#soppy git

[endreal]

yellow green; turquoise blue

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

Unmown grasses of all heights and varieties, flowers, flitting insects, the way the wind plays through the grass heads, and songbirds

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

Mostly local plants (native and naturalized, depending on the place and how engrained in the ecosystem they'd become), and definitely at least one flowering dogwood, but also chiles in the summer, every kind of edible local berry, runner beans and maybe snap peas, fresh rosemary and other herbs, and dare I even dream of paw-paws?

[joekeeryswife]

mason being really shy and getting flustered when you wear lingerie!!

lingerie - m.m

a/n: hello loves! i hope everyone is okay, this is a very short imagine but i think it’s pretty cute! flustered Mason but also sexy Mason #loveit. anyways enjoy reading 🩰

you were sat at your vanity doing your skincare after a long day at work just in your lingerie. there was nothing more comfortable than taking off your work clothes and sitting in your underwear before getting ready for bed.

your fiance Mason still wasn’t home yet, training had run late and you thought it would be nice if the two of you had a quiet night in. as you rubbed in your cream the bedroom door opened and a sweaty Mason came through the door.

“hey honey” he didn’t look up at you, he just walked straight into the room and started undressing. “hey baby, how was training?” you continued to do your skincare, sparing him a glance in your mirror.

“it was good, the boys wanted me to go out for a drink but i wanted to come home. i missed you” you stopped doing your skincare and turned to look at him, he was still getting undressed. “you could have gone mase, i wouldn’t have minded”

you wanted Mason to have freedom to do whatever he wanted. “no baby it was a long day and i just wanted to come back to you-” he stuttered when he looked up at you. “woah” mason said, his eyes fixated on you.

“what?” he shook his head but his eyes never left your body. “nothing” he looked away and blushed. “no, go on mase, you seem like you want to say something” you smirked, finding it hilarious that he was getting flustered.

he was in nothing but his boxers now “nothing you just- you look beautiful” he walked towards you and bent down to smother your neck in kisses making you laugh loudly.

“stop it, you’re being silly” your hand went to the back of this head as he continued kissing your neck. “not being silly at all actually. just in my feelings” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in closer.

“how can you be so beautiful. you’re just as beautiful as the moment i saw you. actually i’m lying, you look even more beautiful” you blushed ran your hand through his hair. “you’re such a soppy git” he giggled and pulled away slightly so he could look at you.

his eyes trailed down your body, you were beautiful. “you are the definition of perfect y/n, seriously” you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “i’m being serious, you look the best when you’re like this. or when you’re naked” he winked and your pushed him away and laughed.

Masons cheeks were red, he was flushed just looking at you. you were the definition of perfection, the definition of beauty and he couldn’t believe that he was engaged to you. the big diamond ring on your finger was was the best thing he ever gave you and he could wait to be your husband.

“you getting flustered just looking at me honey?” you loved teasing him and his cheeks turned a darker shade or red. “you know i am, stop teasing me it’s not funny” he wrapped his arms around your stomach and rested his head on your stomach too.

“aww poor baby” you ran your hand through his hair and before you know it Mason had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. you screamed, completely shocked at what had happened. he never done this before. “Mason fucking hell put me down”

Mason walked to your bed and laughed at you “should i drop you on the bed? or should i carefully put you on the bed?” he said playfully “Mason seriously put me down” you laughed, you could never be serious with him.

he put on on the bed carefully and climbed on top of you. “you look perfect” he said making you smile and blush, maintaining eye contact with him. eye contact with him always made your heart flutter. he smiled and kissed you passionately “i love you, you know that?” you nodded “i love you more”

[resowrites]

Holy Grail - drabble.

Summary: Henry develops a fixation for a certain part of his pregnant wife’s body…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, sexy talk, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 635

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Holy Grail - drabble.

"Whoa--"

"Henry, get out, I'm trying to get dry!" He quickly turned around as she grabbed the towel from the bed and clutched it to her chest.

"I'm sorry! I came in here to fetch Kal so I could give him his tea!" But the pooch was still fast asleep at the foot of their bed.

"Well you better get out of here before he wakes up, you know how protective of me he is at the moment."

"I know, the soppy git…"

"He's soppy?! You almost had a panic attack yesterday when you thought I ate shrimp! And he picked up following me into every room from you!"

"Yeah well at least I don't guard you when you're in the shower--"

"Well thank God for Kal, otherwise you'd be leering at me through the glass!"

"At least then I'd get a look at them! Come on, drop that towel, and lemme see if I can't tune in for the news and weather--"

"Out, now! I wanna get dry in peace."

"Then here, let me help…" Henry took a few steps forward only for her to dart under the bed so she could fetch something. "What the hell is the broom doing under there?!"

"I had to bring it up last night to squish a spider on the ceiling and now I'm going to use it to get rid of another pest."

"My lady may call me whatever she wishes. For she is beautiful, rich, and got huge… tracts of land!"

"That's it! I'm not enduring Monty Python quotes. You're banned from my presence the rest of the evening. Be gone!" She tried to jab with the broom only for him to dart out of the way.

"Aww come on, when was the last time we got to knock boots?"

"Last bloody night!"

"Then you should be warmed up by now!"

"God give me strength… anyway I thought you just wanted to cop a feel?"

"Well I'll take whatever I can get--"

"Yeah well by the time I'm finished with this broom, you'll be able to sweep the floor!"

"Charming, all I wanted was to enjoy the beauty of my pregnant wife! Honestly, it looks like you're holding up two ten-gallon hats--"

"God you belong on a bloody list… can't you go one night without being a pervert?"

"No, but I'll tell you what, you flash me lefty and I'll give you a hundred quid."

"A hundred quid?"

"Yeah, would you prefer cash or bank transfer?"

"Is that all you think I'm worth?!"

"Well, it's not like you're giving me a handful!"

"And how much would you pay for that? I was thinking of redoing the kitchen…"

"What? Why? I did a good job of the tiling!"

"Henry, two fell off just this morning!"

"Then let little Henry have a dance in your ballroom and I'll fix it for free!"

"Will you also disappear back downstairs?"

"God, you always want to get rid of me!"

"Yeah, cos you get on my sodding tits!"

"I bloody wish!" She looked up at the ceiling and prayed for guidance.

"Henry, give me one good reason why I should have sex with you tonight."

"I can do better than that, I can regale you with song."

"What?!" Henry cleared his throat.

"Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate!" She perched on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

"I can't actually believe I'm having your child…"

"I can, especially after last night. Now get thee to bed, and let's go for round two--"

"Really? You're reciting Shakespeare now?"

"Well I thought that might do the trick--"

"Fat chance."

"Why not? I can leave the money on the bedside table--" she chucked a pillow at him.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @geralts-yenn @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

[boxboxlewis]

prompt: galex + wings 🪽

It was kind of nice when Lily and Carmen weren’t around for a race weekend, not that George would ever say that. Simpler times, it reminded him of: when he and Alex were still single and fancy-free and having sex whenever they could find a door that shut. Sometimes they still hooked up, when their girlfriends weren’t around. For old times’ sakes.

They were in George’s hotel room. George was stretched out alluringly on his bed, one arm behind his head so his shirt rucked up and showed some stomach. Just trying to maximise his chances that the evening might be one of the sometimes.

“You’ve got your weird soppy-git face on,” Alex said, “what, are you thinking about your mum again?”

“No,” George said, and took his arm down. “I just—fancy blowing off some steam?”

George thought that probably he could be a good 60% less weird about Alex if Alex simply stopped smiling like that: a little dirty, a little fond, a lot as if he saw straight through George but still somehow liked him anyway. 

“You need better lines, mate,” Alex said. “I’m not rewarding that.” He came and sat on the bed, though. Reached out and rubbed a thumb over George’s hipbone, considering. 

“Did it hurt,” George said seriously, and then as Alex shoved his shoulder, “when you fell out of heaven—oi—!”

One moment Alex was braced over him, laughing, and the next he’d flung himself back, back off the bed and onto the hotel carpet, away from George.

“Er?” George said. Alex was breathing heavily (good, usually) and he’d gone all pale (very bad). George couldn’t think what might have happened to cause it. He tried a joke. “I did actually brush my teeth before you came over, so…”

“No, it’s not—” Alex was biting at his lip. “I shouldn’t, today. My shoulders.”

“Your shoulders don’t want us to have sex.”

“Don’t be a dick, George. Practice today was rough, that’s all.”

That’s never stopped us from hooking up before, George didn’t say. He stood up slowly, so as not to startle Alex, and moved towards him like a hunter towards a deer. Probably. “Let me see, then.” He put his hand on Alex’s waist. “Come on, let Dr George have a look.”

Alex’s face did something strange and vulnerable. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, “I’m an idiot, I—hey, careful, please!”

George was easing Alex’s shirt up over his head. “Turn around for me. Good lad.” Alex snorted at that, which was more normal, at least. “Oh, blimey.” Alex’s back was a welter of raw oozing skin, bloody and scraped to hell, like someone had been at his shoulderblades with a meat mallet. “Alex, you’ve—you need to see a doctor, I think, mate. This is proper bad. You’re going to get an infection if you’re not careful.”

“I’m not seeing a doctor.” 

George recognised Alex’s implacable bastard voice when he heard it. “All right, fine, but—I’ve got some Germolene in my bag. At least let me put that on?” 

“Fine, but don’t— Fine.”

George got the ointment and arranged Alex face down on the bed. Usually a great position for Alex: but usually he wasn’t fucking bleeding everywhere. “Right,” George said. “Right, I think it will be easiest if I sit on your arse.”

“Convenient,” Alex muttered. He had his hands folded under his cheek, face turned to one side. “Not at all because you’re obsessed with my arse.”

George ignored him and clambered awkwardly into place, sitting on Alex’s arse, knees snugly bracketing his back. It wasn’t all that comfortable, actually, Alex being a bony motherfucker. “Okay, this might sting a bit. Also, sorry if it’s cold.” He squeezed out some Germolene onto a finger and tentatively swiped it along Alex’s left shoulderblade. Alex hissed in a breath. “That all right, mate?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Or it would be fine if you could just stop being so fucking—solicitous. Dickhead.”

George rolled his eyes and squeezed some more ointment onto his finger. “Sorry for caring.” He worked the thick cream into Alex’s broken skin, as gently as he could. Up and down, along the bony ridges on either side of Alex’s upper back. Alex’s skin was greasy and warm under his fingers, and the room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. The antiseptic smell of the Germolene seemed loud, somehow. 

“Uh,” Alex said. “I—this was a mistake, actually, I think, I need—George, stop!”

George pulled his hands back. Alex was breathing rapidly, like maybe he was turned on, which would be perhaps slightly weird under the circumstances but not weird enough to justify a freakout. They’d had weirder sex before, definitely. “It’s okay if you like it,” he said.

“No, I—” Alex pressed a hand over his face, long fingers splayed over his cheek. “Fuck. Fuck! George, you need to leave.”

“Er, right, point of order: this is actually my hotel room?”

“I really mean it, George, you need to—fuck!”

Before George could reply his attention was distracted by Alex’s back, which was rippling. The movement was happening underneath his skin, as if the bones were shifting, as if some creature inside were flexing and stretching. George was still sitting on Alex’s arse, and probably some spirit of self-preservation should have sent him sprinting for the door, but instead he leaned forward and pressed his hand to the skin of Alex’s back where it overlay whatever was happening inside his body. The squirming was viscerally unsettling to feel, but not unpleasant.

“George—”

“It’s all right,” George said, with false confidence, “I’ll just grab my phone and call 999—I think it works anywhere, right, they just reroute the call—no problem, mate, we’ll get an ambulance here for you—”

And then he stopped talking, because something was erupting from Alex’s back. Two things, actually, bony and huge and covered with pale brown feathers. They unfolded, stretching up almost to the ceiling, and beat once; and then tucked themselves back down along Alex’s sides, warm and thick against George’s legs.

“Fuck,” Alex said.

George said, “You’ve got wings.”

“Yeah, no shit, George.”

“You’ve got—” George managed to stop himself from repeating You’ve got wings, but only barely. “You. Erm. How long? Have you—”

“Years,” Alex said. His wings twitched, almost smugly. “Used to be easier to keep them hidden, though. Past couple of months it’s been a real—ah.”

George was carding his fingers through the feathers of Alex’s right wing, exploring the textures, how they parted for his fingers. “There’s different kinds of feather,” he said. “These really long ones up here, and then the short fluffy ones—”

Alex made a sort of broken sob noise, and immediately stuffed his fist into his mouth. George jerked his hand back.

“Sorry, shit, sorry, is it—can I touch them,” he asked belatedly. “Does it—it must feel weird, I guess.”

“It feels good. No one has, before.”

The neanderthal part of George’s mind hefted its club and began grunting triumphantly. “You haven’t shown anyone else?”

“No, I mean, it’s like. Kind of a weird thing to bring up, right?”

“Mildly weird,” George agreed, and started stroking Alex’s wing again: the first person ever to do so. 

thank you to @janinaduszejko for reading this over and to @onadarklingplain for the prompt!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Yearn

@wolfstarmicrofic February 28, word count 260

Previous part First part

Remus was back on the rota for prefect duties, and Sirius had to stay behind in the Common room and wait for him to return. He’d tried to convince Remus to let him tag along, but Remus had told him no. 

“I’ll have to give you detention for being out after curfew.” 

“I could use the cloak?” Sirius had suggested. But Remus had just kissed him and told him he’d only be a couple of hours, and then he left through the portrait hole. 

Sirius thought he’d been hiding his sulking quite well, but Lily came over and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” She singsonged at him. He rested his head against her.

“What time is it?” He asked. Lily craned her neck around to look at the big grandfather clock behind them. 

“Half eight,” She told him. He groaned. 

“Why is time going so slowly?” Lily patted his head. 

“Aww, do you yearn for your Lover boy?” She teased. 

“Yes,” He looked at her sadly. Lily hadn’t expected him to be that honest, so she wrapped her arms around him properly and hugged him. 

“He’ll be back before you know it, you big soppy git.”

Soon, Remus returned, and Sirius was clambering into his lap, squeezing him hard. 

“Sirius, you do know there’s a whole week of this?”

“Nope, tomorrow I’m coming with you. You can put me in as many detentions as you like.” Remus chuckled at him but placed a kiss on his temple. 

“Alright, sweetheart, whatever you want.” 

Last part

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Ooooh that chat is such a teaser. Are we about to see drunk james get a little saucy?

More in the other direction. Drunk James is a soppy git.

[albaskies]

Just like us

James Sirius made his grand entrance into the world looking all puffy and red, a single strand of hair on his otherwise bald head, his dark eyes glossy and vivid, writhing and screaming for dear life in his father’s arms. For one, horrifying and unbelievably long second, Harry feared that his first born son - that had been so loved, so desired, so awaited since the moment they had found out about his impending arrival - had come out looking just like his Uncle Vernon. His terror subsided as he kept holding him, laughing at his own thickness, because he didn’t have any Dursley blood, and neither did his son, thank goodness.

A big baby, that he was. Already taller than Ginny’s whole head and torso by the age of six months old. Harry was always mesmerised by how he seemed to be closer and closer to physically outgrowing her, and yet she kept on holding him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘My big boy,’ she’d say, squeezing him through his cackles. ‘My sweet, sweet, big boy.’

Harry had stopped interrogating himself about his son’s appearance after that terrifying Vernon incident, but he couldn’t help but notice that his eyes had become hazel coloured, his hair dark if almost jet-black like his own - just a bit like his father, another James Potter that had lived once upon a different time. And yet, the shape of little James’s nose, his lips and his cheeks were somehow fuller, more pronounced, and didn’t immediately scream Potter - nor Weasley, for that matter.

‘He looks like a Prewett,’ Mrs Weasley said once, her eyes glimmering with hope and wonder. ‘He reminds me of my brother Gideon.’

It was too soon to tell anyway, because every day James would grow some more and would seem to look like yet someone different. Neither Harry or Ginny ever cared to join the guessing game, but would laugh about it for days, like that one time that Teddy had said that James reminded him of a niffler, or Ron had suggested that he looked just like him (‘Oi! My son’s not a git!’).

But then one evening Harry had found Ginny weeping on their bed, James peacefully asleep next to her in between two pillows. 

‘He looks like Fred, doesn’t he?’, she’d sobbed as he had taken her in his arms, lost for words.

He didn’t think that James looked like Fred Weasley, not quite - or anyone else specifically, for that matter. No, because James Sirius Potter looked like Ginny’s radiant smile when she’d walked down the aisle, her arm tucked in her father’s elbow; he looked like Harry's watery, glimmering eyes fixed on her and her only, and the warm feel of Ron's hand squeezing his shoulder. He looked like Ginny's furious blush that had reminded him of the setting sun so many years before, like the smitten grin on his face as he’d watch her sleep and she’d let out a snore, just a tiny one. He looked like those several sunlit afternoons spent by the lake on days he'd felt to have stolen from someone else's life, like their teary eyes and soppy smiles when they'd reunited after several months apart, like her blazing look, like the disbelief and utmost joy when they’d found out to have somehow managed to create another life. He looked like the stolen glances at the Burrow, the secret kisses, all the I love you’s; he looked like receiving the first Hogwarts letter, like the sun setting gloriously on the orchard, like defeating Voldemort at last. He looked like them and them only, like all those not-so-little things only they would understand; he looked like them and their family all at once, like them and their infinite love.

[oneofthosebells]

Hi! for the ask game: 4, 9, 11 (and 12 <3) I hope you have a lovely weekend!

Hey, thank you for the ask! 🥰 And you too. 💜

4. 🧭 An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

I am terrible at being creative with titles, alas - the absolute giddy glee I felt when I came up with Incognito Mode was something to behold, practically every other fic I've ever written has been named after a Gershwin or Cole Porter song (also where this username comes from btw.)

I guess one of my WIPs could also be titled as 'The Worst Day of Queen Kristina's Life'...

9. 🤔 What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

A closeted, older (I'm thinking 30s or even 40s) Wilhelm, now a surplus Royal with no purpose in life now that his brother has children, decides to learn the guitar. Simon ends up being his teacher for reasons I've yet to work out. They fall in love (duh).

I'm thinking that Wilhelm has several failed relationships behind him with men who couldn't cope with either being a secret or handling the intense public/press attention if it became public, so he's a bit cynical and jaded about relationships. Haven't quite decided on Simon's backstory yet! It's fermenting in the background at the moment.

11. 🛠️Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Ha, yes. The fluffy parts. Also smut.

Angst? Piece of cake, writes itself. Fluff and warm fuzzy feelings? It's like pulling teeth. I keep having to remind myself with every sentence that these people actually LIKE each other, a lot, and are both canonically warm, emotionally available people who tend to be honest and open about their feelings for each other.

I've spent the last four years writing about an emotionally constipated little sod who doesn't do all that 'soppy git' stuff, so it's an adjustment. I'll get there. 😂

12. ❤️ Thank you so much for extra kudos!

[spindrifters]

ty for the tag sweet san xx @sandrawstuff

rules: share the last line you wrote in your wip (I have 2 atm)

“Soppy git.” “Caught me.” And then — “I’m not falling asleep in the bathtub.” “Move, then.” “No.”

and

He leans over her to ash the cigarette out his bedroom window. “Yeah. I know.”

no presh tags @lynxindisguise @impishtubist @femme--de--lettres @greenvlvetcouch @fruity-individual @crushofdoves

[silentt-angel]

to love and to kill – chapter 1

summary: Draco Malfoy has been tasked with fixing a magical wardrobe and killing Albus Dumbledore. But he isn't the only Slytherin who received a task from The Dark Lord that summer - Magnolia Stellifer has to make sure that Draco doesn’t fail, and if he does, she has to finish what he started... An enemies to lovers retelling of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. pairing: draco malfoy x oc

1. A Beginning 

Sunday 1st September 1996

To say that Draco Malfoy was annoyed, would have been an understatement. He had only been at Station 9¾ for a total of seven minutes, and he was already cold, his new shoes were making his feet hurt and he was beginning to regret skipping breakfast that morning – just like his mother had told him he would. As if that wasn’t enough, some snotty first year student was wailing about something loudly right next to him. Had Draco’s mother not been standing beside him, he would have definitely hexed the boy into oblivion by now. Since she was, though, he settled for imagining all the things he could do to the boy with a single spell. His list was getting quite impressive.

There was something that was gnawing at the back of his mind that was annoying him far more than all of this, though – Draco missed his father. 

And he didn’t like it. 

Lucius Malfoy had never been the warmest of people, and certainly not the warmest of fathers. He could be stern and demanding and strict, but he was Draco’s father, and since Draco started Hogwarts six years prior, Lucius had been there every single year to see him off. It felt strange not to have him there. It made Draco feel like things really were changing. 

It also made him feel like a soppy git. 

Draco didn’t think he would care, and going back to Hogwarts was usually accompanied by a buzz of excitement he was certain would drown out any other emotions. This year the feeling was nowhere to be found. Instead, all Draco felt was a strange emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to.

Needless to say, so far, his day was going pretty shit. 

“Are you sure you have everything you need packed, dear?” Draco’s mother asked him, straightening the collar of his cloak. 

Any sign of summer had disappeared completely with the start of September. Everything was already cold and grey. The wind tugged at his mother’s hair angrily, blowing the black and white strands. 

It felt fitting. Having the sun shine over him brightly all summer felt sacrilegious. 

“Yes, mother. You’ve asked me that thrice since we got here.”

“I just want to make sure,” Narcissa said softly, drawing her hands away from him. 

Draco mustered up a weak smile. 

“I need you to be careful.”

“I will,” Draco assured her.

“I mean it,” his mother said. “I won’t lie to you, dear – I’m worried about you. What you are doing is extremely dangerous, so I need you to promise me that you will be careful .”

Draco swallowed thickly. “I promise,” he said. 

He hated having conversations like this with his mother, and they were having an awful lot of them as of late.

“And remember: the only person you can talk to about this in that castle is Severus. He is the only one who you can trust. Understood?”

Draco pursed his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his mother use such a harsh tone with him. He didn’t fault her. Her husband was in Azkaban, and now her only son was risking the same fate. 

He wished his mother didn’t know about the task. Wished that he could at least take this burden from her. 

“Understood.” 

Narcissa’s eyes softened again. “I'm going to miss you very much, Draco.”

“I hate to leave you.”

“Don’t worry about me.” She smiled. “I shall manage just fine. I always do. Now,” she smoothed out her dark skirt, “I believe I have just spotted the Stellifers. Let us go and say hello and then you should be on your way.”

Draco felt the stares that followed him as they walked. He was used to people looking at him. He was a Malfoy, after all; everyone knew who he was since he was a tiny baby. This felt very different, though.

Death Eater. 

Scum. 

He’ll be joining Lucius soon.

Bastard should have got much worse.

Hope he rots in Azkaban like his daddy.

Insults were hurled at him in hushed tones.

“Do not listen to them.” His mother pulled him closer, shooting daggers with her eyes at anyone who looked their way. “They will find something new to gossip about soon.”

Draco replied with a low hum. “Unlikely,”  he said. “But I’m not concerning myself with what some mudbloods have to say about us, and you shouldn’t either, mother.”

“It does not bother me when it is me they are talking about,” Narcissa frowned. A faint line appeared between her brows. “But I hate it when they speak about my boy that way. You are right, though. We must not bother ourselves with that type of nonsense. People will always talk.”

To Draco, it sounded like his mother was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince him.

“It’s fine. I don’t care, really,” he said.

It didn’t feel good, but Draco was slowly getting used to it. He had to. Since his father had been sent to Azkaban, Draco couldn’t cross the street without hearing the words ‘Death Eater’ being spat at him. There was no point denying it or saying anything, really. It’s not like they were entirely wrong, either. 

“Now,” his mother smiled at him, “please try to look a bit less miserable for the next few minutes.”

Draco scoffed but mustered up a neutral expression. 

“Leonidas! Idris! Lovely to see you as always,” his mother greeted the Stellifers politely. “You too, Magnolia.”

Draco shook Mr.Stellifer’s hand and sent Magnolia and her mother a polite nod as they exchanged pleasantries. 

“Doesn’t time just fly? When did your Magnolia grow into such a wonderful young woman?” his mother gushed.

“Isn’t she just precious?” Idris Stellifer cooed, pleased at the compliment, a hint of French in her accent. 

It took a lot of effort for Draco to stifle a laugh.

He had only seen Magnolia once the entire summer, at the annual ball her mother organised. It was probably the longest they had gone without eachothers company their entire lives. Draco considered it one of the major advantages of the Dark Lord’s return. 

She looked the same as her had remembered her, in her brown overcoat. Maybe a bit older. A bit more tanned with a few light freckles decorating her slender nose that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps her hair had grown a bit over the summer too – it fell over her shoulders in long, dark curls. 

Draco felt his mother nudge him gently and realised he hadn’t been listening to the conversation at all. 

“Your Draco has had to mature incredibly these last few months, hasn’t he? Step up and be the man of the family,” he heard Magnolia’s father say. 

“He certainly has.” Narcissa nodded.

Draco hated these types of conversations. Hated how people would always speak about him as if he wasn’t standing right there. 

“These are strange times we are living in,” Leonidas went on. “We need to look out for each other.”

Draco thought that ‘strange times’ was a generous way of putting it. 

“We just wanted to remind you that if you ever need any help, we are always here,” the man added. 

“That’s very kind of you, Leonidas.” 

“It must be so difficult without Lucius.” Idris Stellifer gave them both a sympathetic smile. “I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like,” she said, and turned her gaze to her husband. 

Leonidas smiled at her gently and grasped her hand in his.

Draco couldn’t understand why people said things like that so often. Did they really believe it would make anyone feel better? It made him want to scream. 

His mother gave them a small smile that Draco had come to know very well in the last few months and said, “It is certainly quieter at home.” 

It was quite the opposite, actually.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt,” Magnolia spoke suddenly, “but I think me and Draco ought to go. The train will be leaving soon.”

“Right, of course.” Her mother smiled. "We wouldn’t want you missing it,” she said. “But before you go, let me give you one last big hug.” She pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. 

Draco turned to his own mother. 

“Do not forget to write to me,” she said with a tired kind of smile on her face.

“I won’t,” Draco promised.

“I know.” She kissed his cheek. “Off you go.”

He made sure to look at her for as long as he could before he had to turn away and start walking towards the train – to try and remember every detail of her face. Draco didn’t let the thought form into a sentence in his head, but a tiny part of him was afraid of that being the last time he would see his mother.

He pushed the thought away quickly. He wasn’t going to let it be. 

“Goodbye, mother.” Draco swallowed thickly before turning back to the others. “It was good seeing you, Mr and Mrs Stellifer.”

“Draco, dear,” Magnolia’s mother stopped him. “Would you mind helping Magnolia with her bag?”

“There’s really no need, mother,” Magnolia protested. “I wouldn’t want to trouble Draco.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, with a smile that he knew made all mothers like him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

They walked side by side towards the Hogwarts Express, Draco stealing quick glances at Magnolia’s face. There was a tiredness in her eyes and a frown on her lips that he hadn’t noticed before. He wondered what could have caused it. It was difficult to remember what kinds of problems people who weren’t doing the Dark Lord’s bidding had. 

“You look ravishing today,” he drawled sarcastically, finally breaking the silence.

“Tiring summer,” was all Magnolia said in response. 

“Oh, right. It must be awfully taxing having to attend so many balls and picnics,” Draco said, with pretend sympathy.

“You’d know all about that.”

“Would I?” He smirked. “I don’t recall attending many tea parties this summer.”

She furrowed her dark brows. “What’s your problem, Malfoy?”

He laughed. Given by how quickly he had managed to get her riled up, it seemed he wasn’t the only one in a bad mood. 

It felt good to pick a fight – finally have someone to snap at. 

“Were the balls any fun at least?” he asked.

“Certainly the ones you weren’t at,” Magnolia snapped back. 

Draco would have been at all of them if Voldemort hadn’t been spending his time in Draco’s living room most nights. 

“I’m sure my company was dearly missed.”

She laughed back at him. “I beg to differ.”

“I’m doubtful.” 

“I wouldn’t expect any different, you arrogant twat.”

“Good, you know me well then, and you shouldn’t miss me too much now, either.” Draco grinned at her one last time before letting go of her suitcase, giving it a hard push towards the train tracks and strolling off, “You’ll manage just fine with that, I presume?” he called over his shoulder.

Magnolia stood where he had left her, giving him the middle finger, the two green ribbons in her hair blowing wildly in the wind. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It didn’t take long for Draco to find the compartment his friends were sitting in. 

“About time,” Blaise Zabini said, shaking his hand. “We thought you weren't going to make it.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t.” 

“But you’re here.” Blaise grinned. “And that means you owe me a galleon, Goyle. Don’t think I forgot,” he shouted across the compartment. 

Goyle groaned and started rummaging in his pockets. He slid a few coins over the table to Zabini. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, mate.” 

“I’ll be having a percentage of that,” Draco said. 

Blaise frowned. “We’ll see about that.”

“We were actually just talking about you before you came,” Pansy Parkinson said, changing the subject.

“You were?” Draco raised a brow.

“Just wondering,” Pansy said with a sickly sweet smile, “what Master Malfoy was so busy doing that he couldn’t be asked to reply to a single letter all summer?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Some of us didn’t spend our entire summer sunbathing in Italy,” he said. “I’ve had to take on some of my father’s responsibilities. It’s kept me pretty busy.”

He noticed the way Blaise and Pansy looked at each other awkwardly, but chose to ignore it. 

“How was Italy?” he asked, in part because he wanted to stop her from having a go at him, but also because he was dying for a normal conversation that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord, and his father, and the war.

Luckily, Pansy didn’t need much encouragement. She started babbling happily about the beaches, all the food she ate, the people and all the wine she managed to swipe from her parents. Draco was grateful not to have to speak for a while. It was nice to listen to something so down to earth.

It didn’t last very long, though. 

“You know,” Pansy said, “apparently some people aren’t coming back this year.”

“Muggle-borns,” Blaise chimed in. 

Draco leaned back in his seat. “People are starting not to trust Dumbledore with their precious children as much.”

“Took them long enough,” Blasie sighed. “He let a bloody werewolf teach us.”

“Lupin wasn’t all that bad,” Pansy countered.

“Did you fancy him or something, Parkinson?" Draco joked.

“You think I’m into hairy guys?”

“I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours.”

Pansy rolled her eyes at him.  “At least he actually taught us something. Better than Umbridge.”

"S’ppose” Blaise shrugged.

The compartment doors swung open and the freckle-covered face of some Ravenclaw student peered inside.

“Hi, sorry, is there a Blaise Zabini in here?” the girl asked.

“Depends who’s asking,” Blaise drawled.

“I’ve been asked to deliver a message from Professor Slughorn.”

The girl passed Blaise a wax sealed envelope. Pansy peered over his shoulder as he opened it. 

“That’s the new Potions professor," she said. “He taught my father.”

Blaise scanned the letter quickly and scoffed.

“What is it?” Draco asked. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it, the mysterious letter had sparked some curiosity in him.

“Looks like I’ve got lunch plans today.”

“Who would have thought you’d be such a teacher’s pet, Blaise,” Pansy giggled. “Getting invited to lunch by a professor on the first day back? Must have been a busy summer.”

“What does Slughorn want with you?” Draco asked. “You’re awful at potions.”

“Beats me.” Blaise shrugged. 

“Maybe Slughorn’s doing special classes, for those most in need, this year,” Pansy suggested, smiling innocently. 

“Rude.” 

“Only logical explanation.” Draco smirked.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on either of you,” Blaise said, standing up. “Let’s hope the food is good. See you later.”

He left the compartment whistling, his hands in his pockets, leaving just Draco and Pansy in their booth. 

The girl pressed her forehead against the window. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her jumper, each of them decorated with chipped black polish and silver rings. They both sat in silence for a while, looking at the rolling hills they were passing, before she said, “Isn’t it strange that we’re only going to get to do this one more time?”

He raised a brow. “Pansy Parkinson getting sentimental?”

She laughed. “Maybe a bit. Hogwarts is a shithole, but I’m going to miss it. I’ve spent most of the last few years of my life there.”

He decided not to tell her that he may not be there with her on the train next year. That by then he might be onto bigger things.

This was going to be a good year for him. Draco was going to make sure of that. It was going to be difficult, but it would all be worth getting his father out of prison, restoring his family’s good name and keeping his mother safe. There was a lot he was willing to do to accomplish that.

Apparently even murdering his headmaster.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blaise returned after an hour. He already had a scowl on his face as he swung the compartment door open, and it only deepened when he couldn’t get it to shut again.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” he asked angrily, as he tousled with the door. 

Just as Draco got up to help him, the door slid open completely, and Zabini toppled over sideways, landing straight in Gregory Goyle’s lap. Pansy and Draco both erupted into laughter.

“Oi!” Goyle snarled. “Get off me.”

“You’re acting like I wanted to land on your fat arse!”

“We all know you like it, Goyle,” Pansy jeered.

“Get your hands off me,” Zabini spat.

“You’re the one sitting on me!”

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.”

Blaise leapt up before Goyle could shove him off and slumped down next to Pansy. Draco sprawled out across the free seat next to him. He listened as the two slytherins continued to squabble with a smile, when something white flashed before his eyes. Draco frowned slightly.

“How was it?” Pansy asked, still laughing slightly.

“One of the biggest wastes of time,” Blaise groaned.

“What did Slughorn want?” 

Draco was glad that Pansy asked before he had to. Blaise was always far too pleased when he forced someone to try and pry information out of him.

“Just trying to find some well-connected people,” he said, straightening his jacket. “Not that he managed to find any.”

“Who else did he invite?” Draco asked.

“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” Blaise replied.

“Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry.” Pansy filled in.

“–somone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw.”

Pansy scowled. “He’s a dickhead.”

“Magnolia Stellifer was there too,” Blaise added, and Draco noticed the way he looked at him, searching for a reaction.

It didn’t surprise Draco one bit that she was invited. She was brilliant at potions – he had to give her that.

“– and Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl,” Zabini finished.

“He invited Longbottom?” Draco laughed in disbelief. 

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” Zabini said indifferently.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Pansy asked.

Blaise shrugged.

“Guess the whole Potter fan club scored an invite,” Draco sneered. “Even the Weasley girl.”

“A lot of boys like her for some reason,” Pansy said. “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please.” She wriggled her thick eyebrows suggestively. 

Blaise made a gagging noise. “I’d rather snog Goyle.”

“I don’t have a hard time believing that after what we just saw,” Draco teased.

“Not that I want to spend my free time with that old man,” Pansy said, “but I’m a bit surprised that Malfoy and I weren’t invited.”

“I wouldn't bank on an invitation,” Blaise said. “He asked me about Notts father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry, he didn’t look happy. And Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters. At least not convicted ones.”

Draco let out a single humourless laugh. “His loss.”

“We’re nearly there,” Pansy said. “We should get our robes on. Blaise needs all the time he can get in front of the mirror.”

The boy clutched his chest. “How thoughtful, Pansy.”

As they all stood up and Goyle reached up for his trunk, Draco heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a faint grunt. He looked over at Pansy and Blaise, but they were still going back and forth about something, oblivious to the strange noise. Draco continued pulling on his robe like he hadn’t heard anything and reached for his trunk. The train halted.

“You guys go on,” he told his friends. “I just want to check something.”

Draco waited until he couldn’t hear anyone in the corridor and lowered the blinds. He bent down and reached into his trunk, then spun around and pointed his wand at the luggage rack.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Just as he had suspected, Potter came toppling down from the rack, his head and torso sliding out from underneath an invisibility cloak. He landed right at Draco’s feet. 

Draco smirked down at him. “Hello Potter. I thought it was you,” he said jubilantly. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you and thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back… It was quite rude of you not to say hello.”

His eyes lingered for a moment on Potter’s face as he considered how much he could get away with. 

“You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter, but while I’ve got you here…” Draco stamped down hard on Harry’s face. He heard a crunch under his shoes as Potter’s blood spluttered everywhere. “That’s from my father.” He kicked again. “And that’s from me.”

Potter’s glasses had snapped into three pieces and the glass had shattered, some of it slicing into his – definitely broken – nose. 

It felt good to see him so defenceless. The legendary boy who lived at his feet. It was his fault that Draco was in the position he was in.

“Oh, dear” Draco cooed cruelly. “You’ve made quite the mess.” He wiped his shoe on Harry’s shirt, then dragged the cloak from under Harry’s immobilised body and threw it over him. “I don’t reckon they’ll find you until the train’s back in London,” he said quietly. “See you around, Potter… or not.”

He took care to tread on his fingers as he left the compartment. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Does Potter’s nose have anything to do with what you left on the train?” Pansy asked Draco during the feast. 

“Perhaps.” He smirked, pleased with himself. What he did was going to be the highlight of his week. 

The Slytherin table erupted into laughter. They were silenced only by Dumbledore stepping onto the podium. 

“The very best of evenings to you!” Dumbledore said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide enough to embrace the whole room.

Draco groaned and buried his head in his arms. 

“Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you...” 

He mostly drowned out the sound of Dumbledore’s annual speech.

“...those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn. He is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master. Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore said, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.” 

Draco lifted his head off the table at the name ‘Lord Voldemort’.

“I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.” 

The old man had no clue what he had coming. 

[georgiespapers]

Reloading because I finally done James and Harry's pic.

Heather and Oscar's cosplaying their dads along with their dads reactions mainly James because he's a soppy git.

[myfriendofmiseryyy]

First date with Jamie would include

•Jamie being very nervous and fidgety but also being a sweetheart and bringing you flowers.

•talking over coffee then him taking you around Windsor (idk what there is to do in slough)

•seeing Windsor castle and both of you rambling on about history

•your hands brushing against each other and seeing him blush every time they do

• grabbing a ice cream (99) and eating it together,his smile being adorable.

•laughing when you get the ice cream on your face

•walking a bit further and seeing the river,then walking along the docks.

•him talking about his mum (Paula)

•him also talking about Dave and how Dave teased him about being nervous.

•him genuinely talking about how much he loves his family. (This is world without Layla)

•him then walking you to the train station and hugging you goodbye even though you both wanted to kiss eachother.

•him texting you as soon as you were on the train saying how good the day was and how beautiful you were.

•him then setting up a second date here and there because he is a soppy git.

•him going home to Dave and his mum and telling them all about it,and how much he likes you.

[fireessie]

OHH THE PROPOSALS🥹🥹 literally the sweetest thing

AND THE RINGS 😍 gorgeous

I know! Soppy little gits aren't they 😅

I wasn't originally going to have them both propose but then someone on here said about it and I knew I had to.

The rings - I'm not going to lie, I looked at sooooooooooooo many rings. Honestly my google history is ruined because of this fic (and the follow up fic) but it was quite fun, although I couldn't decide on the style they'd have for ages and ages 😅

[f0rever-baby]

I follow you because:

You’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met in my life, you’re intelligent, strong, independent, hilarious, best Mum to Howie, Vinnie, Leviathan, Ada, TabTab and BooBoo. Your ethereal beauty is just stunning and your sea sapphires for eyes are the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Your selflessness is an inspiration and I think if there were more people like you in the world it would be a better place. It’s a genuine delight and pleasure to get to talk to you daily and I adore and value the time you give me. Sharing books and music with each other is a personal favourite and I’ve discovered so much new knowledge and genres to explore. I enjoy learning new things about you and learning things about myself through you as well, I’ve genuinely became a better person since you came into my life and that’s down to you (you’ll disagree that you’ve done anything but that’s just you). I could go on and on here but I’m trying to say is, I follow you because you’re you, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Our friendship so far is one of the best and most dear to me, I feel like we’ve known each other before and we’re now picking up where we left off. I know I’m a soppy git but I don’t think you hear these kinda things often enough. Thank you for being you my lil Suede 🦤

Ok, first of all I was like "wow this person knows A Lot...." but then I realised you'd written a book, that was clue no.1 and then Suede for Swede 😅! And finally the Dodo 🤦🏼‍♀️😂

You're still the silliest fucking goose going but ily 🖤🫶🏻

Even if you do talk absolute nonsense 🤣

[rememberingthesugden-dingles]

he’s so happy to see the ring back on aaron’s finger 😭

[noonmutter]

At its simplest, love is showing someone the softest, most vulnerable part of you and inviting them to share that with you, while hoping against hope that they won't just tear it out and run.

Leon