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gracexthoughts · 9 months ago

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of violent delights chap 6

eavesdropping

18 December 1995

Euphemia's POV

I shiver as the door to the Three Broomsticks opens as snow and icy air blow into the pub. I wrap my hands tightly around my mug of Butterbeer, taking a long sip and relishing how the warm amber drink feels as it warms me from the inside out, and turn my attention back down to the book in front of me. Angelina and Alicia had been here earlier, but rather than wait for the Twins who are taking their sweet time, they went back to their shopping as both of them are behind on their Christmas shopping. Suddenly, cold hands cup my cheeks from behind me and I squeal and pull away. The Twins laugh as they sit down, pulling their hats and scares and cloaks off. "I hate you two!" I laugh, shivering and holding my Butterbeer closer.

"George maybe, but you love me," Fred says, winking at me.

"I had to make friends with the Weasley twins, didn't I? I should go back in time and tell myself to steer clear of the whole lot of you," I tease, finishing my drink. "You guys want a Butterbeer?"

"I'll get them," Fred jumps up before I can pull out my coin purse. I sigh and look to George sitting across from me.

"I wish you'd let me pay sometimes," I grumble.

"A lady never pays, Phe," George shrugs, some snow still stuck to the ends of his hair that his hat didn't cover. The Weasley's, always unfailingly generous and caring, never let Harry and I help them with anything. Whether it was drinks at the Three Broomsticks or staying with them last summer. Harry and I inherited more money than we could ever hope to spend from our parents but the Weasley's never took anything we offered them. Before I can argue, Fred returns and sets a Butterbeer in front of me.

"Thank you," I say to the two of them and take a sip. "So, what the hell took you guys so long? Angie and Alicia left almost 20 minutes ago."

"We had some uh, business to do first," Fred says, looking down at his Butterbeer.

"You're not gonna elaborate?" I ask, chuckling.

"Nope," they say in unison, giving me their best 'look how innocent we are' look which I know better than to believe after 5 years of friendship.

Before I can challenge them, another cold breeze cuts through the air and I turn to see Hermione, Ron and Harry walking though the door. Harry immediately locks eyes with me and all three of them make their way over to our table looking very guilty.

"Harry, what the hell are you doing here?" I ask, angry, confused and maybe a little impressed but I won't tell him that. While I know how upset Harry has been at not being able to visit Hogsmeade, it has been a slight weight off my shoulders that he has been kept safe in the castle while Sirius Black is still free. Harry's wide eyes dart to the Weasley Twins behind me which is all the answer I needed. Grabbing my book off the table, I turn to the closest twin, Fred, and hit his shoulder. "OH! I told you to keep the map in a safe place! Not tell my little brother how to sneak out of the castle!"

"You knew about the map?" Harry asks, pulling a familiar piece of parchment from his back pocket. "They told me not to tell you!" He motions to the Twins who recoil from my gaze, knowing better than to challenge me when I'm angry.

"You gave him the map?! What are you thinking?" I take my book and hit Fred again before trying to reach across to get George too but George grabs the book out of my hands and hides it under the table.

"Snitch!" George grumbles to Harry, who takes a seat in the table next to him.

"Mama's mad," Fred laughs, and I smack his shoulder again with the back of my hand.

"How come you told her and not me?" Ron questions, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting at the Twins, as Hermione pulls up two more chairs to our table.

"You don't help with pranks!" Fred justifies, taking a sip of his Butterbeer.

"Harry, this is serious. You can't just leave that lying around for anyone to find and you shouldn't carry it around in Hogsmeade, especially!" I scold, unable to keep the worry out of my voice. Harry rolls his eyes slightly, tucking the map back in his pocket.

"I told him the same thing! What if Sirius Black finds out about the tunnels? It's like handing him a map straight to you," Hermione adds, seeming very pleased that someone agrees with her.

"Mia, its locked remember?" George reasons.

"And it didn't take us that long to figure it out! As first years, mind you. It could be all too easy for someone like Black to figure out." I remember when Fred and George came back to the common room that night, giggling with excitement. They weren't back five minutes before they were asking for my help to figure out how to work it. The twins had found in Flitch's office that tapping your wand on it made it respond to you, so there we sat, huddled around it, and I tapped my wand against the paper, causing ink to spread over the surface.

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs sense a friend to mischief and chaos. But to access our secrets, hard earned and well preserved, a promise must be made. Are you up to no good?" The map had read in sloping cursive, which I read out in a whisper to the Twins.

"Yes! We are up to no good!" Fred had responded, more excited than I'd ever seen him.

"Swear it. Solemnly," the map had written out, in a different handwriting than before.

"We do swear it," George had said, tapping his wand against the parchment again. It took an embarrassingly long time to figure out exactly what it wanted us to say; I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. But once we had that figured out, the map became our secret weapon; not even Lee, Angelina and Alicia know about it.

"Mia! C'mon, it'll be fine! I'll be careful with it and I won't-" Harry started but another breeze from the door opening cut him off and I turn around to see Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid and the Minister of Magic, who Harry and I met for the first time this summer, entering the Three Broomsticks. Hermione and Ron quickly push Harry under the table, spilling some of his Butterbeer in the process. The six of us watch as the group move towards the bar, order and then begin walking towards us.

"Mobiliarbus!" I whisper, moving the Christmas tree, which was sitting beside our table, to sit in front of the table, hiding the six of us from sight of the teachers and hiding Harry better than our legs would. The teachers sit right on the other side of the tree as Madam Rosemerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, delivers their drinks. We sit in a tense silence on our end of the tree, Harry crouched under the table between all our legs, as the teachers converse casually with Rosemerta, who has joined them for a drink, and each other. I silently kick myself for not making Harry return to the castle when I first saw him.

I'm trying to devise a way to get Harry out of the pub without being seen when Fudge speaks up, pulling me out of my thoughts, "What else but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school over Halloween? Well I believe he is still most certainly in the area." Hermione, Ron, and the Twins all look to me: Hermione's face worried, the Twins and Ron more bewildered than anything and I shift in my seat slightly to lean closer to the tree separating us from the adults.

"It's been very bad for my business with the Ministry sending dementors into my pub every other night!" Rosemerta scolds, an edge in her voice as she speaks to the Minister.

"Well they are a necessary precaution! We all know what Black is capable of," Fudge defends.

"You know, I still have so much trouble believing it. Of all the people to take the Dark Mark, I never would have thought... well I remember him when he was a boy up at Hogwarts," Rosemerta bemuses.

"I agree, Rosemerta. I was devastated," McGonagall adds.

"Rosemerta, you don't know the worst of it..." Fudge murmurs.

"What could possibly be worse than murdering all those people?"

"Well if you remember Black at Hogwarts, surely you remember who his best friend was?" ask McGonagall quietly.

"Well 'course! You never saw one without the other, did you? Sirius Black and James Potter were quite a double act," Rosemerta laughs softly. My heart leaps in my chest at the mention of my father and there is a large clang from under our table as Harry drops his tankard, causing the rest of us to flinch but the teachers don't seem to notice. Is that part of why Black is so determined to kill Harry and I?

"You'd have thought they were brothers they were so inseparable," Flitwick chimes in.

"They practically were," Fudge responds. "Potter trusted Black more than anyone else in his life. Black was his best man at his wedding and godfather to Harry. Harry and Euphemia have no idea of course, far too heavy a burden to tell them now." McGonagall hums in agreement and I feel my head spinning but there is no time to dwell on the information because Fudge keeps going. "Back during the war, Dumbledore was tipped off that You-Know-Who was going after the Potters. He told them their best bet was the Fidelius Charm." I make eye contact with Hermione, who shakes her head, as much in the dark on the spell as me. Hermione may be two years younger than I am but her knowledge of obscure spells and such is still beyond much of my own.

"What is that? How does that work?" Rosemerta inquires, sounding very interested in the gossip being exchanged. Flitwick clears his throat before speaking up.

"Oh it's terribly complex. The information, in this case the Potters' location, is hidden inside a single a person, in their very soul, oft' called the Secret Keeper. This makes the location impossible to find unless the Secret Keeper gives them up." Flitwick explains, sounding very much like he does in our Charms lectures. "You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters could have searched Godric's Hollow for years and years and never would have found them as long as the Secret Keeper refused to speak."

"They made Sirius Black their Secret Keeper?" Rosemerta gasps. I close my eyes and put my hands over my face, overwhelmed, and feel an arm reach around my shoulders.

"Dumbledore tried to dissuade James from it, even offering to be the Secret Keeper himself, but James insisted it be Black," McGonagall continues. "There was a spy, you see, that seemingly had been passing information from our side back to You-Know-Who but Dumbledore wasn't sure who. He suspected Black due to his families' involvement with the Death Eaters but James insisted. I remember him saying that if he couldn't trust Sirius then he couldn't trust anyone."

"He was always loyal to a fault, James," Flitwick adds.

"Not even a full week had the spell been cast-"

"Black betrayed them?" Rosemerta gasps.

"He did indeed," Fudge confirms. I sigh and lean into Fred's embrace, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

"Filthy traitor!" Hagrid bellows causing the whole pub to jump, especially the six of us eavesdropping. Harry groans slightly and I peer under the table to see him rubbing the top of his head. McGonagall and Flitwick both shush Hagrid who keeps speaking. "I saw 'em that night, you know? Dumbledore sent me ter rescue Harry and Mia from the rubble, the poor things. Had jus' pulled them out of the ruins, bloody and screamin' the both of them an' parents dead... an' then Sirius Black pulls up on that flying motorbike. He was all white an' shaky, tellin' me to give 'em the kids. 'Give them to me, Hagrid. I'm Harry's godfather, I'll look after them now' he kept saying. Imagine if I'd given them to 'em! But I said no, Dumbledore had already set up a place for them. Then, he gave me his motorbike and ran off, probably hopin' to disappear."

"Well the Aurors caught up to him the next day, didn't they? And thank goodness they did," Rosemerta says, sounding incredibly satisfied.

"I wish I could say we did but it was Peter Pettigrew, another one of the Potters' boyhood friends," Fudge corrects. I've never heard the name Peter Pettigrew before, although I guess I'd never heard of Sirius Black before this summer either.

"Pettigrew...? Oh! That little lump of a boy that always followed James and Sirius around, yes?" Rosemerta asks to which McGonagall hums in agreement.

"Eyewitnesses- Muggles- told us that Pettigrew cornered Black sobbing and talking about how could Black have done such a thing. Then reached for his wand but Black was quicker, blew about a dozen people up along with sweet little Pettigrew," Fudge explains quickly. "I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes back then and I was one of the first on the scene, I'll never forget the sight... He had blown a crater in the street, bodies were strewn all about and in the middle of all the chaos, Black stood there laughing with a finger at his feet. A finger, that's all that was left of Pettigrew by the time we got there.... Took twenty Aurors from Magical Law Enforcement to contain Black and he's been in Azkaban ever since."

"Oh my..." Rosemerta breathes and the table is quiet for a moment before she speaks again, "You think Black has escaped to go after the Potter children? And then what? Revive You-Know-Who?" Fear creeps into her voice and I shudder at the thought of coming face to face with the man who betrayed my parents, anger mixing in my chest with the familiar sadness I feel anytime someone talks of my parents.

"We must assume the worst, yes that may be his plan. But we hope to catch Black long before any harm comes to anyone, let alone the children. Just this-" Fudge says, sounding more nervous than moments before.

"Minister, if you are to dine with Dumbledore, we really should start towards the castle," McGonagall speaks up, causing a stir of movement and goodbyes.

Once the danger of being caught has passed, Harry emerges from under the table and the six of us sit in an uneasy silence for a moment. Harry and I meet each other's eyes across the table, my own confusion and anger and anguish reflected in my brother's eyes. Eventually, Hermione speaks up: "We should start heading back. It's near dinner time."

Harry and I leave the others to walk back the normal way, and I follow Harry into the Honeydukes cellar and through the passage way.

"Harry, wait," I say, stopping as we near the end of the tunnel. My brother turns to me, waiting for me to continue. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid?"

"Like what?" Harry crosses his arms over his chest.

"Like trying to go after Black," I say and Harry tries to speak but I cut him off, continuing to speak. "He isn't worth dying for. You heard the Minister, it took twenty aurors to catch him the first time. You can't go running after him like you've done the last two years. He'll kill you!"

"Mia, don't start!" Harry yells, the pain in his voice echoing off the stone walls of the tunnel. "And I wouldn't let him kill me because-"

"Because you'll kill him first? Harry, listen to yourself. You're not thinking clearly!" I plead.

"Malfoy knows. He told me so in Potions: 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself... I'd take revenge.' I bet his dad told him all about how Black turned-"

"And you're going to listen to Draco Malfoy over me? Of course Malfoy would love if you ran off to try and hunt Black down because you wouldn't come back!" I yell, getting more and more desperate for my brother to listen to me. Harry shakes his head and begins walking again, turning his back on me. "If you go after him, you play directly into Black's hand! Harry think about it, Mum and Dad wouldn't want to you to get killed in a suicide quest for revenge!"

"Well I'll never know what they would think, will I? Because of Black, and unlike you, I've never spoken to them!" Harry yells, turning back to face me. "You don't understand!"

I stop in my tracks for a moment, stunned. Sure Harry and I bicker like all siblings, but very rarely have we ever had the kind of blow up fights I've seen the Weasley siblings have. Harry and I depended on each other too much for that. "Harry, that's not fair. I don't remember any of the time I got with them anymore than you remember the first 3 years of your own life! Not any of the good, anyway. Of all the people in the world, I am the one person who does understand. Believe me, Harry, I would love to go after Black and make him pay for what he did to us but we can't."

We are silent for a long moment before harry finally meets my eyes again. "McGonagall, Dumbledore, Hagrid... they all knew and didn't tell us." I nod, angry about it too, but I stopped expecting adults to tell us everything after Harry's first year.

"I know... Listen, the dementors and the Ministry are gonna catch Black. Then this summer, we're gonna find an apartment in London, and we'll have as normal as a summer as we can muster. Away from the Dursleys and Black and Voldemort, all of it. But in order to get there, you have to promise me not to go after him, okay?" I step towards my brother, gripping his shoulders, needing him to understand me. Eventually he nods, "Promise." Smiling, I pull him into a hug. He's grown a lot this year and has quickly gotten taller than me. Where I used to cradle his head against my shoulder as he cried silently in the middle of the night so as to not wake the Dursleys, I can barely look over his shoulder now. "C'mon, lets go get some dinner," I say quietly as we break away. Harry nods, pushing up his glasses as he turns down the tunnel and begins walking again. I look down at my left hand, where the lighting scar stretches down the back of my hand to wrap around my wrist, swallow my own anger, and follow my brother back to Hogwarts.

A/N: A lot of this is from the book so I'm sorry for kind of a boring chapter and sorry there is no Mattheo in this chapter

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cescalr · 2 years ago

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fwiw ch4 👀

👀 Ok! So;

A week goes by. Ron saw less of Hermione. She was helping the Order with their efforts on figuring out the Dark Marks, to see if there happened to be a way to exploit them. Since she got the inspiration for the DA coins from them, it all made sense to Ron, at least. And she was doing other stuff - still going over the texts in the library, and she had been reading about horcruxes, looking a little green but determined. Ron knew why he'd do it, and he wondered if she'd figured it out yet, like she figured out the Basilisk, like she figured out Rita Skeeter. If Hermione knew about Harry. Ron hadn't told her. Hadn't told anyone - hadn't said a word, outside that halted not-really-a-revelation with Ginny. It was just sat there, loud and unavoidable, in his head. The boy must die. Harry knew something - knew that Ron was keeping something from him. And, well, technically he did tell Ginny. So, there were only three people that knew, other than Ron. And Ron didn't know what to make of what he'd seen - what to make of Snape, the traitor, or was he one, really? What was he? Some kind of quadruple agent? Ron thought he couldn't really have been a spy at all. Snape worked for no side but his own, it just so happened that Dumbledore's side was Snape's side, tangentially, which put him mostly in-line with the Order. Until Dumbledore asked Snape to kill him, that was. The Daily Prophet was in shambles about it. Ministry had a chokehold on the whole thing, of course, but even then the articles were all confused. Prophet was never an independent paper, not like the Quibbler, and that truth showed itself now more than ever. Amelia Bones was doing the best she could, but it just wasn't being considered good enough. If she got replaced as Minister... Ron sighed. He leant back from the table, put down his knife and fork. Dobby had been showing up at random intervals wringing his hands and offering his services, but nobody was really sure what he could do. Spying, even though he was a house elf, would have been considered too risky. So, just after whenever he popped in, there they found new food in the pantry. Everyone was always so busy they didn't have time or spare brain-power to question it, but Ron gave him a mis-matched pair of socks, all the same.

I've been working on this off and on for a year, but Uni's been a real drag when it comes to giving me free time in which to do so. But rest assured, FWIW is getting finished... just, uh, not any time soon.

Oof.

Still! Obviously, FWIW - For What It's Worth - was always planned to be, and is shaping up to actually achieve, a rewrite of HP from GOF onwards with Ronarry as the main pairing, and Ron as the POV. It's my fav little funky fanfic, and I'm super excited to get it finished. I mean, for one, wow! me finishing something!! what a novelty! but also, er, yikes. I started this in 2018 - I was 17! I'm 21 now! I'll be 22 in, oh, six days. Yeah. That's a lot of years to have still not finished this fic. Almost six of them!

This is my biggest Ronarry project, and it'll be sad to be done with it - but the end's a long time coming, and I'm really hopeful it'll meet (or exceed?) my goals for it. You know. by being good. :)

#ask game #tag game #<3

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lunarflux · 1 year ago

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Excerpt from my on-going Malfoy x OC / Hermione x OC fic Wattpad x FFN TLDR synopsis: Twins Io and Aster Visage transfer to Hogwarts at the behest of their uncle who witnessed a Seer prophesize Dumbledore's death. While at Hogwarts, Io catches the eye of Draco Malfoy who's more involved with the prophecy than she knows while Aster fights her desire for Hermione Granger after being torn between keeping her sister safe and holding onto the girl she's grown to love. Excerpt from Chapter 3: Two Blue Flames - Io and Aster attend their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape who has them practice nonverbal spellcasting by dueling other students. Io and Draco test each other's strength, learning they match each other in determination and unspoken attraction.

"Tread carefully, Io." She suddenly sounded serious. "Harry and Draco are two sides of the same coin. Draco's family just got dragged through the mud, and Harry is the reason why. Even if Harry is only a friend... Draco could either think of it as a challenge or as a threat."

"There is no threat, no challenge, and no flirting." They stopped in front of the DADA classroom. "And besides," she pushed the door open, holding it without stepping forward. "Draco doesn't want to talk to me."

"And what makes you say that?" Aster pushed through. "It's only been a day. You should've seen him leaving breakfast right as you did. Even his friends gave it a second look. He's terribly pale, isn't he? Always looks so miserable. Then again, who can blame him? What a rotten year he's had. His father just got sent away to a very horrible place, he's had his and his mother's name plastered all over the Daily Prophet for walking out of the trial, and considering how little sunlight our common room gets, I seriously think he may be anemic."

"You got all that from one day?"

"You're the one trying not to look at him. I, on the other hand," she shrugged. "I have eyes. And so does Draco. He looks at you. Well, he looks at you when he's not sulking. Do you think Hogwarts students fool around every now and again?"

Io paused. "Aster, the entire sixth year just hit puberty."

"So, I take that as a yes?"

The conversation was cut short as Professor Snape entered the room. The room felt dark and gloomy, the walls littered with horrid, graphic paintings of what one might expect at the hands of a curse or something worse. At the corner of her eye, Io spotted the familiar shaggy dark hair of Harry Potter accompanied by Hermione and Ron Weasley. The redhead was impossible to miss.

Aster nudged her sister, noticing someone else. "You've got to be joking. They're all in this class - Draco is here."

The sullen scowl graced the front right corner of the room. It wasn't a surprise that this was his, along with a handful of other Slytherins, baileywick. She could tell just by the looks on their faces and the comfortable slouches that they felt at ease despite Professor Snape's effort to dampen everyone's spirit with his choice of decor.

"It's because this is their first N.E.W.T. year in DADA. D'you think they know we've already taken this exam back at Ilvermorny?"

"I seriously doubt it." Aster huffed, taking a seat in the center row, just a few tables back from the front. "And if Dumbledore did know, there's a reason why he put us in his class. I'll give you two guesses, and the answer rhymes with 'carry water'."

Io sat next to Aster, under the sly gaze of Draco who almost looked pleased to see her.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Professor Snape started his long, very eerie monologue about the perils and uses. The fatal dangers of coming face to face with Inferi. The soul-crushing pain of getting hit with the Cruciatis curse. Among other dreadful sounding curses, most of which were depicted on the walls, Snape laced his words with an authoritative caution, emphasizing the advantage of using nonverbal spells and counter-curses.

Aster found herself smiling as Hermione Granger answered Snape with hesitation despite being confident successfully quoting a line from their textbook. This classroom was a chaotic mix of excitement and fear. It was a playground for the twins, though they did well to hide it.

Uncle Altair taught them about nonverbal spells every year until last. It was paced alongside learning each spell, so that this lesson would not be batched all in one lesson but side-by-side with all the others. It was very beneficial, especially in this situation where no one else had dared to try.

Professor Snape instructed the class to pair up and practice. Aster felt the familiar twinge of excitement, giving her twin a 'good luck' pat on the back as they separated to find a dueling partner.

"Give it a go, Visage." Io stood across from Theo Nott who confidently pointed his wand right between her eyes. "Dueling club doesn't start until next week, and I want to see what you've got."

Without hesitation, Io whipped her wand in his direction, almost emitting a crack in the air like a crisp strike of lightning.

Theo crashed back into the wall, his chest heaving as he slowly slumped onto the cold floor. Io stood up straight, fixing her robes. "Get up, Nott. I'm not going easy on you until you know how to cast without your lips blubbering."

The class filled with snickers and sneers, mostly from the Gryffidnor students who relished in Slytherin house bullying each other for once.

Theo charged forward with weight in his steps. He mimicked Io's wand movement, but only managed to create a weak stun which Io knocked to the floor with her wand arm.

She raised her wand again, making Theo back up two steps, bracing himself. But instead of falling on his back again, his wand shot out of his hand into the air, clanking to the floor near the door to the class.

Snape grabbed Theo by the back of his shirt, dragging him out of the way. "Mr. Nott, I expected more from Slytherin house. Ms. Visage is merely showing off her Pukwudgie ego, but you're lucky she has somehow saved this house from embarrassment." He turned to face Io. "However, rebounding spells and stunning is much more difficult against a skilled hand."

Io thought for a moment that Snape was about to shoot a curse right at her chest but instead he called over a new partner for her.

Draco strutted over to where Snape stood, his wand ready at his side.

Clutching her wand, Io pulled her arm back, but before another crack could ripple through the air, Draco cast his stun, forcing Io back into the table behind her. Her pride dropped with the sound of the table dragging against the floor.

She gathered herself quickly, centering herself. Standing in a direct line across from Draco, she looked up. A menacing stare glazed over her face. "Again."

Draco smiled confidently, his wand arm ready to fire. "Not aggressive enough for you?" A few of the students giggled at his comment, unsure of how to interpret the tension between these two. It could've been described as magnetic - if the magnets were two raging blue flames trying not to join into one.

"I said, again, Draco."

On the opposite side of the room, Harry Potter noticed Io referring to Malfoy by his first name and chalked it up to Slytherin house familiarity. He expected someone like Io to hate Malfoy as much as he did, and he couldn't help but observe with Ron the brief duel happening on that side of the class.

Despite the brief conversation, Harry thought he'd made a friend, knowing fully well those were difficult to come by as the years went on. The girl who he'd had such a gentle conversation with this morning was suddenly this dark force to be feared. He couldn't have imagined having someone like her during the fight at the Ministry last year. The look on her face would've made a Death Eater question who she was, what she knew, and what she was capable of.

Draco started once more, his wand meeting an invisible target at Io's chest, but this time her arm was faster, rebounding the stun into the far wall. As soon as her hand fell, she brought her wand up, whipping around her head like a lasso before casting Incarcerus. The ropes flew through the air in Draco's direction as he hurriedly cast his protection charm.

There was a poetic battle between them, neither giving the other time to recover from casting. Everyone else in the room couldn't help but stop to observe in between their own exercise - Snape included. Io felt the ache setting into her shoulder, but her pride wouldn't allow her to waver, not even for a second. As Draco moved, his blonde locks gradually fell into his face, gently curtoning across his forehead. His eyes were determined, fiery yet playful and clearly amused. He was enjoying this, this kind of interaction didn't need words (nonverbal spells aside). He could feel her rage, her strength. The power in the air around her as she stared straight at him, her icy gray eyes meeting his blue like they were mentally connected. He could predict her moves, and every time she surprised him, he grew more intrigued.

Stepping out of his thoughts, Draco darkened his gaze, stepping forward and casting a particularly strong jinx in Io's direction. The force of Io's protection spell was enough to make his knees buckle.

But she didn't stop there, planting her forward foot down as her hand lashed back down, a roaring fire shooting out of the tip of her wand.

Draco stumbled backwards, his protection charm briefly failing, a flicker of fear disrupting the smirk on his face.

Professor Snape sidestepped in between them, his wand creating a void in between the flames before loudly declaring, "Enough! Sit down, Visage, before you start a fire in my classroom. 20 points to Slytherin."

He looked at the rest of the class who all, by now, were intently staring at the sapphire haired girl who was panting with adrenaline. Io calmed her breaths, walking over to Draco. She held her hand out as a sign of truce. Draco took her hand without comment, his palm was warm as he gripped hers for a second longer than she expected.

"Could almost swear you looked a little scared, Draco." She looked up at him, doing her best to steady herself. "I hope I didn't wear you out too much before lunch."

For the first time, Draco smiled genuinely. This sort of thing made his chest feel funny. Like he found a kindred spirit, though not as dark as his. She wasn't like Pansy, and she was tougher than some of his friends. It was less about impressing him and more about proving they were equals. His smile fell as soon as he realized he was doing it. Still holding her hand, he yanked his arm back, her cheek nearly meeting his shoulder as his lips skimmed the edge of her ear.

"You're going to have to try a little harder to tire me out."

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years ago

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i should hate you | part 8.

Summary: Y/N Lestrange felt like her life was a set-up since birth. The entire school hates her thanks to her mother and father. Worst of all, she finds herself liking a Gryffindor… the one whose parents were tortured by hers.

Warnings for the Series: angst, fluff, some smut

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x black!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You casted your patronus back inside the Hall. Slowly, people poured out to enter the courtyard. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione’s sobs were loud in your ear as they stood next to you. You just shook your head. It was impossible. Harry couldn’t be dead. But the body in Hagrid’s arms said otherwise. Both you and Neville looked down when you heard the clink of metal, going wide-eyed as you saw the handle of the Sword of Gryffindor gleaming inside the Sorting Hat. You looked back at the sight in front of you to see the snake slithering at Voldemort’s feet.

The last thing Harry said to kill. He must’ve gone to kill the snake and found himself dead instead. And now you were all staring at Voldemort, flaunting it in your face that he killed The Boy Who Lived. No one moved when he demanded you join his ranks. You felt eyes from both sides on you and Draco. You just grabbed your cousin’s hand and the two of you retreated into the crowd.

“TRAITOR!” Bellatrix yelled. “Traitors, both of you!”

“No one?” Voldemort asked. “Then you must all pay the price.”

You gasped as Harry dropped from Hagrid’s arm, shouting a spell and running. Voldemort began to follow Harry as you all ran inside to avoid the onslaught of Death Eaters. They were overrunning the castle again. Neville gave you a look and a nod before going to find the snake. You ran back into the Great Hall with Draco to try and stop the Death Eaters from picking off the weak.

Those too injured to fight would later say how they were in awe of you and Draco. Years of dueling around Malfoy Manor didn’t just perfect your craft but made the two of you a well-oiled machine. You stood back to back casting spells, not just in front of you, but behind you in order to protect one another. He knew to duck when you turned. You knew to keep your head stiff as he shot a spell right by your ear. Two parts of a whole is what you two had always been and it was showing as you fought to keep the Great Hall safe.

You heard a shout and saw your mother standing over the Weasleys. Molly was still trying to stop both George and Bill from dying of injuries. Arthur was somewhere fighting with Fred and Charlie, refusing to let any more of his sons fight out of his sight. Draco squeezed your arm and you knew it meant you could leave.

“Verdimillious!” You threw a spell at your mother just as Ginny fell back. “Protego!”

Bellatrix stopped, eyes narrowing as you stepped onto the table. “How dare you betray your mother?”

“How dare you call yourself my mother.”

You and Draco were two parts of a whole. You and your mother? Two sides of the same coin. Even the way you stood to duel was the same. You both gripped your wands in the same fashion. And you both went for offense because this wasn’t just a normal duel, it was a family dispute.

“Crucio!”

“Stupefy!”

The red beams of both spells shot out and collided with each other. Neither was stronger than the other and both beams eventually shattered. You recovered first, throwing your mother back as she was forced to block each of your spells.

“Reducto!” Bellatrix yelled.

“Protego! Sectumsempra!”

You fell back at the same time she did. You were going to be sick. Draco pulled you back and shielded your eyes. Black smoke columns started to erupt once again. Neville came in, throwing down a bloodied sword.

“He’s dead. Harry just ended him.”

So you all knew the black smoke wasn’t a second retreat. It was fleeing. But the battle was over. You sighed knowing it was all over. The next hours were painful. Harry gave McGonagall the Elder Wand to fix Hogwarts, able to do it surprisingly fast. All the faculty was working to send patronuses to parents and the dead were collected as you listened to families crying.

McGonagall made the announcement after you had collected the younger students and escorted them back to the Hall. After being repaired, Hogwarts was closing a little early this year. It was ending completely early for the younger ones. They were to pack and be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. The house-elves would deliver meals to each individual common room. It was recommended everyone stay in their House for the day. Grieve together, be there for each other.

You shuffled with everyone else to your Houses. Fingers interlaced with yours and you pulled them along as you kept walking. You and Neville were silent as you cleaned off in the bathrooms and still didn’t speak once locking yourself in your room. The day didn’t need words. It needed a reprieve. Neville grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. You moaned as his lips found your neck, sucking harshly while leading you to the bed. You were a little surprised he didn’t move your hands when you cupped his face as he returned to your lips. His hand slipped between your legs. It was slower than it had ever been before. The kiss slowed down too.

“That feel good, Petal?”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. He never really asked before, usually just spewed praises of how well you were taking him or how good you felt. Neville took his sweet time getting you ready before pushing himself into you. You both groaned. His head fell to your shoulder as he snapped his hips. He kissed you softly when he started to falter, both of you finishing at the same time. That wasn’t the only time it happened that day. Your door had only opened to get food, Neville going since he could get away with just wearing sweatpants. You both fell asleep pretty early but so did the rest of the castle.

Morning brought the second unexpected thing. Neville pecked your lips as he whispered ‘good morning’, voice still laced with sleep. You buried your head in his shoulder, greeting him back before getting up. Neville watched you get dressed. School was done. There was no need for a uniform. So you slipped on what muggles called ‘mom jeans’ that you bought some time ago and grabbed Neville’s button-up.

“I’ve got to go,” you said.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” he said as he bit his bottom lip.

You were going to make him have to leave in just his cardigan with no shirt underneath but he wasn’t going to stop you from wearing his stuff. He got up moments later and got dressed himself. He would properly get ready when he got back to Gryffindor. Neville came around the corner after reaching the ground floor from the Slytherin dungeons, stopping when he saw you sitting with Draco. Your cousin sighed.

“Why are you still seeing Longbottom?”

“Draco—”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, you’re being used.”

“I know.”

“He’s jus— you know?”

You nodded. Draco leaned back before sitting up again.

“Do you like it?” He asked carefully. “(Y/N), do you like it?”

Your cousin reached for your hand when you got up. Draco’s jaw clenched.

“Is he forcing you?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Neville would never, I’m letting him.”

He stood up and pulled you into a death grip. You could feel the anger rolling off of him. It didn’t calm down even after you started to hug him back— it probably got worse.

“He’s the only one who’s there for me,” you said. “The only person besides you.”

“Screw him and this entire school.”

“No one came to check on me after Harry hurt you but him. No one cared that you almost died, that Harry almost killed you… Neville actually showed up.”

“So, he gets to keep using you as his plaything?”

“I can’t lose him,” you whispered. “He was the first person who said he didn’t hate me, only one who doesn’t. I still feel safe when he’s holding me.”

“Is that before or after he gets to do whatever he wants with you?”

“I don’t want him to hate me.”

That was all you could say. You weren’t about to dive into your sex life with Draco but figured he could understand enough. You looked up when you thought you heard your cousin crying. Draco rested his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I shouldn’t have begged you to stay after second year. I should’ve let you go to Beauxbatons. Merlin, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“You wouldn’t be here now, you’d be happy.”

“And leave you here by yourself to face everyone? We were scared, lonely, and twelve. I don’t think you had to beg, Draco. I probably wouldn’t have been able to leave when the time came.”

He finally let go of you. You told him it was fine and he let you go since it was your shift to help get the younger kids home. The seventh and fifth years were cramming to take their exams while the younger kids were being sent home right away. As a prefect and because you volunteered, it was your job to sit in the Hall and make sure all parents got to the correct kids. McGonagall didn’t want to use the train. She was too on edge to lose any more children. She already could barely contain herself when she had to redirect certain parents who had come by earlier to collect their kids’ bodies to her office where they could get the stuff left behind. You sat on a table with all the little muggleborn first years around you. You were all eating lunch as they got checked out— the process was slow and long.

“Is You-Know-Who really gone?” One of them asked.

“Yeah, and I think we’ll have a right and boring school year next year. The way it should be.”

They all sighed in relief and nodded in agreement. You checked their names off as their parents showed up— having been escorted by seventh years who apparated to them and helped them navigate the Floo Network.

“Jerome Griffith, Ravenclaw.” You checked off. “Alright, last one. You’re free to go, bud.”

You handed the parchment of names to McGonagall. She thanked you for helping and excused you to leave. Without exams, sixth years were welcome to leave with the babies or stay with fifth and seventh year until the school year was officially over. You and Draco were staying because there was still a lot to work out in your household. Lucius was back in Azkaban while Narcissa was on trial. Your parents were both officially dead.

Going back home just felt weird at the moment. You two weren’t even sure if you could really call Malfoy Manor home anymore. There was nothing to do and the Great Hall wasn’t serving dinner for at least another hour and a half so you aimlessly wandered the school grounds. You didn’t have grapes or sugar cane on you but went to the forest anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time you had a failed unicorn search— although the last one you could remember was when you were fourteen.

The Forbidden Forest in the middle of the day and with evil defeated wasn’t even mildly terrifying. Any dark creatures retreated far into the forest, further in than you would ever go. You paused as you spotted a unicorn. The tail marking was different from the other two you spotted last year. So this was a new one. Although, you couldn’t be sure if it was from the same herd or not. You had nothing to give so you just held out a hand and hoped it would come near. The large creature carefully made its way over. You held your breath as it sniffed and licked your hand. A smile crossed your face when it moved closer and allowed you to pet it.

“You’re gorgeous,” you cooed at the beast. “I’ll bring you food next time, I promise.”

It snorted and you didn’t know if that meant yes or if it didn’t believe you. The unicorn abruptly looked up before moving out of your arms and galloping away. You turned to see Neville whose shoulders were up to his ears as he froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was trying not to scare it away.”

“It’s fine,” you said as you made your way over. “They forever don’t like wizards.”

“I… do you want to go to Hogsmeade?”

You blinked. “I, yes, yeah. Let me just get my pur—”

“It’s fine, I got it.”

You nodded and started to walk with him. Neville reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. The two of you walked through the little village. You went to Hog’s Head to eat instead of Three Broomsticks. Neville noticed you pause when you saw all the people in the window but urged you inside. His heart broke when he felt you clutch his hand as you looked at everyone. Harry cleared his throat.

“I never apologized for what I did. I’m sorry for almost killing Draco and I’m sorry for ever putting you through that pain. It wasn’t right and won’t ever be okay. I hope you can forgive me one day. I’m seriously sorry.”

Hermione went next. “I’m sorry for saying you couldn’t be trusted and pointing my wand at you more than once. You’ve honestly been nothing but helpful to us even if we weren’t the same. Sorry.”

Ron moved his arm from around Hermione in order to be more serious. “We would have lost without your help… I’m sorry for telling you to shove off every chance I got. You’re actually really cool, Lestrange, I mean (Y/N). I don’t think any of us hate you.”

After the Golden Trio, one by one your classmates started apologizing. You were choking out cathartic sobs as they each went. Everyone sort of hung their head down if they weren’t speaking once you had started crying. Six years of torment was physically showing up and they had to witness what they put you through. It was uncomfortable and painful to see how hurt you had been. And aside from a few moments, you had never let it slip that it was this hard.

When Neville gathered them all, they figured it was easy enough. They could apologize for what they did wrong. It was just some name calling and ignoring over the years. But seeing how you almost tried to hide behind Neville when Harry just opened his mouth made them realize it was a lot more. They felt awful because you were afraid and still helped him with what he needed to stop Voldemort. You had always been helping people with whatever they needed. The thought of your unicorn patronus swam through everyone’s mind followed by the second thought of they broke a pure heart.

Neville gave them all a nod and you left with him. He rubbed your back as you cried all the way back to Hogwarts. You only stopped when you made it to Gryffindor because it felt like you just physically couldn’t cry anymore. Neville sat you down on the bed and unlaced your shoes for you.

“I’m so sorry for everything. You aren’t a plaything, (Y/N). I never should’ve treated you like that even when it was just snogging. I was scared of it being a trick and I jumped to conclusions that you were like the rest of your House, like your parents. None of that’s an excuse, though. I’m sorry and I don’t think I can ever say it enough to make up for what’s happened.”

“It’s—”

“It’s not okay. It was never okay, you don’t do that to someone you love.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. He grabbed your hands.

“It’s not just that I don’t hate you. I love you, I’m in love with you, (Y/N). And you don’t have to say anything. I know I haven’t earned it from you but I’m going to try my hardest to deserve it one day. Okay, Petal?”

It sounded sweet again.

“Okay,” you said barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to go downstairs and eat? I can bring something up from the kitchens too.”

“Can we stay here and cuddle… just cuddle?”

His heart shattered for a second time at the fact that you felt you had to ask for him to just cuddle with you and nothing more.

“Just cuddling,” he assured you. “I won’t ever touch you another way again until you want me to.”

You relaxed in his arms and the both of you lay there in silence. Neville grabbed his book off the nightstand and started reading to you. Somewhere between the end of the first chapter and the middle of the second one, you had fallen asleep. From the reading, crying, anemia, or mix of all three, he couldn’t tell. You sighed a bit, still in slumber, as Neville rubbed your back. His friends came in, immediately shutting up when he pointed to you. They lowered the volume so you could keep sleeping as they talked. The topic of conversation switched to you. Seamus sighed.

“We really fucked up, fucked her up.”

Harry looked over. “After Malfoy happened, I’ve never seen someone look the way she did. Just terror, nothing else… six years and she put up with it?”

“She didn’t just put up with it, she kept trying to be friends.”

They got quiet as you stirred. Neville looked down when you kept moving. Your face was twisted up in anguish. He began to shake you gently awake. Your eyes flashed open and he held onto you.

“Was just a bad dream, Petal, you’re alright… what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore. They’ll just hate me tomorrow.”

The room got silent. Neville held you tighter. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have everyone’s apologies disappear. They would hate you again at a moment’s notice, you were sure of it.

You sighed and just fell back asleep. Draco was fine now. He would be fine, no one else would bother him next school year. What else was there for you to watch out for? You two weren’t snotty nosed eleven year olds anymore. You no longer needed each other to survive when you retreated into your shell and he put on his arrogant act to please Lucius. Draco had cared about you with his entire being and you did the same all the way up until you were both almost adults so there was no need anymore for you to keep trying.

Neville wiped at his eyes and the other boys still couldn’t speak. They had done this. All of them, all the students. And they weren’t sure if there was a way or enough time to fix it. They just stared at each other as you turned in Neville’s arms. He kissed the top of your head and slowly fell asleep himself— the others followed quickly after.

(end)...

#neville longbottom x reader

93 notes · View notes

potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

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theghost-russo · 3 years ago

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Creatures - m!sonreader x FatherHagrid

Summary --> Y/N ( the son of hagrid) helping his pops take care of a creature he found.

WARNINGS: slight mention of animal death, not so great writing.

PAIRINGS: M!reader x Hagrid [son × father] Platonic!!

Ever since you have been going to hogwarts Hagrids been asking you to help him with some creatures.

He has been asking you for help for a couple months, the only reason you keep saying no is cause you dont want to get too attached to the creatures.

You've been debating on actualy saying yes but youre still scared if the animals are just going to die. After all your still trying to get over what happend last time.

But today you're going to get over your fears and say yes.

Youre last class was charms and then once thats over you could go to your dads hut and ask him yourself

While you were there practacing a random spell you start to think

What if he doesn't need help anymore..?

Should i even ask him...

What if im no good...

While lost in thought, you didint realize that you just completely stoped trying to practice the spell

"Hey, you alright 'mate?"

You turned to see Ron looking at you with a confused look

" Oh, yea im fine, what spell are we doing again?"

You asked him hoping that he wont ask again

"Gonna be honest... dont know myself. Was going to ask you but should we ask Harry?"

But before you could respond Proffesor Flitwick called Rons name, aswell as yours.

"Weasly, L/N do you think you can show us how to cast the spell?"

You both looked at eachother then back at the Proffesor who was waiting for an answer.

It was quiet for a bit before Ron asked wich spell it was

The professor sighed and just said it was Reducio and to pay more attention.

After the class was over you said bye to your friends and went to your dads hut

When you were about to nock on the door you hear a noise, you look around the house to find nothing

When you nocked on the door your dad says to come in and you walk into the house to see him looking into a box

"Dad whats in the box?"

You ask while walking closer

"Its a Niffler i found outside wandering, little fella was hurt so i brought her here"

You looked into the box and saw a little niffler with a bandage on its leg.

" 'Yer wanna help me take care of her?"

"Yes!"

You answered quickly while staring back at the niffler who was staring right back at you

"Well, you got lots to learn about these guys to take care of 'em well"

You tried petting it but it almost bit your finger, but you tried again did the same thing

" 'Yer gotta get its trust to pet 'em first"

"Hmm.. i remember reading that they like shiny things, we could give it a coin"

You said while looking at your dad then looking around the hut

"Yer right, check that bag infront of the window. 'Yer should find some.

You went through the bag to find 10 coins, you took out 6 coins and went back to the niffler

"Is 6 coins enough for it?"

You asked looking at your dad whos smiling

"Yep, just perfect for 'em, put it in the corner of the box the Niffler will pick it up"

You put it in the corner and just waited to see if it would pick it up

You heard your dad chuckle and tell you that your scaring it

" 'Yer should head back to your dorm its getting late"

"Aww, why cant i stay for a bit longer!"

You said wanting to stay with the fluffy creature

You didint want to get in truble so you gave up easly

You huged your dad goodbye and said by to the Niffler while walking outside

The end.. or not idk

#male reader #harry potter #trans reader #hagrid #hp fanart #ftm reader #son reader #ron weasley

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seriouslysnape · 4 years ago

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HIii! I was wondering if you could write something Fred (6th/7th year) x Gryffindor Reader (i know u dont usually write him) maybe something where reader and fred are best friends and shes in love with him but she thinks he dosent like her that way with a fuffy ending? maybe some angst not too much tho thank youuu <3 if you dont want to write fred (😭) you can write it for lupin (6th/7th year)

His Favorite Girl

Fred Weasley x Gryffindor! Reader

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 3,430

“Woah. Guess I had more to drink than I thought.”

The Gryffindor common room. An ever changing space for all Gryffindor students to unwind, study, or party, depending on the occasion. The common room was always crowded from wall to wall after a Quidditch match, especially when Gryffindor reigned victorious. The players all filed in, bursting with good energy and an itch to celebrate their win. Oliver Wood exploded inside first with an unmistakably beaming smile spreading across his face.

The Gryffindor students who hadn’t been able to make it to watch the match automatically knew that they had won based on Oliver’s visible jubilant mood. You were one of the unfortunate ones that hadn’t been able to make it, but you knew that the team would bring the party to you. The Weasley twins came bopping in next, George carrying a very happy Harry Potter on his shoulders. Harry leapt off of George’s shoulders before the tall twin could knock him into the top of the doorframe.

Your sights automatically set on the other Weasley twin. Fred was beaming with delight at their impressive win. Fred was damn proud to be a Gryffindor, and beating the brakes off of Slytherin was one of his favorite pastimes. He couldn’t be any happier at this moment. It warmed your heart to see him so joyful and full of glee.

You raked over his tall, slender yet muscular frame. His signature red hair was damp with sweat and parts of his face were caked with dirt.

Fred caught your stare, his smile never leaving his face as he gave you a friendly wink. You closed the Potions book in your lap, getting up from the sofa with a silent hope that your thumping heartbeat wasn’t obvious to anyone.

It was a hard thing to do. Keeping your ever growing crush and admiration for Fred Weasley under wraps was becoming more and more difficult as time went on. The seemingly simple solution (as all of your friends had told you) to do would be to “just tell him” how you felt. But it was MUCH easier said than done.

There were so many things that could possibly go wrong if you were to confess your feelings to Fred. You would be running the risk of ruining a beautiful friendship that had done nothing but blossom over the last seven years if he didn’t share that same admiration. You didn’t want to lose your best friend just because your heart felt differently than his.

At the same time, you wanted to tell him every scrap and ounce of how your soul felt lost without him. There had been a few times over the years where you had an opportunity to lay your heart out on the line for him. Each time you had this heavy feeling in your chest letting you know you needed to make a move.

You built up the courage each time, but were interrupted by George or another one of your friends before you could bite the bullet. You knew it wasn’t healthy to keep this holed away in yourself. Your love would only grow more. The more days that passed, the more you began to wonder how different your life would be if you never told him. Not to mention that graduation was only a few months away, and there was always the risk of losing contact with him when you went separate ways.

That is, IF you were to go separate ways.

On the other side of the coin, there was always a chance that Fred possibly did harbor the same admiration for you. That would totally change things in the long run. The idea of starting a romantic relationship, possibly getting married, and having a family was nothing short of perfect.

But you had to get to that point first.

Everyone rallied around Harry, shaking him excitedly and singing their praises to him for his incredible Snitch catch. Suddenly, blaring and thunderous chatter filled the common room as more exhilarated students piled in. Within the hour, a sea of Gryffindors occupied the room, complete with blasting music and an ungodly amount of alcohol.

Oliver had gathered a crowd of first years in one corner of the common room as he retold every solitary second of the match from his point of view, starting from the very beginning. The wide eyed first year wizards and witches were on the edge of their seats as they listened to his story, some of them beginning to wonder if they had what it took to be great Quidditch players.

On the other side of the room, you were settled once again on the sofa with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, who were seated in the arm chairs across from you. They were exhausted from playing all day, but that didn’t stop them from engaging in some girl talk.

Alicia and Katie were your dearest friends, and they were the only ones who knew about your crush on Fred. A crush that had quite honestly evolved into something much more. They were always keeping an ear out to see if Fred said anything remotely leading them to believe that he might like you back. As surprising as it was, Fred never really outwardly spoke about his romantic side.

Speaking of, Fred and George were in another corner of the room with Harry and Ron, doing God only knows what. Fred was considerably tipsy, but nothing even close to plastered. You had seen Fred drunk before, and needless to say, it was a hysterical sight.

“So, [Y/N],” Alicia spoke up, her dark skin looking extra glowy from the fire roaring in the fireplace; “Fred was awfully excited to come back to tell you that we won.”

Katie perked up, her head lifting from where it had been leaning on the back of the chair.

“Yeah! The first thing that he told George was that he couldn’t wait to tell you the news. Although, I guess Oliver kind of told everyone before Fred had the chance.”

“Really? He said that?” You asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Alicia nodded vigorously, gripping Katie’s forearm with elation. Alicia and Katie had never tried to set the two of you up, mainly because you had begged them not to. That didn’t stop them from trying to be the ultimate wingwomen. They believed that you and Fred would be a stellar couple. They were convinced you were made for one another.

They both feared that you’d never make an attempt to make it happen.

“He sure did. I heard him myself.” Katie replied.

Alicia glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward closer to you. Her voice was quiet, loud enough so only you and Katie could hear as she spoke.

“Graduation is coming up quickly. You’ve got to tell him.” She advised.

You sighed heavily. If you had a galleon for every time one of them had told you that, you’d be a wealthy woman. They just didn’t seem to get that it just isn’t that easy. You wouldn’t deny that proclaiming your deepest secret to someone didn’t scare you. It was terrifying to offer your heart and soul to someone, even when you knew that they might get broken as a result. You didn’t want to live with a broken heart.

But you didn’t want to live always asking yourself “what if”.

Before you could respond, a figure plopped themself next to you, his familiar scent sending flutters all through you. Fred basically snuggled up next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Despite the fact that you weren’t dating, Fred was comfortable enough with you to get extremely close, which didn’t help your situation at all.

Alicia and Katie held down their snickers and giggles at how you were clearly flustered. You tried not to wriggle too much under Fred’s hold, and draw any attention to yourself. He was your best friend, and you knew how to play it cool when he was around.

“Hi, [Y/N].” Fred slurred loudly over the noise.

You laughed softly at the smell of Firewhiskey that was radiating off of him. You weren’t much of a drinker, but you’d have a drink with Fred from time to time.

“Hey, Fred. Congratulations on the match.” You complimented.

Fred grinned proudly, looking down at your slumped body. His eyes were beginning to glaze over from the alcohol, but he looked as sober as ever. He had a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t identify.

“Thanks. Those bloody Slytherins got what they deserved.” He stated.

“Oliver seems over the moon with how it went.” You remarked, smiling as you looked behind you to see Oliver now standing on a table as he continued telling his thrilling tale.

When you turned back to Fred, you couldn’t help but notice how Fred hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. The butterflies in your belly were going totally bananas now. His gaze did eventually shift to the Potions book that was placed next to your feet, and he let out a guttural sound. He reached for it, noting that it had obviously been put to good use in the last several hours.

“Have you been studying?” He questioned, holding the book in his hand.

You sheepishly nodded, aimlessly reaching for the textbook. An offended look crossed Fred’s face as he held the book far out of your reach. Damn his long arms.

“I have a test on Monday. Advanced Potions is kicking my ass this year and I’ve just barely been getting by so I have to study extra time.” You expressed, laughing at your fruitless attempt to get the book back.

His sharp jaw fell open a tad and he stretched back even further to ensure you didn’t get the book back for now.

“You’re kidding me. I missed my favorite girl at the match because she was stuck in the common room studying for a TEST?” He acquired, not even aware of the weight behind his choice of words.

You felt your smile fade into more of a bashful expression. Your body slinked back into the cushions, forgetting all about the book. His words rang in your word.

Favorite girl.

Fred Weasley’s favorite girl.

Alicia and Katie were both wide eyed and jaw dropped at what he had just said. They were looking back and forth between the two of you like they were at an intense tennis match.

Fred was so aloof and oblivious to the fact that he had literally just melted your heart with a single sentence. You spent so much time with Fred that you just didn’t understand how he couldn’t see it.

Fred knew you backwards and forwards. He could see straight through you when you were lying or when you were sad, but claiming you were fine. He always remembered your favorite treats from Honeydukes and how you liked hot Butterbeer on cold winter nights. It made him happy to hear you talk about your favorite Muggle novels or tell him about something funny that happened in McGonagall’s class. He knew you better than anyone.

But why couldn’t he see the way you were yearning for him?

“You missed me?” You asked, shrinking even further into the cushions.

Fred looked at you as if that were the dumbest question he had ever been graced with. He lowered his arm at your sudden demeanor change, gently putting the book in your hand. Alicia and Katie leaned in carefully, eager to see where this conversation was going. Much to their disappointment, Fred didn’t get a chance to answer due to another member joining you on the couch.

George landed less gracefully than Fred had, basically landing on top of you and smothering you. Your shrieks were muffled in George’s Quidditch robes, Fred wrestling his brother off of you.

“Hey! George, get off of her.” He grunted, heaving his brother’s very limp body off of you.

Alicia threw her hands up in defeat at the interruption, Katie falling back into her chair. So close, yet so far. You gasped for air as George fell on the open seat next to Fred. George was way further gone than Fred. He was barely even able to keep his eyes open, let alone get any real, complete thought across.

“Nice timing, George.” Katie said sarcastically.

You gave her a menacing look, not wanting her to bring it up. George snorted, and his sentence came out more as one incoherent word.

“Did I interrupt something important?” He heavily slurred between hiccups.

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to George to ruin this for you. You were discouraged that your chance had been shot down once again, but it wasn’t George’s fault. You were just glad to see your friends in such high spirits. Soon enough, the rest of the party goers had crowded towards the center of the room where you were. The party raged on well into the night, a complete celebration with dancing, singing, and more drinking.

As easily as the party could’ve carried on and on, eventually the famed players’ exhaustion caught up with them and they all slowly dwindled down and sauntered off to their respective dorm rooms. You hugged Alicia and Katie goodnight, knowing they’d be passed out in their beds by the time you got up to your dorm room.

You spoke to Harry and Ron for a bit, giving Harry a friendly kiss on the top of his head for his winning catch. His pasty white cheeks went red as he and Ron retreated to their room in a fit of blushy giggles. That left just you and the twins in the common room that was now completely trashed. Empty cups and half spilled bottles of alcohol were scattered about, people even leaving behind some of their school stuff to be recollected in the morning.

George was a mumbling, intoxicated mess. He was close to falling asleep, and Fred wanted to get him to bed before he was completely unable to stand up. You’d be up for a while cleaning up the common room. You always hated leaving a room knowing it was messy, so you didn’t mind picking up after everyone. Fred knew you’d stay behind to clean up, but he didn’t want you to have to do it alone. He draped his babbling twin over his shoulders, grimacing at how George was usually heavier when he was drunk.

“I’m going to run George upstairs and then I’ll be back to lend you a hand.” He smiled, ignoring the things that George was trying to say to him.

“You don’t have to. I can handle it.” You said, tossing a handful of cups away.

“I know you can. I just don’t want you to be lonely is all.” He said, turning on his heel and marching up the boys’ dormitory stairs with George.

You felt a warm flush course through you at his words once more. You weren’t sure why you were extra sensitive to him tonight. Sure enough, Fred returned a few minutes later, almost stumbling into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. You both laughed as he gave a witty comment.

“Woah. Guess I had more to drink than I thought.” He said, walking into the room once he steadied himself.

“Is George okay?” You asked, accepting the pile of empty bottles that Fred placed into your trash bag.

You usually hand cleaned for the first few minutes, but would eventually grow bored and cast a spell from your wand to finish the work. It was seldom that the common room was this quiet, so you liked to bask in the silence for a little after there was a party.

Fred scoffed with a nod.

“Oh, yeah. He’ll be fine. Nasty hangover in the morning, but there’s a potion for that.”

As usual, the two of you were tired of cleaning, so you waved your wand with a quick cleaning charm. You both watched in amazement as the trash and everything else whisked around the room into trash bins, leaving the room spotless. You put your wand in your back pocket with a satisfied hum. Usually, this would be the time where you went to bed, but you were getting that familiar heavy feeling in your chest.

It immediately dawned on you that you had a perfect chance here. No one was around, and no one would be around for more than enough time.

“You want to sit and chat for a bit?” Fred questioned, noticing your dazed look; “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

The fireplace was still occupied with a cozy warm fire, which was very inviting. You nodded, following Fred to the same couch you had been on earlier. The common room was beyond peaceful now, your head almost lulling onto Fred’s shoulder in relaxation.

Oddly enough, you weren’t freaked out now. In all the past times you had tried to do this, you were a jittery mess and could barely get a word out without stuttering. You felt so at ease now, as if this was something you did often. You hadn’t even had a drop of alcohol tonight, so you couldn’t blame it on that.

“So what’s up?” Fred questioned after you didn’t initiate a conversation.

He had unknowingly opened a door that you knew you had to take. It was now or never.

“I’m just thinking about some things.” You admitted.

Fred’s curiosity was sparked now. He was always interested and willing to hear what was going on in your mind.

“What kind of things?” He pressed on.

Your sights were set on the flames in front of you, causing you to miss the way that Fred was looking at you with such fondness and care. He was cherishing every passing second of this moment.

“You and me.” You confessed.

Fred was filling with anticipation, not sure where you were going with this. He raised a brow.

“What about us?” He replied.

You took a breath.

“Fred, what did you mean when you said I was your favorite girl?” You queried.

Fred looked into your eyes that were peering up at him in a puppy-like way. He noticed that you were expecting an answer. Fred, as confident as ever, responded with a voice like butter, his accent a little thicker.

“Because you’re my favorite person in the world.” He revealed.

Your heart caught in your throat and your breathing hitched. So far so good.

“I am?” You asked to confirm

Fred’s arm that was around you pulled you in closer. You were being flooded with such a sense of intimacy that it was overwhelming. Your nose was level with his chin, and you were so close to his face that you swore you could hear the blood flowing through his face. Fred knew what was happening now, and he was ecstatic about it. He had wanted you all along, but never knew how’d you’d react. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare you off.

He thought about all the times he had seen you upset, and how it hurt him when you were pained with something. He always wished for nothing but happiness for you. He didn’t want to ruin things because of how he felt.

But now he was sure that you’d be here to stay.

“Absolutely you are. You’re all I ever think about.” He whispered, stroking your face with the side of his thumb that was wrapped around you.

This didn’t feel real, but felt all too real at the same time.

“Why are you whispering?” You smiled softly, whispering back to him.

He smirked, and whispered again.

“Because I want you to know how much I love you.”

A cannon of confetti seemingly exploded all throughout your body. Shock, desire, lust, love, want, everything went through you all at once. This wasn’t at all how you had imagined this happening, but you were happy that it did. It was very fitting for the two of you.

“Kiss me.” You whispered once more.

He lowered his head and his lips caught yours in a feverish way. All the pent up feelings from the last 6 years all loaded themselves into the kiss. It was a huge weight off of your shoulders.

“I love you,” You professed once Fred pulled away; “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to tell you that.”

Fred chuckled lightly, responding before kissing you again.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

#fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley blurb #fred weasley fluff #Harry Potter #harry potter fred weasley #seriouslysnape

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

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*Harry looked at his mother."Stay close to me," he said quietly.* Could you write something about Harry having this moment with Lily, but in your world where Jily lives? Perhaps after Dumbledore's death, or at the end of the War, after Voldemort died. I don't know, I feel that Harry would be very attached to his mother in these important moments, and maybe if you want, your world where Jily lives is just perfect <3

Hey! Thank you so much for this prompt @sweeethinny! I love writing Lily and Harry’s moments together and this one is so special in the books!

Now, in the world I imagine, there are actually few moments that Harry needs his mother and she isn’t there. Then I thought about Voldemort’s ressurrection and the duel after, because this version of Priori Incantatem would have no James or Lily appearing. So Harry is alone... and he really needs his mother afterwards.

And then I finally wrote a version of the Third Task through Lily’s eyes, which is pure angst, really, but full of Lily’s mother love.

It’s on AO3 or below:

Their hug is so fleeting that Lily wonders if that moment will haunt her later.

She admonishes herself for ever thinking about that. Nothing will happen; it’s the Third Task and soon, whether Harry wins or not, this damn tournament will be over.

So for now, she hugs Harry but lets him go quickly, knowing he feels embarrassed of being hugged in public, and watches as James slids his hand fondly through Harry’s hair to mess it as much as he can. Harry smiles at them, nervous and a little excited too, and then he leaves them with the other champions.

James squeezes her hand as they sit again at the table, though neither is hungry anymore. In front of them, Hermione gives her a comforting smile, while Ron shakes his head.

‘Wanna bet he will end up winning this thing after all?’, he asks, turning to his brothers. Lily watches as they start betting on how long it will take for Harry to get out of the maze with the Cup in his hand, coins passing through their hands.

Her heart fills with a warm glee. They are betting on Harry. Never against him.

They walk to the Quidditch Field, James and Ron complaining about the mess they’ve made in the field and discussing how it will be the next season, how much Harry will need to train in the Summer for making up for the year he lost without any match.

‘He caught an egg dragon’, Ginny notes brightly, right next to Hermione. ‘What is a Golden Snitch after that?’

They laugh and Lily lets that sound warm her too; she has been shivering ever since they left the castle, though the summer night is warm. There is just something in the air tonight that makes her feel ill. A calm before the storm, with just the wind announcing the change that will come.

It’s probably just the nervousness. She couldn’t show to Harry, during their free day at Hogwarts, how apprehensive she was, but now her nerves are probably catching on with her. These tasks seemed so dangerous after all, and Harry is still so young…

The air around her is calmer than in the other tasks, however. People are talking excitedly, everyone wondering who will be the champion; now and then, even amongst students of other schools, she hears Harry’s name. He was the underdog, but now he is a favourite - not because of being the Boy-Who-Lived, but because of his achievements so far. First with that dragon, with the way Harry had flown nearly perfect, acting smart and dancing around it, much better than his parents’ original suggestion of attacking it in the eye; and then, during that boring Second Task, when it was announced that Harry had taken longer only because he was worried about all other hostages, not just his.

Lily had been worried with his delay, but she had no heart to chide him later. He was never in danger after all, and Harry was just being his usual selfless; he always had a tendency to defend others. Lily could not complain about her son being a fair player.

‘He will be okay’, James whispers to her as they take their places at the stands, and Lily forces herself to smile.

The sound of the whistle, marking the beginning of the Third Task, makes her jump, but with all the noise and confusion around her, no one seems to notice it. That’s better. She doesn’t need to infect her worries with others.

There doesn’t seem to be anything for her to worry, though. The first hour passes quickly. They can’t see anything inside the maze, but Bagman provides a few commentaries about what the champions have just faced - a boggart, an acromantula, a hole in the ground, blast-ended skrewts (though Lily is not sure she knows that), a disorientation fog, riddles, giant snakes.

And then it’s announced that the Beauxbatons champion is out. Lily remembers seeing that beautiful girl and wonders what happened to her, feels sorry she had to leave.

Ten minutes later, when Bagman announces the Durmstrang champion has left too, the crowd explodes in glee and noises around her. Now it’s only Harry and the Diggory boy on the run, which means a Hogwarts’ win in any case.

And now, for the first time, so close to the end, Lily really wonders how it would be if Harry really wins the tournament, instead of just surviving it. She can see the way he would beam, surprised and proud, how he would raise the cup and people would cheer around him; how Harry would be really happy because he won on his merits, and not because of something he did when he was one-year-old. That would be Harry’s victory, only his.

James will make sure to keep the cup in the middle of their living room; he will tell everyone how his son just won the Triwizard Tournament (‘and all the other champions were already of age, but Harry did not let that scare him, he fought bravely and won all the tasks! My son! Triwizard Champion!’).

And Lily can’t help but think that it’s her son, the son of a muggleborn witch, who will win the most traditional tournament, and what this means to her and other people like her. Oh, she will not mind gloating about this for once.

But the minutes go on, and there are no more announcements, Bagman’s voice silent and the excitement from the crowd is turning into whispers, questions, worries.

There is something wrong, Lily thinks, and she doesn’t need to say out loud because now not even James is frowning, quiet.

There is a commotion in the field, a bright colourful light that lasts for a second (‘Was that a portkey?’, James asks, confused), then she watches Dumbledore and the Minister rushing forward, but she can’t really see anything else. Then the whispers begin, those same words repeated in a crescendo as more people know about it and pass it on, a deadly song.

‘He is dead. Dead!’

She holds James’ hand as not to fall now. Everything is dark around her, and Lily is in a nightmare she can’t wake up, thinking of that last fleeting hug she gave on Harry; she should have hugged him more, refusing to let him leave the safety of her arms for the unknown. Why did she let him go? She feels the fire of the dragon burning her skin alive, the coldness of the deep of the lake and the still air of the maze that Harry entered to never come out -

‘Cedric Diggory! Dead!’

And it’s the first breath of air as she leaves that horrible nightmare, a relief beyond words, a lightness that comes to her as Lily understands it is not Harry that died…

Then it is guilt, a horrible feeling of being the worst person on the planet, because how can she be happy that someone else is dead? How can she actually smile when another parent will mourn their child today?

But there is no easy answer, no trying to understand what happened, just a primal urge to get to Harry and to make sure her son is safe.

She will worry about everything else later.

________________

‘Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything’. Dumbledore is saying, looking at them all, and Lily knows what he will ask even before he says it.

She glances at Harry instead.

His face is pale, his eyes more troubled than a fourteen-year-old should have the right to be, and yet she can see he is watching everything with attention. He is trying to understand what is happening right now, as if witnessing Voldemort’s return and the crazy lunatics of that fake Mad-Eye Moody was not enough.

He needs to sleep - a dreamless sleep so he can begin to recover, as hard as that it will be.

Dumbledore turns first to Snape, asking him to do something if he is ready, and from the corner of her eyes Lily sees Snape’s eyes flickering briefly in her direction. She pretends not to have noticed it, as she has done every time they happened to meet before - it is easy because most of the time Snape doesn’t even seem to be able to look at her. And tonight she has more pressing things in her mind than an old friendship.

She knows Dumbledore will turn to her and James as soon as Snape leaves the room.

And he does, asking for their help to gather the old gang. The Order of the Phoenix.

Lily thinks of everyone that won’t be there for this second time and tries not to let this crush her heart. She doesn’t have time for old grieves today either. Harry needs her.

And, by God, how he needs. She sees the bandages in his arm, in his head; there are dark spots under his eyes, giving him a spooky look - he slept so little before he was awakened with the cries in the hall. And now the world he knows is falling around him, even if he doesn’t understand the full extension yet…

Everything will change now.

‘I will go’, James says softly, and Lily sees him watching her and Harry. James looks somber, much more than she has seen him in the last thirteen years, with that expression she didn’t really miss: the face of a soldier that was getting in a war he didn’t want to, but he would because he believed in everything he was fighting for.

She doesn’t want him to go, but someone has to, Lily knows. It is very important that people know the truth before it can be muffled, and they need to be ready. They need as much advantage as they can get.

Still, the idea of being away from James right now hurts her almost physically, an old familiar feeling of the unknowns that a war brings.

‘But… Dad…’, Harry’s voice is weak, but it is his tone that scares Lily. Harry sounds afraid for the first time that night - as if he too understands the possibility that James will walk off the door and not return.

She thinks of Cedric Diggory. His parents watched him enter a maze and he never returned. She can’t promise safety for Harry, not anymore; his trust in it has been broken forever.

He has faced death now.

‘I will be back before you awake, Harry’, James says soothingly, patting Harry’s feet over the blanket. ‘Right now I must do what I can, okay?’

Harry doesn’t look like he agrees, but he whispers: ‘Okay’.

James glances back at Lily. In those few seconds, she can read the fear in his eyes, not for himself, but for them; being away from his family at this moment doesn’t feel right for him either. But there is a fierce resolution in his eyes too, a notion of duty that James Potter will do everything he can for them, and Lily answers with a soft kiss on his lips.

Come back for us, is what she says in that kiss. If you want to do something for us, then come back.

‘I love you’, James whispers quietly, only for her, and she hears his promise of return in his voice.

And then he is gone.

She turns to Harry, sitting at the edge of his bed. Dumbledore tells him he will talk to the Diggorys and Lily closes her eyes as he leaves, fighting back a will to cry. It is the easiest thing to imagine what the Diggorys are going through and that scares her a lot.

Oh, God, Lily thinks to herself. Voldemort has returned only for a couple of hours now, the war has not even really begun, and she is fearful of everything already.

But she puts on her brave face. Later, when she is alone (or rather with James, his arms around her, preferably in the bedroom of the house they built together), she will let her feelings flow. Now, she needs to be there for Harry.

Lily opens her eyes, looking around. Ron and Hermione are staring at Harry, biting their lips as if they are on the edge of speech, but Harry’s eyes are fixed on the ceiling and nobody talks for a while.

She grabs the bottle of potion in the bedside cabinet, brushing the sack of gold as she does it. The sack falls in the ground, the sounds of metal coins echoing in the room. Harry winces as if that pains him.

‘You need to take your potion, Harry’, Lily tells him kindly, picking up the sack on the floor.

‘I don’t want it’, Harry murmurs. ‘The gold, I mean, I shouldn’t have won it. Ced… Cedric should have it’.

Lily tries to stop her hand from shaking as she uncorks the bottle of potion. It doesn’t work, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice as he holds the potion she gives him.

His brows are furrowed as if he is trying very hard to control himself.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Harry’, she tells him, knowing she will have to repeat it a thousand times until he believes it.

‘It is’, he argues emotionless. ‘I told him to come with me. He was… the spare’.

Lily doesn’t know what he means by that, but she can’t ask right now. Harry is breathing through his mouth now, his lips trembling and he absolutely refuses to look at anyone. She knows his expression.

It’s the same on her face when she can’t cry at the moment.

Harry doesn’t want an audience. He was never one to feel comfortable with his emotions in public.

‘Drink your potion’, she orders gently, trying to force him to lie down, though he remains sitted. ‘We will let you rest -’

‘No’, he cuts her off, taking her hand in his. Harry looks around briefly, his head down as if he doesn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes, and then he whispers: ‘Stay... stay close to me’.

It’s the way Harry says it that breaks her. His voice is guilty as if he doesn’t want to be this weak, this dependant, the words seemingly escaping his mouth against his will. He is pleading to her, asking for comfort as he did when he was three-year-old and the thunder scared him and he was ashamed of it; Lily remembers him refusing James’ company, asking specifically for hers instead.

It is a son’s plea for his mother.

‘I’m always with you, Harry’, she promises him, bending down and placing her arms around her. She thinks Harry should hate her, because she feels a liar - she wasn’t there for her son tonight. Harry faced everything alone, as brave as he could, but all by himself, him against Voldemort, no lingering ghost of his parents to support him.

And yet Harry doesn’t yell, doesn’t accuse her of anything. He accepts her, raising his arms to hug her too almost desperately, and Lily hears him sobbing. It is a cry of misery, a cry that speaks how tired her teenage son is and how sorrowful he is for everything that happened, even when it is not his fault.

‘I’m here’, she tells him softly, caressing his hair, urging him to feel he is loved and protected by his mother.

There is a loud noise and they break apart. Harry’s face is drenched with tears and, as Lily blinks hers away, she realizes she was crying too. She dries them away quickly, before quietly wiping Harry’s face too. He is refusing to meet her eyes now, looking embarrassed and so young.

She kisses his forehead tenderly.

'Sleep, Harry', she whispers.

Harry takes the potion, drinking it in one gulp, and then his head is falling heavily on the pillow. Lily arranges his hair, then smoothes his blanket. Now, at least, in a dreamless sleep, Harry looks calmer, more like the fourteen-year-old boy he should be and yet never will.

She sits back on the chair, in a quiet vigil, waiting for James to return so they can be there, together, for when Harry wakes up.

151 notes · View notes

keijislove · 4 years ago

Text

Idiot: Ron Weasley x Reader

A/N: sup, im having my exams so im infrequent lmfao. Also, Weasley is MY king

'Alright darling, stay safe!' your mother pecked your forehead. 'And have fun!'

You had gotten an owl earlier that morning, from your friend and crush, Ronald Weasley, inviting you to spend the summer at the Burrow.

Since the War was finally over, you, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna and all the others had decided to repeat seventh year due to the earlier, unfavorable circumstances.

Stepping into the fireplace, you grabbed a fistful of Floo powder before speaking,

'The Burrow!'

Green flames flashed around you as you suddenly found yourself in the Weasleys' fireplace.

Coughing, you staggered out, only to be met with a familiar red head repairing her torn textbook with Spellotape.

'Y/N!' Ginny said, shooting up from her spot to dust you off properly.

She then proceeded to squeeze you into a hug. 'You came!'

'Course I did.' you coughed again.

'MUM!' Ginny called. 'Y/N's HERE!'

In a few minutes, an elder woman with a kind face appeared in front of you.

'Y/N, darling!' Mrs Weasley hugged you. 'You must be tired, come on, up to your room. You can share with Ginny and Hermione. Go on!'

You nodded, already familiar with the layout of the house, having been there Merlin knows how many times.

As you proceeded to climb the stairs, you heard a crack as two identical boys appeared in front of you (A/N: yes, two. No Freds be dying in my fanfics).

'Can you please stop that?' you asked. 'You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

'Aww, we gave Y/N/N a heart attack!' George feigned shock.

You rolled your eyes.

'So, Y/N.' George continued.

'We've been thinking.' said Fred.

'About you.' said George.

'And your little problem.' said Fred.

'So we've decided.' said George.

'To help you with it.' finished Fred.

'Wait, wait, what?' you asked. 'What problem?'

'Oh, you know who.' George rolled his eyes.

'Voldemort?' you questioned. 'Isn't he dead?'

'Not him, you silly girl!' Fred spoke.

'Then who?' you asked.

'Won-Won.' they chorused.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter when they used the nickname Ron's ex-girlfriend had coined.

'And why, pray, is Won-Won a problem?' you giggled.

'Don't act like you aren't smitten with him.' George smirked.

'Yeah, we aren't idiots, mate.' said Fred. 'We listen, we watch, and we put it together.'

'Well I suggest you keep your theories to yourself.' you coolly said, stomping upstairs.

No sooner had you opened the door than Hermione had tackled you.

'Y/N!' she yelled. 'Merlin's sake, you're here! Did you meet Ron yet?'

'Hi Mione.' you smiled. 'No, um, I was looking for him... where is he?'

'Downstairs, in the garden.' she replied. 'He was wondering when you'd get here.'

Your cheeks flushed a little. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever.'

You ran downstairs and out the garden at top speed, accidentally bumping into a long-haired Weasley.

'Whoops, sorry Bill!' you apologised.

Bill laughed, 'It's fine, Y/N.'

You were suddenly attacked from both sides in a hug.

'Ouch, Harry, Ron, geroff me!' you squealed.

'I thought you weren't going to come!' Ron breathed.

'Yeah, he's been pacing all day.' Harry smirked causing Ron's ears to turn pink.

'Nose down, Harry.' he rolled his eyes, ears still red.

'Anyways.' you changed the subject. 'Now that there's no war and we have all the time in the world.'

'One month and a half.' George corrected.

'Yeah.' you waved off. 'Let's do something.'

'You're not hanging out with the girls?' Percy asked. 'Weren't they planning a sleepover or something?'

'Blegh.' you gagged. 'No thanks, I'd rather hang with you guys.'

Percy looked highly affronted at this blatant declaration, but didn't push it further.

'So we're playing Quidditch?' asked Charlie.

'There aren't enough people.' you pouted.

'That's okay, we can do like one beater and one chaser per team.' Harry shrugged.

'Okay.' you narrowly looked at him.

'Quidditch?' Ginny had strolled over to you. 'Can I play too?'

'No-' Ron began.

'Yes.' you firmly said.

'Well I suppose I'll be watching, then.' Hermione scowled.

'Bloody hell, how did you get here?' asked Ron, reminding you of your third year when both you and Hermione had used the time-turner to get to all your classes.

'I Apparated, Ronald.' Hermione was still sulking. 'Get on with it.'

'Alright.' said Bill. 'Fred, Y/N, Ron and Harry in one team. Fred as Beater, Y/N as Chaser, Harry as Seeker and Ron as Keeper.'

George smirked and began humming 'Weasley is our king' under his breath as Ron hurled a gnome at him.

'As for the rest of us.' Bill continued. 'Charlie, Seeker. George, Beater. I'll be Keeper and Ginny can be Chaser.'

'If you must know.' Percy delicately said. 'I never liked Quidditch anyway.'

'We know Perce.' you grinned. 'That's why we're quiet.'

Percy scowled.

-----

The game was going well so far, your side was winning.

Well... you, Harry and Fred were anyway.

Ron made zigzags, swirls and loops but yet couldn't protect the goals.

'Wow, Ron.' Ginny remarked, throwing her next Quaffle in. 'I didn't think you would still stink at this.'

'It'd be better if he were paying attention to the game.' Harry grumbled.

'OI!' Fred yelled when Ginny aimed again. 'RON, STOP STARING AT Y/N AND PROTECT THE GOAL!'

'YEAH, WE ALL KNOW YOU FANCY HER, NOW STOP IT!' George added.

'Okay, stop it.' you snarled. 'You think this is funny, do you, joking about someone's feelings like that? Shame on you lot, honestly.'

'Hey, Y/N, they were joking.' Bill soothed.

'Save it.' you angrily threw your broom and left.

-----

You had been staring at the wall for quite sometime now.

A knock sounded on the door.

'Go away.' you called. 'Not in the mood.'

'Y/N?' asked Fred. 'Can I come in?'

'No.' you groaned, hearing the door click open.

'Mate, we were just joking.' George followed him.

'But still.' pressed Fred.

'We think.' continued George.

'That we should just ask you.' finished Fred.

'Can you stop doing that?' you asked. 'It's weird.'

'Do you or do you not fancy our brother.' they spoke together.

'Ugh.' you groaned. 'This again. FINE! Maybe I do, now what?'

'I KNEW IT!' Fred shouted. 'This is adorable.'

'And disgusting.' George made a face.

'If you tell anyone.' you warned. 'I'm cutting off your balls and feeding them to you.'

'Not a word, miss.' George grinned.

'Good.'

----

It was the last weekend before school, and all of you were partying at the Burrow.

Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, you name it, it was there.

After a particularly tipsy Fleur asked you to call her Patrick, you decided to leave and find the guys.

You bumped into a frantic redhead.

'Oh my god, Y/N I'm so sorry!' Fred guiltily said. 'I didn't mean, I swear!'

'What?' you asked.

'Well Freddie here might've told Ron your secret.' George nervously said.

'IT WAS THE FIREWHISKEY!' Fred moaned.

'WHAT?!' you screamed. 'No, no, NO!'

'And he might be looking for you right now, in the garden.' George guiltily added.

'No.' you moaned. 'I'm departing to death. Farewell, Weasleys.'

----

'So... hi.' you said when you reached the place where your crush stood.

'Y/N! Um, h-hey!' Ron awkwardly said. 'Um, someone might or might not have told me... you take a fancy to me?'

You fought the urge to scream and run. 'Erm... Well...'

'Is it true?' Ron cut off.

'Well, yes.' you admitted and looked down.

Ron didn't speak and your heart broke.

'Go on.' you shakily said, not daring to look up. 'Laugh. I dare you.'

When you looked up, Ron wasn't laughing.

Instead, he had a big grin plastered on his face.

'The bloody hell you smiling about?' you demanded.

'Y/N...' Ron began. 'You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited to hear that.'

'W-what?'

'Maybe I fancy you too?' Ron suggested.

Awkward silence.

'Wow, um.' you began. 'I s'pose we...'

'What do we do now?' asked Ron.'I guess... this is the part where we hug?'

'Yeah.' you nodded.

'Ow, Harry!' came Ginny's voice. 'Let me go, he needs to know!'

A second later, her head popped up from behind the shed.

'RON YOU IDIOT!' Ginny called.

'I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THIS!' George yelled.

'RON, MATE, MUCH AS I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE BEING THICK!' called Harry.

'I'm sorry!' Hermione yelled. 'I told these idiots not to watch!'

'But zis iz so sweet!' Fleur cooed.

'Get it, mate!' Bill yelled.

'Proud of you, Ron!' called Charlie.

'No, he's being stupid.' Percy interjected.

'Yeah mate, for once, I agree with Percy.' said Fred. 'Kiss her you idiot!'

'You.' Ron muttered. 'All of you, what the bloody hell-'

'Oh shut up.' you muttered, grabbing his face before smashing your lips onto his.

When you parted, you both had stupid grins on your faces.

‘By the way, Fred.’ you called. ‘I’m still feeding your balls to you.’

332 notes · View notes

memoirsofanerdygirl · 3 years ago

Text

The Gold in the Abyss - Chapter One: Going Over His Head

Summary:

London, 1991.

Katherine Clarke -- Auror, Slytherin, and in desperate need of Severus Snape’s help. A mysterious shadow has poisoned two victims with an unknown substance, slowly decomposing their stomachs from within. When more bodies turn up in cramped London alleys, she has no choice but to ask her former professor for assistance.

As Britain is plunged into war, Kate and Severus are forced to confront their demons of guilt and fear. Caught between two sides of a hopeless conflict, can they learn to respect one another, and, in time, perhaps even care for the other?

Warnings: Language, implied attempted rape, mild graphic depictions of violence/gore.

Notes: (feel free to skip this, it’s just to cover my ass) The Harry Potter Universe, all its characters and places are owned by J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended, nor am I making any profit from this story. All original characters, I own. This story does contain adult situations, language, violence, and sexual situations. If any of these offend you, please do not read.

Okay, now for the real notes. So, this idea has been floating around for quite a while now, and I’m super, super excited to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy! And remember, comments, reblogs and general reactions are ALWAYS appreciated :)

~~~

The bookshop was tucked away in a corner of Diagon Alley, hidden around the bend of a back road that branched off the main shopping street.Small, but stuffed from floor to ceiling with old and new volumes alike, topics ranging from Guide to De-Ghouling to the latest editions of The Dark Arts Outsmarted.

A sign with a bubbling cauldron and the words ‘The Melting Plot’ dangled above the entrance. Kate pulled open the door and entered. It smelled of old books and the unmistakable scent of a cooling charm -- artificial freshness, like the crisp air in the frozen aisle of a grocery store. All the same, she was glad for the rush of cold air that dispelled the muggy mid-August heat.

She slipped her wand out of the sleeve of her lightweight jacket and stuck it in her belt loop. Her armpits were damp with sweat. At least there would be no stains in the loose blouse underneath. She shrugged off the jacket and draped the olive material over her arm.

The bookkeeper was a spindly old man with a knotted hulihee beard, two bushels of coarse grey hair broadening his jaw to three times its size, but leaving his chin bare. He gave off whiffs of tobacco when one stepped too near, but he did, at the very least, know the store like the back of his hand. He looked up at her through thin rimmed spectacles.

“Research,” said Kate. “Poisons.”

He jerked his head toward the back right corner of the shop.

She nodded. It suddenly occurred to her that in all the times she’d been to The Melting Plot, she had never asked the man’s name. Hadn’t been able to stand the stench long enough.

The Melting Plot wasn’t large at all; perhaps, if she had to guess, half the size of Flourish and Blotts. Besides Kate, there was only one other patron present at the moment: a rather beefy man clad in deep violet robes. He barely glanced up at her as she breezed past his aisle.

Secluded from the busy areas of Diagon Alley as it was, the shop’s customers were a medley of sporadic regulars who forwent the noisy din of Flourish and Blotts for the empty silence of The Melting Plot. Kate, however, came for the prices. Two-for-a-Galleon days were simply too tempting.

Coming upon the aisle in the back, she sighed. She didn’t have the faintest idea what she was looking for; she had only the patients’ symptoms to go off of, and even those weren’t much. Vomiting. Bloody urine. Comatose state. How in the world was she supposed to find the poisonous culprit?

Encyclopedia, she answered herself. That had always been a good place to start.

She proceeded down the aisle, her finger brushing over the spines of the books as she quickly scanned the titles. Dark Arts Discovered by Eglantine Pickering… Vampires and Bats by Garrett Puckett… She was halfway down the aisle before she found a relevant title and plucked it off the shelf. She rested her foot on a bottom shelf, balancing on one leg, and propped the heavy book on her knee. She began to read.

Barely five minutes in, and already it was hopeless. Like finding a Knut in a pile of dragon dung. She flipped idly through the pages, and when she heard the front door creak open again, she peered through the aisles for a glimpse of the newcomer.

A flash of black between the stacks. Clacks of a forceful stride on the wooden floor. There was a low murmur, and Kate heard the bookkeeper wheeze, “ ‘Course,” and then the squeak of the backroom door opening and closing. Likely some customer picking up an order. She returned to the book in her hand.

A Compendium of Magical Poisons, it was called. An antique, too; the textured leather spine gilded and ridged. She snapped the book shut to inspect the front and back covers. It would make a fine addition to her collection.

Might as well.

She exited the aisle for the till. If it didn’t prove useful, it could always be used as a coaster for her tea. Or given to Tristan; Tristan knew all sorts of muggle markets that sold old items for a vastly inflated price. One of the advantages of being a muggleborn, she supposed.

The bookkeeper reentered from the backroom, carrying a small stack of books. “Four Galleons,” he said. “You want wrapping?”

The clink of coins hitting the counter. “Yes.”

But… she knew that voice. Deep, deliberate. Always the hint of a sneer. She snapped her gaze up from the item in her hands. “Professor Snape?”

He was exactly as she remembered him. A tall, sharp frame draped in black robes buttoned up to his neck. Lank black hair lay limp against his pallid face, upon which a sharp brow was quickly rising. “Miss Clarke. What a surprise.”

“Yes. Yes, indeed.” As his critical gaze swept over her, Kate was suddenly very conscious of her flushed face, slightly oily with sweat. And Lord, her hair -- she hadn’t washed the dark brown mess in three days, too busy stressing over the new case. She instinctively raised a hand to sweep her hair over one shoulder. It was surprising, him having recognised her without her signature schoolgirl fringe.

“It’s been six years, hasn’t it?” he said.

It… had. Six years since she’d left the confines of Hogwarts. “Yes. Yes, indeed,” she said.

The bookkeeper eyed them both with a twitching eye as he finished wrapping the books in brown paper and tied the package with a string of twine.

Snape whisked his purchase off the counter. He gave her a curt nod and turned for the door.

But -- he -- “How are the students?” she called. The least he could do was to finish their bloody conversation.

He turned around. “Simply charming,” he sneered.

“Wonderful.” He had never liked teaching, much less his students. Kate knew that. For four years, she had watched him stalk the dungeons. She’d watched him smirk in glee when a student answered a question wrong, watched him dock points by the bucketful when they made a racket in the halls. She, for some miraculous reason, had been on the receiving end of his withering stares only a handful of times. Owing to her Slytherin status, perhaps. Merlin knew she had never been a Potions Extraordinaire like Snape.

Potions… Could she…

“My cousin” -- she fished for something to say -- “my cousin is a first year student this year.”

“Your cousin.”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Splendid.” His nostrils flared. “Another shabby Weasley to add to my excessive collection.”

She bit back a retort. They were a little shabby, and she admitted as much. But when Snape said it like that, sarcasm dripping from each word, it made her stomach twist. Regrettably, defending them would have to wait. For now, she needed Snape to tolerate her.

Which, judging by the fleeting glance he cast toward the door, was going none too well.

“Perhaps,” he tucked the package under his arm, “we shall meet again in another six years.”

She smiled. “I doubt you’ll have to wait that long.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, I was wondering whether I might… consult your expertise.”

His brow arched up high on his pale forehead. “My expertise being…”

“Potions.” Kate made her way toward him, past the till and the bookkeeper. “You see, I’ve been assigned a case involving an unknown poison -- I’m an Auror -- and, well, unfortunately it seems that an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ N.E.W.T in Potions is not quite enough to find the antidote.”

“I can’t imagine it would be,” he said coldly.

It was her turn to lift a brow.

“Haven’t you contacted the St. Mungo’s Healers? They’re always eager to offer their services to the desperate.”

Kate forced a wry smile to her lips. “I have. A team has already begun to look into it. But, according to my father, we’ll all be dead in our graves before they find a cure.”

“And anything your father says must be true.”

Her smile was difficult to maintain. “He works at St. Mungo’s. Claims a horde of pixies could get it done faster. So, frankly, I am desperate. Two lives hinge-- ”

“So I’ve heard,” he interrupted. “I do read the Daily Prophet, Miss Clarke. ‘HIT Witch Janice Bulwark mysteriously discovered unconscious, admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries’, no?” He recited the headline.

Kate averted her eyes, muttering under her breath. She thought Kingsley had managed to get the reporter to keep the whole thing under wraps. “Yes, that’s the one.” She glanced at the bookkeeper, who was still eyeing them grittily. She caught a strong whiff of tobacco and resisted the urge to scowl. “Listen,” she said, “it’s rather sensitive information I’m about to share with you-- ”

“I’d much rather you didn’t,” said Snape. “I have no intention of involving myself in Ministry matters, much less a murder investigation.”

“Yes, but we have never seen anything like this before, and I’ve already exhausted every other option. I’m doing research in a bloody bookshop, for Merlin’s sake.”

He smirked. “Then I hope you are still a swift reader.”

Git. Kate lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Their stomachs are being decomposed from within, Professor.”

His ink black eyes studied her woody brown ones. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you,” he said smoothly. “Term begins in a few short weeks, as you may well know, and I must prepare for the students.”

Prepare for the students? That was a load of dragon shit, and they both knew it. Snape’s gaze glinted, challenging her.

So, this was how he wanted to play things.

“Of course.” She smiled. “I understand.” She held up the thick encyclopedia in her hands. “Well, I had better go pay for this before the man suspects me of theft. Wonderful to see you again, really.”

The slightest twitch of his brows was the only sign she had surprised him. Abruptly, he turned and departed the store, leaving a very amused Katherine Clarke to watch the door swing shut behind him.

“You’re right about the stealin’,” the old bookkeeper grumbled. She caught another whiff of tobacco. “You going to buy it or not?”

“No,” said Kate firmly. “I don’t think I will.” She had too many books as it was. Besides, if she was right, she would soon possess a resource far more useful than a tatty reference book.

***

In the end, Kate did purchase the book. She had a terrible soft spot for beautiful books that left an even more terrible dent in her Gringotts account. She strode a little ways toward the main street before she stopped, shifted her paper-wrapped package more securely under her arm, and turned on her heel.

A swift pop, and she appeared once again in a back alley. Blaring honks and the rumble of traffic sounded from up ahead.

Exiting onto Whitehall, she wove among the pedestrians until she came to a row of black spiky railings that flanked two flights of descending stairs labelled ‘LADIES’ and ‘GENTLEMEN’. She took the stairs to the right and quickly emerged into the underground public toilets. Dim lighting concealed most of the grime on the black and white tiles, and the mirrors that were supposed to have hung above the three sinks were respectively cracked, nonexistent and spattered with a brown substance that looked suspiciously like spit and chewed tobacco.

Merlin, did everyone enjoy tobacco?

Despite being the main entrance to the Ministry, the Whitehall public toilets were quite disgusting, and the only reason Kate could think why they wouldn’t perform a few simple cleaning charms on the place was that it kept Muggles at bay. In all the years she had used the toilets, she had only ever seen four, perhaps five Muggles wander in. They had been chased out by the unsavoury sight, or else quickly Confounded and sent back overground. Today was no different. Of the dozen or so people queued up by the stalls, all bore some sign of being a Ministry employee.

Dawlish nodded at her from the next queue over. “Alright there, Clarke?”

“Just popping in for a quick chat with Scrimgeour,” she returned.

“Thought you were out on assignment.”

“I was.” She stepped forward in the queue. “Quite productive, actually. Lunch break?” she asked him.

He nodded and patted his stomach beneath his beige suit. “Genevive came ‘round.”

“What about the baby?”

“Helen’s with Gen’s parents.” His wiry brown hair looked grey under the flickering fluorescent lights. “I’ve got a holiday next weekend, so they decided to come down for a fortnight.”

“Excellent.”

Dawlish stepped into a stall. “It will be, as long as my mother-in-law quits smoking,” he called. “Terrible for Helen’s lungs, I told her.” There was a flushing noise and he was gone.

Again, she thought. Again with the tobacco.

It wasn’t long before Kate joined the throng of Ministry workers ambling toward the golden gates at the far end of the Atrium. The crowd was much thinner than the morning rush, however, and within minutes she was striding into the Auror Headquarters on Level Two.

Dawlish had gotten there before her and was already settling in his cubicle, a small mountain of paperwork before him. He adjusted the framed picture lovingly placed in the corner of the cubicle -- a smiling brunette cradled a pig-tailed toddler, both perched atop a broomstick -- then set about dipping his quill in ink to begin the first page.

“Oi, Clarke -- ” Gawain Robard twisted around in his chair, “ -- look at this.” He gestured at a chubby faced witch with cropped pink hair.

The girl grinned cheekily and squeezed her eyes shut as Kate turned to watch. The enormous mane seemed to sprout out of her very neck; bushels of tawny hair laced with grey grew and grew until they framed the girl’s face like a lion’s mane. The girl brought her hands up to her eyes and formed two circles, like glasses, and set her lips into a deep frown.

Kate snorted, then broke into a laugh as the girl growled in a spot-on imitation of the Head Auror.

“Brilliant, eh?” Robard gazed at the girl proudly. One half of his face was gnarled with raised white scars.

“Stunning,” she laughed. “Though I’m not sure Scrimgeour would appreciate the comedy.” She wracked her brain for the girl’s name… Tina… Tink… Tory, was it?

The girl flushed and brought her hands down. The mane retreated. “Bloody terrifying, he is.”

“Who -- Scrimgeour?” Kate asked.

She nodded, her hair turning to an apple red. “You know, I was getting myself some tea from the break room the other day -- adding my milk and sugar and everything -- and he appears next to me and he says -- ” the girl deepened her voice, imitating him, “ -- ‘Ought to use less milk. Have a mind to save the budget.’” She leaned against Robard’s desk. “I wasn’t quite sure what to say. He seems to hate me most out of all the A.T.s.”

Robard propped an arm on the back of his chair. “Well, there are only two of you. The man’s got to pick one, hasn’t he?”

Kate frowned. “Only two Trainees? I thought he hadn’t finished sorting through applications. Didn’t he have seventy some odd left?”

“Dunno.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped black hair. “Anyway, I’ve got a pair of missing twins to find.” He spun back around in his seat.

“Godspeed.” The Auror Trainee’s hair bloomed back to an offensive pink.

Kate could distinctly remember meeting the girl not a week ago when the two A.T.s had first stepped foot in the Headquarters. After all, it was difficult to forget meeting a metamorphmagus, especially one with hair that rivaled the most garish of Valentine’s cards. But she could not, for the life of her, recall the girl’s name.

“Can I get you anything, Ms Clarke?” the girl asked, stepping out of Robard’s cubicle.

Kate had the sudden, fleeting image of a hook nosed, sharp faced man sneering at her over a cauldron. She hadn’t been addressed as ‘Miss Clarke’ for six years, and now… twice in one day. “Just Kate,” she said. “Er -- actually -- could you… ” She gave a small laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Tonks,” said the girl brightly, offering a hand to shake.

Kate took it gratefully. “Welcome to the Auror Headquarters.” She smiled. “Where we discuss murders over tea.”

Tonks grinned, and her hair turned yellow.

Merlin’s pants. The girl was like one of those Muggle mood rings.

“Is Kingsley in?” Kate asked.

“Don’t think so. I saw him dragged out by a group of Obliviators ‘bout an hour ago. A little irritated by the looks of it.”

Then he’d have to wait, she decided. Time was of the essence. She bid Tonks a quick goodbye and wove to her own cubicle to set her package down.

Kate’s cubicle, directly across from Kingsley’s, was cluttered. Very cluttered. A pair of reading spectacles rested lens-side down atop various open books. An unopened Chocolate Frog sat beside a red case folder labelled ‘BULWARK/GOLDHORN’, from which various photographs and documents threatened to burst. A marked map of London’s warehouse district was pinned to her cubicle wall, and next to that a rather crude drawing of a gnome Ginny had recently gifted her. Kate bent to pick up the scraps of parchment that had fluttered to the floor, set adrift by colleagues sweeping past her desk.

Someday she would find time to tidy everything up. Someday, when this whole decomposing stomach debacle was sorted.

She made her way to the back corner of the room where the Head Auror’s Office was located. Kate knocked softly on the door. The blinds looking out toward the cubicles were drawn.

“Enter,” grumbled a voice on the other side.

Scrimgeour’s office was rather dark; grey storm clouds twisted and gathered in the windows behind his desk, pregnant with heavy rain. He scribbled a few last words on a lavender coloured memo before it folded itself into a neat paper aeroplane and zoomed out the door just as Kate closed it behind her.

“Clarke.” Scrimgeour fixed her with a steadfast gaze, his mouth turned down in a deep frown. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles sat low on his ridged nose. “What’s the matter? Something gone wrong with one of them victims?”

“No, no,” she said. “Conditions unchanged, last I heard.”

“Comatose.”

She nodded. “Fortunately. Or they’d be in quite some pain.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“The St Mungo’s task force isn’t working fast enough to save them -- Bulwark and Goldhorn.” It was the truth, plain and simple.

“Aren’t they?”

Kate approached his desk but did not sit down; she rested her hands on the back of the chair before the table. “It’s been made very clear that they’ve only got a list of three possible poisons. Three, sir. It’s been a week and a half. Therefore,” she steeled herself, “it is my hope that, with your permission, I may bring the Potions Master Severus Snape in as a consultant on this case and work on an antidote myself.”

“Severus Snape? What -- the Death Eater?” His tone was incredulous.

“Former Death Eater, sir.”

Scrimgeour huffed a laugh, shaking his tawny head. His maned head looked too large for his rangy frame. When he saw that Kate’s expression was quite unchanged, he stilled.

She took the chance. “He is a brilliant Potioneer. A specialist in his field. In fact, I believe his knowledge of poisons and antidotes surpasses even that of the task force’s.”

“With all due respect, Clarke, you can’t expect me to believe that you and Severus Snape can produce an antidote faster than the task force. They’re a group of highly skilled Healers. They’ve studied poisons for years.”

“And with all due respect to you, sir, you have never been taught by Severus Snape.” Her straight, stubborn brows drew together.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, revealing small rows of snaggled teeth. He let out a suppressed sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if you weren’t sorted into Gryffindor instead.”

She ignored the comment. Her feelings regarding her house were muddled, and it was much easier to ignore them instead. Besides, no use crying over spilt potions. “Please, sir. It can only help the investigation.”

“Your job is to catch the wizard, not to cure the patients.”

“And the antidote will help us to do just that. You know it will. The sooner we find the antidote, the sooner we catch the wizard.” Kate released the chair back and slid her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “If you require it, I can have a copy of his professional record owled to you, but that will take time. Precious time I’m afraid the victims don’t have.”

Lie. She was quite sure she would not be able to obtain a copy of Snape’s record at all. The man certainly wouldn’t provide it willingly.

Scrimgeour narrowed his yellowish eyes behind his spectacles. “And if, in the end, you find you’ve spent too much time mixing cocktails in the dungeons and the case goes cold -- what happens then? What happens when you find you’ve lost?”

“I won’t -- ”

“Shacklebolt is an excellent Auror, top of the line. But no wizard shy of Merlin himself could conduct interviews, formulate theories, inspect crime scenes, subdue the Prophet, investigate suspects and catch the perpetrator singlehandedly.”

“But he won’t be, sir. I am in no way deserting him. I’m merely pursuing an alternate method of investigation in addition to the established method.” Kate took her hands out of her trouser pockets. She hastily swept her dark hair over one shoulder. “I’ve had a chat with Kingsley already. He agrees that it would be extremely helpful to have Snape on standby.” Her mouth dried slightly. She tried not to swallow.

Scrimgeour pulled his frown deeper and inspected Kate for a few quiet moments. Then his spectacles shifted as his ridged nose twitched in resignation. “Shall I inform him, or shall you?”

Warm satisfaction spread through her chest. “Oh, no, it had much better come from you.”

“Very well.” He pulled a blank sheet of parchment from behind his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” Kate returned to the door and pulled it open.

His rumbling voice called her back. “Remind me what grade you received on your Potions N.E.W.T.?”

This she couldn’t lie about. Scrimgeour had her records. “‘Exceeds Expectations’, sir.”

Scrimegour’s busheled brows lowered. “I see.” The doubt in his tone was unmistakable. “I don’t need to remind you that two lives rest in your hands. However you decide to proceed with the case, whether through investigation or experimentation, will determine whether they and their families receive justice. If you fail, it will reflect poorly on our department.” His yellowish eyes blinked at her in the dim office. “Be careful, Katherine.”

She dipped her head. “Of course.”

***

Kate had been right about Kingsley. Admittedly, he’d been rightfully irritated at her not having waited until after he’d got back to ask Scrimgeour, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d even gotten him to confess that having Snape on hand would be useful. At least he hadn’t given her one of his ‘honestly, Kate’ looks. The last time she had gotten one of those was three years ago when she’d still been his trainee.

The keys jangled as she inserted one into the lock and opened the door to her flat. The bloody things were a nuisance, but living squarely in the middle of Westminster, it was a necessary sacrifice.

It was dark and quiet inside her flat. Street lamps outside cast a small pool of light by the window. Late night traffic grumbled past; Trafalgar Square never slept. Kate dropped her briefcase by the door and hung the keys on the coat stand. As she passed into the small kitchen, she dropped her linen jacket on the granite counter.

She had already eaten dinner with Kingsley, working on the case while nibbling on Ministry canteen sandwiches. Four empty wrappers lay crumpled on the table before they had looked up and realised it was nearly ten. But the brain burned nearly twenty percent of one’s daily calories, which meant an extra supper for her after a long day’s work.

And so it was that Kate rooted around the fridge, the white light casting an eerie glow on her pale face. She spooned down a bit of leftover curry from the Thai place down the street. A quick wave of her wand and the dishes were washed. She crept down the creaky hall to the bedroom.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, but all was dark inside. White noise rumbled in the chambers. Kate eased herself through the crack in the door, then shut it behind her. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before creeping to the dresser across from the large bed. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled the drawer out, inch by inch. The ancient wood squeaked, loud enough to be heard over the white noise.

A groan from the rumpled sheets on the bed. “Kate?”

Damn. She gave up and yanked the drawer open the rest of the way. “Sorry to wake you,” she whispered. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“It’s fine. Just got back from work?” His American accent was slightly slurred with sleep.

“Yes. Kingsley and I had some business to discuss.” She pulled her nightclothes from the drawer and pushed it shut again.

Mark grunted. Kate could just make out his lean form struggling to sit up.

She shushed him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right there.”

“No, no, it’s okay, baby. I’ll wait up for you.” But he fell back against the pillows and tried to conceal a yawn.

Kate shimmied out of her work clothes, carefully folding the white shirt and trousers and draping them on top of the dresser.

“What was the business with Kingsley about?”

“The new case.” She slipped into her nightshirt. “We brought in a new consultant today.”

Mark hummed sleepily and dragged a hand up to scratch his beard. She climbed into bed next to him.

“Come here,” he said. He opened his arms and waited until she settled in to continue. “Who’s the consultant?”

His chest was too high for her head; her neck scrunched uncomfortably when she laid against him. “My former Potions Master.” Kate shifted her arm under her shoulder, then changed her mind and wriggled it out.

“The mean one or the fat one?”

“Mean one. I actually haven’t heard from the fat one in a while.” She grunted as she shifted positions. “But Tristan says he keeps getting letters from him.”

“Really?”

“Apparently Slughorn wants a special invitation to one of his concerts.”

His beard scratched the top of her head as he looked down at her. “You okay?”

She removed her arm from under her shoulder for the third time and stilled. “Sorry.”

“So, what’s the plan with him? Your Potions Master?”

“Not sure yet.” Well, she did have a general idea, but the specifics would ultimately come down to how difficult Snape was set on being. “How was your day?”

“Good.” He rubbed her back, up and down. “Went to the Leaky Cauldron to get some writing done. Five thousand words and half a chapter finished.”

“Excellent. Has what’s-his-name found the killer yet?”

“Not yet. That’s in Chapter Thirteen.”

Kate laughed softly. “Thirteen, you say?”

“Yeah.” His fingers wove into her dark hair.

For a few minutes they were silent, white noise thundering over the sound of their breathing and the traffic outside. His chest rose and fell; Kate’s neck cricked awkwardly.

“I kept staring at our spot at the bar,” he said suddenly. “At the Leaky Cauldron.”

She thought he’d fallen back asleep. “Our spot?”

“Remember -- the day we met? You were sitting on the third seat from the left end of the bar -- ”

“You remember which seat I was sitting in?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

Kate huffed in amusement.

“You wore those robes -- I think they were blue, yeah, navy blue -- and you were reading that ratty copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“And the ring too. Don’t forget the wedding ring.”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “Didn’t stop me from asking you out, did it?”

“Not sure what that says about you, Mark.”

“But I knew it was a fake.”

“Did you now?”

He hummed. “I was people-watching that night. There was no way I would’ve missed something as obvious as that.”

“And yet,” Kate propped her chin on his chest to look up at him, “I distinctly remember you ordering two bottles of firewhiskey, throwing me the worst pickup line, and proceeding to get me exceedingly sloshed.”

“You weren’t that drunk,” he protested. “You were still sober enough to help me with my novel.”

“Well, we both know it only sold so well because of me.”

“Really?”

“Most definitely. The murder mystery wouldn’t’ve been half so believeable if I hadn’t mixed in a dash of first-hand experience.”

He chuckled. “Of course, baby. All because of you.” His arms tightened around her back. His voice was husky when he spoke again. “My life is perfect because of you. So, so perfect.”

She could almost feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She didn’t know how to respond.

“Sleep, sleep, baby,” he murmured. “I love you.” He kissed the top of her head. “My soon-to-be wife.”

And suddenly the ring on her left hand felt cold as ice. She could think of nothing to say without sounding like a lovesick chit, so she settled for sliding an arm around his stomach. “Goodnight, Mark.”

He merely hummed in contentment.

It took less than five minutes for him to drift off again. Kate’s head rose and fell in time with his chest. A powerful snore escaped his mouth. Wrapped in rumbling white noise, she let her thoughts race.

She’d been wrong before, when she’d thought Snape looked the same. Their exchange had lasted mere minutes, his words, tone, attitude all as she’d expected, but his posture, his body language… Taut, shallow breaths through the nose, fingers gripping his package so tightly they turned white…

Of course, noticing such details was part of her training, but even without it, she would’ve recognised the signs for what they were -- silent, creeping fear.

The fear of the unknown. The knowledge that something, at any time, could attack her from anywhere. Like stumbling down a pitch black corridor and feeling a hand latch onto her ankle.

Merlin.

Kate slid from the bed. For a moment, she teetered on the edge; she was being ridiculous and dramatic. Crawling back into bed was the right choice, the reasonable choice. Kate watched the sleeping man in the bed, his golden brown hair nearly black in the darkness, his beard freshly trimmed, his chest bare. Her left thumb reached for the ring around her finger.

Perhaps a cup of tea would do her good.

The warm beverage didn’t take long to make. Soon, she was cradling the mug in her hands, though not daring to drink for fear of burning her tongue. Waiting a few minutes would do the trick.

Out in the sitting room, there was no white noise. A siren wined in the distance. Kate leaned against the window frame, looking out over Trafalgar Square. Despite the late hour, pedestrians still dotted the brightly lit square; some gathered around the colourful fountains, while others stopped to admire Nelson’s Column, an imposing Corinthian column upon which sat the Admiral of the same name. He hopped the twig ages ago, but his mark was long since made.

Kate blew on her tea. The warm steam tickled her nose. Some marks, she knew, never faded. The sight of her former Head of House had only reminded her of the fact.

Even now, bundled in her soft cotton nightshirt and her hair cascading around her shoulders, she could still feel his hand on her breast. Gripping. Pinching.

Hyatt Travers.

Her stomach turned over. She set her mug on the window sill.

The Death Eaters swallowed Slytherin house like a riptide. She knew, because fighting the current had come with a steep price she’d paid in full.

Her hands itched in restlessness. Kate picked up her mug again, scraping the rim with a nail. She looked at her knuckles. It was too easy to picture his blood and hers, drops flying from her fist as she’d drawn back to strike him again. The blinding frenzy. His spit in her face, a mouthful of saliva and blood from his broken teeth.

The scars from that night were still there, faint but clearly visible between her knuckle ridges.

Mark asked about them once. A rough encounter with an illegal dealer a couple years ago, she told him. He hadn’t suspected anything then, but since then… Her random bursts of resentment were impossible to overlook.

From the window, Kate watched a couple amble across the Square, arm in arm. The woman turned her face up to his, and the man gave her a chaste kiss. Kate smiled, but it soon disappeared.

When her moods came -- as they inevitably would -- Mark would sit her down on their bed, poking and prodding with this tranquil voice. He was trying to avoid a row, but it was like a bloody piece of plastic wrap smothering her. She tried to contain herself, really, but her voice raised of its own accord, the tears came unbidden, the swell of anger unwelcome. And when he shushed her or pulled her to his chest, she just … she couldn’t. She didn’t want to be quiet. She didn’t need a hug.

Kate took a large sip of her tea. The hot liquid prickled her tongue.

Oh, Mark… He would never look at her the same way.

That night -- her violence -- was a secret to keep.

***

Loud beeping woke Kate in the morning. She felt better after a quick face wash, but last night’s sleeplessness lingered as she plodded into the kitchen. Mark was seated at the small square table, dressed in only a shirt and boxers. He sipped a mug, transfixed by the glowing picture box pushed against the corner counter. A blonde woman chattered on screen as images of rubble flashed behind her.

Kate gazed at the box for a long moment; it was called a telephone, wasn’t it? Well, tele-something, that much she knew. “You’re up early,” she said.

Mark glanced up. His brown gaze swept over her nightshirt clad form. A blush rose in her cheeks. “I’m meeting Steven and Wilson for some ball at nine. Told you last week, remember?”

She did not. “Football?”

He pushed his floppy brown hair back from his eyes. “They’re muggles. Can’t play Quidditch.”

“Shame.” She spotted a covered plate on the table. “Oh, what’s this? Breakfast?”

“Toast and eggs. There’s coffee in the pot, if you want it.”

Kate pouted playfully. “No baked beans?”

He grimaced. “I will never understand you Brits.”

“No matter. I’m sure I’ll survive.” She gave him a quick peck and settled down to eat. Mark turned back to his tele-box, downing the rest of his coffee.

She had just finished her toast when Mark interrupted.

“Incoming.” He was looking out the window.

With the way the table was pushed against the wall and window, Kate had to stand and move behind Mark to get a look outside. In the distance, above the narrow alley the window faced, two spots flapped toward them.

“Two owls?” She settled back into her seat. “You know, we’re much too popular to be living in such a busy muggle area.”

“I’m the one paying the rent -- ”

“Just having you on, Mark,” she smiled. “The concealment charms’ll hold up.”

And though Mark’s gaze followed the sweeping path of the owls as they swooped into the alley, to the Muggle passerbys down below, they were nothing more than thin air. Mark pushed the window open. A beastly eagle owl fluttered in, followed by a rather plain barn owl.

Tied onto the first owl’s leg was a bundled copy of the Daily Prophet. Kate reached over her eggs and untied the string. It took a few tries; several of her nails had broken during a nasty tumble in a duelling simulation a week ago.

“It’s for you.” Mark slid the letter from the barn owl across to her.

She hummed in acknowledgement, but opened the newspaper instead. She hoped Kingsley had taken care of the stray reporter. A quick scan of the paper confirmed her hopes: there was nothing about the case. In fact, the only interesting headline read, ‘GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION’, but she gave it no mind. That was Moody’s case.

“Here.” She handed the Prophet to Mark, then took up the letter on the table.

The letter was merely a small square of folded parchment sealed with flimsy black wax. Katherine Clarke was written in sharp lettering, as if the author had tried to stab through the paper as they wrote. She broke open the seal. There was no greeting, no signature, but she didn’t need them to know exactly who had sent the letter.

She couldn’t help it; she snorted.

Mark looked up at her. “What?”

Kate set the paper next to her plate. “Seems I’ll be visiting Hogwarts soon.”

For, written on the yellowed parchment in a cramped, spidery scrawl:

Potions classroom. 25th August. 4pm.

Without Rufus Scrimgeour, if you please.

~~~

Notes: Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. No promises on when the next update will be, but I’m working on it :)

~~~

#severus snape #severus snape x oc #snape fandom #snape community #professor snape #pro snape #hp fanfic #fanfic #original character #auror #auror fanfic #snape x oc #the gold in the abyss #snapedom #ministry of magic

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duhragonball · 3 years ago

Text

Disinterpretation

I finally finished the Sarah Z video about “pro vs. anti”. It’s pretty long, and I ended up watching it in chunks over several days, but I think it’s worth watching, especially if you’re sort of partially connected to online fandom, but not enough to be aware of all the lingo.

As I expected, the whole thing was vague and confusing because the people involved in the conflict made it vague and confusing. In theory, the full terms would be “pro-shipping” and “anti-shipping”, but it seems like it’s more about particular kinds of ships that could be considered controversial. But that’s a slippery slope, and apparently the whole conflict mutated into both sides deciding that every hypothetical relationship between fictional characters is either equally valid or equally dangerous.

Long story short, it’s just purity culture, which was what everyone on Tumblr was calling it around 2012. But now, if you’re a sane person who genuinely asks: “Who gives a fuck about Voltron?”, these people will jump your ass and accuse you of being on the side of their enemies. “Children have died over the importance of Lotor/Hagger! Your callous indifference proves that you yourself must have murdered children!”

I think what Sarah Z really hit upon in this video was that media consumption has become so ingrained in our culture that people feel like it has to go hand-in-hand with our morality. That is, it’s not enough for me to watch Star Trek, I have to justify Star Trek as evidence that I’m a good person. Maybe this is where the expression “guilty pleasure” comes from. Conversely, it’s not enough for me to not watch Dr. Who, I have to somehow convince everyone that Dr. Who was invented by the devil.

I’m pretty sure the Reylo ship has a lot to do with this, since it’s kind of understood to be a dark, problematic concept, and fans either embrace its flaws or recoil in horror because of them. Star Wars itself is a dumb story about space wizards, so people try to give the debate more weight by linking it to freedom of self expression and/or enabling real world harm. Suddenly it’s not enough to just think two actors would look cute making out instead of fighting. Now it’s this battlefield for the soul of civilization or something.

I grew up in the 80′s, when “concerned parents” and grifters would accuse the Smurfs and metal bands of promoting satanism and witchcraft. I used to hear stories of teens going out into the woods in the middle of the night to do occult stuff, and all I could ever think about was: “Why would anyone bother wandering out in the woods in the middle of the night?” Which is why “concerned parents” turned their attention to things that were closer to home, like Saturday morning cartoons. It had nothing to do with the content; it was just about finding a safe, accessible target for their hysteria. Some people want to go on a crusade without leaving the house, so they pick a fight with Papa Smurf instead of confronting the real evils in the world. Even as a kid, I knew this was a con, because I’d watched the show for myself and knew it was too saccharine to be threat to anyone.

The pro/anti folks have tried to disguise this with a lot of terminology. I wondered why they seemed to reluctant to use the full terms “pro-shipper” and “anti-shipper”, and it’s probably a couple of things. First, the word “shipper” is basically an admission that this is pointless bullshit that doesn’t matter, and they’d like to avoid that connotation. Second, they seem to have decided that this goes beyond shipping itself, into practically anything else they want it to involve. It’s all part of the con, which is to make you believe that it’s “us vs. them”, and you can be part of “us” by curating specific attitudes about Steven Universe.

Seriously, “about Steven Universe” is such an incredible punchline. You can make anything funnier by adding those three words to the end of a sentence. “Do not interact if you blog about Steven Universe.” “Hey, what’s up, YouTube, this is SSJ3RyokoLover69, and this is going to be kind of a serious video about Steven Universe.” “Mrs. Johnson, the results of your biopsy are in, and I have some bad news about Steven Universe.” It’s a fucking kids show. “Oh no, all the characters look like the characters in all the other kids shows!” Yeah, that’s because it’s a kids show. Marvin looks like Garfield, this isn’t new.

The common denominator here seems to be that both sides try to wrap themselves in the flag of vulnerable groups: impressionable minors, trauma survivors, harassment victims, etc. The “pros” want to protect those people so that they can feel free to explore weird subject matter on their own terms, and the “antis” want to protect the same people from being exposed to weird subject matter that they might not want to see. It’s all about establishing a moral high ground. Back in the day, it was called “sanctimony”.

But people get roped into this, because at their core, people want approval, and this stupid conflict offers them a sense of community. As long as you support the cause, whatever it may be, you’ll have this online friend network that appears to support anything you do. But if you deviate from their norm, you’ll be cast out. Does this sound familiar?

To use a more familiar example, I still sometimes find people clamoring about Gochi vs. Vegebul. I’ve never understood this, because both ships were canon, and I never saw much direct evidence of a war between them, but people would still talk about how crazy the Vegebul shippers were, and how crazy the Gochi shippers were, and it was like some huge thing going on just over the hills. It’s the same idea, since the idea that you could like both or neither never seems to occur to anyone involved. I never gave a shit, because I used to see the same dumb agendas in the Harry Potter fandom.

Okay, so let me take you back. It’s 2005 through 2011, and I’m hateblogging all seven Harry Potter novels, because fuck you, that’s why. The funny thing I encountered was that occasionally fans seemed to want to pretend like my bashing of certain characters was proving them right somehow. They were like “See? He hates Ron Weasley too! That proves that Seamus Finnegan is the coolest guy ever.” The Slytherin stans would do this all the time, because I would constantly take the piss out of the Gryffindor characters for being self-important dopes. I think they just liked hearing it from an outside perspective. But I had to keep reminding them all that I hated all of them. Every character from Harry Potter sucks ass. Voldemort was my favorite, but only because he was the one guy who wanted to kill all of the others. But he sucks too because he failed.

And the shippers were the same way. I’d say something shitty about Ron, because Ron sucks, and some smartass Joss Whedon fan would be like “Yes! Boost the signal! That is why Harry/Hermione is the best ship!” And I’d be like “No, Harry and Hermione suck at least as bad as Ron does. They’re all terrible and I hate them.” I really do think there was some sort of Stockholm Syndrome going on with Harry Potter books, where everyone secretly knows they suck, but the fans sort of latch on to one or two characters and go like “Well, he’s not as shitty as the rest.” Like finding spaghetti in the trash and picking out the meatball with the least amount of lint on it. Then you’d go and start a flamewar with some other starving person over whether your meatball is shittier than theirs. This is what people mean when they say to read another book.

Anyway, the big thing I picked up from Sarah Z’s video is “disinterpretation”, a term coined by MSNBC columnis Zeeshan Aleem. The Twitter thread is worth a read, but the short version is that he once remarked that a Julia Louis-Dreyfus routine wasn’t very good, and someone got mad at him for insinuating that women are incapable of being funny. They just took his dissatisfaction with one performance by one comedian as being a universal condemnation of women comedians in general. And this sort of thing is all over the internet. Everyone sees what they want to see and then they take it as permission to overreact.

I ran into this myself a while back, because someone saw who I interacted with on Twitter and decided that they’re all bad guys and if I have any interaction with them, then that makes me a bad guy too. At the time I tried to play it cool, but the more I think about it, the more it ticks me off. And over the course of that conversation, it was said that I don’t talk about myself much, and that’s kind of funny, because all I ever do on social media is write long-ass blog posts like this one. I don’t expect anyone to memorize them, or even read them all the way through, but when I write all this stuff and someone goes out of their way to say they don’t know anything about me, the message is that they just didn’t pay attention to what I was saying, and they didn’t bother to try.

So I’m a little jaded from that, because I got called out for a bunch of stuff I didn’t even do or say, and apparently that’s just a thing that happens. People will reject you for completely arbitrary reasons, not because of anything you actually said or did, and you’re left thinking you made some terrible mistake. Except, no, I’ve seen it happen to other people, people a lore more conscientious than I am, and if they can’t satisfy the bullshit purity standards, then I never stood a chance. If the game is rigged so I can’t win, then I’m not going to play.

And it’s that same condition that probably draws people into these online holy wars, because if you declare yourself for the pro or anti side, at least then you’ll have a posse backing you up. Only they don’t support you, they support your willingness to support them. Once your commitment to their agenda wavers, even in the slightest, they will turn against you.

Sarah Z suggests that both sides of the war drop the pro and anti terms, since they lost all meaning long ago. But that just invites a new set of useless terms to perpetuate the same cycle. Her more useful advice is for fandom people to broaden their horizons. She got a lot of flak for tweeting “Go outside” once, but the ironic thing is that it’s sound advice. I had lunch with my mom yesterday and it was just nice getting away from things for a while. People need to do that more often, and unfortunately it feels like it’s harder to do than ever before.

But “go outside” isn’t just a literal thing. It can mean going beyond your usual haunts, reading the same books, watching the same shows, rehashing the same conversations. I think the reason this stuff always revolves around “shipping” is because there seems to be this deep-seated compulsion to pair fictional characters off like this, and for a lot of folks it’s the only way they can consume a story, so they do. And they do it lot, and there’s a lot of them, and they do it the same way every time, and lo and behold the same old conflicts start up. So maybe “go outside” should mean “go outside of that cycle once in a while.” Just a thought.

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years ago

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sunshine | part 11.

Summary: Y/N Riddle. Not much more has to be said. Life at Hogwarts when your dad is Lord Voldemort is an interesting experience. And four particular people at school make it even more interesting.

Warnings for the Series: THIS IS THE DARKER VERSION! IF YOU WANT THE LESS DARK MORE ANGSTY VERSION CHECK OUT PRINCESSE DE MORT

Pairing: Marauders x black!reader, eventual Remus Lupin x black!reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

With a belt tied around it, Remus’ jumper turned into a dress. Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, agreed to come with the two of you when you asked. Despite everything, they thought that you managed to still look good. Not the same as the pictures but there was a resemblance. You all took the Floo Network to Diagon Alley. The crowds of wizards and witches moved about, trying to get things they needed.

Remus looked down when you suddenly clutched his arm. He patted your hand as you all kept moving. It was a shaky walk all the way to Gringotts. The goblin at the front desk didn’t say anything when you first walked in. You never had a Gringotts’ account before. It was almost laughable that you were a grown woman and this was the first time you had ever set foot in a bank. You put down the key that the Ministry gave you.

“I’d like to withdraw from my vault.”

“Name?”

“(Y/N) Riddle.”

“How much?”

You looked at Remus, not knowing how much anything still costs. He gave the goblin an amount as well as an amount requested in muggle money. The worker came back a bit later with a pouch of coins and a slip that said how much was left. Hermione and Ron scoffed when they saw the slip. You handed the pouch to Remus until you bought a bag. He pocketed the coins and bank key.

“Where to, (Y/N)?”

“Flourish and Blotts?”

“Let’s go.”

The bookstore was just as nice as you remembered. You dug around the pouch for three galleons. Each of the kids protested as you shoved a galleon into the palm of each of their hands. You shook your head when they tried to give it back.

“I’m your godmother, Harry. Godmothers give presents. Pick out what you like. Can I go look now?”

“Yes,” Remus said quietly.

They looked at Remus when you walked away to go look at books. He shrugged and told them to have fun and get what they wanted. They— Hermione— piled books into their arms. Ron bought school supplies. Harry got a single book for himself and then a book for you that he would give you later. You stretched to grab a book with a pretty purple color. Remus put a hand on your waist and reached up to grab it for you. You turned to face him.

“You’ve done that before?” you asked. “I… I think they took that memory. They took a lot of memories.”

Remus took the pile from your hands and took it to checkout. He knew all about dementors. He had to before getting a job at Hogwarts back in Harry’s third year. But, that didn’t make it any easier to see the effects in real time on someone he cared about. You took the bag of books and looked at what the children bought, telling them to keep the change.

“This is a good time. First good memory.”

The kids smiled at you.

“I feel.” You looked at Remus. “Better than this morning’s peaceful. It’s different, like sunshine.”

“Happy.”

“I missed this feeling. You smile when you’re happy, right?”

The kids and Remus laughed while telling you yes. You nodded and shark smiled. The corners of Remus’ eyes crinkled up again. He didn’t care how awkward it looked. He loved to see your smile, see that you were trying. With books acquired, the next stop was for clothes. You didn’t spend very long shopping. You weren’t happy about the fact that nothing fit because it wasn’t as if the way you looked was your choice. Remus took you to the bedding section for what you really wanted. You scanned every duvet and blanket. It had to be soft. Softer than anything you ever felt before so you would forget Azkaban whenever you were wrapped in it.

He and the kids were on a mission to help. They easily got rid of blankets that weren’t remotely soft. Others that had potential were brought to you to feel. Hermione came up to you with a blanket that was a blueish grey. You held the blanket, fingers rubbing the fabric. You nodded.

“I like this one.”

“Alright. Books, clothes, a blanket. Anything else?” Remus asked after paying.

“I’m hungry. Can I eat?”

“Yeah, we can all go eat.”

Remus tried to make it seem like a suggestion instead of a command. That was the next step for everyone, trying to figure out how to get you to stop asking for things that you didn’t need to ask for. It was scary how you were completely dependent. Fourteen years of rules. He was hoping it wouldn’t take fourteen years to undo. It wasn’t a good way for you to live and it was devastating that you became terrified if no one said yes or no. Dementors weren’t around but you couldn’t register it. No one wanted a repeat of this morning.

The pub was nice. Anything was nice to you. With the aid of his friends, Harry continued telling you school stories. It got quiet when everyone laughed but you. You found that you didn’t know how anymore. It wasn’t easy to mimic like a smile was. It was a sound that you weren’t even sure you could make. You noticed that Remus and Hermione had a habit of clapping their hands when they laughed. So, you looked at Ron— who had told the joke— and clapped. You leaned to whisper in Remus’ ear.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Ron told a funny joke,” he whispered back.

“How do I know when something is funny?”

“I… I don’t know. Everyone has their own things they find funny.”

You nodded and ate while they continued sharing school tales. So, funny was different from happy and peaceful. But funny was something you couldn’t figure out. When you felt not scared, you were peaceful. When you felt like sunshine, it meant happiness and that was when you should smile. Funny? You didn’t know what to do. An opportunity came up when Hermione mentioned the first time her parents went to Diagon Alley and were fascinated but also scared of literally everything. The table was erupting in laughter at the notion of Mr. Granger screaming when an owl landed on him as they were buying Crookshanks.

“Ha ha,” you said quietly after watching how Harry laughed.

His was the quietest and most controlled. It seemed like it was the easiest to copy. Your ‘ha ha’ made them laugh harder. They all gave you big smiles. For the rest of the time if anyone said something funny, the table tried to say ‘ha ha’ instead of laughing. Remus ordered a second sandwich and you turned back to him.

“Can… can we keep sharing a bed?” you asked. “I liked not being alone.”

Remus stopped eating. You looked away, worried that you said the wrong thing. He swallowed his bite of food.

“Yeah,” he tried to recover. “Yeah, we can.”

They all watched you stiffen up when a bunch of Aurors came in to get lunch— dressed in the Auror uniform. Remus watched you start to shake. He reached for hand.

“Can we leave?”

He didn’t say anything as he quickly got up along with the kids. Your head stayed turned as you watched the Aurors sit down. Remus swung an arm over your shoulder and tried to block the view. He could feel you shaking like mad. You didn’t do well with anything that reminded you of the night you were taken to Azkaban. You all stopped when you were far enough away from the place. Remus directed you to a salon. He motioned for you to go sit in a chair. The kids watched him pull out money and hand it to the witch at the counter.

“Give her the… uh, all the…” he pointed to the board behind him.

The witch laughed and turned to the other women in the salon. “It’s a clueless husband package!”

One of the other witches clapped. “Oh, we haven’t done that in a few weeks! Come on, sit here.”

Remus blushed at the name they called out, stuttering through a response that he wasn’t your husband.

“Please be gentle with her, she—”

“We know. Came out in this morning’s Daily Prophet, not too hard to spot her.”

Remus nodded. He escorted the kids out once you were seated. They all followed him around as he went to the Magical Menagerie.

“She had a cat,” Remus told them. “Small little thing named Missy. You know cats better than I do, Hermione.”

The girl nodded and went through the pets. Harry was furious at his godfather that morning but felt his anger dripping away. Remus was trying. Hermione came back with the cat she deemed as the calmest out of all of them. Remus nodded and paid. He told the kids that they could go home while he waited for you but they wanted to stay. They all sat in the waiting chairs, taking the water that the employees gave them, and watched you get a shoulder massage while a woman was doing your feet. They passed the time with the kids asking Remus a bunch of questions and him answering.

“Tonks was yelling really loudly,” Harry admitted. “We, uh, we heard what you said about fancying Auntie (Y/N). When, how did that happen?”

Remus looked over at you. The kids noticed an automatic smile spread across his face as he watched you sigh when the cucumbers were put over your eyes.

“The day I woke up to her caring for one of my cuts when I was too tired. She was always nice to everyone and cared even when we didn’t. She had no reason to help but said she didn’t want anyone else to be in pain. The basilisk in your second year, Harry, she knew about it. It was at her command and she could’ve used it but didn’t even after some of the worst things. All four of us kind of fell in love with her towards the end of sixth year.”

“Professor,” Ron said. They still called him that, it just felt right. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t think so,” Remus answered truthfully. “I don’t deserve her and I fear she’d say yes, Pads and I are the only people she knows. I don’t want her to think that’s the only way she can stay with us— it’s a delicate situation.”

You approached them, showing Remus your nails.

“I asked for suns.” Your fingers wiggled the light orange background with darker orange suns on them.

“They look amazing,” he said as he grabbed your hand.

You all went home. When you asked to go outside before the sun set, Remus said he wanted to go with you. Remus didn’t mean to start tearing up again but neither he nor Sirius were going to be able to forgive themselves in a day. You wiped his tears and patted his head.

Comforting wasn’t something you were good at anymore but you knew all too well what sadness felt like. He kept apologizing for things that he couldn’t have done anything about. You tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. No one knew that you had never received a trial. They didn’t allow visitors to Azkaban. There was nothing he could have done.

Dinner meant everyone watched you sit with a blanket and a cat as you ate. The cat was a good thing for you. They had heard you murmuring to it whenever someone passed by. And the little creature was just a purr machine. A letter showed up to Grimmauld, not for you but for Harry. A few days later and you escorted Harry to his trial. The letter that came to Grimmauld was because he had cast a patronus charm outside of school.

As his godparents, you and Remus went with him. Remus left to go to a different department in the Ministry. Neither of you wanted to tell Harry in case it didn’t work but you were trying to get legal guardianship. Remus was going to let you have custody— you were wondering why he didn’t even put up a struggle. You understood when he said that he had fourteen years with Harry while you had none and splitting time was inconsiderate.

In reality, Remus didn’t want you tied to him by any means that you didn’t want. He could always see Harry whenever he wanted and it would be better than having to interact with the Durselys but he wasn’t going to have the Ministry enforce you being around him so he could be around the boy. He was just going to file the paperwork for you.

The officials overseeing the case got quiet when you sat in the visitors’ seats as Harry sat in the middle of the room. Your presence and how they messed up the first time made them very weary of how they approached Harry’s trial. Dumbledore and Mrs. Figgs’ words as his lawyer and witness were carefully considered. While it would only be expelling Harry and not Azkaban, they still wanted to be very careful. Some officials stopped paying attention to the trial and just looked at you. Of course it had only been a couple of weeks, nothing drastic could happen but they still wished you didn’t look so starved of everything. At least they could see the start of a person filling back out— partly because Molly tried to stuff you until you literally couldn’t hold food anymore.

The same pink woman who wanted to start a fuss at your hearing got her wish granted at Harry’s trial when she made it longer than necessary with remarks that you thought were stupid. Harry was let off with simply a reminder that if it wasn’t life or death, he has no business using magic outside of school until he comes of age. You jumped down from your visitor seat.

“Can we leave?” you asked the official.

They all knew about your condition, making everyone squirm even more at seeing it in action. The official told you yes while looking anywhere but your eyes. You stretched out a hand to your godson.

“Come, Harry, dear. Let’s go.”

The two of you left to go find Remus.

“You can still use magic,” you said.

“But the Min—”

“They track by house, not by wand. As long as you’re at Grimmauld, you and your friends are free to use magic. Just not outside the house.”

“Brilliant.”

Remus met you both, telling you vaguely that the paperwork was filed. If they ended up allowing you guardianship, you would move to a nice house where Harry could have a big room. You and Remus talked more in the safety of your bedroom that night. You told him that you wanted a job so you could feel like a better provider— Remus immediately said he would take up a better job and help you with Harry.

Jobs were questionable for both of you and he absolutely refused to accept your suggestions of letting you and Harry live off of your compensation, saying it was all yours to spend as frugally or frivolously as you wanted. He figured he would go back to Hogwarts. He had only left because he was worried that parents would protest a werewolf teaching but no one ever complained about his lessons. Students actually really liked him. He found that he actually liked teaching as well.

You didn’t know what you would do. You never got a chance to even work past cleaning Hogwarts. From school you became a spy and technically the Order did pay you but it wasn’t a real job. It wouldn’t be around forever either. But you didn’t think after Azkaban that you were capable of doing certain jobs that you might have in the past wanted to take. You turned in Remus’ arms. He looked down at you. He desperately wished to hold you like this all the time, that it wasn’t just because you didn’t want to be alone. But if the best he got was this then he would take it.

“Do you want to go to sleep now, Sunshine?”

You shook your head. Remus watched you put your chin on his chest and then put your head back down before repeating the action.

“What is it?”

“I…” you paused. “It might make you sad again.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“I don’t remember a lot of things like everyone else. They took a lot of memories…”

“I know.” He rubbed your shoulders. “It’s alright, Padfoot and I will help you.”

“I… I don’t remember any of sixth year except the sex.”

Remus’ hands faltered. He didn’t know they took that much. You looked at him.

“Was there anything important to remember?”

“Your father got you a bear for Christmas.”

You furrowed your brow. Christmas was at James’ house. You slowly nodded realizing there was a small gap in between being in James’ lap and then being in Remus’, that explained where the firewhiskey seemed to randomly come from. Your father’s packages must’ve included a firewhiskey with the bear. Remus wasn’t sure if there was anything else that was good he could tell you. His lip twitched when he realized something else.

“Do you remember the night you got hexed?”

“Which one?”

“After the pictures?”

“Mmm hmm. I came to your room and we made the deal again? I came to your room and— I only remember sitting in front of the four of you. Why?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

He said nothing but you could feel his grip tighten. Remus wasn’t sure when they got rid of your memories but could only assume the worst length of time. They barely made it up to you when they tried to give you one sweet experience in the bedroom to make up for the year of roughness that they had put you through. And now you didn’t even have that. You settled down on him so you could sleep. He was left up thinking about how you only remembered all the rough spankings and harsh touches while you were alone.

The Order turned when you and Harry came home from Diagon Alley. You wanted to take him to get his school stuff— still asking before leaving the house. The stupor that the boy had been in ever since Cedric and the dementors almost killing Dudley was slowly fading away. Having you around was one of the best things. Everyone saw the way you doted on him as best as you could and how the boy ate it right up. Mrs. Weasley was a mother figure but she had seven other children that she had been focused on her entire life. Harry was yours as far as you both were concerned. You had time for him that he just didn’t get from others. The rest of summer was a healing of sorts for both of you. Harry made up most of the new memories you had— Sirius and Remus made up the rest.

You came back after putting up your blanket and grabbing your cat, Turnip. You sat down between Remus and Sirius and before you could ask, Sirius set down butterbeer and your lunch. He and Remus tried to be ahead of you in requests. You were still asking for permission to do everything so they had taken to being one step ahead of you. Food was given before you could ask. Sirius suggested showers and bathroom breaks once he figured out when you usually went— it was scary that it was almost the same time every day. Remus suggested going outside the moment he saw your mouth open. They figured that maybe if you couldn’t get a chance to ask questions, you would slowly stop.

“I spent my money today,” you told everyone. “By myself.”

“Yeah?”

They all became interested, this would have been the first time that you had gotten money out from Gringotts without asking someone first.

Sirius put a hand on your shoulder. “What did you buy?”

“I bought two things.”

“Big or small?”

“Very big.”

“Very big? Do we get to see them? Are they more blankets?”

You shook your head and shark smiled. “I bought James’ and Lily’s house, no one ever fixed it.”

“You bought it?”

“For Harry. I thought he might want it later even if it’s just to sell it.”

“That’s incredible,” Tonks spoke up. “What’s the other thing?”

“The cottage I wanted in Godric’s Hollow, I got good news.”

Harry was confused when you handed him the letter that Kreacher had dropped off before you both left for Diagon Alley that morning. He opened it up and read over it. The table watched his mouth drop open as he looked up at you.

“I can live with you? For real?”

“They approved.” You nodded. “If you want—”

“I want to,” Harry interjected.

“Okay. Harry and I are moving,” you stated.

“When?” Remus asked.

“This weekend—” You looked over at him. “We’re moving.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“You didn’t.” He acknowledged.

“I didn’t… no more leaving rules.”

“Okay,” Remus said nonchalantly.

You nodded and stood up. “I’m going outside. I’m going to go outside and then get chocolate.”

They watched you set down Turnip, take your food, and leave. Moody laughed, hands clapping hysterically. The whole table erupted in smiles or laughter. This was the first real breakthrough that they saw.

The park was nice when you got outside even though it was a cloudy day. You frowned at the thought of potential rain. Rain was pretty but rain meant you had to be inside. You laid out your blanket and set down your little bowl of fruit and your drink. The bowl of fruit contained different cut up melons in the shape of stars— Sirius’ idea. You carefully ate the fruit and just sat there, content. The park added beautiful sounds and ambience to your sitting.

“Oh, no, don’t bother the lovely woman. Harvey, Mary come b—”

You looked over when two small lumps ran into your shoulder, making you jump to the high heavens. The small lumps were toddlers that were now sitting on your blanket as if surprised that running into someone would make them fall down. You gave a small wave that was returned enthusiastically. A very stressed young woman came running over.

“I’m sorry. It’s the first time their parents have been gone on a business trip and they’re really struggling with the adjustment.”

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “I can share my blanket. You seem like you need a break.”

“Thank you.” The woman sat down on the bench next to your blanket. “I’ve just been upgraded from day time nanny to full-time and, wow, am I not handling it too well— Oh, Mary, you can’t just touch strangers’ things.”

You didn’t try to smile in case the awkward look frightened the toddlers but shook your head and handed Mary a piece of fruit. Harvey began to whine until he was handed a piece as well.

“I have a godson named Harry, almost Harvey.”

The woman chuckled. “Harry sounds like a much calmer name than Harvey. Would you like to switch?”

“He’s fifteen.”

“Even better, he can cut his own sandwiches.”

You were grateful she turned to look at a jogger go by. You weren’t exactly sure how well your “ha ha” would go over with someone that didn’t understand. Mary had no concept of personal space. She crawled into your lap much to her poor nanny’s horror. You said it was fine. Truly, it was all fine. Neither baby shied away when you gave them a shark smile before thinking better of it. They just mimicked you like it was normal before digging into your fruit because giving them one piece somehow said they had free reign over the bowl.

Maybe that could be your new job, you thought as they took more fruit. Children don’t judge— babies. Babies don’t judge. And their emotions are simple. Your shark smiles and ‘ha ha’s would be fine in a daycare. You wouldn’t need complicated magic to take care of them— you were still struggling to keep your hand from shaking long enough to cast a spell. They said you’d eventually get the magic back. They said end of the year but you didn’t believe them. It felt like it would take a lot longer.

And you hadn’t really been determined to try and practice. You were still just trying to enjoy everything before they took you back to prison. Because you didn’t believe them about that either. If they threw you in so easily, why wouldn’t they take you back? Your father was still out there. Your spy cover hadn’t been revealed aside from the few who knew about it. You were still associated with Lord Voldemort and that was enough to get you your cell back you were sure of it.

Mary and Harvey waved their little fingers goodbye and gave you the same shark smile that you gave them. You chuckled, eyes going wide at the action. It was a genuine one. More of a snort through your nose but genuine. You understood what Remus meant by people had their own things they found funny. You didn’t realize what your smile looked like until the toddlers showed you and it was funny because you realized that you looked ridiculous. Today was a good day.

You got your stuff and headed to the muggle pharmacy to get chocolate. The lady out the counter observed you as you grabbed the chocolate. You were painfully aware of what you looked like still. You tried to push Azkaban to the back of your mind as much as you could but moments when people watched you made it hard. It was also during moments like now, as you reached for the chocolates which you found in the aisle with feminine products.

Apparently, the three chocolates that were most popular with women on their periods were put near the aisle so their panicked partners could easily get it for them along with whatever feminine products they needed. You haven’t had a period for a while. Dementors and not the best food tended to do that. More people had entered the store so you went to the pharmacy counter in the back where the older lady with the lab coat who was watching earlier gave you a smile, trying to seem as non-judgemental as possible.

“Um, about the…” You pointed to the feminine products behind. “When does it come back?”

“Are you in recovery, dear?”

You just nodded. How do you explain to a muggle that it was recovery from dementors not an eating disorder.

“It really depends, some people see it in literally a few weeks, others take a whole year. You’re best off buying a pack of what you like so it doesn’t surprise you and then just wait.”

You thanked her and left so you could pack your stuff for the move. Harry opened the door for everyone. They weren’t sure if they’d ever seen a smile that big on his face. They had left the two of you alone for an entire week after moving out of Grimmauld so you could get your bearings. It was two days before the kids needed to go back to Hogwarts and you invited them all over. Harry ushered everyone in. They looked around from the front entrance. The cottage was nice. It was painted in warm tones and all the furniture was warm as well.

“Auntie! They’re here!” Harry turned to his friends. “Do you want to see my room?”

The adults watched the children— plus Fred and George— follow Harry into the house. You came down from upstairs as Harry started to go up them.

“Sorry,” you said as you gave them all hugs. “I was changing into something with sleeves.”

They all shook their heads because they understood as you shivered. You held onto Remus a bit longer than anyone else, loving how warm he was. You directed everyone to the living room as you set the food in the oven. Tonks tilted her head as they started walking to where you pointed. She stopped everyone when you left to go into the kitchen. They looked at where she pointed to the sidewall of the front entrance right next to them.

“That’s the exact number of days she’s been out of Azkaban. She’s still keeping tallies.”

They all shifted uncomfortably and moved into the living room like you said. You came back with drinks for everyone. You seemed the same as when you left Grimmauld. But they all noticed the immense change in Harry. You sat in between Remus and Sirius and just listened to people talk. The Order was sending people on missions again. Moody shifted awkwardly.

“Do you think you can go back out there, (Y/N)?” he asked. “You were the best help we ever got.”

Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You were a great help back then but they didn’t want to push you. You started shivering harder. Sirius looked around the couch, spotting a basket of blankets. He threw one over your shoulders and another over your lap. You looked at Moody.

“I don’t want to get sent back.”

“I promise no matter what happens, we won’t let you go back there.”

“Alr—”

Everyone became alarmed when your eyes squeezed shut. Hermione came running downstairs followed by the others that were holding onto Harry. He was clutching his scar and Hermione was just telling everyone how it randomly started hurting when they were upstairs. Attention went back to you when you called Harry over. None of them could understand but they all knew what parseltongue sounded like. Remus moved over so Harry could sit down. They watched you pat the boy’s head as it rested on your shoulder.

“You hear him too, don’t you?” Harry asked.

“You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t still be attached, the residual should have worn off by now.”

“Maybe because you were in Azkaban? It wasn’t strong enough to detach completely?”

“Hmm, maybe… I’m sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m okay.”

You looked up at everyone else. “Should we go eat dinner?”

Slowly, they all sat at the dining room table. Everyone was unsure of what just happened, not privy to the conversation between you and your godson. Remus and Sirius relaxed when you told Moody that you couldn’t do it. But it wasn’t for fear of going back to Azkaban. It was because of Harry. You knew when they took you to Azkaban and a year later you heard whispering. The whispers turned into visions and you knew your father was still alive. Which meant there were a few horcruxes left that they missed. They had gotten the snake, the cup, the ring, the locket, and the diadem.

You never knew where the diary was. But those whispers had let you know after it was too late for you to ever tell anyone. And then you had felt that pain one day and, based on your godson’s stories, knew that it was the same day Harry stabbed the diary. But the whispers never stopped and the visions only got stronger and Azkaban gave you time to come to the terrible conclusion that there was a seventh horcrux.

And you knew the seventh. You were sharing a cell with it. You had arrived at Godric’s Hollow quickly after James and Lily’s death. Whatever created a horcrux that night had settled on Harry but hadn’t attached. And you had arrived to save him, presenting a stronger and more stable host than the baby.

You didn’t feel comfortable spying and being away after discovering that Harry still had residuals from the little time that he was sharing his body with a piece of Voldemort’s soul. The last thing you needed was your father figuring out how to manipulate your godson without you having a way to get him. You had already written to him that just like before, you were headed to America. He believed you. He thought it was best after Azkaban. He expected you home when it was all over but thought you should find yourself again. Whatever he was doing, your father didn’t know that you were a horcrux. He was messing with Harry from whatever magic connection he thought he had to the child. You couldn’t let it slip to him that you were able to see it all which would happen if you went back.

You stood on Platform 9 and ¾ waving goodbye to Harry. He enthusiastically waved back. The cottage was going to be empty now. You weren’t sure what to do. Remus and Sirius seemed to sense that when you got quiet as you walked between them. They stood at the door when you leaned against the doorframe.

“Do you really like Grimmauld?” you asked them.

Sirius shook his head. “Fucking hate that place. Can’t get mum’s old picture down for anything.”

“Do you want to live here? With me?”

They both walked through the door, noticing how you relaxed. You had a thing about being alone. You had been alone for fourteen years and found it hard to cope. Even when you tried to think about how you were alone at Hogwarts, it was just different after being subjected to dementors. And Turnip’s constant meows weren’t enough to make you forget that. Sirius and Remus packed up their stuff from Grimmauld in less than two hours. Sirius took the guest room that was downstairs. Remus didn’t get to pick. He thought he was going into the final guest room upstairs but you asked if he wanted to share with you again.

He was warmer than any amount of blankets and cuddling Turnip could get you. He left the room for you to take a shower while he and Sirius tried to get comfortable in their new home. When Sirius left to go shower, Remus went upstairs to find you sitting on the bed in just a towel. He immediately moved to kneel in front of you when he saw a tear slip from your eyes. You shook your head.

“Good tears,” you said.

“Why are we crying good tears?”

“I feel a bit happy.”

Remus paused. That was the first time you had ever said that you felt happy. You had felt good, often you would say that you felt better than peaceful. But recognizing happiness had never really worked— it wasn’t as easy as figuring out calm and peaceful. You nodded your head and shark smiled.

“We dropped off Harry today. It felt good, he likes Hogwarts. I’m happy he and his friends are going back to a place they like… it’s not a lot, just a bit of happy. This much.” You held up a pinky.

Remus laughed and locked his pinky around yours. “That’s a good bit of happy. It’s a brilliant amount of happy.”

You went to bed holding onto that happiness. You spent most of your days holding onto that. There hadn’t been instances that gave you any more than a pinky of happiness but you took the small bit that you got. The happiness was apparent when you did things for other people. Sirius said nothing as you handed him another new blanket— his room was going to be overflowing with them soon. Remus had already warned the entire Order behind your back that you had a thing about buying people gifts now.

He told them to accept it, it made you feel better to see everyone warm and comfortable. He was sure that it calmed you to make sure no one could feel an ounce of what you did in Azkaban. So people accepted the blankets you sent them, the books with notes, and the drinks you made Remus or Sirius charm to keep warm. It got to the point where the entirety of Gryffindor was shocked the first time they all got owl deliveries with blankets because you remembered that Gryffindor dorms started getting cold after the first month of school. And then you had to send blankets to your House, especially after hearing a boy from Hufflepuff died. And then you felt bad so you sent blankets to all the students… and the faculty. And then because Harry was your godson, before Halloween, a second set of blankets and chocolate was sent to his House. Everyone thought his godmother was awesome.

The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were crying from laughing at the fact that this was how you were spending your compensation from the Ministry. Remus and Sirius were the same way when Harry wrote to them about it and then they picked up a bunch of letters at the post-office from students that they didn’t even know saying thank you. When her said to spend the money you were owed as frivolously as you wanted, Remus expected the house to be overflowing with stuff, not you adopting every child in Hogwarts. Both men only stopped teasing when it occurred to them that you were taking care of everyone to make sure no one at Hogwarts went through what you went through, at least not completely alone.

The teasing did resume, however, when they found out you sent a personalized blanket to Cho Chang with a stuffed toy pumpkin and candy. You looked confused because Harry said he liked her. Were you not supposed to do that? Sirius was a mess on the floor because both he and Remus knew that Harry wasn’t that smooth to ever think of anything like that and you wrote in the note that he picked out everything. Harry, on the other hand, wrote back that Cho was wrapped in the blanket when coming down from the owlery and gave him a smile as she held up the candy box.

The only downside to being in the cottage was Remus only found himself falling in love with you even more. Every shark smile melted his heart. He started helping you keep tallies on the front entrance when you panicked that he saw you doing such a thing. Sirius wouldn’t say anything but every time he saw the two of you he swore it was like staring at a married couple.

He kept trying to push his friend to say something through subtle shoulder shoves and looks with his eyes. The man even started dating again just to push his friend. Sirius’ last relationship wasn’t the best and after everything that was going on with Harry’s school, he thought it best to wait until Voldemort was defeated to get back into dating. But because he couldn’t stand watching Remus pine after you but not do anything, Sirius started going out a little bit and telling you both about his dates. Remus didn’t say anything but slowly became more open with you.

“We’re going now,” Sirius said as he gave you a hug.

It was Moony Night, something that was rougher now that it was just Sirius and Remus. You and Turnip cuddled on the couch and read while waiting for them. It would be a while before they came back. You had nothing to do but read until they got back, not wanting to go to sleep until you knew they were both safe in the house. You heard the front door open downstairs. Both men smiled as they walked through the house to see two cups of hot chocolate set down for them. Exhausted, they gulped down the cups and placed them in the sink. Remus trudged upstairs, for once jealous that Sirius was on the first floor. He put on sweatpants and decided he was too tired to do anything more.

You set your book down and grabbed the pot of cream when Remus laid down in the bed. He held his breath as you straddled him to carefully rub the cream on his face. Part of him hurt at seeing there wasn’t an ounce of recognition in your face that you two had done this before. You only remembered cleaning his cuts the first time… before he made you ride him. That memory made Remus move his hands from your thighs and just clutch the bedsheets. He couldn’t help but think of it when you were on him. Despite the promise of forgiving himself, certain things would always bring up bad thoughts. This was one of them.

He thought of it as you leaned over to start dabbing cream to the scratches by his hairline. He was pretty sure you hated that day. He remembered not letting you adjust— they never did— but you clearly weren’t having a good time in that position. And then he denied you because Wormtail had suggested they do that for the entire month of December and pushed you off of him. It got harder to ignore the bad thoughts after your revelation that you didn’t remember anything but the bad parts of sixth year. You knew that you had become somewhat close to them in seventh year. You knew that sex stopped but you didn’t remember a single way they tried to make it up to you.

That pained him the most, the fact that you spent Azkaban thinking that they just stopped but never tried to apologize. He thought that he should apologize again. Because you deser—

“Can I kiss you, Remmy?”

His thoughts were broken immediately. “What, I mean why?”

Your face dropped as you quickly moved to sit up. Remus recovered and grabbed your wrist— not too harsh because he honestly thought that he could break you know.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “I jus— you want to kiss me?”

You nodded. “You help me a lot. I feel different with you now. Like… I feel… like outside and the bookstore and the happy pinky, all at once.”

You dropped your forehead against his chest. Remus could feel the heavy breaths as he rubbed your back. It was genuinely infuriating that you couldn’t find words to describe what you felt. You felt like a toddler any time you tried to express an emotion that leaned towards the positive side. It was never a problem when you were by yourself or with Harry. But now this was important to you and you couldn’t express what you wanted.

Remus’ hands danced across your back. He was tired, and pretty sure he was dreaming, but alert all the same time. His hand slowly moved to your face, careful to only cup your cheek and not your chin. He was never going to say anything, never. Remus felt it was unfair. He would forever feel like he didn’t deserve a chance with you for a host of reasons. But you asked to kiss him. He was sure you also attempted a confession. And he’d be damned if he ever denied his sunshine ever again.

“I love you, too,” Remus said. “Merlin, I do. I’m sorry for everything we did to you and I don’t deserve yo—”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s true. I don’t. No one in this entire wizarding world deserves you, sweet girl. You’re too good for everyone. I love you so much. Can I kiss you?”

He waited for a nod or the word yes— he’d never do anything ever again without explicitly getting your consent. His lips pressed softly against yours. Hands left your face to rest back on your waist. Smiling into the kiss, Remus added a little more energy. You dropped your head into the crook of his neck when the two of you pulled apart. Remus felt a gentle kiss to his neck. He held onto you as he turned you both to your side. For the first time in a long time after one of his moon nights, Remus fell into a peaceful sleep.

(Part 12)

#remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Pre-Game Rituals (Fred Weasley)

Request: Hiya!! I was wondering if you could do an imagine with Fred. Where Ginny kind of idolises her like at hogwarts she’s always goes up to the reader and asks if she can do her hair for quidditch practice or something...

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.3k

The common room was dead with activity for a Saturday, although that was in large part due to the anticipated match up between Gryffindor and Slytherin tonight. You loved attending Quidditch games, especially seeing as most of your friends were on the Gryffindor team and you got to cheer them on alongside Hermione. Getting to see your boyfriend knocking opponents around and acting as a human bowling ball was an obvious plus as well. Before most games, your boyfriend would coin you into a pre-game ritual, which happened to be a nap. He claimed these snooze sessions next to you gave him his energy to play but, you’d seen him take his O.W.L.s on two hours of sleep and a ‘stay-awake’ creation him and his twin brewed up. Cuddled up in bed sounded like a blissful dream to you on any given occasion but currently, you were in the middle of another event. Not only did you have a pre-game ritual with your boyfriend, you also had one with his little sister who was on the team as well. A few hours to the start of every Gryffindor match, Ginerva Weasley goes prancing around the castle with her hairbrush in hand, searching for you and today was no different.

Your fingers brushed through the ginger locks as you separated the left half of Ginny’s hair into three parts. The silk like strands slipped through your parted fingers as you detangled the frizzed knots. Ginny’s hair was by far the most beautiful you had seen so you hardly turned down her request when she’d ask you to braid her hair. Her deep red hair mixed with auburn tones and long wisps was a unique find outside Hogwarts. Having the Weasley siblings around meant you saw a head of ginger around nearly every corner. In the Muggle world though, you had only passed a few with hair that resembled theirs.

However in those sightings, you never saw a single person whose hair was as fiery and bold as Ginny’s. There were times Ginny despised the color as it made her stick out like a sore thumb and put no mystery in identifying her. Everyone knew on sight that she was a Weasley. To you, she felt the flaming shade complimented Ginny, as well as her personality, to perfection. The youngest Weasley differed immensely from her siblings. Not only in terms of gender, personality as well. It could be argued she was the bravest of the bunch. Already faster on the Quidditch pitch than her older brother Ron, and possibly sneakier than her older twin brothers, Fred and George.

With a small pull, you began to braid from the top of Ginny’s head. You raked in a new strand of hair after every weave. Ginny’s hair was not only long but thick and heavy in weight. It always took a bit more force and harsh knotting to make sure the braids actually stuck, especially seeing as she’d be flying like the wind in a few hours, she needed them tight.

Ginny Weasley sat lazily in a criss-cross style shoulders hunched forward. It was unusual for her not to be talking your ear off in these moments. Ginny always had a story to share, a secret to tell, or an embarrassing memory of her brothers to spill. There was yet to come a day where she ran out of cringe worthy moments of your boyfriend, and her brother, Fred, to leak. In those countless hair sessions, a friendship outside your connection to Ginny through Fred formed. Within a month of hanging out with the youngest Weasley, you sincerely considered her to be a close friend. Between the endless laughter and feistiness of Ginny, a strong friendship grew. You could tell something was off but with Ginny, it was better to give her time to come around and at least open up a bit before you questioned her.

That moment seemed to be approaching as the bottom section of the braid fell from your grasp as Ginny moved her frame abruptly. Her head falling to face the floor caused your hold in her hair to grab her body back a bit. Resting your hand on her shoulder, you leaned her back so she was up snug against the bottom of the couch you sat on.

“You gotta stop fidgeting, Gin. Your braid is gonna be crooked if you keep squirming around!” You smiled softly down at Ginny but as her head turned to face you, you were shocked to find her face was dull, long like a horse. That one-of-a-kind glimmering light that typical lit her eyes was blown out. The residue left a worrisome display instead. She sent you an apologetic look then turned back to face the fire. Her body was as straight as a line and as stiff as Harry’s Great Aunt.

“Sorry… just a bit distracted.” The raspiness in her voice made you wonder if she felt ill. Usually before a match the young girl couldn’t sit still! Her knees would bounce in excitement and you’d have to pin her down to get the braids in but today, she was hardly moving an inch. Pausing your braid in the middle of her scalp, you arch your brows to Ginny.

“What’s on your mind Ginny?”

“A bit nervous about the match- that’s all.” She dismissed your worries with a sigh, clearly still crackling under stress. Although Ginny was your boyfriend's little sister, with time, she became your little sister. You stopped thinking of her as Fred’s sister and one of your best friends. Seeing her flooded with pressure caused concern in you as well but she looked up to you and it was partially your duty to make sure the self doubts you had as a young girl never disrupted Ginny.

Giving the girl a gentle smile, your hands began to rake through her hair again. The first braid was half way done so you resumed your work as you reassured her,

“Slytherin never plays fair but I believe in you guys. You’re gonna pull it off, don’t stress. Just fly clear of Malfoy and Flint and you should be fine.”

“Yeah you’re right…” She trailed off. Furrowing your fixation on her hair, you slowly pried further.

“What else is the matter-” But before you could seek out any further information, your body jerked forward as two arms snaked around your upper body. You shrieked in freight then quickly whipped your head around to see Fred Weasley grinning down at you. Should’ve guessed, you thought to yourself. He was bound to come searching for you sooner or later and drag you to his room for a nap.

“Ah, I was wondering where the two of you snuck off to. Good afternoon, angel.” Fred leaned his head towards you to kiss your cheek. After leaving one, he left another, and another, and another until you had to push him back. You managed to hold onto the already started braid as you held Fred back with your hand on his chest. His hand immediately went to cover yours and squeeze on your grip, then pulled away glancing between his sister sitting in front of you and yourself.

“Hello, lovie. Where is the other, less annoying half of you?” You smiled a sickly sweet grin to Fred as he gave you a warning glare. Reaching up, you used your free hand to pull Fred down by his collar and placed a sugared kiss to his lips. Always ready for your affection Fred returned the kiss softly, his hands cupping around your chin to leaned your head back. An awkward cough ruined the mood as Ginny fidgetted silently. Fred released his grip on your face at once and threw his leg over the couch. Inviting himself into the conversation, he threw either leg over the maroon couch and slipped in besides you. His face was bright and gleeful, the apples of his cheeks a tint red. The orange hair sprouting down to his shoulders was brighter, shinier than normal. You felt your heart race at the sight. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, Fred glued himself snug to your side.

“Flirting with Alicia or Katie, can’t tell,” He tossed his head back to motion over to his twin talking up your friends in the corner. The three were laughing and talking hushly, all huddled close. You stopped your hands to glance over, then looked down as you felt Ginny moving beneath you. Fred drummed his finger on the right unbraided, half of her head causing the girl to blindly swing her arm backwards trying to swat at him. You scolded him sternly, threatening him if he messed up the half you were working on. Chuckling at her flailing arms and your attempt at being stern, Fred leaned back into the couch and tossed his arm around your shoulder. “You ready for the big match, Gin?”

Although the only portion visible was the backside of her head, both Fred and yourself watched her shudder and wince at the inquiry. Fred was happier than ever which was a typical mood for him on any given day but especially the day of a match. Most felt the nervous butterflies and sickening feeling before an important game but Fred? You were almost 100% positive Fred had never experienced the feeling of anxiousness. His confidence seemed to flourish under pressure.

Ginny was never to the big stage, though. She didn’t bask in the glory and attention the same way her brothers did. There was that fear of not living up to everyones expectations that crept into her mind as she took the pitch each match. Ginny ducked her head as she scratched the side of her neck.

“Uh huh.” Ginny’s sigh earned a frown on Fred’s lips. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t adorable. The concern read from his features as he sent you a short look. He had an idea based off the alarming gleam in your eyes, but as her brother, he wasn’t willing to back off. His long arms tightened around your shoulder as he tilted his head to Ginny in question.

“You don’t sound very confident at all- what’s the matter with you? It’s the biggest match of the season!” He cheered loudly, causing the young girl to jump in her spot. You tucked the three strands in a weaving pattern trying everything in your power to finish as quickly as you could so Ginny would be free to escape this conversation. Maybe it was a male thing but Fred was just not reading the room correctly. Between Ginny’s uncomfortable shifting and your stern stares, he still just wasn’t understanding her nerves. You snatched the hair tie off the couch cushion and wrapped it around the end of her braid. Tapping his side with your elbow, you looked to Fred sternly.

“I think she realizes that, Fred. Let’s not stress her out even more.” Your tone was pointed and you expected Fred to pick up but clearly, it went straight over his head. This earned a raspy chuckle of disbelief from Fred. Slipping his grip from your waist, Fred leaned forward. Placing his elbows on his knees, his chin rested in the palm of his hands. He had a teasing look as he scoffed,

“Stressed? Since when has a game ever stressed you out, Ginny? You’re the youngest starter on our team! There’s no need to be worried about anything.” Fred’s face was bright with excitement at thought at the upcoming match. His rosy cheeks were squished as he smiled gleefully. A loud groan emanated from Ginny as she threw her head back in frustration, though remained silent. Her once lively orbs reddening by the second as salty tears brimmed. The grin vanished from Fred’s face. He turned to you in confusion, his face resembling that of a wounded puppy.

At times, Fred had moments where he didn’t particularly like his little sister, but he always loved her. It was the brotherly instinct in him; the constant need to keep a watchful eye out for Ginny. He knew she could hold her own, but he couldn’t help that protective nature. Sending him a sharp look, you muttered quietly under your breath,

“Nice work…”

The common room was slowly beginning to scatter out as students made the most of their time before the big match. You caught a glimpse of George walking out the portrait with Lee by his side. You wondered what kind of mischief they were up to, it certainly couldn’t be anything good. Harry and Ron were trudging up the staircase to their room assumingly and Hermione was sitting on the opposite side of the room reading quietly. The atmosphere was relaxed like the calm before a storm. Win or lose, the common room would be buzzing with energy tonight. It was just a matter of happy celebration, or tense aftermath of defeat.

You reached out for the right half of Ginny’s hair and repeated your steps. You parted the bright strands and braided them tightly.

Fred on the other hand was lost to his sister’s emotions and eager for answers. Reaching forward, Fred squeezed Ginny’s shoulder in a comforting manner. His face was scrunched together in concern as he sweetly asked her,

“… what’s the matter, little one? I’m sure your big brother can help.”

You had to physically bite your tongue to keep from ‘aweing’ at him. The one thing you loved more than anything about Fred was how caring and comforting he could be. Your heart was dripping in adoration. There had been a handful of moments you heard Fred refer to Ginny as ‘Little One’. It was typically in mocking sense or playful, however in her fragile moments, it was said with such serenity and gentleness. He was always there to help his little sister and protect her. You couldn’t help but imagine how great of a dad Fred would be in the future. He was the only man you could ever see yourself with and knowing how great of a person he truly is just made you even more certain.

Standing from the couch, Fred shuffled around the two of you so he was sitting in front of Ginny. She sniffled quietly using the sleeve of her sweater to rub her eyes. Your eyes darted between the half finished braid and the pair. Fred was patient in giving Ginny her time and finally, she came around.

“What if I lose it for us? If we don’t win, everyone is gonna hate me! It’ll be my fault and Oliver will probably kick me off the team and I’ll have nothing! And you’ll all be mad at me and mum and dad will be disappointed-” Her frantic ramble was shut down when Fred started to talk over her. It was a crazy thought; one he could not allow to marinate in her mind.

“What’re you talking about? Do you even hear yourself, Ginny?” His voice was booming causing both Ginny and yourself to jump in surprise. Your eyes met for a brief second before he took a deep breath, “First off; Oliver Wood has lost a handful of matches for us and he’s still our captain. I mean, Harry has fallen off his bloody broomstick how many times and he’s still our top Seeker! You’re the best one on that pitch Ginny- well besides George and I, but you know what I mean.” Fred chuckled a bit as a small smile cracked on Ginny’s lips. Her eyes lifted from the ground to glance up at her brother. From your spot on the couch, you couldn’t read her features. You were also too invested in the braid to look away. But Fred bending down to wrap his arms around his sister and practically squish her was answer enough. Ginny squealed at Fred’s bone crushing grip, pleading with him to let go.

You rolled your eyes at the siblings, laughing to yourself as you finished securing the hair tie in the finished braid. Leaning back you smoothed your fingers over the weaved pattern. Her hair was somehow more ginger in this style and you adored it. Peaking your head over Ginny’s shoulder, you pointed out,

“And I don’t think it’s even possible for your parents to be disappointed in you. Fred, George and Ron destroyed the family car and your parents still love them and forgave them.”

“Well I wouldn’t say forgave-” Fred winced as he recalled the event. It had been years and Molly still brought it up when she was angry with the boys. They all knew it was something they’d never fully live down in Molly’s eyes. Even on her deathbed Fred was certain she’d find a way to bring it up. Flicking the material of his sweatshirt, you glared playful at Fred for his interruption. You wrapped Ginny in a hug from behind, your arms captured around her shoulders. She melted in your grip, embracing your comforting hold. Fred folded his legs together and just sort of watched.

There was a sudden jolt of awe, that moment where everything just clicked. It came out of nowhere like a car speeding through a red light. His back pressed into the coffee table for support while he just stared. There was no one more important in this world to Fred Weasley than his family. Seeing his little sister hurt and finding solace in you, it was difficult for Fred to string together the proper words on how it made him feel. The emotions brewing inside him were entirely new- like the feeling of opening presents on Christmas morning and finding you got everything that you asked for. This sheer hypnotic haze that covered Fred went unbeknownst to you as your attention stayed locked on Ginny.

“What I’m trying to say is, it really is just a game. No one's gonna disown you if you make a mistake; Freddie here makes twenty mistakes before breakfast every morning. And even if they are bigger and play dirty, you’re faster and smarter than their entire lineup combined. We all believe in you, Ginny. I’ve seen you do it a million different times and I’ll be right there cheering you on.” Letting go of her, your head lifted to greet the eyes of Fred Weasley. Immediately you took notice of the change in his gaze. Still mesmerizing as ever to be under, yet heavier than before. Instead of throwing a childish jab back, he just held your stare, speechless for once.

Your head tilted in confusion at his odd behavior as Ginny placed her hands on either side of her body to push herself up. This seemed to pull Fred from his trance as he mimicked her actions and stood from the floor. Brushing off her pants and sweater, she gave you both a look of gratitude and said,

“Thank you, Y/n. It really means a lot- thank you too, Freddie.”

“ ‘course, we’ll always be here for you- even if we do lose, you’ll still be my favorite sister.” Fred said with a cheek smirk. Ginny rolled her eyes in slight annoyance. Just when he was sweet, he was sour once again.

“I’m your only sister Fred but thanks. I should probably go get some homework finished so I’ll see you down at the pitch later. Thanks for doing my hair, Y/n. You’re the best- I wish you really were my sister.”

“So you’re telling me, after all this time, I’m not your sister?” You asked teasingly. Ginny laughed happily, clearly pleased with your response. Fred knew how much Ginny looked up to you, how badly she wants to follow in your footsteps, and it makes him thrilled. Not only does he loves how much his sister adores you, but how great of a role model you are to her. He understood how easy it could be to shove her away or dismiss her, and Fred wouldn’t blame you if you did. However you never once turned Ginny away and it played a role in his feelings evolving so intensely. Her cheeks tinted red as she gave you one last wave and skipped up the steps to her dorm. As she disappeared from view, you looked over to Fred only to see his eyes already planted on you. The weight of his stare was suffocating and made you fidget. The second you met his gaze, Fred’s mouth dropped open as he confessed,

“I’m in love with you.” The word vomit rolled effortlessly from his lips. The contagious smile Fred seemed to constantly cause rose to your face. Having been together for some years, Fred was no stranger to broadcasting his feelings for you. Something about this felt more serious than the other times. Sinking into the cushion, you nodded over to the boy in agreeance.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Shaking his head, Fred lunged forward so he was kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped inside your own as he set your intertwined hands in your lap. That playfulness has been swept away as his eyes read full honesty. Fred’s soft features were rough, sharp on the edges as his jaw clenched with tension. Giving your hand a loving squeeze, Fred locked his eyes on yours.

“No, Y/n, I’m like, Alice fell down the rabbit hole, deeply in love with you- I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Just… promise me you’ll stick around, okay?” His voice was filled with worry and fear. You jumped forward to crunch him in a tight embrace. Fred chuckled at your abruptness but exchanged the hug nonetheless. His fingers trailed up and down the bones of your spine drawing circles and shapes as he rubbed your back. You could feel his nose pressing into your hair and soon enough, a sloppy kiss was planted on your head. Grinning like a fool, you glanced up to him with a cheesy smile.

“Hate to break it to you, Fred, but I’m not going anywhere, sorry.” You remarked, reaching up on your tippy toes to kiss his lips. Fred leaned into your lips, his hands wrapping around your waist for support. As he pulled away, you noticed that one of a kind glint reached his eyes. Before you could hypothesize his next move, Fred’s arm swooped around your lower back to scoop you up from your legs. He lifted you up and repositioned so he was carrying you in his arms. You hollered in surprise as Fred just chuckled.

“Good, don’t think I’d let you anyhow, angel. Now c’mon, someone owes me a nap.” He stated, sending you a cheeky wink. Fred began to walk towards the stairwell heading towards the boys dormitory. Clinging to his arm, you glared deathly to Fred.

“If you drop me I am writing to Molly the second I can reach a quill and parchment.” You threatened. Fred walked through the opening to the staircase then started to skip up the steps, still holding your body. You shook with every step, trying your best to mask your giggles with angry looks and sneers. Tightening his face, Fred thought on it for a moment then scowled at the idea.

“Relax, Y/n. Don’t have to take it that far- I just said I’m in love with you and that’s how you’re gonna treat me.” He teased you. His room was on the second to top floor and you could tell you were approaching by the way he slowed down. Fred’s fingers tickled at your side as he made his way towards his door. Instead of setting you down, Fred swung the door open still grasping on to you. He wasted no time slamming the door shut and practically flinging you onto his bed. Your melodic laughter filled every inch of his room making Fred glow red in pleasure. He tugged off his robes and tie, then crawled into his bed next to you. You reached over the side of the mattress for a comfy shirt of his and some pajama pants he kept lying around. He couldn’t tear his gaze, nor did he want to. Winking over to Fred, you threw his comforter over your body and cuddled up next to him.

“If it’s any constellation, I’m like, furthest rock down in the ocean, deeply in love with you.” You admitted softly. Fred’s head snapped down in your direction as he grinned to himself,

“I reckon that’s gotta count for something, love. But could we switch so I’m the little spoon? You know we’ll lose the match if I’m not and then it’ll be your fault, not Ginny’s.”

You let out a dramatic groan as you flipped around to throw your arm over Fred. His face was lit in joy as he snuggled into your hold. You smiled to yourself as you felt his lips brush against your hand and leave a small trail of kisses on each finger. Fred and his rituals, you laughed to yourself as the feeling of sleep entered your body and your eyes fell shut. The soothing sound of Fred humming was a perfect lullaby for any person to find sleep in but it had become your favorite sound. Soon, Fred would have to get ready and go face Slytherin but for now, your arms seemed to be the only place he wanted to be.

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years ago

Text

Written In The Stars CLXIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: There's blood and graphic descriptions of violence here, so be careful! -Danny

Words: 2,799

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Intro’ -by The XX

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Battle of The Astronomy Tower.

Mel ran up to her bedroom, when she came back her friends were still standing there.

"You heard Harry," She grabbed the map out of Hermione's hands. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Mel, c'mon, you can't possibly think—"

"I don't," She stated, walking up to her bag and pulling out the fake galleon she would always carry. "But Harry's intuition rarely goes wrong—Sure, he was wrong about Sirius last year, but he's right about Malfoy, and about plenty of other things. I'll rather be safe than sorry."

"Mel, be rational," Erick started, but she shook her head.

"Draco's a death eater," Her eyes skimmed through the map. "He's been planning something for months—Harry said that when he was in the bathrooms the day they fought he said 'Unless I do it soon, he'll kill me'— Don't you understand?"

Her friends didn't respond, Mel shoved the luck potion onto Erick's hands.

"Get Daphne. Lucas as well—Tell them we need eyes that Malfoy won't notice. Ron, bring your fake galleon—"

"But—"

"Bring it," Mel gave him one sharp look and Ron left. Then she turned to the Slytherin. "Ron will give you his galleon and you'll give it to Daphne in turn. Tell her that if the coin gets warm I'll need her to go back to her common room and make sure all the kids stay there."

"Who are we going to call apart from them?" Erick questioned.

Ginny and Neville walked into the common room just then, Mel dragged them to where the group was standing, she explained everything quickly.

"Will you help us?"

"Sure," Ginny said right away. "Where's Harry though? Are you sure he's fine?"

Mel chose not to answer, she looked down at the map and frowned.

"Malfoy's definitely on the seventh floor — He's not on the map. Keep an eye there, okay? If you see anything, you tell me..."

Ron was back, she seized her watch and grabbed Erick, pulling him closer.

"I rather look like a fool than to put my loved ones at risk," She said. "Please, help me. Just this one time."

For some reason, Barty Crouch Jr's words were echoing at the back of her mind:

"Told you to leave it to the adults, didn't I? But true to your nature, you kept digging... I guess I should be happy you're still young and gullible to listen to what you're told, otherwise I would've had to kill you."

Perhaps all those months doing nothing while people continued to die was making her lose it, or her breakup with Erick left her feeling like she just couldn't do anything right, especially knowing her uncle was dying, she needed to know if she was really worthy to take his place.

Erick drew out his own watch, he uncorked Mel's potion and drank a bit, then he tried to hand it back, she stopped him.

"Take it and share it with your friends. They're risking more than I am and it's better if they're uninjured once this is all over, no one will care about me—"

"That's not—"

"Go!" She pushed him away.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville drank what was left of Harry's potion, she told Ginny and Neville to get other members of the D.A. if they could, she told Ron and Hermione to stand outside Snape's office, Mel left the tower as well, not knowing where she was planning to go.

Erick sent her a message after fifteen minutes.

'NOT ALONE' — Below this, he put the initials 'D.E.'

Before she'd reached the seventh floor, she ran into Remus Lupin.

"Mel!" Her uncle exclaimed in surprise. "Isn't it a bit late for—"

"Listen," She told him urgently, showing him the Marauders' map. "I don't know how he did it but Malfoy managed to bring Death Eaters into the school—Look, they're making their way out of the seventh-floor so you can still stop them! I have to—"

"What? How could he—"

But she knew they were losing the little advantage they still had.

"JUST GO AND TELL SOMEONE!" Mel ran back towards her tower.

She was just getting to the fifth floor when a bunch of the D.A. students caught up with her, all of them curious to know what was happening.

"I need one of each house to stay in your common rooms and make sure no kids leave them," She ordered. "There are Death Eaters in the castle and they won't hesitate to hurt you. Lock the entrances once you're inside and don't let anyone in, understand?"

Her friends looked frightened, but they were reluctant to speak against her, soon enough two students (one Ravenclaw, one Hufflepuff) left the group, the rest followed her to the tower.

"What about Malfoy?" Ginny questioned. "Who's trying to get him?"

"I ran into my uncle a few minutes ago, they must be taking care of it now, Erick and Lucas must be there as well," Mel looked at Dean. "You'll keep an eye on the kids of our house— Ron and Hermione, they're still guarding Snape's office?"

"Yes, but Mel—"

"I need to warn Daphne..." She pulled out her galleon and changed the numbers so the girl knew it was time to go back and look after the Slytherins. "Erick hasn't reported anything since his last message," She anxiously looked down at her watch. "I hope they succeeded..."

She waved her wand and her Patronus flew out of sight, carrying the message so the rest of the school staff was informed of the situation. She looked back at the faces of her friends, most of them with pale, terrified expressions. She couldn't drag them into this.

"I won't judge you if you decide to back out," Mel said calmly. "But I need you to choose right now, you won't get another chance later."

None of them moved, she nodded once.

"We'll be okay."

Erick found her when they were nearing the Astronomy corridor, Lucas was with him. They had dust and dirt on them, but no injuries to show.

"Remus alerted the guards in time. Daphne's looking over our housemates," His expression grew darker as he handed her the luck potion. "Greyback's here."

She passed the bottle to the students behind her.

"Drink it. I won't allow any of you to be touched by that animal."

They were around six people total, the potion ran out quickly, but at least they were safe.

"Did you drink some before it was gone?" Erick asked tensely.

She stared at him.

"I don't need it, I have myself."

This time they had more people fighting on their side and they had drunk Felix Felicis, her being the only exception. Mel watched the tense and angered expressions of the death eaters as the group rushed in.

They couldn't touch her friends and this gave her enough liberty to attack without having to keep an eye on everyone. Weirdly enough, she felt this was similar to the time she'd lead the Quidditch Team, she would yell instructions, threw spells to get rid of the hostile group...

She spotted Malfoy and ran to get him. He glanced back with a wild expression on his face. The boy reminded her of a scared cat, eyes wide open and face so tense he looked like he was going crazy.

"Sectumsempra!" He yelled, but Mel created a shield between them.

"You spoiled prat!" She shouted. "What were you thinking bringing all these idiots here?"

"You never learned to keep your mouth shut, did you?" He shouted back, still fighting to get to the tower's staircase. "You're going to die tonight, you bloody lunatic!"

"I don't care about dying!" She threw a spell at him but it only brushed his side. "As soon as my uncle gets here your little club will get locked up again! And you'll go with them this time!"

Malfoy laughed, he got to the stairs and Mel followed.

"As soon as your uncle gets here, I'll kill him!"

She was going to ignore his comment because there was no way Malfoy was strong enough to kill Dumbledore and Voldemort knew that, but it was that exact thought what made her stop.

Voldemort wasn't expecting Malfoy to complete the mission, he was using him to torture Lucius. He was a scared seventeen-year-old who'd never done anything apart from throwing a few tantrums... Malfoy alone represented no big deal and Voldemort knew it. Myrtle had heard him cry in the bathroom, Mel had noticed his decay...

For the first time, she felt angry not because of Malfoy, but for him.

"What's the point of living like this?"

Her voice was so calm that Malfoy didn't reply right away, maybe wondering if she was actually talking to him.

"You could've talked to my uncle," She climbed the second step, Malfoy climbed up another two. "You could've told him. Voldemort—"

"DON'T SAY HIS NAME—"

"Dumbledore could've protected you!" She insisted. "You know he'll kill you anyway! Why did you do this?"

Malfoy's face twisted in frustration.

"My father would've died had I done otherwise." He was done talking to her. "Crucio!"

She was doubling in pain, this wasn't good for Harry, she couldn't distract him. Mel tried to keep all the pain on her side of the lifeline, she wasn't scared, she didn't need him. Malfoy ran away while she was still recovering, she stumbled down the stairs and panted, swearing aloud as she stood up again. Greyback found her, his smile widening at the sight.

"Dumbledore," He growled, sniffing her in a disgusting manner. "The first thing I'll eat of you will be those eyes..."

"Good luck trying," She grunted.

Greyback pounced and Mel flickered her wand, the man fell backwards roughly and she jumped over his body, she stepped over a second figure and looked down to see an unconscious and heavily injured Bill Weasley. Her stomach sank in horror and she turned back to make sure Greyback wouldn't try to finish the job.

However, the whole group of death eaters ran towards the stairs and she was roughly thrown back against a wall, they locked the entrance and none of her group could go through.

Time didn't make sense anymore, she didn't know how long had she been fighting, Mel stood up and touched the side of her head, feeling disoriented. Her body was covered in bruises and cuts, but she was still alive.

Snape showed up, the rest was so distracted trying to get in they didn't question how did he manage to walk through so casually. Lupin and Neville tried to enter, but they were thrown back with force, the group decided to throw spells at the barrier, but it wasn't working.

A few moments later all the death eaters ran back down, and the fight started again.

"It's over, time to go!" Snape yelled as he ran past, Malfoy was running ahead.

"No you won't," She growled.

The halls were all deserted, they reached the main entrance and continued to run, her eyes were on Snape and Draco, and they were leaving... There was a greenish light covering the school grounds, and she looked over her shoulder: The Dark Mark was there.

Dumbledore.

Harry was there too, running way ahead of her. Blue lightning got him and he fell forward, the Carrow siblings were approaching. Mel petrified Amycus, but Alecto kept going. Harry moved and yelled 'Impedimenta!' and Alecto fell.

Mel spotted Hagrid in the distance, trying to keep the death eaters from escaping. She ran towards him and stunned the man that was attacking him, but he was huge, he recovered quickly and as he tried to launch at her, she pointed at his face and waved her wand decidedly. The spell hit him square between his eyes and he doubled, Hagrid grabbed him by the neck and threw him away.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" Snape was yelling a few feet away. "You haven't got the nerve or the ability—"

Hagrid's cabin was on fire and Fang was inside. She kicked the door open and quickly entered, Fang was at the corner of the place, she ran in and dragged him out with all her might.

"Hide somewhere else!" She coughed, pushing him in the direction of the forbidden forest.

"Fight back!" Harry was screaming outside. "Fight back, you cowardly—"

"Coward, did you call me, Potter? Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?"

She threw a few curses in line, Snape barely got time to deflect them before Harry tried again, but he couldn't do nonverbal spells, so he was no hard opponent.

"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!" He shouted to the remaining Death eaters, "Now come! It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up—"

"NO!" Mel yelled in frustration.

She threw curse after curse and some hit the targets but others were quickly rejected. Harry had his full attention on Snape, and Hagrid was still fighting with the huge blond death eater.

"No!" Snape yelled to a Death Eater that had attacked Harry. "Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord—we are to leave him! Go! Go!"

"Sectum—!"

"No, Potter!" Snape threw Harry backwards and her friend was sent away flying. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so... no!"

Harry tried to reach for his wand, but Snape threw it further up the grass.

"Kill me then," Harry said fiercely. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward—"

"DON'T CALL ME COWARD!" Snape moved his hand and Harry's whole body was thrown to the side.

Mel's insides seethed in anger as she felt the pain on her own cheek. She'd never witnessed Vernon and Petunia Dursley hitting Harry, but she knew they had done it at some point. This, the sight of Snape slapping him, a man who had used him for years to relieve some of his anger towards a dead man, was enough to boil her blood.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

She threw Greyback away from her with a spell and left him unconscious on the ground. Buckbeak appeared out of nowhere and slashed Snape's front, Alecto tried to point to the creature but Mel stood in the way, throwing her away too and causing her to land on top of Greyback.

"Sectumsempra!" Malfoy shrieked from beside her.

The blood poured out quickly out of her neck, Mel's hand went up to stop it, but there were several cuts all over her body and she couldn't hold all of it at once. Hagrid caught her and started to mumble something, he was telling her that she'd be okay. Mel moved around trying to look for the death eaters. Harry's voice rose over the silence, he was getting close.

"HAGRID— MEL!"

Harry kneeled next to her, the flames reflecting on his glasses reminded her that Hagrid's home was still on fire.

"Hagrid, what can I—"

Mel tried to speak, but she only spluttered blood.

"If yeh don't stop moving I can't help yeh!" Hagrid yelled at her anxiously, he'd grabbed her wand and was now doing his best to stop the bleeding.

Mel grabbed Harry by the shirt, she pointed towards Hagrid's cabin.

"Right — right!" He stood up to put down the flames, she realized there was nothing else she could do, she was starting to get dizzy, she was losing lots of blood.

Hagrid took her in his arms and started running towards the castle, Harry quickly caught up with them.

"We've ter take her ter Pomfrey..."

Harry touched her arm.

"Let me help..." He begged. "I can't lose you, c'mon—this is why we kept the connection!"

Suddenly she felt a bit more awake, but that also meant she was starting to feel all the agony she'd been too numb to notice. She heard Harry breathe heavily next to them, he was giving half of his life at this point, all for her.

"What're they all lookin' at?" Hagrid asked as they approached the entrance. "Wha's tha', lyin' on the grass? See it, Harry? Righ' at the foot o' the tower? Under where the Mark... Blimey... yeh don' think someone got thrown — ?"

Mel saw the distinct shape of a body on the grass and she recognized it. A pained, muffled cry left her and she hid her face against Hagrid's chest, staining his clothes with blood. She heard Harry urging the man friend to take Mel inside, then everything went dark.

Next Chapter —>

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