emotions aside, she asked that Ron do so too. And when Ron finally calms down, she then asks Harry to go and look into Voldemort's head. Not only is she compartmentalizing her own emotions away, she expects both boys to do so too.

Once more, there are many smaller instances like the above that cropped up all over the series. The Lavender problem, her campaign with the house-elves, her insistence that Harry teaches them DADA, her many many arguments with Harry - all of these are traceable to her insistence on setting emotion aside to solve a problem.

Doing the right thing holds primacy over people's feelings - both her own and those of the people around her.

Conclusion:

Hermione is a sensitive individual who reads people's emotions well and has many times reacted with great kindness and empathy to distress. This ability to read emotions however happens in line with her very cerebral personality, and while she can be sweet and caring, when push comes to shove Hermione focuses on problem-solving. This oftens leads to a disregard for other people's feelings and a consistent streak of callousness.

All in all, I find Hermione's relationship with emotions to be utterly fascinating. It is complex and dynamic, something that we see grow with her over time. Her reactions and tendencies are not clear-cut nor easy to map. Not only does Hermione defy the false dichotomy of book intelligence versus emotional intelligence, both are integral in the way she processes and reacts to emotion.

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Nineteen

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

a/n: sorry for the wait guys. its a long one so get a cup of tea x

warnings: swearing, angst, description of harm

wc: 4503

masterlist

pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! if your name is bold, i couldn't tag your blog :( tags at the end ♡

Chapter Nineteen: It's a Purebloods World

As Draco approaches the doors to the Great Hall, he can feel his stomach swirling. McGonagall's unexpected arrival has given him much to think about, especially when she asked, where did it lead you, exactly?

When the entrance to the hall came into view, he saw Astoria just inside, leaning against the archway, the party slowing dying just beyond her. He feels sad at the sight of her, dressed to the nines, undeniably beautiful, and yet waiting for a man who wants anything but to marry her.

She certainly deserved better.

Her head snaps up as he approaches, as if she sensed him there, and her green eyes light up. He was expecting her to be angry, but she seemed anything but that.

"Draco," she says, rushing to his side, her hands lifting her gown off the floor, "is everything alright? You rushed off so suddenly. I didn't think you were coming back."

I didn't plan on, he thinks. How selfish of him.

"Sorry, 'Storia," he mumbles, "there was something I had to do."

"Is she okay?"

Draco furrows his brow at that question, utterly confused as to why she would ask such a thing. Was it that obvious he was running after you?

"W-what do you mean?" he stumbles, and all Astoria does is smile weakly.

"Your friend," she says softly, "that's who you ran after, isn't it?"

Draco feels speechless. Astoria eyes him curiously, awaiting his answer. Perhaps part of her was wishing he would say no.

"She's fine," he eventually said, "I just went to see if she was upset."

"That's good, then," Astoria speaks quietly, looking down at her hands as if disappointed, "you missed most of the ball. It's almost over."

She then looks back over her shoulder, and students are leaving the hall, adults stumbling merrily out into the cold of the night. Draco feels yet another pang of guilt.

"I'm so sorry for spoiling your night, 'Storia," Draco says sincerely, "I honestly didn't mean to."

"Your heart called to you," she said, still looking back at the hall, "nothing more to it, really."

"Really, I am-"

"When I was little," she interrupted, returning her attention back to him, "I had a crush on a muggle boy who lived in our village." Draco was confused at the sudden change in subject, but allowed her to continue regardless, "and I was utterly besotted with him. Well, as besotted as you can be at eight years old," she chuckles sadly, "but nevertheless, I watched him play with his friends in the park just across the road from our house. I would always hear my parents talk about muggles, and how they were lesser than we were, but I just couldn't understand what they meant."

She took a moment to pause, and then wandered over to a stone bench by the wall and sat down. Draco followed suit, cautiously, and took the space beside her.

"I couldn't understand," she repeated softly, "when all I could see was someone so wonderful. His hair was a soft brown colour, and he always wore a green jumper. Maybe that's why I was drawn to him," she pauses once more, "then, one summer afternoon, I snuck out the back garden and followed the path to the park. We played all night long, and neither of us spoke of our origin, or our families. He just invited me to play, as if he had known me his whole life. This muggle, who my parents said were scum, despite living in the very same village as them, accepted me as one of his own."

Draco listened intently, not wanting to interrupt her reminiscing. He could vaguely see where the story was heading.

"The next morning, my mother found out where I had been," Astoria continued, but this time her voice was much more serious, "because the little boys mother had posted a note through our letterbox, inviting me over for dinner. She tore it up in front of me, and banished me to my room for three days. The house elf would push my meals through the gap under my door. Even to this day, I can remember how that felt."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco asks quietly, but he knew the reason.

"Because that feeling has stuck with me my entire life," Astoria looked across at him, "so, Draco, I understand, to some degree, what you must be feeling... the pain, the anger, the questions of why. But, the truth is, that's just how things are. It's an unwritten rule: purebloods stick with purebloods."

"That shit again," Draco mutters frustratedly, and put his head in his hands, "we just fought a war and yet I'm still being pushed around by the same, stupid ideals."

"Once upon a time, you believed in those same ideals," says the pretty brunette, "you saw no reason to argue against it, did you not?"

"Things are different now."

"You may be, but our families are not," Astoria points out, and Draco heaves a heavy sigh, "our days of freedom were always numbered, Draco. At some point, we were going to be married off. To a pureblood."

"Why are you so okay with this?" Draco then bursts out, getting up from the bench, his face full of frustration, "after what you just told me, you're going to lie down and accept a marriage to appease someone else?"

Astoria laughs through her nose.

"Who said I was okay?" she said, "I have merely come to accept that my voice has no volume," she pauses briefly again, averting her gaze from him, "I'm also aware that your mother is keen to have us marry. My mother wrote to me about a meeting between them recently."

"Great," Draco huffs, pacing with his hands on his hips.

"I understand that is not ideal for you," she says, a hint of sadness in her tone, "I only wish for you to accept it. I have no doubt your mother is the reason you asked me to the ball tonight. Back when we went for lunch that afternoon, I already knew you had fallen for that Ravenclaw girl. I could see it in your face. I didn't expect you to change your feelings from one simple luncheon, and I still don't."

Draco has no words. He's simply run out of things to say, because his voice, too, has no volume. No meaning. No worth. Solemnly he takes the spot beside her once more.

"Did you know then," Draco asks, his voice empty, "about my mother's wishes?"

"I had an inkling," she sighs, "why else would she arrange a lunch for us both. Like I said back then, I was surprised when you agreed... given the circumstance." Her voice trails off at the end, as if she had become caught in her thoughts, "I didn't mention anything to you because I was only picking at straws then... plus, I felt you deserved some more time... to be ignorant."

There was a stale silence.

"And what about your feelings?" Draco says, "sounds like you've been busy worrying about mine."

"That doesn't matter." Astoria says shortly.

"You deserve better than this, Astoria," he then says, in all serious, "you shouldn't have to settle. You deserve to marry a man who loves you."

"That was never an option for me," she said sternly, "you are not a stranger to how these marriages work, and yet you still fight. Why, Draco? We have no cards left to be dealt."

"I can't give you what you want."

"I'm not asking for anything," she turns her whole body to him, and their eyes lock. She really is beautiful... if only he could make himself love her, "all I wish is that you find it in your heart to accept this partnership, because our parents have decided. It's set in stone."

Draco narrows his eyes at the girl before him.

"Do you know something, Astoria?" he queries, and she visibly gulps, "because if you do, I would very much appreciate you sharing it."

She falters. She did know something. Draco suspects she's known a lot more than him this entire time. Astoria shuffles uncomfortably in her seat.

"My mother's letter didn't just speak about the desire for our marriage," she goes on to say, and Draco's eyes are glued to her, "our parents are arranging a dinner, a few days before the end of the school year. A sort of... engagement party."

"A what?" Draco yet again rises from his seat, his voice echoing down the corridor.

"Your mother should be writing you soon," Astoria explains, refusing to meet the fury in his eyes, "I can only assume they expect you to propose on that day."

"This is fucking ridiculous," Draco spits, pacing once more before her, "I can't seriously believe they're plotting behind our backs. Well, at least behind my back. What a fucking joke."

"It's final, Draco-"

"Fuck this," he yells, and throws his fists against the stone wall. Astoria rises quickly, but holds back, not wanting to get in between his rage, "this is such bullshit," Draco slumps against the wall, holding his fist in his other hand. Clearly, he had damaged it somehow. It was silent yet again, the air thick. He was defeated, it would seem. Astoria eyes him carefully, noticing how his shoulders slump. Draco was out of options.

"I've got nowhere left to run, have I?" he mutters helplessly, his voice almost cracking. Astoria moves across the space, and gently takes the hand that had collided with the wall in hers. She soothingly runs a thumb across the visible gashes on his knuckles. He allows her to have this moment of calmness.

"I'm sorry."

"Please, don't be," he says softly, and their eyes meet once more, but this time hers are lined with tears, "we're both in this mess, right? It's not just about me."

"There's a difference, though," she whispers sadly, "I'd be happy to marry you."

"Don't say that," Draco breathes, shaking his head lightly, "I feel terrible enough as it is."

"I mean it," she then lets go of his hand, "I don't expect you to feel the same, and I surely don't expect you to stop loving that girl, but if you can, please try and accept me. That's all I ask."

"Astoria-"

"There isn't much more to say," she turns away from him, as if to leave, "we will no doubt see one another soon. Please, take care of yourself, Draco."

He has no fight left in him. She floats down the corridor towards two girls that had emerged around the corner, no doubt in search of Astoria. Draco remains slumped against the wall, his knuckles throbbing.

"It was Astoria."

Hermione words has swirled in your head ever since she had spoken them. She went on to explain what Edward had told her.

"Astoria approached him, out of the blue," Hermione had said, "somehow she heard that he was thinking of asking you to the ball, so she told him about the dress. Even though it's strange, I don't believe it was done with bad intentions... I think she was trying to help you."

Help you? In what way, exactly. The thought kept you awake most of the night, that and the fact Edward was so kind to you once you had finally returned to him. You sat him down and explained that it wasn't him, he was a lovely boy, you just weren't in the right headspace, and then apologised profusely for leaving him on the dancefloor. He said he understood, and that he had an inkling you may have eyes for someone else. That only made you feel worse. After bidding him a goodnight, he kissed your knuckles and said, "If you ever change your mind, I promise to take good care of you."

And then he retreated to his dorm room.

You weren't sure if him shouting at you would have somehow felt better. The fact that he just accepted it made you feel like the world's most terrible person. For a moment, when Hermione said that Astoria was mixed up in all of this, you thought she might have orchestrated the whole thing, but Edward was genuine. He really did like you.

Which was a shame, really, because you were hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy, who you were partly dreading seeing again because you knew he'd bring up the kiss, and you weren't entirely sure what to say. You wanted to tell him that it was magical, and that it's only made you love him more, but the reality of it was that it only made things more complicated. As the bright morning sun woke you from your troublesome slumber, you figure you may have slept a grand total of two hours, if that. Groggily, you push yourself up, to see everyone had already left to make the most of the sun.

You wash last night off your skin. Wash his kisses from your face. Really, you had no energy to see people today, but if Draco was looking to talk, you thought it was better to get it over with. Your head was so fuzzy, full of suppressed feelings and a million things you can't say. If he wanted to talk, it was time to get it all off your chest. After pulling on the first thing you came across, you headed down to the common room, where a voice called out to you.

"Y/N," calls Emilie as you pass her, a fellow Ravenclaw student and sixth year, "there's a Slytherin student waiting outside for you. Not sure what she wants. Been out there since breakfast."

She?

"Oh," you sound, still half asleep, your brain not registering who your visitor may be, "uh, thanks, Emilie. I'll go see to it."

Heading for the stairs, you descend the tower to be met with the big oak doors that lead to the rest of the castle. With a light push, they open, to reveal the last person you would imagine standing outside the common room, waiting for you. You almost rubbed at your eyes to make sure you weren't stuck in some twisted dream. Then she spoke, which only confirmed that this was indeed real.

"About time you showed. I think we need to talk."

Astoria stood there, looking like a million Galleons in her everyday clothes. She really must have been there since breakfast, because she looked rather impatient.

"Talk?" you raise an eyebrow, "if this is about Draco-"

"It's not," she cut you off, "well, partly it is. I just think we need to get some clarity."

You don't refuse her, instead you both walk to a more secluded area to speak in private, without gawking eyes wondering what you were doing together. She walked before you, her long, silky brown hair gently swaying as she went. There was a green ribbon keeping it in a neat ponytail, her clothes freshly pressed as if they were straight off the hanger. Astoria stopped before an unused classroom, checked both ways, and then ushered you inside. You followed. As soon as you shut the door behind you, an uncomfortable atmosphere fell over the damp-smelling room.

"I'm not entirely sure how much Draco has told you," she begins, walking to the other side of the room, not facing you. She stops at the window, looking out, "but there is something I think you should know.”

Intrigued and also worried, you walk halfway across the room, swipe your hand across the surface of a dusty desk and perch on it. Astoria was still facing the other way.

"Its you, isn't it?" you then say, and she doesn't respond, "you're the one he'll end up with."

"So, you know that much?"

"It's rather obvious," you say shortly, "his mother arranges lunches, you ask him out for drinks, he asks you to the dance, kind of self explanatory, wouldn't you say?"

Astoria keeps her eyes trained on the outside world. Her voice is bitter.

"I'm not here to argue with you," she says curtly, "we both want the same thing, don't we? We both want Draco to be happy."

Your stomach swirls at the mention of his name on her lips. It almost sounds foreign coming from her, like it doesn't belong on her tongue. You feel a little angry that she is implying her goal is Draco's happiness, because if she is anything like the other purebloods he's told you about, that isn't even on her agenda.

"You care about his happiness?" you almost scoff, "if that's true, then you wouldn't be so compliant about all of this. Or do you ignore his feelings too?"

Astoria spins on her heel, a look of thunder in her face.

"I do care about his feelings, that's why I'm here, talking to you," she takes a deep breath in, and then exhales, calming herself, "you understand what is expected of him, don't you? No matter what your relationship is, he will inevitably go with his parents wishes. That's just what purebloods do."

"Let me guess, I wouldn't know, because I'm half-blood, right?" you narrow your eyes at her, "do you want to know what I think? I think you purebloods care more about your reputation than those closest to you. Draco is in turmoil. He's being forced down a path he hasn't chosen, being pushed into a courtship he didn't ask for, and now you're, what, going to tell me to stay away from him?"

"Exactly," she says, "I'm not a cruel person, Y/N. I understand that this is affecting you just as much, and I'm sorry that you have to go through this, I really am," her voice is sharp, but the look in her eyes is genuine. You feel a stab of pain right through your chest, "but Draco's life is different to yours, there are things he must do, and his love for you is keeping him from doing them," her voice wobbles slightly at the latter part, "can't you see? Keeping this up is only making it harder for him... if you care for him like you say you do, then please... not for me, but for him... call it off. Please."

Call it off. You weren't even together. One kiss in the ladies toilet is all you had to claim.

"Draco and I aren't seeing each other," you then mutter, swallowing the lump in your throat. You couldn't help but notice how she perked up slightly at that, "so, there isn't anything to call off.  I'm not entirely sure why I'm telling you this, but we've been trying to keep our distance, for a long time. Draco knows the repercussions, believe me. He's not stupid. But I can't stop caring about him, that just isn't doable I'm afraid. I made a promise to always be there for him. I won't break it."

"You must," she paces forwards. Now she's closer, you can see the tears lining her eyes, "if his parents ever found out about this, he'd be punished, and who's to say you'd be in the clear? Purebloods are ruthless, Y/N. I'm only trying to help you... you can find someone else, you're smart, pretty," she starts to sound desperate, and you feel slightly sorry for her, "I know it isn't my place, but I care about him... I know the shunning he'll face.... please, Y/N. I'm begging you, because I know he won't. He'll keep fighting if you do."

Tears start to sting the corners of your eyes. You fight the urge to break down, because showing her your weak side was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Astoria," you breathe, "I know why you're doing this, I really do, but it's not that easy."

"Don't you think I know that?" she says bitterly, "I know what it feels like to be shunned for not following the protocol. I don't want that for him," she wipes her eye on the sleeve of her jumper, "besides, you already have other boys that like you."

She looks back out of the window, as if she didn't want to face you. Her words lit a fiery feeling in your chest.

"You mean Edward Chambers, by any chance?" you hop down from the desk and storm over to her, "I hear it was you who told him about the dress I liked. Care sharing how that came about?"

For a moment she doesn't respond, but then her voice, much smaller and weaker, spoke.

"Please don't think I was interfering," she almost whispers, "I overheard some Ravenclaw girls in the bathroom. One of them was crying about Edward turning them down, and then I heard one of them mutter your name and how he never stops looking at you. So, I just thought if you had attention off another boy, then you would-"

"Forget about Draco?" you finish her sentence, and when she turns to face you again, her tears are black with mascara, "because it didn't work, Astoria."

"I know," she sniffles, "it sounds terrible, but please believe me when I say that I was only trying to help you. Far too many people get hurt in these circumstances... I thought I had a chance to save you from it."

She looks a little tired, as if this has been playing on her mind. Her night was ruined last night too. She was left out on the dancefloor, just like Edward. She was right, too many people are getting hurt.

"I'm sorry last night was ruined, it as my fault," you say, leaning against a different desk, "he ran after me, after all. Not that I wanted him to... I'm not trying to make his life difficult."

"I understand," she whispers, "and I know he loves you, Y/N, I can see it in his eyes, but it's that same love that will be his downfall. I'm asking you as someone with the same interests in mind, that you be the one to put an end to this."

Your head is spinning. For some relief, you begin to massage your temples to try and think clearer. Astoria's words make your body feel both tingly and numb. Could he really be in love with you, as you are with him? Is this really all coming down to you?

"I need some time, Astoria," you finally say, "I can't hurt him. I won't. He means far too much to me, do you even know what you're asking of me here?"

"Of course I do," she said, her voice louder, "I'm not heartless, Y/N, I'm no stranger to the weight of what I'm saying here, but we don't have time for you to think. Draco has spent too much time ignoring the inevitable," Astoria huffs, clearly drained, "he'll be mad I've told you, but two months from now our families are holding a dinner, and they are expecting Draco to propose."

Your stomach drops to your feet. Two months. Near the end of the year. That's exam season. Are they serious? The fiery feeling in your chest erupts, and all the suppressed feelings you've been storing away begin to bubble; love, frustration, anger, sorrow. You stand up straight, ready to implode.

"Are they seriously putting that on him? During exams? Graduation?" you snap nastily, "where the fuck do you people get off?"

"This is our life, Y/N," Astoria shouts, "this is how we've been raised, Draco is no exception. In two months time we will be engaged, and before the end of the year, we'll be married. I cannot change that, you cannot change that, and the longer you are in the picture the harder this will be for him. I'm begging you, for the sake of his sanity, let him down gently."

"I love him," you blurt, the words falling out of your mouth like water. Astoria's eyes widen as if horror stricken, "I'm in love with him, and I cannot, will not hurt him, do you understand? The only people causing him grief is you and that pathetic excuse of a family," you breathe heavily, breathless from shouting, "if I'm to do this, I do it my way. Got it?"

Astoria's cheeks are stained with black mascara tears. She takes a moment, but nods stiffly at your terms. She seems too exhausted to fight with you.

"So, you agree to put a stop to your relationship?" she asks quietly, eyes on the floor. You try to swallow the ever forming lump in your throat, and then speak with the last bit of strength you have.

"Draco means everything to me," you mutter, defeated, cornered. Your little haven had been shattered, the delusional hope that something might change had been swallowed whole, and you were left in a dusty, damp room with the man you loves future wife. At this point your life feels like a tragic soap opera, "and I want him to be at peace, and if what you're telling me is the truth, then I guess we're out of options. Draco's too good to go against them, I've known that from the start," the two of you lock eyes once more, both filled with defeat, "I won't ever stop loving him. That's the one thing I will not do."

"I understand," she rushes out, "I know it's the same for him."

You nod, and then turn towards the door. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you want nothing more than to be out of that dingy room.

"I can't promise when I'll do it, but if it's the last thing I can do to help him, I guess I have no choice." You say, empty and lifeless.

"I appreciate it-"

"Don't," you cut her off, "I'm not doing it for you."

With that, you leave the Slytherin girl alone in the classroom, falling back against the door as you close it. You try to take some deep breaths, praying that you can make it back to your dorm without running into him.

As you walk alone, the castle feels different. It's as if the world is somehow much duller than before. The sun doesn't illuminate the giant tapestries, or shine on the marbled floor. The sound of students laughter makes you flinch. The world is a cruel mistress, and you had a front row seat. These corridors that you once ran through, on your way to see his handsome face waiting for you at the top of the highest tower, were now hollow, cold, and most of all, lonely.

If Astoria's words were true, then you really had no chance, did you? There was never a single ray of hope for the two of you. It was always going to end up this way, but it still feels too soon. You hadn't had enough time with him, you still craved for more. To think, you finally had the moment you'd been waiting for, aching for, and now it's being snatched from your hands like it was never yours to begin with. The one memory you'll have of expressing your feelings for him is overshadowed by Pansy Parkinson and the girls loo.

In that moment, you realised you've been living for borrowed time. Every second you spent with him was one second closer to him leaving. You may love Draco Malfoy, but Draco Malfoy was not his own person. He belonged to someone else.

It was a purebloods world, and you were simply living in it.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

tags:

@lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @anarchistsons @smallsweetvanillabean @newbooksmell777 @tangomangroves @neoteezrenyoung @l0v3lies @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @higanbanagirl @ace152435 @arcanebabe

[marvol0]

OUTSIDER (2)|| Rabastan Lestrange WTM

Series Synopsis: When the truth comes out about the future inside the walls of Hogwarts, on the first night back in 1977, what will happen for those involved with the chaos that ensued?

Secrets outed, Lies revealed and true intentions determined.

Pairing: Rabastan Lestrange x Fem!Regulus Black

Notes: Introduction’s, second chapter.

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒, only few people knew what hid behind her stone cold façade. Those included were her family and closest friends, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr and her boyfriend Rabastan Lestrange.

Rabanstan and Regulus had been dating since their fourth year of Hogwarts, their family's had thought them to be only close friends, as they wanted to hide their relationship from others as they were soon to be wed off to other Pureblood families.

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𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑, the Hufflepuff's were telling each other about their holidays, the Ravenclaw's discussing book recommendations  and as always the loudest and proudest table of the Lions were shouting at each other from across the table, while the regal House of the Snakes were quietly informing each other of the ins and outs of the rising Dark Lord.

Soon the familiarity was disturbed by a small pop that seemed to echo around the hall, following the sound came a fluttering parchment landing softly in front of the Slytherin Princess. Not expressing her shock, she carefully examined the yellowed parchment with narrowed eyes not yet touching it, she could feel something different radiating from the ink etched inside.

Deeming it safe enough to touch Regulus reached out unfolding it, cold stormy eyes glared at the missive after they had scanned the cursive writing. She let out a scoff handing it carelessly to the outstretched hand of Evan Rosier.

The sound didn't seem to capture anyone's attention for long as everyone went back to doing their own thing once more, that was until the heavy doors of the Great Hall swung open with a force that one was only capable with the help magic.

Heads turned, some quick enough that they could have gotten whiplash others at a relaxed pace, the students eyes, ranging in colours and sizes, all landed on the unusual sight. A group ranging from disgraced families to the most politically powerful all stood together in the wide doorway.

Albus Dumbledore, some would say he was a born leader that would help you through all your troubles others world say he was a dictator who strived for power and manipulated people around him to get what he wanted, stood up from his throne like chare that was placed at the centre of the Professors table. 

"My wonderful guests what could possibly be the reasoning for this delightful visit?" The old man asked, power radiated from his voice, some watchful eyes could see trough his carefully crafted façade of a grandfather, they could see he was irritated of the interruption from his tight jaw and suspicious eyes.

"The members of my family and I received missives just after nightfall informing us to attend a meeting at Hogwarts." Lord Arcturus Black was the first to answer.

"As did I and some Aurors in my department." The head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones who had graduated Hogwarts a few years ago and done well for herself, added.

"A letter fell on the Slytherin table a second ago, Professor." Informed Lily Evans, an oddly bright witch for a mudblood.

Dumbledore turned his attention to the aforementioned table, gesturing for someone to read the note aloud.

Evan dramatically flipped the parchment to straighten it and cleared his throat. 

Witches and Wizards of the past,

The future is in need of your help, the second Wizarding War ended just one year ago and too much magical blood ran through our streets. 

We hope you can change the paths you had previously chosen to go down for the better, we from the future know most of you can change.

No violence, Magical or muggle, will be tolerated.

To the Future!

A.C.L  H.J.P  D.C.G  R.B.W  D.L.M  H.J.G  T.T.N.

When Rosier has finished reading the students of Hogwarts expressed their disbelief in many ways, a small firework display lit up the headmasters face gaining the halls attention.

"That sounds familiar to the one I received this evening." Arthur Weasley announced breaking the silence, little Bill and Charlie swarming his feet while his wife, Molly Weasley, held small Percy close to her chest.

The elderly Headmaster went to speak once more when a flash of light that momentarily blinded the occupance of the hall shone from in front of the Professors table, a dull thud echoed around the hall while everyone was trying clear their vision of white dots. Another was heard then another and another, two more following after.

All of the adults and older students had their wands drawn, the tips pointing toward the mound of flailing limbs suspiciously. Groans and pained moans littered throughout the hill of bodies, insults flying like spells on a battlefield.

"Get your arse out of my face Ronald!" Once voice muffled.

"I would if the ferret moved his bloody foot out of my belly." A male voice replied.

"Hullo Daph, didn't know you had freckles." 

"Stop staring into my soul Atlas." Another female voice countered.

A dark hared male lifted himself from the top of the pile hobbling slightly, he bent down next to the others picking something off of the floor and placing it on his face. Familiar rounded glasses greeted them once he turned around, vibrant green eyes hidden behind the glass.

The boys eyes widened at the sight in front of him, his jaw dropped slightly before he turned to the still arguing group. He pulled the second person off, a freckled ginger male that leaned on the first boy to stabilize himself.

He to followed the actions of the first boy revealing a brunette female with chocolate coloured eyes, after her came three boys a bleach blond, sandy blond and raven haired. The sandy haired male outstretched his hand for a blond female that was still situated on the floor, taking his had she hoisted herself up, flattening down her pleated skirt.

The brunette female lifted her hands as a means of surrender, the others following her lead, she stepped forward from the unusual group.

"Did you not receive our letter?" she asked, brows furrowing in confusion. After the question a few wands dropped from their targets. 

Dumbledore let out an 'ah' sound. "So you would be our friends from the future." 

"Yes Professor Dumbledore, we have compiled eight muggle like films using our memories to show you all your future." The brunette explained.

"Wonderful! How about you introduce yourselves, full names, ages and parents perhaps." Albus suggested.

"oh um- yeah of course." She stutters before continuing. " I'm Hermione jean Granger, I am seventeen years old, I was a Gryffindor and you wouldn't know my parents." 

The ginger went next.

"Ron Weasley, seventeen, I was a Gryffindor as well and my parents are Arthur and Molly Weasley." He concluded, Fabian and Gideon Prewitt started teasing there sister about having more children before the Ron boy spoke up once more.

"There are three more of us, not including me, at home." Laughter rung from the people who knew the blushing couple. 

Next up was the blond girl.

"Merry Meet, I am Heir Daphne Clarity Greengrass of the Noble house of Greengrass, I'm seventeen years old, Slytherin and my parents are Aden and Clarity Greengrass. I also have a younger sister at home called Astoria"

 Clarity Selwyn cooed at the sight of her beautiful, eldest daughter while Aden wrapped his arm around his girlfriends shoulder.

 Continuing the introductions was the sandy blond male.

"Merry Meet, I am Heir Theodore Taddius Nott, Seventeen, Slytherin and my parents are Taddius and Ashlyn Nott." 

Taddius nodded slightly at the boy, the corners of his lips twitching, while Ashlyn Flint gave the boy a warm smile.

"Merry Meet, I am Heir Draco Lucius Malfoy of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, I am Seventeen and was a Slytherin at Hogwarts, my parents are Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy."

Narcissa Black clasped a hand to her mouth to cover her shock, Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black shaking her shoulders in excitement. Lucius gained a pat on the shoulder from his father Abraxas Malfoy.

"Hello, I'm Harry James Potter, I was in Gryffindor, I am seventeen and my parents are James and Lily Potter."

A group of four boys were on the edge of their seats waiting, after finding out his sons mother was his long time crush James leaned over the table pecking Lily's cheek. The girl in question was stunned but gave her son a small welcoming wave.

The last boy was the tallest of the group, he had an intimidating aura but the boyish smile on his face made most girls and some boys swoon. 

"Merry Meet, I am Atlas Corvus Lestrange of the most Ancient and Noble House of Lestrange, I am a seventeen year old Slytherin and my Parents are..." He patted his knees in a drum roll causing laughter around the hall. "Rabastan Lestrange and Regulus Black."

You could hear a pin drop, Regulus' eyes widened slightly before Barty Crouch Jr jumped from his seat. "You owe me fifty Galleons Rosier!"

Walburga Black walked over to her daughter, at the sight of her mother Regulus lowered her head hoping she didn't punish her for choosing her own partner, she was pleasantly surprised by the pat on her shoulders

"Good choice Regulus." Walburga said before leaving back to sand next to her husband Orion Black. 

Regulus was shocked by the affection but she wasn't left in her thoughts long as she was pulled into a tight hug by her boyfriend.

"I love you Reg." Rabastan whispered affectionately in her ear, she countered it before letting go and giving her son a motherly smile that made him tear up behind his mask.

"Now why don't we get some sleep so we can watch these films when we are refreshed tomorrow." The Headmaster announced to the mass of the Great Hall.

[fideliushqs]

. ✧ . * . 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 ! - welcome to hogwarts, ki, ash, jasy, jerenyth, cricket, & amanda, i see you've brought 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘, 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑, 𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍, 𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑, 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒, & 𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 with you. please report to your heads of house within 𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒! hope you make it through the year !

. ✧ . * . ⌜ lizeth selene, twenty-two, genderfluid, they/she / storm coming by gnarls barkley + important reminders and spells scribbled on her palm in invisible ink, piles of unread books scattered across hardwood floors and oversized sunglasses hiding dark undereye bags left from being awake one too many hours ⌟ hey, have you met CLEA AVERY yet? the PUREBLOOD is a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a RAVENCLAW. makes sense given they tend to be a bit VIBRANT and COMPETITIVE. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the UNDECIDED side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ thomas doherty, twenty-three, cis man, he/him / daddy issues by the neighbourhood + unyielding pressure to choose the right place in the looming war, coldness that is an act to hide from others, & a constant sneer on your face⌟ hey, have you met DRACO MALFOY yet? the PUREBLOOD is a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a SLYTHERIN. makes sense given they tend to be a bit CUNNING and ARROGANT it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the UNDECIDED side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ antonia gentry, twenty-three, cis woman, she/her / a little wicked by valerie broussard + untameable curls that only grow more wild with magic; massive books piled high on a table; a fire that burns everything it touches ⌟ hey, have you met HERMIONE GRANGER yet? the MUGGLEBORN is a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a GRYFFINDOR. makes sense given they tend to be a bit INTELLIGENT and PERFECTIONISTIC. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the LIGHT side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

* . ✧ . * . ⌜ robert pattinson, twenty-four, cis man, he/him / till i collapse by eminem + survivor’s guilt, always studying and looking for new spells for dueling, constant state of readiness/ preparedness ( never wants to be caught off guard and lose a friend again) ⌟ hey, have you met CEDRIC DIGGORY yet? the PUREBLOOD is a SIXTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a HUFFLEPUFF makes sense given they tend to be a bit HONORABLE and BROODING. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the LIGHT side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ luka sabbat, twenty-five, cis man, he/him  / go big or go home by american authors + a well executed prank, justice burning through veins, laughter echoing off stone walls   ⌟ hey, have you met LEE JORDAN yet? the HALFBLOOD is a SEVENTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a GRYFFINDOR. makes sense given they tend to be a bit WARM and JUDGEMENTAL. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the LIGHT side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ ginny gardner, twenty-three, cis woman, she/her  / someone new by hozier + fresh baked rolls on a saturday morning, flowers dancing in the gentle wind, ocean foam breaking against the shore ⌟ hey, have you met SOPHIE ROPER yet? the MUGGLEBORN is a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a HUFFLEPUFF. makes sense given they tend to be a bit KIND HEARTED and INDECISIVE. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the NEUTRAL side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ shin yeeun, twenty-two, cis woman, she/her / castle by halsey  + immaculate notes written with a steady hand, restless nights looking at the stars for answers, half-filled coffee cups piled high on a bedside table ⌟ hey, have you met LILY MOON yet? the PUREBLOOD is a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a RAVENCLAW. makes sense given they tend to be a bit METICULOUS and HAUGHTY. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the LIGHT side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ cho mi-yeon, twenty-one, demi girl, she/they / selfish by madison beer + eyes that gleam a little softer than the rest of your family wondering if you are cut from the same stem, worn out leather bound notebooks filled with countless drawings to capture the moments, & watching the sand in the hourglass trickle down and waiting for the envitable to come ⌟ hey, have you met ASTORIA GREENGRASS yet? the PUREBLOOD is a THIRD YEAR at hogwarts and are a SLYTHERIN. makes sense given they tend to be a bit AMBITIOUS and STUBBORN. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the UNDECIDED side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

. ✧ . * . ⌜ rudy pankow, twenty-three, cis male, he/him / trainwreck by james arthur + a king in chess with a hidden talent for guitar, trademark red hair that catches everyone attention and now even more so, too young and fighting a war your parents once fought in ⌟ hey, have you met RONALD 'RON' WEASLEY yet? the PUREBLOOD is a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a GRYFFINDOR. makes sense given they tend to be a bit LOYAL and SARCASTIC. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the LIGHT side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Daddy Issues | Draco Malfoy

Wow I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disappear like that Lovelies! Sometimes I forget depression and writers block are a thing until they punch me in the face and force me to go MIA for a hundred years! I guess I’m back? I hope? Fingers crossed? Anyway, I’m sorry this isn’t a TVD fic but I figured Y’all would appreciate something over nothing. I missed you all more than I can say! I hope you enjoy, I love you all!

Description: Draco and y/n are best friends until Draco’s father threatens y/n. She avoids Draco until he confronts her.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: Like none, it’s kinda sad but not really, the only flaw is bad writing

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

(not my gif, I just love it lol)

Your heart stings from across the courtyard, the gap between you and the blonde boy tangible. For a second you don't know whether or not your heart is even in your chest anymore or if it’s in his hands. In that case your heart is sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he isn’t holding your heart, though, maybe he is your heart, in which case you’re avoiding your heart’s piercing gaze. 

Your hands twitch at your sides, itching to grab his or to twist through his silky hair or do anything other than lay idle when he is only mere steps away from you. Your hands ache to touch him and usually you would be doing just that: clinging to his robes or twisting the rings around on his fingers or simply tangling your own fingers with his slender ones. Your hands feel painfully empty without him to hold on to. 

That makes sense though, he’s your best friend after all. You’re rarely ever spotted less than five feet away from each other. Everyone at Hogwarts can see how utterly entwined you are, every part of him wrapped around your finger and every part of you sitting precisely in the palm of his hand. You orbit each other, drawn in by a gravity that the rest of the student body can’t deny.

Right now, though, that gravity is being tested and everyone feels a little bit like they’re floating away. 

Draco sits exactly seventeen feet and four inches away from you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, like lasers, searing into your black and gold jumper and refusing to look away. It burns but you embrace it, taking any contact, even imagined, that you can get from him. Even if it hurts. You would gladly burn for the blonde Slytherin if it made him happy. This doesn’t make him happy, though, being ignored by the girl that commands his entire life. You know that, but you also know that it’s for the best. 

You run your hands through your hair, tugging on the strands relentlessly and closing your eyes. You see his father, the tall, grim man, and replay the conversation you had in your head. 

“He has a bright future ahead of him, y/n.” 

Lucious had backed you into a corner, both metaphorically and literally, the stone of the castle biting harshly into your skin, “I know that, sir.”

He stood tall, menacingly, like he was bigger than the castle itself, “he doesn’t have time for nonsense, y/n.”

Your hands trembled, the cold of the dungeon nipping at them fiercely, “he’s very bright, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think I’m slowing him down.”

The neutral, if not cold, expression on his face switched then to one of red hot anger, “did I ask what you think? It’s time the two of you separate. He is to be married next year and not to some silly Hufflepuff girl.”

“We’re just friends, sir,” your eyes had long since found the floor.

“Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. If I catch you near him from this day on I will not hesitate to destroy you, do you understand me? Do not speak to him again.”

That was two weeks ago and you haven’t dared to go near him since, spending every waking moment of your spare time in the Hufflepuff common room. You aren’t brave, you didn’t march up to your best friend and tell him that his father threatened to destroy you. You would be lying if you said you even thought about it. The reality of it is that you’re a coward and have iced Draco out in fear of having his father hurt either of you.  

His father’s words still ring in your head. Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. Your heart flutters hard in your chest, your rib cage the only barrier keeping it from finding him across the courtyard. Draco is infatuated with you. Apparently. He hasn’t said so, only his father. Still, you can’t help but hope that it’s true.

But then that makes your chest burn and palms sting again. You aren’t allowed to hope that Draco wants you. You aren’t even allowed to hope that he wants to be your friend. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, let alone allowed to kiss him. Would he even kiss you? Probably not. You tug even harder on your hair, as if pulling each strand out will somehow take the pain away. Don’t be daft.

“Y/n,” gentle hands wrap around your tight fists, “you’re hurting yourself.”

You forgot Luna was there, sitting next to you on the bench, the bench that is seventeen feet and four inches away from Draco. You let the airy Ravenclaw unravel your fingers and hold one of your hands, rubbing circles on the back of your palm. It doesn’t feel the same, her grip is too soft, her fingers too short. Draco’s fingers are longer. 

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of him from your senses, “sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now.”

Luna only smiles at you and rolls her eyes gently, “I know it’s hard for you right now.”

Of course you told her. You weren’t able to tell Draco so you turned to Luna, your other best friend. You nod your head at the blonde girl, too tired to speak. 

“I think you should tell him though, he looks bloody miserable without you,” your eyes widen as if on their own accord.

You feel dizzy at the thought and not the good kind like when Draco spins you around. No, this is the bad kind of ‘I’m definitely going to throw up’ dizzy. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears rapidly. Thump, thump, thump. It almost sounds like footsteps, angry ones, pounding towards you. That can’t be right.

“I can’t tell him, Luna, you know that.”

A hand lands on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your jumper. You open your mouth, ready to thank Luna for relentlessly comforting you, but close it quickly when a thought hits you. You glance down to your lap, just to double check. There, on your lap rests your hand carefully wrapped up in both of Luna’s. Crap. 

“What can’t you tell me?” It takes everything in you to not let his familiar voice curl around you and pull you further into his touch.

You shift out of his hold, not turning to look at him yet, afraid to see the expression on his face. Would it be anger? Sadness? Disgust? The last one makes your heart drop, the thought of the blonde boy being repulsed by you causing you to curl into yourself slightly. You would take anything from him but that.

You stand curtly, turning to face Draco, all too aware of the lack of space between you and him. Six inches at the most, every breath he takes makes his chest brush yours. You still don’t look up at him, not anywhere ready to meet the eyes of the boy you’ve been avoiding. 

You lock your eyes on his silver and green tie, mumbling to it instead of him, “What makes you think I was talking about you, Draco?”

You finally glance up at him and wish you hadn’t. His eyes, usually a bright blue, are dull and rimmed with red. The bruises under his eyes stand out against his cheeks. He’s always had dark circles but this is extreme. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he hasn’t eaten in days. It’s almost garish, but then again nothing could ever make the Slytherin Prince look anything less than perfect. He looks destroyed, almost as if his father had gotten to him too. You have to stop yourself from reaching out, choosing instead to look away again.

“Are you serious right now? Tell me this is all a joke y/n!” The courtyard goes silent when Draco raises his voice.

You squeeze your fists, the tone of his voice a punch in the gut. He never shouts at you. Draco is never anything but soft around you. Right now, however, he’s seething. No one around you dares to make a sound.

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop a traitorous flood of tears, “Draco, please don’t do this right now.”

Draco takes a step back, as if your words had shoved him, “if not now then when? You’ve given me no choice! You run every time you see me, you don’t answer my notes. Do you even read them anymore? Can you just explain why you bloody hate me?”

His voice cracks when he says hate, like its acid in his mouth. In any way it’s acid to your ears. You could never hate Draco, it’s very much the opposite actually. You’re painfully in love with him.

“I don’t,” you have to pause to clear your throat, trying to rid the lump, “I could never hate you.”

His hand grasps you chin gently, his rings cold against your skin as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes, “then tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You squeeze your eyes close, sinking into the warmth of his palm for a moment. You can’t remember a time you’ve gone this long without the blonde boy touching you. You can’t stop the tears from trailing down your cheeks and into his palm. You can feel the hitch in his breath as if it had come from your own lungs. You wrap your own hands around his, squeezing his fingers gently before pulling them away from you.

“I can’t, Dra. We can’t do this anymore. I’m,” your voice trembles, your eyes still closed, his hand still locked in yours, “I’m not good for you. We can’t be friends.”

You release his hand, taking a few steps back from the love of your life. This time, though, he doesn’t let you get as far, taking two steps towards you for every step you take away from him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s in front of you again, closer and even more determined. His eyes burn into yours, his hands restless. You know he wants to touch you. At least, you hope he does. You want to.

“Don’t say that,” there’s a strength behind his words, one you have yet to hear until now, “don’t you dare say that! Tell me what’s going on y/n, you need to tell me! I can fix it. I can make it better whatever it is just please tell me. Please, love.”

Love. That’s new. Your heart cracks even more when he says it and maybe that’s because you know you won’t get to hear it again. You wish you could grab the word from his lips and hold on to it. You want to put it in your pocket so at least you can have a part of him, the very best part of him, for when he walked away. But you can’t, so there’s no use in trying. 

“You can’t fix it this time, Draco,” you take another step back and your back hits the rough surface of a tree.

He fills the space between the two of you once more and this time you’re stuck. Your palms continue to sting, reminding you relentlessly how much you need to touch him. You scrunch the hem of your jumper, trying desperately to quell the pain. Your wrists feel like they’re on fire, something you’ve come to realise that means you’re about to have a panic attack. He can't see that happen, you refuse to fall apart in front of him. 

Of course he notices, though. That’s your Draco, he notices everything about you. That’s his job. 

He grabs your face again, stopping you from frantically looking everywhere but him, “of course I can. When have I not fixed your problems? Remember when those Ravenclaws’ were messing with you? I took care of that, didn’t I? And Parkinson? Zabini? I took care of them too. Remember when Snape wouldn’t let you hand in your assignment because you had the flu? And the time you passed out in the stairwell? I fixed those too because I can. Because I wanted to and I do what I want. Now, all I’ve wanted for days is you so if someone said something to you I need you to tell me so I can sort them out and get my best friend back. Now.”

He stares into your eyes the entire time, daring you to turn away. You feel like you can’t breathe, your hands once again wrapped around his but this time clinging for dear life. You’ve been terrified for two weeks and the exhaustion hits you in one, whopping punch to your stomach, the second punch of the day. Without warning your legs give out, all of your weight falling into the blonde who seems to expect it. His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest for the first time in what feels like ages.

You don’t realise that you’re sobbing until you try to speak, “Dra, I’m so scared. I’m tired,” you grip his robes in your fists, your head falling against his chest, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You can feel the sigh of relief he releases and his heartbeat slowing as if it’s your own. Maybe that’s because yours does the same. For the first time in weeks you’re engulfed in Draco and you cling to him, circling your arms around his waist and pulling yourself impossibly close. He wastes no time either, wrapping his cloak around you and burying his face in your neck. 

Your body shakes furiously in his arms, everything you’ve been bottling up comes pouring out in a torrent of sobs and hiccups. Draco presses closer to you, towering over you and shielding you from the rest of the world. You let his peppermint scent engulf you completely,

“For Salazar’s sake y/n I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I need to fix it, love. Please tell me,” his voice is low and choked.

He’s right, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes tighter and grip his back, savouring the muscles under his dress shirt for a few more seconds before you know you’ll have to let go.

“Your father told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. He told me,” you pull out of his arms, leaning back against the tree, “he said, well, it doesn’t matter what he said. We just can’t be together.” Draco’s eyes widen and your cheeks heat up, your words ringing through your ears, “I mean we can’t be friends.”

Draco steps closer to you, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear but you’re almost positive that it’s a curse. When he opens his eyes, your heart stops. His blue eyes burn into yours, glassy and angry but with something else too, something hot and fierce. Your heart restarts when he places his arms against the tree, caging you between it and him. You can’t resist placing your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up as well.

“What did my father say, y/n.” He isn’t asking you, he’s telling you.

You lower your eyes, not bothering to fight him anymore, “he told me he would destroy me if I kept being friends with you. He said you were getting married and that you could never marry a Hufflepuff and that he would destroy me if he had to.”

He staggers back with each word, like each one shoves him more than the last. He squeezes his fists before straightening his fingers, shoving them once more through his hair. His shoulders are tense, his back straight. His eyes are screwed shut again. 

“Bloody hell,” he pulls at his hair, biting his lip, “he’s lost his damn mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, tugging at your jumper, suddenly hot all over. Now is not the time to be getting riled up over Draco but you can’t help it, he looks exquisite. Messy hair and an un-tucked shirt, the veins in his hand prominent and his rings glittering in the afternoon sun. He’s absolutely and undeniably perfect.

“It’s ok, Dra, you’ll be ok,” you try your best to comfort him but he snaps his eyes open, looking at you like you’ve gone mad as well.

“My dad threatened to kill you! No I am not okay!”

This time you walk to him, pulling him into your chest again and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sweeps his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that you have to stand on your tiptoes to keep your arms around him. His hands grasp your hips tight and you immediately know what he wants. You oblige, wanting it just as much if not more, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his stomach. You tuck your face into his neck this time, breathing in the slightest hint of apples, green ones. 

You don’t speak, practically feeling the words bubbling in his chest, “My dad told you he was going to kill you, love. He threatened you and he didn’t even tell me. I am definitely not okay. I need to do something. I need to talk to him. And he told you I was getting married? He’s lucky he isn’t here. I don’t care if he’s my father, nobody talks to my girl like that.”

He’s rambling, something he does when he’s at his end. His words wrap around you, tangling with every part of you and sinking into your skin. They lull you into a daze of sorts, almost nodding off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realise how tired you are until you’re in his arms, safe. And then it hits you, and you’re wide awake again.

“Your girl?”

You cut him off mid sentence, squeezing your legs tighter around him to bring his attention back to you.

“What did you say, love?” Draco hikes you further up his body, readjusting his grip on you.

Your cheeks flame, your neck hot. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something that you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give. His lips are so close to yours, his breath hitting your lips with every exhale. The courtyard around you fades away and Hogwarts itself holds its breath.

“Did you call me your girl, Draco?”

He doesn’t blush like you thought he would, “yes, I did. That’s what you are. Mine. And Merlin help my father for trying to take you away from me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink into your flesh. They curl around your bones, laying down a warmth that you’ve been craving for longer than you can remember. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s Draco. You are his and you always have been. His arm around your back tightens, jostling you enough to make you cling harder to him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. He leans his head back, giving in to your touch willingly. 

He holds your gaze as your fingers weave through his silky hair, capturing you with his eyes and refusing to let go, “I’m yours, Draco. Please don’t let me go.”

He leans his forehead against yours, “never, love.”

Hogwarts releases the breath it had been holding, the noise of the courtyard once more fluttering around you. You go to get down from Draco but he stops you, tightening his arms. You only shake your head and smile, letting the sunshine warm your face.

Your heart aches slightly still though, “what are we going to do about your father, Dra?

He starts walking, the sudden movement causing you to tug his hair a little harder.

His voice is strained when he finally answers, leaning down to rub his cheek against your head, “just let me handle that, ok?” 

You give in, for now, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for the final time, “where are we going, Dra?”

“We, my love, are going to take a very much needed nap.” 

[strawwritesfic]

Draco Malfoy x Female!Reader: Boat

Summary: I’ll always promise you the last dance.

Rating/Warnings: All (Slytherin!Reader; pure-blood!Reader; Pansy & Reader friendship, kind of; Draco and Reader are childhood friends; Yule Ball shenanigans; set during Goblet of Fire; one sided!Lee Jordan/Reader; one sided!Pansy/Draco)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.      

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Boat

Out pushed the grand wood doors of the great stone castle, and out poured a gaggle of giggling students. Their rapid steps pressed fresh footprints in the newly-fallen snow that lay in towering mounds across the school grounds. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike shrieked and laughed and shouted from all sides. In the rush of excitement, even your little gang of Slytherins forgot to be too mature to join in the fun. They did not, however, forget to keep an eye on you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Pansy shouted as you skirted the snowball fight set dead in front of Hogwarts’ entrance.

“Not sure why you think it’s any of your business,” you answered coolly.

Pansy gaped at you, as you’d known she would, and got a face full of snow courtesy of Goyle for her trouble. Of course, you shouldn’t have laughed at this as hard as you did. You were supposed to be Pansy’s friend. Given present circumstances, you couldn’t help but derive some pleasure at seeing her look so foolish.

“I don’t think I’ll be joining you today,” you said when the titters had subsided. “A snowball fight is too childish. I’m going to take a walk instead.”

“I’ll go with you.” Draco peeled himself away from the tree he’d been leaning on.

“You’re going to go on a walk? With [Name]?” Pansy demanded.

“We’re a little too grown up for games, the two of us. We’ll catch up with you later.“

Clearly, Pansy had learned nothing from earlier. Again she gaped, and again Goyle shoved snow into her face. It was to the sound of his stupid laughter that you and Draco set off on a quiet walk to the lake.

Most things between you and Draco were quiet those days. You had known him long enough not to take his silences personally when you had nothing to do with them. Unfortunately, you suspected that this time, you did have something to do with it. As much as you had hoped for his company that day, you had no clue what to do with it now you had it. For a long while, the only sounds were your boots stamping through the thin layer of hard snow on the ground and your teeth chattering against each other.

Draco did nothing to break the ice, literally or figuratively. Occasionally, his gloved hand would brush the back of yours, but other than that, you might as well have been all alone–all alone, staring at the Drumstrang ship in the middle of the lake and its students swimming in the unfrozen waters just outside it.

“Glad I’m not expected to get in there with them. Looks worse than the snowball fight,” you said, half-smiling at your companion.

Draco’s gray eyes finally shifted to meet yours. “It’s probably not that cold. I could handle it. If I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure.” Roll your eyes though you might have, still it was good to hear some of Draco’s usual self peeking through. You gestured at the shoreline. “Go on, then. No one’s stopping you. Bet it’d be good for a laugh.”

He hesitated. “No. I don’t think so. Not today.”

“Got a hot date later? Don’t want to mess up your hair?”

One corner of Draco’s mouth puckered. You giggled, nudged him, and motioned with your head at a nearby stone bench. He did not protest your leading him over to it, nor helping you brush off most of the snow before you sat down. His shoulders hunched up once you did, though. You held your tongue a few minutes longer, watching the flags on the ship flying in the breeze–but even you had limited amounts of self-control.

“Honestly, Draco, I can’t believe you’re taking Pansy to the ball tonight!”

Color raced into his pale cheeks; his thin eyebrows pinched forward as he frowned. “Oh, because your choice is so much better. If you’re so smart, who else was I supposed to go with?”

“Anyone! Some Durmstrang girl. Hermione Granger.” You tossed your head at his snort when you mentioned this last one. “You’re Draco Malfoy. You could go with anyone you wanted, but you went with Pansy just because she’s pure-blood and pretty.”

“Don’t you dare–you know I can’t take whoever I want, and you know why! Don’t think you can lecture me on who I should have asked when at least I asked someone of good birth.”

“You should have asked me before Lee did, that’s all.”

“A half-blood. And I’m the one lowering myself.”

You had known Draco for almost as long as you could remember. Your family tree was not quite pure enough to tempt his father to arrange a marriage, but good enough to provide a nearby playmate throughout your childhoods. School hadn’t changed much, except that you had to learn to share your best friend with a whole multitude of others, Pansy included.

When he had stopped you after dinner one night to ask you to the Yule Ball, you’d been so shocked you’d told him the only thing you could think of: the truth. Never in a million years would you have dreamed he would just drop the subject (he usually got what he wanted), or that your father would start sending you owls scolding you over exactly what Draco was saying at that very moment.

“He’s a damn sight better than Pansy, and he makes me laugh,” you said, as though that settled the matter.

"I suppose that’s because his entire life is a joke,” said Draco.

“You’re just jealous.” No need to bring up that that was the chimney calling the cauldron black. Your behavior toward Pansy since she’d come squealing into the common room with the news ten nights ago had probably made your feelings pretty obvious, but if Draco hadn’t figure it out yet, you weren’t going to spell it out for him. “Anyway, if you’d asked me first, I would have said yes, but you didn’t, and that’s all there is to it. I’m not backing out on Lee. Like I said, he makes me laugh. You haven’t made me laugh once since you tried asking me.”

Your nose could not have further pointed in the air if you tried to force it. Mentally prepared to have Draco insult both you and your date once more, you were surprised when you looked over at him and found a strange expression on his face. Draco’s cheeks were very faintly pink, lips slightly ajar, his eyes shining. He ducked his head when he caught you staring.

“You would have gone with me? If I asked before he did?”

“Of course!” you burst out, and a reluctant smile twisted his features. “Do you think I want to go with some Gryffindor when I could have gone with you?”

His smile grew just a little as he shifted closer to you on the bench. “You wanted to go with me?”

“Obviously.” Actually, you’d thought Draco would have insisted a little more on you dumping Lee for him to begin with. When he hadn’t, you’d assumed it was because you weren’t his first choice. “And you wanted to go with me?”

“Who else would I really want to go with? And don’t you dare say Granger.”

You laughed, bumping your shoulder gently against his. “I’d kill you myself if you went with her.”

“At least my father wouldn’t have to. But I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot wand.”

“I know, I know.”

The silence that fell that time was amicable and broken only by the sound of one of the Durmstrang boys slamming into the lake water. Your breath fogged in front of you as you watched. Beside you, Draco radiated the only warmth available–a warmth you couldn’t exactly take advantage of without infuriating his date.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” you announced suddenly.

“For what? Asking another girl when you said no?”

“For not asking me sooner and ruining both our evenings,” you replied with another toss of your head. He didn’t argue. “Save me one dance? Please? We can sneak off if we have to, so Pansy and Lee won’t know.”

He paused, then shared with you a rare grin. “Deal. But only if you promise to go to the next ball with me.”

“Promise.”

Perhaps this would have led to something deeper than the friendship you both had shared so far. Maybe Draco would have tried to hold your hand in earnest, or you would have worked up the nerve to give him a kiss.

You would never know. Just then Pansy appeared, with Goyle and Crabbe and Theodore in tow, insisting it was time you girls went inside to get ready for that night. You didn’t miss the iron grip she kept on your arm as she steered you back toward the castle, nor the scowl on her face–but what did it matter? It was you Draco wanted, and next time, he would be yours for sure.

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!)

feat. Tsukkishima Kei 

requested for by @animestheticz (hope you enjoy it bb!) 

Previously:

Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro.

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Tsukkishima / Reader

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 

(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)

Oh and this is just shameless advertisement for my other fic - but I’m also writing a multi chapter fic based off Your Name / Kimi No Nawa featuring Akaashi Keiji (i.e. a bodyswap AU featuring our favourite Tokyo pretty boy). Check it out here!

——————————————————————

“P-please? Just this once?’ Yachi begs, fingers gripping your sleeve like a vice. 

You’re sorely tempted to refuse her ridiculous request, but you can’t bring yourself to. This is Yachi Hitoka, your best friend, though currently she’s a nervous wreck fretting over her first date with Yamaguchi Tadashi. The sweet, freckled Hufflepuff chaser has finally worked up the courage to act on his painfully obvious crush on Yachi - both veritable balls of sunshine, so sweet and anxious and caring that you can’t imagine a better match. 

So you don’t understand why on earth you’re being asked to tag along on a double date with one Tsukkishima Kei. 

It’s not that you dislike the guy – far from it. You’ve had a crush on him yourself ever since Yachi started hanging around Yamaguchi in your third year, sucking you and Tsukkishima have been sucked into their orbit, reluctant moons revolving around twin suns. But you’ve tucked it away since Tsukkishima doesn’t seem to have an interest in anyone at all – in fact, half the time his snarky replies and cold silences make you think he barely tolerates Yamaguchi as a friend, let alone yourself. 

Still, refusing Yachi is tantamount to kicking an injured puppy, so you swallow your reservations and agree. 

‘Thank you!’ Yachi cheers. ‘We’ll have fun, I promise!’ 

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

It’s summer, and your blouse is sticking to your back as you dash through Diagon Alley. Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi are already waiting in front of Flourish & Botts, the former barely even granting you a nod, though he does give you the courtesy of removing his headphones, while Yamaguchi bounces on the balls of his feet to greet you cheerfully. 

‘Woah there Yamaguchi – keep your enthusiasm for your date’, you joke, and he grins back at you.  And he does – stuttering and blushing as Yachi arrives. Yachi herself is no better – you swear you can hear her teeth chatter as she greets all of you, though she beams when Yamaguchi presents her with a small posy of flowers with clammy hands. 

‘They’re cute’, you remark to Tsukkishima as you walk beside him on the way to the first stop -  Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

‘Mm’, he responds, his face blank. 

You know he doesn’t suffer fools – worse still, talkative ones, so you fall silent until you reach the ice cream store. To your surprise, he pulls the chair out for you, and accepts your offer to share a cup of ice cream with you, a tilt to his lips when you automatically order a strawberry shortcake sundae – it’s his favourite after all. 

Yachi and Yamaguchi seem to have gotten over their initial shyness, chatting up a storm in their own little world. You’re excluded, as you expected, but you’re glad for their sakes. 

‘Excited about the last year of school?’ 

You glance up from your melting sundae, surprised that Tsukkishima is the first to break and initiate a conversation. From your interactions with him, he’s deliberate and methodical in his thoughts and words, so you take a few beats to formulate a response. 

‘Yes and no, really’, you answer honestly. 

He raises a thin blonde eyebrow, wordlessly beckoning you to elaborate. 

‘I’m excited for our classes, the syllabus seems really interesting this year’, you say, wincing at how desperately nerdy you sound – but you’re a hopeless Ravenclaw, and advanced Arithmancy and Astronomy excites you. ‘But it’s scary isn’t it – knowing that it’s our last year, and having to make all those important decisions that are going to affect us, years down the road?’ 

He hums thoughtfully. ‘I get that’, he responds, hands steepled under his chin. ‘I’m deciding between doing further studies in magical history and going pro – just for a few more years. But I know no matter what decision I end up making, I’ll probably end up second guessing myself’. 

‘Why can’t you do both?’ you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows a notch. ‘You’re great at both, and I can’t see why you can’t as long as you put your mind to it’. 

You cringe at your cheesiness, expecting him to snark at you for your Hufflepuff-like optimism the way he does with Yamaguchi, but you’re surprised once again when he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’, a flush high in his cheeks, and then asks -  ‘And what about you?’ 

You wonder if he’s merely being polite, but his tone is serious, and his eyes are intently focused on you, so you tell him about your plans of taking on further studies in Arithmancy, perhaps even enroll in a Muggle university to study Mathematics for a semester or two, before working in Gringotts. The goblins may be archaic in their beliefs about the magical world, but their application of mathematics is extremely advanced. 

‘It suits you’, he comments. You want to ask him what he means by that, but Yachi pipes up from across the table.  

‘If you’re done with your ice cream, do you guys want to check out the magical menagerie? Yamaguchi’s going to get a cat!’ 

Before you can agree, Tsukkishima tells Yachi and Yamaguchi to go on ahead, drolly reminding them that they’re on a date, and they should go spend some quality time together. So they head off with wide smiles, shoulders bumping. They’re so sweet together it almost makes your teeth ache. Well, at least you’ve been dismissed as their reluctant chaperone, and you’re about to wish Tsukkishima a polite farewell when he taps your shoulder. 

‘Let’s go check out Flourish & Botts. I’m sure you have books you want to check out’. 

You blink – because you do, but you don’t expect Tsukkishima to accompany you, let alone be the one seeking out your company. He doesn’t even wait for your assent before he sets off, and you have to jog to keep up with the pace his long legs set. Thankfully, he notices you’re still lagging behind and slows down, though he teases dryly – ‘you know, at the rate you’re walking, I’m not sure we’ll get there before sundown’. 

You pointedly look up at the sun, still high in the sky, before levelling an unimpressed glare at him. He only smirks in response – and you’re so flustered by how attractive his expression is that you nearly trip over the threshold to Flourish & Botts. He catches you with a steady hand to your elbow – and now your heart is fluttering – is this how Yachi is like all the time? If so, you should really cut her some slack – the thoughts crowding your mind so distracting that you hardly hear Tsukkishima call your name in concern until he shakes your shoulder gently. 

‘Are you alright?’ Tsukkishima repeats, with a frown. 

‘Y-yes’, you reply, cursing your traitorous heart again. He doesn’t look like he believes you, insistently pushing you towards an empty couch. 

He clicks his tongue. ‘Don’t move’ he orders, before he disappears, probably to get the books he has his eyes on.  

You sink into the cushions, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment. An hour spent in his presence and you’ve already turned back into a lovesick fool. You’ve told yourself countless times to just get over your silly crush on him already because it’s not going to do you any good. 

Yamaguchi’s complained to you and Yachi countless times about girls asking him if Tsukkishima is single, but you don’t see him taking an interest in anyone at all – spending all his time instead in the library and on the Quidditch pitch. 

He’s the stone faced beater from Ravenclaw. People wonder sometimes if ice flows in his veins – but they don’t see the determined set of his jaw when he’s ploughing through homework and assignments because he knows he’s going to have to spend the whole day in training the next day, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes whenever he wins a match or scores a good grade, the patience he expends tutoring Yamaguchi (along with Hinata and Kageyama) in Ancient Runes – 

Oh Merlin. You’re a hopeless case. 

 You jump when he returns and drops into a seat beside you. 

‘Oi, what’s wrong with you’, he mutters a tad scornfully, though he drops the book you were eyeing onto your lap. 

‘N-nothing. T-thanks!’ you answer, internally cursing yourself for even picking up Yachi’s speech patterns. 

Get it together. You’re not a fool. 

He hums, browsing his own book. 

It’s pleasant spending an afternoon in a nook reading books. It’s not so pleasant when your heart palpitates every single time his knee grazes yours - and if you shift just a tiny bit to the left you’re pressing against his side and - oh 

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ he asks, frowning again, when he notices you’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes. 

‘F-fine’, you stammer, warmth flooding your cheeks when he leans his face dangerously close to yours, bringing his palm to brush against your forehead. 

‘Your temperature’s fine’, he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away – and oh gosh, you’re so close you can count every single lash on his eyes, your traitorous heart causing you to drown in the quiet concern in his eyes – and oh - 

You’re not quite sure who makes the first move because your eyes flutter close, your nose bumps against his and you feel his chapped lips against yours for a split second before he pulls away. 

You open your eyes. 

Did that truly happen? 

Judging from the blank expression on his face, the past few seconds were probably just a fever dream. But there are signs that cool, quiet Tsukkishima isn’t his usual self - a flush creeping up the back of his neck, his fingers gripping the pages of the book so tightly it starts to crinkle.  

‘What was that?’ you blurt out, confused. 

‘What was what?’ Though his voice remains calm and collected, his flush has traveled all the way to the very tips of his ears. 

‘Nothing’, you answer, dropping your eyes back to the open book on your lap, your mind in a whirl. Surely you didn’t imagine that, right? Did you just - did he just - wait, you’re confused again, what’s going on? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by elegant, long fingers slotting between your own. ‘Silly’ he mutters, but there’s a fond twist to his lips and a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only silly one here’, you respond, in a sudden swell of confidence, though your pulse is sending tremors down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the silly one too’. You curl your fingers over his and lean into his side. 

He hums diffidently. ‘I guess it might seem that way’. 

You both share a shy smile. 

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

Yachi is smug when you confess to her later that Tsukkishima - no - Kei asked you out as he walked you home that evening. 

‘I told you that we’d have fun!’, she says, grinning cheek to cheek. Then she starts rambling on and on about future double dates with her and Yamaguchi in Madame Puddifoots, where you can share couple sundaes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate - wouldn’t that be wonderful? 

You resist the urge to tell her that Kei has sworn off any future double dates - let alone at the white and pink lace bedazzled monstrosity of a cafe, and his suggestion of a quiet afternoon spent at his favourite bookshop cafe sounds far more inviting to you. 

You’ll let Yamaguchi break the news to her later, on a more appropriate date.  

Instead you just smile to yourself, thinking of the quiet affection in his voice as he wished you farewell, and the suppressed delight in his eyes when you called his name just as he was about to turn away and surprised him by pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his cheek. 

Yachi’s right. You did have fun after all. 

[imaginedxlan]

loverboy (neville longbottom)

a/n: i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, i am a SIMP for neville longbottom. also yall...  one away from 1k, how’d that happen? you guys rock my socks and i love you the absolutely most! sorry this one is kind of short i just liked the concept.

you’ve been friends with neville longbottom since first year. becoming comfortable with the shy boy and his frog over the years, you began calling him a nickname that makes him wish you would see him as anything other than your best friend.

warnings: zero baby just pure fluff

neville doesn’t open up to just anyone. after years of being shut down in every conversation, left out of nearly every house activity, he’s built a wall to protect himself from the people of hogwarts who constantly make him feel less than. you’re one of the lucky ones. you’ve seen beyond his high walls, he’s opened up to you about his parents, his insecurities and eventually pulled him out of his shell to talk about girls with you.

the nickname started when he told you about his small crush on luna lovegood. he seemed so entranced by her, he kissed the ground he walked on. once you caught on to his pining, you’ve called him loverboy ever since. it’s not to be mean or tease him, you actually admired how much he devoted his time to thinking about her.

what you didn’t know, however, is that it was never luna lovegood he was talking about. when he would describe his feelings for luna her name was only a placeholder for yours. he’d loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, thinking even your crooked teeth, frizzy haired eleven year old self was the most beautiful creature he’d ever see.

“good morning loverboy,” you call sweetly as you sit next to the dark haired boy in potions class. you never found this class particularly interesting, but being able to sit next to neville made it at least slightly more fun. his heart aches at the nickname, trying to conceal the blush that is creeping on his cheeks. “sleep well?”

“hardly,” he replies, still keeping up his façade. “harry talks in his sleep all through the night. keeps me and trevor awake for hours.”

you smile at the mention of his beloved frog. “oh my dear trevor! how is my favorite amphibian?”

neville can’t contain his smile or his heart that hammering in his chest. you’re the only person who’s ever shown interest in the things he likes, the things he goes on and on about for hours. you’ve never once stopped him from going off on a tangent about his mimbulus mimbletonia or how he’s lost trevor for the tenth time that week. you’ve never rolled your eyes when he comes to sit with you in the library. you’ve never shied away from sitting next to him in herbology though many students find his chiming in rather annoying.

“he’s good,” he replies, trying to stop himself from gazing at you for too long. “i think he misses you.”

you laugh at his response, you really do love that frog. “you better make sure i’m not replaced as trevor’s favorite girl when you finally make a move on luna,” you tease but his heart drops. he knows it’s only a joke but he can’t imagine loving anyone other than you. “if i’m losing one of my loverboys i don’t think my heart could take losing the other as well.”

except you could never lose him. he can’t think of a time when his heart would belong to anyone else. he couldn’t say the same for you. as much as he wants to be around you and knows the nickname isn’t meant to make him sad, it only reminds him of the fact that he’ll never truly be your loverboy. the time will come when you go for a weasley or maybe even that ravenclaw boy you’ve talked about in defends against the dark arts with you and neville isn’t quite sure his heart will survive it.

as professor snape opened his book at the front of the class, the class quieted down. veritaserum. you had heard about the potion, mostly from the weasley twins slipping it in their younger brother’s drink once or twice, but you’d never used it. neville begins to fidget nervously beside you, and you think you know why. privacy has always been very important to the boy and something forcing him to talk about his deepest darkest fears or worse, his parents, is probably eating away at him.

you’re wrong. he’s so nervous because he’s afraid he’ll slip up if he takes it and someone will accidentally ask him about you. he won’t be able to keep his secret anymore.

“s’alright nev,” you whisper to him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it slightly. an act of intended comfort made him nauseous. “i won’t let anyone pull any secrets from my loverboy, promise.”

you give him a sweet smile which only makes his heart race more. you’re so beautiful, even without the potion he could’ve let that thought slip to you if he wasn’t too careful. as class goes on, he thanks his lucky stars he isn’t chosen for the demonstration. watching you brew the potion to perfection surely would have made it difficult for him to keep back all the feelings he has for you.

later in the evening, however, he did not get so lucky. the twins somehow convinced seamus and dean to slip a few drops of the potion they’d learned to make that morning into neville’s pumpkin juice at dinner. you didn’t notice or surely you would have taken it from them and scolded them for picking on the boy, but you were to engrossed in a conversation with hermione to catch it. neville almost immediately realizes what’s happened when seamus begins asking him questions.

“how your feeling, longbottom?”

“tired, honestly kind of sweaty, really think i need a shower after dinner,” he says before he can stop himself, he smacks his hand to him mouth and his cheeks go red. dean and seamus burst out laughing making all of you turn to the three of them.

“sweaty? why would you possibly be sweaty neville?” dean continues the interrogation.

“been nervous all day, especially in potions. couldn’t get my mind off the stupid veritaserum and if anyone would ask me about y/n,” neville replies with his cheeks turning more red by the minute. you now had your full attention in the boy and he couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his lips. “you should have seen her, she brewed the potion perfectly. she’s so smart. godric and beautiful, i-”

you immediately stop him by smacking your own hand to his mouth. “merlin’s sake what did the two of you do?”

dean and seamus have a cheeky grin spread across their lips. “fred and george gave us veritaserum to put in his juice, didn’t think this would happen.”

without a second thought you pull your best friend from the table and out of the great hall to spare him of any more embarrassment he would have to endure. neville follows you blindly, grateful that you didn’t sit there and start laughing at him. when you get to the common room it’s empty, everyone being at dinner. you pull him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look in the glowing flame.

“are you okay?” you ask, pulling your hand from his to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry they did that nev, you didn’t deserve that.”

“i’m more than okay,” he replies with a lazy grin on his face before switching back to his stone cold face full of nerves. “i like it when we’re by ourselves, wish it happened more often.”

“what do you mean, loverboy?”

“i wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he snaps but immediately regrets his tone. “not if you don’t mean it.”

“what are you on about? i mean it.”

“not in the way i want you to mean it...”

you’re trying to wrap you’re mind around what’s happening. sure you and neville have always been close and you compliment eachother here and there but this is different. you don’t want to take advantage of him, not when he’ll tell you everything you want to know while you can sit back and enjoy the show. you swiftly get up and tell him you’ll be right back. he sits on the couch confused as he watches you run out of the room. you make it to the great hall and everyone is looking at you as if you’ve gotten answers out of him that they’d want to know but you ignore him. you lift the tainted cup that neville had drank out of just minutes ago and take a swig.

“y/n!” hermione shrieks and you swallow the liquid. “what do you think you’re doing!”

“getting answers.” you say simply before running out of the room. you don’t feel any different, maybe it hadn’t worked. once you reach the common room again neville is exactly where you left him. “back.”

“what’d you do?”

“i drank the veritserum too,” you tell him and his eyes go wide. “this is going to be a fair conversation.”

neville swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of the two of you being completely honest with each other. he’s partly afraid the truth he’s about to hear is that you only want to be his friend, or that him confessing his feeling for you will only push you away. but there’s another part of him that’s hopeful, you took the veritaserum so this would be “fair,” that has to mean something.

“what were you doing to say when i stopped you earlier?” you ask him. “you said ‘i’ but i stopped you.”

he tries his best to push down the answer but it keeps making its way up his throat. “i was going to say i couldn’t keep my eyes off you all class.”

blush creeps onto your cheeks but you’re not certain why. you noticed him looking at you in potions but you assumed he was trying to understand how to make the potion.

“you’re turn.”

he thinks for a while, unsure of what he should ask you. “do you like matthew, the boy you talk about in ravenclaw, like like him?”

“i like him as a friend, nothing else,” you say back, your heart beginning to race. “do you like luna?”

“i never did, i like someone else.” he answers. you wish it was your turn again, you want to ask him who, part of you knows he’s going to say you given what you’ve learned this evening. you reach out to hold his hand and his touch makes your skin burn. “have you ever thought of us as more than friends?”

you want to say yes, you know it the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not the truth. you can’t lie to him even if you wanted to. before this moment, you only thought of him as a friend. not because you dislike him or think he’s unattractive, it’s just all he’s ever been to you. you take a deep breath and turn your eyes down to the floor.

“honestly, no,” you say back, neville swears he can hear his heart break within him rib cage. his heart burns at your response. he’s gotten his answer. “when did you start to think of me as more than a friend.”

he never came out and said he had feelings for you, but you’ve connected the dots. everything he’s answered, all the questions he’s asked points to him looking at you as more than just his friend. you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“first year, the minute you spoke to me i couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen, i still do, ” his words make your heart burst. you turn your head to meet his eyes again. they’re burning into you’re gaze. “what is it about me that’s made you only think of me as a friend, do you think i’m ugly?”

“godric no!” you say a bit too quickly for your own liking. “i never thought of you that way because that’s all we ever were neville, friends. i noticed how handsome you were last year, the long hair suited you, but i think you look nice any way you are. i had a dream about you at the christmas last year, i think that’s when i noticed how handsome you were. i guess i just never entertained the thought because you never gave me the impression you wanted anything more than this.”

he feels less shattered, less like you just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. hearing that you think he’s handsome sent butterflies to stomach. he’s quiet and so are you.

“do you want to stop?”

“no, i have another question,” he replies, pulling his hands from yours and backing away from you. you miss his touch already. maybe you did like him a little more than you thought. he braces himself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for your reaction to what’s about to come out of his mouth. “if i asked to kiss you would you say no?”

“no.” you tell him quietly, if you thought your heart couldn’t pound any faster, it did. it feels like it’s about to jump from your chest. “do you want to kiss me?”

“merlin yes,” he almost whispers. he doesn’t move from his spot, eyes avoiding yours at all costs. always being the braver of the two of you, you take matters into your own hands. you pull yourself closer to him and rest your hand upon his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you again. you suck in a breath, the closest the two of you had ever been. “i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i know.”

you lean forward only a few centimeters until your lips are barely touching. you hesitate only because you know after this moment you can’t go back to being just friends again, this is going to change everything. even so, there’s like a magnetic pull between you too, you’re craving the feeling of his lips against yours.

while still deep in your thought and hesitations, your eyes drilled shut as you try and decide what to do, you feel his lips press against yours and you melt. it’s better than either of you could have imagined. while neville had be dreaming of this moment for six years, you had only just begun thinking about him in this way minutes ago. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and he places his on the small of your back, pulling you closer into him. You move yourself so that your sat on top of his thighs, attempting to expel any space between the two of you. his hands rest on your hips just before you pull away from him to catch your breath. his eyes flicker between yours, looking for an answer to what you’re feeling.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, thinking the worst. “do you want to stop? we can pretend this never happened.”

“i never want to stop.”

you connect your lips with his again, slinging your arms around his neck to feel the closeness again. you know he’s never done anything like this before, he’s probably nervous out of his mind, so you attempt to ease his worries by guiding his actions. in just the few minutes you’ve spent with your lips on his, you’ve because obsessed with the feeling. you can hear how heavily he’s breathing as his hand moves from your side to be entangled in your hair. you can’t help but smile, this moment is pure bliss.

you eventually pull away from each other, you decide it’s best to keep this night to just his first kiss. you lean forward and plant a soft kiss to the side of his neck before burying your face in the soft skin. eventually his breath evens out, and he moves his arms to wrap around you.

“what happens now?” he asks, hoping the veritaserum can give him some sort of clear view into your brain.

“i don’t know,” you reply, it’s honest, you have no idea what happens from here on out. “what do you want to happen?”

“i want to kiss you like that a million more times,” he breathes out which makes you laugh into his neck. looks like ther veritaserum hasn’t worn off just yet. “can we just sit here for a minute so we don’t have to think about what’s gonna come?”

“you read my mind, loverboy.”

[vnderoos]

in your place ✷ draco malfoy

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, steamy scene, slight choking(?) word count / 3.1k

masterlist in bio ↴

Y/N'S HEAD SLUMPED further into her hand, her cheek smushing against it, as Snape rambled on, in his usual monotone manner, about the highly poisonous nature of the Weedosoros potion. She was far from a model student, seeing as Granger had raised most of the professors' expectations impossibly higher, but she was usually more alert, especially in Potions. She felt bad at first, when she'd started to doze off in the middle of class, but when she'd reminded herself of how badly she'd slept the night before and how nice it felt to close her eyes for a few seconds, her guilt ebbed away. It disappeared altogether when she slipped out of consciousness completely, falling asleep against her hand. In her unconscious state, she began to slide forward slowly, until she let out a loud snore and her head smacked against the desk.

The impact was enough to wake her up in an instant and she gasped instinctively, her eyes shooting open. A stinging feeling spread across her forehead and there was a string of saliva that connected her mouth to her hand when she sat up. "Had a nice nap, did you, Y/L/N?" someone asked in a mocking tone and everyone erupted into laughter. Her eyes flickered over to Draco Malfoy, who was laughing along with everyone else at his own joke, puckering his lips, and brushing his thumb quickly over the corner of his mouth.

Following his movements, she touched her fingers to her face, as all of the giggling seemed to intensify, and her eyes widened when her fingertips came in contact with her own drool. She was quick to wipe it away with the sleeve of her robe. "Oh, screw off, Malfoy," she grumbled and folded her arms over the top of her desk, looking down in embarrassment as the snickers continued.

Thankfully, the commotion was short lived after that and Professor Snap came to her rescue—unintentionally, of course. The man, with his dark and flowing robes swishing with movement, lifted his arms up and slammed a book down onto his desk. "That's enough," he all-but-yelled and it was almost frightening how easily he could calm down a room. The laughter ceased without another word and her peers tore their eyes off of her, so they could turn back around in their seats. When Snape was satisfied with the atmosphere again, his dark eyes flickered over to Y/N. She swallowed thickly under his gaze. "Miss Y/L/N," he started and she tried to drown out her nervous heartbeat. "Fifteen points from Slytherin. I suggest you keep yourself awake unless you want to make it thirty," he enunciated.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, professor." She nodded once and she managed a sheepish smile, grateful that he'd chosen to deduct points instead of embarrassing her with a question about Weedosoros that she definitely wouldn't have known the answer to. Snape only scowled at her in return, before resuming his lecture about the poison, going on to explain how it's effects weren't entirely unlike that of the Drink of Despair.

When Snape had immersed himself back into his teaching and Y/N's incident seemed miles behind them, she glanced over at Tracey Davis—her closest friend since their first year, and fortunately, her potions partner for the semester. "Can you believe he did that?" she asked in a quiet voice, a look of disbelief forming on her face, and the brunette turned towards her.

"Well," Tracey countered, spinning her quill in her fingertips. A little blob of ink splattered onto her parchment and she grimaced, deciding to set it back in her ink pot before she could do any further damage. "You did fall asleep during his lecture," she said, looking at Y/N with her striking blue eyes.

Y/N shook her head. "No, not Snape," she said, her eyes flickering past Tracey's shoulder to glare daggers at Draco. He was leaning into his hand on his desk with his eyes fixated on the front of the room. She would rather suffer the Cruciatus curse than admit it, but when he wasn't running his mouth, he was kinda handsome. It was the fact that he made everyone miserable that made him so horribly unattractive to her. "That twit—Malfoy," she practically growled his name, considering how throaty it sounded when it rumbled up her throat. She must've spoken a bit too loud as his head whipped towards her. His eyes narrowed as soon as they met hers and her lip curled up at him. She flashed him a subtle middle finger and he pinched his face up in disgust, rolling his eyes at her and turning back around. "What a smug bastard," she muttered.

Tracey let out a quiet laugh from beside her, having watched the exchange. "Merlin, you are grumpy this morning," she teased, sending her a lighthearted look from the side.

"Grumpy?" Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at that. "I'm not grumpy," she protested, nodding in Draco's direction. "He's just bloody annoying. I'm going to get back at him for embarrassing me like that," she promised.

"Really? And how are you going to do that?" Tracey asked. "Wait for him to fall asleep, and then, hope he's the one drooling?" she said playfully and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Shut up," she sputtered out in a quiet laugh and she leaned back in her chair. The gears were already turning in her head as her back hit the wooden chair. "In the courtyard later. You'll see."

—

Draco walked beneath the arches of the castle and into the courtyard, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him as he did. He didn't miss the way a group of older Slytherin boys watched him walk by, before snickering amongst themselves when he passed. He received a few odd looks from the other house members, too. Even the Hufflepuffs were shooting him sideways glances as he made his way to his favorite spot in the courtyard.

Confusion bubbled up inside of him as two girls, dressed in yellow and black robes, walked by him, hiding their faces as they giggled. His eyebrows furrowed and he spared them a glance over his shoulder as they left. He couldn't remember doing anything worthy of talk that day, as all he'd done was sit through his classes and eat, so he turned his attention to the two boys at his sides. "Have I gone mad or does something seem off with everyone today?" he questioned, nodding in the direction of the girls that he'd just seen.

Crabbe and Goyle were about to respond with a shrug of their shoulders, but before they could offer their useless input, someone in the courtyard let out a loud wail. All three of them turned, heads spinning to find the source, and somehow, Draco wasn't surprised to see Y/N Y/L/N standing on top of one of the stone benches. She had the back of her hand draped against her forehead, her face twisted in mock despair, and she jumped off of the bench. "Oh, it's killed me," she whined, throwing her head back and pretending to clutch one of her arms in pain, and the whole thing seemed all too familiar to him. "It's killed me," she continued, and the crowd of students that had gathered around her started to laugh.

Draco could feel the anger bubble up inside of him as Crabbe pointed his finger. He swatted the heavyset boy's finger out of his vision. "I see it," he snapped, narrowing his eyes at the girl as she continued to act out an incident from his third year, when Hagrid's hippogriff attacked him. "I'll take care of this," he sneered and he started towards the girl with purpose in his stride.

Before Y/N noticed the blonde making his way over to her, she let herself fall backwards onto Tracey Davis, who giggled as she held her up. "You're gonna regret this," she cried in a high-pitched voice, "you and your bloody chicken," she finished and she pushed herself off of the girl. She, Tracey, and the rest of the students around them were laughing at her reenactment. "I know I'm not just speaking for myself when I—" she cut herself off when she turned her head and her eyes fell on none other than the subject of all of her joking.

His face was screwed up in annoyance as he walked up to the group, and though the laughter died in his presence, Y/N let her crooked smile stay sitting on her lips. "Think it's funny, Y/L/N?" he hissed, his eyes snapping up and down the length of her body, and she scoffed.

"Oh, extremely, Malfoy," she hummed, taking a challenging step towards him. "Not as funny when Mad-Eye turned you into a ferret, though," she added with a tilt of her head and a couple Ravenclaws laughed from behind her.

Draco's eyes flitted behind her, shooting off a menacing glare at them, and the laughter stopped. He looked back at Y/N, his face harboring the same dirty expression. "Yeah?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows, as if he was baiting her, and she nodded. "We'll see how you get on as a ferret, then," he snapped and his hand disappeared into his robe, fishing for his wand.

Unfortunately for him, Y/N was quicker.

She watched as his hand plunged into the pocket inside of his cloak and she, always ready for confrontation, slid her wand out through the end of her sleeve. It slotted itself into her fingertips like it'd been buttered, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent a blue flash flying in his direction. Her Knockback Jinx hit him directly in the shoulder just as soon as he'd pulled his own wand out and he was sent flying a few feet backwards into a patch of grass. His wand clattered out of his grasp upon the impact and he clambered to his feet.

As Y/N made her way over to him, she watched as his eyes darted in the direction of wherever his wand had flown. He looked almost bewildered for a moment, but he was quick to replace it with the scowl he'd near-perfected. She countered his look with a cold expression and he stepped closer to her, meeting her halfway. "You're gonna be sorry, you git," he practically snarled. She cursed the way hat her heart stuttered when her eyes locked with his, but she didn't let it faze her, looking up at him through dead eyes as he stared down at her.

"Doubtful, honey." She let herself scoff at his words, her eyes scanning the length of his body. "You might be the 'Slytherin Prince', but I'm the fucking queen," she growled, pressing the tip of her wand to the center of his chest and sliding it up to his chin. She let a small smirk tug at her lips as she tilted his head up, watching his jaw clench as he squinted down at her. "Bow down, bitch," she uttered in triumph, glowing with pride as someone whistled behind her.

Of course, Y/N hadn't planned on hexing him further, as she knew the severity of the consequences she'd face if she did, but before she could embarrass Draco anymore, Professor McGonagall cut everything short. "What in Merlin's name is going on here, you two?" she questioned, her voice dripping with distraught as she trotted right up to the group, Draco's wand clutched in her grasp. The students around them, including Tracey, scattered and Y/N sucked in a breath. She brought her wand away from Draco's chin slowly. "Explain yourselves," she said, her eyes landing on Y/N's wand, and she held out her hand.

Y/N frowned and placed it in McGonagall's palm. "Professor, I was just defending myself, he tried to hex me," she started, pointing at the blonde beside her and then herself.

Draco, on the other hand, looked at Y/N with his eyes brown wide. "You attacked me," he hissed.

"I attacked you? You were taking your wand out of your robe, was I to sit there and let you—"

"I was not, I was simply—"

"Enough!" McGonagall shouted and Y/N's shoulders shook at the sudden noise. She shot Malfoy a glare, before she turned to look at the woman once more. "I don't care who started it. Fifty points from Slytherin and detention, for both of you. Effective immediately," she said. She slipped both of their wands into the sleeve of her emerald gown and she reached outwards, grabbing one of each of their ears and dragging them to meet their fate.

—

After McGonagall had hauled them off to the greenhouses and abandoned them with Professor Sprout—a stout, old woman with a surprisingly fitting name, they were left rubbing their ears and told to scrub out the clay pots. Without magic. Supposedly, Professor Sprout was planning on using them to let the first years grow something, but Y/N didn't know why flower pots needed scrubbing, anyways.

You were supposed to fill them with dirt, for Merlin's sake.

As she violently scrubbed the bottom of a pot, she cursed McGonagall for catching them at just the right moment and Draco, too, for getting them into that mess in the first place. If he hadn't reached for his wand like the gigantic arse that he was, she never would've needed to hit him with that jinx, no matter how badly she wanted to. Now, they were stuck in the hot, sticky air of the greenhouse, wandless, and scrubbing pots until their hands their hands were raw.

Draco let out a huff of annoyance from beside her, grumbling angry nothings to himself as he furiously scraped the inside of a pot. Y/N looked up from her own work to shoot him a dirty glare. "Quit being a shit," she spat at him and he stopped all he was doing. He dropped his sponge in the pot and turned to look at her, gripping the rim of the large bowl with both of his hands. "It's your fault we're here, so suck. It. Up," she added, continuing to scrub her own pot because she was determined to prove her superiority over him, even in the subtlest regards.

"My fault?" He asked, leaning forward on his elbows, so that he was bracing himself against the thick pot. "If it weren't for you thinking you were a bloody show-woman—" he began to snap, but he laughed bitterly to himself. Draco lifted one of his hands from the pot and wagged his finger at her. "You know? I'm gonna make you wish you never did that," he threatened lowly, and her eyebrows quirked up.

"You gonna go run and tell daddy later, then, Malfoy? Is that what's gonna happen?" she questioned, watching as his arrogance seemed to melt at her belittlements. She didn't even feel bad about it, considering how much shit he gave everyone on a daily basis. Someone needed to knock him down a peg or two, before his ego grew to be the size of the castle. "And what's he gonna do?" she continued to tease, but her voice had grown lower—softer. She dropped her sponge into her pot and stepped away from it, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a couple of steps towards the platinum blonde. "Spank me?" she taunted, puffing out her lip as if she was actually worried.

Y/N felt a certain satisfaction as he clenched his jaw, grinning to herself as she watched it pulse. "Oh, piss off," he growled, spinning away from the pot to face her. Their noses were only inches apart at that point and she could feel his labored breaths fanning over her skin. His eyes, swimming with anger, were locked with her own and his jaw was set. She had gotten under his skin and she loved it.

There were, of course, some things about Draco that she couldn't help but notice in such close proximity, such as the dark blue flecks in his icy eyes or the soft creases in his forehead that came from glaring so often. He was nothing short of handsome and this only proved it. "Make me," she whispered darkly, her words weighed down with her undeniable attraction, and she didn't miss the way that his eyes flickered to her lips.

Hardly a second passed by before she was pulled in by the back of her neck. Draco's other hand snaked around her waist as he crashed his lips onto hers. She'd almost stumbled into him, steadying herself with her hands pressed against his chest as she kissed him back. To say that this came as a surprise would've been lying, taking the tension that had been building between them into account, and for that reason, she let him walk her back towards a stone pillar in the greenhouse. He pinned her up against it forcefully, the wind in her lungs exiting against his lips along with a small whine, and he smirked against her mouth. He moved the hand that rested on her waist, pressing the palm of it next to her head as he slanted his lips against hers, and the hand that held the back of her neck slipped forward, pressing ever so lightly around her throat to hold her in place.

Y/N made another quiet noise, feeling his long fingers start to apply a little more pressure, and she scrunched her fingers up in the fabric of his sweater vest. Not too roughly, though, because she didn't want to ruin the cashmere, of course, but just enough to rub her fingertips against his chest. His mouth began to stray from her own, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth and peppering them along her jawline. She swallowed thickly, tilting her head as much as she could for him with his hand around her throat, and she bit her lip when he nipped at her earlobe.

"This changes nothing," he muttered against the shell of her ear and he pulled back so his eyes could meet her own, taking his hand off of her neck and pressing it on the wall on the other side of her head.

She smirked up at him and lifted her her hands, draping them over his shoulders. "Of course not," she hummed, her tongue darting out between her puffy lips, "you're still a prat, aren't you?" she teased.

Draco didn't laugh, though. Instead, his eyes, cloudy with lust, stole a glance at her collarbone, and his upper twitched. "Do I need to put you in your place, Y/L/N?" he rasped, leaning forwards slightly.

With her eyes never straying from his own, she winked. "I'd like to see you try, Malfoy."

↴

author's note / sorry to everyone on the taglist! i know i posted this before but it got shadowbanned so i had to figure out why it wasn't showing up in the tags and repost it! thanks for bearing with me x

[bubblefina]

King of Hearts chapter 6

Masterlist

Summary: Reader and Tom meet during their years at Hogwarts, but as the years pass a rivalry grows between the two of them, which leads from soft beginnings to tragic endings.

“What could have caused it?” his face turned to yours, his eyes weren’t the same as the ones he used to glare at you, they looked vulnerable. “There are things about my family that just don’t make sense, I found out things that I didn’t want to find out. I found things…”

Pairings: Tom x f!reader

Warning: mentions of suicide(very briefly)

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Chapter 6-  King of hearts

  The halls were silent, only the slight sound of footprints made by prefects could be heard walking down the halls.

It was 11:45, five minutes before you had to pick up Tom from the dungeons. You stood against the wall patiently, listening carefully so if someone were to walk nearby you could hide yourself.

The dungeons were cold, cold and dark. A few dimly lighted lanterns helped to see better, but they didn’t do much. If you weren’t careful, you could trip over your own robes, but luckily you weren’t wearing your house robes tonight. 

While waiting, you hear footsteps coming closer. Hiding behind a column that was nearby, you tried staying as still as possible.

The footsteps got closer until they couldn’t be heard anymore. Your heart felt as if it would beat outside your rib cage, if you were to get caught in the Slytherin dungeon as a student from another house, who knows what the punishment would be.

The footsteps were long gone, that or the person making them was as still as you. Taking a small chance, you turned your head slightly, so you could see if anyone was there, fortunately there wasn’t. 

On the other hand, while you were looking away, a presence had made itself present in front of you.

“Oh my god-” your sudden outburst was cut off by the person putting their hands over your mouth.

“Seeing how this whole this was your idea, your carelessness of standing out in the open shows how stupid you really are.” It was Tom. 

He removed his hand from your math and wiped it on his trousers.

“Apologies, I wasn’t expecting you to poof right in front of me. How’d you do that anyway, I didn’t hear you walk up to me.” It was more of a rhetorical question, but Tom took the time to answer it anyway.

“You can do many things if you're clever enough. For a Ravenclaw, you’re rather daft, aren’t you.” He followed you as you walked out of the dungeon and onto the main floor of the castle.

“For a Slytherin, you’re really annoying, you know that Riddle?” 

Your ears perked up as you heard another set of footsteps coming from down the hall. You ushered Riddle into a nearby room and closed the door behind you.

“Nice going, are we going to spend the whole night in a broom closet?” You could hear the annoyance in his voice, at this point it might as well be his normal tone of voice.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Riddle,” you took out your wand and pointed it in front of you, “Lumos.” 

You then started to rummage through some supplies in the closet.

“What are you doing now?” Tom asks.

“I’ve gotten stuck here before when I was running away from my house's head boy. He chased me down the halls because lost a few house points.” 

“How did you lose house points?”

“I may have accidentally jinxed someone.”

Tom found your playful tone amusing, he continued to ask you more questions about your experience.

“How do you accidentally jinx someone? And why?”

“Long story short, a girl from Gryffindor was gossiping about me, I overheard and put an Oppugno jinx on her, and she went and told the head of Gryffindor on me, and then 50 house points were taken from Ravenclaw, and the head boy was furious.”

“Oppugno? That seems a bit advanced for you, l/n.”

You turned from shuffling the supplies and smiled in Riddle's face, “You can do many things if you’re clever enough.”

After shuffling some more, you found a small door that was hidden behind a curtain in the corner.

“If we go through this door, it’ll lead to a trap door above this floor, then we can take the nearby corridor to the Astronomy tower.” Opening the door, you crouched down and started to crawl into the door, Riddle reluctantly followed you.

After crawling for a few minutes, you were able to stand in a small space, it was lined with stones and a few of them stuck out of the wall to act as a leverage for climbing.

Riddle had appeared next to you, waiting for the next move.

You started to climb the wall until you got to the top, and pushed the trap door open, climbing out of the small space.

“Hurry and climb up, I don’t know how long these halls will be empty for.” You reached out your hand for Tom to grab as he climbed up, but he turned away from it and pushed himself out of the door.

“Where to now?” he asks as he closes the trap door.

“If we go left, the nearby hallway should lead to the Astronomy tower,” you take a second to look at Tom before asking, “Want to run for it?”

He looks at you as if you just asked him to commit murder.

“Run? Why would we run?”

“Just in case a prefect is nearby.”

“If we run, we’d be more likely to get caught. The perfect would hear the noise.”

“You’re such a wet towel, Riddle.” You say, walking away from him and heading to another hallway.

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You entered the Astronomy tower by using an unlocking spell on the door. The telescopes were still there, along with the desks and stools.

Sitting down, you adjusted your telescope and looked to the place where you had seen the nebula.

“It’s still here.” you gushed.

“Did you expect it to run away?” Tom took a seat next to you.

You took the book you had gotten from the library out of the small bag that was slung over your shoulder, flipping the pages until the passage about the nebula was visible to you again.

“What do you think the rest of the paragraph was supposed to say?” you ask him.

“How am I supposed to know? I never took interest in this in the first place?” He pushes the book away from him and turns to his telescope.

“You’re such a negative Nancy you know that?”

“First I’m a goody two shoes, then a wet towel, and now I’m a negative Nancy, is there anything else you want to call me?”

“Tempered Tommy seems like it might fight you.”

Tom sent a glare your way that caused you to laugh. His serious eyes just never managed to fit in with the rest of his features, they were too innocent looking to be threatening.

Time passed as the both of you looked into your telescopes, talking about what could fit the rest of the prophecy, and writing down anything that made sense.

A few laughs were passed between the two of you here and there, but things got a bit dull after a while.

You were laying down on your back, staring at the stars. The noise of Tom scribbling stuff down on a notebook you had given him made a question pop up into your head.

“Why were you in the restricted section?” you asked, trying to break the ongoing silence that had been going on between you two.

“Why should I tell you?”

“I’m just curious. What could interest you in the restricted section that you can’t find in the open sections of the library.”

Tom stopped writing, putting the quill down. He didn’t talk or look at you, but he was debating on whether he should tell you.

“My family.”

“Your family?”

Tom nodded his head. You sat up from your position on the floor and looked at him.

“What about your family? Why would they be in the restricted section?”

Tom still didn’t turn around to look at you, which made his response that much detached.

“I was born and raised in an orphanage. I have no real family, and even if I do, I doubt they’d want me. Since I could do magic, I figured at least one of my parents could do magic. I thought it had been my father, so I looked up his name using the records, but found nothing. Then I looked up my middle name, ‘Marvolo’, and found my mother's family. The Gaunt's.”

You shifted your position, so you were sitting closer to him. He never seemed like the type to open up to just any person, what made you so special. He could have just told you ‘no’, to your question.

“My mother, I didn’t believe she could be the magic one. She died while she gave birth to me, if she was a witch, if she had magic, she couldn’t have died, she couldn’t, could she?”

Tom sounded like he was asking you that question, like he wanted reassurance. Reassurance from the fact that his mom was the magic one, and she had died.

“There could have been other reasons that your mother died.” You weren’t sure if he wanted an answer, but not saying something made it feel so much more awkward. 

“What could have caused it?” his face turned to yours, his eyes weren’t the same as the ones he used to glare at you, they looked vulnerable. “There are things about my family that just don’t make sense, I found out things that I didn’t want to find out. I found things…”

You patiently waited for him to finish what he was going to say, he looked like he was struggling to form another sentence. 

Before he could speak, you heard a voice coming from beyond the tower door.

“Is someone up there?” the voice asked.

Looking at the door, then quickly at tom, you whispered with fear, “A prefect.”

You grabbed the book that was on the floor next to you and stood up. Tom pointed to the back of the tower and whispered that the both of you should hide behind it. You stumbled with your feet, running to the back of the tower. The both of you managed to hide before the prefect opened the door. The darkness of the tower managed to keep the both of you covered from the perfect view, who only looked around the tower for a few seconds before leaving through the door.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, thanking Merlin that the both of you were able to stay hidden.

You turned to Tom, who was as still as a statue, not moving even after you started to.

“C'mon scaredy-cat, the prefect is gone, but let's go before he decides to come back for a follow-up search.” You placed the book and notebook back into your bag, moving completely out of the shaded area.

Looking back at Tom, he was still standing in the shadows, and it was creeping you out.

“Stop standing in the dark like a lunatic, let’s go before the prefect comes back.” you grabbed his wrist once more and moved him out of the shadows, heading towards the tower door.

Hopefully the both of you could make it back to your dorm rooms with no problems.

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Another week had passed since that night at the Astronomy tower. Not wanting to risk getting caught, you decided to wait before you could return to the tower again.

You had devised another plan and told Tom that you would meet him at the Astronomy tower that Friday night, same as the last time.

However, you couldn’t come and get him like the last time. There was a Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin earlier that day. Since Gryffindor lost the match, Slytherin was expecting petty pranks. Prefects would be patrolling the dungeons at all times.

‘Why should I run off alone? If the prefects are going to be patrolling all night, then I would be caught easily.’ Tom asked you as the both of you were walking down the hall together.

‘Because, even if you are caught you’re a Slytherin, they’ll probably just tell you to go back to your dorm. If you manage to evade them, then you can meet me at the tower.’

‘What about you? You’ll be on the tower alone.’

“What's that now, Riddle? Are you worried about me?’

Tom stopped walking, and so did you.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I’ll meet you at the tower tonight, see you later.’

That conversation took place hours ago, it was around 30 minutes before you had to leave for the Astronomy tower.

Pretending to be asleep, you were tucked under your blanket. Keeping an eye out for your friends, who seemed to be fast asleep.

That croaking frog finally managed to quiet up during the nights, which allowed you to sleep carefully for the past few days.

With 15 minutes to spare, you slipped out of your dorm and sneakily exited the Ravenclaw common room.

There were prefects all around the halls that night, more than usual. It was expected, so you took the necessary precaution to head to the Astronomy tower.

Using an opening charm, you entered the tower with ease.

Tom wasn’t there, which was expected. Why would he lock the door if he knew you were coming?

You had waited in your seat and kept yourself occupied by looking through the telescope. The nebula was still shining brightly.

How weird was it that you and Tom were the ones to see the nebula, out of everyone that was looking into the sky that night.

Waiting had felt like a chore. Usually Tom was very punctual with his time, seemed to be the first in every class, first everywhere, actually.

Perhaps he was caught by a prefect and was sent back to his dorm?

‘I hope not, it’s no fun being up here alone.’ you let go of your telescope and just stared into the sky. Being entrapped in your thoughts and fantasies, you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

“You’re truly insufferable, you know that?” 

Startled, you looked behind you and saw Tom. He was breathing hard, his hair a bit messy, and face a bit flushed.

“Riddle! What took you so long, and why do you look like you ran here?” your eyes followed him as he sat on his seat next to you.

“I don't know, maybe because I did run. A prefect caught sight of me leaving the dungeons, I sprinted all the way here. I hated it.” 

“You sprinted away, just to have the chance to meet with me?” you touched your chest, you were being sarcastic, and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself. If it weren’t for you blackmailing me, I would have left a while ago.”

Riddle looked into his telescope and ignored all the dramatics you were doing.

“You know, I have a story that goes well with us looking at the nebula.” Your dramatics were over and done with, but you still wanted to talk to him.

“What story would that be?” Tom still sounded uninterested, but he knew you wouldn’t stop bothering him if he didn’t answer.

“The story about the King of Hearts.”

Tom looked at you with one of his brows raised, “There’s a story about a card figure?”

“There’s a story behind everything, Riddle.” You moved your seat closer to him, which made him scoot backwards.

Ignoring his weirded expression, you continued with your story.

“My mom used to tell me stories about how each figure on the deck of cards represented a European monarch. I took interest in the king of hearts, mainly because the story of his card is weird.”

“Hm, alright then. Indulge me.” Tom, who seemed a little interested, turned his attention away from his telescope and focused it on you.

“The king of hearts was represented by a king named ‘Charlemagne’, who ruled over France. He was a good king and ruler overall. The part that interested me about the King of Hearts was that he was nicknamed ‘the suicide king’.”

“I didn’t know you were into stuff like that.”

“I’m not into it, I just found it interesting that he was called that.”

Tom rolled his eyes and told you to continue with your story before he stopped taking interest.

“He’s called the suicide king because in the picture, he is seen stabbing himself in the head. Apparently it was a printing mistake of some sort, but that’s not what I’ve been told.”

“What were you told?”

“I was told that it was someone else that was stabbing him.”

“Why would you stab a king?”

“You know how sometimes kings turn into tyrants, instead of guiding their followers they control them with fear. Someone needs to stop them. I was told that kings are usually killed by the person they trust most. Maybe someone in the king of hearts court, you know.” you made a stabbing motion with your hands, making Riddle laugh.

“I doubt someone as powerful as a king would let someone lower than them have the opportunity to kill him.”

“You never know, when you really trust someone, you wouldn’t think they’d do anything bad to you.”

Riddle stopped smiling, his lips forming into a straight line.

“Would you do that? Kill the person you’re closest with?” he asks.

“Under what circumstance? I wouldn’t kill someone randomly, or at all for that matter.”

“If they turned into a tyrant, and were hurting people. Would you do it, if you had the chance to?”

“If they were out hurting people, killing people. Doing immoral things...if I had the chance, I guess I would.”

The both of you just stared at each other after you gave your response. The silence, ironically, was loud, you didn’t know how you should continue the conversation.

“It’s getting late, I think we should get back before the prefects check here,” Tom stood up from his seat and headed towards the door, “Goodnight.” He says before he exits through the door.

You sat there, confused. He left out of the blue, with a lame excuse for that matter. Did the story bore him? Make him uncomfortable? Who knows. It’s so hard to read him sometimes, he’s like a different type of human being.

Picking up your bag, you opened the tower door and walked down the stairs.

Tom wasn’t anywhere to be found. That was weird, you had left mere moments after he did, how was he able to get back to his common room so quickly?

Heading back to your dorm room as quietly as you could, you shut the door gently behind you and step towards your bed. Before you could make another movement, the lights flashed on and there stood your friends, who all had curious looks on their faces.

“Where have you been, young lady?” asks Melissa.

You stood still, unsure of what to do or say. How could you explain to them what was going on without having them misunderstand?

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Bonus: I found this gif of the heart nebula, and it fit so I thought I’d just put it in here for fun (っ＾▿＾)۶🍸🌟🍺٩(˘◡˘ )

credit to the gif owner ^^

[favefandomimagines]

Train Wreck (d.m.)

Summary: Draco didn’t think he’d find something worth living for until he met you.

AN: this takes place during sixth year, draco has a the dark mark and it takes place during the war, it’s a bit all over the place but oh well also there’s a little bit of fred and the reader in here!

warnings: suicidal thoughts, death

His sixth year wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to have a normal year with his friends and with you. But his father, and his whole family, had other plans for him.

Draco had to cancel your summer trip to Paris so he could get the dark mark branded on to his forearm. He told you it was because he had an aunt who was deathly ill and he had to visit her.

When you both got back to school, he was cold and distant towards you. Of course he blamed it on being stressed about school and his exams. But you knew him better than that.

You’ve been together since fourth year and you could read him like an open book.

One night he stood atop of the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts. He was given strict orders from the Dark Lord to kill his headmaster at one of his favorite spots. Your favorite spot.

As he looked at the grounds he thought of you. What would you say when you found out he was a Death Eater? Would you hate him? Break up with him? Would you have pity for him? Try to save him?

It was then he realized he was past the point of saving.

‘If I just jump, Dumbledore won’t die.’ He thought. He thought that would ruin Voldemort’s plan and everyone would be okay. The people he envied, Harry, Ron and Hermione, would have a fighting chance.

Once again, his mind went back to you. If he were to give up and do what he was thinking, what would become of you? Would you mourn for him? Miss him? Would you move on with someone who actually deserved you?

Draco had always thought it was matter of time before you left him for Fred Weasley. You were best friends after all and were practically attached at the hip. So he thought if he just jumped, that would give you the chance to be with a person who was better for you than he was.

But he couldn’t leave you alone with the feeling it was your fault if he did it. Because Draco knew that’s what you would think. You’d second guess yourself and think it was your fault. But nothing could ever be your fault.

Draco was knocked out of his worrisome thoughts by the sound of your voice. A voice that could make him feel like everything was okay.

“I thought I’d find you up here. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You spoke, a smile on your face. Draco gave you a halfhearted version of a smile and you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on, Draco?” You asked. “You’ve been acting strange since term started. You don’t eat, you barley sleep and you don’t talk to me like you used to. Did I do something?” You added.

“No, no, love. It’s not you. It could never be you. You’re the only thing that feels right in my life. I have a lot going on.” He quickly said, walking towards you and taking your hands in his.

It was then, when his sleeve pulled up a bit, you caught a glimpse of a black line on his forearm. He saw your face fall, void of any kind of expression. He followed your gaze and saw what you were looking at.

Draco quickly let go of your hands and tugged his sleeve down. “Let me see it.” You spoke quietly. “Y/N,” He started. “Let me see it.” Your voice more stern.

He paused for a moment before rolling up his sleeve. You saw the dark mark on your boyfriend’s arm and felt the wind get knocked out of you.

You faltered a bit, becoming a bit light headed at the thought of the person you loved most being a Death Eater. Draco reached out and steadied you and then your eyes met his.

You didn’t seem angry or disgusted. You looked sad for him and he could see in your eyes that you looked scared. Scared of him or for him was unknown.

“When you said you couldn’t come to Paris, you were getting-“ You started, cutting yourself off. “Y/N, you have to believe me. I had no choice. He said he’d kill my family and he’d kill you if I didn’t join him. I-I didn’t want to.” Draco said.

“That’s why you’ve been distant. You think you have to break up with me to protect me. So you were hoping I’d get the hint and break up with you. So I wouldn’t think I did something wrong.” You said, coming to the conclusion all on your own.

And how right you were. He wasn’t surprised. He knew you’d figure it out. You were a prestigious Ravenclaw after all. Top of your year along with Hermione. Only thing that made it acceptable for him to be with you. You were a pure blood witch in a good house that wasn’t Gryffindor. His parents were thrilled for that reason alone. But he kept your friendship with the Weasleys a secret.

“You know I’m not going to let you push me away.” You added. “Y/N, this is dangerous. He’s threatened to kill you twice before. And he doesn’t make empty threats.” Draco rebutted.

“So this is it? This is how our story is going to end?” You asked quietly. “Maybe, when this is all over, we can start again.” He answered.

You looked at him, a single tear rolling down your face. “Just remember that I love you, Draco Malfoy. I always have.” You whispered.

You placed a small, soft kiss on his cheek before leaving him up there alone.

And that was the last time you saw him. The next night, Professor Dumbledore was killed by Death Eaters that had some how made their way into Hogwarts and Draco disappeared after that.

And so did you and your friends. You weren’t involved in anyway but if your three best friends were running to stay safe then you’d do anything to protect them. One reason why the sorting hat took the longest its ever had when sorting you. You had the makings of both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw.

Before you knew it, Hogwarts was in shambles. The war in full swing, the students of Hogwarts getting roped in and having to fight or be killed.

It wasn’t easy for you to say the least. When you were trying to kill Death Eaters and keep them away from your friends, you were also searching for the familiar head of platinum blonde hair. 

You were running through the halls of Hogwarts when you were cornered by two Death Eaters. It was in that moment you were very happy that you had taken part in Dumbledore’s Army in your fifth year and actually learned something. 

You shot a defensive spell at them, sending them both into a stone pillar and you had a chance to catch your breath. 

“Y/N?” A voice questioned behind you. You whipped your head around and saw Draco standing there, looking broken as ever. “Draco,” you breathed out before he practically ran to you and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He asked you. “Yes, I’m okay. Are you?” You asked, letting go to look at him. Draco shook his head, looking as if he were about to cry. “I don’t want to die. Not yet. I promised you I’d come back to you and I don’t want to break that promise.” He said quietly. 

You placed a comforting hand on his cheek. “This is no place to die. Not here.” You whispered. You grabbed his hand in yours and took off down the hallway. Though you were both stopped short when you heard Voldemort bellow, ‘Harry Potter is dead.��� 

You froze in your spot as you saw the body of your friend lying on the ground. Ginny was fighting against her father to get to the boy she loved. You felt Draco squeeze your hand until a command made his blood run cold. 

Voldemort was asking Draco to join him and you closed your eyes preparing for the worst. “Draco,” Lucius added. You knew he’d go to him. In fear for the lives of his family and for his own. You let go of his hand, as an almost silent way of saying ‘it’s okay.’ 

He looked down at you, your gaze not meeting his. Draco swallowed thickly as he felt the eyes of every person looking at him, as he walked to join his parents. It was clear to everyone watching the scene that Draco Malfoy was still at the beck and call of his father. All out of fear for his life.

Of course you were disappointed. You were hoping he’d stand up for himself against his father but he wouldn’t put you in danger like that. As it seemed hopeless to put up a fight any longer, Harry sprung up from the ground. Eyes widened and gasps were heard from around the courtyard.

Draco then looked at you and then down to his wand. “Potter!” Draco yelled, tossing the boy his wand. The blonde came running to your side, taking your hand tightly in his.

“We’re getting out of here.” He said attempting to pull you away. “I can’t just leave them. We have to fight.” You rebutted. “Nothing is stopping anyone from killing me. I can’t stay here, Y/N.” He said. 

You looked up at him before looking back down to your intertwined hands. You make eye contact with Narcissa Malfoy, giving her a small nod before letting go of Draco’s hand. 

“Promise me you’ll find me. When this all over.” You said. “I promise.” He said. You leaned up and placed a deep kiss against his lips before running off, leaving him there alone.

“Y/N!” He called after. “Draco, honey, we need to go.” Narcissa told her son. “Mum, I can’t leave her.” Draco rebutted. “You can’t keep that promise to her if you’re dead, Draco.” Narcissa said, pulling her son towards the bridge. 

It was quicker than you thought it would be. A war. Voldemort was dead and now all that as left was the carnage he left behind. Fred was gone. You had walked into the Great Hall seeing the Weasleys crowd around something. Or someone. The sight had made you physically ill as George clung to you like a lifeline.

It was then the only person you had left was George and vice versa. It was funny in a way. Just how quickly your good luck had run out. Your parents and Molly always joked that you and Fred would end up together but the two of you denied it every time. He was your best friend and nothing more. And he felt the same way. At least he made it seem that way.

You were sitting on the ruins of the bridge that led to Hogwarts, your feet dangling over the edge. Your best friend was dead. Half of your year was dead. Draco was gone. You didn’t know what happened to your parents. They were apart of the Order and you wouldn’t be surprised if Death Eaters had gotten to them. 

“Y/N?” Hermione’s voice asked. You looked up and saw your friend walking towards you with Ron by her side. They sat on opposite sides of you before Hermione spoke. “You’re thinking about him aren’t you?” She asked. 

You nodded your head silently before she took your hand in hers. “I know I shouldn’t. But he didn’t want to be one of them. A-And I know I shouldn’t apologize for anything he did but,” You started. “It’s okay. You love him.” Ron said. 

You rested your head on Hermione’s shoulder as you overlooked the grounds. “I’m probably never going to see him again, aren’t I?” You questioned. “You might.” She answered. 

Draco didn’t know what to do. Every day the guilt of his actions consumed him. Of course he didn’t take a life. Especially the lives of some of his classmates. He wasn’t able to do that to people he’d known since he was 11. But he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that night. He was responsible for Dumbledore’s death. And that alone was eating him alive.

Also because of you. You were his number one thought every day since he left you at Hogwarts. On the days it got particularly rough, he saw your face, heard your voice and it forced him to keep going. Draco made you a promise that he’d find you and he was hell bent on keeping that promise.

And once again, Hermione was correct. You were helping George get the shop back up and running. It was hard for the both of you at first. Everything reminded you of Fred and of everything you’ve lost. But doing it together made it seem bearable. You also knew Fred wouldn’t let you and George give up that easily.

You were rearranging some small potion vials when the bell above the door rang, signaling that someone entered.

“How may I help you?” George asked the customer. “I was hoping to talk with Y/N.” The customer answered. Your head snapped in that direction and you saw Draco standing in front of George. 

You didn’t think you’d see Draco again after he left with his mother. George nudged you towards your estranged lover and left the two of you alone, going to the office to give you some space. 

“I promised I’d find you.” He said, breaking the silence. “Y-You did.” You stammered. He made the first move, moving to get closer to you. You were the one who closed the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re the only thing that kept me going.” He whispered into your ear. 

“I love you. So much.” You cried into his shoulder. “I love you too.” He whispered. The two of you stayed that way for what felt like an eternity to you, but only a few minutes. “I’m sorry about, Fred.” He added quietly. He felt your body tense as you held on to him tighter.

Draco was the first to let go when he realized he had never actually stepped foot in the Weasley’s joke shop until then.

You saw the curious expression on his face as he took in the surroundings. “Would you like me to show you around?” You asked with a small smile.

Draco looked down at you and nodded his head as your hand slipped into his. You dragged him all around the store that you were oh so proud of, opening him up to a world of happiness and laughter he had never known before. Not until he met you.

As you showed him all the various pranks and jokes, George watched with a happy but bittersweet smile on his face. He looked down at the picture of him, Fred and yourself before he looked back to you and Draco.

“Don’t worry, Freddie. She’ll be okay.”

requested by: @irishbish

[ravenclaw-ftw]

February Formal

Prompt: None

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!Reader

Word Count: 2,876

Warnings: Bad writing

Synopsis: You were both left without a date to the February Formal. With you being the quiet Ravenclaw who has been focusing on her studies, and him being the stuck up one that no one wanted to spend the night with, what will they do?

ONESHOT:

You were sitting in the library late Saturday, getting ahead on some studying for your O.W.L.S. coming up. The library was quieter than usual. Yes, it was a weekend, but there were usually some people, like yourself, still working hard to prepare for the weeks ahead. Looking up from your textbook, you observed the very few others around you, and noticed the subtly red and pink flowers around the library. Usually the library is adorned with flags of the different houses and some lanterns to light the area. Turning around you see some pink sashes covering the vaulted ceiling of the library. The girls around you are wearing more makeup and perfume than usual, you could smell it. Acting a little more flirtatious with their study group.

You had completely forgot.

Tomorrow was Valentine’s day, or better known around Hogwarts as the February Formal. Everybody who is anybody attends that ball. You knew it was coming up, but you had been so occupied with your studies that it had slipped your mind.

You hadn’t been asked to go with anyone either, so that had a helping hand in you forgetting about the formal.

You gather your things and begin the long walk to your dorm. You noticed the decorations around the corridors as well, just reminding you of what awaits tomorrow.

The last few years you have gone with groups of friends. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to do that, lots of people did. You’ve been wanting to get asked, to go with anyone really. But you did have your eyes on one Slytherin since Year 2.

The blonde headed Draco Malfoy.

Your friends have teased you before about your little crush on him, but it’s not like you could help it. Under all his attitude you knew there was some good to him. Behind that ice-cold stare, there was a soft center. You think back to that first day you really interacted with him in Year 2.

Rushing down the halls to your charms class so you weren’t late, you had tripped, and dropped your books and they scattered across the corridor. Draco, also on the verge of being late to charms, saw what had happened. He didn’t hesitate to help you though. He leaned down, picking up papers and charm books with you. He looked up and said, “Charms class eh? That’s where I’m heading,” handing you your books.

You both stood and began walking to your class. “Thank you, Draco, you didn’t have to help, now we’re both going to be late,” you thanked him. “That’s alright, I wasn’t going to make it anyways. But how do you know me? Have we met before?” he asked quizzically. “Well, no, but doesn’t everyone know you? You’re probably the most infamous Slytherin, other than your father,” you explained. “I guess you’re right, I never got your name,” he said as you stood outside of the Charms classroom, most likely late, as the door was already shut. “Y/N, my name is Y/N,” you answered. “Y/N, pretty name for a pretty Ravenclaw. Just about the most normal Ravenclaw I’ve met,” he said. You blushed and looked down, “Thanks for the, compliment?” you questioned. “It is, Ravenclaws are odd sometimes,” he chuckled.

It was a simple interaction, he even gave you a compliment, as much as a compliment Draco could give. You remember it fondly as you walked into your common room, seeing your friends lounging in the few chairs scattered around the common room.

“Y/N! You’re back, now you can help me pick out a gown for tomorrow!” Luna had yelled. “You’re telling me you haven’t had this picked out for months?” you laughed back. “Well, you know how indecisive I can be,” she said as she got up. The both of you walked down to your dorm, and to Luna’s wardrobe. She pulled out the options of gowns and laid them out on her bed.

“Which do you think I should go with, the Persian blue? Or the Egyptian blue? Oh! Or this sapphire blue!” she asked you as she felt the material of each dress. “You’re telling me those are supposed to be different colors?” you laughed at her. “Well, yes of course. Ugh, I don’t know which to wear, what color dress are you wearing?” she asked. “Honestly, I forgot the formal was tomorrow, I don’t have a dress to wear,” you explained as you walked over toward the window seat. “Y/N, how could you have forgotten? It’s all the whole school has been talking about the past week. Would you like to borrow one of my gowns?” she looked away from the dresses and toward you.

“Luna, I don’t even know if I want to go this year. I love going with you guys but..” you looked out the window, wishing to see a messenger owl with a note from Draco, asking you to the ball. “Oh, I have a date. I wouldn’t be able to go with you,” Luna said simply. You spun around, “What?! And you didn’t tell me? Who is it!” you jumped out of your seat and onto her bed, chin in your hands looking up at Luna.

“Harry Potter, I thought I told you this,” she said. “Oh girl, I would’ve remembered if you did, that’s so exciting! Do you know what he is wearing? You guys should match!” you rambled excitedly. Luna giggled, “I think just simple black dress robes, hopefully the Weasley’s don’t make him wear some of their homemade dress robes.”

“Well I definitely think you should go with the sapphire blue, it compliments your hair very well,” you explained. She nodded and tried on the dress, the sleeves drooped around her shoulders and framed her collarbones. The velvet material cascaded down her body in a mermaid shape.

“That’s the one,” you confirmed. “Okay, now your turn,” she turned toward you. “Luna, I said I don’t know if I want to go,” you explained. “What? Just because no one asked you doesn’t mean you don’t have to go! And you can’t wait around forever for Draco to get the courage to ask you,” she teased, “What you should do, is go to the ball, looking so beautiful, that he won’t be able to resist you.”

“Does he even have a date for the formal? I’m not trying to be a homewrecker,” you asked. “Y/N, no offense, but girls are really intimidated by him, I don’t think he has a date. But for some reason you’re brave enough to be friendly with him,” she explained.

“You know what, you’re right. I will go, who needs a date anyways?” you said, “do you have any other dresses that would fit me?”

“Oh yes! Of course!” she started rifling through her wardrobe. You saw a peak of a light blue sleeve tucked in the back. “Wait, Luna, what’s that one in the back there?” you asked. She pulled out the dress. A cascade of light cornflower blue tulle rolled onto the floor. “Wow, where did you get that one?” you asked Luna. “My aunt made it for me for a wedding we had to attend, try it on!” she exclaimed. You discarded your Ravenclaw robes in exchange for the gown. As soon as it was laced up in the back you turned toward the mirror. You touched the material as if it was gold.

“Wow, Y/N, now you HAVE to go to the ball, Draco will be drooling all over you!” she said.

“It’ll be an interesting night now,” you hoped.

___________________________________________________________

The next day, the day of the formal, everyone was excitedly getting ready. You and Luna helped each other with hair and makeup. She went with a simple natural makeup look, while you went for simple with a bold lip. Her silvery hair was in a braided bun, while yours was in a half up, half down look with the ends curled.

Harry came to the Ravenclaw common room to pick up Luna like a gentleman. You were excited for her as they looked good together. “Y/N, would you like to join us and walk down to the ball together?” Harry has sweetly offered. “Thank you, Harry, but you two go on and enjoy yourselves, I want to go on my own,” you explained. “Have fun, don’t wait on him to come up to you, be brave,” Luna encouraged you as they left. You nodded as you sat down on a chair, watching them leave.

You tried to hype yourself up to go down to the ballroom with everyone else. All you wanted tonight was the chance to approach Draco. Possibly to get the chance to talk with him, spend some of the night with him. Maybe even get a dance with your long-time crush.

With that, you stood up, leaving the common room. Luna was right, you are brave enough to go alone. As you walked through the corridors to the ballroom, you saw your favorite Slytherin outside of the ballroom. He was seemingly alone, leaning against the stone wall of the castle.

You stopped in your tracks, not expecting to see him so soon. You were taken aback by how good he looked. He wore all white dress robes, coincidentally matching very well with your gown. His blonde hair slicked back, and his eyes looking down. You gathered yourself and approached him, without a plan really.

As your heels clacked against the cold stone floor, he heard, and looked up at you, eyes wide.

“Hello, Draco,” you smiled.

“Y/N, wow, you look stunning,” he complimented, a full compliment this time.

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself,” you said back.

It looked like he blushed, you made Draco blush. That gave the little bit of confidence you needed for tonight.

“Why aren’t you in there with everyone? Why are you out here?” you asked him timidly.

“Well, I didn’t want to show up without a date. Crabbe and Goyle both asked some Hufflepuffs to go with them to the ball,” he looked away, almost sad.

“Did you not ask anyone to go with you? I doubt anyone would turn you down if you asked,” you questioned. You wanted to know the reason why he was alone. Did he get rejected? Was he too nervous to ask someone?

“I- I don’t know. I had someone in mind I wanted to ask, but they probably wouldn’t want to go with an arse like me,” he explained.

“I highly doubt that,” you looked down kicking your feet, slightly disappointed. That someone probably wasn’t you, because you would’ve agreed to have gone with him in a heartbeat.

“Would you want to walk in there with me? You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to,” Draco asked, finally looking at you. He noticed how beautifully done your hair was, and the way your dress hung around your body, you looked like an angel. He had wanted to ask you earlier, but he didn’t think you would want to go with him. He’s asking now because, you didn’t show up with a date, and no one had come up to you yet.

“I would love to,” you smiled. He returned your smile and held out his hand, like a gentleman. You took it as you both finally walked into the ball.

The room was decorated beautifully, white and pink sashes hung above your heads and there were flowers adorning the tables. Loud muggle music bounced off the walls, it was hard to hear Draco ask you, “Do you want to sit? I can grab us some pumpkin juice,” he offered.

“I’ll grab a table,” you answered. He split off from you to grab the drinks. You looked around and saw Luna enjoying her time with Harry, she spotted you, said something to Harry, and ran up.

“Draco asked you?!” she yelled over the music. You laughed, “Kind of, we were both without dates, he’s grabbing us drinks right now, we’ll see what happens,” you answered. “Well, with you in that dress, you got the power to make him do whatever you want,” she winked as she walked back over to Harry.

Draco came back with the drinks and sat down. You smiled at him as he handed you the cup. Slowly sipping you looked around the ballroom, this is closer than you thought you’d be with him tonight. You were ecstatic. You could fall over on your arse and it wouldn’t even care you were so happy.

“Did anyone ask you to the ball tonight?” Draco asked hesitantly. “No, actually, the past 6 years of being at this place no one has asked me. I’ve always came here with friends. I only didn’t do that tonight because everyone else got a date,” you answered and looked down. “Are you kidding?” he looked baffled. “What?” you asked, nervous that he would make fun of you or something.

“I just-“ he was cut off by the DJ saying there would be a slow song playing next.

“Would you like a dance with me?” he stood and held out his hand. You nodded and took his hand, still curious about what he was going to say, but you followed him to the dance floor anyways.

He placed your hand on his shoulder and took your waist. You looked up at him and blushed. This has made your night, it could not get better than this.

After swaying to the music for some time, your head on his shoulder, you looked up and asked, “Why were you so surprised earlier when I said I’ve never been asked to a ball before?”

He looked down to you, noticing the height difference and smiling, “Well, I’m just surprised no one would ask someone as beautiful as you to the ball.”

With your newfound bravery, you asked, “Well, in that case, why haven’t you ever asked me?”

“I thought guys would be begging to go with you, that’s why I never bothered asking. Why would you say yes to me anyways?” he questioned.

“Well that’s a silly question now isn’t it? I’m here with you,” as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, still swaying to the music. “Admittedly I’ve been waiting years for you to ask me,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“If I had known that I would’ve asked you the second I laid eyes on you during first year,” he lifted your chin up to look at him, “But I was such a child then, I didn’t have the guts to ever say anything,” he said.

You giggled, “Technically you still didn’t we ended up here together because we both didn’t have the guts to say anything,” you teased.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now, it was like a dream come true.

“And what do you mean first year? We never even spoke back then?” you asked quizzically.

“Who wouldn’t notice a beauty like you from across the great hall? In the library? Bloody hell, I almost failed our Charms class together because I couldn’t stop looking at you,” he said matter of factly.

The slow music has long since stopped but both of you have been swaying in the middle of the dance floor while people danced wildly around you. But it felt like it was just you two in the whole ballroom. You smiled up at him, admiring his sparkling eyes in the dim light. He leaned down to press his lips to yours, in a tender, careful kiss, almost as to not scare you away. Pressing back, you leaned into his touch, wanting nothing more than this for the past few years.

The kiss was interrupted by a squeal near you, your broke the kiss to turn and see what or who, that was. You saw Luna and Harry dancing near you two, and Luna got overly excited seeing what just went down. Draco looked over and only saw Harry above the crowd.

“Potter… you won’t ruin this for me too,” he glared at him. “Draco don’t blame this on me, just go take your girl and enjoy the night, don’t ruin it for everyone,” he stated.

“He’s right, let’s go somewhere more private,” you tugged on his robes, drawing his attention away from his made up drama.

Draco grabbed your hand and pulled you out away from your friends and led you out of the ballroom. “What’s your favorite dessert?” he asked as he slowed down, turning toward you. “What?” you giggle. “I have the house elves wrapped around my finger, now what’s your favorite dessert so I can get it for you,” he answers simply. You ponder for a moment, before answering, “Bundt cake.”

“Very odd choice, but alright,” he answered.

The two of you enjoyed a small bundt cake in the courtyard that night, his jacket around your shoulders as it was a cool February night.

“Thank you for tonight Draco, it’s been a perfect night,” you looked up at him after finishing the cake.

He looked over to you, and smiled, “Thank you for being the perfect date,” as he leaned down to kiss you. A perfect ending to a perfect night, it all worked out as “planned”.

[loonylupinnn]

Becoming the Devil: Chapter 1 - Diagon Alley

Y/n Valentine, a woman who was just simply walking around Diagon Alley. The sun was high, throwing its rays down to earth where the many witches and wizards were trying to block. There weren't many clouds that day, which didn't help much. But it was still a beautiful day.

The streets were filled with the chatter that came from the people walking around. Few cries could be heard. Cries from children who didn't get things they wanted. The day was flowing smoothly. It was too good to be true...

"We still need to get some Phoenix tears" Maeve spoke to me, reading off the parchment our boss had given us as a last minute shopping. I groaned, "Those cost way too much" Maeve laughed, taking my hand in hers. Her soft fingers touched the back of my hand when our hands had intertwined. I swang our hands back-and-forth, creating a bit of wind to flow.

"Well she said it was for a V.I.P patient. And you know how she is." Maeve looked around the shops, taking us into 'Kaylah's'. It was such a simple name although the shop wasn't simple. It was lively and full of colors. Many potions, ingredients, tools, etc. The owner was Kaylah Dunn, a friend of ours. Our friendship was divided. You see, back in our Hogwarts years, the three of us were in different houses. Maeve was a Gryffindor, Kaylah was a Ravenclaw, and I was a Slytherin. Lucky for me, the two girls didn't judge me or hold a grudge towards me because of my house's stereotypes.

Many found it odd. I was a Syltherin hanging out with a Muggleborn and Gryffindor. Two things no one would expect coming from a Slytherin. A famous Pure-blood family. Except the tradition was broken when my father married my mother, a muggle. He was disowned, kicked out of the family. But karma caught up with my grandparents. They died a few months later after disowning him, making him the heir of the Valentine's name. He inherited many riches and the grand Manor.

"Hello girls" Kaylah smiled from the other side of the counter. "Kaylah!" I beamed. It's been quite a few weeks since we last seen her. "Whatcha lookin' for?" She asked, fixing her brunette hair into a low-ponytail. Her deep and velvety eyes looked at us, awaiting for an answer.

"Phoenix tears. V.I.P patient!" Maeve said. Kaylah nodded, before bringing us to the other side of the counter. Taking us into the back, to the storage, she took out a shabby, old box. She took the handle into her right hand, lifting it up, making the lid go up as well. Inside the box were five vials of Phoenix tears. These tears were rare. There weren't many, due to the lack of Phoenix's. Back in Hogwarts, it was rumored that our transfiguration professor, Dumbledore, had a Phoenix.

"How many?" She asked. "One will do," I said. She took one out, then closed the lid of the box. She handed it over to me, placing it onto my palm. "Now do be careful, ya' know how rare 'ey are" We nodded.

"Thank you, how much?" Maeve asked. "Oh! Ya' know you can always take it for free, just-" She placed her index finger against her lips. "Yes, yes, we know," I said, shaking my head. "Great!" She clapped her hands together, swiftly moving towards the back door. "Go on!" She shooed us out, "Got a business to run" We laughed and said our goodbyes.

We walked through a narrow alley which brought us back into Diagon Alley. No one stopped us, as usual. We went back into walking among the rest of the people there, blending in. There wasn't much to us. If you ever saw us, you'd just think;

'Two normal girls walking around'

Yes. We looked that basic. But we didn't care much, other people's opinions didn't matter. Just normal witches like any other you spotted.

"Mayb-" Maeve was cut off by a loud explosion. Our heads snapped towards the noise. We saw a group of people in black hoods and masks with snake-like eye slits that covered their faces. They used their wands to cast various spells all over the place. The normal chatter and laughs were turned into screams and cries.

Smoke started filling up the clear sky which came from the few buildings lit up with fire. "Y/n, lets leave" But before we could apparate away from all the chaos, Maeve was stunned. She was thrown. I let out a gasp, taking out my wand. I turned around to see one of the many cloaked persons about to kill a young witch.

I quickly ran over. "Stupefy!" I shouted, pointing my wand at the person. They flew back, hitting their head against a bricked wall. The little girl ran over to me, her body hugging my legs. She seemed about the age of 8 or 9. I calmed her down, wiping dry tears stains away from her pale-freckled face. Her ginger hair tied into two braids.

"Molly! Molly!" I heard a much older, female, voice call out. "Mummy!" She ran to the lady right before three of the cloaked persons started to circle around me.

"Expelliarmus!" One of them said, catching my wand in their gloved hands. My eyes widened. I didn't have any way to defend myself and I was yet to learn wandless magic. I only knew a bit, but it was useless.

They trapped me. One took me, holding me back as they apparated along with us in a black smoke. My breath hitched. Surprised by the sudden action.

We arrived in front of a dark manor. The grass was perfectly mowed, there was a trail which led up to the front door. The whole place gave off really dark vibes. Something about it was odd, yet I felt somewhat attracted to it.

The person who had me in their possession, harshly took me in. I tried running away a few times, but it was pointless. "Control yourself," They said. The voice ticked me off that it was male.

"Wh- What are you going to do?" I stammered. "Well you're going to meet the Dark Lord" I could practically hear their smirk on his face.

The Dark Lord. I have heard of him before. It was said that he was a rising dark wizard, in hope to eliminate all muggle and muggle-born witches and wizards. His crew has been growing through these past seven years. Everyone says that the most people in his group were Slytherins.

Shivers ran down my spine at the thought of it. We entered the gloomy-looking manor. Everything looked dark and dull. The stone walls radiate bad energy. There was something, more like someone, in this place that had an evil and negative aura.

They took me near a wooden door down the steps of the manor. One of them opened the door. In it was the same, stone wall. Nothing was held there except a chair, placed in the middle of the room. It was dark, with very little amount of light in it. The one cloaked person who was holding me, threw me onto the chair.

I sighed. My two arms were moved to the back of the cold, metallic, chair. My wrists were being tied up with a rope. I was stuck. Trapped.

Captured.

[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows -Ch. 2

Fred Weasley x OC

4,447 k

Ch. 2 / 10

Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!Fred, touching, grinding, cursing, begging, dirty talk, slight degradation

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

____________________________________

Fern woke the next morning to her roommate's frantic reminders about class. She groaned, peeling herself from the warm navy sheets, and joined Daisy, getting ready for the full day of arbitrary, seemingly endless classes.

It wasn't that she was bad at school as far as grades and accomplishments went, but rather, she felt like she'd never really caught her stride. Even now, in her last year of school, there was no rhythm. She was always running around like a chicken with its head cut off, finishing papers, apologizing to professors, and begging her peers for answers. Her brand of schoolwork had paid off, seeing as she'd got a majority of Outstanding grades on her O.W.L's and felt relatively prepared for the N.E.W.T exam in a few months. But now that she was nearing the end of her time in school, she wondered if it would've been less of an effort and time commitment to just do the work as assigned in a timely fashion.

It was noon before she had time to catch her breath and think of something other than school. Lunch was a welcome sight as she walked into the Great Hall but before she could enjoy the moment, she caught sight of her younger brother sitting alone, and her frustration and curiosity from last night were reignited.

"Nev," she announced, sitting down across from him.

"Fern," he muttered in a tempered tone.

She exhaled and rolled her eyes at his mood.

"I'm not cross at you," she noted, eyeing him the best she could from over the book he was buried in.

"That's good. You've no reason to be."

She stared down at the food between them. Every year the quiet, timid kid she'd had to bribe to try and make friends at school became more and more outgoing, outspoken, bold….more of a Gryffindor.

"You're not going to tell me about last night, are you?"

"I…I already have and it's your fault if you don't believe me."

"Bloody hell," she hissed under her breath. "Fine, I believe you, are you happy now?"

He brought his book down an inch and finally made eye contact. She knew he wasn't perceptive enough to realize she was lying, and still incredibly suspicious of him and his whereabouts but decided that it would be better to actually have some evidence before she started accusing him of anything.

"You do?"

"Yes, yes," she reassured him. "I'm sorry, I was just tired and annoyed that I had to do rounds."

"Oh," he mused, dropping his book fully. "Are you sleeping alright? I could give you some Valerian root to chew on before bed it's…usually…Fern?"

His voice tapered off but she wasn't even listening. Neville's right hand, splayed out on the cover of his book, was cracked with a deep vernacular wound, still pink from a recent infliction. She stared in horror at his bloodied hand and reached across the table to seize his wrist.

"Neville," she hissed, harshly.

He tried to pull away but she was faster and stronger.

"When did this happen?"

"It's…it's nothing. Only one detention," he stuttered, eyeing the rest of the table in embarrassment. "Just got unlucky s'all."

Her angrily pounding heartbeat drowned out the rest of the noise from the lunch rush. He was lying to her, again. Her mind raced with all the things that he could be doing out and about with the twins but seriously doubted that any of them would improve his chances at staying unharmed at the hands of Umbridge.

"I'll give you one chance to tell me who you were with."

Neville opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to think of a lie or an argument before finally pressing his lips into a reserved line.

"Fern, please, they're my friends," he pleaded. "I know you don't like them but—"

"Friends don't get friends into this kind of trouble, Nev!"

"They don't get me into anything…I'm as much a part of the trouble as they are," he insisted, shaking off her grip and standing up to leave.

"You can't expect me to just let you get hurt like this if Gran knew —"

"Don't…don't use that against me…like you always do," he whispered with a harsh glare. "I know what I'm doing."

She craned her neck to stare at him in disbelief, acutely aware of how tall he'd gotten.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," she pleaded, taking extra care to sound less accusatory, in the hopes that he would see her as less of a threat. "I'm only trying to help."

"No, you're not," he countered as harshly as he could, even though it was still relatively tame. "You hate that I am doing something without getting your permission first. I don't need help, Fern. Just leave it alone…please."

She squinted her eyes but remained silent, letting the not so timid boy trudge off without her ripping him to shreds.

In all her years of knowing him, he'd never dismissed her like this. He was a sweet, shy boy who put his family above everything else. There was no way that he would hold some prank or hi-jinx to such high regard…without some kind of influence. She glanced down at the Gryffindor table and caught sight of Harry Potter leaning down to whisper something to one of the twins, who in turn, leaned across the table to repeat it to Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown. She rolled her eyes at their obviousness. If Padma was involved, of course, her sister would be too. And if Harry was involved, then it was certainly no good at all.

The weather for the rest of the afternoon and evening mimicked her mood. The rain of late fall was neither refreshing nor relaxing. It smelled of winter, and brought with it, frozen winds and only a taste of what was to come in the winter months.

Fern pressed her forehead to one of the tall windows in the Ravenclaw common room and contemplated how much the near-freezing droplets would hurt her bare skin. It was coming down pretty hard so there was a good chance it'd leave her burning, but no doubt, she'd catch a nasty cold. She glanced away from the moonlit grounds down below and failed at taking interest in the abandoned book in her lap. Despite trying, she hadn't been able to tear her thoughts from the interaction with Neville from earlier in the day. He'd never really been a serious boy, even when they were little, but today, he'd been uncharacteristically stern. It'd been enough to make her at least consider that the right thing to do would be to accept his wishes and leave him alone but the image of his bloodied hand was making her sick to her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was in over his head. He had a habit of being blind to the obviousness of his circumstance and acting without plan or consideration of pros and cons. Some called it bravery, and his house prided themselves on being collectively blind, but she knew what it was - stupidity. She'd never understood the appreciation that others had for the first person willing to risk their neck despite the risk.

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the glass again. It was sharp, cold, and just enough to bring her sense to life for a few seconds. The minimal chatter around her in the darkened common room disappeared beneath the roaring storm outside. She wanted to go and stake out the seventh-floor hallway. Admittedly, it was overbearing, and would probably instigate more problems between her and Neville than answers but she couldn't fight off the feeling. Before she could find her common sense, her feet were moving towards the tower exit.

The castle thundered underneath the storm and drowned out her footsteps on the moving staircase. She held her breath as she entered the seventh floor and walked swiftly against the stone wall to stay hidden. For a touch more secrecy, and perhaps a flair for the dramatics, she extinguished the fireplace, and torches with a flick of her hand and waited in the shadows.

It was nearly half an hour later when she sunk to the floor and sat on the cold, dark floor and an hour after that when she nearly gave up.

There was no sign of anyone, until, she heard the faintest sound of a door closing somewhere behind the stone pillar to her right. She held her breath and listened to the lumbering steps as they came around the corner, again, from the direction of the astronomy towner. She smirked as the thunder reminded her that Astronomy was an impossible excuse tonight.

What happened next was the convergence of three terrible things at once.

She revealed herself from the shadows and came face to face with Fred Weasley, who looked surprised by her presence for a mere second before looking decidedly more put out by something over her head.

She turned to see what was more important than her obvious gotcha moment but her excitement turned to despair as a pink figure stood at the top of the steps. Umbridge waved her hand, igniting the hallway to reveal her standing a little too close to the troublesome twin. She knew how it looked before Umbridge even opened her mouth.

"Boys and girls are to be more than eight inches apart," she giggled. "Ms. Longbottom…Mr. Weasley, I am sure that you're aware of this rule."

She frantically glanced at Fred in hopes that he would tell the truth but he took a step closer and snaked his arm around her waist.

"Eight inches, professor," he cooed, pulling her tight. "How'd you know?"

Fern's eyes went wide at his obvious attempt to anger the already unhinged woman.

"No, professor," she hissed, pushing him off of her. "It isn't like that —"

The woman clicked her tongue and held up a hand to silence her.

"Detention for the both of you," she warned, oozing with pep.

She turned her head frantically to Fred again who was looking quite content with a wicked smile on his face.

"Professor, please," she pleaded, trying to make it sound like less of a beg.

"Enough," the woman shrieked. "Detention tomorrow evening. Now, off you go."

Without another word, the woman disappeared back down the stairs. She stared at the doorway in shock before wheeling around to confront Fred.

"Godric that woman…Ah well, what's another one, right, Longbottom?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Another one? I've never had a detention before, you prick. Let alone, one of Umbridge's."

"Oh, well it's not so bad," he assured her, bringing a hand out of his pocket. "There's a bit of scarring but it doesn't hurt for too long."

She looked down at his hand and let the air be sucked out of her lungs. It was the same writing as Nevilles.

"I'm not upset about the pain you imbecile, I'm upset because I have to go in the first place and it's your fault!"

He leaned against the pillar next to them and stared down at her with a curious look on his face.

"My fault?"

"Yes, your fault," she hissed. "Like always." Of course, he would deny it, she thought.

Her accusatory words seemed to have the smallest effect on him as he rolled his eyes and scoffed at her.

"How?"

"Who else's fault could it possibly be, Weasley?"

"Oh, marvelous question, here's a thought, and it is just a first draft theory so do be gentle, but yourself? You were out frolicking, just like me, and therefore, bound to get caught with or without me," he explained through gritted teeth.

She shook her head and gave him a look of disbelief. They might have gotten off if he hadn't felt the urge to be such a smart ass, how could he not see that?

"I was not frolicking," she huffed. "The only reason I'm even up here is that I have to make sure that you, don't corrupt my brother. Thusly, your fault."

"I'm corrupting your brother," he repeated in disbelief.

"Yes."

"This might shock you but he is perfectly capable of getting into trouble all on his own."

"Only because he's been hanging around the likes of you for far too long!"

He squinted his eyes at her and leaned forward. She wouldn't let him use his size to intimidate her so she stayed put and furrowed her brow back.

"The likes of me? What is wrong with you?"

"You think there's something wrong with me?"

Fred scoffed and tipped his head back, closing his eyes in the process. "I think there are a whole lot of things wrong with you, love."

"Don't fucking call me that. I'm not one of your dumb fucking groupies, waiting patiently to be reduced to a pet name for your pleasure," she hissed, plunging a finger into his muscular chest. "Refer to me by my fucking name or don't refer to me at all, asshole."

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, returning the look of anger to his face. "Alright, I'm terribly sorry. Let me rephrase that. I think there are too many things wrong with you to count, let alone fix, Fern."

"That's big talk for a self-absorbed sociopath with pyromaniac tendencies and a severe maturity deficit!"

He looked caught off guard and brought his face down close to hers again. She stared back defiantly and let him search her eyes.

"Wow," he breathed after a moment of silence.

"Wow, what? Too many big words for you? Was poor little Freddie too focused on his tricks to pick up any comprehension skills at school? Do you need me to dumb it down?"

"If you insist, since dumb seems to come so easy for you," he retorted.

She let out a groan of frustration and dug her finger in deeper.

"You are maddening! At least I've got two brain cells to rub together. Your head is probably filled with fuck-all!"

Her voice bounced around the hallway as she stared at a wide-eyed Fred. She thought for a moment that'd she'd made a dent in his ego but his lips pulled up into an amused smirk. Her temper was usually a little more dependable than this but it was too late to go back now.

"My head," he repeated with a smile. "Hm…I'm more curious about your head."

"You're a bastard," she hissed, ignoring the heat radiating off of her face. He always reverted to perversion to throw her off guard, and unfortunately, it always worked.

"Normally you'd be right but this time, I dare say that you started it."

She glared at him and shook her head. He wasn't meant to be enjoying this. She'd hurled her best at him and it hadn't even hurt him in the slightest. Her brain told her to walk away but she stayed planted in place.

"Well, now I'm ending it. Yelling at you isn't worth the strain on my throat," she exclaimed.

His eyes flickered with even more amusement as the words left her tongue. She could've screamed with frustration when she realized what she'd said.

"Fern, darling," he cooed, leaning down further into her bubble. "I'd be more than happy to provide some strain on your throat. Just say the word."

"Fuck you."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he sighed, shaking his head. "A high-strung, good girl like you shouldn't have such a colorful vocabulary."

"My choice of words is no concern of yours," she blurted, internally cringing as she sounded like a child having a tantrum. It was difficult to admit to herself, but it seemed as though he had the upper hand.

"Well I didn't hear a single curse in that," he cooed, smirking devilishly. "Go on, don't be shy now, please continue your onslaught of obscenities. I'm a big boy, so I can take it, not like the posh blokes of Ravenclaw."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You don't get to talk down on anyone and you don't get to tell me what to do."

"I'm not, Fern, if you were as perceptive as you pretend to be, you'd have realized that I'm asking nicely. Can you do that for me, love?"

"Don't fucking call me that," she hissed, pressing her whole hand against his chest to keep him at a distance.

"There it is. Anything else, darling?"

"You're a prick."

He threw his head back in a laugh. "You sure I'm not a fucking prick?"

His tone made her blood boil. How had getting detention come to this? How had she let him weasel his way underneath her skin? She momentarily thought of the wand in her pocket but knew that he'd be falser than that.

"So now you're making fun of me?"

"No, I've just always found you very curious," he said, leaning into her hand. "Tell me something, Fern. Are curse words the only improper thing you do? Is everything else pressed skirts and studies? Do nasty words fill the void that a life without excitement has left you with?"

She looked at him like he'd slapped her straight across the face. This conversation was going to get her no closer to figuring out the Neville mystery, but now it didn't matter. She was going to finish her feud with the intolerable twin, showing him once and for all, she was not a woman to be reckoned with.

"For fucks sake, how do you stand yourself? The melodramatic attitude must be exhausting. A life without excitement? That's really what you want to go with?"

"I call it as I see it," he barked confidently with a smile.

She couldn't believe that he was actually lecturing her about the philosophy of life when he had next to nothing figured out.

"So, what, to lead a life worth living I'm supposed to torture my peers without a care in the world? I'd hardly call being a nuisance to everyone I come in contact with, exciting."

A flicker of anger crossed his face. She tried not to make it intimidate her but he caught her wrist and yanked her hand away, pinning it to her shoulder.

"At least it's something," he growled.

"Yeah, a thorn in everyone's side!"

His damn of self-control broke and he shook her arm violently.

"Then you're a fucking raincloud! Godric, how do you not see that you suck the life out of every room you're in? At least I break even with smiles but you? You're basically a Umbridge in training with your prim and proper attitude and delusions of order! It's fucking boring! YOU are fucking boring and I — "

Without another thought, she closed her eyes, brought her other hand back, balled in into a fist, and swung.

She felt her knuckles make contact with his ridiculously shaped nose and opened her eyes in time to see his eyes ablaze with anger.

"Fucking, shit," he bellowed. "Ow!"

"How's that for boring?" She yelled at his scrunched face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The words tipped her over the edge and she slung her fist at him again, this time catching his arm. It barely seemed enough to catch his attention so she let it all out. Every frustration, fear, anger; came out in punches, kicks, and slaps, all aimed at the very tall redhead who had his back up against the pillar.

"You're fucking mental," he roared, seizing both of her wrists and turning them around so that she had her back to the stone.

"Fuck you," she yelled.

"Stop kicking me you wretch of a woman, bloody hell!"

"You can't hurt my feelings, dumb fuck," she bellowed back, as he yanked her wrists above her head so that she couldn't break free and used his weight to stop her from moving. "There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself a million times."

The words registered in her mind the same moment they escaped her mouth. It was the truth, but she'd never said it out loud or even acknowledged it herself. She did in fact sling evil sentiments at the abyss in her self but for some odd reason, they'd never made a dent. Fred's words, however, didn't hurt in the slightest. On the contrary really; they ignited her.

He snarled at her words and held her still. Her heart beat so fast she thought she might pass out. She met his eyes finally and watched him digest what she'd said. He looked surprised. She couldn't blame him of course, she hadn't ever meant to say it out loud, let alone to someone she hated. She expected him to drop her, and leave because of the suddenly serious, uncomfortable topic of conversation but his face did something she didn't expect. He moved closer with a look of curiosity.

"Go on, try," she whispered, daring him despite her nerves. "I know you want to. I give you detentions, I confiscate your products, I target the rest of your family too because you're all fucking annoying —"

"Fuck you," he hissed.

"Fuck you too."

He glanced down at her lips as she spoke and held her tighter.

"You're a fucking bitch," he whispered, eyeing her with wary.

She threw her head back into a sharp cackle. "Is that all you've got?"

He snarled at her flippant attitude and brought one hand down to hold her throat while the other kept her hands above her head, scraping her knuckles against the stone in glorious agony.

"Shut the fuck up you insufferable, uptight swot," he purred angrily.

Her eyes went wide and she saw a flash of regret cross his face.

"Bloody hell…I…" he stammered, easing up on her restraints.

"What else," she croaked from beneath his grip. The words, his seething presence, and the painful embrace pumped adrenaline into her veins and an inexplicable hunger into her throat. The thought of him fighting off hatred to be close to her set her chest ablaze.

His eyes snapped back to hers. She was daring him, goading him, perhaps even begging him to continue. It was dramatic but she thought that she might die if he stopped now.

"I've always thought that you were an evil bitch, you know that?"

"I know," she whispered. His chest rose and fell rapidly making his breath heating her face with every puff.

"But now," he murmured low and slow, increasing the pressure against her throat. "I think you're desperate."

Her eyes went wide and he inched closer.

"A needy, desperate, good girl…with a dirty fucking mouth."

"Yes," she moaned.

His eyes went wide again, clearly surprised by her sensual reaction but he didn't move away.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "You like this, don't you?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer and pressed himself up against her with a force that made her spread her legs to make room for his extended knee. It brushed against her gloriously, fanning the flames that were already ablaze. She could see the same soft unexpected look in him that she felt herself. He hadn't known that he would like it either. Just as she wondered if he was feeling an ounce of what she was, she felt growth in his pants.

"You like it….so you're a fucking whore, too. Aren't you?"

She whimpered and slid down the wall a little until she could press harder against the rough material of his pants.

"Aren't you," he whispered again, bringing his thumb up from her neck, and teasing her bottom lip. "A fucking whore."

She opened her mouth in response and let him slide his finger up her tongue and back out, smearing her lips with spit.

"Yes, yes…fuck," she whispered.

"Shut the fuck up," he grunted, gripping her chin so that she had to tilt her head further back to look up at him. "I don't want to hear that word from your mouth ever again."

She swallowed hard. He looked down at her with a serious look but his eyes were on fire. She glanced down at his neck, practically panting from the sight of his veins bulging from anger.

"Good girls don't curse. Do they," he asked forcefully. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you."

She snapped her eyes back up to his and slowly shook her head.

"No," she sighed.

"Stop. Talking," he hissed. "Let me rephrase that since you're such a fucking now it all.

My good girl doesn't curse. Does she…Fern?"

All she could do was whimper and shake her head as he slowly released her chin. It was incredible. The words seemed to pour out of him as if he'd been planning them and scratched each itch that she'd ever had.

"Good answer," he moaned, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "She's mine. So I get to tell her what to do with her pretty little mouth…pretty little throat…and pretty little cunt."

Ferns eyes blew wide open at the last bit of the sentence and she realized that she'd been grinding against him with helpless desperation. The realization felt like a shot to the head and the fantasy was broken.

The hallway appeared behind him; they were still very much in public. Fred came into view as himself again, and not a domineering figure to fuck all of her troubles away. She bristled, acutely aware of his forceful grip. She pulled away from his grip with all her might, causing him to stumble backward. His eyebrows shot up at the movement and he released her not a second later, backing away equally as shocked that they were still in the school.

She leaned against the stone trying to catch her breath, and find her footing again as they stared at each other. Fred Weasley had called her many things in the past, and she guessed that maybe they'd always stoked the fire in her chest but this was…something else. She could tell that if she didn't leave now, it'd become an incurable hunger, which she could not afford, especially with him.

"Fuck…Fern….I'm sorry I —"

"Stop," she whispered, talking a step around him, towards the moving staircase. "Just…stop."

"Fern," he said, matching her stride, trying to catch up. "I'm sorry —I didn't mean —I thought that —"

"Just stop," she bellowed, halting him with her voice. "I…I have to go."

He looked at her, stunned, and disheveled but didn't move another inch as she made it to the door and took one last look at him before sprinting down the stairs.

[judediangelo75]

Scars

‘It’s been awhile since I went for a swim...’ Judith thought as she stripped out of her clothes down to her swimsuit. Her mind wandered as her fingertips instantly danced over one of the scars on her chest.

It became a habit of hers. Every summer was her personal hell because she would be alone with her mother.

Someone who never wanted her.

Judith would never purposely put herself in her mother’s way. Let alone look at her. She knew that she reminded her mother of her dead father.

From looks to personality traits and attitudes. 

Judith wasn’t the daughter she wanted. Or the child she wanted period.

Sade tried to mold Judith into a daughter she would want. But nothing the young girl could do to please her mother.

How can you please someone with something they never wanted?

During the summer before fourth year, Judith accidently broke a glass frame of Jamal and their mother while she was cleaning. Sade snapped and lashed her bad with a belt. 

Sade yelled the only reason why she didn’t abort her was because of her father. 

Nobody but a dead man wanted her alive.

Judith couldn’t move without wincing in pain for days.

Sade grew crueler with each passing year, the scars on her skin take longer and longer to fade. This made the Hufflepuff witch very insecure. 

And Sade knew this. 

‘Who would want someone like you? Look at you! Scarred and damaged! From your unkempt hair down to your brutish appearance!’

Judith inhaled deeply, holding it for 5 counts before sighing.

‘Sticks and stones... sticks and stones...’

Nobody knew about her scars nor the story behind them. The scars on her arms and legs can be passed off as cuts she got from training or Quidditch.

Judith knew if someone were to see her back and torso, there will be questions.

Questions she never want to answer.

Caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the sound of wings coming towards her until she felt a pair of talons on her right shoulder. 

She turned to kiss the Golden Eagle’s head.

“Hello, Talbott,” she said with a small smile.

The large bird cooed before flying on the ground and transforming back in to the Ravenclaw wizard.

“Hello, little bird... Are you alright,” Talbott asked softly. Judith frowned at the question.

“Why do you ask,” she answered instead.

“You’re crying.” Judith let out a shocked gasp, immediately feeling her face to find it wet with tears.

The young witch can feel her heart race as she immediately backed away from her boyfriend.

“Hey, hey. Wait a second, Judith,” Talbott said as he quickly brought her into his arms. Judith braced her arms against his chest, refusing to give into the comfort offered to her.

“Judith. Little bird, look at me,” Talbott said softly, concern creasing his features. They’ve been together for quite some time and never once has he seen her cry.

Nor pull away from him like that. It was like she was scared of him...

Talbott studied her closer and noticed at her lack of clothing and-

Red eyes widen.

Scars. All of them were old but very prominent against her skin.

“Judith-” Then there it was.

A soft sob.

The Ravenclaw boy was quick to pull his girlfriend with him to sit at the base of a tree. He held her as tightly as he could, rocking her as Judith fell victim to her tears.

Talbott knew there was story. Judith isn’t the type to burst into tears randomly.

She was strong and steadfast, rarely letting her emotions get the best of her. It hurt him to see her hurting.

“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry,” she croaked out, pushing him away a bit to wipe her face. Talbott kept a steady hold on her, so she didn’t get far.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, little bird. Talk to me, what’s wrong,” Tallbott cooed softly. Judith sniffled, side eyeing him.

“Of course I should be! Hello? For bursting into tears? For you to see me scarred like this? I don’t know, you pick,” she retorted. Talbott cracked a small smile before frowning.

“There’s nothing wrong with crying, Judith. It’s natural if you’re feeling sad or upset. And I don’t care for your scars,” he said, trying to put the pieces together in his mind. Judith rubbed her arms as if she was cold.

“That’s not what my mother thinks. Crying is a weakness in her eyes... and of course, you do. Guys expect girls to flawless and beautiful...”

‘Everything I’m not...’

Talbott’s brows shot up to his hairline. It’s rare for Judith to mention her parents. Only those who are close to her would have an idea about them. They, including Talbott, know about her father, Kendrick.

Nobody really knows about her mother. All that is known about her is her name.

Sade.

“Well your mother doesn’t know anything. And you are beautiful,” Talbott argued. He could see the doubt in those pale gold eyes.

The same eyes as her dead father.

“But-Mhm?!” A reply laid on the tip of her tongue before she was silenced by Talbott’s sudden kiss. She was pulled flushed against her boyfriend’s warm body as she surrendered to his kiss. She moaned weakly when he nipped her lower lip.

“Tal-Talbott,” she squealed as the Ravenclaw trailed kissed down the sensitive skin of her jaw and neck. Her body let out full body shudder when she felt him suck on her sweet spot. One of her hands pushed his head deeper into her neck as she bit her lip to hold back a moan.

Talbott pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on the love bite.

“You’re beautiful to me, little bird. From those unique gold eyes down to your scars. Everything about you shows your beauty and strength. You don’t have to tell me about how you got them, but just know I would never think less of you because of them,” Talbott said, looking into his girlfriend’s eyes.

He wants her to really hear him when he said this.

Her outer appearance may have intrigued him but it was what he saw in her eyes, in her heart, and made him fall for her. 

Nothing will change that.

Not even what that godsforsaken woman that is her mother.

Judith gave Talbott a genuine shy smile.

“Thank you, Talbott...” He pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Anything for you, little bird...”

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

I’ve done it! I’ve finally done it!

I’ve drawn a Talith picture!

And drawing Talbott in general 😂

I’ve been trying to find the energy and commitment to draw him for who knows how long. I keep getting frustrated because it just wasn’t good enough for me. I wanted to do Bird Boy justice.

And now I can finally say, I did that. Whew.

And this is a true backstory. 

While she is very confident and a badass in her own right, Judith got bad self esteem issues. She hates crying, even more so if it’s in front of people. She doesn’t want people to think she’s weak. So she tends to bottle up her emotions until she’s either in the safety of her room or she has a breakdown (rinse and repeat).

She gets better, but yeah. There’s that.

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #31

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Azariah Steele belongs to the fabulous @cursebreakerfarrier

Word Count: ~ 2.500

______________________________________

Chapter 31: A Matter of Nerves

The sun was already hanging low in the sky when Lizzie left the castle in search of her friend. She took a moment to enjoy the last warm rays that were painting the landscape around her in hues of orange before the cold of the night would creep up on them. The air was still pleasantly mellow, the heat of the day radiating off the stone walls of the school. If she listened closely, she could hear voices and music drifting over to her from the training grounds where the pre-match party had undoubtedly begun by now.

Ignoring the compelling beat of what sounded suspiciously like The Weird Sisters playing, Lizzie walked past the path leading around the castle to where the party was going down. She nodded to quite a few people walking into the direction she was coming from, all exchanging astounded looks; after all, Lizzie had become somewhat of a staple on every pre-match party, no matter who would be playing the next day.

But now wasn’t the time to enjoy herself in order to take her mind off tomorrow; she had to check whether Skye was alright and there was only one place where she would be hiding from the rest of the world.

Lizzie was glad when the seemingly endless flow of people lessened and the ground became emptier the further she walked away from the castle. It was a peaceful summer evening, one of those Lizzie liked best; she could hear the crickets chirping in the wide meadows stretching between the castle and the Forbidden Forest, which had already begun to sink into the coming darkness. A light breeze shifted Lizzie’s hair, smelling of warm grass and pine trees.

The Quidditch pitch lay very quiet and deserted in the golden light of the sunset. It was a strange thought that it would be flooded with people tomorrow, the sound of the crowd drowning everything else. It made the silence hanging over the stands and its wooden towers that much more poignant, as if the whole stadium was taking a last breath before the impending storm.

Lizzie had never understood why Skye took her refuge here of all places. She found nothing calming about the atmosphere; if anything, the knowledge that she would have to perform in this exact same spot, which was now lying so peacefully in the evening glow, made Lizzie feel even more anxious. But then again, despite all their similarities, Skye and Lizzie just weren’t alike in some ways.

But when she climbed the rickety stairs and emerged on top of the stands, her eyes swept over the scenery again. The sunlight reflecting off the banners hanging from the wooden towers made them look like they were set on fire, a mixture of golden hues and shades of red. The megaphone attached to Murphy’s commentary box was gleaming so brightly Lizzie had to look away after a moment.

Come to think of it, the place had its own kind of beauty after all.

Lizzie continued walking along the stands, trying to shut out the memory of the last time she’d been here outside of a match. She had spotted Skye as soon as she had entered the wooden construction; she was sitting in the first row a little bit ahead of her, her chin resting on her arms that were crossed on the railing in front of her. Lost in her thoughts, she was watching the goalposts quietly, holding a piece of parchment clutched in her fist.

Lizzie recalled the last time she had come to find Skye hiding from Penny up here. So much had happened since then; it felt more like a lifetime than only one school year ago.

Skye tore her gaze away from the glinting hoops for a moment when she heard her approach. Lizzie quietly sat down next to her and Skye smiled melancholically, nodding her head towards the pitch stretching out below them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Lizzie replied noncommittally, testing the waters for Skye’s mood.

“Believe it or not, this is how I like it best; the pitch, I mean,” Skye continued as if she hadn’t heard Lizzie’s reply. “When you’re flying by the packed stands and the crowd’s going wild for you, that’s a smashing feeling and all, don’t get me wrong; but no one really appreciates the place itself.”

She pushed herself back from the railing and leaned against the wood making up the footrest of the second row behind her. “A Quidditch pitch is something steady, you know? No matter where you’re going, the pitch remains the same; same lawn, same goalposts, same open sky,” she explained. “I’ve seen more Quidditch pitches than I can remember but when you’re sitting up on the stands all on your own, there’s always something peaceful about it.”

“I guess everyone has their personal way of finding a place of peace,” Lizzie agreed. “Orion meditates, I go to the reserve and you come here.”

“It’s the only place I can have a proper think; it gives me exactly what I need. Before a match, there’s already this incredible energy, as if everything is holding its breath in anticipation; and when all is done, it’s calm again but still so full of life, as if you can still hear the cheers on the stands… ” Skye blinked incredulously as she trailed off. “Blimey, I’m starting to sound like Orion, ain’t I?”

Lizzie chuckled. “A little bit, yeah; but I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t,” Skye teased, making Lizzie shove her playfully.

“Low blow, Parkin.” A few days ago, Skye’s remark probably would have hurt her and left her feeling down, but now she was able to just let it pass; ever since talking to Orion back in the changing room, somehow, she felt different.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Lizzie now got to the point of why they were actually here.

Skye raised her hand still clutching the parchment, which Lizzie assumed was the letter Penny had spoken about.

“It’s my dad,” Skye sighed, “he’s hurt again.”

Lizzie’s face twisted in sympathy. “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it something major?”

“No, just a dislocated shoulder, they fixed him right back up. But he’ll be missing the final matches of the season.” She sighed again. “I’ve been knowing that for ages, though.”

Confused, Lizzie tilted her head to the side. “What’s the problem then? What did his letter say?”

“He told me he’s going to be here tomorrow,” Skye told her quietly. “He didn’t tell me earlier because he wanted it to be a surprise.” She opened the folded letter up and quoted, “He ‘wants to watch his little girl hoist up the cup’.”

Skye sighed deeply and gripped the railing in front of them tightly as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Lizzie. What if we don’t win? Don’t want to sound like McNully, but our odds really aren’t the best.”

“Come on now, they’re not that bad. We have as good a shot as Gryffindor at winning.”

“Maybe, but a good shot’s not enough,” Skye replied. She was turning the letter around in her hands over and over again, tapping her foot against the wooden balustrade. “Quidditch is the only way I know to really get through to him. He’s expecting only the best from me; I can’t disappoint him.”

Her distress was palpable as she tugged on the hem of her jacket sleeves. “I just want to hear him tell me that he’s proud of me this one time,” she finished quietly.

Lizzie’s face softened at Skye’s confession. “Oh Skye, of course he’s proud of you! How couldn’t he be? You’re his daughter after all, he loves you. He has a weird way of showing it but he does. If he didn’t, he would never be so invested in how our team’s doing; it’s not because of Quidditch, it’s because of you. You could never disappoint him.”

Skye looked at her doubtfully, but also with a touch of hope; she wanted to believe Lizzie was right. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Not entirely convinced, Skye sighed again. “But what if something goes wrong?”

“Well, with that attitude it certainly will,” Lizzie told her off jokingly. When she saw Skye hanging her head though, she leaned forward to catch her eye.

“Listen up, Parkin, remember what you drilled into me? ‘No heartache, no distractions’. It helped me get a grip again and the same now goes for you.”

“Can’t really call that heartache though,” Skye huffed.

“Maybe not in the traditional way, but it’s definitely distracting you and we don’t need that right now.” Lizzie leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Apparently, Azariah, the Gryffindor Keeper, has been joking that we won’t get one shot past him tomorrow. Do you think we can let that stand?”

“Absolutely not,” Skye answered immediately, a lopsided grin forming on her face. She was already looking a lot more like her old, fiery self again. “He’ll have no idea what’s coming at him.”

“Exactly,” Lizzie concurred, “And not only will we show Gryffindor how it’s done, but the whole school and your dad are going to see what we’re capable of. We’re going to show your dad something he’s never seen before.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. “What would that be, though? I’m a Parkin after all. Dad’s the one having trained us ever since we were in our nappies. He knows exactly what a Parkin can do on a broomstick.”

“But he won’t be seeing any old Parkin play,” Lizzie corrected her. “What he’ll be seeing is the one and only SkyeParkin; flying ace, Chaser prodigy, nuisance extraordinaire.”

She grinned as Skye started laughing at her over dramatic praises before she continued more seriously, “When you just do what you’re doing best, your dad won’t even know what hit him.”

Wanting to end her pep talk on a lighter note, Lizzie added, “And if that’s still not enough for you, look at it that way: if there ever was an opportunity to show off to Rath, this is it.”

Just like Lizzie had anticipated, Skye guffawed at her last words. “That’s true,” she snickered. “Bet she’s livid they beat us and we’re still playing for the Cup instead of Ravenclaw.”

“Probably,” Lizzie agreed. “I still can’t believe we turned the season around that way,” she contemplated after another moment. “The win against Slytherin was quite the team effort, wasn’t it?”

“That it was; our team’s a smashing bunch.” Skye smiled openly at her. “I know I’m not exactly the most popular one with our mates, but I still couldn’t imagine a life without you lot anymore. Orion has a point somewhere when he calls us his family.”

Lizzie smiled back at her, happy to see her friend’s mood being lifted. “I guess he has.”

Skye’s gaze swept over the stands and down to the pitch, where it lingered on the goalposts once again. With a happy sigh she leaned back and watched the last traces of red fade from the darkening evening sky.

“Remember the first time we’ve been up here, way back in our second year?”

Lizzie chuckled at the memory. “Of course I do; can’t believe how long ago that was. I tried helping you with Charms; I still can’t believe you maimed that poor book like you did. And made me ride a jinxed broomstick,” she couldn’t help but add wryly.

Skye started giggling as well. “And set some Bludgers on you,” she recalled cheerily.

“And set some Bludgers on me.” Lizzie didn’t quite share her amusement, though.

Still laughing, Skye nudged her with her elbow. “But look how far you’ve come since then. I don’t know that many who can hold a candle to you now.”

Blushing at the compliment, Lizzie twisted the ends of her ponytail between her fingers and smirked. “I’ll give you that, it worked. Although your teaching methods definitely weren’t what you’d call conventional.”

Skye only grinned at that. “Maybe, but neither one of us is conventional either.”

“True,” Lizzie laughed lightly. “I’m glad everything went how it did, though.”

“Me too; if anyone had told me back then we’d be mates I’d have called them bonkers, but here we are. You’re certainly one of the best mates I’ve ever had,” Skye continued in a more serious fashion, “cheers for putting up with me all of the time; I know I can be quite the handful.”

Lizzie shook her head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They were silent for a bit, listening to the wind that had picked up rustling through the House banners below them.

It was Skye who spoke up again after some time. “Can’t believe the year’s almost over now. I’m sorry it wasn’t the best one for you, though; this whole situation is sucking big time. I’m not saying that because of the team, but because of you.”

Her eyes flickered over to Lizzie momentarily before she continued. “Maybe you and Orion will find a way after all. If any of my mates deserve to be happy, it’s you guys.”

Lizzie sighed; she had hoped this topic wouldn’t come up. “I think I made my peace with it, in a way. It’s not like I can change the way things are now anyway. It’s my fault everything blew up in my face, so it’s only fair I have to deal with the consequences now.”

She shifted her weight and made a conscious effort not to fiddle with the birthstone pendant she knew was resting under her jersey. “But let’s not talk about this now, alright? All I want to focus onis the match and getting our hands on that God forsaken Cup. After that, we’ll see what happens; it’s one step after the other.”

Lizzie clapped her hands on her knees, the sharp sound echoing across the silent stands and rose to her feet. “Speaking about it, my personal next step is going to the pre-match party, they’re probably waiting for us by now. Are you coming?”

To her surprise, Skye shook her head. “No, go ahead without me, maybe I’ll catch you later. I want to stay here for a bit now.”

Once again, her green eyes followed the perimeter of the stands facing them. Darkness had begun to settle over the pitch, the commentary box was barely discernible anymore.

“Need to set my mind for tomorrow properly. You’re right, Jameson, it’s full focus on winning now, everything else has to wait until after that bloody Cup is ours; it’s one step after the other.”