#this is why i think the dementors kiss is such a full circle moment for bcj’s story

[morsmortish]

barty, who cant exist as in individual. he only knows how to live in the capacity of being something to someone else. he has to revolve his entire existence around someone else, making decisions based off of them, never himself. he devotes himself to other people in the way that he loses his own sense of self along the way, if he had any to begin with. his idea of love is closer to worship, obsession. it’s stifling and uncomfortable for every single person he claims to love (bar evan, but that’s a whole other post).

If you love your fav soooooooo much, can you tell me the most flawed and complex thing about them????

[comfortwriting]

Just A House - F.W + S.B

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist, 

Fred Weasley (boyfriend) x Fem Reader x Sirius Black (Father)

About: The reader is finally reunited with her father, Sirius Black, after she was lead to believe that he was killed in Azkaban. During this heartfelt moment, Sirius finds out that she was placed in Slytherin House, he isn't thrilled - but her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, stands by her side.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of food and eating, death and gaunt physique.

Alone. Lost. Missed. Devastated. Confused. Guilty.

You felt like this on a daily basis, all of these feelings were about your father, Sirius Black, who had been absent since your birth after he betrayed the Potters, and murdered twelve muggles, including his friend, Peter.

Luckily, your father had been held accountable for his crimes and was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life until he would meet dementors kiss.

You didn't know if he was alive or dead, and you didn't want to know.

No one talked about him and the only pictures you had of him brought you to tears as he stood beside his friends, smiling, knowing that he would betray them for Voldemort.

You didn't know how to feel at times - you hated yourself for missing him, for thinking about him, for imagining another life where you would get to have the father-daughter relationship you crave - looking in the mirror and seeing his eyes in yours was bittersweet; you had part of him with you, forever - but he's a murderer, a fraud, a rat.

Everything changed when the news broke out that your father escaped Azkaban: Hogwarts no longer felt safe, people stared at you for longer, giving you more dirty looks, more conspiracy theories about you being an undercover spy brewed up, and you were branded as a 'murderer in the making', even Harry couldn't bear to look at you.

The only person you had was your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, why he didn't hate you - you didn't know but you were thankful.

"It's getting bad again" you sighed, your head resting in your hands.

Fred frowned and rubbed your back, chewing on his food, swallowing it before speaking.

"It's not your fault, you aren't responsible for what he did," Fred reassured you, glaring back at students passing by.

Tears streamed down your face, you stared at your plate, in no mood to eat.

"Everyone either blames me, hates me, or suspects me, Harry can't even look at me, Ron can't stand you being around me!"

Fred shushed you, wiping your tears with his sleeve, "Listen to me, people are wrongly afraid of you - their fear is poison - I love you and who cares what my little brother thinks, he's too big for his boots."

"I care, Fred," you replied "I want to be accepted like everyone else is here, I can't even sit with my own house, they hate the fact I'm not celebrating his escape."

Your father broke free from prison, from certain death, yet you weren't cheering or jumping for joy - part of you wanted to be embraced in a warm hug, to finally have the father you always wanted - but the other part of you wished that he had lost his life because if he is as dangerous as everyone had been making out; more people would die, those you cared for, and your life could be on the line.

Laying wide awake in bed, you went through the photographs again, your father smiling, laughing and seen to be having a good time with his friends: harry's dad, James, Lily, Professor Lupin, and Peter who was always awkwardly out of place - his face often showing sheepish expressions.

Unable to stay awake and cry without waking the other girls up, you went into the common room, sitting down on the black leather sofa next to the fireplace that was as dull as the night sky without its stars.

You didn't know whether to light the fire and toss the photos in or to keep them in case you would forget his face - or needed comforting over what could've been.

Out of the corner of your eye, little embers sparked and flew from the fireplace, then before your eyes, the dim common room burst out into bright shades of amber, glowing your face and over the table.

Staring into the flames, your fathers face appeared in front of you, your heart began to pump so hard you could hear it in your ears.

"Y/N, is that really you?" he asked, sounding amazed.

Lie. He's a killer, Y/N, don't talk to him.

But he's your dad, don't you miss him? Don't you crave his attention?

"Y-Yes," you replied frantically "Dad-"

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, come to the Gryffindor Common Room."

It's a trap. Harry's dead, Ron probably is too, and Fred-

Sweetheart.

Departing from the fireplace, you hurried from the common room, taking your photographs with you.

Running as soundlessly as you could through the corridors and up the stairs, you remembered the password Fred shared with you, and you burst into the common room, coming face to face with your father.

There he stood, so skinny, dirty, his face gaunt and hair a mess, his chest covered in symbols and his prison attire in the state of rags.

How did he get here?

How has no one noticed?

Harry- he's standing right there... and Ron... and Fred is okay...

Why is Professor Lupin here-

"Y/N, I have waited since the day you were born for this moment," he said both quietly and softly, inching towards you.

He took hold of your hand, pressing it against his cheek before pulling you in for the tight embrace you had imagined for so long, you wrapped your arms around him, tears streaming down your face, feeling his weak body cradle yours.

"Dad, what how-"

"Peter, it was Peter Pettigrew all along," Fred spoke up, Harry was too afraid to admit the way he treated you was wrong.

You stared at your boyfriend and father, baffled.

"Wormtail framed your father, Y/N, he's responsible for all of this, not your dad." Professor Lupin sighed, walking towards you "The whole Wizarding World has been fed a lie."

You and your dad sat together, talking about everything and anything you could to get one another up to speed.

Your father tried to get in contact with you every chance he got but failed miserably, you showed him the photographs you had left of him, telling him just how much you missed him.

"So, what were you doing in the Slytherin common room?" Sirius asked, "You could get into trouble!"

You looked over to Fred, confused.

He doesn't know?

"I was sorted into Slytherin, dad." You replied, pulling the prefect badge out of your pyjama pocket, handing it to him.

Sirius studied the badge, shaking his head, handing it back to you - a disappointed look on his face.

"No, this can't be, how could you get sorted in with a bunch of sly, wicked, evil!-"

"It's not like that," Fred stepped in, sighing "Slytherin doesn't produce evil witches and wizards, she gets bothered enough being your daughter."

"But Voldemort!-"

"Peter wasn't a Slytherin was he?" Fred asked, folding his arms.

"No-"

"It's just a bloody house, Sirius! You've just got her back haven't you?" Fred held your hand, circling his thumb into your skin.

Sirius nodded "Y-yes, you're right Fredrick, sorry."

You and your dad shared some laughs, smiles, tears, hugs, and many stories before it was time for him to go - your heart so full with healing cracks started to chip again, you couldn't lose him - you just got him back.

"You can't go, you can't" you frowned, gripping onto his hand.

"I have to sweetheart, no one will believe me, it isn't safe for me to be out in the open like this." He said softly, staring into your eyes - the same as his own.

"But I need you," Your voice cracked, tears forming in your eyes.

"And I'll be here for you, you'll get my letters, and next summer, you can come and live with me, if you want to."

Live with dad. Starting over. Catching up on everything we have missed.

"I can?" You asked, covering your mouth, your smile spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course you can,"

Since learning the truth and being given a chance to start over, the bullying didn't bother you anymore - you knew your truth and that's all that mattered.

You were finally able to eat your meals at your house table, often staring over to Fred, blowing kisses when the two of you weren't pulling pranks or skipping class to be together, for the first time in your life, everything felt perfect.

"I'm so happy," you sighed, cuddling up to Fred "I've got you, I've got my dad, Harry and Ron don't hate me, everything is... perfect."

"It always will be from now on, love," Fred replied, kissing your head.

But it wouldn't be perfect, because you had no idea that you were about to lose your father right in front of your eyes, and soon after the love of your life would be taken away from you when you would fight for a future worth living, something your father had done before you were born.

taglist: @horrorxweasley @inglourious-imagines @rreeaahh @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @supermassiveblackhope @pottahishotasf @potters-heart @livvysnaps @scorpireads @youralternantpersonality @onlyfreds

[fred-george-fic]

In the Middle Pt. 3

Cedric x Reader & George x Reader (Eventually)

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who’s enjoyed the story so far! I really appreciate it!

Summary: It’s time for the wizards to enter their name for the Triwizard Tournament!

Pairing(s): Cedric x Reader & George x Reader (eventually)

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst?

Masterlist:~Part 1~Part 2~

The Goblet of Fire

The time leading up to October 30th, went by extremely quickly. Cedric and you continuously spent time together. You two would take trips to Hogsmeade on the weekends, study in the library together, and flirt with each other during Herbology. George and Fred would constantly tease you during other classes and meal times about the amount of time you were spending with Cedric, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“He’s taken her away from us, Georgie.” Fred would say as he sat on the common room couch.

“We spend time with her for six years straight and this is how she repays us.” George would say shaking his head. You would roll your eyes in response, but you knew you had been neglecting your best friends.

You walked with the twins to the Great Hall in order to welcome the two other schools to Hogwarts. The Beauxbatons join in the hall first, giving a dance that leaves over half the boys mouths hanging open. You roll your eyes and make eye contact with Cedric, who winks at you, making you smile. Next the Durmstrang Institute boys come into the hall with their own performance. This time the girls stare in amazement, particularly Hermione looks at Victor Krum a little bit extra than the others. When she makes eye contact with you, she blushes and you laugh slightly. 

Once everyone is seated, Dumbledore begins his speech stating that a champion from each school will be chosen by the Goblet of Fire and students have until the following night on Hallowe’en to put their name in. As the Goblet is put down and the age line is drawn, you could see Fred and George coming up with a devious plan. As you exit the hall, Cedric comes running up to you, wrapping you in a huge hug. “Hello, Cedric.” You say laughing. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m going to put my name in.” He says pulling you out of the hug and holding your shoulders.

“What?” Your eyes get wide. “Cedric, it’s dangerous!”

“I know, but I really think I could stand a chance. Besides, what are the chances of me being picked?” You take a step back from him, trying to take in the information he just gave you.

“Ced-” He kisses you then, pulling you towards him and wrapping you back in his arms.

“I know.” He rests his head on the top of yours. You knew you couldn’t stop him, you just had to support his decision.

“Okay, I’ll support you.” You wrap him into a tight hug, trying to fight back the urge to beg him not too.

“Thank you.” He kisses the top of your head. “I need to go to my common room, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod slightly. He kisses you softly and runs towards his friends, waving back at you one last time before sprinting away down the corridor.

The next day you sat in the Great Hall watching potential champions put their names in with Hermione. You were counting the number of Hogwarts students putting their names in, to hope that Cedric had a high enough chance to not be picked.

 When you hear the doors open, you see Cedric walk in completely drenched, while his Hufflepuff friends laugh and cheer around him, pulling him towards the goblet. As they push him past the ring, his face becomes full of determination. Everything seems like it’s going in slow motion, you hope he’ll see your worry and decide not to put his name in, but his hand reaches up allowing the flame above to consume the paper. His face breaks into a wide smile as his friends immediately fill the room with cheering. You lock eyes for him for just a moment before one of his friends jumps on him in excitement hiding his face. You immediately look away, turning your attention to the door opening and the cheering beginning again. “Just cooked it up this morning!” You her one of the twins say running into the room.

“Oh no.” You say looking startled. You knew the twins wanted to enter, but you never thought they would actual succeed.

“It’s not going to work!” You hear Hermione say.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that Granger?” George says squatting down next to you.

“You see this.” Hermione points at the circle on the ground. “Dumbledore drew it himself”

“So?” Fred says while squatting down next to Hermione.

“So, a genius like Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion.” She scoffs at the boys.

“Ah, but that’s why it’s so brilliant-” Fred begins.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim witted.” George finishes.

“I really hope you’re right, Hermione.” You say looking at her.

She gives you a look and smirks “I know I am.” 

Then the two boys drink the potion with a “Bottoms up” and jump into the age line, cheering once nothing happens. They both put their names into the Goblet of Fire and it immediately shoots how small blue balls of fire and repels the boys backwards. Once they land, you notice they now have grey hair and beards. You laugh slightly, as the boys begin to fight. A crowd begins to gather around them yelling “Fight, Fight, Flight!” But once the crowd hears the doors open back up, everyone turns around. Victor Krum enters and puts his name in the Goblet, smiling at Hermione immediately after.

“It seems someone is starting to fancy you Hermione.” You tease her. She blushes quickly reopening her book and beginning to read. “Well, I guess I should go take care of my rapidly aged best friends.” You say getting up and pulling the two old men off of each other. “Let’s go to the Hospital Wing, boys. Madam Pomfrey can teach me how to undo something like this.”

The truth is, when you weren’t spending time with Fred and George or Cedric, you enjoyed spending time in the Hospital Wing helping Madam Pomfrey treat the patients. You desperately wanted to be a healer and always wished Hogwarts offered a class specifically on healing. But you always settled for Madam Pomfrey teaching you.

------- 

You reach the hospital wing, with George and Fred following behind you and have both of them sit on one of the beds.  “What were you two thinking? An aging potion, really?” You grab Madam Pomfrey’s attention before they can answer.

“Ah, you brought me two more. Easy fix.” She began to remove their beards, showing you how as she did. You began to remove George’s beard when you heard her sigh.

“Are you alright, Madam Pomfrey?” You ask, looking at her concerned.

“I am just worried about the tournament. I feel it is going to bring the school nothing but grief. We already had to deal with dementors last year, who knows what this tournament will bring.” She sighs again and continues removing Fred’s beard. “They are just putting these poor children through so much. Seventeen is still a child in my eyes.”

You continue working on George’s beard, nodding your head. “I completely agree.” As you finished up removing the beard, you noticed that George’s hair began to change back to its vibrant orange. “There’s the Georgie, I know!” You run your hand through his hair and shake slightly. As you did this, George’s eyes met yours, you stood there for a moment, staring at each other. You hear a cough breaking you out of your trance and look over to see Fred looking normal as well.

“Alright, time to explain yourselves.” You say taking a step back from the boys and crossing your arms.

“Fame-” Fred nodded.

“Glory-“ George continued.

“Money.” They both said in unison, looking at each other with a smile.

“You know, not everything is about making money.” You say sitting beside them on the bed.

“We know that, but ever since Bagman ran off with our savings-“ Fred began.

 “We’ve had no hope of opening up our store.” George finished, looking down at the ground.

“I’ll help in any way I can, okay? But, you both need to stay safe, or else you’ll never be able to open it.” You look at the boys, hoping to attempt to boost their spirits. “I have some savings, it’s not much, but you can have it.”

“Y/N, we could never take money from you.” George says, looking over at you.

 “Yeah, there’s no way!” Fred yelled, causing Madam Pomfrey to shush him.

“It’s an investment, you can pay me back later.” You give both the boys a comforting smile and get up off the bed. “We should head back to the common room before the ceremony starts.” All three of you leave the medical ward and begin to head back towards the common room.

-------

Later that evening, after Fred and George had been de-bearded, everyone headed to the Great Hall in order to learn who the three champions are. As you sat there, you hoped that Cedric’s name wouldn’t be called. Since you were helping Madam Pomfrey with the twins, you didn’t get a chance to see him after he put his name in. As the students begin to quiet down, Dumbledore begins his speech and the first name is called.

“Victor Krum!” The boy from Durmstrang walks up and stands at the front, he was the seeker you saw at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Fleur Delacour!” A beautiful girl with blonde hair from Beauxbaton walks up and stands next to Victor. 

“And finally, Cedric Diggory!” Everything goes quiet for a minute, you can see people cheering, but your ears just start ringing. You grab George’s hand, holding onto it tight. You needed to hold onto something, anything, because you felt like you were going to faint. George looks over at you, eyes wide and holds your hand tightly. You make eye contact with Cedric as he stands at the front, he tries to smile at you, but you just stare at him in disbelief. All of the sudden, the Goblet of Fire turns fire red and spits out on last name.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore says almost as if he doesn’t believe it. Harry doesn’t get up at first, he just sits there, unsure of what to do. “HARRY POTTER!” Dumbledore’s voice becomes more urgent as Hermione pushes Harry up to the front of the hall. Soon all the champions are taken out of the room and the other students are told to return to their respective common rooms.

At first you don’t get up, you feel like you’re glued down to the bench. George is still holding your hand, saying something to you. But you’re struggling to listen. You keep hearing Dumbledore shout Cedric’s name and the faint cheers erupt through the halls.

“Y/N!” You finally hear George say, you notice that Fred is sitting on your other side.

“Sorry. I- I don’t know what came over me” You quickly get up and walk with the two boys, both of them sharing worried glances above your head as you walk back to the common room.

-------

“Hey, Y/N?” Harry comes back from the champions meeting and approaches you where you are sitting staring out a window in the common room. The rest of Gryffindor was throwing a party in Harry’s honor. Fred and George were hovering nearby, in case you needed a friend, but continued chatting with other people otherwise. 

“Harry!” You quickly get up and hug him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m a little dumfounded, but fine nonetheless.” He gives you a hug, grateful to have someone looking out for him immediately, besides just celebrating. “Cedric is outside waiting for you.”

“Thank you Harry” You quickly run towards the door, immediately seeing Cedric on the other side. You rush over to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He kisses the top of your head and holds you there for a long moment. The longer he holds you, the more emotional you become and you quietly start crying into his shirt, your shoulders rising and falling.

“Hey, look at me.” Cedric cups your face in his hands, pulling it up to face him. “I’m going to be okay. I promise.” He kisses you then, softly. He uses his fingers to wipe the tears off of your face, then gently kisses you on the nose. “The first task is on the 24th of November.”

“Okay.” You whisper quietly and look into his eyes “I’ll be there to support you. I know if anyone can win this, it’s you.”

A wide smile spreads across his face and he kisses you deeply. “That’s all I needed to hear. Now, go get some sleep, love.” He kisses your forehead and releases you from his grip. You give him one last peck before going back into the common room, heading into your dorm and drifting off to sleep.

[amyscascadingtabs]

expecto patronum

Post-The Fugitive. Jake and Amy talk Harry Potter, patronuses, and love.

✨read on ao3  ✨ 

“Hey, babe, I’m home!”

The door makes a distinctive clicking noise behind Jake as he locks it. It’s only one of the many sounds he’s getting used to; his new home is full of them, and they’ve become much more noticeable now that he’s here every day. He’s known his way around this apartment for a long time, but living there, permanently, is different. It’s a good kind of different, though. 

“In here!” Amy shouts from her – from their – bedroom, and Jake hurries to hang up his jacket and bag before going to greet his girlfriend. 

    He’s coming home late tonight. A questioning at work dragged over after a surprise confession, and as exciting as those are, Jake’s bitter over missing dinner and Property Brothers with Amy. He half hadn't expected her to be awake still, but once he was finally free to text her that he was on his way home, she replied straight away to tell him she'd be waiting. Rosa had teased him about how wide he’d been smiling, but Jake hadn’t found it in him to care. 

Amy’s laying on her stomach in bed with a thick book leaned against the pillow, resting her chin against one hand as she reads and holding up the cover with her other. Jake recognizes the book; it’s Prisoner of Azkaban, the third book in the Harry Potter series. He was reading it himself a few weeks ago.

“Ah, Harry Potter. Good choice.”

Amy closes the book against her index finger and looks up at him. “Yeah, you inspired me. How was work?”

“We got a confession,” he grins. “It was dope. Guy just started rambling, pretty much told us his whole life story for some reason, and now we have him. I even got to call the victim’s mom, tell her the news.”

“Sounds like a good day, then.”

“Yeah. Missed seeing you, though.”

“You see me all the time, babe. We live and work together.”

“I know, so it makes me feel even weirder when I don't!”

Amy laughs, letting out that adorable chortling sound he only ever hears when they're alone. Then she looks back to her book, scooching closer to her preferred side of the bed, and Jake takes that as an instruction to change into pajamas so he can join her. 

Any regular night, he would probably have taken time to shower and brush his teeth first, but it's been a long day. He simply undresses instead, smirking as he notices Amy’s subtle side glance when he takes off his shirt. This, these small moments of appreciation between them, is yet another one of the parts he loves most about sharing a life with her – it’s nearly midnight, he’s exhausted and he remembers Amy mentioning starting her period, so sex is almost guaranteed to be off the table – but she still makes him feel attractive, makes him feel confident and wanted. He never realized how much that being an equal exchange meant to him before their relationship.

   “So,” he asks her, “where are you up to in the book, then?”

“Almost finished the whole thing,” she says, looking very proud of herself. “I’m at the time-turner chapter. Harry thinks he saw his dad cast a patronus from the other side of the lake, but then he realizes just saw himself.” 

“Man, that part was so sad.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah!” Jake huffs, crawling underneath the covers. “I just… felt for him, you know? He wishes he could meet his parents, just once, even if he knows it's impossible. He wants this family he never had.”

“It makes you realize how in the end, he's just a kid. A brave kid, but a kid.”

“A kid in desperate need of therapy.”

“Amen,” says Amy, flipping a page. “Hogwarts mental health services do seem to be severely lacking. Did you know the dementors were inspired by the author’s own experiences with depression, by the way?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Dark creatures with the power to bring out all the worst memories in your head, making you feel like you’ll never be happy again. Like you can’t even remember what it’s like. And the only way to defeat them is to hold onto the very happiest moments of your life and create a shield out of them.”

“Kind of deep for a kid's book,” Jake reflects, and Amy nods. 

“Maybe. But it's not pushed on them, either. It's a way for them to understand, without knowing that they're understanding. I always loved that about the Harry Potter books,” she says, a sudden dreamy look in her eyes. “They're just… intelligent.”

   Jake means to agree with her, but then his body remembers he's been at work for the entire day, and out comes an embarrassingly big yawn that makes Amy laugh. 

“Long day? I can read to you if you want.”

“Dreamgirl,” he mumbles. Amy rolls her eyes, but then she reaches out to pull him closer, her left hand running through his hair as she holds the book with her right, and he can see her smiling.

   Jake's not sure how long she's reading for. He loses track of time, but frankly, he doesn’t mind. Amy's reading voice is low, peaceful enough to relax him but varied enough to entice him at the same time. Her fingers keep brushing through his curls as she reads, tracing soft circles on his scalp. He listens to her read the part where Harry and Hermione fly on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius, and it doesn't matter that he read the book himself just a few weeks ago, because he could listen to her voice forever.

   He gets to do that now, he realizes, because they live together now. It may only have been a week, and not completely without its challenges, but it already feels like one of the best decisions of his life. Even though they were spending almost every night together before as well, there’s something special about coming home and Amy already being there. Not because they’ve made specific plans for her to be, but because that’s the norm, because home is the same place for the two of them now. There’s something intimate about getting to share a routine with her, working out a system for who gets the bathroom when in the morning, adding stuff onto the same grocery list. Even seeing his t-shirts next to hers in the dresser puts a smile on his face in the morning. It feels grown-up, and it feels stable, and it feels right. 

    He wonders sometimes if he could have imagined this the night she knocked on his door to tell him screw light and breezy. Honestly, he probably could have, even if he was too proud to admit it to himself in the beginning. But after a year and a half of dating, of which six excruciating months were spent apart (and hopefully no more will ever be, he thinks), Jake couldn’t care less about pride. He loves Amy Santiago, and he wants to spend all the time he can with her, give her everything and share his life with her for as long as she’ll let him. That, if anything, makes him proud. In any case, it’s like he said that first night undercover as Johnny and Dora – there’s really no one else’s opinion he cares about more than hers. 

    Amy finishes the chapter, reaching for a bookmark before putting the book on her nightstand.

“There,” she laughs. “That’s your goodnight story.”

“Mm, one more chapter.”

“Mm, no. It’s late, babe.”

“I have a question,” he says then, knowing it’ll garner her attention and give him some more treasured quality time before they really have to go to sleep. Amy raises an eyebrow and shakes her head lovingly at him, but then she nods. “Harry’s patronus is a stag, right? Like his dad’s animagus form. And in the fifth book, Hermione has an otter, and Ron some kind of dog.”

“A Jack Russell terrier. Yeah, why?”

“How is your patronus determined? Like… how does it know?”

“It’s supposed to reflect your innermost personality,” she answers, not missing a beat. “It represents something about you that makes you who you are. Something that gives you strength, I would say. So for Harry, that would be the thought of his parents fighting for him.”

“I like that,” Jake says. “A lot of things in that universe are just grossly poetic though, aren't they?”

This makes Amy chuckle. “Very true.”

“What do you think yours would be?”

“Oh. Hmm.” She presses her lips together. “I don't know. What do you think?”

“We could find out,” He grins, reaching for his phone. “I’m sure there's a BuzzFeed quiz.”

      He's right – and although Amy rolls her eyes at him at first, they end up having a laugh at the quiz, picking the options they think best suit the other one and shrugging when the results suggest Amy’s would be a horse, and Jake’s a stag.

“The descriptions are pretty accurate, though,” Amy says, reading from Jake’s phone. “Brave and fearless, and your greatest asset is your ability to love. Sometimes you get a bit hot-headed and impatient –” Jake fake-gasps. “– but your friends are your source of peace, getting you through the good and bad.”

“I still think it should be a ninja turtle,” he mutters. “But yours is true, too. Loyal, smart, underrated badass.”

“It just gave us the same patronuses as Harry and Ginny.” Amy smiles. “They do get together later, so I guess that works.”

“Spoilers! I haven’t gotten to that part yet!”

“Oh, come on, it’s really obvious.” She kisses the pouting grimace off of his face. “Different question. What memory would you use to cast your patronus?”

“I have thought about that,” he confesses, blushing. “It’s a three-way tie. The first time you told me you loved me. That evening when you stood outside my door and told me you wanted to be with me, for reals. Maybe even our first date, after the bet. All of those, together… I think they’d make a damn good patronus.”

“Wow.” Amy almost looks taken aback, like she wasn’t expecting that moment of sincerity. “I’m surprised you didn’t just say the first time we had sex or something.”

“Would you have wanted me to say that? Wait, is that yours? Santiago –”

“Oh my god, obviously not –”

“Obviously? Wow, hurtful, much –”

“Just let me finish!”

“Title of –”

“Stop!” Amy’s shaking with laughter, holding her hand on top of his mouth just for a second. “Stop, stop. What I meant to say was that it’s the same for me. That’s what I’d think of, too.”

“Even the bet? Even though you lost?”

“Yes, babe. Even though I lost.”

“So it wouldn’t be the first time we had sex, then.”

She smirks. “We’ve had better since.”

Then she leans over him, and her lips are on his, insistent but soft at once. His heartbeat’s speeding by the time she pulls away, and it satisfies him to see that her face is a little flushed, too. 

“For the record,” Jake mumbles as she rests her head on his chest after, “this, right here – would also work for a damn good patronus.”

“Oh, yeah. No dementor would stand a chance.”

“Mm. You’re a nerd, but I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the feeling that’s started growing in him recently.

Forever, this could be forever.

[finecole]

George Weasley x Reader // ‘Back in no time’

They all knew what they were signing up for when they agreed to help move Harry, but George and (Y/n) had convinced themselves it wouldn’t go wrong as they squeezed each others hand in goodbye. Story takes place during and around the Battle of the Seven Potters. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x female!Reader, Fred Weasley x Reader (friendship)

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, under age drinking

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

You stepped over the threshold of number four, Privet Drive, one hand still locked in with George’s. This was going to be the first thing you’d ever do for the Order, and by God, you hoped it wasn’t going to be your last.

Harry looked down at you all, slightly bewildered, wondering why there were so many of you. Mad-eye Moody cleared it all up, and started handing out the Pollyjuice. You looked up at George smirking, as he waited his turn, ‘’About to lose all that handsome, huh?’’

‘’Oh, don’t worry (Y/n), you’ll have me back in no time,’’ he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you took each other’s faces in.

The past few weeks, a sadness had started growing behind both your eyes. You’d tried hiding it under jokes and grins, but reality was slowly creeping up on you, like a slow thick fog, as every morning an owl came bearing bad news. Not to mention the news that went unreported, but was noticed none the less.

Mad-Eye poured George his concoction, but before he lifted the potion to his lips, you softly pulled him towards you by his shirt, connecting your lips. The kiss, far too short, but containing so many words none of you dared say out loud.

‘’We’ll be fine,’’ he said as you broke apart. ‘’They don’t even know we’re coming.’’

This, Mad-Eye was almost certain of. Perhaps a few lonely Deatheaters, but nothing you couldn’t handle right? You clung to seven years of Hogwarts teachings and the memories at the room of requirement.

Everyone went in pairs, except for your party: Mad-Eye, questioning Mundungus’ trustworthiness, had pulled you aside two days ago at The Burrow asking you to join him, just in case. You’d agreed, wanting very much to help the cause. But looking at Mundungus now, jumpy and sweating, you felt like this was going to be a little more than just a transport.

George took the potion, and in a matter of seconds there were seven Harry’s. Fred and George started poking each other, their clothes a tad bit too large for Harry’s frame. What a sight.

You went back outside, squeezing George’s hand one more time before you took your place on your broom. Five years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team should be enough, you thought to yourself, if the need for a quick getaway would arise.

Mad-Eye appeared beside you, followed by a transformed Mundungus. ‘’Ready?’’

‘As much as I’ll ever be,’’ you answered.

He patted you on the shoulder before turning to the rest. ‘’Everyone ready, please; I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion’s lost.’’

Everyone mounted their brooms.

‘’Good luck, everyone,’’ shouted Mad-Eye. ‘’See you all in about an hour at The Burrow. On the count of three. One…’’

Your eyes met George’s – well, Harry’s.

‘’Two…’’

He winked.

‘’Three!’’

The next moment, a motorbike roared, and for a moment, the soaring of wings and brooms was all that occupied the night time.

You took Mundungus’ right side and rose through the air fast, heading north, your eyes watering and hair whipping wildly behind you.  Surrey shrunk beneath you, and when the lights below you started looking like constellations, your broom gave a violent shake.

Behind you, a small dark cloud was moving towards you, fast. A dementor? No, dementors couldn’t use spells.

‘’Something’s here!’’ you shouted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Mad-Eye’s fake eye turn into his head.

Another green streak barely missed Mundungus, who was now starting to panic.  

‘’It’s him!’’ Mad-Eye shouted.

No - Voldemort? You looked back around; more figures had appeared beside the cloud. Squinting, you could make out the outline of a face, barely human. It couldn’t be…

Mundungus had now properly lost it. ‘’Mad-Eye, y- you said this wouldn’t happen! Death Eaters – one thing - but the dark lord?!’’

Mundungus leaned down on his broom, wand in hand, ready to flee.

‘’Keep it together!’’ Mad-Eye shouted at him, as he tried taking him by his arm.

But it was too late, Mundungus had suddenly disappeared in the night, and Mad-Eye, trying to regain his balance after grabbing nothing but air, was struck by the green.

You chocked on a scream. Mad-Eye stilled, and fell into the constellations below, growing smaller and smaller.

This couldn’t be happening. You looked behind you, Voldemort had retreated, but three of his Death Eaters continued to give chase. Below you, forest appeared, and you quickly dove down. Better chance behind a tree, you thought, as you weaved between their curses.

You went lower and lower. Tears were starting to form, flying of your face as fast as they appeared, as your mind went to all the places it shouldn’t. You’ll have me back in no time. Your parents, waiting for Mr. Weasley and Fred to take the portkey. No – you’d shake them off, or go down in a fight.

You’d reached the edge of the forest, and started weaving through the oak trees, small twigs scratching you up. You hoped a rogue branch wouldn’t bring an end to the plan.

The Death Eaters had reached the forest too now, and they were gaining on you, their voices growing louder and more maniacal.

‘’Come here girl! If you oblige, we’ll make it quick!’’

A scream followed, and you risked taking a look behind you. One of them had hit a tree, but his friends were too occupied to give a care. Another spell was rushing towards you. Too late to dodge, it scraped past your right arm. A burning sensation spread from where the spell hit, making you loosen your grip on the broom.

More spells flew past you. They were catching up, and they were growing more and more angry, as green streaks became common. You couldn’t keep this up for long, where were you going? The Burrow, the safehouse? But you’d be leading them right-

A spell put an end to your thoughts, as it hit the end of your broom, making it swerve to the right. The broom’s back hit the tree and whirled around, causing you to lose balance and fall.

Trying to soften the fall you stretched your arms out automatically, resulting in a loud snap and the pain in your right arm growing even more unbearable.

You scrambled behind a large tree, trying desperately to ignore the pain and listen for cracking twigs and leaves behind you. Blood was running down your arm, too fast. Fear and pain was catching up to the adrenaline.

Snap. You whirled around the tree. And with all the power and hope you had left, aimed a pair of stunning spells.

‘’Stupefy!’’ Straight to his chest, a loud thud followed, but not before he got out a spell of his own.

That same burning, sharp feeling, rushing across your abdomen. You were growing light-headed.

You heard the final Death Eater call out to his stunned colleague in the distance. Or was it close by… You could barely tell as sounds were starting to mingle together. Your white shirt was steadily growing a dark red. Too much blood… Your mind raced for a spell, something to close the wound, refill blood, but nothing came.

You gave your wand a final flick, a silver sliver growing larger and larger, before everything turned dark.

--- Fred’s POV ---

Fred stood by the couch on which George was resting, looking outside through the kitchen window. Two figures came into view. Ron, or (Y/n)? A flash of pink hair gave it away.

‘’Ron’s back.’’ They both let out a sigh of relief.

‘’She should have been back by now,’’ George said softly, his voice cracking. He had convinced himself that everything would be fine, but the many absences and his lack of a second ear were surely making him worry.

‘’Don’t worry Georgie, she’ll be back. She has to,’’ Fred said, eyes still outside. ‘’I’m going to wait outside alright? You rest.’’

George tried to protest, but standing up made his head spin so much he had to lay back down.

As soon as Fred walked through the kitchen door, a Thestral carrying Bill and Fleur appeared. His mother rushed towards them, enveloping Bill in a hug. But as they pulled away, Bill’s face turned grim and looked directly at father.

“Mad-Eye’s dead.’’

Fred swallowed a lump, and was about to press on when Bill continued:

‘’We saw it, it happened just after we broke out of the circle: Mad-Eye, Dung and (y/n) were close by us, they were heading north too. Voldemort – he can fly – went straight for them. Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad-Eye tried to stop him, but he Dissaparated. Voldemort’s curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backwards off his broom – and there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail –‘’

Fred closed the distance between his brother in a second and took him by the shoulders.

‘’(Y/n)? Did you see anything – Bill, is she?’’ He couldn’t finish that sentence; it couldn’t be true.

Mum put a hand to her mouth, head shaken up by a constant tugging between worry and relief, and looked inside through the door. George’s red hair was just sticking out over the top of the couch.

‘’I don’t know, I think I saw her fly off but they were following her. I’m – I’m sorry.’’ Bill looked at the ground, tears prickling in his eyes.

Fred spun around to his parents. ‘’She’s out there!’’

Anger was starting to nibble on him from the inside out. Their best friend can’t be gone.

Mum suppressed a sob. ‘’Freddie, you have to tell George.’’

She looked at Arthur and her features contorted in pain as she realised something.

‘’Merlin- Arthur, I have to tell Anne to get here.’’

Fred walked back inside, shaking his head, tears forming. No one was supposed to die. Stop. She’s still out there, she had to be, for all of their sakes. For herself.

‘’Freddie?’’ George peered over the back of the couch.

Fred wiped his eyed on his sleeve.

‘’She’s not back yet. Mad-Eye’s dead.’’

George shot up, ignoring the spinning sensation. ‘’What?!’’

Fred rushed towards his side, ‘’Easy George, Bill thinks he saw her fly off, she could turn up any minute now…’’ His words were barely audible now. Who was he trying to convince?

With everyone inside, a silence, interrupted by George’s soft sobs, befell upon them all.

Arthur was leaning on the doorframe, facing outside, when suddenly he jumped up and shouted. ‘’A patronus!’’

Fred and George shot up and rushed to their father’s side. A lioness appeared from the tall grass; she sat down, and locked her eyes on George’s.

‘’That’s (Y/n)’s.’’ George said, pain written all over his features. ‘’She’s in trouble, we have to help!’’

Fred shook his head. ‘’You’re in no condition, I’ll go. Dad?’’

Arthur nodded and flicked his wand; a pair of brooms flew towards him and Fred. Bill Got back on the Thestral, joining in.

George made to protest, but Fred softly pushed him backwards.

‘’George look at yourself. Don’t worry - we’ll get your girl,’’ Fred grinned, taking a seat.

The three of them took off, the lioness running below, leading them towards the forest before dissolving.

Molly joined George’s side, steering him back inside. But before George managed to settle down, another flash appeared outside. Everyone reached for their wands, but someone had already made their way in.

It was a witch, dressed in lime green robes, with her hands up.

‘’Molly - what happened?!’’

---

They landed right at the edge of the forest, and looked around them for any signs. The moon was hiding behind clouds, making it hard to see anything. Fred lit up the end of his wand.

‘’Put it out,’’ Arthur hissed. ‘’There could still be some left.’’

Fred looked at his father, and whispered ‘’How are we supposed to find her then? Besides, they’ll hear us anyway.’’ He stepped on some leaves; a loud crunching sound protruded the darkness, like cutlery dropped on the kitchen floor at midnight.

Arthur sighed, nodded and lit up his wand as well. Bill followed suit, and they made their way in.

Hoping there was no one left (if there was, they surely would be seen), they walked on as Fred thought of the summer after your fourth year at Hogwarts.

Fred, George and you had sneaked off past bedtime, a bottle of fire whiskey in hand, towards the nearby forest. At the edge, you sat down, made a small fire, and decided on a few rounds of truth and dare. The burn of whiskey fresh, you accepted a dare to go into the forest alone, and without wand. Had it not been for the liquid courage, and George’s teasing about (Y/n)’s fear of the dark, she’d never have gone for it, Fred thought.

Five minutes passed, and another, and more. Fred and George, who had, up to that point, occupied themselves with the alcohol, thought it quite odd you’d been gone for so long; they decided to check up on you. Both not too keen on the pitch black forest themselves, they anxiously looked around them.

‘’(Y/n)!?’’ The twins shouted.

Nothing but the cracking of leaves under their feet.

‘’Come on (Y/n), this isn’t funny anymore!’’ George shouted.

Thud. They turned around at the same time, shoulders glued together.

“D – Did you hear that?’’ Fred whispered.

George nodded, and swallowed hard. It felt like his heart was trying to run away without him.

‘’ROAR!’’ You jumped up behind them, slamming your hands between their shoulder blades.

The twins nearly fell and yelled so hard the birds around them awakened and took flight. Scrambling back up to their feet, they pointed their wands at you.

You doubled over in laughter, ‘’ Your – your faces! Brilliant!’’

Fred and George looked at each other, trying to make sense of what just happened, before joining in on the laughter.

‘’I’m never going to let you live this down,’’ you said, as you stepped in between them and steered them back to the campfire.

Oh, how Fred hoped you would jump out of hiding again to scare them.

‘’There,’’ Bill whispered, pointing at a dark lump in the distance.

Slowly, they made their way over. Arthur held his wand up, revealing the lump’s old and wrinkled face. ‘’Rookwood.’’

‘’Alive?’’ Fred asked.

Arthur bent down, checked Rookwood’s pulse, and shook his head.

‘’Well, (Y/n)’s got to be close then.’’ Fred said, hope appearing. He broke off from the group, trying to find a trace, when suddenly he got an idea.

‘’Accio (Y/n)’s wand,’’ he looked around him, waiting for movement. Anything.

Seconds seemed to last forever, when suddenly they heard the rustling of leaves to their right, and a-

‘’Ouch!’’ Bill cried, rubbing his cheek. Your wand had poked him, and then fallen to his feet before continuing its journey to Fred’s hand.

‘’Good thinking,’’ Arthur looked up to his son, pride swelling inside him.

They headed in the direction from which the wand came. Fred, holding his breath in anticipation, could almost see you jumping from a tree, when his foot kicked something. There lay what was left of a broom, scattered all over the forest ground, and drips of blood.

His eyes followed the trail of blood, and saw it disappear behind a large tree a few steps in front of him. He signaled to the others, pointing at the ground and the tree. Bill and Arthur nodded, following Fred.

They rounded the corner, and Fred gasped, making Bill and Arthur rush to his side.

There you sat, without movement, slumped against the tree; shirt soaked in blood, face scratched up, right arm at an odd angle.

Arthur cursed under his breath, rushed towards you, and checked your pulse.

‘’She’s alive, but we have to be quick, she’s soaked in blood,’’ Arthur breathed, ‘’her mother’s probably arrived by now.’’

There had only been a few times in Fred’s live when he was unable to produce any words. First George, now (Y/n) in an even worser state. Fred tried convincing himself: surely, her mother, head healer at St.Mungo’s, could mend her.

Arthur carefully scooped you up and they hurried back to the edge of the forest. He placed you on the Thestral in front of Bill, and with a great haste, they flew back to the Burrow.

---- George’s POV ----

Your mum was sitting at the kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea sitting in front of her. She had looked at George’s ear – or lack thereof, and concluded it was fine, and was now being comforted by Molly.

They’d been gone for almost an hour now, and George, even though his injury was screaming for it, was unable to get any rest. The rest of the family and member of the Order had been sitting in the living room, still processing Mad-Eye’s death, and pondering your whereabouts.

‘’Molly!’’ someone yelled from outside.

Everyone’s face shot up, and Molly had already scurried off to open the door, your mother right behind her.

George sat up and looked over the back of the couch, and time seemed to slow down; Arthur rushed in, you in his arms, covered in blood. He saw mouths move, but heard no words. Molly cleared the kitchen table, where you were laid down. Your mothers face in shock, but ready care for you.

George didn’t know when or how, but his legs had carried him towards the kitchen. Your name was sitting on his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out. Fred was now next to him, his hand on his shoulder.

Gashes and scratches all over your body, painting your clothes and skin red. He had to be dreaming, George thought. He’d fallen asleep – this was a nightmare. He’d wake up, and be told to get ready for Harry’s transport. Right?

His mother had taken him by the shoulders again, steering him towards the stairs, Fred following suit. ‘’Come on boys, let Anne do her job.’’

He didn’t want to go, he needed to be there for you, hold your hand - but his mother’s look told him not to try – Anne needed the quiet. Tears were pouring down his face again – how much more could he cry tonight?

Molly, eyes watery too, enveloped him in a hug, ‘’She’ll be okay dear – I promise, everything will be fine in the morning.’’

They let go, and George followed his brother up the stairs, the yearning for your comforting touch attracting all your memories together.

--- (Y/n)’s POV ---

Your eyelids were so heavy, it was as if someone had placed rocks on them. You focused on your other senses; bird song in the distance, a light breeze, heat – sunshine? Calmness, an early morning. To bask in its serenity, just for a moment longer, with your mind empty and thoughts far, far away.

You pried your eyes open, a room so familiar unfolding itself before you there was no way to keep the memories from flooding in; The Burrow – you were moving Harry.

You shot up at the thought, an awful pain shooting through your abdomen, reminding you of your encounter with the death eaters. Lifting your shirt, a scar running from side to side revealed itself.

‘’(Y/n)?’’ A soft whisper spoke behind you.

A pregnant pause occupied the room, before you turned around in your bed – with as much speed as the scar allowed.

His hair a tangled mess, bags under his eyes, but here, with you in the same room.

“Georgie…’’

He was in your arms in a second. Your bodies melted together, his usual warmth enveloping you like a fire in winter. Tears escaped your eyes as the just returned fear you’d felt was driven away by relief. If only you could stay like this.

He pulled away, sinking in your eyes. How scared he had been. How many silly jokes he had thought of in the past 24 hours to cheer you up once you came back to them; all forgotten at the sight of you conscious – safely in his arms.

You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss, when you suddenly noticed a certain something missing. Worry must have crossed your face, as George grinned.

‘’I’m holy now, get it?’’

You smacked his chest, but couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping.

‘’Repeating jokes now are we, brother dearest?’’

Fred appeared in the doorway, a wide smile lifting his cheeks as he took at the two of you.

‘’Fred! Come here!’’ You waved him over, taking his hand as he got closer and sat down on the bed. He hugged you, a tad too strongly as a you felt your abdomen sting.

‘’Good thing you woke up so soon, (Y/n/n), George over here was becoming unbearable.’’ Fred joked, but you knew he was just as relieved as his twin, as he tried to wipe away a tear in secret.

The three of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like just another one of your sleepovers. One like the many others you’d had in your 19 years of friendship; without worry, just excited to see what the next day would bring, no mention of war in sight.

George took your hand. ‘’You’re mother’s downstairs in the garden. Should I call her up?’’

You shook your head. ‘’Help me get down, I want to see the rest.’’

Fred and George helped you up, and half leaning on George, you made your way down, Fred parading in front joyfully announcing your arrival.

George grinned down at you, ‘’Told you you’d have me back in no time.’’

A playful gasp escaped your lips. ‘’Why yes, no time and a couple of scars.’’

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Secrets | d.m imagine

Hermione and I are on our way to the Great Hall to have breakfast with Ron and Harry. We accidentally overslept this morning because we were up late last night studying for our upcoming DADA test. She tries to hide her yawing, but I can tell by the dark circles under her eyes, that she is as tired as I am.

- You know what I don’t understand? – She looks at me confused – How on Merlin were you sorted into Gryffindor with that attitude of yours? Don’t get me wrong, you know I love you, you’re my best friend, but the amount of sass you have and how determined you can get, you’d be better off at Slytherin, but you still ended up at Gryffindor.

I freeze for a second, memories flashing right before my eyes from a couple of years ago.

*4 years ago*

I’m aimlessly wandering around the caste with my fellow schoolmates around me. A bunch of 11 years old, who are very much eager to start their school year at the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The endless corridors amaze us, and the living pictures scare most of us as they welcome the new students with a few nice words. We’re waiting by a huge old wooden door for Professor McGonogall to let us in so we can be sorted into our Houses. I know a lot about this School. My brother was a student here, along with my parents, their parents and basically my whole family.

- Follow me, please – an elder student comes up to us to lead the way. We’re called to a chair and the Sorting Hat is placed on our heads. For some student he doesn’t have to think much which House he should put them, but for a boy, named Harry Potter, he thinks a lot. It looks like he cannot make a decision, but suddenly he yells out Gryffindor.

- Next is, Miss Y/F/N – as Professor McGonogall calls my name, my knees start to shake, and my palms get sweaty. Without any shown emotion, I sit on the stall, my legs not being long enough to reach the ground. My breathing is getting heavier second by second as the Hat is getting put on me.

Please, not Slytherin. Please, do NOT put me in Slytherin.

- Hmm, what do we have here – the loud voice of the Hat starts and I feel like I’m going to faint soon – Oh, wow… - he hums – Very interesting mind. A huge knowledge, and bravery – for a second I feel a slight relief as he’s listing the Gryffindor characteristics – But I see creativity, with a very strong determination and ability to be a great leader…just like a true Slytherin.

Please, I’m begging. Do NOT put me in the Slytherin House…

- Exciting thoughts you have here, young Y/Fam/N – the Hat chuckles but yells out my house finally – Gryffindor!

 *Present*

- Hey, are you OK? – Hermione asks me. I zoned out after the flashback. All these years, nobody asked be why it was so hard for the Sorting Hat to choose my House. They still think I’m just a rather complicated person with quite a twisted personality.

- Yeah, sure – I smile weakly at her – I’m just tired, hungry and nervous about our DADA test, that’s all – I shrug and fasten my walking to the Great Hall. Never in my years at Hogwarts have I thought that maybe my secrets will be exposed one day. And that day was closer than I imagined.

Two weeks have passed since Hermione’s question, and ever since than I’ve tried everything to avoid that specific topic, but she doesn’t seem to want to. Every chance she has, she would ask about my family and why in Merlin’s love I’m not talking about them or about my life outside of Hogwarts. Last night we even had a fight about it in front of half of the School, when she pushed her questions on me during dinner. I got enough of her obsession with my family tree and rushed out of the Hall. But on my way out, I saw Draco Malfoy looking at me with a knowing smirk and some foreign flame in his eyes. Something, that looked very close to sympathy.

- Hermione, I think you should drop it – I hear Harry trying to convince her – I bet those are just rumours. You know how bad they can be.

I walk up to them but before I can sit down on my usual spot next to Hermione, she jumps up and looks at me fumingly. I immediately know that she knows. Of course she does.

- Could you tell me when you wanted to tell us everything? – Her voice is louder than usual and it attracts the attentions of the students at Great Hall. They loved a great drama during dinner time, so they could talk about something after it at their Common Rooms.

- Hermione – I warn her that neither the place, nor time is right for this conversation. But when I try to ask her to talk about this somewhere more private, she cuts me off.

- Do not Hermione me, Y/N – she screams at me with pain in her eyes – A couple of weeks ago I asked you how you were sorted into Gryffindor, when you clearly have the characteristics of a Slytherin. You zoned out and didn’t give me an answer – she starts her story – Silly me thought, it must be a misunderstanding, or you were just going through this weird faze when you act like a total jackass. I tried to talk with you about this, but you changed the subject every single time – she is playing with her wand like she was some kind of teacher, trying to teach us the lesson – So you gave me no other choice than to do some research…

- Hermione, I think we should – Harry stands beside her, tugging on her robe to pull her away from me. Ron stands up too and looks worried. At least he is worried. People are gathering around us, eager to find out what this whole drama is really about. I spot a platinum blond head in the crowd, Draco’s eyes burning my face as he is trying to read in my mind.

- We should do what, Harry? Hmm? – Hermione pushes off his hand from her shoulder and looks back at me – We should just live with the fact that one of our oh so called best friend is actually supposed to be a Slytherin, being the descendent of one of the most ancient pureblood wizard families? Or you just want to avoid the fact that her father was sentenced to death by a Dementor’s kiss, and her brother is probably die in one of the most guarded cells of Azkaban because they were loyal to Who He Shall Not Be Named and served him? Almost everyone in her family was, or still a Death Eater.

Everyone around us gasps. Silence fills the Great Hall as Hermione yells out the last words. Everyone is surprised, except Malfoy. He looks like he knew about this the whole time, and he probably did. His parents being Death Eaters as well, they might had known my father.

- Your mother changed your name, used her middle name as your last name so it might confuse the Sorting Hat – she takes a step closer to me, her wand still in her hand as she was afraid I might hex her. And in this moment, I really want to do that, but I won’t – That’s why the Hat was confused. That’s why the Professors acted like they had no idea who you were, but they all knew.

- You couldn’t keep your nose out of my business, right? – I scoff and look at her. The girl, who I thought was a friend. Whom I thought would never judge me – Are you happy now? You know this too. Does it make you a better person? Do you think you can use this against me?

- I… - she opens her mouth, but this time I’m the one who cuts her off.

- I hope you are finally satisfied. But for your information, private life is called private for a reason. And if you don’t want to cause any trouble for yourself in the future, I suggest you to stay out of other people’s business. Not everyone is as nice as I am – I say to her with ice cold voice and leave the room in a rush.

I’m literally running all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. My tears blur my vision, and I almost fall a couple of times, but all I want is to be as far from Hermione as I can. My knees give up, and they can no longer hold me on my feet. I collapse to the ground and let myself cry. My father was indeed a Death Eater, but he was a good man. He never meant to hurt anyone, he just made all the wrong choices, along with my brother. They loved their family endlessly, and would have done everything to protect Mom and me. And they did. That’s why they were both locked up at Azkaban for years. Than the Ministry made their decision about Dad, who refused to give names to the judges. So he got a Dementor Kiss. Elvin, my brother, was only sentenced to spend the rest of his life at Azkaban.

I hear footsteps from behind me, but I refuse to turn around. I don’t want to face anyone now, I just want to be alone with my shame, grief and thoughts.

- I don’t care who you are, but I don’t want to speak, nor I want company – my voice is filled with sorrow, and the cold November weather makes me shiver. I just started to feel cold. I must have been too angry to feel anything but the fire burning inside of me which wanted to hex Hermione for being so nosy.

- The Towers tends to be quite cold around this time of the year – I’m shocked by the voice. I thought Hermione ran after me to finish her story about my own damn life, or if it wasn’t her, I thought it was going to be Harry or Ron coming after me, to make sure I’m okay, and to ask me if she was right about all those things she had said in the Great Hall. But for my surprise, it was no other, than the Prince of Slytherin, who had been watching me for the last couple of weeks, and who couldn’t look away from my face during Hermione’s “attack”.

- Here you go – he says softly as he wraps his Slytherin robe on my shoulders. I look up at him, just to see his facial expressions. All I can see is sympathy and kindness on his every cold and emotionless face. His pale skin looks like it’s glowing in the moonlight, and his eyes are sparkling just like the stars on the jet black night sky – I come here often. When I want to be alone and need to think or just let out everything that I’ve been hiding in my mind.

I follow his movements, as he sits down beside me. So close our arms are brushing to each other, a sudden warm feeling going through my whole body. Draco was a jerk. He was full of himself, and lived for terrorizing everyone who wasn’t a Slytherin or a pureblood witch or wizard. Somehow, he never had anything bad to say to me; he never called me Gryffindork, or any other insulting names. But at the same time, he never really talked to me – only when we were paired to work together for essays or at Potions class a couple of times.

- You knew, didn’t you? – I ask him after a rather long silence – That’s why you left me alone, not calling me names and picking on me. You knew who I was, and who my parents were…and that’s why you were around me these couple of days. You knew she was going to figure out, right?

He only answers with a small nod. He doesn’t look at me. I turn my gaze away from his side profile, and stare at the sky. We sit there is silence, the only noise our slow breathing, and the sound of the wind dancing through the columns of the Tower. Out of nowhere, Draco grabs my hand, and holds it in his. His thumb is drawing little circles on my wrist and my quite sobs start to calm down and fade.

- I’m not them – I sigh – I’m not my parents or my brother. I would never be a Death Eater. I wouldn’t be able to kill someone, even if they deserved to die. My father and Elvin never killed anyone. They were only…

- Shhh – Draco pulls me closer and lets me to rest my head on his shoulder – You don’t have to explain anything to me. I know how hard your life must have been. And it still is. To be honest, it’s never gonna change. You can only learn to live with this, keep it as a secret and pretend it won’t affect your future – he plays with my fingers, and I know, this time, he’s not referring to me only, but to himself and his future as well – But the truth, it will. We just have to be strong and smart enough, to bare it.

- I don’t know if I can do this alone – I whisper, a single tear rolling down my cheek, dropping on Draco’s hand. He turns to me, and places his free hand on my cheek. I watch his light pink lip running along his bottom lip, his lips curving into a small, but genuine smile.

- Who said you have to do it alone? – he asks me – I’m pretty good at keeping dirty little secrets.

- I bet you have tones of those – I finally laugh a bit. At the sound of my laughter, his smile grows wider, and a cheeky little fame appears in his almost grey eyes.

- Oh, trust me darling, I do – he laughs as well – One of them being having a crush on you…

From that night, Draco did everything in his power to protect me, and I did the same with him. It took me a while, to be comfortable again inside the walls of Hogwarts. I lost a few friends, but at the same time, I gained a few more. People, who were on my side, no matter what. After summer break, Hermione and I apologised to each other. She finally accepting that fact that she might be way too nosy, and wanted to grow as a person, and learn to stay out of other people’s business for her own good. And I told her everything about my family, friends, childhood, fears and dreams. Of course we had a fight about me dating Draco, but when I explained her, that he would never ever hurt me, she finally accepted him at our and in the Gryffindor’s common room as well. As for Draco, it took me a couple of months to get used to the idea, that that arrogant asshole really had a soft side and he loved to show it to me. We never told the whole school that we were, in fact, a couple. Some people knew, some had no clue. We loved the idea of being each other’s dirty little secret.

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta'd by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Eight The Wedding Reception

Ginny did not hear much of Bill and Fleur’s vows. The ceremony was lovely, really, and Fleur looked stunning, of course. Her beauty was so radiant that it made Bill, with his scars and all, more handsome just for standing beside her. Fleur was dressed in a silvery white gown and Ginny and Gabrielle in gold, and there were Flutterby bushes and golden balloons — all of it was absolutely wonderful, but by the time Bill and Fleur exchanged their first married kiss, all Ginny could think of was how much she would like to sit down.

Despite the painful pressure on her toes, she stood beside Gabrielle and Charlie as the wedding guests came to offer their congratulations and a photographer snapped shots of the wedding party. Charlie ran a hand through his short hair, probably missing all of the inches Molly had cut off last night just as much as Ginny was missing her trainers. Gabrielle fidgeted discreetly with the small bouquet, better poised than Ginny but probably just as eager to be done standing in front of a crowd.

Still, Ginny smiled as a dozen Weasley relatives paraded by and wished Bill and Fleur well. There were half as many Delacours, all with the grace and charm that Fleur, her mother, and sister shared, and all clearly descended from the same Veela grandmother.

Hagrid and Madame Maxime came to give their well-wishes, too. Hagrid wiped tears from his eyes after greeting the happy couple, and he stopped to shake Charlie’s hand.

“How’s Norbert?” he asked.

Charlie grinned. “She’s Norberta, and she’s vicious. She’s doing just fine on her own.”

Madame Maxime said something in French to Gabrielle, and Ginny tried not to look bored as she scanned the line of well-wishers. Xenophilius Lovegood’s bright yellow robes stood out like the first bloom after a frost. She did not see Luna nearby, but she did see the Potters, the Lupins, and the Longbottoms clustered together — with Sirius Black, of course.

She met Harry's eyes and straightened her posture. She thoroughly enjoyed the way his ears darkened as he looked at her. Great-Aunt Muriel may have complained about the cut of Ginny’s dress, but Ginny had no complaints, and she didn’t think Harry did either.

Her dad had suggested that the Potters disguise themselves for the wedding, but in the end, the Potters had decided that it wasn’t necessary. It would be obvious who they really were unless they distanced their false appearances from everyone they knew, and in that case, Lily had pointed out, why attend a wedding at all. Ginny was glad for it, because it meant she could kiss Harry openly.

“You look stunning,” he said, as his parents congratulated Bill and Fleur.

She grinned, and for a moment, forgot about her shoes. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

Harry looked down at his robes. Apart from his new watch chain, they were the same robes that he had worn to Dumbledore’s funeral, but she hadn’t said anything about them then. It hadn’t seemed right, even though she had thought it. Harry cleaned up well, and she liked that his hair never flattened properly. It made him look roguish and rebellious, qualities she had always appreciated in her heroes.

“Oh, ‘arry,” Fleur interrupted, turning from James and Lily for a moment, “Papa ‘as inseested zat we take a photo with all of ze Champions. I will find you after ze dance, oui?”

“Er — sure.”

Ginny squeezed Harry’s hands. “Could you save me a seat? I think the line’s almost done with.”

“You don’t want to dance?”

“I would like nothing more than to sit down and kick off these shoes for a minute, please.”

“Alright, then.�� He glanced nervously at his parents, but when he saw they were turned away to say something to the Longbottoms, he kissed her.

Ginny, who had done everything she could to abandon shyness, could not help but find Harry’s embarrassment cute. Perhaps it was foolish of her to think she liked everything about Harry, and maybe someday she would grow annoyed with his modesty around his parents, but right now, she loved everything — well, almost everything.

She had to admit, she was not fond of this dangerous quest business. Though she had always admired Harry for his bravery and his commitment to doing the right thing, she wished that didn’t come with a year of separation for them. It was hard not to feel abandoned, even though she knew that wasn’t the truth of the matter at all.

At least she knew that the mirror was tucked safely in her trunk. She did feel some guilt about having taken it from James and Lily — but not enough to return it.

And anyway, she did not truly believe that Harry would be separated from them all together. James, Lily, and Sirius would not let Harry be on his own for long. They didn’t need the mirror, not as much as she did.

At least, that was what she told herself, and what she had told Hermione when Hermione had asked her if this was the right choice.

The band began to play the song for Bill and Fleur’s first dance, and Ginny slipped away as quickly as she could without seeming anxious to get away. She found Harry seated at a table with Luna, Neville, Ron, and Hermione, and she gratefully sank into the open seat next to Harry.

“You look lovely, Ginny,” Luna said with a smile.

Ginny smiled and reached down to undo the strap of her heel. “You do too, Luna.”

Luna smiled. Her robes were as brightly colored as her father’s, and while they stood out, they suited Luna.

“I told Daddy everyone would be in dress robes,” she said, “but he believes you ought to wear sun colours to a wedding, for luck, you know.”

Ginny looked down at her gold dress. “Close enough.”

The tent was filled with applause as the song ended. The band followed up with another slow waltz; Ginny’s father took Mrs. Delacour’s hand, and Mr. Delacour took her mother’s. Slowly, the dance floor filled with couples.

“Oh, I love this song,” Luna said dreamily, and stood.

“Er — could I join you?” Neville asked, his cheeks bright pink.

Luna beamed.

Ron pursed his lips as Luna twirled in a circle and pulled Neville into the spin with her. He stumbled over his own feet, but successfully avoided a full sprawl into the floor.

“I suppose that fits alright,” Ron said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny asked, not caring to shield the acid in her voice.

“Er — you know. They’re just… er — Hermione, care for a dance?”

Hermione looked pleased to be asked, and readily took Ron’s hand.

Ginny frowned as Ron disappeared into the crowd. She felt particularly protective of Luna and Neville, having briefly dated each of them — or at least, she had gone on a date with each of them. Though neither outing had formed into a lasting relationship, she cared very much for the two of them, and did not think it fair of Ron to disparage them in any way.

Next to her, Harry stifled a yawn, and Ginny leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Not sleeping well without me?” she teased.

He hummed thoughtfully, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He did not answer her question, though.

Harry had a habit of getting lost in his own head. She had first noticed it during their shared summer in Grimmauld Place. His vacant expression would appear towards the end of meals, or sometimes in the middle of cleaning. Hermione had speculated that it might be the side-effect of a dementor attack, but Ginny knew better, because Ginny still got lost in her own mind from time to time. Sometimes, it was just too easy to walk the paths of dark memories. She didn’t know why her mind veered towards dangerous corridors habitually, like a familiar road home, but she worked very hard to tread new paths, to forge brighter places to walk. She wanted Harry to forge those new paths, too.

“Harry?” Ginny asked. “You still in there?”

“Er — sorry. Just… Do you know someone named Gregorovitch?”

Ginny frowned and racked her brain for the name. She came up blank. “You don’t mean Gorgovitch? From the Chudley Cannons?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were still distant, still wandering “No. I don’t think so. But maybe it does have something to do with Quidditch…”

“Where did you hear it?”

“In a dream.”

Ginny shook her head. “Well, I can’t think of any Quidditch players named Gregorovitch. At least not in Britain.” She was about to suggest Harry ask Ron, though she doubted Ron would have any better ideas, when she saw Viktor Krum standing near the dance floor, with a drink in his hand, chatting with Cedric Diggory.

“You could ask Krum,” she suggested. “He probably knows the names of loads more international players than I do.”

Harry’s brow creased. “Krum… — Oh, no. Fleur’s found them.”

“She’s waving you over.” Ginny slid her shoes back on and regretted it instantly. Her feet throbbed before she had even finished fastening the straps.

“I don’t want to pose for anymore Triwizard Champions photos.”

“Don’t worry; there won’t be another until they trot you all out in a hundred years to revive the competition, when you’re all withered and grey. Take this one. It’s the last one you’ll look good in.”

Harry laughed, and Ginny smiled, despite her feet. She took his hand as they left their seats.

“Venez vite!” Fleur said, waving her hand. Even as hurried as she was, she made the wave look graceful.

Harry picked up his pace with a strained smile. Ginny lagged behind, afraid to tumble in her tight, tall shoes.

She wondered how much more of this there would be if Harry survived the war, how many more photographs Harry would be dragged into. He was The Chosen One, the saviour of the Wizarding World, and five years from now, ten years from now… How would she fit into all of that?

Ginny hastily banished the thought. She didn’t like to think that far into the future. It was full of too much uncertainty. If Harry survived. If Ron survived. If Hermione survived. If her parents survived, her brothers —

For now, she was just happy to have today.

“They really do make quite the intimidating set,” a young man beside Ginny said.

She frowned up at the vaguely familiar face, tried to place the pale blonde hair and green eyes. He was graceful enough to be a cousin of Fleur’s but something nagged in her that she had seen him at Hogwarts before.

He carried two drinks, but he did not offer one to her. When he realised she was staring, he raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t remember me? That’s alright. You were about waist-high last time we met. I’m Christian Thelborne. I’d shake your hand, but —” He held up the two goblets apologetically.

His name slid into Ginny’s memory like a nail splintering wood. He was a former Gryffindor prefect, and during her first year at Hogwarts, he had caught her out of bed after hours. He had walked her back to Gryffindor Tower and had promised not to mention a word of their encounter to Percy. Ginny didn’t remember much about that night, except that she had been stressed to the point of tears, and Percy scolding her had been just a tiny part of that stress.

“Sorry,” she said, and tried to focus on the balloons that drifted behind Christian’s head, rather than recalling that dark Hogwarts corridor. “I don’t remember much of my first year.”

“I try not to remember mine, either,” he said with a grimace. “Fell flat on my face in my first flying lesson. Put me off Quidditch forever.”

Ginny laughed politely, grateful for the shift in conversation. Her gratitude, however, did not last long.

“Percy says you’re a fair flyer yourself.”

“More than fair,” she said, perhaps a bit more heatedly than Christian deserved, but not nearly as much as Percy deserved.

“Shame he isn’t here. I was looking forward to slipping a Cockroach Cluster into his drink for old times’ sake.”

“I’m sure he’s working,” she snapped, and wished desperately for Christian to stop talking.

“Scrimgeour gave him the day off, actually. I’m not sure that makes it any better, knowing he had a choice.”

Ginny bit down on her tongue to refrain from making any further disparaging comments, and to simply end the conversation. She had spent the hour before the ceremony consoling her mother, who had tearfully suggested they should delay another ten minutes, twenty minutes, that perhaps he was running late, perhaps he had gotten stuck or splinched. She would not add to her mother’s grief by letting her know that Scrimgeour had given Percy leave to attend today, and Percy had still refused it.

Her silence, apparently, communicated all of that better than her acrid tone had.

“I’m sorry,” Christian said. “He and I were good friends once upon a time. I just thought — ah, it looks like our boys have finished with the spotlight for now.”

Fleur kissed each of her fellow Champions on the cheek and flitted off to greet other guests. Ginny hoped that Fleur would pause for a moment to eat or enjoy Bill’s company, but she doubted a bride was afforded that sort of privilege on her wedding day. Ginny privately vowed that whenever that day came for her, she would only have close friends nearby, and it would be nothing more ostentatious than a Quidditch Cup victory celebration.

The only trick to it would be making sure her mother didn’t catch wind of the wedding until it was about to begin.

Now that the photographs had concluded, Ginny and Christian rejoined the group of Champions. Ginny wrapped her arm around Harry’s, and thought he looked just as relieved to be done with photographs as she was to be free of her uncomfortable conversation with Christian. Christian handed one of his glasses to Cedric.

“Thanks,” Cedric said, and took a sip of the drink “Harry, I don’t know if you’ve met Christian Thelborne —”

“I’m surprised we haven’t met yet,” Christian said, and shook Harry’s hand. “I was a prefect for Gryffindor your first few years at Hogwarts. Your mother was one of my favourite professors.”

“Er — sorry I don’t remember you,” Harry said.

“You had a lot going on those first few years. And every year thereafter, from what Cedric’s said.”

“I think we all had a lot going on,” Cedric said. “They ought to change the school motto to ‘never an uneventful year.’”

“Not a bad idea. My first year, a curse had people Sleepwalking into the Forbidden Forest,” Christian said, with a laugh that didn’t match his words. “Had all of us firsties terrified to go to bed at night.”

Krum frowned. “That sounds horrible.”

“A student was killed in my first year,” Cedric said, staring thoughtfully into his glass. “I didn’t know them but it certainly… set a tone.”

Ginny had only been eight years old that year, but she remembered when Charlie had come home from Hogwarts. He hadn’t been the same Charlie that hed left. Sure, he would still coax gnomes out of their garden with treats and still fall asleep in the chicken coop, but he had quit Quidditch and spent more time on his own than playing with her that summer.

Tragedy changed people. It had changed her, it had changed Harry — and her gut twisted as she considered that tragedy was far from over for all of them.

Ginny swallowed and pushed down her fears. In search of a lighter topic of conversation, she asked, “Krum, how are the playoffs shaping up?”

“Senegal looks very good this year,” Krum said quickly, clearly grateful for the lifeline. “Ve vere supposed to play Ireland last week but Ryan did not show and they had to forfeit. It vas not the satisfying rematch I had hoped for.”

“Didn’t I read that you’re practically qualified for the Cup already?” Cedric asked.

“Perhaps. Ve are doing vell in our group, but I do not think ve vill get very far in the playoffs.” Krum shrugged, but Ginny could see the disappointment in his dark eyes. “Vat about you, Cedric, and you, Harry? Vill either of you be going out for a team for the next Cup?”

“I don’t think I’m quite good enough,” Harry admitted. “Maybe in a few years — I mean, I’ve only really won the school championship one time. Every other time, well, it was mostly Ginny. Maybe you’ll be playing against her in a few years.”

“Perhaps I vill.” Krum said. “If she is as good a flyer as you vere vith that dragon, she vill have no trouble finding a team.”

“She’s much better,” Harry promised.

Ginny could not contain her smile. “I’ll see you at the oh-two cup, certainly.”

“I am counting on it,” Krum said with a small nod and a faint smile, something Ginny did not think he showed very often.

Krum’s smile, however, was brief. It turned into a rather dark scowl at something over Ginny’s shoulder. “Who is that?” he asked, voice low. “And vat is he vearing?”

Ginny glanced behind her, unsure what had Krum so angry. She squinted at the crowd of guests, most seated and talking or filling the dance floor. No one stood out as particularly offensive, except perhaps the Lovegoods’ bright yellow robes.

“D’you mean Xenophilius Lovegood?” Harry asked. “I think yellow robes are supposed to be lucky at a wedding, or something.”

“No,” Krum said. “I do not mean his robes. I mean the symbol around his neck.”

Ginny had to squint to see the silver charm dangling from the chain around Xenophilius’ neck. She hadn’t noticed it when he had greeted the wedding party, but she had been preoccupied by everything else he was wearing. She didn’t recognise the strange triangle enclosing a round eye, but surely it was just another Lovegood eccentricity.

Christian, though, made a noise of disgust that matched Krum’s scowl. “I can’t imagine someone would be comfortable sporting Grindelwald’s symbol like that, and in this crowd no less.”

“Grindelwald?” Ginny frowned. “The Dark wizard?”

“It does have a history beyond Grindelwald,” Christian said, “but that doesn’t really matter. I remember assigning a mouthy Ravenclaw a week of detention for etching it into one of his textbooks.”

“There vere always supporters of Grindelvald at Durmstrang, even after his imprisonment in Nurmengard, and those of us who had lost family to Grindelvald vere alvays happy to put them in their place.”

Harry stared at Krum. “I didn’t know…”

“Vy vould you? My grandfather was just one of many that he killed. Grindelvald vas never as poverful in this country. You do not learn his history apart from Dumbledore defeating him.”

“I was taught plenty, but my great-grandfather died fighting Grindelwald.” Christian took another sip of his drink. “I’m named after him.”

Harry looked surprised. “Er — me too. My great-grandfather fought Grindelwald, and that’s why my parents named me after him.”

Christian raised his eyebrows. “An honour we get to share in, then. May we each do them proud.”

Cedric, in a very small and easy to miss gesture, reached for Christian’s hand and squeezed it. Christian did not react, but Ginny wondered how many conversations they must have had about Grindelwald, and about Voldemort.

“Ve vill all do our part,” Krum said, and pulled out his wand to Refill his glass.

Harry stiffened, suddenly, and blurted out, “Gregorovitch!”

Krum frowned. “Yes?”

“Er — nothing. Nevermind. Sorry. I just remembered your wand wasn’t made by Ollivander, that’s all.”

“Is that important?”

“I just — er — was trying to remember — I thought —”

Ginny had always found Harry to be a terrible liar, but he was floundering spectacularly in this moment. She decided to lend him a hand.

“His mum lost her wand in a duel,” Ginny supplied. “With Ollivander still missing, we weren't sure where she might get a replacement.”

Krum nodded. “I haff heard of Ollivander’s disappearance. But I am afraid Gregorovitch cannot help your mother. He retired years ago. I vos one of the last to purchase a vand from him.”

“Lily Potter doesn’t have a wand?” Christian asked with a slight frown.

“When Yaxley blew up my parents’ home,” Cedric said, “he nearly took Lily with it.”

“You didn’t mention that she was there.”

Cedric shrugged. “I didn't think it mattered.”

But Cedric did not meet Christian’s eyes, and Christian stared at him with a frown that Ginny was unfortunately familiar with. She had too much experience with half-spoken fights and half-hidden secrets in relationships. Though she knew that Cedric and Christian would have to discuss this, perhaps a wedding was not the best place for it.

“How is staying with Mad-Eye?” she asked Cedric. “I imagine coming home must require thirteen passwords and seven incantations.”

Cedric gave her a smile, full of relief and humour in equal measure. “You're half-right. I had never loved my job more than the days when coming home meant facing an Azkaban-level interrogation. It's nice to be shot of that, finally.”

Harry frowned. “Have your parents fixed your house already?”

“Well, Christian’s lease was up, and he and Anne wanted a bigger space, so he asked —”

“Begged,” Christian corrected with a smile.

“Fine, Christian begged me to move in with him.”

“It took weeks of convincing. While I would love to see Yaxley in Azkaban, I can't help but think if he hadn’t forced you to live with Mad-Eye, you never would have agreed.”

“When are you moving in?” Harry asked.

Ginny frowned at Harry, and tried to understand why there was anger in his question. Christian, despite his inane need to bring up her estranged brother and his distaste for Quidditch, seemed pleasant enough. Why shouldn't Harry be happy that Cedric had an easy escape from Mad-Eye’s house?

“This morning,” Cedric said. “We’ve got a good deal of unpacking to do tonight.” He turned to Krum. “Do you have a match tomorrow? If not, come over and help. Anne’s promised to have some bottles ready to break the place in.”

Ginny laced her fingers into Harry’s suddenly tight fist. She did not understand his frustration, but she knew it would be best to get them both away to talk about it.

“Harry,” she said, “I’m afraid my feet are killing me. Can we sit down?”

Once they had made their polite exit and were well away from Christian, Cedric, and Krum, Ginny asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. He pulled out a seat for her at an empty table, but she did not take it.

“Harry James Potter, don't you lie to me after I gave you a lovely out from a conversation that upset you.”

He grimaced and she thought she ought to use his full name more often.

“It's just —” He ran his hand through his hair. “I thought Cedric was leaving with me, that's all. But it certainly sounded like he was making plans for the opposite.”

Ginny, glad that Harry had given her the honest answer, took a seat. “It could be a cover.”

“Then why only agree to move in with Christian after Yaxley’s attack?” he asked, and practically fell into the seat beside her. “That was less than a week ago, and we had just talked about…” Harry glanced around, but there did not appear to be anyone listening. He leaned closer to Ginny and lowered his voice all the same. “Hermione and Ron put all this effort into disappearing without getting caught. But Cedric’s making more commitments, and even long-term plans. It doesn't sound like he’s thinking about hunting… you-know-whats. I just wish he had told me that he had changed his mind, I guess.”

Ginny frowned. Cedric was not the sort who backed away from a fight. He might take a while to get there, but he showed up. He had supported Harry in the interview with Rita Skeeter, and had even taken what he could of Umbridge’s abuse in order to shield Harry. He had insisted on following Harry into the Department of Mysteries, even when Regulus had advised against it. She did not think Cedric would abandon Harry now, not when they were so close to finishing this.

“I’m sure Cedric knows what he’s doing,” she finally said.

“I don't know how I would do this without him.”

Ginny squeezed his hand. She, too, did not know what she would do if Ron, Hermione, and Harry had to strike out on their own. Knowing that Cedric and Regulus were involved in this quest gave her some peace of mind. Yes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were of age now but it wasn’t the same as Cedric, who was nearly a full-fledged Auror, or Regulus, who had fought in the first war, albeit on the wrong side.

“Why are you dreaming about a foreign wandmaker?” she asked, and grabbed a bottle of champagne that drifted past Harry’s head.

Harry watched her pour the champagne into two flutes. He did not answer right away, and she wondered if he was searching for a lie. Then he said, “I think Voldemort’s hunting him. I don’t know why. He has Ollivander…”

“You’re dreaming about Ollivander, too?”

Harry grimaced. “Sort of.”

“Is that… safe?” Ginny didn’t know much about Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape, but she did remember his parents had valued Occlumency over their hatred of Umbridge, and that said a lot.

“You mean is Ollivander safe? He isn’t.”

“I mean your dreams, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “Safe or not, I can’t exactly help it. Not unless —” He ducked his head, and looked away. She thought for a moment he wasn’t going to finish his thought and she was going to have to push him again, but he mumbled, “not unless you want to sleep next to me every night.”

She was certain that she had misheard him. “What?”

“I don’t… I don’t dream about Voldemort when I’m with you. Not that I don’t have dreams — and not that I don’t have bad dreams — but it’s different.”

Her face flushed and her stomach filled with Flitterby bushes. “Oh —”

“Ginny!” A pair of heavy hands planted itself on her shoulders. She jumped and spilled her champagne onto the table. “What’s a young thing like you doing sitting down at an event like this? You should be out on the dance floor!”

Ginny, though she was startled and a bit annoyed to have been interrupted, smiled up at her uncle. Uncle Gideon was her favourite uncle, after all. She could forgive him this intrusion.

“In these shoes?” she said. “My feet are pressed tighter than a goat caught in a dragon’s maw.”

Gideon laughed as he fell into the seat next to her. His large belly jostled the table, again knocking over the glass she had just righted, and his lankier brother, Fabian, leaned against it to steady it as he also took a seat.

“Why aren’t you two out on the dance floor?” she shot back and refilled her glass.

Fabian shrugged as he reached into his coat and pulled out a pipe. “No one’s interested in a man with only one hand for caressing.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Sorry that I asked.”

But she grinned as she said it. She’d always liked Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon’s sense of humour. She didn’t know how they’d been raised by the same parents as her over-worried and controlling mother, but they’d gained a special place in Ginny’s heart when they had gifted her her first broom for her fifth birthday.

Gideon used his wand to light Fabian’s pipe, then stuffed his own. “So, Potter, Molly tells us you plan to be off and running soon.”

“Er — yeah, something like that.”

“Molly asked us to talk Ron out of it,” Fabian murmured. He took a long, slow draw on his pipe. “Don’t think we stand much chance of that, and less chance of talking you out of it.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Harry said. “And Ron’s welcome to make his own decision.”

Ginny reached under the table for Harry’s hand. She did not know if Fabian or Gideon heard the sting in Harry’s voice, but after hearing his concerns about Cedric, it was obvious to her that even the question of Ron leaving hurt.

Gideon shook his head. “No need to draw wands about it. Secrets are part and parcel for the Order — and for Dumbledore.”

“But,” Fabian added in a low voice, “secrets have consequences. Are you prepared for that, Harry?”

“Of course I am,” Harry said quickly. “I’ve faced Voldemort before.”

Gideon lit his pipe. “Our advice is to know when to back down, when to cut and run — and when to ask for help.”

“It’s better,” Fabian added, “to fight another day than to never fight again, even if it means coming home missing a piece or two.”

“I have help,” Harry said. “Regulus knows what we have to do.”

This did not bring Ginny’s uncles any comfort.

Gideon frowned. “I remember bringing Black in. Escorted him and his friends in and out of Azkaban for their trial, too.”

“Didn’t trust anyone else,” Fabian added. “Though I always thought it would be the Lestranges who pulled something first.”

“You never suspected that Barty Crouch would escape?” Ginny asked.

“Not for a minute,” Gideon grunted. “Thought the kid would die in there, and wasn’t surprised when that was the news that came out a few weeks later. Apparently Black’s the one we should have watched out for. Though I can’t say I expected him to live very long, either. There wasn’t much left of him when we found him.”

“No,” Fabian agreed quietly, “not much of him at all. The trial nearly did him in, too.” He stared at the crowd of dancers thoughtfully. “I had always had the idea that he and Barty were dueling when we found them, though I could never decide over what. And Black never said anything to suggest that he hadn’t been at that house with Barty and the Lestranges.”

“Dumbledore said that Regulus betrayed Voldemort, and wanted to keep his betrayal a secret,” Harry said. “Maybe he was more afraid of Voldemort than of Azkaban.”

“But by then, Voldemort was long dead,” Gideon grunted. “If he wanted to be on our side, he had plenty of chances to offer it. Even when we met him after Voldemort’s return, Dumbledore only ever told us that Black was willing to offer information to the Order, but we weren’t to trust him any further than that. I saw the appeal of having an informant, but it always felt a bit like keeping a snake in the cradle.”

“I suppose the snake was Snape all along,” Fabian said. His gaze and voice were still distant, as if he had forgotten he was participating in the conversation.

Harry tensed beside Ginny and she squeezed his hand again. She had never liked Snape either, but his complete betrayal had shocked her, too. It must have been so much worse for Harry, who had believed that Snape loved Lily. It must have been so much worse for the Potters, to know that it was Snape who had shared the prophecy with Voldemort in the first place.

“It feels like we always should have known,” Gideon said. “But that’s what everyone said about Pettigrew, too.”

“What did people say about Peter?” Harry asked quickly.

Gideon shrugged. “That he was quiet, bumbling, and easily persuaded. That it was obvious he was the mole.”

“But,” Fabian’s attention returned to the table, “everyone said the same of Sirius that first week after the attack on the Potters. That he was a Black, that he had always hated Lily, that it was obvious he would betray the Potters. People changed their tune quickly after they learned that Pettigrew was responsible.”

Ginny frowned. “Are you saying it’s never obvious?”

“Nothing is in war,” Gideon said. “All we do is built on lies and secrets. It comes with the job.”

“No one knew that better than Dumbledore,” Fabian said. “I expect that’s why no one ever knew him very well.”

“Doge knew him alright,” Gideon said. “Better than the rest of us, anyway.”

“Even better than Aberforth, I’d wager.”

“Who’s Aberforth?” Ginny asked.

“Dumbledore’s brother,” Fabian said. “Younger, I think.”

Harry frowned. “I think I saw a photograph of him once. Isn’t he in the Order?”

Gideon shrugged. “He feeds us information from time to time.”

“Was he at Dumbledore’s funeral?” Ginny asked.

Fabian and Gideon frowned at each other, as if each expected the other to know.

“I don’t recall,” Fabian finally said.

Ginny considered her own absent brother. If Greyback had killed Bill back in June, and her family had gathered for a funeral instead of a wedding, would Percy have attended?

“I wonder what they fought over,” she murmured.

“Doge wrote in his obituary that they never quite recovered after their sister died,” Gideon said. “They had a rather public fight over her grave in Godric’s Hollow. I expect something as tragic as that could very easily tear a family apart.”

“Godric’s Hollow?” Harry asked. “She’s buried there?”

“It’s where Dumbledore spent most of his youth,” Fabian said. “At least, when he wasn’t at Hogwarts.”

Harry frowned. “I never knew…”

“Most of us didn’t,” said Fabian. “Like Gideon said — lies and secrets come with what we do.”

“But Dumbledore hasn’t always led the Order,” Harry said. “Even before —”

“Even before the Order there was Grindelwald,” Gideon said. “The Wizarding World has looked to Dumbledore as a leader and defender for forty years. A man like that doesn’t get to be a man, not even to his friends.”

“He’s simply a legend,” Fabian said. “A fate I pray none of us have to live with, especially you, Harry.”

Harry fingered the stem of his champagne glass with a brooding face. Ginny searched for something to say to pull him out of his head again.

“Harry,” she tried for a bright voice, “how about that dance?”

He blinked at her. “Er — are you sure —”

She was already on her feet and pulling him out of his chair. “Come on, I really like this song.”

Harry did not look convinced, but he followed her all the same, and they both made hasty goodbyes to her uncles.

“I was getting a bit tired of all of that anyway,” she said as she led him to the dance floor.

“I thought it was interesting.”

“Talking about dying?”

“Talking about Dumbledore. I don’t know, I think if I knew him better, maybe I’d understand what he wanted me to do next.”

As they reached the crowd of dancers, Ginny put Harry’s hands on her waist. “Doge is supposed to be here somewhere,” she said. “Do you want to ask him?”

His hands pressed against her dress of their own accord and he pulled her a little closer. “No, I do want to dance. Maybe after —”

But there would be no after. A silver streak of light passed through the party and came to a halt in the center of the dance floor. It took the form of a lynx, glittering like a star against the backdrop of golden lights strung up in the tent.

The music stopped abruptly, and through the silence, Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice boomed, “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

[writtenfrommybody]

There are no stages to grief

There is this sadness in me, that creeps up on me like death creeps up on the youth that feel too young to die, forgetful that their death lurks in the shadows. This sadness is an abyss that I have put a long sheet of fake moss around and a garden with roses that have no thorns, when I forget that it is all plastic and walk towards it I fall. There is this long lost bridge in my mind between the past and the present, with a gate that blocks my future and I feel like it is a vault that is shut and I can never open it. I am so full of this heart-wrenching grief and there are no stages to it, it is just endless. There is this crumbling pain in my gaping heart and it is like I was born with a hole in it that never seals, blood spurts out and spills onto my stomach where my intuition has been scarred and the tissue is revoltingly fleshy gutted pink. There is this blinding horror in my soul and I wonder if God breathed into me too much, or held his divine breath and skipped my vessel and left me in this mouth wide open silent screaming mess. There is this raging manic senseless demon that lies between the layers of my skin and I can feel it boiling me like I am a cauldron and it is creating a recipe for disaster and I wonder when it is done how I will reverse the spell of my anger and if I will ever be able to cool down once I burn wild. There is this perplexing vividness in my memory, and it feels like every moment I have ever lived is not flashing before my eyes, but playing in slow motion. I swear to you If you asked me what I ate for breakfast I would not have a clue, but if you told me what was the first kiss with a fist like I will break down each component of my meal of malice like I am a food scientist. Nothing is like that mild sorrow, I wish it was hot. Maybe my tears would scald my cheeks and make me feel slightly human. Instead, it is this after taste in my mouth, it takes a few swallows to recognise that it is there and once I do even if I wash my mouth out with gasoline it will still be itching in the back of my throat. The last of the lot is the loneliness, it accompanies me everywhere and holds my hand so tight I can feel my fingers break one by one. As I whimper at its debilitating grip it kisses my lips and sucks all the peace inside of me and it is like I have made out with a dementor and there is no turning back. Despite this I feel the warmest love envelop me, I can’t help it I promise even when I break I'm thinking about how sweet it is to be touched. I can’t ever love a little less, there is only more of it inside of me… This is what I feel the most. My sadness Is love, my pain Is love, my grief is love, my rage is love, my memory is love, my sorrow is love, my loneliness is love, my time is love. I swear to you I promise you I can not ever see beyond this love in me. So long as I am intoxicated by this wonderous love no sadness can take me, perhaps it could shake me and beat me it may even crush me into a million pieces. Those pieces will be scattered on the floor, crushed under boots and left until they look like stardust and soak the soil of my life until I grow into a grapevine and I am wine at the lips of a lover and I will come full circle again, being dismantled but never owned. I choose this dignified agony over the sweet ease that will strip me of my honour. I find no fear in being wounded, leave me open and gaping I will call the wolves with my tongue and howl and watch them eat from my flesh and I will break my rib and feed it to them like I am adam himself and I will not shut my eyes nor will I plead! I will watch with eyes wide open as they tear into me! I will embrace my crime scene of a life and I will always ALWAYS live in love! Even if it is constantly fleeting. Consistent fleeting love means I get to trip over my feet and have an entire farm of butterflies that were made by lovers I could never touch nor meet! God look at me in all my forsaken glory! You are everything I have and everything I do not deserve! But it is only you who will ever hold me. And this Is why I am so warm, even if I live in the middle of the ice. I am never frozen cold. I do burn through, I burn ferociously! That is why in heaven I want a bonfire I can dance under! You could not take my flame because you are the one who put candlelight in my chest! You are the one who made me so sparky! Tick tock tick tock my brain it works and gears and is wired like an electric fence! Yet I do not kill the hands who touch me! I do not kill the people who have slaughtered my spirit! I put myself on a spit and I tell them, I hope you are satiated at the taste of my resilient flesh! I can never be tamed I wish I could but I cannot. I find myself feeling contentment at my savageness, I am hunter hungry yet monk mellow. Paradoxical being I am, yet incredibly simplistic. I am all the shades of grey and I make each shade look like it is a daring magenta. Put the mountain on my shoulders, I will let a village of people live alongside my backbone and I promise you it may bend and break, but I will never be swayed nor broken.

[writer-dreams]

Polyjuice Potion (End) (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Hiii! This is the final part of Polyjuice Potion!

Part 1 / Part 2

House: Slytherin

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Angst? Possible swearing. A bit of an abusive relationship but its only a slap. A little bit of putting yourself down.

Note: There's a lot of switching POVs in this story. I hope its not too confusing.

Word Count: 3,595 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV

(Y/n) slowly walked down the halls, exhausted after a whole day’s worth of studying. She could barely keep her eyes open and she felt as though she would pass out at any moment. The sky outside was dark and blank, it seemed that the stars were afraid to come out tonight. She continued trudging her way to the Slytherin Common Room, wanting nothing more than to lay down on the soft mattress of her bed, with her boyfriend’s arms wrapped around her. Speaking of Draco, she wondered where he would be at this time. He was probably waiting for her again, waiting to complain to her about how much time she spent studying instead of being with him. (Y/n) smiled at the thought of her boyfriend, her friends may have hated him but they didn’t see what he was like when the two were alone.

She finally arrived at the Common Room, where she saw Draco sitting on one of the couches, watching the fireplace die out, its embers glowing softly. She grinned at the platinum-blonde male and decided to sneak up on him, creeping behind him before jumping out and wrapping her arms gently around his neck. She felt Draco stiffen up immediately, his whole body freezing up. Suddenly he ripped her arms off of him rather forcefully and turned around to look at her. (Y/n) looked at her boyfriend, expecting a different reaction. She had expected him to snuggle up in her arms and greet her as he usually did, not for him to aggressively remove her arms from him. Then she saw it. The tear-stained cheeks, those red, puffy eyes, those beautiful grey orbs full of hatred. He had clearly been crying, what could have happened to cause him to cry?

“D-Draco? Are you alright?” Y/n asked cautiously.

“Get your filthy hands off me, you disgusting blood-traitor!” He shouted.

“W-What?! Why are you saying this?!” Y/n could feel tears pooling in her eyes. Why had he called her something so hurtful? Why did he look at her like she was nothing but dirt under his shoe?

“Get away from me. I don’t understand how I could’ve ever loved a person like you. I regret it all. I regret us.” Draco spat.

Y/n physically took a step back, feeling the sting of his words. What had happened to the Draco she loved? What happened to the Draco who broke down all of her walls and loved the person he found behind them? What happened to the Draco who didn’t care about blood status and reputations? What had happened to her Draco? Salty tears fell from her eyes as she watched her boyfriend walk up to her slowly, raising his arms. Thinking, he was going to hug her, she closed her eyes and awaited for his arms.

“Draco….Please tell me this isn’t real. You don’t…really regret us, do you?” Y/n asked through closed eyes.

Suddenly, she heard a very audible smack sound and felt a stinging sensation on her cheek. She opened her eyes in shock to see Draco with an emotionless face and a hand raised. He had slapped her.

“It’s Malfoy to you. And yes, I regret us. I regret you. I regret ever loving you.” He said coldly, walking away, leaving a broken-hearted y/n in the common room, holding her red cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was angry, that much was obvious. He stomped down the halls, fury still raging through his blood. Y/n was an idiot. At first, he had been hurt that she had broken up with him, but then he grew angry that she had dumped him, The Slytherin Prince, for absolutely no reason. And then she shows up a few hours later and acts like they’re still together. However, through his anger, he felt a deep pit of guilt build up as he recalled Y/n’s shocked look when he had slapped her and said those horrible, horrible words. Truly, he had never meant to, he had simply acted out of anger. That didn’t stop the pit of guilt from growing, he knew it was wrong to hit her and say such spiteful insults. He knew that even though he was furious, that didn’t justify his actions. He knew he had deeply hurt her. ‘Good, now she knows how hurt I was’ his ego and pride were saying. His mind, however, kept flashing the haunting image of Y/n’s broken expression. He felt like crying, like running to her and comforting her as he used to so often. He wanted to shower her with endless apologies and compliments, he wanted to kiss her soft lips again, he wanted to hold her in her arms and offer his shoulder for her to cry on, but most of all, he wanted her love again. He sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair in frustration. Dammit, even when I’m furious with her, I still love her. I’m sorry, Y/n….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Y/n felt completely hollow. Her face was devoid of any emotion and her blank eyes stared up at the ceiling as she lay unmoving on her bed. She felt no motivation to get up and go to her classes today. She wanted to stay here, forever.

“Y/n! Get your ass up.” Pansy Parkinson screeched.

Still no movement came from the broken girl. Pansy sighed as she stared at her saddened friend.

“Y/n…I know it hurts but we need to go. You can’t just sit around on your ass all day just because of a boy.”

Nothing. Nothing moved nor was a sound made. Pansy knew her friend was going through a rough time but she didn’t want Y/n to miss out on classes.

“That’s it.” She grumbled. She wasn’t going to bother with this anymore. Y/n was stronger than that and she was going to get her moving, whether Y/n liked it or not. “Get out.” She said as she rolled Y/n off the bed. Y/n hit the floor gently before finally sighing and getting up.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go get ready.” Y/n groaned before heading into the bathroom.

The young Slytherin stepped into the girl’s washroom to get ready for the day, despite not planning to in the first place. Clearly, her friend had other ideas. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and saw a heartbroken girl on the glass. This girl had dark bags under her eyes, lifeless (e/c) eyes, and pale skin. It looked like a Dementor had given her their famous kiss, sucking out her soul from her body. The fading red bruise on her cheek was barely visible though it still ached if she touched it lightly. She shook her head in dejection and continued preparing herself for a whole day in Hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The golden trio sat down at the Gryffindor table, anxiously waiting for their Slytherin friend to enter the Mess Hall. They were still feeling extremely guilty but none of them wanted to tell Y/n what they had done in fear of how she would react. Draco Malfoy was already seated at the Slytherin table, looking…..off. For once, the Slytherin Prince didn’t have a stupid smirk on his face or his ridiculous friends surrounding him. There wasn’t even a swooning Pansy Parkinson next to him. Instead, Malfoy looked broken; a deep frown set on his face, eyes that stayed glued on the wood of the table, a hunched back. He was aimlessly drawing random circles on the table with his finger. The doors to the Mess Hall opened, revealing Pansy waving goodbye to Y/n as their friend made her way to the Gryffindor table. Y/n took a seat and the trio could see how hurt she was. Her once lively eyes were empty, there were dark bags under her eyes, and there were tear-stains on her cheeks. She looked pale and she didn’t bother saying a single word to them as she silently sat down.

“Hey Y/n.” Harry greeted.

“Hi.” She answered curtly.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione asked, though they all knew exactly what was wrong.

“No. I’m fine.” Y/n replied.

Her voice sounded so….lifeless. The trio frowned at her response but they couldn’t question her further as Dumbledore decided to start his morning speech.

After a boring speech, Dumbledore clapped his hands and food appeared on the table. Ron immediately started filling his plate with eggs, waffles and a wide assortment of other food. Slowly, Harry and Hermione also reached for the food. Harry was about to take a bite into some bacon when Hermione gently nudged him and tilted her head in Y/n’s direction. He looked up and noticed Y/n just staring blankly at her empty plate.

“Y/n….you gonna eat?” Harry asked.

“Not hungry.” She said.

“You should eat.” Hermione started putting some (f/f ((Favourite Food)) on Y/n’s plate/bowl.

Y/n simply pushed away the food and got up. “I’m not feeling hungry. I…I’m just gonna go.” She mumbled before exiting the Mess Hall through the doors.

Hermione looked back at Harry, fury in her eyes, “See what we’ve done?! We’ve broken her! Does it make you feel good knowing that she is like this because of something we did?! Do you feel better knowing that we are keeping her safe by torturing her?! Do you consider yourself a better friend now?!”

Harry couldn’t even answer. He did this with good intentions but seeing Y/n now….he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to protect Y/n or because he didn’t like the idea of one of his best friends with his worst enemy. He looked over at Malfoy, who stared off into empty space with a deep frown and dull eyes.

“Harry…we messed up, big time. We need to do something to fix this. Please. Look at how much both of them are hurting. We did this to them, now we need to do something to repair the damage.” Hermione begged.

Somewhere in his heart, Harry knew that Hermione was right. No matter how much he wanted to protect Y/n, he should never have gone through such lengths to do it.

“Fine.” He answered.

“Wait…what is that?” Hermione asked, pointing to a shiny object laying on the table.

“Looks like…Y/n’s necklace. The one Malfoy gave to her when they first started dating. She never took it off.” Harry said, “The stupid clip always fell off though. It must’ve fallen off again.”

Hermione took the necklace and put it in her pocket, an idea slowly popping into her head on how to help her friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been days since the breakup. Draco felt more and more miserable as the days passed. Currently, the breakup was affecting him more than the mark on his arm. He could handle the dark mark, but he couldn’t handle not having Y/n in his life. She was something he couldn’t just forget about or pretend didn’t exist like he did with the mark. He would mindlessly watch her as she would sit down at the Slytherin table during meals and stare at her plate. He desperately wanted to go over to her and wrap his arms around her, to convince her to eat. Granted, he hadn’t really eaten either however, Draco couldn’t be bothered to think about that. His mind had been too focused on Y/n. Overhead, he heard the loud screeching of owls, signaling that mail had arrived. His owl swooped down to him with a small package in its talons and a letter in its beak. He gently took the items from the bird before it took off to the owlery. He opened the letter first and read the messy handwriting on the paper;

Malfoy,

I know what happened with Y/n. I know that she broke up with you and returned hours later acting like she was still your girlfriend. Acting like…she never knew she broke up with you.

Draco was confused. How could this person have known that? He shook his head and decided to continue reading.

In anger, you insulted her and deeply hurt her. Now...she’s suffering and so are you. Don’t try to deny that you don’t miss her or don’t love her because you know that you’re only lying to yourself.

I wrote this letter because I want to help the two of you. It may seem odd that a random stranger would want to help you but I’ve seen the way you two loved each other and I don’t think something like that should be so easily extinguished. I’m not gonna say who I am nor am I going to meet you in person, I’m just here to offer some advice.

Y/n is a wonderful girl. You don’t find a lot of people like her and you managed to form a strong relationship with her. Love as strong as that shouldn’t be thrown away. Y/n loves you. I know that she was the one to break up with you but I want to say that Y/n is someone who is gentle and has a big heart. She wouldn’t just break up with someone she loves without an explanation. I’m advising that you go talk to her and find out what happened that night. Perhaps you jumped to conclusions. Also, give her the thing in the package, she’ll appreciate it.

Anonymous.

Draco raised his brows in suspicion as the letter ended. This person seemed to oddly know a lot about what happened that terrible night. Nevertheless, they had provided him with some sort of help that he could use to fix his relationship. He opened the small package to reveal the necklace he had first given Y/n when they had started dating. She never took it off, so if it’s off... He didn’t even want to think about it that way. He thought over the letter and this so-called “Anonymous’” advice. Perhaps this person was right, Y/n did seem confused when he was angry with her.

“It’s worth a shot. Not like it can get worse than this.” He told himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had found Y/n at the Astronomy Tower. She was serenely looking at the landscape on the tower’s balcony. He coughed awkwardly and she turned around and immediately froze when she saw him.

“Y/n….” He started, “I-I’m sorry for what I said. I never meant to hurt you and…it ate me up inside. I was just angry that night and I took it out on you.” Draco decided to leave out the part where she had broken up with him, he would look into that later. “You’re not a blood-traitor, you were my girlfriend. I never regretted us but I did regret hitting you. It hurt me to see you hurt by something I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that. I love you so much. If I had a time-turner, you can bet I would be using it to change how this turned out. If you don’t forgive me, I understand. I probably wouldn’t forgive me either. I’m just so miserable without you and I don’t think I can last another day watching you and knowing I can’t hug you or kiss you anymore. I miss you. You don’t have to forgive me but I’m just asking for another chance. Please….”

Y/n averted her gaze from him, her eyes cloudy with tears. “Draco…” Hearing her voice again was oddly refreshing. “You hurt me so much that night.” He hung his head and stared at the ground, wishing he could take it all back. “I didn’t understand why you were angry or why you did those things. You told me that you regretted me. That you regretted us. You said you regretted loving me. What did I do wrong? Am I not pretty enough? Smart enough? Did you simply grow bored of me? I wouldn’t blame you though, I’m just average Y/n. Just Y/n. I don’t compare to someone like Pansy or Astoria.” Y/n cried.

Draco moved to hug Y/n but stopped when she flinched. His heart broke a little at the sight. She was afraid of him.

“Y/n…don't talk about yourself like that. You’re beautiful, clever, talented, and the only one for me. Parkinson and Greengrass don’t matter to me, nor will they ever. I could never get bored of you. I…I love you. That’s the honest truth. I said some really hurtful things that night but I swear that I never meant any of it. Please don’t go. I truly love you and I promise I’ll never do those things again.” Draco begged.

Slowly, Y/n stepped towards him, carefully inching towards him. Her mind screamed at her to not forgive him. After all, he did slap her. However, her heart cried for her to go to him. He may have done all those horrible things but for Merlin’s sake she still loved him. It’s not like she could easily forget how painful that incident was but it was also hard to let go of all the good times they had. It was one stupid mistake versus years of love and trust. She kept making her way to him until she was about an inch away from him.

“Promise?” She asked, holding out a hand for Draco. Draco looked up at her, those stormy grey eyes looking into her own (e/c) eyes.

“Promise.” He answered, cautiously wrapping his arms tightly around her and bringing her to him, holding her like she was going to slip away from him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He sobbed into her shoulder.

Y/n wrapped her arms around him as well, tears flowing down her cheeks and onto Draco’s black suit. She lightly stroked his blonde hair, comforting him and silently signaling that she forgave him.

Draco broke the hug and dug something out of his pocket. He fished out the necklace he had gotten from “Anonymous” and showed it to Y/n.

“My necklace!” Y/n gasped upon seeing it. “The cursed thing fell off again!”

She turned around and Draco helped her put it on again.

“It’s back where it belongs now.” He smiled.

He moved closer to Y/n until he was face to face with her. Merlin, he missed her. He then gently pushed his lips onto hers, feeling relieved when she kissed back. The kiss was full of passion, longing and desperation. Eventually the pair parted for oxygen.

“I love you, Y/n.” Draco said.

“I love you too, you git.” Y/n responded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So? You two are back together?” Harry asked Y/n during breakfast the next day. Y/n looked a lot better than she had been the past few days. She was smiling more and the life had returned to her eyes. She ate food and was more social.

“Yes. Wait a second…how did you know the two of us had broken up if I never told you?” Y/n asked suspiciously.

“Uh…the both of you were pretty depressed for the past week so I just assumed that happened?” Harry panicked.

“Nice try, Harry. The truth. Now.” Y/n demanded.

Harry could see Hermione and Ron give him the death glare as the trio reluctantly told their friend what they had done. By the time the story was finished, Y/n looked livid.

“Let me just…summarize this. You impersonated me and broke up with my boyfriend as me because you wanted to protect me from him all because he was a death eater?! Well guess what?! This whole time I knew he was a death eater! I KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME AND I STILL STAYED WITH HIM! I love you guys but I don’t need your protection nor do I need to be involved in your crazy schemes! Never. And I mean never. Never EVER mess around with my relationships again! I should stop being your friend right now but I’m not going to do that because I understand you had good intentions when you did this. Just never do that again. When were you going to tell me you did this?!” Y/n fumed.

The trio shook their heads, silently answering her question. Never.

“You three caused me a lot of grief. This would have never happened if it weren’t for you guys! Even worse, you were never going to tell me?! Really?!” Y/n seethed.

“Please, you have to forgive us. I promise that we felt so much guilt after what we did. We know it was wrong but we thought it was best!” Hermione begged.

Y/n understood why her friends did this. However, there had to be some consequence.

“Alright. I’ll forgive you if you promise not to do that ever again. However, for this whole month, I’m spending my time with Draco and cutting off any communication from you. Don’t try to talk to me until this whole month is over. I hope you all learned a lesson.” Y/n said, getting up from the Gryffindor table and making her way over to Slytherin table instead. Behind her, the golden trio groaned at the loss of their friend. They watched as she sat down next to Draco and kissed him.

“At least she’s happy.” Ron muttered.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Hermione said.

“You were part of it!”

“I regretted it the most! And I was the one who wrote the Anonymous letter to Draco, remember?!”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. We can’t change anything about it now. We should just be happy that she didn’t stop being our friend and we should be glad that she’s happy now.” Harry interrupted.

“She’s happy with Malfoy. I suppose we can’t do anything to change that.”

********************

That concludes Polyjuice Potion! Thank you for sticking around and reading this cringeworthy material! I am in NO way romanticising an abusive relationship. I'll leave a number to a place you can get help if you are being abused. I'm going to be moving the rest of my more popular Draco x Readers on here so prepare for more I suppose. I also want to warn that some of those happen to be angst (sorry if you don't like angst or I fail at writing the stuff). Thank you for reading and (possibly) enjoying this. If you have any requests, feel free to ask. Until next time. This post is too long so I'll add the number here; National Domestic Violence: 1−800−799−7233 (Unfortunately, this is the only one I know of. Please feel free to tell me any other ones you know of so I can add them here.)

-Jade

[acciotrashpile]

Drarry Prompt: (8th year) Where Draco ends up holding Harry's hand every time he is scared. This comes as a surprise to both of them.

Harry gaped at Malfoy, their fingers laced together. Malfoy was staring blankly ahead, his mouth twisted in a frown. Harry was too in shock to say anything. Too confused to move. The had been in Potions, somehow paired up together again, working on their Draught of Living death, when out of nowhere, his hand had flown to Harry’s, gripping it tightly. Harry had been mid-sentence, explaining how they could have used this potion during the war. He found himself unable to finish, his thoughts lost completely. He couldn’t focus with the warmth of Malfoy’s hand in his own. Harry could feel the other boy’s heartbeat, pulsing quickly between his fingers. He swallowed.

“…Malfoy?”

///

Draco shook his head roughly, as if trying to expel the memories from his head. His eyes focused around him and he realised he was sitting in the Potions classroom.

“Malfoy…”

He turned his head, a sneer forming on his face.

“What, Potter? Can’t figure out a simple potion? The instructions are right in front of you.”

Potter looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh, as he raised their joined hands. Draco spluttered, a soft blush forming on his face. He ripped his hand away like it was on fire.

“Taking advantage of me? Just wait..” He trailed off. “Nevermind.”

Neither of them spoke the rest of the class,

///

It wasn’t until a Defense Against the Dark Arts class a couple of weeks later that it happened again.

They had been standing next to each other in the semi-circle, waiting for the Boggart to approach. Everyone already knew how to cast a Patronus, but their new Professor had decided it was worth going over again. Draco glanced over at Potter and caught himself staring. He frowned. Draco didn’t know how they kept getting stuck working together. Some inter-house unity bollocks. McGonnagall had decided that after the war, the students who returned needed to get along better and be more accepting of each other. Some Hufflepuff nonsense, as far as Draco was concerned.

Suddenly, it was his turn to face off with the Boggart. He gasped as it shifted and morphed in front of him, and all of a sudden Potter was standing before him, a cruel smile twisting his face. He reached for Potter’s hand, gripping it tightly.

///

Harry couldn���t move, save for his eyes darting back and forth between Malfoy and the imposter standing in front of him. He vaguely registered that Malfoy was clutching his hand tightly, but he couldn’t focus on that. Why was he Malfoy’s boggart? And then the Boggart Harry started talking.

“I can’t believe I saved you. I should have let you die in that fire. Should have let you die on that bathroom floor. Should have finished the job then.”

Harry noticed Malfoy start shaking, and then realised his own was shaking. He looked down and saw they were holding hands again. When did that happen? He tried to let go, but Malfoy was holding on so tightly he didn’t stand a chance.

“You weren’t worth saving! You just went right back to join Voldemort, then slinked away with your family, your tails between your legs. What good have you done since?”

Harry shook his head and stepped forward, catching the attention of the Boggart, as it changed again, this time into a Dementor. Harry sighed, shaking his head. Of course it was still the same, he still couldn’t get over that fear. The fear of fear itself, as Lupin had said.

“RIDDIKULUS”

The room was silent as the Boggart moved on, and Harry tugged on his hand that was joined with Malfoy’s.

“You know, I don’t regret saving you, right?” He said quietly.

Malfoy finally met his eyes and shook his head slowly, after some time dropping his hand to his side.

///

One week later, walking with Potter and Pansy in between classes, Draco was pushed against a wall. He turned around to face his attacker and it was some Hufflepuff Eighth Year. He didn’t know his name, but he knew his face. They shared most of their classes together. He didn’t even have time to reach for his wand before the larger boy had his out and pressed against his chest.

“You know, nobody would mind if I just hexed you right here. You shouldn’t have come back. No one wants you here.”

Draco closed his eyes and flinched, not able to defend himself, preparing for the worst.

///

Justin Finch-Fletchly? When had he developed such a mean streak? Harry started to protest, stepping closer to Malfoy, his hand reaching for his wand, when suddenly it was full of something. He looked down. Malfoy had grabbed his hand. Again. He couldn’t help the smile that started to form on his face, before he brought his attention back to Justin.

“You and I both know what will happen if you do that, and I don’t think you want to fight me.” He started, magic flaring in his veins. Justin’s eyes went wide, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “Whatever, Harry. He’s not worth it, anyway.”

As Justin walked off, Pansy turned to Malfoy.

“I can’t believe you were just going to take it, You didn’t deserve that! Everyone knows the position you were put in, they basically put your entire trial in the Prophet!” She sighed. “Come on, Draco. Let’s go to class.”

As they turned to walk away, Malfoy tugged Harry along. Either he didn’t realise he was still holding on, or he didn’t want to let go. Harry didn’t mind either way.

///

Eighth years from every house sat huddled together in their shared common room. It was Halloween and somehow Pansy had convinced Draco to participate in the movie night they were having. Some Gryffindor had brought a muggle movie in and Granger had figured out how to make it work without a… television? Whatever that was.

He somehow found himself on the couch, sitting next to Potter, Weasley on his other side. It didn’t bother him as much as he expected.

///

Harry could feel the heat of Malfoy’s body, his leg pressing against his, but for some reason he didn’t want to move it away. Seamus had brought in Nightmare on Elm street. Harry had heard his cousin talking about it with his friends once, but he had never been able to see it. Thank Merlin Hermione was clever and fixed it so everyone could watch.

He looked over at Malfoy, He had started growing out his hair more, it hung loosely around his face, kissing his cheeks. Harry blushed. He did not think of Malfoy and kissing in the same sentence. He didn’t.

He couldn’t focus the entire movie. He knew there was something going on with this guy going into dreams, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Malfoy. He was so present next to him, he couldn’t stop thinking of their thighs pressing together, their feet resting against each other. He was so preoccupied, he almost didn’t notice when Malfoy’s hand found his, gripping it tightly. He was too busy watching Malfoy’s face, watching his eyebrows shoot into his hair in shock. He swallowed and turned to face the movie, unconsciously stroking the other boy’s hand with his thumb.

///

“Um.. Malfoy?” Harry finally got his attention, after standing nearby for a few minutes, unsure what to say.

“Yes, Potter? Here to harass me?” He looked up from his book and raised his eyebrow at Harry.

“What’s going on? I mean, with the hand holding? Hermione is making me talk to you. I told her to mind her own business, but then Ron and Neville ganged up on me, too. Um.”

Malfoy scoffed.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you should go.”

“I… don’t mind.” Harry struggled to get out. “The hand holding, I mean. I just don’t understand. You hate me.”

Malfoy just stared at him. Harry stood there for a moment before he cleared his throat and nodded sharply.

“Right, then. Right. Okay.”

He turned and rushed out of the library.

///

Draco caught up to Potter near the Great Hall.

“Wait!” He called out, coming to a stop a few feet behind him. “I… I don’t know. The hand thing. It just happened. And then again.”

Harry turned and frowned.

“So, what?”

“I mean, I don’t hate you.” Draco forced out. “I don’t think I ever did, not really. I think I was just angry. And jealous. And, well. I don’t think Pansy understands. What I had to go through. What you went through.”

Harry tilted his head to one side. Draco thought he looked like a confused puppy, and shoved down the thought that it was slightly adorable.

“But, why?”

Draco sighed.

“I’m not sure. That potions class. It’s like I was back in the war. You were talking about it and then I was there. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And Defense? That boggart-” Draco clenched his jaw and looked away.

Harry stepped closer.

“It’s okay, you know. To be scared?”

Draco frowned.

“I’m not! Why would I be scared, Potter?”

“Draco…”

His head snapped up at Harry’s use of his name.

Harry held out his hand and Draco took it, a slow grin forming on his face. Together, they walked into the Great Hall.

(now available on ao3)

[botterofbears-blog]

Expecto Patronum

With the N.E.W.T. exams fast approaching, the professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were piling on the work and with the war against Voldemort raging beyond the castle walls, the teachers seemed to believe it was more important than ever for their students to succeed in their lessons.

One of the many tasks the 7th year students had received was mastering the Patronus Charm, used to repel dementors, before the end of the month. They would then be required to go before the class and perform the charm successfully, or receive a failing grade.

This was why Lily Evans was currently standing in the middle of the deserted Gryffindor common room at 3am, much to her boyfriend James Potter's displeasure.

"Your not going to get it by stressing, love." James told her when she let out a growl of frustration after receiving only silvery whisp, again. Lily jumped, not realising James was leaning against the wall behind her and watching as she tried to master the difficult spell.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, glancing at the clock.

"Figured you might want some help." James shrugged. He hated the thought of her getting worked up over the spell.

"You've already learnt it?" Lily asked James curiously. She wasn't really that surprised, she knew her boyfriend was a talented wizard, he was a bloody animagus for Godric's sake, and she appreciated he was willing to help her.

James nodded, "the lads and I learnt it last year." he told her, as if learning an extremely difficult spell a year early was of no importance.

"Is it a stag?" Lily asked excitedly, thinking of his animagus form, her frustration temporarily forgotten.

James nodded and with a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation, a large silver stag appeared before him.

Lily watched it in awe as it began to circle the room, and couldn't help but smile as she admired it before it disappeared.

She had been so enraptured by the Patronus she hadn't noticed James coming up behind her until his strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind and his chest pressed against her back.

She sighed contentedly as she leaned against his strong form and he rested his chin on her head.

"You need a stronger memory." he murmured.

"I've tried loads of them. This one was the one that worked best." She told him irratadely.

"What were you thinking about?" James asked her curiously.

Lily swallowed before quietly telling him, "Making snowmen with my parents when I was younger. My dad started a snowball fight."

James' grip tightened on her as he held her closer against him. "I'm sorry love." He knew Lily had been close to her parents, despite being in school most of the year. It had been difficult for her when they both passed away last year in a car accident.

They were both lost in their own thoughts for a moment, and James was slightly surprised when Lily spoke again.

"Do you think I should try another memory?"

"Give it a go, it's worth a shot." James encouraged.

Lily thought hard for a moment. She knew her childhood memories wouldn't work because no matter how happy they were, they were all tarnished. She couldn't think of Petunia without hearing the word Freak, she couldn't think of Severus without hearing the word Mudblood. Her parents deaths were still too raw she realised, so any memories with them were overshadowed by their passing.

She thought of her time at Hogwarts, all the new friends she had made who stuck by her through everything.

"It's not just the memories that matter, it's the feeling they give you." James told her.

She thought of laying by the lake with Mary MacDonald as they chatted about everything and anything for hours. She thought about standing in the Quiditch stands with Marlene McKinnon and cheering wildly for Gryffindor. She thought about playing chess in front of the fire in the common room at 2 in the morning with Sirius Black. She thought about reading with Remus Lupin and discussing all their favourite books. She thought about tutoring Peter Pettigrew so he could keep up in all his classes.

James flicked his wrist and muttered the spell again and once more his stag appeared. "Concentrate on how these memories make you feel." He told her. She looked at the beautiful stag circling the common room and thought of James Potter.

She thought of the time he had spilled frog spawn on her in first year potions so she had spilled his cauldron on the floor and they had gotten detention. They had ended up throwing all sorts of various ingredients at each other and it developed into a full on war. They had both collapsed on the floor of the potions classroom they were supposed to be cleaning covered in all sorts of goo and had laughed themselves horse. It had been her very first detention.

She remembered becoming friends with him in 6th year and slowly him becoming one of the most important people in her life. She remembered him holding her after her parents died and promising her that he'd always be there for her. She remembered pushing him into the black lake and all her friends ending up going for a swim. She remembered him running through the corridors with her on his back just because. She remembered him and Sirius getting drunk and trying to serenade her. She remembered when he asked her out at the beginning of 7th year and he'd been such a nervous, adorable idiot she knew he was completely genuine. She remembered going to Hogsmede and kissing him for the very first time on the way back to Hogwarts after the best date she could have imagined. She remembered sneaking out to explore the forbidden forest together or going up to the astronomy tower to watch the sunset. She remembered the first time he told her he loved her, and the first time she said it back. She remembered how much she meant it. How this idiotic, amazing, incredible boy made her feel like she was the only person in the world and she could be anything she wanted.

James removed one hand from her waist to hold her wand with her. "We'll say it together." he told her.

Lily looked at the stag still circling the common room and thought about all the people who made her happy, but mostly of James, who made her who she was.

They moved her wand together, James guiding her hand in theflicking motion.

"Expecto Patronum"

From the end of Lily's wand a four legged shape appeared and it took her a moment to realise what it was. She heard James gasp as he too realised what the shape was.

"A doe." he said.

"A doe and a stag." she told him.

She watched in fascination as the doe and stag approached each other and began circling each other before they seemed to embrace.

She turned around in James' arms to face him and she was sure the wide grin on his face reflected hers.

"It seems fitting." she told him as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Yes, it does." he agreed as he leant down to kiss her.

When Lily was asked to perform her Patronus in front of the class, she met James' gaze before remembering all the memories, all the people, who made her happy.

It was no surprise she got full marks because really, it wasn't just about the memory, it was how the memory made you feel, and he made her feel right.

He made her feel like she could cast a million Patronus' any time she wanted.

So there you go. Hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think :)