#we need more love and attention for hex

[hexes-and-os]

Hm? Oh, hello little one!

(it's @the-amazing-sun , and yes I know what I'm doing)

He-loh!

...Yu luuk liek my mama. But yu arn-t...

[iris-qt]

between the lines

a very inconvenient discovery

You don’t realize what you’ve done until you’re halfway through your second class of the day and open your notebook to find...

Not your handwriting.

Not your diagrams. Not your very specific color-coding system. And certainly not your very dramatic drawing of Professor Binns mid-lecture, labeled “Sir Snooze-a-Lot.”

You stare at the page. Then flip. And flip again.

Oh no.

You’ve taken someone else’s notebook.

You never make mistakes like this. Your entire personality is built around being the girl who does not make mistakes like this. The girl who labels her tab dividers and rewrites her notes in neat, margin-aligned bullet points.

And now you’ve accidentally stolen someone’s entire academic life.

You're about to panic when a small ink blot in the corner of a page catches your eye.

It’s not a blot. It’s… a doodle?

Of a plant. One you recognize from Herbology drawn with an almost obsessive attention to detail, like someone who secretly loves the subject but doesn’t want anyone to know. Cute. Kind of nerdy.

You flip again.

Another page. Another harmless doodle.

You squint. There’s writing next to it, a scrawled little annotation that reads: cold in the library again. she never brings a jumper.

Your stomach does something weird.

You turn the page one more time.

It’s a sketch of… you.

It’s not a masterpiece or anything, but you recognize yourself immediately: the curve of your cheek, the way your quill rests against your lower lip when you’re thinking. There’s a tiny label under it, scribbled like an afterthought:

"Library girl."

You slam the notebook shut, face hot.

Okay. So.

You’ve just accidentally discovered that someone, an anonymous, emotionally repressed someone, has not only been sketching you in their notes… they’ve noticed things. Like the fact that you’re always cold in the library. Like the way you sit. The way you—

Oh Merlin.

Who does this belong to??

You think back to that morning. The rush of class. The pile of identical-looking notebooks on the desk in the library.

There’s only one other person who sits near you there. Always. Like clockwork. Never speaks. Just reads quietly in his perfect posture and his perfect jumper and his perfect bloody bone structure.

Theodore Nott.

You nearly fall off your chair.

Because if this notebook is his...

You look down at the cover. Nothing. Not a single identifying mark.

Of course. He would be mysterious about it.

You spend the next three hours spiraling.

Maybe, hopefully, it wasn't Theodore Nott’s? What if it is his and he finds out you saw and... Oh no.

He’s going to hex you.

You clutch the notebook like it’s about to self-destruct. You need to return it. Quietly. Discreetly. With as little eye contact as possible. Preferably while pretending you’ve seen nothing at all. Unfortunately, fate (and Theo Nott) are not that kind.

Later that evening. The library.

You slip into your usual spot and there he is.

Seated across from you like always, looking calm and composed and terrifyingly unreadable. His hair is a little messy, like he’s been running a hand through it, and his tie is slightly askew in a way that shouldn’t be attractive but absolutely is.

Your eyes meet.

Something flickers in his.

He looks down at the desk in front of him… where he has your notebook. Oh no. He knows.

You hold his notebook out toward him like a peace offering, trying not to die on the spot. “I, um— We switched. Earlier. I think.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just takes the notebook from your hands and flips it open. Your face burns in mounting horror as you take your own notebook back and see that he dog-eared a page where your very detailed to-do list included:

Finish Transfig essay

Ask Theo Nott what his problem is

(or if he just hates me personally???)

(he’s hot tho. unfortunately.)

“You read it,” he says, voice low and maddeningly calm, snapping you back from your brief paralyzation of horror.

“Did not,” you lie immediately.

One of his brows lifts.

Your face burns. “Okay, maybe a little. But like... casually.”

He leans back in his chair, studying you. “You read this casually? Was it a casual read for you?”

You fidget. “I didn’t mean to.”

There’s a long, awful pause. Then, softly and unexpectedly, he says, “I thought you’d be mad.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I thought… you’d be freaked out.” He taps a finger lightly against the edge of the notebook. “That I drew you. That I notice things.”

You stare at him.

“Theo,” you say, voice too high. “You drew me like a Victorian botanist in love. I’m not freaked out. I’m flattered.”

He gives a quiet huff of laughter, then looks down, shy, almost. It's disarming. You reach for your own notebook again, flipping it open and finding a new note on the inside cover. In that familiar sharp script:

“You looked cold. I’ll bring a jumper next time.”

You glance up.

He’s already pulling off his jumper and sliding it across the table to you.

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (4) - Mattheo Riddle

The whispers had become a constant hum in the Great Hall, a low murmur that followed Mattheo like a shadow. Ever since his father’s return, his name carried more weight than ever—more fear, more suspicion. Students shrank away when he passed, their voices hushed but not enough to stop him from hearing. Voldemort. The name curled on their tongues like poison.

He didn’t care. Let them whisper. Let them believe whatever their terrified minds conjured. His only concern sat beside him, unaware of the storm brewing in his head. You.

You were sitting with Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo at the Slytherin table, your hands resting on Mattheo’s thigh as he absentmindedly played with your fingers, his other hand holding a goblet of wine-red pumpkin juice. He looked calm, at least on the surface, but you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that something was off.

You followed his gaze, your stomach twisting when you saw the source of his irritation—Fred Weasley.

Fred was sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing with his twin and a few others. He didn’t seem to notice Mattheo’s glare burning into the side of his head, but you knew it wouldn’t take much to set your boyfriend off. The last time Fred had said something about Mattheo’s family, Mattheo had nearly hexed him into the hospital wing.

Theo and Enzo were already watching with mild amusement, waiting to see what would happen.

"Mate, just hex him already and get it over with," Theo said lazily, stabbing at his food with his fork. "You’re going to combust if you keep glaring like that."

"Nah," Enzo countered, smirking. "He’s waiting for a real reason. Give Weasley a few minutes; he always runs his mouth eventually."

Mattheo didn’t respond, but his fingers tensed around yours. You could feel the barely restrained anger rolling off him in waves. You sighed, squeezing his hand. "Mattheo, focus," you murmured. "You promised you’d help me with my Charms essay, remember?"

His eyes flicked to you, still dark with irritation, but his expression softened slightly. "I did, didn’t I?" he mused, though his glare returned to Fred a second later.

You rolled your eyes, realizing there was only one way to get his attention back on you.

Without warning, you grabbed his chin and pulled him into a deep kiss. Mattheo immediately responded, his grip tightening on your waist as he kissed you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. The sound of Enzo and Theo groaning in mock disgust barely registered in your mind.

"Bloody hell," Theo muttered. "We get it, you two are obsessed with each other."

"I’m going to hex myself just to escape this," Enzo added, pretending to gag.

When you finally pulled back, Mattheo looked at you with a dazed expression, his anger momentarily forgotten. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. "What were we talking about again?" he murmured.

You smirked, brushing your thumb over his jaw. "My Charms essay."

"Right," he said, though he still looked entirely distracted by you.

Theo snorted. "Unbelievable. One kiss and you’ve melted him completely. You really do own him."

"Shut up, Theo," Mattheo grumbled, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned his full attention to you, leaning in so close that his nose brushed against yours. "Alright, love, let’s talk about Charms. I’ll give you whatever help you need."

You smiled triumphantly, knowing you’d successfully pulled him back to you. But as much as Mattheo was now entirely focused on you, you couldn’t ignore the way he occasionally glanced back at the Gryffindor table, like he was still debating whether or not to throw a hex.

You sighed. It was only a matter of time before chaos struck again.

As dinner continued, you could feel Mattheo’s fingers twitching where they rested against your thigh, his eyes flickering back to the Gryffindor table every so often. He was distracted, but at least he wasn’t storming over there yet. Small victories.

Theo and Enzo, however, weren’t helping.

"You know," Theo started, picking at his food with a smirk, "if you don’t do something soon, Weasley might get the idea that you’ve gone soft."

Mattheo tensed beside you, his jaw clenching.

Enzo grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Yeah, imagine what people would say. ‘Mattheo Riddle, heir to the Dark Lord, taken down by a single kiss.’ Sounds tragic, really."

You shot them both a look. "Would you two shut up? He’s already trying not to murder anyone tonight, let’s not encourage him."

"We’re just pointing out facts," Theo said, raising his hands innocently. "Your boyfriend has a reputation to uphold."

"His reputation is fine," you shot back, but Mattheo exhaled sharply and leaned back in his seat, his fingers flexing as if itching to grab his wand.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," he muttered, pushing his plate away.

You could tell he was at his limit. The stress of all the drama and attention surrounding his father’s return to power was all weighing on him. And now, Theo and Enzo were poking at him like he was some caged animal ready to snap.

You sighed, reaching for his hand again. "Mattheo, don’t."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, but before he could respond, Fred’s loud, obnoxious voice carried across the hall.

"—not like Riddle can do anything, anyway. All that talk, but he only picks fights when he knows he’ll win."

The moment those words left Fred’s mouth, the Great Hall went still. A few students turned their heads, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Even some of the professors seemed to pause, looking toward the Slytherin table warily.

Mattheo, who had been on edge all night, went entirely still beside you. You could practically feel the rage rolling off of him, his entire body tensing like a predator that had just locked onto its prey.

Theo and Enzo immediately sat up straighter, no longer smirking.

"Oh, fuck," Enzo muttered under his breath.

Theo blinked. "Well. That was a choice Weasley just made."

You groaned, knowing exactly what was about to happen. "Mattheo—"

Too late.

Before you could stop him, Mattheo was already out of his seat, moving with a deadly grace toward the Gryffindor table. The hall erupted into hushed murmurs as students watched him stalk forward like a man possessed.

You got up immediately, following after him, but Theo grabbed your wrist. "Let him have this one," he murmured. "You know he needs it."

You bit your lip, torn between stopping Mattheo and knowing that Theo was right. After everything that had happened, Mattheo needed an outlet. And unfortunately for Fred, he had just volunteered himself as a sacrifice.

By the time Mattheo reached the Gryffindor table, Fred was already standing, his usual cocky smirk in place. "Ah, there he is. Took you long enough—"

He didn’t get to finish.

Mattheo’s fist connected with Fred’s jaw so fast that most people barely had time to register what had happened before Fred was stumbling backward, knocking into George.

The hall exploded into chaos.

"What the fuck, Riddle?!" Fred shouted, clutching his jaw.

Mattheo just stood there, rolling his shoulders like he hadn’t just decked a Weasley in the middle of dinner. "What? I thought you wanted a fight," he said, voice eerily calm. "Or was all that talking just for show?"

Fred, never one to back down, lunged at him, and suddenly the two of them were full-on brawling in the middle of the Great Hall.

Students were cheering, some scrambling to get out of the way. The professors were already shouting, wands raised, but no one dared to step in just yet.

Theo and Enzo were thrilled.

"Oh, this is fantastic," Enzo grinned, leaning forward with an excited gleam in his eyes. "Best dinner we’ve had in weeks."

"My money’s on Riddle knocking him out cold in the next three minutes," Theo said, nudging Enzo.

"Two," Enzo countered.

"One," you deadpanned, because Mattheo had just slammed Fred into the Gryffindor table so hard that plates shattered on impact.

"Alright, that’s enough!"

Professor McGonagall’s voice rang through the chaos, and with a flick of her wand, both Mattheo and Fred were forcibly separated, yanked apart by an invisible force.

Mattheo was breathing heavily, his lip bleeding slightly, but he looked thrilled.

Fred, on the other hand, looked like he had just gone through a war. His hair was a mess, his shirt was ripped, and he had a nasty bruise forming on his cheekbone.

McGonagall looked furious. "Detention. The both of you. My office. Now."

Mattheo wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, smirking as he glanced back at you.

"Worth it," he mouthed.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as he was practically dragged out of the hall by McGonagall.

Theo and Enzo were howling with laughter.

"That was beautiful," Theo said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Absolutely stunning work. I’m so proud of him."

"He looked so feral," Enzo added. "Did you see the way he threw Weasley into the table? Absolute art."

You shot them both a look. "You two are the worst."

"And yet, you love us," Theo grinned.

"No, I love Mattheo, but he’s also currently on his way to serve detention, so thanks for that," you muttered, shaking your head.

Theo smirked. "You gonna go wait for him?"

You hesitated for a second before sighing. "Yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t hex the next person he sees.”

Enzo grinned. "Good luck with that one.”

You rolled your eyes but turned on your heel, making your way toward McGonagall’s office. Mattheo Riddle was going to be the death of you, but Merlin help you, you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You leaned against the cold stone wall outside McGonagall’s office, arms crossed as you waited for Mattheo to emerge from his detention. The hallways were quiet now, dinner having ended long ago, and you were left with nothing but the occasional flicker of torchlight and the muffled sounds of students moving about the castle.

You had half a mind to be annoyed with Mattheo—because honestly, punching Fred Weasley in the middle of the Great Hall? Not his smartest moment. But at the same time, you knew exactly why he’d done it. He had been itching for a release, something to pour his anger into. And Fred, with his big mouth and reckless attitude, had given him the perfect excuse.

The door creaked open.

Mattheo stepped out, looking entirely unbothered, as if he hadn’t just spent an hour being lectured by McGonagall. His lip was still a little split, though the swelling had gone down, and there were faint bruises blooming along his knuckles. His tie was loosened, and his shirt was slightly untucked—he looked thoroughly unrepentant.

The moment he spotted you, his entire expression softened. "Hey, love," he murmured, already moving toward you.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Mattheo."

"What?" he asked, smirking as he reached for your waist. "Didn’t you love watching me put Weasley in his place?"

"You’re impossible," you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you into him.

"And yet, you’re here waiting for me," he murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of your jaw. "Which means you love me anyway."

You rolled your eyes, but your hands found their way to his chest, fingers brushing over the faint bruises peeking from under his collar. "You’re lucky I do," you muttered. "Otherwise, I’d let you deal with your injuries alone."

"You’d never," he teased, but there was something softer in his voice now. His forehead dropped against yours, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter. "You always take care of me."

Your expression softened. "Of course I do. Someone has to.”

Mattheo exhaled, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m in desperate need of a bath, and you, my love, are in desperate need of letting me spoil you properly."

"Spoil me?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one who got in a fight."

"Exactly," he murmured, smirking. "Which means you had to stress over me, and for that, you deserve extra attention."

You rolled your eyes, but you let him lace his fingers with yours as he led you down the hallway.

Of course, when you got back to the Slytherin common room, Theo and Enzo were waiting.

"Ah, there they are," Theo said, grinning. "Hogwarts’ favorite troublemaker and his poor, suffering girlfriend."

"Took you long enough," Enzo added, smirking. "Did you two snog in the hallway or something?"

Mattheo smirked. "Wouldn’t you like to know."

Theo groaned. "Merlin, you two are insufferable."

"And yet," you said, smiling sweetly, "you love us anyway."

Theo muttered something under his breath, but Enzo just laughed. "She’s got you there, mate."

Mattheo tugged you toward the couch, pulling you down onto his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His arms wrapped around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder as he exhaled contentedly. "Much better," he murmured. "Now, I believe I promised to spoil you, love."

"Oh?" Theo quipped, smirking. "And what does spoiling entail?"

Mattheo smirked against your skin. "Wouldn’t you like to know."

Theo groaned again, while Enzo just cackled.

And despite the absolute chaos of the day, you couldn’t help but smile. Because as long as you had Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo—your ridiculous, unhinged little group—you knew that, somehow, everything would be okay.

[crescenthistory]

and what about it?

Summary: Continuation of this storyline. Barty and you keep bickering, to everyone's chagrin and no one's surprise – until you kiss, that is.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: not proofread, use of y/n, absolute chaos going down, bickering, flirting, barty being maniacal and a bit masochistic, jegulus and wolfstar as supportive characters, literally everyone is silly in this

next part here!

The Hogwarts library was filled by a mix of quiet whispers and faint shuffling, with students huddled at tables pretending to study for the upcoming exams. In the very back, though, far away from the more studious lot, the Marauders and company had claimed their usual table, where studying was more of a suggestion than an actual plan.

James and Regulus sat closest to the end of the long table, side by side in that annoyingly close way that proved they were still very much in their honeymoon phase. James had his chair tilted back, arms stretched out casually behind Regulus, while Regulus, with an almost imperceptible smile, tried to look like he was paying attention to his Potions book.

“You know, love,” James started, leaning in a little closer to Regulus, “you don’t actually have to study right now. We could always… take a break.”

“Take a break from what exactly?” Sirius interjected, still hunched over the parchment he was doodling on. “You haven’t done a single productive thing in the last hour, Prongs.”

James huffed, but didn’t move away from Regulus, who was still pretending he couldn’t hear any of them. “I don’t see you doing any work, Pads.”

Sirius glanced at his doodles – an elaborate sketch of a Quidditch goal post being struck by lightning – before smirking. “This is art, mate. Very productive.”

Remus, who was sitting beside Sirius and perhaps the only one taking actual notes, sighed without looking up. “You two are hopeless. Some of us are actually trying to pass our exams.”

“Oh, Moony, live a little,” Sirius grinned, pushing his sketch toward him. “What do you think? Could sell this to the Daily Prophet, right?”

Remus didn’t even spare it a glance. “Absolutely not.”

Across the table, you were trying your best to focus on the notes in front of you, quill scratching against parchment. But the conversation around you, mixed with the ongoing flirtation between James and Regulus, was doing its best to pull you out of your concentration.

“Regulus, would you mind being disgustingly in love with Jamie a bit quieter?” you groaned, tossing your quill down in frustration, no longer inhibited around Regulus after the past few months. “Some of us are trying to focus.”

Regulus did not deign you with a glance, though his lips quirked up slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. You’ve been staring at Prongs like he’s your favourite broomstick all day. You two are worse than me when I got my new motorbike.”

“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t gushing about that motorbike for literal months,” James fired back, a grin spreading across his face. “This is karma, mate.”

Before Sirius could come up with a retort, you shot another glare at James and Regulus, feeling your patience wearing thin. “I swear, if I have to witness one more doe-eyed moment between you two, I’m hexing you both.”

Barty, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until now, leaned back in his chair beside you, smirking. “What did love ever do to you, sweetheart?”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “It's quite obnoxious, for one.”

Barty grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Don't you want to be obnoxiously in love?” he teased.

"I'd rather drink poison. Which I will, if you don't start focusing on our potions project soon." You rapped the textbook in front of him with your quill.

“Oh, come now, darling, you know I'd never do that to you,” Barty teased, lowering his voice in that infuriatingly smug way. “And there's no need to be jealous of Reggie – you could have all this romance if you wanted.”

You fixed him with a deadpan look. “With you? I’d rather go mad.”

“Already driving you mad, am I?” Barty shot back smoothly, leaning in just enough to make the air between you shift. “I must be doing something right.”

Sirius let out a loud, exaggerated groan from across the table. “Merlin, can you two ever go five minutes without throwing insults at each other?”

“No,” you and Barty said in unison, which earned a laugh from Remus and an eye roll from Sirius.

“I think they secretly like it,” James chimed in, finally pulling his attention away from Regulus just long enough to catch the tail end of your and Barty’s exchange. “You know, some people just communicate through bickering. It's their language.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at James. “I don’t bicker. He bickers. I’m just trying to survive.”

“You wound me,” Barty said, pressing a hand to his chest with mock hurt. “And here I thought you enjoyed our little chats.”

“If by ‘chats’ you mean listening to you go on and on about how brilliant you think you are, then sure,” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “I live for those.”

“I am brilliant, though,” Barty replied, completely unfazed, his smirk growing even wider. “You’ve just yet to admit it.”

You snorted. “The only thing brilliant about you is your ability to push my buttons, when we should be studying, Junior.”

“No need to study when we both know I'll ace it regardless." You hated that he was right. "I prefer putting in the work where it matters."

You quirked a brow at him. “Sounds like laziness to me.”

“It's called priorities,” he corrected, eyes gleaming with amusement. “And right now, my priority is sitting right in front of me.”

The groan that escaped your lips was loud enough to draw the attention of a few nearby students, but you couldn’t care less. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Because it’s true.”

“And yet, you keep sitting next to me. Interesting.”

Sirius, clearly unable to help himself, let out another exaggerated sigh. “Merlin, they’re at it again. Can someone put a Silencing Charm on them?”

Remus, who had been quietly enjoying the exchange, smiled into his notes. “I’d say just let them go. They’re only warming up.”

“You’re probably right,” Sirius agreed, glancing between you and Barty as if you couldn't hear him. “Let’s see how long it takes before one of them snaps.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Don't worry, Black, I’m already nearing my limit.”

“Then do something about it, love,” Barty purred, his grin turning devilish.

You leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes. “I will, as soon as I figure out which hex will shut you up for good.”

Before he could retort, you flicked your wand under the table, sending a tiny jolt toward him that caused him to yelp and jerk back, the smirk dropping from his face momentarily.

James burst out laughing, nearly toppling over his chair. “Oh, that was brilliant.”

Regulus, who had been watching the whole thing with a half-hidden smile, shook his head. “She's going to kill him one day.”

“That’s the plan,” you muttered under your breath, though a small, victorious smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Barty, however, recovered quickly, his smirk returning full force. “Oh, you love me too much to kill me.”

"I tolerate you at best, Junior."

"Same difference."

"I really don't think it is," James interjected, seemingly lost as his usual role of peacekeeper doesn't work with you and Barty.

"Oh, you just don't know her like I do." Barty's eyes gleamed as he stared at you.

The glare you shot him then was half-hearted at best. “Don’t push it.”

"You know I will," Barty said and winked at you, before closing the small distance between you to press a chaste peck to your lips.

It was quick, casual, and without any fanfare, just a soft press of lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world – because to you it was. You simply hummed into him before finally turning your head down back towards your notes with a satisfied smile, happy for the distracting conversation to be over.

"Excuse me what?!"

You hadn't even spent more than a second looking at your notes before you were interrupted by Sirius's voice.

You looked up to find everyone staring at you.

James had gone completely still, his mouth hanging open in an almost comical expression of shock. Regulus was blinking rapidly, as if trying to process what had just happened, while Sirius had frozen mid-doodle, his quill still in the air.

The only person who wasn’t shocked was Remus, who had broken into quiet, knowing laughter, clearly enjoying the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Wait– wait– hold on a second,” James finally sputtered, pointing between the two of you. “Did you just– did I just see–?”

"Use your words, Potter," Barty drawled out, eyeing the scene with interest.

“You two are– what?!” Sirius repeated, still frozen with his quill in the air. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he stared at you and Barty like you had just sprouted tentacles.

Barty, completely unfazed, leaned back in his chair with the most satisfied grin imaginable, casually crossing his arms behind his head. “Dating. Obviously.”

“Obviously?” James sounded like he might actually choke on the word. His glasses were sliding down his nose from the sheer force of his shock. “Obviously?!”

You shrugged, flipping through your notes like nothing at all had just happened. “Yeah. Why are you all acting like this is news?”

“Because it is!” Sirius threw his quill down dramatically, turning fully in his chair to gawk at you both. “Since when are you two... together?”

You exchanged a glance with Barty, who looked more amused than anything. “I dunno,” you said nonchalantly, “a few weeks, maybe?”

“A few weeks?!” James spluttered, his voice going up at least two octaves. He ran a hand through his already disastrous hair, looking utterly dumbfounded. “How– how did none of us know this?”

Barty gave an infuriatingly casual shrug, his smirk only growing wider. “Wasn’t exactly a secret. You lot were just too wrapped up in your own business to notice.”

“Too wrapped up?!” James looked at Regulus, as if his boyfriend might have some hidden answer to this impossible puzzle. Regulus, to his credit, had his head buried in his hands, looking both embarrassed and quietly amused. “Reggie, you didn’t notice?”

Regulus groaned, his face still hidden. “I noticed. I just didn’t want to talk about it.”

Sirius gaped at his brother. “You knew?”

“Well, I guessed, they're not exactly subtle,” Regulus muttered, still hiding behind his hands. “They bicker like they’re married.”

Remus, who had been laughing quietly this whole time, finally spoke up, his voice full of smug amusement. “He’s right, you know. The bickering should’ve been a dead giveaway.”

“Oh, come on,” James said, throwing his hands in the air. “Bickering is just– bickering! We bicker all the time! I bicker with Sirius – doesn’t mean I’m secretly dating him!”

“I should hope not,” Sirius muttered, still looking completely thrown. “You’re not my type.”

James blinked at him, momentarily sidetracked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Sirius said quickly, waving it off. “Focus, James! The issue here is this.” He gestured wildly between you and Barty. “This... thing they’ve apparently been doing under our noses for weeks.”

"I really think you lot are overreacting," you said, giving everyone a half-glare.

“I can't believe you kissed,” James said, as if just remembering it. “I mean... you kissed. Right there. In front of us. Our Y/N and Junior. Like it's no big deal.”

“It's not” you said, giving him a pointed look. “It’s called a relationship, Potter. People kiss in them.”

James shook his head, looking more confused than ever. “But you two have been acting the same as always! You don't even like each other! Actually, scratch that, you hate each other.”

Barty looked far too pleased with himself as he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “Oh, darling, you really don't know anything, do you?” he teased at the same time as you said, "And what about it?"

Sirius made a noise somewhere between a gag and a groan. “Ugh, stop. Just stop. This is making me nauseous.”

Remus was practically in tears now, wiping at his eyes as he continued to laugh. “This is... the best thing that's happened today.”

James looked positively ready to combust. "I am so confused." Regulus elbowed Sirius when he whispered what's new?

Barty leaned back again, his grin never faltering. “It's not our fault you were just too busy snogging Reggie here to notice.”

James immediately went red, and Regulus shot Barty a glare, though his lips were twitching with barely suppressed amusement. “Shut up.”

“Oh no, don’t let them turn this around on us,” Sirius cut in, pointing dramatically at you and Barty. “You two are the ones that have been lying this whole time!”

“We weren’t lying,” you said, your tone exasperated now. “You never asked. It’s not our fault you didn’t notice.”

Remus snorted. “To be fair, you do literally nothing to make it obvious. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were just flirting through arguments.”

“We are flirting through arguments,” Barty said matter-of-factly, earning a sharp look from you.

You jabbed a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “We are not.”

“We definitely are,” Barty fired back, looking far too pleased with himself. “You think of new ways to insult me every day, and I’ve never been more in love.”

There was an audible groan from Sirius. “Merlin’s beard, I am begging you to stop.”

James had dropped his head to the table by now, shaking it slowly like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “I can’t even process this. I need to lie down. Reg, tell me this isn’t happening.”

Regulus patted James awkwardly on the back. “It’s happening.”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air, officially reaching peak exasperation. “I feel betrayed. Absolutely betrayed. All these weeks – months, even – and no one thought to mention, ‘Oh hey, by the way, Barty and Y/N are snogging’?”

"Shagging," Barty corrected, to which you fully slapped his arm and Regulus winced.

“Disgusting.”

You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “I don't know what to tell you, Siri. It never came up.”

“Never came up?!” James lifted his head from his hands, looking utterly scandalised. “You’ve been dating for weeks and it never came up?”

“We didn’t feel the need to announce it to the world,” you shot back, now fully irritated with how much of a fuss they were making over this. “We were kind of busy with, you know, being in a relationship.”

“Exactly,” Barty chimed in, his grin back in place. “We were busy... prioritising.”

Regulus, still looking a little embarrassed but clearly entertained, shook his head. “You two are unbelievable.”

Sirius, ever the dramatist, leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I give up. Absolutely give up. The world makes no sense anymore.”

“Was it ever making sense to you to begin with?” Remus asked dryly, glancing over at him with a raised brow.

“Not the point, Moony,” Sirius muttered, still looking entirely put out. 

Barty shrugged again, looking far too relaxed considering the chaos he’d just unleashed. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I will never get used to this,” Sirius shot back, glaring at Barty like he’d personally offended him.

James let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping against the table. “I need a drink.”

“And I need new friends,” Sirius added, still shaking his head.

"What you need is to calm down," you muttered under your breath. Sirius's gasp told you that he heard you.

“I’m sorry for wanting to know when one of our friends is secretly dating a complete maniac.”

“Complete maniac?” Barty echoed, feigning hurt. “That’s harsh, Black. I prefer charming rascal.”

“I prefer punchable face." It would have been less convincing if you weren't smiling, leaning more and more into Barty's touch.

He grinned down at you and winked. “You can punch me anytime you wish, sweetheart. Make sure it bruises, ‘kay?"

“Oh, enough!” James looked like he might actually lose his mind at this point. “You’ve been complaining about me and Reg, but you two are so much worse.”

Remus, ever the voice of reason, shook his head with a faint smile. “Just let them be. This is obviously how they work. I’m sure we’ll all get used to it eventually.”

James and Sirius exchanged a look that clearly said we absolutely will not, but neither of them said anything. Instead, James let out a long, tired sigh and stood up, ruffling his hair as if to shake off the mental exhaustion of the day. “Right, I need a break from this madness. I’m going to the kitchens. Anyone want to come?”

“Definitely,” Sirius muttered, standing up as well. “I need some food to process this... tragedy.”

Regulus chuckled softly, standing to follow them. “I’ll come with you. Though I’m still not sure why you’re so shocked.”

The boys kept bickering and mumbling between them as they hastily gathered their things, while you made a sound between a scoff and a laugh, leaning into Barty. 

“Thank you for this gift,” Remus teased before throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “They will never recover it seems.”

You shook your head, but couldn’t help but smile at how much Remus had enjoyed the chaos. “You’re a bit sadistic, Lupin.”

“Only when it’s deserved,” Remus replied with a wink.

Barty stretched his arms behind his head, looking far too relaxed given the absolute meltdown that had just taken place. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way... care to finish that kiss?”

You shot him a glare, though your lips twitched upward. “You’re lucky I don’t leave you after the drama you’ve caused me.”

Barty grinned. “You wouldn’t dare. You like me too much.”

“You know, the fact that you two are dating somehow makes your bickering worse,” Remus said, still within airshot.

“We aim to please.”.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. “Come on, let’s get out of here before Sirius comes back with his 'and another thing's”

Barty stood up, offering you a hand with a smirk. “As you wish, love.”

You took his hand, but not without giving him a playful shove as you walked past him. “Keep talking, and I might change my mind.”

“I’d still win you over,” he replied, completely confident.

As you walked off together, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this chaos wasn’t such a bad thing after all. After all, you had Barty, and you were both having far too much fun watching everyone lose their minds over it.

[lov3notts]

Hi lovie I would like to know if it’s possible to have a pt for reopen wounds with Theodore

Fr the story was a 10/10 just like you

no way back

theodore nott x reader

summary: part 2 of reopened wounds. days after yours interaction with Theodore, he see's you flirting with another boy, after scaring the boy off you two fight. but in the heat of the argument Theo reveals a dark secret.

a/n: shout out to @iamgonnagetyouback love your genius brain. also inspired by other ask I got!! so to the anon who request a while back, your ask is the plot twist.

Navigation; masterlist; request rules; part 1; part 2; part3

The Hogwarts library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of parchment or the soft whispers of students deep in study. You sat at a small table in the corner, your head tilted slightly as you leaned toward Ethan, a Ravenclaw boy

He was cute, with tousled brown hair and a mischievous smile, his blue eyes sparkling with genuine interest. You’ve talked a few times before, but today, you could feel something different in the air. Maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, or maybe it was just the way he smiled when your hands brushed as he reached for his drink. Either way, it was undeniably flirty.

But what was even more undeniable was the figure who had been watching them from across the room.

Theodore

Across the room, He sat hunched over a Potions textbook, though he hadn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. His attention was fixed on you, the sight of you laughing with Ethan causing a sharp pang of jealousy to twist in his chest. He clenched his jaw, unable to look away as you leaned closer to the Ravenclaw boy.

Before he realized what he was doing, Theo slammed his book shut and strode across the library, his blue eyes dark with irritation.

Ethan’s laughter faltered when he noticed Theo’s towering figure looming over the table. "Uh… hi?" Ethan greeted nervously.

“Leave,” Theo said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan blinked, his confidence crumbling under Theo’s intimidating glare. "I—uh—"

"Now," Theo snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan glanced at you, who looked horrified. you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say a word, Ethan muttered something about needing to leave and scurried off.

"Theo-" you hissed, standing abruptly. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Just doing you a favor. That guy wasn’t worth your time."

"Are you serious right now?" you shouted, your voice echoing through the quiet library. "You don’t get to do that. We’re not together anymore. You have no right!"

your words hit him like a hex, but he refused to back down. "He was flirting with you, Y/N."

"And? So what if he was? At least he wasn’t pretending to care while flirting with every girl in the castle behind my back!"

Theo flinched, guilt flashing across his face. "That’s not fair—“

“like you know what fair is”

“He’s not good enough for you!” Theo argued, stepping closer to you.

you barked out a bitter laugh, your frustration boiling over. “Oh, right, because you were such a shining example of a boyfriend?”

“Don’t start with me, Y/N,” Theo warned, his tone low and sharp.

“No, let’s start, Theo,” you shot back, your voice rising. “Let’s talk about how you spent half our relationship flirting with other girls, like I wasn’t even there!”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were!” you interrupted, voice cracking. “You made me feel invisible! And now you’re standing here, acting like you still have a say in my life. Why, Theo? Why would you treat me like that when we were fine? When I thought we were happy?”

Theo’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Because I didn’t know how to deal with it, okay?!”

“Deal with what?” you demanded, your eyes blazing.

“With you!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. “With us! I didn’t want to feel anything for you, and I—” He stopped, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to rein in his emotions.

Your brows furrowed, heart pounding. “What are you talking about?”

Theo exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t supposed to be serious,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“What wasn’t supposed to be serious?” you pressed, stepping closer.

“It was just a bet!” The words burst out of him before he could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening. you blinked, your breath catching in your throat as his words sank in.

“A bet?” you echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

Theo’s eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. “Y/N, wait, I didn’t mean—”

“A bet?” you repeated, louder this time, your voice trembling. “Our relationship— me—I was just a bet?” You felt as if the ground beneath you had just crumbled away. Your heart shattered into a million pieces, and all the memories of your time together, the laughter, the stolen kisses, the quiet moments, all of it now felt like a cruel joke.

“No!” Theo shouted, reaching for you, but you stepped back, your hands shaking.

“It wasn’t like that, Y/N. It started as a bet, okay? A stupid, immature bet with my friends. But it changed. I actually fell for you, and I didn’t know how to handle it. So I kept flirting with other girls, convincing myself it wasn’t real—convincing myself that you didn’t matter."

you whispered, voice trembling. "Our entire relationship was a lie?"

"No!" he cried, stepping closer, his eyes pleading. "It wasn’t a lie, Y/N. I swear. I was an idiot—I was scared. But I love you. Please, believe me."

you shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “How am I supposed to believe that, Theo? How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

“Because I love you!” he cried, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to fall for you, but I did. I swear, Y/N, it stopped being a bet the second I got to know you.”

your laugh was bitter, hollow. “So what? I’m supposed to forget that the only reason you were with me in the first place was to win some stupid bet?”

“No,” he said, his own tears falling now. “I know I can’t ask that of you. But please, Y/N, I’m begging you. Don’t let this ruin everything we had. I’ll do anything. Just… please don’t walk away.”

you stared at him, your chest heaving with the weight of your heartbreak. You stepped back, shaking your head as tears streamed down your cheeks. “You don’t get it, do you?” you whispered. “Everything we had—everything I thought we had—is ruined. You didn’t just break my heart, Theo. You broke me.”

“Y/N, please,” he choked out, falling to his knees in front of you. “Please. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ll do anything.”

"Y/N," he choked, tears spilling from his own eyes, kneeling. "Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t walk away."

But you already were. your heart shattered as you left him there, sobbing in the middle of the library, broken and alone.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

VOTE FOR THE ENDING NOW

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @pumpkinchee @giovax @fandomreader @r6yven

[hy6erion]

Can I please- PLEASE request like a fluffy Jayce x reader…. I love this man feral as much as the next person but omg he has such good manners and is such a gentleman. Like obviously he’s popular in the academy but I wouldn’t be surprised if people fawn over like one time they bumped into him and he was super sweet about it. My brain can’t get rid of the idea of reader walking through the halls of the academy holding equipment/books- STRUGGLING. The things they are holding are too heavy or too tall for them to see over. When Jayce sees this he just can’t stand for it. When reader thanks him they comment on how sweet he is for helping and there’s just something about the way they said it that makes him need more. Jayce now finds himself glancing around when he should be paying attention to the important conversation just in case he sees them rounding the corner needing his help again. Wet dog coded man I just UGGHH- Sorry if this is boring as fuck I just can’t cook with prompts-

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝?

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

The Academy’s corridors always buzzed with movement, especially around midterms. A storm of students swept between classrooms with stacks of parchment, vials, and gear tucked under arms or magically levitating just inches from their shoulders. But even in that organized chaos, you stood out.

Not for anything dramatic—there were no explosions or golden runes trailing in your wake like some prodigious student of Hextech.

No, it was the way you struggled.

The stack of textbooks and equipment in your arms was too tall, teetering as you shuffled along, eyes completely hidden behind bindings and brass. A rolled schematic slipped a few centimeters out of place with every step. One wrong movement and you’d trigger an academic avalanche across the entire main hallway.

Jayce saw you out of the corner of his eye. He had been half-listening to a conversation about research funding—something he should care about. Professors, student body reps, all of them standing around in a little knot in front of the glass exhibit. But when you passed, laboring under a ridiculous amount of gear, your boot catching slightly on the lip of a stair—

He was gone before he even realized he’d stepped away.

“Woah—hey! Let me help with that” Jayce called, already reaching out to catch the top book before it tumbled.

You froze, startled, and then someone was lifting the stack clean out of your arms. Blessed weightlessness. You blinked through the space that had just been an impenetrable wall of pages and polished metal.

Jayce Talis.

Up close, he was even more golden than rumors suggested. Tousled hair, stupidly symmetrical face, and broad shoulders that made you acutely aware of how lopsided your bag was. He grinned, cocky but warm, holding your mountain of items like it weighed nothing.

“You were about two seconds from being buried alive“ he said, amusement dancing in his voice. “This for a project or are you training for a weightlifting competition?”

Your face flushed. “It’s—uh. Both? I mean—no. It’s for my Hex Design course. We have to submit schematics and physical models, and Professor Ghiren doesn’t believe in carts apparently.”

Jayce’s brow rose. “Ghiren? Yikes. That explains a lot.”

You laughed softly, and the sound tugged at something behind his ribs.

“Thanks“ you said, quieter now, but with a weight behind it that didn’t match the airy words. “You’re really sweet for helping.”

Sweet.

No one ever called Jayce that.

Brilliant? Sure. Talented? Absolutely. Arrogant? Frequently. But the way you said sweet—so genuine, almost in awe, like you weren’t just thanking him for help, but surprised by the kindness itself…

It landed somewhere deep in his chest. Settled there.

Jayce blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. That wasn’t like him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course. Uh—want me to walk you to your lab?”

You gave a hesitant nod. “Only if it’s not a bother…”

“Not at all“ he said, already matching pace beside you. “You might need backup if Ghiren has you carting any more cursed prototypes.”

⸻

The whole thing took maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes of small talk, of you fumbling with your badge to open the lab door while Jayce carried your work like some personal bodyguard of academia. Ten minutes where he laughed at your commentary about your finicky prototype, and you—well, you smiled like you hadn’t expected him to understand what you were talking about. Like you were used to being brushed off.

When he handed the last of your equipment onto a cluttered table and left you with a casual wave and a “see you around” he told himself it was over. A nice moment. A good deed.

But—

Later, back at a student council meeting, his eyes flicked toward the door every time it opened.

Just in case it was you again.

Just in case you were overloaded, drowning in heavy boxes, needing a hand and smiling at him like that.

It became a pattern. Jayce would walk the long way to class under the pretense of “clearing his head”—but really, it was the hallway where he’d met you. He started recognizing the way your laugh echoed off stone walls, the exact squeak of your lab shoes. Sometimes you passed him in the halls with your head down, still juggling too many things, and his hand would twitch at his side, aching to take the weight again.

He didn’t even realize how obvious it was until Viktor elbowed him during a lecture.

“You’re doing it again.”

Jayce jerked his head back toward the front. “Doing what?”

“Looking for them“ Viktor said without missing a beat, voice dry. “Should I start building you a radar? Something to track when your favorite hallway gremlin is in distress?”

Jayce flushed. “I’m not—! I mean, I’m just—helping.”

Viktor hummed. “Sure. And I’m a seven-foot enforcer from Zaun.”

Jayce tried to ignore him, but it only got worse after the second time you needed help. He’d been in the courtyard, getting coffee, when he saw you wrestling with a crate of raw materials clearly meant for three people.

He crossed the entire quad in seconds.

“You again” he said, out of breath and smiling.

Your eyes lit up. “Jayce! You really are everywhere.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing” he grinned, taking the crate.

It was dangerous, the way you looked at him after that. Fond. Grateful. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t tease him about being famous, didn’t act like it was some passing favor. Just looked at him, said something like “You’re always so kind to me“ and smiled like he’d done something extraordinary.

Jayce could invent ten new technologies and he still wouldn’t feel as proud as he did in those moments.

⸻

Now, he doesn’t even pretend.

He lingers near the workshop halls when he knows your class is ending. Spends too long “testing” things on the lab floor just in case you walk by.

And when you do—

“Need a hand?”

Every single time, like clockwork. And every time, you let him. Your arms let go of the weight, and he carries it for you like it’s sacred. Like it’s the only thing that matters.

One time, you laugh and say, “You know, I think I’m starting to count on you being there.”

Jayce swallows hard. “Good. I want you to.”

You blink up at him.

“Want me to… what?”

“Count on me,” he says, too soft, too real. “Anytime.”

[kathryn-maraudersversion]

The Serpents and Stars Pt 11

Summary: You’ve somehow found yourself in the middle of a Gryffindor-Slytherin girls’ night. There’s lingering tension, playful rivalry, and a surprising amount of laughter. Maybe this whole “friendship” thing isn’t so bad after all. Pairing: Poly!Marauders (James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin) x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11

You weren’t entirely sure how this had happened but then again now days you weren’t sure about most things.

One moment, you were in the library with the Gryffindor Girls, and the next, you were being dragged into the Gryffindor common room for what Mary Macdonald had called a “proper girls’ night.”

“Not that I don’t love being kidnapped,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms, “but why am I here?”

Marlene McKinnon grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders like you weren’t still debating whether to hex her or not. “Because, love, we’ve decided you’re fun when you’re not being a terrifying Slytherin menace.”

Pandora laughed. “That’s actually a compliment coming from her.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered.”

Dorcas smirked. “Both, probably.”

The Gryffindor common room felt wrong. It was too warm, too golden, too full of roaring laughter. The red-and-gold decor clashed horribly with your green-and-silver uniform, making you feel like you stuck out even more than usual. But then Mary shoved a mug of butterbeer into your hands, and Marlene flopped onto the couch beside you, and Lily of all people tossed a blanket in your direction, and suddenly, it didn’t feel as suffocating.

It felt… comfortable.

Unfortunately, comfortable did not mean peaceful.

“Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” Marlene declared, pointing at you with a mischievous grin. “If you’re gonna be part of our group, we need to discuss the most important topic of all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“How you’re so bloody pretty,” Mary said bluntly, tilting her head.

You blinked. “What.”

“No, seriously,” Lily added, narrowing her eyes as if she were studying you. “It’s actually unfair.”

Dorcas, smirked. “Told you.”

You stared at them, unsure whether to feel flattered or deeply uncomfortable. “Are we really just sitting here and-”

Pandora cut you off with a dramatic sigh. “It’s true, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were part Veela.”

You groaned, sinking further into the couch. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s facts,” Mary countered.

“Complete facts,” Marlene agreed.

Lily just shrugged. “Honestly, I can see why the Marauders are obsessed with you.”

That caught your attention. You stiffened, your grip tightening on your mug. “They’re not obsessed with me.”

Mary wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, love, they so are.”

“They adore you,” Pandora added, nudging you playfully.

You huffed. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Dorcas said smugly.

You threw a pillow at her.

That was the beginning of the chaos.

“Alright,” Marlene said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s settle something important. Who throws better parties Gryffindor or Slytherin?”

“Are you joking?” You scoffed. “Slytherin. Obviously.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Please. Gryffindor parties are legendary.”

“Legendary for being loud and completely disorganized,” Dorcas shot back.

Mary gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “You wound me.”

Pandora smirked. “She’s not wrong, though.”

Marlene huffed. “Alright, fine. What about Quidditch?”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Gryffindor has James Potter.”

“And?”

“And that’s your whole argument.”

Lily snorted into her butterbeer. “She’s got a point.”

Mary waved her hands. “No, no, no. Gryffindors are braver than Slytherins. That’s not even a debate.”

“Oh?” You leaned forward, eyes glinting with challenge. “Braver? Or stupider?”

Marlene grinned. “Both, probably.”

Dorcas smirked. “Both, definitely.”

Lily groaned. “This was a terrible idea.”

“I told you inviting Slytherins in here was going to be a mistake,” Mary said dramatically.

“Oh, come on,” Pandora said, nudging her. “You love us.”

Mary sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

The conversation drifted from rivalry to gossip to ridiculous hypotheticals. At one point, Marlene and Dorcas got into a heated debate about the best way to sneak out of detention, while Pandora and Lily tried to convince Mary that no, sneaking into the Forbidden Forest for fun was not a good idea.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, you realized you weren’t just tolerating their presence.

You liked it.

Maybe, against all odds, this ridiculous mix of Gryffindors and Slytherins could actually work.

And then it was the next week and you were still hanging out with them it started with a friendly game of Wizard’s Chess.

Which quickly turned unfriendly.

“You’re cheating,” Marlene accused, narrowing her eyes at Pandora.

Pandora blinked, all innocent smiles. “Cheating? Me? Never.”

Dorcas snorted. “Oh, she’s definitely cheating.”

You smirked, watching the game unfold from the couch. “And yet, you lot insisted Gryffindors were better at games.”

Mary grinned. “Marlene’s just a sore loser.”

“I am not,” Marlene huffed, crossing her arms. “I just strongly dislike losing.”

“You always lose at chess,” Dorcas pointed out.

“Not the point.”

Pandora hummed, casually moving her knight. “Checkmate.”

Marlene groaned. “I hate you.”

Dorcas blew her a kiss, while Pandora said, “No, you don’t.”

You watched the whole exchange with an amused smirk. There was something strangely comforting about it all like you weren’t a Slytherin sitting in the Gryffindor common room, but just… a girl surrounded by friends.

That thought was only slightly terrifying.

Unfortunately, the peace didn’t last long because, of course, the Marauders had to show up.

The entrance to the common room burst open with a dramatic BANG, and James Potter strolled in like he owned the place. “Ladies! You are all looking particularly radiant tonight.”

Sirius followed, grinning as he leaned against the doorway. “What he means is, we were bored, and Lily wasn’t answering her summons.”

Lily sighed. “Because I was ignoring your summons.”

Remus, looking much more apologetic, stepped in behind them. “I did warn them not to intrude.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “And yet, here they are.”

James flopped onto the couch beside you with zero shame. “We missed you.”

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. “And we were curious about what exactly you lot have been doing.”

Dorcas smirked. “Plotting against you.”

Sirius gasped, hand over his heart. “You wound me, Meadows.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s coming later.”

Sirius grinned. “Merlin, I love when you talk like that.”

Mary gagged. “Get a room.”

Remus sighed, rubbing his temple. “What are we actually doing?”

Pandora perked up. “Drinking game?”

Lily groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Marlene grinned. “Truth or dare?”

Sirius’ eyes gleamed. “Now that I can get behind.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Are you sure, Black? I play ruthlessly.”

James grinned. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The game started innocently enough.

Remus was dared to charm his hair bright pink (which, to be fair, suited him). Marlene had to serenade a very unimpressed Lily. Pandora admitted to accidentally setting off fireworks in the Slytherin common room last year.

But then, of course, it escalated.

Dorcas smirked; eyes locked onto you. “Alright, y/n. Truth or dare?”

You met her gaze evenly. “Dare.”

Her smirk widened. “I dare you… to sit on Sirius’ lap for the next two rounds.”

Sirius, ever the dramatic one, grinned like Christmas had come early. “Oh, please say yes.”

James cackled. “Oh, this is excellent.”

You rolled your eyes, but the challenge was already set. So, with the most bored expression you could muster, you stood, walked over to Sirius, and gracefully dropped onto his lap.

He let out a very dramatic sigh. “This is the best day of my life.”

Mary gagged again. “You’re all disgusting.”

Remus just pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is chaos.”

And it was.

But it was your chaos.

Authors Note: lord have mercy on me but I am obssesed with the girls.

Taglist: @amatoanima @nymanas @flaviaandbooks @bridkesby @yvessentials @maraudersgirlsposts @treefairy-28 @navs-bhat @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @zoleea-exultant @hermionelove @starmaniii @kitcat912 @hopperbopper @forgottenandfree @b-i-h-i @nahhoz @jillyun @mysexy-anxiety @msmarklee1213 @luv-wonyoungism @bellatrixscurls @psychobitchsthings @chicken-flux @marina468 @sherwoodforesttales

[tackykachowch]

Silco was set up to be Fishbones from the start

Disclaimer: I won't take season 2 into account At All, because it can't work with setups and payoffs even if its life depends on it.

Alrighty. As we've seen Season 1 paid a lot of attention to set up canon things from LoL into the show as naturally and logically as possible, and at least from my point of view, it handled the job with flying colors. Jayce's hammer, Vi's gauntlets, Vander/Warwick etc, nothing felt out of place. But how does Silco fit into this at all? Let's get down to business to defeat the huns

First of all, what even is Fishbones? In the canon of LoL, it's one of if not the most iconic weapon Jinx has. And it is not only a weapon to her, but a loyal and "beloved" companion, as it's described in one of her skins. She constantly talks to it, and in contrast to her chaotic and impulsive nature, Fishbones is very pragmatic and calm. Sounds like a certain someone, doesn't it? But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

But how does Silco go from being Jinx's father to one of her weapons? There are a lot of points that support that actually, I was surprised myself ngl.

- Silco is the only character in the entire series who is directly and tightly connected to water and underwater creatures. Silco was "reborn" in the water when Vander tried to kill him, the first office he had was placed under the water, with a huge observational window. Silco is also fond of underwater creatures, and while other people call and see them as monsters, Silco pays no attention to it, as he thinks that there's "a monster inside all of us". And here's Fishbones, who is designed after a shark, arguably the most famous "underwater monster". But what is more interesting is that it debuted is the finale of season 1, which is titled "The monster you created". Quite a throughline there.

- Silco was the reason behind Fishbones' creation in the first place. While it does seem that it all started with Jinx, who stole the hex gemstone on the Progress Day, we also need to remember WHY she did it. She did it to impress Silco specifically, to make him to be proud of her. This want was triggered by her screwing up the smuggling mission earlier that day, and while Silco didn't scold her for it much and only advised her to rest for a bit, she saw this as him thinking that she's weak. So, after all of this Silco asks Jinx to make a weapon with the use of gemstone. Not necessarily to use it against Piltover, but to have it as a wild card if his plans go wrong. Jinx agrees and attempts to reverse engineer it, but it triggers her memories when she killed Mylo and Claggor with her bomb, so she tells Silco that she can't do it. He then goes to the river he was nearly killed in with her, and "baptises" her to help her let go of her fear of pain. This seemed to have worked, at least for a little while, because she managed to finish the weapon. So, in conclusion: Fishbones' creation was triggered by Jinx's want to impress Silco, and he helped her with its creation on every step of the way.

- this point is somewhat meta, but I'll use it anyway. In previously mentioned episode 9 Silco tells Jinx that everybody around them betrays them, and they have only each other to love and lean on. He says, quote: "Everyone betrays us, Jinx. Vander, her. It's only us". At the same time, in LoL Jinx says this line to Fishbones: "It's just you and me, Fishbones!". Well.....it's certainly a callback if I've seen one. Like- it's not even funny. They couldn't have written this line on accident.

- now onto the most interesting part for me personally. We all now that there are no accidents in animation, like. At all. Even if there are this is extremely rare, as every frame is created intentionally. Now, we do now that there are quite. A few discrepancies between writers and animators of arcane, but I don't think this applies in this particular case. Now onto the actual point. So, in the finale of season 1 Jinx kills Silco, and it's shown to us like this.

He's turned with right side ("human") of his face to the camera, while the left side ("monster") side is hidden.

As Jinx fires Fishbones at the council

It's positioned with its right side to the camera, which alignes with Silco's "monster eye". Also, Fishbone's eye has a black scar pattern around its eye, which again, resembles Silco's damadged eye. That could mean that Silco is once again "reborn", and now continues to live on in the monster Jinx created.

And here comes the most awesome part in all of this. When Silco adopts Powder, he hugs her and tells her

Do you see how the frame is positioned? Exactly. It is exactly the same framing scene with Jinx and Fishbones has. And, most importantly, when Jinx pulls the trigger, we hear the exactly same line on the background: "We will show them all". It simultaneously shows: that Jinx's attack on the council is her way of dealing with grief of killing Silco; her way of honoring Silco's fight against Piltover; and a direct transition of Silco into Fishbones. Although he's dead in body, but Jinx's memories of him and his voice now continue to live in Fishbones, her new eternal companion.

I am at awe with the fundamental work that's been done with this setup, and although s2 never followed up on this, I still can get enjoyment from the clear intent creators put here originally.

[girlberrie]

i'll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies

yeah, awesome, right?

                             ( homemade dynamite, lorde )

                          🂱           golden trio reality introduction………..:::

       born to ada tombs and a father of unknown whereabouts on the 26th of july 1980, alie tombs has always had the soul of an adventurer. the metamorphmagus would always find a way to wander off, which her mother got used to only after the girl (at the age of eight) had gone off to investigate some shiny pebbles on the pavement for the tenth time in the week (it was tuesday). alie has never been a good friend for the faint of the heart——always purposefully inserting herself into some mess, some sort of adventure, and laughing in the concerned faces of her loved ones afterwards.

‘i wouldn’t have done it if i was unprepared!’ she would exclaim.

well, alie, your mother who has barely lived a third of her very long witch lifespan doesn’t know that, does she? …………………..moving on.

alie has always seemed like she was a little bit of god a little bit of angel and a little bit of human combined. she has always been powerful and she has always been weird as fuck. ‘she talks to the bloody bugs in the bloody forbidden forest!’ said ron weasley, probably. ‘leave her be!’ responded hermione granger or luna lovegood in wildly different tones, probably. the girl is so keen on mapping the entire forbidden forest that she created a spell to read her books out loud to only her so that she can get into trouble without losing out on reading time. she has incredible potential to be a prankster, which the weasley twins definitely plan on doing something with. she loves a little bit of a curse, a little bit of a hex, a jinx, which draco malfoy unfortunately knows about (she hates his guts! for good reason too!).

she is also ridiculously curious about most things for a gryffindor, which caught the attention of one tom riddle (more on that later). she wants to study whatever magic has to offer, similar to how physicists study subatomic particles in CERN. she wants to investigate all things archaic, to explore, to understand….. it is no surprise that she wants to be an archeologist (or curse breaker. more or less the same thing. more on that later too, but perhaps another day).

despite the divided opinions on her personality, most can agree that she is free in a way most people aren’t: she does whatever she wants and makes sure nobody can say anything about it. how people say it….. well that differs. professor snape prefers the word ‘impertinent’. her best friends, ron and hermione prefer ‘daring’. her arch-nemesis tom riddle prefers ‘reckless’ or ‘headstrong’ or ‘madcap’. he finds her amusing. actually, lets get onto whatever’s going on with those two, shall we?

    you see, alie tombs met draco malfoy at madam malkin’s robes for all occasions in diagon alley before even getting on the train to hogwarts and promptly decided that she would NOT be sorted into slytherin, against all odds if needed. and the odds were that the sorting hat was very keen on sorting her into the damn snake den, but she said ‘no’ and the hat miraculously listened. what does this have anything to do with tom riddle and alie tombs, you say? well. tom riddle has slytherin energy vibrating out of his every single strand of hair perfectly gelled into place. and alie tombs? well, you would never think that the hat wanted her in slytherin——she is courageous and determined like nobody else. tom and alie? they’ve always butted heads. not in the way draco and alie have, no, this has always meant a bit more. always striking up an argument in the hallways, trying to one up each other in classes, irritating each other willingly so that they can have the others eye on them for longer, to have each others attention for a couple more minutes. they’ve been obsessed with each other for longer than they like to admit.

she likes his hair and his stupid smug smirk and hates his hair and stupid smug smirk. she wants to punch him with a kiss. she wants to make him trip with a jinx so that she can see his exasperatedly-amused-but-also-slightly-irritated face. she wants to say a bold-faced-lie to him just to see him raise that perfect eyebrow and to have him amusedly question her with that tone of his that annoys her so much. he likes her pretty laughter and the mischief that twinkles in her eyes and hates her pretty laughter and the mischief that twinkles in her eyes. he wants to cast the tickling charm on her just to hear her shocked laughter and to face the brunt of her prickly attitude afterwards. its all very lovesick and obsessive and they’re annoying freaks for the rest of hogwarts castle, because how are they not fucking already???????

let us pray that they get their shit together soon. there are many bets placed already .

.

  .

    .

      .

        .

          .

the dumbass but also very smart, reckless but somehow formulates plans from a to z the moment things go terribly wrong, favorite colour is pink but her patronus is a crow energy of my dr self is quite difficult to write, but here’s to hoping that this introduction was nice enough. i got inspired and wanted to share a bit about it hahah. i’ve been focusing a lot on my other hogwarts reality on this tumblr but i can never forget this reality. i’m genuinely unhinged here. its very fun. i’ll be signing off now…………… BYE

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What profession do you see Harry in? When I was younger I was adamant he would have been a professor. After reading the book again in my late 20’s I can’t see it anymore. I think he would have been a Auror because solving mysteries and catching felons would intrigue him more than dealing with a bunch of students grading papers. I think he would get bored and would resign after a year or two. I know people who love professor Harry love pointing out him teaching in Dumbledore’s Army and I think people forget he only had to do the practical part, not the theory aspect. I can’t image him reading multiple essays on the same topic. It would drive him bonkers. (Hermione would be in cloud 9 though). I love teaching my nephew and his friends how to play soccer, would I ever take it as a profession? Never. It’s a part time passion not a career. Im sure he made surprise visits to Hogwarts as a guest lecturer but that’s it. In an AU where Jily lived I could see Harry becoming a quidditch player or even taking a liking to potions because of his mom who didn’t put the bitter taste in his mouth like Snape. In canon the only two careers I could see holding his attention is curse breaker and being an Auror, purely because of the mystery of solving puzzles and being on his feet. The one thing I still agree with my younger self is Harry would have returned for his 8th year and so would have Ron. I think he needs a year to just be a kid who sneaks around the castle exploring different corridors to make out with Ginny. 

Well, I do like the idea of Harry returning to teach DADA at Hogwarts, as I mentioned here, here & here. Though, an anon did bring up a cool idea for Harry to be more of a private investigator than an auror for a few years before becoming a DADA professor. I just don't see Harry as someone who'd be good at receiving orders and working within the ministry. Like, with everything that happened with the ministry in the final 3 books, I find it kinda insane Harry chooses to work there after we spent 3+ books going over how corrupt and ineffectual they are and how much Harry dislikes it. It just feels iffy to me.

I think Harry would surprise you with his patience, honestly. I think he is very capable of reading dozens of essays about the same thing and grading them. Like, the fandom likes to forget it, but Harry read all his course books before first year:

Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. 

(PS)

He does do reading and research on his own and with Hermione when he needs/wants to:

There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. Harry still hadn’t mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes.

(GoF)

Harry was already hurrying up the spiral staircase to his dormitory. . . . He would grab the Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he’d stay there all night if he had to. ... “Lumos,” Harry whispered fifteen minutes later as he opened the library door. Wand tip alight, he crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books — books of hexes and charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, books on famous witches and wizards, on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to underwater survival. He carried them over to a table, then set to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally checking his watch. ...

(GoF)

Harry is so capable of sitting down and grading essays if he wants to. He's actually not averse to studying and reading at all, not on his own. He's just mirroring Ron and the other Gryffindor boys to fit in because it's what Harry does.

He'd be one of the teachers who give bonus points if a student writes something funny in their essay, I just know it.

Also, even for the DA, he actually made lesson plans:

Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts, which had superb, moving color illustrations of all the counterjinxes and hexes it described. Harry flicked through the first volume eagerly; he could see it was going to be highly useful in his plans for the D.A.

Like, he read through Defence books and organized plans for spells to teach, in what order, and how to teach them. Harry spends a lot of time thinking about the DA in his head in OotP. About the successes of his students that he feels so proud of but also when he's gonna do the next meeting and what he'd teach.

90% of his DADA professors can't say the same.

Also, Harry actually kept track of the state of every student and applied the teaching method best for them and didn't pick favorites:

They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of “Impedimenta!” People froze for a minute or so, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx. Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron and Hermione again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. When he passed Cho she beamed at him; he resisted the temptation to walk past her several more times.

(OotP)

Like, the fact he wanted to pay more attention to Cho and then didn't because he knows that's not what he should do as a teacher is already better than a good chunk of Hogwarts professors (McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, and Slughorn all clearly have favorites).

Like, Harry is putting into the DA more effort than just showing them practically what they need to do. He spends all his lessons with Umbridge thinking about the DA. He reads and studies so he can teach them better. He put a lot of effort into it.

Not to mention Harry was dealing with the DA that included about 30 members compared to the average Hogwarts class, where a professor only needs to manage 20 students in the classroom.

As for 8th year. Yeah, I like to think he comes back. I think it'll be a good healing opportunity for him. Though, I personally do not envision him making out with Ginny since I don't like Hinny. But the idea is that the poor boy needs a break.

[minor-solemnity]

Truth Will Out

Tag List: @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey@naps-and-lemons @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute

Content warning: Smut, light bdsm, power dynamics and a questionable use of veritaserum

A companion piece to Tender, We Lay Bound

His smile turns wolfish at the slight tremor in your voice and he cocks his head to one side, the hand that isn’t holding the vial, moving slowly up your calf, up the curve of your knee before flattening across the meat of your thigh and stroking the sensitive junction where your thigh meets your pubic bone. “Do you trust me?” He asks, which isn’t exactly an answer, but you think that’s maybe the point.

It starts, as most things with Tom do, with a hand on your lower back and his voice, soft and low in your ear, “I’d like to try something tonight.” It’s really incredibly unfair that he chooses the moment when you’re about to walk into Potions to whisper this to you because now you’re going to be distracted all through your assessed brewing of Veritaserum. Judging by the smirk that curls Tom’s lips as he takes his place next to you at the front of the class, he’s fully aware of this. He lays his equipment down neatly in front of him, looking for all the world, like every teacher’s wet dream: prepared, inquiring, and engaged in the lesson. You know him better though, you know that he’s actually the devil incarnate, and is currently enjoying your flustered attempts to pay attention to what Slughorn’s saying about the forthcoming lesson.

Slughorn waves his hand to signal for you all to start gathering ingredients and Tom leaves to fetch the things you’ll both need. You’ve been brewing your batch of Veritaserum for the past month and today will reveal whether or not you’ve succeeded. The mark you get in for this potion will count for a family large portion of your overall grade, and it’s a good thing that you’re partnered with Tom, because whilst you might be one of the best in the class, your mind is so far from the task at hand that you know you’ll be relying on him for most of the more focussed aspects of the brewing today. You also know that Tom is probably cognizant of this fact and planned it as such.

Damn him. If he didn’t make you so weak at the knees, you’d have hexed him by now.

“Was that really necessary?” You ask when he returns, snatching the caladium root out of his hands. You start shredding the delicate roots with a little more force than is probably good for them, and besides you, Tom tsks.

“I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you should be a little gentler with those,” He gestures to the roots. “We wouldn’t want to do poorly on this test because you’re a little riled up, would we?” Gods, you hate it when he teases you. Well, no, that’s a lie. Most of the time you love it when he teases you, but usually, you’re not in a Potions class with half your grade hanging over your head.

He chuckles lowly at your expression which is one of annoyance and indignity and spends most of the rest of the class alluding to the plans he has for you whilst expertly managing your potion so you can continue to daydream about what he might mean. It doesn’t escape your notice that Tom pours an extra vial of the Veritaserum when the time comes to present Slughorn with your finished product. He slips the extra into his pocket and raises a finger to his lips before you can question him.

You manage to avoid Tom for the rest of the day, which is good for your sanity for two reasons: firstly, whenever he had spotted you, he had given you a knowing look and found a way to touch you that from an outsider perspective would look entirely innocent but had left you dizzy with anticipation and unable to focus on anything other than the mysterious things he had in store for you. Secondly, and you’ll never admit this to him, your overactive imagination has run away with itself fantasising about the night ahead, and the way that he looks at you makes you think that he somehow knows exactly what you're thinking. You’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of his smirks and wry hums of amusement.

***

Of all the evenings for Tom to be busy with his Head Boy duties, it obviously has to be today. You’re fairly sure he’s planned it like this because you know him well enough by now to know that that he likes it when you’re a little on edge. His desire for control and power over the people he surrounds himself with manifests itself in multiple ways: with his friends, he leads with an iron fist, viewing disobedience as a betrayal; with his professors, he charms and manipulates until he has them wrapped around his little finger; with you, it’s slightly different. Your family, whilst not doing badly, cannot open doors for him the way the Maylfoy’s can, and you’re smart, but not outrageously so, so the impetus to use you for your talents isn’t there either. When Tom tells you that he wants you for your company and your companionship, you believe him. No, with you, his want for control manifests in slow touches, whispered commands, and a desire to see you fall apart in a way you refuse to do for anyone else.

His dormitory is empty when you enter, which is hardly a surprise; his roommates know when to make themselves scarce and to leave you privacy. You take a moment to gather your wits and to try and calm your nerves before you take a seat in the centre of his bed. The minutes tick by excruciatingly slowly, and you fight with your school tie, trying to guess if he would like it if he found you naked and waiting or if he wants the pleasure of undressing you himself. It all depends on his mood which can as mercurial and changing as the tides. You settle on a compromise, more because you’re impatient and excited and restless. You abandon your robes, leave your tie on the desk beside the bed, and unbutton the first three buttons of your shirt before settling back against the soft pillows and try to focus on the book you’ve brought with you.

The door clicks open and shut and you startle at the noise. Tom leans against the doorframe, half-hidden in shadow, a tempting and dangerous sight as he appraises you slowly. You swallow around your nerves, and your throat constricts as he loosens his ties and walks over to you, predatory and sleek, like some sort of wild cat, all tightly controlled power ready to be unleashed. It makes your mouth water.

He more or less crawls up the bed and you let your legs fall open to accommodate him. He reaches forwards and cups your jaw in his hand, his fingers splaying so that he cradles your head and you instinctively press your face into his hand, seeking contact and heat and protection. “Have you been waiting for me for all this time?” He says and you nod, eyes slitting to watch his pleased smile at your response. “Good girl. Are you ready for me?”

“I thought you might like to take care of that,” You murmur and you can’t deny the way excitement leaks into your voice. He hums approvingly and pulls away, just a for a moment as he reaches inside his robe to retrieve a small vial of clear liquid. Your eyes widen slightly at the Veritaserum dangling delicately between his fingers. “Is that what I think it is?”

His smile turns wolfish at the slight tremor in your voice and he cocks his head to one side, the hand that isn’t holding the vial, moving slowly up your calf, up the curve of your knee before flattening across the meat of your thigh and stroking the sensitive junction where your thigh meets your pubic bone. “Do you trust me?” He asks, which isn’t exactly an answer, but you think that’s maybe the point. Tom has a strange thing about trust; he likes it when you prove your loyalty to him. Drinking a potion where you’re not entirely sure what the effects will be is definitely something you can see him enjoying.

Slowly, hesitatingly, you nod and he pushes you back against the pillows. He brushes his thumb against your lower lip and pushes two fingers inside your mouth. Heat and desire lick like flames across your skin and your thighs clench in anticipation and need. He lets you run your tongue over them, suck them slowly before he removes them and pinches your chin to keep your mouth open as he pours a few drops onto your outstretched tongue. “That’s it, such a good girl for me,” He says, barely more than a whisper in the heavy silence that surrounds you. His eyes are dark with want and gratification, and he begins to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing smooth, pale skin that you want to lick.

He leans over you and kisses your jaw and trails bruising kisses against your neck, humming softly when you gasp. “Do you want me to touch you?” He murmurs into your skin and the potion, which you can now confirm was Veritaserum, works its magic and you feel a compulsion to answer.

“Yes, please, I want—” Your words are cut off by a low moan as he brushes his fingers over your underwear which are already damp with your desire for him.

“So wet for me, already.” He’s playing with you at such a leisurely pace that your pleasure is mingled with frustration but when you try to shift your hips closer he pushes you back against the mattress. “So impatient, tell me, darling, how do you want me to touch you?”

You begin to realise exactly why he wanted to use the Veritaserum because you want so many things, you want his fingers and his mouth, you want him to kiss you, to undress you, to play with you until you can’t think let alone talk. These are not uncommon wants when it comes to Tom, but you’re normally too embarrassed to voice them to him, no matter how much he enjoys listening. Now, with the Veritaserum, it’s as though your voice acts without you telling it to, the words tumbling from your lips unbidden and a deep flush rises up your chest and neck as you whimper, “I want… I want you to take my clothes off now, and I-I want you to, fuck, I want your mouth.” You feel overexposed and vulnerable admitting this to him and your eyes are squeezed shut tight because even looking at him is too much right now.

He rewards you for your forced honesty by giving you exactly what you asked for, peeling your underwear down your legs and burying his head between your thighs, lapping at your folds like a parched man. It’s glorious, it always is and soon your clothes are discarded and you keep babbling away, asking and requesting until you’re incoherent. Even though he is the one acquiescing to your every whimpered desire, Tom is still firmly in control. Every sentence out of his mouth is framed as a question, forcing you to answer honestly even when it makes you blush and squirm. Every one of your fantasies is laid out in front of him and the fact that he could ask you anything and you would be compelled to answer truthfully is never far from your mind.

“Look at you, if only you could see yourself,” Tom mutters, his voice rough with exertion, sweat beading in the dips of his collarbones as he pushes you against the pillows, one of his hands reaching and pinning both of your wrists above your head. “Do you like the sound of that? Would you like to see me fuck you? Do you want to see how wrecked you look?”

“Yes.”

Neither of you lasts very long after that. You cling to him desperately, your legs locked tightly around his waist as his breathing grows erratic. Your entire world is narrowed down to Tom and the feeling of his body moving against yours. Everything feels strangely floaty and distant, yet still incredibly intense as if your mind and body can’t quite comprehend what’s happening and is just rolling in sensation and emotion and feeling. The heat that had encompassed you before he even entered the room grows hotter and the flames of your desire burn brighter. You feel your orgasm build low in your belly, a tight ball of tangled nerves that snowballs and crashes over you as you shake with barely contained need. Tom grips your hip, pulling you somehow closer, and licks a wet stripe between the valley of your breasts, his teeth catch your earlobe and you shudder with overstimulation. He lasts another three strokes before he comes with a shaky gasp, his lips brushing yours.

For a moment after, you just lay there, a tangle of limbs and sweat and body heat. Eventually, though, he rolls off of you, and you stretch your aching limbs before snuggling into the duvet. It’s when he passes you a small vial of a swirling grey-silver liquid that what you’ve just done truly hits you. You swallow the antidote hastily and the empty vial falls from your grasp. You feel suddenly overwhelmed and strangely bereft. Blindly, you reach for Tom, searching him out for contact and comfort and reassurance.

“I… Was that okay?” You ask unable to hide your worry that you’ve somehow let him down. Tom immediately moves to wrap you in his arms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.

He tilts your head to face him and his eyes search yours, a small frown marring his forehead. “Darling, you were perfect,” He murmurs, seemingly understanding implicitly what you’re really asking. He tucks you closer and presses his lips to your cheek. Considering what you’ve just been doing, it’s all very chaste. “Come here, let me look after you.”

Feeling slightly more relaxed, you bury your head against his chest and allow him to do just that.

A/N: So this is a companion piece to Tender We Lay Bound. Obviously, you don’t need to read that for this to make sense, but I wanted to explore the power dynamics that would lead to the aftercare in that fic. I wanted to say here that the characters here trust and love each other, but this is honestly pretty bad BDSM etiquette and a seriously under-negotiated kink and scene. Obvs, this is fiction, so whatever, they’re all good and happy, but all kinks should be negotiated and discussed and all scenes should be planned and talked about by all parties involved. I hope you enjoyed and I just wanted to add this because ya know, it's important!

[ethereacals]

SO AMERICAN <3

CHAPTER 7: BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

synopsis: Remus grows attached to an american exchange student from Ilvermorny

pairings: remus lupin x american!reader

cw;, foul language

series masterlist

a/n: do you guys like the new banner???

"EMILIA DRUGGED REMUS WITH AMORTENTIA." James concluded, his hands landed firmly on your shoulders as you processed the information.

"W-What?"

"It's clear! He's been all over her instead of you!"

"Doesn't mean he's drugged." You sniffed.

"You don't have to believe me, but you will soon." James announced, leaping out of the broom closet and marching his way over to where ever he was going.

"James- James!" You chased after him, frantically clearing your tears.

"James, what if it’s too late? What if he actually—"

"No. No way. This isn’t Remus. This is some twisted potion-induced fantasy that Emilia cooked up. He would never—"

"But he thinks it’s real. That’s the problem." "Then we make him see reality." James insisted, as you ran down the hallways.

"We have to do something, but we can’t just barge in and scream ‘you’ve been drugged’ at him." You reasoned, already out of breath.

"Why not? Sounds efficient to me." James turned his gaze towards you. "Because that’s how people get hexed, James." You deadpanned. "Fine, fine. Who do we tell? Sirius?" "He’ll want to murder someone." "Yeah, I’m counting on it."

"James! You cannot murder someone! Last time I checked it was illegal." You scolded, and right before James was about to respond, you heard the most sickeningly familiar laugh.

Gilderoy Lockhart.

Exactly who you needed.

"There's our guy."

"James? James!" You were getting increasingly more confused.

"Oi! Lockhart." James yelled, catching the boys attention before slamming him up against the wall.

His posse scattered in a fearful blitz.

"What the-"

"What's your damage, Lockhart?" You spat, replacing James as you pinned him to the wall.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about-" Gilderoy writhed under you.

"You had sixth year potions last year, didn't you? You know how to brew Amortentia, don't you?" You accused, unbeknownst to you- James was incredibly impressed.

"I- Maybe-"

"A fucking maybe doesn't cut it! Yes or no?"

"Y-Yes! Yes I- I did! I do! W-What's this about?"

"Don't play dumb, dipshit. You helped Emilia Sallow drug Remus!" You nudged him farther into the wall, pressing your wand against his throat as he quivered.

"M-Yes! Yes- I did! S-She said that-that she would make one for me to-to drug y-you when sh-e finished this course!" He admitted.

"I knew it!" James cheered, and you released Gilderoy.

"Fuck off, Lockhart, and if you're smart- you'll never speak to me again." You threatened, as he scrambled to his feet and dashed away.

James clapped, as your adrenaline skyrocketed.

"That felt good."

"Good? That was bloody brilliant!" James smiled widely, grabbing your hand and tugging you away from the scene.

A plan was underway, a big one.

"WE NEED TO GET HIM ALONE, BUT Emilia is glued to his side." You eyed Remus and Emilia, as you and James sat together in the Great Hall. "He's even sitting with her." Sirius mentioned.

"I couldn't tell." You deadpanned, fists clenched.

"What's the plan?" Peter asked meekly.

"Just- waiting until Emilia cracks, we need to find an antidote though." James answered, though he sounded a bit uncertain of himself.

"You could ask someone who's knows a great deal about potions?" Lily suggested, and Sirius had an idea.

"You could talk to Reggie! He knows tons." Sirius urged, and James' head went into auto-pilot.

"R-Regulus? I'll go talk to him!" James got up- quicker than he should have according to the confused looks on his friends faces.

"I-I mean... I guess I'll go talk to him.." James sank back down in his seats.

"I'll go talk to Slughorn, but don't worry, I'm great at being discreet."

"PROFESSOR, DO YOU KNOW OF ANY antidotes for someone who is-hypothetically-under the influence of a love potion?" Slughorn turned to you, his brow furrowed.

"Hypothetically? What is this for, Ms. L/N?" He questioned.

"Well- We have that whole project on the subject. I felt it would be a good addition to my presentation." You smiled, and he nodded.

"Ah, of course. I do enjoy seeing my students so passionate about something I teach." He prided himself, as he led you to his desk.

"You would need Wiggentree bark, crushed bezoar and essence of dittany. Cures it like a charm, every time it's been tested." He smiled, turning back to you as you mentally noted what ingredients you were to be using.

"Perfect, thank you very much, Professor." You turned to leave, the second stage of your plan complete.

"REMUS... CAN WE talk?" You stuttered, you hadn't spoken to him since potions.

"You don’t have to check in on me, I’m fine. You should be worrying about James, not me."

Oh, for god's sake—enough with this ‘I’m fine’ shit! You’re about as fine as Peter is at lying!"

"I don’t have time for this."

"You always used to have time for me."

"Things change." Remus spat.

"No, they don’t. You change under a full moon. This? This isn’t you. And you know it." You urged him.

"I… I love Emilia."

"I never said anything about Emilia."

"I love her." He pushed.

"Do you? Or do you just think you do?"

"I—I don’t know! It’s like—I think about her, and it feels right, but then—then I see you and it—" He stopped himself abruptly.

"Then what?"

"Then it feels wrong."

"Then fight it! Before it’s too late."

Remus looked at you, his eyes full of something deep and pained—something real. But just as quickly as it appears, he shoved it down, his body tense.

"I need to go." His voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, he turns and walks away, his posture rigid, leaving you standing there, fists clenched at your sides.

"We don’t have much time." You thought.

GRYFFINDOR WAS hosting a large party after their quidditch win against Hufflepuff, and most students 5th year and above were in attendance.

"Do you think their gonna show up?" James leaned over towards you, Sirius mirroring him on your other side.

"We can only hope?"

"Oh, speak of the devil." Lily muttered, as Emilia came strutting in with Remus as if he was on a leash.

The snake sauntered over to Gilderoy as they held a pleasant conversation, before James sauntered over to a large table in the center of the common room.

Sirius also took action, pulling Remus aside and into their dorm room as "shit was about to hit the fan" according to Marlene.

"Attention everyone!" James shouted, actively gaining attention from his peers.

"I just wanted to congratulate my mind-blowing team, on another win!" The Gryffindors erupted into applause and cheers, just as James shushed them once more.

"I just have one question-" He added, his loyal crowd waiting in suspence.

"Emilia, you look great tonight." He started, and her face lit with shock.

"O-oh? Really?" She batted her eyelashes.

"How long have you been drugging Remus Lupin?"

tune in next time on; so american

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[jbstrjen]

Dark Plans and Adorable Interruptions

Dad! Tom Riddle x Mum!Reader

When your son desperately wants your guys’ attention…it can never wait

Can you tell I love writing AND I majored in writing as an extra course alongside my uni course? Because I think it’s fab

The fireplace crackled gently in the corner of the study, casting long shadows across the velvet-draped walls. Tom stood by the map-laden table, elegant in his dark robe, a chessboard of miniature wizarding figures between his long fingers. You sat opposite him, a parchment open in front of you, ink still wet where you had scribbled counter-hex patterns. Your brow was furrowed in concentration.

“This travel into the Ministry will require perfect timing,” Tom said smoothly, his voice low and dangerous. “Selwyn believes the back entrance in the Atrium is still protected by Blood Wards, but if we time it with the storm—”

“Mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy,” chirped a small voice.

Tom’s jaw flexed as his red eyes flickered toward the corner of the room. Your five-year-old son, Orion, stood by the doorway, clutching a small plush Thestral, his dark curls bouncing with each excited step.

You sighed quietly, glancing down at the little boy. “Orion, sweetheart, mummy’s talking to daddy right now—”

“Mummy, mummy, look what I drew!” he said, holding up a crumpled bit of parchment covered in swirly black and green scribbles. “It’s a Dark Mark just like daddy’s!”

Tom raised a sharp brow, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “He’s disturbingly accurate.”

You gave him a warning look, but the corner of your mouth twitched with affection. You reached for Orion’s drawing with one hand, the other still on your wand. “This is… very artistic, darling. You even added sparkles.”

“I used glitter glue! And I put it on the cat. She’s sparkly now.”

There was a long pause.

“The cat?” Tom asked, deadly calm.

“Yes!” Orion grinned proudly. “She didn’t like it, though. She knocked over the ink bottle.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Orion, love, mummy and daddy are having a very important conversation. About grown-up things.”

“Like blowing stuff up?”

Tom chuckled darkly. “He’s certainly my son.”

Orion beamed, entirely unaffected by the tension in the room. He climbed up into your lap, squirming between you and the map.

“Orion,” you whispered gently but firmly, “this is a very serious discussion. People’s lives are at stake.”

“Can I help?”

Tom tilted his head. “And how exactly would you contribute to a Death Eater strategy, my little chaos gremlin?”

“I could distract the people with sparkles!” he declared.

You blinked, then looked at Tom. “I mean… not the worst idea.”

Tom’s smirk widened slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Give him a few years. He’ll be terrifying.”

Orion was now trying to tie your wand into his shoelaces.

You sighed, lifting him off your lap and setting him gently on the nearby couch. “Go draw another Dark Mark, sweetheart. A big one. With extra glitter.”

“Okay!” he squealed, darting off toward the art supplies like a tiny meteor.

Tom leaned across the table, voice low once more. “As I was saying…before we were infiltrated…Selwyn needs confirmation before we move. Are you certain you can modify the protective enchantments in time?”

You smirked, finally turning your full attention back to him. “Absolutely. Leave the enchantments to me.”

From the couch: “Mummy! Look! This one’s got a unicorn in it!”

Tom muttered under his breath, “I’m raising a Death Eater who likes unicorns.”

You only laughed. “He’s five, Tom. Let him have his unicorns.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Tom sighed, brushing back a lock of hair and murmuring, “Very well. But the unicorn gets a skull tattoo.”

“Mummy, what’s a tattoo?”

“Later, Orion!”

[imagrindylow]

Talk to Me

Leander Prewett / f!MC

7.8k Words Content Warnings: Just fluff! Pining, crushes, general cuteness. Summary: Sixth year has begun, and Leander is nervous to start talking to MC again after their summer apart. Tired of listening to his pining, Garreth comes up with a way to get Leander and MC talking. A/N: MC's house isn't specified, but for plot, she's written to not be in Gryffindor.

~~~~~

“You’re making this harder than it has to be, mate,” Garreth said, relaxing back against his headboard, a potions book and a mess of scribbled notes spread on his bed beside him that had been forgotten in the wake of conversation.

He and Leander had their dorm to themselves for the moment, and as typical, Leander was taking this time to vent about his lady woes – or rather – his lack-of-lady woes. 

Leander paced the space between their beds, shaking his head at his friend. Of course for someone like Garreth – someone confident and effortlessly funny and charming – getting a girl's attention was not a difficult task. Hell, Leander would settle for being able to talk to girls without putting his foot in his mouth. Not even girls, just… one specific girl. 

“What am I supposed to say to her?” Leander groaned, a rhetorical question that he stopped his pacing to answer with his standard self deprecating flair. “Oh, hello, I know I can barely speak to you without tripping over my words and making a fool of myself, but we should totally go out anyway,” he scoffed. “That’ll go over well.” 

Garreth sighed, feeling sympathetic to his friend’s situation. At the same time, however, sixth year had barely begun and the pining was already getting more than a little bit old. He had half a mind to march up to MC and tell her himself that Leander had been hemming and hawing about asking her out since fifth year, but Garreth valued his life and didn’t want to risk Leander hexing him into oblivion if he were to unintentionally make things worse. 

“You’re acting like she’s a stranger to you but she’s not. Sure, you haven’t talked since before summer, but all you have to do is break the ice with her again for the year. It’s not like you have to come right out and profess your undying love for her, just ask her to Hogsmeade or something,” Garreth said, picking up his book and casually riffling the pages. 

It was advice he’d given Leander before, that he had yet to take for whatever reason. Even if it didn’t lead to anything more, surely MC wouldn’t turn him down for a trip into the village. But Leander was as hard headed as he was insecure and nervous, and no amount of assurance from Garreth that he was actually a good catch would convince him.

“There’s better people for her to go to Hogsmeade with. She’s friends with everyone, I’d probably have to take a number and wait,” he said.

“I could talk to her for you,” Garreth said, not trying to sound too pushy, as he’d offered to do this before. 

Leander drew in a breath, eyes widening at Garreth as though the idea was insane. “Ohh no, absolutely not. You stay out of it. All you need to do is listen to me whine and let me wallow in my loneliness,” he said dramatically. 

Other friends of theirs may have found Leander’s theatrical refusal amusing – he was actually quite the funny bloke – but Garreth knew that in this instance it was a guise, hiding his actual hurt under his innate humor. 

Leander crossed the room and looked over himself in the mirror besides their dorm room door. He smoothed out his hair and tucked his button down into his trousers. “Anyway, I was planning on heading to the library to do some more reading for that Transfiguration assignment due next week. Want to come?”

Garreth shook his head and waved his friend off. “Nah. I’ll do it later, I work better under pressure, anyway.”

“Suit yourself, but don’t ask to copy my notes,” Leander said and shrugged. He grabbed his bag from the hook beside the door and slung it over his shoulder, then turned to leave, but there was a clatter beside his bed that made him stop and turn around. 

His small Scops Owl, Hoots, had woken up and restlessly ruffled his feathers in his cage. Leander crossed the room to the bird, and when he spoke this time his voice was much softer. “I’m sorry Hoots, I know you want to go back to the Owlery, but it’s still chucking it down outside and I know you don’t like to fly in the rain.” 

Leander waggled his finger near the owl’s face, showing him the red mark from a nip he’d given him earlier in the day, after the owl had gotten caught in the downpour while returning from delivering a letter to Leander’s parents. The owl had flown to the dorm window rather than straight back to the owlery, set on reprimanding Leander for sending him out without having checked the forecast, and Leander wasn’t going to make that mistake again. 

Leander unlatched the door of the cage, and offered the owl his arm and Hoots hopped onto his sleeve readily. “You can stretch your wings in the room until the rain stops,” he said, then looked up and addressed Garreth once again. “You’ll watch him while I’m out, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Garreth hummed. “Hoots and I will have a grand time, I’ll bounce potion ideas off him.”

Leander grinned and raised his arm, prompting Hoots to flutter his wings before flying over and landing on Garreth’s headboard. He perched near Garreth’s shoulder, as though he was actually going to look over the potions text with him.

“Right, I’m off then. See you,” Leander said and dipped out of the room, making his way towards the library at last.

Garreth read through his potions book for a good 40 minutes, jotting down notes here and there, and muttering under his breath comments on the potioneer author's ideas. Hoots chirped and chittered intermittently, prompting the boy to discuss further, until he was having a full conversation with the owl.

Before long, though, Garreth grew restless and distracted, his mind wandering back to his earlier conversation with Leander. He’d definitely said ‘no’ to his offer of speaking to MC on his behalf, but what if Garreth could help in a more inconspicuous way? Garreth hopped up from his bed needing to stretch his legs and wandered over to Leander’s desk, nonchalantly sifting through some rolls of parchment that were lined up neatly to the side.  

“You want to help me with something, Hoots?” Garreth called to the owl, who flew over to Leander’s desk at the mention of his name. Hoots turned his head sharply, as though waiting for Garreth to elaborate. “Well, you’d be helping your dad, honestly.” 

Unsurprisingly to Garreth after conversing to the bird about potions for the better part of the last hour, Hoots squawked from his perch on the edge of Leander’s desk, a sound of agreement. And so Garreth’s mind was made up. Much like in his potions work, once an idea struck him, it had to be executed – for better or worse. This was one of his better ideas, though. He could feel it.

If he couldn’t speak to MC on Leander’s behalf, maybe he could get MC to speak to him, all of her own accord.

Garreth plucked one of the rolls of parchment from Leander’s desk – an Ancient Runes assignment that Garreth happened to know (from the amount of complaining Leander had done while working on it) was due after the weekend. 

“You want to stretch your wings a bit, yeah? Why don’t you deliver this to MC? Surely she’s in the castle somewhere.” Garreth said and offered the roll of parchment to Hoots.

The small owl took the roll of parchment in the talons of one foot and stepped onto Garreth’s waiting hand. 

“Let’s hope we don’t run into Leander on the way through the portrait,” Garreth said and headed out of the dorm, then down the stairs and through the common room. 

In his mind, running into Leander was the only thing that could go wrong. Once Hoots was out of the common room, Garreth was confident that the owl could execute the rest of his plan. The plan, of course, was that MC, after coming into possession of Leander’s assignment, would bring it back to him, and thus, talk to him. So simple. Would she be confused as to why an owl was bringing her someone else’s school work? Yes. Most definitely. But that – in Garreth’s opinion – just made the whole thing even better. She and Leander would be able to laugh about it, and laughing along with the girl you fancied was a good thing. Garreth definitely considered himself a genius for this one.

With Hoots on his arm, Garreth made his way through the portrait hole, and out into the castle. “Alright Hoots, remember, take this to MC and come right back. Avoid Leander, and I’ll be waiting out here to let you back inside. Be quick,” he instructed the owl, and with a swoop, Hoots was off on his mission, and Garreth took a seat on the floor in the hall outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

~~~

Across the castle, MC had been enjoying her Friday evening over a game of Exploding Snap in the Great Hall, where she and several of her friends had lingered for a while after dinner. Talks of weekend plans were interrupted when a small owl flew in the open doors, screeching happily as it swooped down towards the tables. She hadn’t been expecting mail, especially not at this hour when usually post was delivered during breakfast, and so MC startled when the roll of parchment was dropped right in front of her, disturbing some of her cards that laid on the table.

“What’ve you got?” one of her friends asked her as she unrolled the paper.

The confusion read on her face as she looked the parchment over. She wasn’t taking the class, but still she recognised that what she’d been delivered was someone's Ancient Runes assignment. Not just any someone, though, but Leander Prewett’s – his name was written in neat calligraphy at the top corner of the page. What in Merlin’s name?

“Nothing, it was a mistake, it isn’t for me,” she told her friend, and tucked the parchment neatly into her bag that rested beside her on the floor.

She couldn’t explain why, but she found the fact that she was now in possession of Leander’s assignment to be embarrassing. It hadn’t been graded yet, nor did it appear to be completed, which told her that the work was due at a future date, and this further meant that she’d need to return it to him, and quickly, too. The problem was, they were on the eve of the weekend, and she had no idea where Leander liked to spend his time on Friday evenings. 

She pushed the issue from her mind only long enough to finish her game of Exploding Snap before excusing herself from the group and making her way back to her dorm. Thinking on things, she decided the best way to return his assignment would be the same way she’d received it – by owl. Could she deliver it to him over breakfast in the morning? Maybe, if they ended up eating at the same time, but that idea sounded terribly awkward. What if he accused her of stealing it somehow? In front of all of his friends… It wasn't an embarrassment that she could risk. Unfortunately for Leander, though, MC didn’t have her own owl, and she was most certainly not going to walk to the owlery in rain so heavy. She would wait till morning and hope that tomorrow would bring clearer weather, but in the meantime she took a seat at her desk to write a note that she planned to send along with the return of his assignment.

~~~

Leander woke Saturday morning to bright sun peeking through the slits in his bed curtains. Whatever time it was, it was far too early, but Hoots started flittering his wings at the first sounds of Leander waking up, and that was all it took to have the boy sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was up and out of bed quickly after that, opening the window so that Hoots could fly back to the owlery before he woke the rest of the dorm with his impatience. 

By the time Leander was finished getting ready for the day, all of his dorm mates were still asleep in their beds, so he settled in at his desk, looking to utilize the early morning peace and quiet to finish up some work, so he could relax the rest of the weekend. His desk was always tidy, so it was very puzzling when Leander couldn't immediately find his Ancient Runes assignment. He knew he’d left it right there, lined up neatly with the rolls of parchment for his other classes, on the left hand side of his desk… He ran his hand through his still damp, freshly washed hair, and pushed his chair back from his desk. He hadn’t wanted to start his day with nervous pacing, but here he was. He couldn’t restart this assignment. There wasn’t enough time.

The wooden floors in the boys dorm – well, in the whole castle, really – were quite worn and creaky, and though he was trying to be quiet, his footfalls were actually rather disruptive, apparently, as one by one, the other boys in the dorm started turning over in their beds and waking up.

“It’s too early to be anxious already, Prewett, go back to sleep!” Eric Northcott called with a groan from behind his bed curtains.

“I have an Ancient Runes assignment due Monday morning and it’s gone!” Leander explained. “I dunno what to do,  I can’t restart it now, I'd been working on it all week!”

“Here’s an idea, worry about it later, when people are awake,” Eric said pointedly.

Garreth groaned. He hated knowing that what he’d done was stressing Leander out, but he couldn’t for the sake of the plan let anything slip. He had to have faith that MC would return the missing assignment before Leander had a full breakdown.

“Calm down, Eric, it’s a bloody Saturday, you can take a nap later if you’re tired. Come on lads! We ought to get up and help him look for it,” Garreth said, and swung his legs to the floor, stretched, then walked over to his own desk so he could make a show of trying to find the roll of parchment which was definitely not at any of their desks.

“Thanks, Gar,” Leander muttered, annoyed with Eric, as he crouched down and started going through the drawers on his desk.

“Of course, mate.”

Garreth’s advice, however, was apparently uninspiring, because soon the other boys were hitting the showers to start their day, leaving Garreth to help Leander on his own.

“It’ll turn up, it can’t have gone far, yeah? Was it in your bag? Maybe it fell out at the library?” Garreth offered, his stomach dropping uncomfortably as he fed his best friend false leads. It would pay off in the end, he repeated on loop in his head as he crossed the room to Eric’s desk, pawing through the other boys' scrolls.

“I didn’t work on it in the library, I only worked on it here, at my desk. So it was never in my bag.” Leander stood and stretched out his back, his hand coming anxiously to rest on the back of his neck as his eyes swept the room. He got to his knees and looked under his bed, but there was nothing. “I’m going to lose my mind. First major assignment in this class and I’m going to fail it.”

Garreth couldn’t keep commenting on it. Leander’s nerves were rubbing off on him. He’d taken a massive risk and put his faith in someone else’s honesty, and it was eating at him. At this point, they’d pretty thoroughly searched the dorm, Leander was obviously still empty handed, and Garreth was antsy. He had to get Leander out of the door – out of Gryffindor tower – so MC would have a chance to find him and return this damn parchment.

“How about we head down to breakfast?” Garreth suggested.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Yes you are, you never skip breakfast. Come on. We’re going,” he insisted. “It’ll do you good, getting your mind off of it for a bit.”

“You haven’t even showered yet, are you even ready to go?”

Garreth kicked his pajama pants off right there, nudging them with his foot over towards his bed just to get them out of the middle of the dorm room floor, then pulled on his trousers from the day before. “I’ll do it later, no point in showering yet when I’m just going to be getting dirty in a cauldron later.” 

Leander shook his head, the slightest smirk forming on his lips as Garreth pulled on a jumper and deemed himself ready to go. Leander wished he could be so carefree and unbothered.

 “Alright, you, let’s go then,” Leander said, and the pair of them started the walk down to the Great Hall.

Leander would admit, getting out of the dorm, conversing with Garreth and his other friends, and having something to eat was helping. He knew in the grand scheme of things, missing one assignment would not be the end of his world, but the fact that it wouldn’t come without consequences, when he’d done the bulk of the work, didn’t sit right with him. Still, he tried to enjoy the start of his weekend. 

Post came as Leander was finishing his morning tea, his plate of breakfast sitting empty in front of him, while he was deep in conversation about quidditch with his housemates – a conversation that only dissolved as the people around him started receiving letters and parcels. Leander had corresponded with his family only the day prior, so he wasn’t expecting the roll of parchment that landed where his eggs and toast had been only minutes prior.

Garreth could barely contain the grin on his face as he watched Leander unroll the parchment. Bloody hell, MC worked quickly. Leander had only managed to panic about his missing assignment for an hour before it was miraculously back in his hands. He couldn’t blow his cover just yet though, so he hid his delight with his teacup, feigning nonchalance. 

Leander’s mouth hung open, completely shocked and confused to say the least, but moreover he was relieved. Further unrolling the scroll, a smaller slip of parchment would fall into his lap. That wasn’t in there before…

Leander,  This is going to sound very strange, but a small brown owl brought this to me yesterday evening as I was sitting in the great hall. I thought you’d want it back. MC

“How in the world?” Leander muttered under his breath, staring at the note in his hands, then checking and double checking that the roll of parchment he’d just received was actually his missing assignment, because there was no way that MC should have had it. 

“Hm?” Garreth hummed, raising a brow and turning to Leander.

“MC has just returned my Ancient Ruins assignment… via owl,” Leander said, fully aware that the idea seemed impossible despite the note in front of him claiming otherwise.

“Weird,” Garreth said and shrugged. “Hey, at least it’s back now though, you can stop worrying.” 

“Yesterday evening… I was in the library. Was she– No, nevermind,” Leander fumbled through his thoughts, trying to decide what to articulate. MC couldn’t have been in his dorm, right? While he was gone? No. Garreth wouldn’t do that. He wanted to go over to her table and question her, but he could only picture how that would go over. Her friends would laugh at him, standing there being far too tall, tripping over his words as he asked where she’d gotten his assignment from. No. He’d send her a note, like she did for him.

Garreth noticed how pensive Leander was, and found it amusing. The other boy had more questions than he currently had answers to, but his plan had worked flawlessly, and now Leander had something to chat with MC about. As far as he was concerned, he could wash his hands of the situation and wait for things to play out.

~~~

Leander was on a mission of his own following breakfast. He jotted a note back to MC, sitting at his desk for far too long mulling over so very few words, but eventually, he had a note that he didn’t think would be too mortifying to send. A simple thank you, and some speculation about his owl. 

MC, You’re right, that did sound very strange. But I did need it back, so, thanks. A small brown owl, you say? Sounds like my Hoots, but I have no idea why he’d do such a thing… He was in the castle last night, though, the menace of a bird. Leander

Even though the exchange wasn’t face to face, Leander found himself nervous as he walked his note from the Gryffindor dorms all the way to the Owlery. He had to admit, though, the fresh air was nice, and the grounds still smelt pleasantly of rain from the day before. He just hoped the climb up the tower would be worth it, that his note would be well received and he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d reply again. He liked seeing his name in her handwriting.

Leander found Hoots easily amongst the other owls currently occupying the Owlery, as he was quite a bit smaller than most of the rest of them, and he approached his owl with crossed arms and an inquisitive stare. 

“I hear that you may have had an outing yesterday while I was in the library,” Leander began, raising his brow at the owl who craned his neck around, big round eyes looking innocently back at him.

“You’d tell me if Garreth was up to something, right?” 

Hoots could neither confirm nor deny.

“If either of you are up to something, I’ll find out,” Leander said in warning before producing his note for MC from the pocket of his robe and handing it to Hoots. “Take this to MC, please.” 

Hoots chirped, gripping the paper in his talons before stretching out his wings and taking flight, and Leander began his walk back to the castle with a fluttery feeling in his stomach. 

Back in possession of his assignment, Leander was able to get it finished before lunch, and it had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew he stressed too much about his classes, but he wasn’t one of those students who could perform well on assignments or tests without putting in a lot of effort. But with the ordeal finally  behind him, he was able to enjoy lunch, and get back outside for a bit of afternoon Summoner’s Court with Garreth after the meal.

“I still don’t understand how she ended up with it, but I’m really glad she returned it,” Leander commented, pacing the board behind Garreth as the other boy lined up his pull.

“Of course she returned it, she’s a nice person,” Garreth said, then took another moment to check his aim before casting the summoning charm on one of the blue balls at the other end of the court. He earned himself a nice thirty points and smirked. “I’m getting better at this.”

“You are, thanks to me,” Leander boasted. He’d been practicing a lot since fifth year, as he was determined to not lose to MC again, should another chance to play with her arise. He liked showing off to his other competitors, though, too. He and Garreth played frequently.

“Anyway,” Garreth said with a roll of his eyes, watching Leander summon one of the red balls towards them. It rolled to a stop in the forty point zone and Garreth couldn’t be surprised. He was doing better, but he’d yet to beat Leander. “What’s it matter how she got it? You got it back in time to finish it up.” Deflect, deflect, deflect!  

“Yes, but it’s odd, and I don’t like it. I feel like I’m losing my mind trying to figure out how in Merlin’s name she got hold of it.”

Garreth shrugged, then took his second turn, one of his balls rolling up beside Leander’s red one for forty points. Damnit if Leander wasn't inquisitive, though. He had to change the subject. Thankfully, an owl gliding towards them made this easy. He pointed up at the bird and shouted, “Look!”

“Oi, don’t try to distract me while I’m lining up my shot!” Leander grumbled, fumbling his casting and only earning himself twenty points on his second turn. He hadn’t even noticed the owl, but he did notice the small roll of parchment fall at his feet just then, and his face heated up as he looked sheepishly back at Garreth. “Oh… sorry Gar.”

“Always assuming the worst of me,” he teased. “Well, what is it?”

Leander unrolled the small piece of parchment and his face continued to flush. “She wrote back, she replied to my note,” he said with a grin before reading the note.

Leander, Hoots? Well, that's a very fitting name for an owl. He’s a cute little guy, and surprisingly demanding for as small as he is. I was in the courtyard when he found me with your last note and he seemed offended that I didn’t have any treats on me at the time. Give him extra from me. MC

Leander read and reread the note. Was she teasing him for his owls name? It certainly sounded that way, and that made him feel warm. He’d apparently had a ridiculous look on his face, that he hadn’t even been aware of until he felt Garreth’s hand on his back, giving him a hard pat and snapping him out of it.

“Your face is as red as your hair right now, you know,” Garreth teased, trying to sneak a peek at the note in Leander’s hands.

“Shut up,” he grumbled and stuffed the note into his pocket before hopping off of the Summoner’s Court platform and heading back towards the front of the castle.

“Where are you going?” Garreth shouted. “We haven’t even finished this round!”

“I need to write her back!” Leander called over his shoulder.

“I’m ten points ahead, if you leave right now, I win!” 

“Congratulations!” Leander shouted back, and gave Garreth a wave. 

Losing a game of Summoner’s Court didn’t seem like such a big deal when he was exchanging little notes with MC after a summer of not talking to her. All the worrying and pining Leander had done over the last few weeks since classes had started back up felt silly now – she was joking with him and she wasn’t ignoring him. Maybe Garreth was right, maybe he had been making things harder than they needed to be. Leander knew he had a habit of getting stuck in his head, but acknowledging this issue was much easier than actually fixing it. Still, he was feeling very hopeful as he made his way back to his desk to write another reply.

~~~

MC hadn’t expected to spend her Saturday writing little notes back and forth with Leander, but she found herself to be thoroughly enjoying it. Something about it was fun, even with how simple and silly it was. It made her wish they would have exchanged letters over the summer, even though they were both to blame for not having done so.

Leander’s second note came as MC was practicing dueling with the training dummies in the clocktower entrance of the castle. There wasn’t an official crossed wands session scheduled for this evening, but really, one could never be too well practiced.

She was glad, actually, that she was only practicing with the dummy when Hoots found her, because had she been dueling a living opponent, she’d have surely lost the round due to distraction. Not to mention, if she was in a real duel, she’d have had to deal with a crowd of her peers seeing her go all blushy. More familiar with Leander’s owl now, she raised her arm, offering Hoots a perch, and the bird landed gracefully to deliver her note.

“I still don’t have any treats, I’m sorry. Hopefully Leander gave you some earlier,” she told the owl as she carefully unrolled the slip of parchment. 

MC, I’ll have you know, I named Hoots when I was 11 years old, so all things considered, I think I did well. It could have been so much worse, honestly. He’s quite spoiled already, but I did give him some extra treats since you were so ill prepared earlier, and I think he’s forgiven you. Hope you’re having a good weekend so far. Leander

She hummed warmly as she read his note, glancing at Hoots who remained perched on her left forearm. “He’s had you for quite awhile then, that’s sweet. And you’re spoiled, are you?” She spoke fondly to the owl, and couldn’t help but picture Leander doting on his pet. Hoots cooed happily, seeming to enjoy the attention before flying back off and out the open gates of the Clock Tower entrance. Both of Leander’s notes would accompany MC through the rest of her day, nice and secure in her pocket. She found herself peeking at them when she had moments to herself from then until dinner.

She was planning on writing him back, too, of course, she’d even thought of what she’d wanted to say as she sat at her house table amongst her friends in the Great Hall at dinner time. That is, until she saw him walking through the tall wooden doors and towards the Gryffindor table, because at that point all of her thoughts seemed to simply evaporate, and she just watched him with what was probably a very stupid grin on her face. 

But then he looked at her, and her grin didn’t seem so stupid because his own grin matched, and he waved at her. The whole thing was enough to catch her friend's attention, but the girls who flanked her sides were unable to trace her gaze in time. 

“Who’s got you grinning like that?” one of the girls asked, giving MC a gentle nudge with her elbow. 

Both of the girls were giggling, and MC’s face was getting redder. “Is it the same boy who’s been sending you notes?”

MC was suddenly regretting the small bits of information she’d shared with her girlfriends, because now not only was she being teased (albeit goodnaturedly) but he was watching, too. If MC knew Leander at all, and she liked to think she did, he’d be absolutely eating this up. Thankfully, though, she hadn’t told her friends who the notes were from, because she knew if she had, they’d never let her hear the end of it.

“Maybe so,” MC said with quite the coy smile, as she tried and failed to focus on the plate in front of her, though she knew her friends wouldn’t let her off that easily. 

“Has he been sending you love notes?” one asked.

“They are not love notes, they’re just friendly notes,” MC said, though no amount of insisting would convince the other girls, even though she was being honest.

“And your blushing is just friendly blushing?” the other teased.

“You both ought to remember this next time you find yourselves fancying a boy,” MC warned, feeling smug with her promise of eventual comeuppance before she’d realized…

“So you admit you fancy this mystery boy, then?”

She’d said a bit too much.

~~~

Leander had watched as MC’s friends teased her, and coupled with the way they’d looked at eachother, he knew it was to do with him. She was blushy and her friends were giggling and it was due to him. Even considering the way he had struggled with girls previously, Leander could acknowledge that this was a great sign, and he’d talk Garreth’s ear off about it as the pair relaxed in the common room that evening.

“I told you all you had to do was talk to her- erm, I mean, I guess passing notes does count, too. Still. Told you so,” Garreth said, sitting with his legs spread out in front of him on the common room floor, close to the fireplace. There was soot on his jumper from the day's potions experiments and he was flipping through his journal, expanding on notes he’d jotted down earlier about his findings. He’d been listening to Leander gush for several minutes at this point.

“You’re right, I’m not denying it, you do know what you’re talking about sometimes,” Leander admitted. He was sitting on the floor close by Garreth, merely watching his friend work and keeping him company. 

“I’d like that in writing, thank you,” Garreth said with a smirk, not looking up from his journal.

“Very funny. I hope she writes again tomorrow.”

“Better yet, you could talk to her in person. She isn’t that scary, she’s just a girl.”

Just a girl. Leander had heard rumors about things MC had accomplished last year, and he begged to differ. “No, I’m fairly certain that she is scary.”

“You already said I was right, might as well just do what I say,” Garreth said with a smirk.

“I said sometimes,” he clarified. 

They’d go back and forth for a while, until slowly the common room emptied as their housemates headed to their dorms for bed. As the room quieted down, Leander realized how tired he was, and he suggested that he and Garreth head to their dorm as well. Leander couldn’t lie, he was excited to get to sleep, excited for tomorrow to come already. If he could have another day like today with MC, he’d be happy.

~~~

MC had similar feelings when she woke up Sunday morning. Despite her friends teasing her, she was actually quite keen to keep sending back and forth little notes with Leander, and while she still wasn’t quite sure why on earth Hoots gave her his assignment of all things, she was glad it had happened, since it led to such an enjoyable day.

She took her time getting herself ready for the day, dragging her feet intentionally so she could have the dorm to herself as she sat at her desk to finally reply to Leander’s last note. She just wasn’t quite ready for her girlfriends to know who she had such a crush on, since she couldn’t say for certain that he felt the same… At the same time though, if their interactions in fifth year meant anything, she had a bit of an idea. He’d always been so adorably shy around her, fumbling his words while trying to boast. She’d found him endearing from the start and just the thought that he may feel the same had her grinning as she got to writing. 

Leaving her dorm, she headed straight to the Owlery, wanting to send his note before going to breakfast. She hadn’t walked to the Owlery so many times in one weekend since she’d arrived at Hogwarts, but she couldn’t say she minded it, the weather was pleasant and the path wasn’t as muddy as it had been the day before.

Immediately upon starting up the spiral staircase, MC realized that she was not the only student visiting the Owlery to start off the day, as she could hear a boy's voice echoing against the curved stone walls.. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but as she got further up the stairs, she could have sworn she heard the voice mentioned Hoots – a voice that didn’t belong to Leander. Curious, MC cast disillusionment on herself and made her way further up the staircase quietly as she could, until she reached the top and she could just peek onto the landing to see what was going on…

She’d been right. Someone was talking to Hoots. 

“You did so well yesterday, you know that, Hoots? I knew I could count on you to help me pull this off,” Garreth Weasley spoke proudly to Leander’s owl. 

MC held her breath, watching him hand-feed the owl a few treats from a small bag that he’d pulled from his pocket, before handing one of the school’s owls a letter to send off.  She quickly maneuvered up the last few stairs and to the opposite side of the room before Garreth crossed towards the staircase and made his way down. She watched out one of the many windows until she was sure Garreth was gone before finally lifting the disillusionment charm.

She marched right over to Hoots with a smirk on her face, shaking her head in disbelief at what she’d heard. 

“Conspiring with Garreth, are you?” she asked the owl with an amused scoff. “I wondered why in Merlin’s name you brought me Leander’s Ancient Runes assignment.

MC stepped back over to the stairs, sitting down at the top, she pulled a roll of spare parchment from her bag and hastily ripped off a section. Abandoning the note she’d initially planned on sending to Leander, she hastily started scrawling him a new one. 

~~~

Leander saved the seat next to him at breakfast that morning. It wasn’t anything new, Garreth always wrote home on Sundays, something his mum liked for him to do, and that Garreth did without fail. Leander had noticed quickly that Garreth was not the only one missing that morning though. He scanned MC’s house table, and she was not sitting with her friends as she always did. It was a shame. He’d been looking forward to seeing the way she blushed when she looked at him.

Post was arriving as Garreth returned from the Owlery. The other boy was grinning as he slid into his saved seat beside Leander, and he started promptly piling eggs and sausage onto his plate. Out of the corner of his eye, Garreth saw Leander reaching to catch a small roll of parchment as it fell towards him.

“She’s early with it, isn't she,” Garreth commented, quite pleased to see that MC had wasted no time writing to Leander this morning. He was feeling quite smug that his plan had worked out so well. He loved seeing Leander so happy.

“She is,” Leander agreed. It wasn’t a short walk to the Owlery, and the fact that two of her notes came with the morning post meant that she was up and thinking of him first thing in the morning, and that made Leander feel very good.

Leander,  This was meant to be a completely different note, but as I was taking it to the owlery, I came across something very interesting that I think you’d like to hear about. But I should tell you about it in person. Meet me in the library when you get this. MC

“Well?” Garreth asked, leaning in towards Leander a bit to sneak a peek at the note. 

Leander’s already rosy cheeks tinged a bit darker pink as he read the note. She wanted to meet with him in person. Him. No wonder she wasn’t in the Great Hall. She was waiting for him. He let out a breath of nervous laughter before gathering his words, hardly believing his luck. “She wants me to meet her in the library… right now.”

“Oooh, that sounds promising,” Garreth said, clicking his tongue and winking at Leander while giving him a nudge with his elbow.

“It does, doesn't it? She says she heard something interesting and she wants to tell me about it. Wonder what it could be.”

“Well go on, go find out, don’t keep a lady waiting,” Garreth encouraged, and with that, Leander was cutting his breakfast short and making his way out of the Great Hall, holding his head just a bit higher than usual.

~~~

MC made sure she wasn’t hard to find, waiting for Leander at the end of one of the centrally located long tables on the first floor of the library. She was eating an apple that she’d thankfully had in her bag, and watching the door. She hadn’t had to wait long, and she waved when she saw him.

Why was she so nervous? She’d been the one to ask him to meet her, and here he was, walking towards her, and the closer he got the warmer her face felt, until finally he sat down beside her, and the room felt so warm she was sure she’d melt.

“M-Morning,” Leander said as he slipped onto the bench beside MC. He sounded just as nervous, maybe even more so, and this made her feel better. 

“Hey, good morning,” she grinned, pausing a beat just looking at him, and probably doing so for a bit longer than she should have. His honey brown eyes dropped to where his hands laid folded on the table, like he couldn’t quite take the way she’d looked at him. She shouldn’t have glanced down at his hands. Merlin. 

She cleared her throat, her blush creeping up to her ears. “Erm, so I overheard something when I was in the Owlery this morning…” 

“Oh?” Despite being a flushed mess himself, it was clear Leander took pride in the fact that MC also had quite the pronounced blush on her face. He was also very interested to hear anything MC had to say.

“Garreth. He was talking to Hoots. He told him ‘you did so well yesterday’ and said ‘I knew I could count on you to help me pull this off,’” she said, then waited as Leander processed. 

His mouth was hanging open, and he stared at her with wide eyes. She could tell he knew where she was going with this. “He said that to Hoots? You’re sure?”

 “Positive. He gave him treats, too. Then he mailed something using one of the school’s owls,” MC said. “I should add… he didn’t know I was there. I cast disillusionment on myself when I heard him mentioning your owl.”

“You think–”

“Your Ancient Runes assignment–”

“He told Hoots to give it to you, that sly bastard! He was alone in the dorm with Hoots for a good hour and a half Friday evening while I was in the library, and we’d been talking about–” Leander paused, catching himself before he said anything that would embarrass him too much, though, he should have known, MC wasn’t going to let him get off without at least a bit of questioning.

“Talking about what?”

“It– it doesn't matter. I just know it was him. He put Hoots up to it, it’s the only explanation. He… he was trying to get you and I to talk,” Leander admitted.

MC looked just as surprised as Leander had, when she’d told him what she’d overheard. Surprised and delighted. “Was he, now?” She asked with a raised brow and a bit of a smug grin.

“Yeah. He was.” Leander nodded, knowing he should be more forthcoming, but that felt very daunting right now, even with the way MC grinned at him. Damn did she look pretty like that. He knew she was smart, though. She could put the pieces together. 

“Well, it worked,” she said and let out a huff of amusement. 

“It did. I suppose I can’t be too mad at him, can I?”

MC shook her head. She could tell Leander was likely leaving out some details of what he and Garreth had talked about Friday evening, but context gave her enough to go by. If Garreth had wanted them to talk, so much so much so that he went and mettled, they must have been talking about her. Leander had wanted to talk to her. He’d just needed a little encouragement.

“You know, I was worried that you would think I somehow stole that assignment,” MC said, still quite amused and also quite flustered. 

This had Leander grinning, knowing she’d been just as worried about the whole situation as he had been. He was less nervous when he spoke now, smiling at her and talking with his hands as he often did when he was a bit worked up. “When I tell you I wanted to pull my hair out, looking for that damn roll of parchment Saturday morning. I thought I was losing my mind, and I felt even more crazy when you of all people sent it back to me, by owl, no less,” he rambled then shook his head subtly, still almost in disbelief of how it all happened. “And Garreth – that little shite – he helped me search our dorm!”

MC laughed, just picturing the scene playing out as he described it. Bloody hell did her laugh do things to his heart. Leander felt light inside, and he chuckled with her. 

“I’d have loved to see that,” she said, still giggling softly. 

“I imagine it was probably pretty entertaining to watch,” he agreed, looking fondly at her.

“I’m glad you didn’t pull your hair out, though, I rather like your hair,” she added, grinning at the way her compliment made him blush. 

Leander could feel his heart racing. “Th-thank you, I’m glad I didn’t, too, then.”

There were a few moments of silence between them, and their mutual little giggles calmed down. MC’s face softened and when she spoke again, she sounded a little more serious. “You didn’t have to be nervous about talking to me, you know,” she said. She was going out on a limb and making some assumptions, but given what he had said, the fact he was sure Garreth’s intention had been to get the two of them talking, she was fairly confident in her assertion.

“Yeah… that’s what Garreth said, too,” he said and smirked coolly, despite the fact that his stomach was fluttering madly right now.

“Well, he was right.” 

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Leander said and looked around, just making sure the other boy hadn’t sneakily followed him– he wouldn’t put it past him, if he was being honest. He hummed thoughtfully. “But I suppose I won’t be so nervous in the future.”

“Good, because I’ve really enjoyed this – writing back and forth. Talking with you. You better keep sending me notes.”

Leander was beaming. She enjoyed talking to him, she wanted more notes. He’d write her more notes than she’d know what to do with, if it meant she’d keep looking at him the way she was – blushing and smiling and flirting with him. Bloody hell, he owed Garreth majorly for this. Sixth year was going to be a good year. “Don’t worry, I will, I promise.”

[thottythoughtdaughter]

angel definitely plays league of legends. and they definitely watched arcane RELIGIOUSLY.

so ofc as any true arcane fan does, angel coerced their dearest loved ones to share the trauma.

david acted like he hated it for the first three episodes: after that, he spent long hours ranting to angel why vander is the best character and deserves the best arc (little did he know...)

asher also plays LoL so he watched with angel the first time around. they sobbed in each other's arms when powder explodes her family. asher loves s1 caitlyn because she reminds him of his older sister.

milo had no interest until angel sent him edits of vi, jinx, jayce, and ekko on tiktok. very much a "here for the hotties, stayed for the soul-crushing plot development and character arcs".

darlin' refuses to see how they and vi are alike. "i don't get it we are not the same fuckin person. she has red hair."

sam barely pays attention, asks plot-obvious questions at every interval, but angel will pause the entire show to explain every bit of lore possible leading up to this part (game lore included).

sweetheart doesn't really care for it, but tolerates it because they like having a show to watch with everyone. gets invested in s2 when caitlyn and vi are more of a couple. caitlyn defender to the end. makes "you think i needed all the guards at the hex gates?" jokes all the time.

baaabe loves jinx. end of story. is a jinx apologist. the only time they ever fight with sweetheart is about jinx vs caitlyn.

at one point they tried to drag vincent and lovely into the fold but sam already warned him.

(secretly lovely and vincent watch it together on their own because they prefer non-chaotic television experiences. lovely likes silco. vincent likes sevika.)

isha dying in s2 absolutely destroyed everyone. including sam. milo had to get up and walk out. asher openly sobbed.

[malk1ns]

march 13 v blues, 5-3 win

this team is so silly.

so geno sure had himself some moments last night, huh? babe are you good?

thank you to everyone who sent me asks with ideas, you guys helped so much <3 i'm not posting any of the asks because i want to keep them for potential future inspo, but i read them all (along with the lovely compliments) and i really appreciate it!!

The proximity curse can’t have come at a worse time, really.

Neither of them noticed at first. Over the years Zhenya and Sid’s pre-game rituals have twined together; they get to the rink in the afternoon and don’t really separate until Sid skates out for the anthems. Even when Sid is out taping his sticks on the bench, Zhenya’s usually fussing with the stick rack back in the tunnel, arranging and re-arranging everything until he’s satisfied with where his extras are.

They’ve been adding to their warmup routines over the years too; between passing the puck back and forth and Zhenya doing his best to distract Sid when he’s at the net practicing tip-ins, they spend most of the time within a few feet of each other. So when Zhenya feels the need to follow Sid around the ice more than normal, to slap at his shins and handle a puck between his skates a few extra times, it’s not really something worth dwelling on.

When the anthems end and Sid skates for center ice and Zhenya feels like there’s a sharp hook in his stomach tugging him along, he starts to pay more attention.

“What the fuck,” he grunts, gripping his stick to stop himself from vaulting over the boards until the ripping ache in his belly eases. 

He manages to stay in place, but it’s a close thing. He shrugs off the coaches who come to check on him, white-knuckling his way through the first period until the horn sounds and he can bodily drag a protesting Sid off the ice and tow him to the practitioner’s office, just down the hall from the locker room.

He doesn’t think about the relief so powerful it’s almost nauseating when he gets his hands on Sid’s jersey.

“Dude,” Sid complains, but Zhenya barges into Mage Novik’s office without so much as a knock.

“We cursed,” he announces, shoving Sid into a chair and dropping into the other one. His hands start stinging the second he lets Sid go. “Not sure when it happens, but it hurts when I’m too far from Sid. You can fix?”

Mage Novik looks at them over their glasses, eyebrows raising. 

Some of the guys don’t like the Mage. Spooky, Karl called them, and Kris gives their office a wide berth unless he’s frog-marched in for his mandated quarterly hex-check. Zhenya likes them, though—they’ve been around since long before Zhenya came to North America, and he’s always found their ambiguously Slavic accent comforting, especially in the early days when he barely understood English and only had Seryozha to talk to.

He spent a lot of time with the Mage getting checked and double-checked for lingering curses and evil eyes from Magnitogorsk. There was one that took almost a full week to untangle embedded in his left heel; the doctors thought it was shin splints at first.

The Mage normally doesn’t tolerate interruptions, or unscheduled visits. Zhenya’s an exception.

“When did you first notice?” they ask, rising and circling their desk to peer down at first Zhenya, then Sid. Zhenya catches Sid tensing up and rolls his eyes. “There’s definitely something here, not on Sidney but on you, Zhenechka.”

Zhenya sighs explosively. “Notice when game starts and Sid goes to center ice. Before that, not sure. I’m at my house for a nap in afternoon, no problems.”

The Mage rests their hand on the top of Zhenya’s head. He holds his breath and stays as still as possible until they slide their palm off, patting his cheek once before returning behind their desk.

“It’s a proximity curse,” they say, drawing out a sheet of paper. Sid swears colorfully, and the Mage quirks a tiny smile. “Indeed. It was cast just a few hours ago, either on your way to the arena or right when you arrived. The signature is unfamiliar to me.” They bend down and begin to scribble. “I do not have a solution for you right now. It’s still new enough that you won’t feel the worst of it for a while, but no more than two more hours. Hopefully by then I will be able to dismantle it, but if not, be prepared to spend the evening as close as possible in order to avoid unnecessary distress.” They lean forward and yank a strand of hair from first Zhenya, then Sid. “Go now. You may play as long as it doesn’t hurt too badly. Return after the game.”

Sid scowls, rubbing at his scalp. “Is there anything you can give him so he’s not in pain?” he asks, glancing over at Zhenya. “He said it hurts already.”

Mage Novik glances up from their paper, now covered in arcane symbols. Zhenya and Sid’s strands of hair have been woven together into a circle, centered on the parchment. “I am not a doctor, Sidney,” they say, with the patient tone of someone who’s explained the same thing many, many times. “I can unwind curses and provide protection. For pain relief, I believe the staff has a full stock of Toradol.” They turn back to their work.

Sid looks inclined to argue, but Zhenya knows when he’s been dismissed from a practitioner’s presence, so he hauls Sid to his feet and out the door, letting go and forcing himself to step a few inches away once they’re back in the hall.

“What the hell??” Sid demands, crossing his arms. “We haven’t gotten hit with anything all season, who did you piss off?”

“Me?” Zhenya says, outraged. “Who say I do something? Maybe someone misses, like, they aim for you, bad shot.” He and Sid had arrived at the same time, after all, and walked in from the garage together. “Nobody cares enough to curse me, you’re big shot with fancy record soon.” He manages to mostly keep his sulky resentment out of his voice; he’s Sid’s biggest supporter, always has been, and he thinks he’s doing a remarkably good job of tamping down his own competitive spirit to cheer Sid on even as his own play starts to flag.

Sid huffs as they round the corner to the locker room. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, which is how Zhenya knows Sid thinks he might be right. “We need to figure out how we’re going to get through this game. I think you should sit.”

“What!” Zhenya cries, throwing out his arm to stop Sid from barrelling into the room. “I sit, like, stay even further away, hurt worse? No. If I sit, you do too.”

“I need to get a point this game,” Sid says evenly, shoving at Zhenya’s arm until he moves out of the way. “And the trainers could give you something, some of the strong stuff. Then we’ll go see the Mage after the game and I’ll drive you home and everything will be fine.”

“Who’s getting the good stuff?” Rusty asks from where he’s digging through the tape bin at the front of the room, sounding far too interested. “G, you hurt?”

“No,” Zhenya snaps, at the same time Sid says “He’s cursed.” They glare at each other.

Rusty looks between them, then grabs a tape roll at random and retreats back to his stall.

“A curse?” Sully says, casually inserting himself between them. “Have you been to the Mage?”

“We just go,” Zhenya jumps to answer before Sid can try and pretend his stupid idea came from the Mage. “They say, I play as long as it’s not too bad, think I have a few hours before it pulls me too close and I can’t. They’re work on something and we go back after the game.”

Sully eyes him, and Zhenya does his best to look earnest and trustworthy and exactly like a guy who would never, ever minimize the extent of an injury in order to stay in a game.

Sid hastily covers a laugh with a cough, so Zhenya thinks he’s probably not doing a great job.

“Fine,” Sully says, shaking his head and looking upward. “Christ, it’s been one thing after another this season. G, the second you feel like it’s too bad you get yourself off the ice, understand? I don’t want you fucking around with this, it’s not something you can grit your teeth and force your way through. No matter what happens, you’re off the ice for practice tomorrow.”

Zhenya’s a grown man who’s far too mature to stick his tongue out at Sid for getting his way. He does it anyway as soon as Sully’s turned back to address the rest of the team.

Sid rolls his eyes. “You’re a moron,” he mutters, but he sounds fond—he’s never able to stay upset with Zhenya for too long, even when he deserves it. “I’m gonna be watching you, and I’ll pull you out myself if I think you’re pushing it. So, don’t.”

“Yes, Captain,” Zhenya simpers, and Sid aims a kick at him before waddling back to his stall.

Zhenya does take a detour to beg a shot of Toradol off the staff. The pain had been more unexpected than anything else, but it’s better to be prepared. If the Mage is right, he’ll be feeling a lot worse by the end of the game.

—

It’s worse than Zhenya could ever have imagined. He spent the last two periods totally distracted, gritting his teeth against the urge to trail after Sid like a dog on a leash and instead limiting himself to shoving guys out of the way to sit pressed against Sid’s side when they’re both on the bench. By the time the final buzzer sounds Zhenya’s sweating and he’s getting a headache, and he can’t get off the ice fast enough.

Sid hustles down the tunnel after him, and Zhenya can practically feel the worry radiating off him.

It’s a relief when they get to the Mage’s office and Zhenya can scoot their chairs as close as possible. It would probably be even better if they were out of their gear, but neither of them wanted to wait.

Mage Novik has a line between their eyebrows. “Unfortunately,” they start, and Zhenya’s heart sinks.

He barely registers the rest—Sid’s there, he’ll remember everything important. Instead, Zhenya closes his eyes and lets himself indulge in a moment of self-pity.

First his wrist, then his knee, now this. What an absolute clusterfuck of a season.

He zones out until he feels Sid’s hand on his arm, then gets to his feet, smiles wanly at the Mage, and follows Sid out of the office.

“Okay,” Sid says, taking a deep breath. “They said that they need more time. Something about the intent of the curse? I didn’t really understand, they got really technical, but they said that there was something about the why they needed to look into. They said we both should stay home tomorrow because you’re only gonna get worse…and, we probably are going to have to share a bed tonight. They’ll have someone come get us when they’re ready to break it.”

Zhenya shrugs. “Okay,” he says. What else is there to say?

“So, I guess we should just…shower and go home. Do you want to go to yours, or…” Sid trails off, looking unsure. 

“Alexei in town,” Zhenya says. “Don’t think it’s good idea, share bed when he’s here. Even if we say it’s curse, he’s maybe…” Zhenya’s mouth twists. It’s so hard to explain the backwards way many of his Russian friends think about things, and it feels doubly shameful to try and do so tonight, when the arena was decked out in rainbows and half the signs at warmups were about Pride.

Zhenya likes to think he’s more enlightened these days, far more sophisticated than the knee-jerk defensive idiocy of his youth, but he has the benefit of living in the West most of the time. His childhood friends are still steeped in traditional media. And, right or wrong, Zhenya doesn’t want the boys he used to play pond hockey with looking at him differently.

“Then we’ll stay at mine,” Sid says, seizing onto the beginnings of a plan with the desperate gratitude of a drowning man. “We’ll eat, we’ll go to bed, and hopefully the Mage will call us right away in the morning and all of this will be over.”

The shower is weird. Zhenya is intensely aware of how close Sid is, taking the shower next to him instead of leaving the courtesy space. He’s seen Sid naked thousands of times, but it feels different now; the curse makes Zhenya want to touch, and Sid’s skin looks smooth and warm as he scrubs himself off.

He’d mostly trained himself out of looking at his teammates like this. The last thing he needs is for this curse to bring back confused teenaged desires he’s long outgrown.

Zhenya shakes his head and tilts back into the spray, letting his shampoo rinse out. He keeps his eyes on the wall in front of him and showers as quickly as he can, drying himself so roughly his skin stings and tripping into his clothes once they’re in the change room.

Sid sticks close to his side as they walk to the garage, an awful parody of the way they’d bumped into each other companionably on the way in this afternoon. As they walk, Zhenya keeps turning his head, looking for where someone might have been hiding away, ready to aim a curse at them and fuck up his entire night.

He doesn’t even put up a token protest when Sid guides them to his Range Rover. He’s in no state to drive; he spends the entire ride back to Sid’s house focusing on keeping his hands in his lap.

Every single light is on in Sid’s house when they pull up, and Zhenya shakes his head—Sid is the worst at turning lights off, can’t stand a room being even a little dim. Zhenya’s parents are always appalled when they come over, murmuring about the waste of electricity.

“Don’t start,” Sid warns, and Zhenya has to admit that it’s nice to walk into a kitchen that’s well-lit  and warm-feeling, even though the entire house is empty. Sid doesn’t like having company like Zhenya, doesn’t host his hometown friends for weeks on end to stave off the loneliness, but there’s a difference between a quiet house and a quiet, dark house.

They eat pressed together at Sid’s island. Zhenya picks at his food, and for once Sid doesn’t push it, although he does insist Zhenya finish the horrifying green shake Sid forces on him.

Normally they’d watch a late game, or maybe review some tape if either of them had something they wanted to review before video tomorrow, but Zhenya can barely remember anything that happened in tonight’s game, and neither of them are really in the mood to watch a West Coast game, so they head upstairs.

Sid produces a pair of basketball shorts that Zhenya has to tighten an absurd amount to keep from falling off his waist, and they take turns in the bathroom. Sid waits just outside the door as Zhenya brushes his teeth, but even that’s starting to feel like too much, and by the time they slide into bed Zhenya’s practically frantic until he can pull Sid flush to him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, flushed and miserable with shame, but Sid shakes his head and burrows into Zhenya’s arms. 

“Not your fault,” he says, voice muffled by Zhenya’s chest. “Not like I’m gonna let you sleep somewhere else if you’re hurtin’, bud. You’d do the same for me.”

Zhenya’s chest swells with fondness. Sid is annoying, sure, and stubborn and sometimes selfish and a know-it-all, but he’s the best person Zhenya’s ever known.

It’s strange, falling asleep with someone in his arms. It’s been a very long time. Still, Zhenya manages to drift off to the sound of Sid’s quiet, whuffling snores.

—

Zhenya’s torn out of a warm, very pleasant dream by a voice calling his name, louder and more urgent with each repetition. As he swims back to wakefulness, he’s aware of a body in his arms, skin under his hands, and his morning wood pressing against…

Sid. Oh fuck.

“G,” Sid says, voice strangled. “Are you awake? Are you…” Zhenya can hear him swallow. He’s hard too, dick nestled up against Zhenya’s thigh where Zhenya must have tangled them together and started rutting forward in his sleep.

“Oh god,” Zhenya groans, which transitions into a moan when he shifts and drags his dick over Sid’s torso. “Sorry, Sid, I’m not mean…”

“Yeah,” Sid says, half-laughing. “I mean, I figured. Been a while, huh? It’s not like you could have mistaken me for one of your girls, I’m not exactly…you know.”

Zhenya’s silence goes on for far too long to be anything but damning.

Sid feels good in his arms, feels right. His skin is somehow just as soft as it looked in the showers last night, and he’s warm, and he’s really making no effort to get out of Zhenya’s embrace.

Zhenya hesitantly moves his hips, gasping when Sid rubs back against him.

“Take the edge off,” Sid pants in his ear, and Zhenya throws away his good sense and holds Sid even closer, rutting them together until they’ve both come in their shorts, sweaty and out of breath.

Zhenya’s content to lie there and pretend the world doesn’t exist as long as possible, but Sid wiggles back far sooner than he’d like, forcing eye contact.

“Are you okay?” he asks, keeping one hand on Zhenya’s bicep and their feet tangled together. “I didn’t…you were awake, right?” He looks genuinely worried, as if he’s somehow pushed Zhenya into doing something he didn’t want to do.

It’s sweet. It’s thoughtful. It’s very Sid.

“Very awake,” Zhenya says, looking down between them and then back at Sid, waggling his eyebrows. He supposes he should be freaking out more—it turns out Alexei would have been right about what they’d be getting up to while sharing a bed—but Sid’s touch is still enough of a soporific against the curse that Zhenya just feels giddy, like he’s gotten away with something.

That will probably wear off once the curse is lifted. Sue him for enjoying it while it lasts.

“Okay, fine,” Sid says impatiently, flushing pink. “Just, I didn’t think that would be something you’d be into. Like, ever. I mean, I’ve met your friends, and I know that things are…”

Zhenya cuts him off. “Calm down,” he orders, reeling Sid back in and squeezing him until he squeaks. “It’s not big deal, like, we friends, it’s curse, things weird for now. Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Even as he says it, his chest hurts a little.

He loves Sid. Of course he does, Sid is his best friend. Zhenya’s ruthlessly crushed anything non-platonic for a man for 25 years, but Sid’s always been special.

Sid doesn’t answer for a bit. “Do you want it to not mean anything?” he finally asks, and Zhenya’s heart stops.

“Sid, I’m cursed,” he says, in lieu of actually providing a real answer. He doesn’t know what to say.

His digs his fingers into Sid’s back, though, and ducks down to press his lips to the top of Sid’s head.

“Okay,” Sid says soothingly. His fingers feel like they’re leaving sparks where they trail over Zhenya’s skin, and Zhenya’s not sure how much of that isthe curse pushing them together. “Alright, we’re just…it’s clearing out the pipes, yeah? Since you can’t be alone right now.” It’s practical, matter-of-fact. Nobody will ever know but them, but this is the sensible way to look at things. Trust Sid to come up with a neat solution they can both explain away and put behind them. Things are tidier this way.

Suddenly, Zhenya wants to make it messy. “Maybe…” he whispers, afraid to speak too loudly. “Maybe we try again. After curse.”