#weasley pov

[weasleys-bae]

Y/N: Why can't any of you ever clean up after yourselves?

Fred: I have a person who does that for me.

Y/N: Yeah, ME.

Fred: I'm glad you agree.

[handledwithgloves]

‘an ode to ron weasley’ by hermione jean granger 🩷

[thatsoanjie]

When the wind settles

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : After Ranrok was ended, a Goblin rebellion happened. This is 5 months after the rebellion, and everyone thought you were gone for good. Sebastian revisits Feldcroft in an attempt to find traces of you again, not knowing what's to come.

Word count : 1.5k

Notes : This one was a little heavier to write! Just had to get this one out of my mind.

TW : Mentions of su!c!dal ideation... read at your own discretion.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The ruins of Feldcroft lay still, a silent testament to the war that had ravaged the land. The village, once vibrant with life, was now a graveyard of memories, its cottages reduced to charred skeletons, its streets choked with debris. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and ashes, a grim reminder of all that had been lost. Snow had begun to fall again, soft and steady, as if the sky itself was mourning.

Sebastian Sallow stood in the center of what had once been his home, his heart as cold and lifeless as the stones scattered around him. It had been five months since the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion, five months since he had lost almost everything that mattered. Ominis and Anne were safe, and for that, he was grateful, but the knowledge did nothing to fill the void inside him.

Because you were gone.

The thought was a knife in his chest, a pain that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. You had been his anchor, his hope, his everything. And now you were nothing more than a memory—a ghost that haunted his every waking moment. They had told him you were dead, that you had been lost in the chaos of the battle, your body never found. He had refused to believe it at first, had scoured the wreckage for any sign of you, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the terrible truth had settled in.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt was a constant companion, a weight he could never shake. You had been the best of them, the light that had kept him going through the darkest times. And now that light was extinguished, leaving him to stumble through the shadows alone.

He had come back to Feldcroft because there was nowhere else to go. The world outside was trying to rebuild, to move on, but Sebastian was stuck in the past, trapped in a moment that he couldn’t escape. The ruins of Feldcroft were all that was left of his old life, a desolate reflection of the emptiness he carried inside him. 

He wandered through the village, his steps slow and heavy, his mind lost in the memories of what had once been. He could still see it, as if the echoes of the past were imprinted on the air—the laughter of children playing in the streets, the warm glow of lanterns in the windows, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the cottages. But those memories were like ghosts, insubstantial and fleeting, impossible to hold on to.

Just like you.

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he reached the edge of the village, where the land sloped down toward the river. This had been your favorite spot, the place where you had always come to find peace, to escape from the burdens of the world. He could almost see you there, standing by the water, your hair catching the light as you turned to smile at him.

But it was just a memory. Just another ghost.

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest unbearable. He didn’t know how to keep going without you, didn’t want to keep going. The world was a darker place without you in it, and he was so tired of stumbling through the shadows, of trying to find his way in a world that no longer made sense.

But then, through the silence, he heard it—a sound so soft, so faint, that at first, he thought it was just the wind. But it came again, more distinct this time, a footstep crunching in the snow behind him.

His heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, afraid to look, afraid to hope. And then he saw you.

You were standing just a few feet away, your figure half-hidden by the falling snow, your eyes wide with shock and something else—something that mirrored the grief and yearning that had been eating away at him for so long.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, to reconcile the image of you standing before him with the brutal reality he had been living in. It couldn’t be real. You were gone. You were a ghost.

“Sebastian,” you whispered, your voice trembling as if you, too, were afraid that this was just a dream, that you might wake up at any moment and find yourself alone again.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not real,” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You can’t be real.”

“Sebastian, it’s me,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion as you took a step toward him, your hand reaching out as if to reassure him, to prove that you were real, that you were here.

He flinched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you, his mind screaming that this couldn’t be happening, that you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief and longing. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his voice raw with the pain that had been festering inside him for months. “They told me you were dead.”

“I almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “I was hurt, Sebastian—badly. But I survived. I made it to one of the camps, and they healed me. After that, I helped wherever I could—healing, rebuilding, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. But my work there was done, I had nothing keeping me there. I had to find you.”

He stared at you, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the grief and love that shone in them. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know how to keep going without you.”

You took another step closer, your hand brushing against his arm, warm and solid and so achingly real. “I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. “We’re both here, Sebastian. We survived.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the tears he had been holding back for so long. “It should’ve been me,” he choked out, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to suffer like that. I should’ve been the one to die, not you.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice laced with a fierce, desperate kind of love. “Don’t you ever say that, Sebastian. We both fought, we both survived. And now we’re here. Alive.”

He hesitated, his heart warring with his mind, his grief and guilt battling against the overwhelming relief of having you in his arms again. “I thought I’d lost you,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he finally let himself believe what he was seeing, let himself believe that you were really here, that this wasn’t just a cruel trick of his imagination.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your touch grounding him, anchoring him in the reality of the moment. “I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Sebastian. Not now. Not ever.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a broken sob, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, as if he could somehow make up for all the lost time, for all the moments he had thought he would never have with you again. You clung to him just as fiercely, your tears soaking into his shirt as you buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he had been holding them back for too long. “I love you. I should have told you before, but I was too scared, too afraid of what might happen. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I always have, Sebastian. And I’m not going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring all of his love, all of his grief, all of his yearning into that one kiss. It was a kiss filled with the promise of tomorrow, with the hope of a future that he had thought was lost. And as he held you in his arms, surrounded by the ruins of Feldcroft, the wind swirling around you like a shroud, he knew that he had found you again.

And that was enough.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Requests are open.

[starlingflight]

Harry is Ron’s best mate. They’re inseparable. They’re practically brothers. So if Harry was seeing someone, Ron would definitely know about it.

Or so he thinks, until a game of truth or dare and a definitely-not-platonic text message suggest otherwise…

A/N thank you to @ginnyw-potter for her graphic design skills!

[shrewfern]

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 31

WARNINGS: light kissing

"Merlin's beard..." Fred whispers in disbelief.

"We've done it!" you exclaim, squealing cheerily and clapping your hands together.

"No," George says. "You've done it!" He stands up, taking your hand and leading you into an energetic dance. You both laugh as he spins you around.

"I hardly did anything," you humbly point out. "The Room gave me the last ingredient."

Before you can think about it, George passes you to Fred, who rolls his eyes and says, "Whatever! You found all of the other pieces." He ends the dance with a dip. As he cradles you in his arms, Fred leans down so his face is only inches away from yours. You can't help but giggle as he proceeds to plant multiple kisses all over your face. "Thank you, y/n," Fred says sincerely, then kisses you once more on the lips.

"Aww," you swoon and blush as Fred lifts you upright. "It was nothing really..."

"Let's collect the remaining nougat!" George says, rubbing his hands together excitedly before placing his bag on the table by the cauldron. "We can start selling tomorrow!"

Fred goes to help his twin carefully cut the purple candy into small rectangles. "Our Skiving Snackboxes are now complete!"

At hearing these words, a feeling of dread wells up inside you. The first time you'd felt this particular dread, you'd told yourself to simply stop worrying. But now that the moment had come in which the Weasley twins would no longer have use for your academic skills, you begin to panic.

"No... no, no, no, no..." you whisper. You turn away so that Fred and George don't see the tears in your eyes. But, before you can pull yourself together, the twins notice that something is wrong. The shuffling sounds at the table behind you stop.

"Y/n?" Fred asks.

"Are you alright?" George finishes.

"I-I'm fine," you reply, though your shaky voice betrays you.

You cover your face in shame as you hear the twins' footsteps coming toward you.

"Hey, hey," Fred's voice says softly, concerned. You feel his fingers try to coax your hands away from your face, but you keep your palms tight over your leaking eyes, moving away and accidentally bumping into George.

George steadies you with a gentle hug. "What's the matter?" he asks.

You choke. "It's stupid..."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," Fred consoles. His fingers pry at yours once again, and this time you let him pull your hands away from your face. You look up to meet his eyes as he stands behind George, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. He gives you an empathetic, crooked smile. The sight of it overwhelms you, bringing more tears to your eyes, and you hide your face against George's chest.

"Talk to us," George encourages. He rubs your back soothingly.

You take in a deep breath. "I... I got t-the idea into m-my head a while back... that when I was finished h-helping you with project nosebleed..." you sniff. "You wouldn't... w-want me around anymore..."

For a moment that felt like a lifetime, neither of the twins speak. Then you feel George's hold loosen around you, and you look up at his face in confusion.

"You're right," George says, his brow furrowing and his mouth in a frown. "That is stupid."

"George!" Fred hisses at him, but you just chuckle gingerly.

"I know, I know..."

George takes a step back as Fred quickly comes forward to hold your hands. He kisses the top of each. You won't look him in the eyes, so he crouches down to where he can see yours.

"Y/n," Fred sighs, shaking his head and smiling. "Have our previous affections meant nothing to you?"

You start to defend yourself. "W-well, there are some people in this world—"

You hadn't noticed him come up behind you, so you gasp in surprise when George's arms snake around your waist. He kisses the top of your head and continues, going down your temple and to your ear. He nibbles at it, causing you to giggle and squirm, but he holds you in place.

"We have no intention of ever leaving you," George whispers into your ear, and you love the sound of his voice, for something about it makes you sure he's telling the truth.

"In fact," Fred begins, pausing to glance at George attentively. You sense a moment of tension, and then George nods. Fred grins ecstatically and goes on. "We were hoping you would leave with us."

TAG LIST: @tomhockstetter7-111 @jasm-1ne @costheticbabe @luthien-elvenia-asher @megablonde22 @thecuteavocado @weasleylady92 @websfromallthespiders @rubyintheforest @weasleylover4eva @georgeweasleyslostearhq @im-coolrat @them-cute-boys @xmadigurlx @keirasinbin @huayan

[pockets-full-of-roses]

Small Touches of Affection

brief summary: ron weasley really likes when your hands touch his, such a warm feeling to remember

[i honestly don’t romanticize this boy, but i wanted to have something for him here! not my best work]

divider credits here !!

Ron Weasley was pretty overlooked by everyone. His family was too large for him to make his mark. His own friends overlooked his clever moments. Hell, his ex-girlfriend overlooked him too! All she wanted was a boyfriend. Not him.

You were his escape. You met him through your book buddy, Hermione. When you were in dire need of studying while Hermione was busy, Ron came to your aid.

He let you teach him everything and anything, from Care of Magical Creatures to Astronomy. It helped you out greatly. Your marks were higher than ever. So high your parents actually wrote you a letter to congratulate you. (I wish.)

It helped Ron out too. He liked the way you explained things, even if they didn’t make sense to others. He just liked the fact that you cared enough to do that for him.

Soon after exam season was over, the two of you would hang out constantly.

That made him begin to like you. Because he liked you, he wanted to feel your skin against his. He wanted to hold you close and never let you go.

It all started with a slight touch of the hand. While you were talking to him about your newest interest, he was building up the courage to graze his hand against yours while both of you were walking.

Ron’s breathing got heavier and heavier, his heart pounding out of his chest. You saw these, but decided it was nothing. He brushed his hand against yours.

He was scared of what you might’ve done or said. But all you did was look down, smile, and gently brush your hand back.

Ron realized he loved you a lot more than he thought at that point. He smiled back to you, motioning for you to continue.

He tried his luck again in the Great Hall, a much riskier place to touch you. You were seated at your designated table, eating peacefully with a couple selected people.

Ron took in a sharp breath, walking over to you.

“Hey..” he started in a quiet tone.

“Hey!” you replied, smiling your best smile at him.

His heart fluttered in his chest while his confidence grew and grew.

“Can I sit with you? Hermione and Harry are out doing Merlin knows what.”

You had laughed with a nod, patting the seat beside you. He had smiled proudly. Phase one, done.

“So what’s up?” Ron asked, waiting for your daily rant. He loved hearing you talk. He loved your voice.

While you started your rant, he moved his hand right beside yours. Slowly, he inched closer and closer. Then, without warning, he put his hand on top of yours.

Your words came to a complete stop. He looked anxious and was worried he took a step too far.

Before he could pull away, your fingers interlocked with his.

“I quite like this,” you muttered quietly.

“Me too,” Ron smiled with his reply.

It became a daily thing for you two to hold each other while you spoke.

Ron would hold your hands, while you, with a rather flushed face, would talk about all sorts of things. He’d respond, adding his own rant to you.

You loved each others’ voices. And that was enough.

all writing by pockets full of roses. please do not repost without permission. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[snail-pot]

So. I don't know bout you guys, but I get excited when I reach these "bookmark milestones" (ex. I've bookmarked 200 fics, I've bookmarked 300 fics, etc etc). ANYWAY, I was thinking, to celebrate my 400th bookmark, why not make a list of Harry Potter fics I've bookmarked throughout my time on Ao3?

Gen: [AKA General Relationships, Little to No Romance]

"riding up the wrong path" by ashen_key [Lily Luna Potter, Character Study, Oneshot]

When Lily is eighteen, she cuts her hair and joins the army. The British Army. The British Muggle Army. Despite what the gossip papers say, she leaves her wand at home. She's not a complete idiot. – – Oh, right. Maybe take a few steps back.

"The Statute of Secrecy" by Shairanna [Muggle POV, Muggles, Crack Treated Seriously, Oneshot]

They were, of course, just Muggles, and as such had no idea that magic was real, and that wizards and witches lived hidden among them. Or so the witches and wizards thought.

"The Time That Wood Didn't Play" by HPfanatic12 [Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley, Humor, Oneshot]

Due to an injury, Oliver has to stay off the field for a bit and Lee Jordan offers him the opportunity to be the quidditch commentator. Professor McGonagall allows it Only to discover that Wood is much worse than Jordan ever was

"In Which Lucy Despises Sundays" by HPfanatic12 [Lucy Weasley, Percy Weasley, Next Gen, Family Issues]

Lucy didn't like Sundays all that much And it all has to do with how people treat her dad

"Home Alone: The Battle of Hogwarts" by Kosaji [Crossover, Kevin McCallister, Crack Treated Seriously, Multi-chapter, Completed]

Based off this prompt from writing-prompt.tumblr.com: Harry, Hermione, and Ron are killed interrupted early in their search for Horcruxes. Voldemort orders a full invasion of Hogwarts to find the remaining ones. In a panic, Hogwarts is evacuated. One student slept through the evacuation order: 4th year American transfer student Kevin McCallister.

"'Hope' is a Thing With Feathers" by PeachyKeener [Percy Weasley, Weasley Family, Family Issues, No Bashing, Oneshot]

A coward in the eyes of his family he may be but if he had the chance to save even one life he would take it. What Percy Weasley did during the war, in brief moments, and the reconciliation of his family.

"Ron Weasley, Dad of the Gryffindor Tower" by likes_koolaid [Ron Weasley, Gryffindor Boys, Fatherly Advice, Oneshot]

5 times Ron acted like a dad. Aka 5 times the boys in the dorm (minus Ron) didn't have fathers

"Consanguinity" by StygiasCanes [Percy Weasley, Weasley Family, Angst, Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Multi-chapter, Ongoing]

The Second Wizarding War ends, but Percy is nowhere to be found. Six months later, a traumatized Percy is rescued from a Death Eater hideout. How do the Weasleys put their family back together when Percy never had the chance to redeem himself at the final battle, and will they be able to help Percy recover?

"You're Not Supposed to be Here?" by pretty_scary_vampire [Muggle Shenanigans, Crack Treated Seriously]

Muggles can't see Hogwarts in all its glory. Instead, they see smoking, crumbling ruins that they avoid at all costs in fear of being crushed to death. What happens when a young woman decides that she's going to explore Hogwarts? Chaos, an annoyed Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall being ignored, and never ending giggling, that's what.

Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood: [Romance]

"Oliver's Obsession" by orphan_account [Teen]

The Gryffindor Quidditch team is fed up with Oliver constantly pestering them. They decide to do something about it.

"Still think he's the weakest" by Hhhhhheeeeeelloo1 [Not Rated]

Based on that b99 scene where Jake jumps into Terry’s arms when he was holding coffee. You know the one. But with Percy and Oliver.

"Strip poker (and other dangers" by SquaresAreNotCircles [Teen]

“Strip poker?” Oliver offered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, just as the compartment door slid open. “Er,” Percy said. Or: Oliver and his best friend are bored, Percy has incredible timing and everybody keeps their clothes on.

"The Hottest Weasley" by orphan_account [Teen]

A notice appears in the Gryffindor common room, asking a very important question: Who Is The Hottest Weasley?

"Preparing" by orphan_account [Teen]

The Gryffindor quidditch team prepare their captain for one of the most important events of his life.

"It's the truth" by SquaresAreNotCircles [Teen]

Fred and George refuse to believe Percy has a girlfriend. Oliver seems to know more. It's all very mysterious, until it isn't.

"good old-fashioned loverboy" by aeoneskova [Teen]

Due to a slight mix-up in calculations, Percy Weasley ends up sharing his dorm with only one other person. Unfortunately, that person just so happens to be the complete opposite of Percy himself. In order to avoid the inevitability of strangling Oliver Wood by seventh year, Percy moves their beds to opposite sides of the dorm. However, over their years at school, circumstances gradually bring them closer together. or; Percy Weasley being irritated for 7 years straight. Ironically, it’s very gay.

"In Which Fred and George Weasley Go Through the 5 Stages of Grief Because their Brother is Dating Their Quidditch Captain" by apollospec [Teen]

[NO SUMMARY AVAILABLE]

"At least he has great abs" by Irisen [Teen]

There's nothing quite like waking up to your mother texting you a picture of your soulmate's abs.

"Burn Across the Sky" by MoonytheMarauder1 (beforethemoon) [Teen]

Suddenly, Oliver stopped speaking. His brown eyes had locked onto something on the other end of the Quidditch Pitch, and a grin overtook his features—completely unlike the serious scowl that had been sitting there before. Wide-eyed with shock, the Gryffindor Quidditch team turned as one to find the source of Oliver's distraction. The only thing that could have caused it, however, was the person walking briskly past the stands, a stack of books in his arms and a worn Gryffindor scarf wrapped snugly around his neck: Percy Weasley. Harry turned around just in time to watch Fred, George, and Ron's jaws drop as one. The three Weasleys glanced from their captain to their brother, then back again. Fred was the first to speak. "You're shitting me," he breathed. o.o.o Or, When Oliver Wood stops talking about Quidditch to stare at Percy Weasley, Ron, Fred, and George know something is up.

"The Exploding Charm" by perilouspursuits [Teen]

It's funny the things that come back to hurt and help you. In the end Percy chooses a side and it doesn't take long for him to know he's chosen right.

Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas: [ROMANCE]

"It's Tough to Have a Crush" by obliviateme [Teen]

Dean Thomas has had a crush on Seamus Finnigan since second year. Four years later, Seamus kisses him on the way back from a Hogsmeade trip. A week after that, they still haven't spoken about it. Dean struggles to bring up his feelings, and he's not sure if Seamus will let him down about this.

"The Perfect Vows" by KillianJones32 [Gen]

“You’re okay with writing our own vows right?” Dean had asked him over three months ago. Dean had looked at him with those big brown eyes and wide grin and really how was Seamus supposed to say no? But now the time had actually come to writing those vows and Seamus was struggling, quite a bit actually.

"Painting Seamus" by KillianJones32 [Teen]

Dean is an artist who hasn’t submitted anything for his portfolio in weeks and he ends up doing a painting of his roommate Seamus who he's had a crush on for over a year.

"Breakfast in Company" by Anemone_nemerosa [Teen]

Prompt: I run a bed & breakfast and you showed up for your reservation alone. Do you understand what the purpose of a b&b is? It's a bright and sunny day mid-October when Dean meets the most peculiar person to ever enter his life.

"Doodles" by fandomgalore [Gen]

Dean likes to doodle to keep his hands occupied. Over the years, his doodling subject range narrows down to one.

"(Star)Gazing at You" by Three Guesses (Thr3eGuess3s) [Gen]

It's Christmas and all Seamus wants to do is get Dean alone under the mistletoe, but Hogwarts and it's mysteries may just get in the way of that. (Yes, btw, I am indeed aware that I'm posting a Christmas fic in July don't @ me)

"A Slight Pyromaniac's Guide to Love and Potions Class" by Anonymous [Gen]

Seamus Finnigan is Potions partners with Dean Thomas. They're making Amortentia. What an inconvenient time to be in love with your best friend. // Inspired by a tiktok by @mariuslee! It's where I got the dialogue for the actual Amortentia scene from, and it inspired me to write this whole fic in the first place!

"Write on Me" by orphan_account [Gen]

At the age of 17 everyone gets a tattoo of their soulmates name in their hand writing. Or the one where Dean won't tell Seamus who his soulmate is until Seamus's birthday.

"ní bhíonn toit gan tine" by fallthroughtimelikeme [Explicit]

Dean is staying over in Séamus's house for part of the summer holidays. Stormy nights, cuddling in bed, awkwardness, and sex ensues.

"Lost Bed, Found Love" by NearlyHeadlessNicci [Explicit]

A Prank War amongst the Gryffindor Eighth Year Boys gets slightly out of hand. Dean ends up suffering some undeserved consequences, but does he really suffer?

"Hiding Scrawl, Licking Freckles, and Other Average Wizard Things" by tamerofdarkstars [Gen]

Someone out there is obsessed with his freckles, and damn it, Seamus Finnigan wants to know who. - Uselessly fluffy Soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in an shifting magic tattoo

"The Truth in Black and White" by brokenbottleaurora [Teen]

Seamus and Dean are already best mates- but could they be soulmates? After the first 6th year potions class, the answer is clear. Pure Deamus fluff. Not canon compliant (shifted timeline).

"watch the stars burst into light" by anonymous_koala [Gen]

After Dean's 18th birthday, he's finally able to communicate with his soulmate. Who are they? Will he ever get to meet them? A soulmates can see everything written on the other's skin AU.

Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood: [ROMANCE]

"darling, the mess is half the fun" by slyther_ing [Teen]

In retrospect, the twins probably could've gotten their answer by just asking Oliver whether he and Flint were a thing - but when have they done anything the easy way? (In which the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams attempt to get their captains together, and Marcus' reputation suffers.)

"Your feet above the ground" by Phantomato [Explicit]

And if he’d attended potions, and couldn’t remember anything, and was now groggy and prone in front of multiple professors in the Hogwarts infirmary, that could only mean one thing: potions accident.

"Come a little closer" by MInnie0503 [Teen]

Marcus Flint gets engaged. Oliver Wood starts a fight. They both end up with ten shared detentions and it all goes tits up from there. Or: How many detentions does it take for two boys to admit they like each other?

"The Inked Snitch" by your_token_trophy_wife [Teen]

While Oliver’s quidditch days may be over, his quidditch supply shop is near perfection. Perhaps he’s a little lonely and a tad sheltered too, but Oliver would much rather keep to himself than have his heart broken. That’s not too much to ask for is it? Though when a magical tattoo shop opens up next door, Oliver’s in for a lot of surprises, including bad flirting, third-wheeling and the return of an old rival. Alternatively: A shop!AU where both shopkeepers are hopeless at flirting, great at drawing conclusions and absolutely inept at talking about their feelings.

"Adversary" by RoemaencePartnaerr [Teen]

Oliver was pretty sure he had shaken hands with every other person in the school, yet he still hadn't met his soulmate.

"chalk this one up as a win" by tamerofdarkstars [Teen]

Oliver Wood wakes up in the Hospital Wing a week after his first Quidditch game ever with a head injury and his soulmate's thoughts wound around his left wrist. Frankly, he's more concerned about missing the Quidditch game.

"rolling with the punches" by sadie18 (orphan_account) [Gen]

no matter what- the era, the age, the universe, muggle or wizard- oliver wood was always there - alternatively, marcus has a long dream, he wakes up in a different reality every day, and he just can't get away from oliver wood note: the plot isn't apparent from the very beginning, so stick with it please! it clicks into place

"you're good at quidditch" by ramathorne [Not Rated; FANART]

A 4 page comic interpretation of a scene from chalk this one up as a win. slightly unfinished. still made with love.

"Does it smell like bleach to you?" by Surperb [Teen]

Oliver Wood overhears a private conversation while cleaning the broom shed.

"what my hands were made for" by hexiewrites [Teen]

There had been a small silver Quaffle inked into the skin on Oliver’s right hipbone since before he knew how to walk. His mother had gasped delightedly the day it had appeared, shimmering onto his skin as if by magic.

OTHER FICS: [The ones that don't really fit into a specific category, but I love and appreciate them regardless]

"Ottery St. Catchpole" by Erisah_Mae [Teen]

Tumblr Prompt from accio shitpost: "i wanna see a muggle who goes stealth among wizards purely by having a ridiculous aesthetic" A muggle moves to Ottery St Catchpole a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts, and there's a slight misunderstanding.

"A Touch of Mystery" by Edie_K [Teen]

At their weekly lunch, the Weasley brothers learn some surprising new information and the balance of power shifts. Canon compliant, set two years after DH.

"A Crown of Lilac Fingertips" by wickersnap [Teen, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley]

When they’d shaken hands on the train and Harry had pulled back with a bright, grass green imprint on his hand, he had gasped, excited, and asked Ron what it was. At thirteen years old green becomes lilac, and at fourteen lilac becomes red. At seventeen it's both, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

"The Sign" by Hang_In_There_Baby_Crookshanks [Gen, Justin Finch-Fletchley/Ernie Macmillan]

Justin Finch-Fletchley thinks he has zero chance of being asked out for Valentine's Day. Is he about to be pleasantly surprised? Or will the irritating muggle song that he seems to be the only one able to hear drive him crazy first?

"why not both" by varnes [Mature, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley/Viktor Krum]

“Small baby,” Krum diagnosed, sounding delighted by this. “World too big, yes? Wants back in small, warm place, yes?” Ron realized that he was holding his breath. He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking at Krum like she was definitely, absolutely going to leave Ron for him, and honestly, at this moment, Ron felt that was fair. Ron was going to leave himself for Krum. Ron was going to rob all the banks in the world to get Viktor Krum back his money as long as it meant he’d keep their beautiful, perfect, angelic monster of a screaming baby quiet. “I want to be in a small, warm place,” Hermione muttered, and then squeaked a little realizing she’d said it out loud. Rose giggled. “Shidole,” she whispered, looking pleased and interested, smacking at Krum’s chest. “Rose, don’t call our guests shitholes,” Hermione scolded, and then said, “Viktor, you can stay as long as you like.” - Or: The Ron/Hermione/Krum fic that absolutely nobody was hankering for in the year of our Lord 2020.

"can take the sting (if you heal my bruises)" by oliverwvvd [Teen, Cormac McLaggen/Ron Weasley, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood]

Prompted by peachpety for Quidditch Fest 2021. I hope this fulfils what you hoped for to some degree! Cormac McLaggen and Oliver Wood hold the record for the two Keepers in the Quidditch league with the most injuries to date respectively. Oliver plays it risky and ends up in the hands of an exasperated Marcus Flint, ex-Montrose Magpies player turned Healer. Cormac, on the other hand, has a persistent crush on Ron that everyone knows about...except for Ron, who is oblivious, right up until the moment that he isn't. [Original prompt/request: Person A plays professional Quidditch and is prone to injury. All the more reason to see the team physician, his secret crush. Person B is the exasperated team physician at his wit's end with the only player for whom he pines. UST OUT THE WAZOO & happy endings, please.]

"Petunia Evans, a Retelling" by HouseElfMagic [Teen]

Petunia remembered magic. Being young and making things happen--strange things, impossible things--and then the pain when that man took it all away, locked it inside her. She doesn't get it back until Lily's started Hogwarts already and by then she's old enough to decide she wants to keep her own magic a secret. She didn't know that this would ultimately lead her on a quest to raise her nephew and defeat an evil megalomaniac calling himself Voldemort. But, well, here she is. She will do whatever it takes to keep her nephew safe. And hey, if she gets a pseudo father, rescues a convict, makes friends, becomes an almost permanent babysitter to two additional children, and writes books along the way, then that's a definite bonus.

"Like a Dream" by orphan_account [Teen, Viktor Krum/Ron Weasley]

Ron's life had been in a routine for so long. He did his job as an Auror even though he didn't love it, he lived alone but decided he was okay with it, and he ignored that his soulmate was a person who felt more like a fantasy than a reality.

"Loopholes" by orphan_account [Gen, Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan]

To prank his well despised DADA professor, Umbridge, after she put up a decree that prohibits boys from being too close to girls, George Weasley ingeniously finds a loophole and eventually gets his twin brother and his best friend to fake date. Which, however, wasn't going to last long in the first place, especially due to Lee's annoying crush on Fred.

"the art of bending rules" by orphan_account [Gen, Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan]

Umbridge thinks the only way to control the rebels at Hogwarts is to put up rules — and more rules, and then a few more rules after that. Unfortunately, what she doesn’t understand is that there is nothing most rebels are better at than bending the rules. It’s an art to perfect, as Fred says.

Happy reading! Don't be afraid to ask for recs and I'll do my best to answer them :))

[fizzyginfizz]

QUIDDITCH is for LOSERS - Chapter 17 - "New Plan"

New Chapter!

“You will be surprised and not surprised and delighted but also upset about the unexpected!” “Hormononees,” Ginny sighed.

The Beginning / Latest Chapter

A million shout-outs and thank yous to @honeydukesheroine for cheerleading, betareading and Ginny-nerding.

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

i remember. [g.w. x reader]

--

The day you walked into my store, I remember briefly restocking skiving snack boxes. I remember that twinkle in your eyes that I couldn't seem to look away from, ultimately leading me to falling off my ladder; painfully landing on my arse.

It was beautiful — you were (and still are) beautiful. I could sense that mischief in you the second you walked through that door. You had a passion for the art of trouble-making, though at the time you hadn't made your particular proclivity for it known.

Your soft hands feeling through the joke products, picking one up and scrutinising it to your heart's content knowing I had my watchful eyes over you, the skiving snack boxes long forgotten. It didn't take long for me to feel inclined to you— to strike some form of conversation.

Subsequently enough, I did. The way the words seem to seamlessly roll off my tongue now that your focus was all on me. Out of decorum for customers, I bit back the snark remarks I had, though later on we'd be dancing through fields at night cussing like sailors under the influence of ecstasy, and greeted you like how I did to every other patron. With a painfully polite smile, and painfully polite words. My charm worked on you later on, of course.

I remembered you again, years prior, walking through the halls with your pack. You always did travel in packs— in the center, untouchable, you were a higher being. I recall how your hair flowed like a stream of water, and how your robes tailed behind you like a wedding gown, and of course, later on again, I'd have the pleasure of seeing you stride towards me decked in all-white with your face covered by meticulously-chosen silk.

At that time, I thought to myself, "Merlin, just give me her and I'm all set." And thank Merlin for hearing my pleas, as I lift up the veil slowly. First, your cherry-red lips, the shade I had always adored on you. Then, your beautifully crafted nose I had to thank your mother for sculpting with so much love and grace. Lastly, with much anticipation, the center of the universe; your eyes.

I always cheesily joked about getting lost in them, and ironically enough, I did.

I remember on our wedding day, after lifting up your veil, I felt a snitch catch in my throat with its wings still fluttering. In retrospect, it was my stomach doing millions of Wronski Feints. How could it not when your eyes looked back at me? I felt like a nervous teenager professing his love— but we were seconds away from linking ties and changing your last name to 'Weasley'.

I remember how Fred wolf-whistled in the crowd, but he wasn't there. That delusion rudely shocked me back to the present.

You said, "I do."

I had missed a huge chunk of what the pastor said, but soon the crowd was cheering and you had your arms around my neck. Then we kissed.

Then it dawned on me— that untouchable girl in the hallway was now a Weasley.

--

[weasleys-bae]

Y/N: Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons?

Fred&George: Fake?

[rewritingcanon]

someone needs to make a fanfic where instead of standing to the side and sulking albus just decides to go full on in with his efforts for scorpius.

Homie would be throwing pianos on people fr

WAIT WAIT i need to say something and idk how it’ll be received amongst the masses but I NEED TO SAY IT

albus pov fanfics >> scorp pov fanfics

whyyyy do you ask? because of the 👏gold👏tier👏PINING👏 i want to see that boy sufferrrrr in his feelings. i want this guy to be screaming crying ripping his hair out. put this boy in the trenches and i will gobble that shit up. and i seriously genuinely dont want it to be scorpius because i honestly think scorpius is too swaggy to be as fucking crazy as albus would be LET ME TELL YOU.

albus with his crippling ego stopping him from actively pursuing scorpius more but the fucking second resident-hogwarts-icon polly chapman and her gang of gossips and side bitches start noticing scorpius albus stops fucking around fr. the fucking notebooks are coming out. he’s drawing up plans and shit (they’re all pretty bad because all of albus’ braincells literally come from scorp and rose who he can’t use). he’s getting together an elite squad (his crusty siblings). he’s doing the fucking RESEARCH (reading jane austen and trying to understand how to seduce someone). he’s ringing up his mama and getting her to send tutorials to him on how to bat-bogey a motherfucker so when he sees those grade-A-menaces pulling up on scorpius it is ON SIGHT.

plus he’s a fucking fourteen year old like what kind of gay confidence-crippled fourteen year old in love with their bsf is not going to be delulu?

[thatsoanjie]

Lessons in tension

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : You and Sebastian resolve the skirmish in Feldcroft, where Sebastian gets to witness your magical abilities firsthand. Family drama ensues. Back at Hogwarts, will things have changed for good between you and Sebastian? Or will the friendship last the lessons in tension?

Word count : 6.3k

Notes : Whew! Glad to get this one out there. This was an idea i've been sitting on for a while. Enjoy!

CW : Writing in details about a part of the In The Shadow Of Time quest... 1-2 lines that are gorier if you're not too fond of it lol.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The distant rumble of battle reverberated through the air as you and Sebastian hurried along the path to Feldcroft, the familiar cobblestone crunching under your feet. In the distance, you could see the dark plumes of smoke rising from the small village, curling like tendrils of a nightmare. The sky above had dulled, casting the entire landscape in an eerie, muted glow. There was a chill in the wind, one that cut through your robes and sent a ripple of unease through you.

Sebastian’s expression was grim, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face stood out sharply. He hadn’t said much since the first signs of attack reached Hogwarts, but you could feel the worry radiating off him in waves. The desperation to protect what was left of his family—of his sister—was palpable, and you felt it too.

As the village came into view, chaos unfolded before you. Goblins swarmed the streets, their voices harsh and guttural as they gave orders to one another. Solomon’s home stood at the far end, fortifications shimmering as he worked tirelessly to hold off the onslaught, protecting Anne, who you knew was tucked safely inside.

Sebastian slowed, scanning the scene. “They’ve breached the perimeter,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His hand hovered near his wand, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into action. “Anne’s inside. She’s safe. Solomon’s strong enough to hold for a while, but...”

His words trailed off as his eyes flicked to you. There was a silent understanding between you. There wasn’t time for hesitation. Without a word, Sebastian drew his wand, and you both plunged into the fray.

You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, his wand a seamless extension of himself. The spells that shot from his fingertips were precise, sharp, and relentless. He dodged a goblin’s swing with effortless grace, retaliating with a barrage of quick-fire hexes that sent his opponent sprawling. His movements were so fluid, so practiced, that for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to simply watch.

He was relentless—driven by something deeper than the need to fight. His need to protect Anne, his need to redeem himself for past choices, all of it was in the way he fought, his expression a storm of determination and pain.

You followed his lead at first, relying on your own wandwork, though the familiar hum of ancient magic buzzed faintly under your skin. You’d told him once, about the magic you could wield. The kind that didn’t rely on incantations or hand movements. The kind that answered to something far more primal. But Sebastian had brushed it off, teasing you at first, then simply chalking it up to exaggeration, to the overblown tales that often circulated among students. He had never believed it fully.

Not until now.

A goblin lunged at you from your left, its weapon raised high, and instinct took over. You sidestepped, your wand flicking as you sent a blast of Depulso into its chest. The goblin staggered back but didn’t fall. There were too many. They kept multiplying, flooding the village like a relentless tide.

Your magic stirred again—stronger this time. And you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to stop holding it back.

Sebastian glanced at you between spells, the same flicker of concern shadowing his features. He didn’t say it, but you could tell he was worried. Feldcroft was slipping, and you both knew that simple spells wouldn’t be enough. Not for long.

Another group of goblins surged from the far end of the village, overwhelming the villagers and the few Aurors who had managed to arrive. You cast another spell, but the creatures barely slowed. And then, just as one raised its axe toward Sebastian, you acted on instinct.

You didn’t shout an incantation. You didn’t need to.

The ancient magic surged forward as if it had been waiting, thrumming through your veins, your fingertips tingling with raw power. You raised your hand, and the air around you seemed to ripple, distorting for a brief moment. The goblin was lifted off its feet, caught in the invisible force, and before anyone could react, you slammed it into the ground with a deafening crack. The earth trembled beneath your feet, and dust rose from the crater left in the goblin’s wake.

For a second, everything stopped.

Sebastian turned toward you, his face drained of color, eyes wide. There was no teasing in his expression this time—only disbelief, awe, and something darker, something closer to fear. He had seen you cast powerful spells before, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered, ancient power, and you could see the realization dawning in his eyes.

But there wasn’t time for him to fully process it. The battle raged on.

You could feel it now, the pull of the magic inside you, urging you to let it loose. And with each passing moment, the goblins kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. Your wand movements grew faster, more frantic, as the realization struck you that even with this magic, you might not be able to stop them all.

“Sebastian!” you called over the noise, as another group of goblins appeared on the horizon. “We can’t hold them like this. There’s too many!”

He nodded, his eyes still darting between you and the goblins. “I know.” His voice was rough, strained. “But we don’t have a choice.”

That was when you felt it again—the overwhelming surge of power, more potent than before, more insistent. Your ancient magic flared, burning brighter, and you knew what had to be done. Without a word, you stepped forward, letting the magic take control.

The sky above you darkened further, clouds swirling as a tempest gathered overhead. You raised your wand, the air around you crackling with energy. Blue light arced from the tip of your wand, a wild, electric storm forming in the sky. You could hear the low rumble of thunder, the buildup of something immense, something destructive.

And then, with a single motion, you brought your wand down.

Light blue thunder, brilliant and blinding, streaked down from the heavens, striking the goblins in front of you with terrifying precision. Four of them collapsed instantly, their bodies convulsing in the electric storm before they lay still, smoke curling from their forms.

The village fell silent. Even the remaining goblins hesitated, staring at the destruction you had wrought. The storm above you dissipated slowly, the last remnants of the blue light fading into the clouds. You stood there, breathless, your hand still tingling from the raw energy that had coursed through it.

Sebastian was staring at you again, but this time, he wasn’t moving. His wand was still at his side, forgotten. His face was unreadable, a storm of emotions fighting for dominance. He swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step toward you.

“You… you weren’t exaggerating,” he said, his voice hoarse. His eyes were wide, still locked onto you as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had seen. “I thought you were just—” He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. “That was...”

You waited for him to continue, unsure of what he might say. The battlefield was littered with the bodies of goblins, and yet, all you could focus on was the way he looked at you now—both terrified and captivated, both in awe and at a loss for words.

Sebastian finally stopped in front of you, close enough that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were darker now, filled with something deeper. “You could’ve told me,” he murmured, a hint of something accusatory in his tone. But then his lips twitched, a ghost of a smile, and he added, “Not that I would’ve believed you.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh, feeling the tension slowly ease out of your body. “I did tell you,” you reminded him. “You just didn’t want to listen.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the two of you stood there in the quiet aftermath of the battle, the sounds of distant conflict fading into the background. The magic had left its mark on both of you, but there was a new understanding between you now. A shift that neither of you could ignore.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “But I do now.”

And in the lingering silence, you knew that things had changed. This was no longer just a fight for Feldcroft. Something far deeper had been unleashed—something that neither of you could walk away from.

The goblins' numbers had dwindled, their forces scattering like shadows as the last of their kind fell beneath the weight of your combined spells. The crackling tension in the air began to settle, but the smell of smoke and blood still clung to the village. Your chest heaved with the effort, each breath pulling in the heavy scent of battle as you and Sebastian dispatched the final goblin together.

But before the adrenaline could fully subside, a new danger emerged. In the corner of your eye, you saw her—Anne. She had stepped outside the house, no longer under Solomon's watchful guard. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, weakened and unaware of the goblin charging toward her, its jagged blade raised high.

Sebastian’s body moved before yours could react, his expression darkening with the speed of his choice. His wand snapped out in a motion that was almost instinctive, and with a sharp flick, he cast the spell you never expected him to use.

“Imperio!”

The curse shot from his wand, striking the goblin mere feet from Anne. Time seemed to slow, and in an instant, the goblin’s wild charge halted. Its eyes glazed over, the frenzy of battle drained from its features as Sebastian’s control took hold. The goblin’s hand, still gripping its weapon, trembled slightly as it turned, locking eyes with Sebastian. There was no sound, no words spoken aloud, but you could feel the silent command pass between them like a whisper in the air.

The goblin raised the blade to its own throat.

And with a sickening, fluid motion, it dragged the weapon across its neck. Blood sprayed the ground as the goblin collapsed, lifeless, at Anne’s feet.

For a long moment, the village fell into an eerie silence. The only sound was the soft gasp of breath escaping Anne’s lips as she stared at the scene before her, wide-eyed, her face ashen with shock.

Sebastian was panting beside you, his wand still raised, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes were wild, filled with equal parts relief and fury. He had saved his sister. But in doing so, he had crossed a line.

You could see it in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if the weight of the curse itself had pressed into him. He turned toward Anne, taking a step forward, but before he could reach her, a cold, familiar voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

“Boy, what have you done?”

Solomon’s voice was thick with disbelief, his expression one of horror and anger as he stood in the doorway, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He had witnessed everything—the curse, the bloodshed, the moment Sebastian had made his choice. His eyes locked onto Sebastian, and there was something bitter in them, something that stung deeper than mere anger.

Sebastian flinched at the sound, spinning to face his uncle, but the defiance was still there in his eyes. His hand tightened around his wand as he faced Solomon, unrepentant.

Sebastian shouted, his voice raw with emotion. “Saved my sister, I—”

“With an Unforgivable Curse!” Solomon's voice boomed, drowning out Sebastian’s protest. His face twisted with a mix of fury and betrayal, his eyes flickering to the blood-soaked goblin on the ground. “From that damned book, no doubt!”

You watched as Solomon’s words hit Sebastian like a physical blow. The mention of the book—Salazar Slytherin's personal book of spells and magic —seemed to pull the air from his lungs. For a brief moment, you saw the boy you had known for so long, the one who was always so sure of himself, crumble under the weight of Solomon’s accusation.

Solomon shook his head, disgust etched into every line of his face. He turned toward Anne, who still sat on the ground, her hands trembling as she stared blankly ahead, clearly in shock from the ordeal. With a gentleness that seemed at odds with the fury radiating from him, Solomon bent down and scooped her into his arms.

Anne didn’t resist. She didn’t say a word. She only looked at Sebastian as if seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Sadness? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it cut through the air between them like a knife.

“Your father would be ashamed,” Solomon said bitterly as he straightened, cradling Anne against him. His voice was quiet now, but no less harsh. “You’ve gone too far, Sebastian.”

Sebastian took a step forward, his face pale, his hands trembling. “Solomon, I—”

“Stay away from her.” Solomon’s voice was ice, his eyes burning with an unyielding anger. He looked at Sebastian with such disdain that it made your stomach turn. “From all of us.”

And with that, Solomon turned his back on him, leading Anne back inside the house without another word. The door shut with a dull thud, leaving the two of you standing alone in the fading light of Feldcroft.

Sebastian didn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at the closed door, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. His wand hung limply at his side, and for the first time since the battle had started, you saw the weight of his actions crash down on him all at once.

The silence between you was deafening.

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing that could fix this—nothing that could take back what had just happened. You watched him, waiting for something, anything. But he just stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the house where his sister and uncle had disappeared.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I had to.”

There was no conviction in his words. No fire. Just the raw, unfiltered pain of someone who had believed, truly believed, that they were doing the right thing—only to be cast out for it.

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, hoping to ground him in the present. “Sebastian…”

But he pulled away, his face twisting into something desperate and broken. “I had to,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself more than you. His voice cracked, and for the first time, he looked at you—not with the stubborn defiance you had come to expect, but with the hollow, haunted look of someone who had lost everything.

You stood there, watching Sebastian as the last light of day slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the two of you in a twilight that felt colder than it should have. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something that might reach him, but the words felt clumsy, inadequate. What could you say to someone who had just been cast out by his own family?

“Sebastian…” you began softly, trying to keep your voice calm, steady. You reached out again, tentatively placing your hand on his arm. “You did what you thought was right.”

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, pain, maybe even relief. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same indignant fire that had been burning in him since the moment Solomon had spoken.

“Don’t,” he snapped, shrugging your hand off his arm as if it burned him. “Don’t try to make this better. You saw what happened.”

“I know,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. “I was there. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I saved her!” Sebastian interrupted, his voice rising. “I did what I had to. You heard him—he would’ve let that goblin kill her if it meant sticking to his precious rules.”

You could feel the tension building between you, thickening with every word. He was spiraling, his emotions crashing together in a storm that he couldn’t contain. You’d seen this before—the way he lashed out when he felt cornered, when he didn’t know how to deal with the mess of feelings inside him. But this time, it was different. This time, the stakes were higher, and the damage was already done.

“I know you did,” you said, keeping your voice low, trying to pull him back from the edge. “But Imperio, Sebastian? You—”

“What?” he barked, rounding on you, eyes blazing. “You’re going to lecture me now, too? I did what I had to. What was I supposed to do, let her die?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t,” he snarled, his chest heaving with anger. “Don’t stand there and act like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I saved her. I saved my sister, and I’d do it again. I don’t care what Solomon thinks.”

His words stung, more than you wanted to admit. You weren’t trying to make him feel worse, but it was like he couldn’t see past the hurt and rage burning inside him. Every attempt you made to comfort him seemed to ricochet back, twisted into something bitter.

“I’m not saying you did the wrong thing,” you said carefully, taking a step toward him. “But you have to—”

“I have to what?” His voice cracked, the emotion pouring out in sharp bursts. “I have to follow their rules? Their pathetic rules that don’t protect anyone? Look where that got us!”

“Sebastian, I’m trying to help you—”

“Well, don’t!” he shouted, cutting you off again. His face was flushed now, the anger radiating from him in waves. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you felt a sharp pang in your chest. It wasn’t true. You knew it wasn’t true. But right now, Sebastian was too blinded by his own pain to see anything else.

“You’re not thinking straight,” you said, your own frustration starting to seep into your voice. “You’re upset, and I get that, but—”

“Of course I’m upset!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “My uncle just threw me out of my own family, in front of my sister, for saving her life!”

You stepped closer, trying to close the gap between you. “But I’m here, Sebastian. I’m with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and something raw, something vulnerable that he was trying to hide. He turned away from you, his hand running through his hair, gripping at the strands as if he could pull himself back together.

“I need space,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d been so focused on getting through to him, on making him see reason, that you hadn’t expected him to pull away like this.

“Sebastian—”

“I need space,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. He finally turned to face you again, his eyes dark, filled with the same turmoil you’d seen in him since the skirmish started. “I can’t… I just can’t deal with this. Not with you, not with anyone.”

The finality in his voice struck deep, and before you could respond, before you could even process what he was saying, he had already pulled away from you entirely.

He took a step back, his wand raised slightly. “I need time to think.”

And then, with a sharp twist, he Disapparated, the familiar crack echoing through the village, leaving you alone in the quiet devastation of Feldcroft.

The moment Sebastian vanished, the quiet in Feldcroft became unbearable. The weight of his words, the tension that had crackled between you—it all lingered in the air, settling into your bones like the cold creeping through the evening mist. The village around you felt distant now, the battle's aftermath fading into the background as your mind raced.

You glanced toward the sky, feeling the familiar tug of your broom at your side, and without hesitation, you mounted it, kicking off the ground and soaring into the air. The wind whipped through your hair, the cold bite of the evening air sharp against your skin, but it did little to clear your thoughts. Each beat of your broom’s ascent felt heavy, your heart still pounding from the argument that had just unfolded.

He needs space. That was the last thing he’d said, his voice raw and defensive. He couldn’t even look at you when he said it. But the way he’d stormed off, the fire in his eyes—it wasn’t just anger at Solomon, or the situation. It was directed at you too. That’s what hurt the most.

You flew faster, the familiar outline of Hogwarts in the distance growing closer, but the rush of wind and speed wasn’t enough to quiet the storm in your mind.

Why didn’t he listen? you thought, replaying the conversation in your head, again and again. Every word felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. You had been trying to help him—trying to make him see that he wasn’t alone in this. But he couldn’t hear you. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

Your hands tightened on the broom handle as the memory of his voice, sharp and bitter, echoed in your mind. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” The way he said it—it felt like he was pushing you away on purpose. But why? Was it just the heat of the moment, or was there something deeper?

The wind howled in your ears as you banked sharply to the left, circling over the Forbidden Forest. The trees blurred beneath you, but your mind stayed locked on him. Sebastian had always been stubborn. He’d always acted out when things didn’t go his way. But this… this was different. There had been a darkness in his eyes back there, something you hadn’t seen before. Something that unsettled you.

He’s not thinking clearly, you told yourself, trying to make sense of it all. He’s hurt. He’s scared for Anne. That’s why he lashed out. But even as you thought it, doubt crept in. The look on his face, the way he had recoiled from you when you tried to comfort him—it was more than just fear or anger. It was something deeper, something that felt like betrayal.

You flew faster, pushing your broom harder, the wind stinging your eyes as Hogwarts loomed closer on the horizon. The castle, usually a comforting sight, felt distant now, its towering spires indifferent to the turmoil brewing inside you.

You couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What if I pushed him too far? What if trying to help only made things worse? You replayed the moment he pulled away, the way his voice cracked when he said he needed space. What if that space turned into something more? What if he didn’t come back? What if, in trying to help him, you’d only driven him further away?

The thought chilled you more than the wind cutting through the air.

You were nearing the castle grounds now, the familiar stone walls and sprawling courtyards coming into view. The students milling about below were oblivious to the chaos you’d just left behind, to the storm raging inside your mind. The last of the daylight faded, and the lanterns along the grounds flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths.

But you didn’t land.

Instead, you hovered above the grounds, circling aimlessly, unable to bring yourself back down to reality. You needed to calm down, to think clearly. But the more you tried, the harder it became to silence the thoughts spiraling through your head.

Was this all your fault? You had tried to make him see reason, to stop him from slipping further down the path he’d been walking ever since he found that cursed book. But had you pushed too hard? Was there something else you should have said? Something else you could have done?

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself. He’s the one who cast Imperio, you reminded yourself. He’s the one who made the choice. But the justification felt hollow. You had known Sebastian for years. You knew the weight of his choices, how he carried every decision like a burden. And now, after what happened with Solomon, that burden had only grown heavier.

The cold wind brushed against your face, bringing a shiver as your broom slowed, drifting above the castle’s silhouette. You sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on you as your mind raced with possibilities.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe he just needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened. But there was a part of you—an ever-growing part—that feared he wouldn’t come back. That the darkness you’d seen in his eyes tonight had taken root, and no amount of space or time would pull him back from it.

You lingered in the air for a long moment, staring down at the familiar grounds of Hogwarts below, where everything seemed so normal, so untouched by the chaos that had unfolded in Feldcroft.

The weekend had stretched out in front of you like an endless expanse of silence. You hadn’t seen Sebastian since he Disapparated from Feldcroft, and though you’d spent those two days trying to focus on anything else, your thoughts kept returning to him. Each moment alone was a reminder of the unresolved tension hanging between you, like a string pulled too taut, threatening to snap.

Monday morning came, and with it, the cold clarity of routine. You entered the Potions classroom with a knot of nerves coiled tight in your stomach, trying to steel yourself for what was bound to be an awkward day. The moment you crossed the threshold, your eyes instinctively sought him out, and there he was—Sebastian, sitting beside Ominis near the back of the room.

They were quiet, both of them. Ominis had that usual calm presence about him, but there was something different in the air today. The easy banter between them was missing, replaced by a muted stillness. Sebastian hadn’t said a word since you walked in, though you could feel the weight of his presence like a shadow in the room.

You chose a seat farther from them than usual, trying to give him the space he’d asked for. It felt unnatural, the distance between you, but you respected his need for it. Every part of you wanted to bridge that gap, to reach out and talk to him—to fix things—but the memory of his voice, sharp and defensive, echoed in your mind.

I need space.

So, you gave it to him. You sat through the first half of the class in silence, your attention only half on Professor Sharp’s lecture. Occasionally, your gaze would flick toward him, but he never once looked your way. He and Ominis exchanged a few quiet words, but otherwise, the two of them seemed almost as isolated as you felt.

Your mind wandered to Feldcroft, to the skirmish, to the way Sebastian had looked at you after Solomon’s outburst. His face had been so full of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, hurt. You wondered if any of those feelings still lingered. Or if he had simply shut them all away, the way he sometimes did when the weight of everything became too much.

Professor Sharp’s voice droned on in the background as you absently twirled your quill between your fingers, your thoughts far from the classroom. It wasn’t until a sudden jolt of motion beside you that your focus snapped back to the present.

A cauldron at the front of the class had begun to bubble over, its contents spilling out in a cascade of thick, green smoke. Professor Sharp muttered something under his breath, trying to contain the mess, but the fumes had already started to spread through the room, filling the air with a strange, acrid scent. Students began to shift uneasily in their seats, some coughing, others pulling their robes tighter around themselves to shield from the stench.

You grabbed your wand, instinctively readying yourself to cast a charm to clear the smoke, when a sharp tug of laughter reached your ears.

It was Sebastian.

He was laughing, quietly at first, but the sound grew louder as the chaos in the classroom unfolded. You looked over at him, and for the first time all day, you saw a flicker of something familiar in his eyes—amusement. Ominis had a bemused smile on his face too, though he remained much more composed.

Professor Sharp was too preoccupied with the cauldron to notice, but you couldn’t help it. You chuckled, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. It was ridiculous, really, the scene in front of you. A class full of advanced students, and here you all were, helpless against a puff of noxious fumes.

Sebastian must have caught the sound of your laughter, because his gaze flickered toward you, just for a moment. Your eyes met across the room, and there was something in his expression—something softer, less guarded than it had been all morning.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, Can you believe this?

The gesture was simple, but it was enough to crack the ice that had settled between you. The knot in your stomach loosened, and for the first time since the fight, you felt like you could breathe again.

Professor Sharp finally managed to clear the smoke, waving his wand with a flourish that was a bit too dramatic for the situation. The class settled down, students murmuring amongst themselves as they tried to recover from the brief interruption.

You caught Sebastian’s eye again, and this time, there was no tension in his gaze—just the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was a start.

Ominis, ever perceptive, leaned toward Sebastian and muttered something under his breath, and though you couldn’t hear what he said, you saw the way Sebastian’s lips twitched in response, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the class, but the silence between you felt different now. Less heavy, less strained. There was still so much unresolved, so much left unsaid, but that moment—the shared laughter, the glance across the room—it was enough to remind you that not everything between you was broken.

When the class finally ended, students began filing out, chattering amongst themselves as they headed to their next lessons. You lingered for a moment, gathering your things slowly, not wanting to rush off just yet.

Sebastian and Ominis stood by the door, talking quietly. Ominis gave Sebastian a gentle nudge, and though you couldn’t be sure, it looked like he was encouraging him. And then, before you could fully register what was happening, Sebastian’s gaze found yours again.

This time, he didn’t look away.

He nodded, a small, almost tentative gesture, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You nodded back, the corners of your mouth lifting in a tentative smile.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to give you hope.

The evening was quiet, the soft hum of the common room fading as students retreated to their dormitories for the night. The day had been long, and though your body ached for rest, your mind was still too restless to surrender to sleep. You lay in bed, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting silver streaks across the room. The events of the day played in your head on a loop, but none of it felt settled. The space between you and Sebastian, though cracked, still felt like it hung in a delicate balance.

Just as your thoughts began to spiral again, a gentle tap at the window broke through the stillness. You sat up, recognizing the familiar silhouette of Sebastian’s owl, Brescia. Her dark feathers gleamed in the moonlight as she pressed her beak to the glass, an unmistakable glint of impatience in her eyes.

You hurried over to let her in, heart already quickening. With a soft flutter, she landed on your desk, a letter tied to her leg. Her gaze followed your movements with a knowing look, as if she was privy to all the unsaid words between you and Sebastian.

With a slight smirk, you untied the letter, your fingers brushing against the parchment as you unfolded it. His handwriting, sharp and deliberate, sprawled across the page:

---

I suppose you’re still fuming at me for Disapparating like that? Or maybe you’re grateful I saved you the trouble of lecturing me any further?

Anyway, I’ll spare you a thousand apologies, as I’m sure you’ve already rehearsed a list of reasons I’m an idiot. You’re not wrong, of course. But if you’re keeping count, I did technically save the day… in my own way.

Don’t give me that look—I know you’re reading this with a sigh.

I won’t pretend to have everything figured out, and yes, I’ve made a mess of things. But you already knew that about me, didn’t you?

Rest easy, yeah? You’ll need your energy if you plan on scolding me more tomorrow.

— S.S.

---

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky tone, though the corners of your mouth lifted in a smile. There was a warmth in his words, a familiar playfulness that felt like the Sebastian you knew—sharp but softened, still the same boy beneath the layers of pride and defensiveness.

Grabbing a quill and parchment, you leaned over your desk, quickly scribbling a response:

---

Fuming? Perhaps just a little. I’d say you have a flair for dramatic exits.

But you’re right—you are an idiot. I’ve known that for a while. And just so we’re clear, you saving the day doesn’t absolve you from everything else. So, no, don’t think you’re getting away that easily.

But I suppose you’re lucky I find your cheekiness tolerable. Maybe even charming…

Sleep well, Sallow. Try not to get into any more trouble before the morning.

---

You attached the note to Brescia, who gave you a brief but knowing look before taking off through the window again. You didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, you heard the familiar flutter of wings outside, and sure enough, Brescia returned, another letter in tow.

Unfolding the parchment, you immediately recognized the shift in his tone:

---

Charming, am I? I’ll take that as a victory.

Though, if you ask me, you’re the one who's dangerously charming. Do you have any idea how distracting it is trying to concentrate with you around?

I suppose I’ll have to find a way to get through the day despite it.

But since we’re being honest…

Wouldn’t mind a distraction right now.

Yours,

— S.S.

---

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, the playfulness of his words blending with something more. The tension that had weighed heavily between you seemed to shift, lightening with each exchange. It felt like a dance, a back-and-forth that was so familiar yet laced with new, unspoken feelings.

You grinned, grabbing your quill again:

---

Distracting? I’d say that’s mutual. It’s almost unfair, really.

And I’m certain you’ve mastered the art of being a distraction yourself.

But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find ways to make it through the day.

As for right now… well, I could say the same about distractions. But it’s late, and you’ll have to survive without me for one night.

Try not to get too restless, Sallow.

---

You sent Brescia off again, your heart racing slightly as you settled back against your pillows. The dormitory was quiet now, the soft sounds of your fellow students sleeping filling the air, but your mind was far from calm.

Another few minutes passed before Brescia returned, her claws tapping lightly on the desk. The final letter was slightly longer, the ink on the parchment bolder, as if he’d written it with more intent:

---

You’re making this difficult, you know. But I suppose that’s only fair.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking…

How about we put these distractions to good use? Meet me in the library tomorrow night for some studying. I promise to behave. Mostly.

And who knows, maybe you’ll find it more productive than you expect.

See you there?

— S. S. 

---

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the last line. It wasn’t just the idea of studying—it was the way he asked, the unspoken invitation to put aside the tension and be together again. A subtle olive branch, wrapped in flirtation but carrying something deeper. Something that felt like a step forward.

You quickly penned your response, a smile tugging at your lips as you wrote:

---

Studying? Are you sure you can handle that kind of focus around me?

But fine. I’ll meet you in the library.

Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, Sallow.

Yours,

---

Brescia took off for the final time that night, disappearing into the dark sky, and you finally allowed yourself to relax. You lay back in bed, the warmth of his words still lingering in your mind, a mix of excitement and anticipation blooming in your chest.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, there was hope. And perhaps something more waiting for you in the library tomorrow night.

***

Another long one! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As usual, requests are open. Happy month of October!!

[starlingflight]

Ginny Weasley loves cats. Ginny Weasley loves cute little pygmy puffs. Ginny Weasley loves owls. Ginny Weasley loves dogs, and chickens, and cows, and horses.

Ginny Weasley is an equal opportunity animal lover.

[whinlatter]

think (harry/ginny) | a microfic

day 13 of @hinnymicrofic | prompt: think

He showers quick, tries to scrub the train off him. Snorts at the sight of Vernon’s large bottle of hair-thickening shampoo. Having stared at his uncle’s head all the way back from London, he reckons Vernon’s due a refund.

There's some lurid deodorant of Dudley's - hair gel, too, looks cheap and shit. He feels a stab of pity for whichever poor girl his cousin’s trying to scrub up for these days. Dudley trying to pull, he thinks with a laugh, Christ. But thoughts of pulling lead to thoughts of girls, which lead, inevitably, to thoughts of Ginny.

He shoves the hair gel back on the shelf. Adds Dudley pulling to the don’t think about it list he’d started making on the train, somewhere around the Cumbrian border, when Ron had offered him a Caramel Kappa, Ginny’s favourite, and he’d wanted to throw up all over the chess board.

The Dursleys had waited all of two seconds after he’d slammed the car boot shut before speeding off to dinner at some miserable gastropub off the M3. Suits him fine, wants to be alone. He stabs a fork through the plastic film of his ready-meal, makes sure to puncture the yellow reduced sticker Petunia's left on for his benefit, and watches the bright white of the mashed potato atop the shepherd’s pie whirling around in the microwave. 

You know, it’s made from real shepherd, he’d said to Ginny once. That’s such a dad joke, she’d said, and he’d said I wouldn’t know and she’d said Potter you get one dead dad joke a day and you already used today’s up at breakfast. Shepherd’s pie is on the don’t think about it list, then, he thinks, just before he burns his fingers sliding the ready meal onto a tray. Probably best add cottage pie, too, same idea. Maybe all savoury pies, play it safe.

He flops down on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, eats straight from the hot plastic as he flicks through channels. The nine o'clock news is all budget this, Hong Kong that, Tim Henman out at Wimbledon. The nine o’clock news is not Dumbledore's dead, Snape murdered him, there’s a war on, Harry Potter's dropped out of school to go hunt bits of Voldemort's dismembered soul. 

Dropped out of school, he thinks. Scandalous, delinquent. What d'you reckon? he asks the Ginny in his head. Harry Potter, troubled dropout? Do anything for you? The Ginny in his head laughs. It’d be fun if she were here, he thinks, curled up next to him on this ugly sofa, taking the piss out of Petunia’s cushion covers and Dudley’s wrestling trophies. Imagines taking her up to his bedroom, pointing out the lamp Dobby whacked himself around the head with. But then the Ginny in his head looks at him and says I never really gave up on you and I knew this would happen in the end, and it all bursts, shatters into a hundred dusty pieces.

He chucks the rest of the meal in the bin, adds dropping out of school to the stupid list. Might as well add the budget, Hong Kong and Tim Henman, why not.

Turns off the telly, goes upstairs and lies on his bed, fully-clothed, staring up at the ceiling, because on the walk from the living room to his bedroom the list has expanded to include his trunk (train, Hogwarts, Ginny), his jumper (still smells a bit like her on the left arm, pathetic), and Hedwig (how does it feel knowing your owl prefers me, Potter?).

He stares out of the window for a while, eyes next door's new extension, which sort of works - ugly nothing suburbia - until he remembers the twins and Ron at the window in a flying Ford Anglia, zooming him off to the Burrow where a little red headed girl is blushing and sticking her elbow in the butter dish and god, this really is shit, isn't it, they weren't lying. She knew then, of course she did. He's never been good at thinking of nothing, has he, and he's thought about her as he falls asleep every day since about October, so what chance does he have now?

He's dreading the dreams the most, knows they'll be unbearable. Almost hopes he dreams of lockets and green light and dead headmasters. Can't be worse than bright brown eyes, freckles on a bottom lip (how do you even get freckles on your bottom lip, Gin? Don't be jealous of my freckles, Potter, just because your skin's so boring), the smell of her hair (what do you mean my hair smells? What is that supposed to mean? Why are you laughing?) and the sound of her laugh and her gasps and the sound of her breathing, soft, lying beside him under the cloak on the lakeshore. Looking down under the table at dinner, seeing her thigh next to his on the bench, hand on his knee, body drawn to his, magnets, magic.

When he wakes groggily the next day - crick in his neck, still in his jeans - his first thought is: he's overslept. He’s missed Ginny on her way down to breakfast, going to be late for Potions, fucked it.

But no, of course not. There’s no Ginny, no breakfast, no Potions. Might still have fucked it, though, who's to say. Don't, he tells himself, as he heads for the bathroom to scrub the night off him, just don't think about it.

now up on AO3 here | ask me anything

[joka13]

Hiya feel free to ignore this if you’re not doing requests but i was wandering if you could do a george weasley x reader where they’re in a secret relationship and maybe one of George’s siblings outs that the reader has a crush on George in front of them both then george kind of teases the reader for it afterwards ?

Thank you :)

Hello, I do take requests! And thank you for requesting; this was so fun to write! I hope you won't mind that I added just a few more background details to what you specified😁 Enjoy!❤️❤️❤️

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Dear Reader,

As you may or may not know, I post extensive, multiple part fanfiction stories. I must remind you or clarify that I do not consider any requests I write as parts of those stories. Thank you for reading❤️

FANFICTION (REQUEST): George Weasley x y/n Malfoy

WARNINGS: passionate kissing

It had been a long while since you began your concealed, romantic relationship with George Weasley. It was a rather difficult situation to maintain, but it definitely had its advantages. You're a member of the Malfoy family and wouldn't be caught dead associating yourself with a Weasley, for if you were indeed caught associating yourself with a Weasley, it'd be the end of you. Your father, the infamous Lucius Malfoy, viewed every one of them as nothing but muggle-loving blood traitors. You once considered briefly the possibility of your father accepting George as your boyfriend because George was, still, technically a pureblood. But, in the end, you decided to play it safe, to stay quiet about the whole thing. Your father wasn't the only person you worried wouldn't take it well. You greatly admired your older brother, Draco, and feared you would lose his respect forever if he ever learned of your feelings for George. And so, when George Weasley expressed his similar feelings for you and you couldn't bring yourself to reject him, you promised to be George's girl as long as he did his best to keep it a secret.

George was entirely willing to pay the price. He'd been aching to have you for so long; there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. You enjoyed it immensely as well. Butterflies came to life in your stomach every time he took your hand and led you away to some new corner of the Hogwarts castle when no one else was watching. You'd kept secrets before, but this one was different. It was shared, special, personal, and intimate. But there are just some people you can't keep secrets from forever.

You and George played a silly game you called "Straight Face" while lounging on the couch in the Gryffindor common room (this would have been self-sabotage if it weren't for George "borrowing" Harry's invisibility cloak, under which you both sat; it was also late at night when everyone, including the two of you, should've been in bed, so there wasn't much risk of getting accidentally sat on). The goal of the game was to simply get the other person to smile and keep yourself from smiling when it was their turn to try and get you to smile. George almost won every time you played against him, though it didn't really matter to you. The end always resulted in at least one person smiling while the other won the game. It was, almost literally, a win-win situation.

It was your turn, so you pulled a funny facial expression. The corner of George's mouth twitched slightly, but he did not smile. For his turn, George performed for you a rather accurate voice impression of Professor Snape that easily broke you.

"Oh, bugger!" you laughed as George grinned smugly. "You're too good at this game!"

"Alright, alright, it's your turn. Show me what you've got," George chuckled.

George returned to his blank stare while you thought of something to do to make him smile. You then shook your head with a knowing smirk as an idea formed in your mind.

"You've left me no other choice," you sighed, looking up at him through your lashes. George raised a red eyebrow curiously, but otherwise didn't budge. You glanced down at his lips.

You, very slowly, leaned forward towards George as if you planned to kiss him. Then, just before your lips could touch his, you froze in place. When you observed no reaction from him, you looked up to find George staring coolly down at you.

"Come on. Where's that handsome smile of yours?" you encouraged quietly, giving him your own best smile. You slid your hands gradually up his arms, feeling his muscles flex in anticipation. Touching was actually against the rules of the game, but George wasn't complaining, so you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck.

"He's a little shy," George replied. His face might have been blank, but you could tell he was enjoying himself.

You chuckled. "Well, then what's it going to take to have him show?"

You pretended not to realize how fast your heart was beating when you moved your body ever nearer, still holding your face so very close to his. As you settled, George exhaled heavily before placing his hands around your waist. He didn't verbally reply to your question, but looked at you in a way that said, "You know what."

And so you kissed him. You kissed George and was taken to cloud nine when you felt his lips smile against yours. He chuckled, then began to kiss you back earnestly.

George's hands cradled your body, laying you down on the couch cushions behind. You giggled helplessly when he moved his face away from yours to nuzzle his nose affectionately against your neck.

"I love you, y/n," George breathed, and his words meant the world to you.

Suddenly, something sort of like a gasp sounded from the stairs to the Gryffindor girls' dormitories, causing your stomach to drop with dread. You couldn't see what was happening from your position, so you watched George's face as he slowly propped himself up higher above you to get a look at the intruder.

His eyes widened, and George glanced down at you. "It's Ginny," he mouthed silently, then looked back up. You and him both remained quiet and unmoving, hoping Ginny would eventually go away.

You heard some shuffling footsteps, and then Ginny spoke. "George? Fred? Who's there?" her voice sounded closer now, much too close for comfort. You gripped the fabric of George's sleeves absentmindedly in fearful suspense.

"Aha!" Ginny exclaimed, and you knew you'd been caught. "You're using Harry's invisibility cloak! And you've left your foot uncovered." You saw a small hand reach over the couch's arm rest, over your face and grasp a fistful of Harry's cloak. George's expression was more annoyed than fearful as Ginny yanked the cloak off of the two of you and gasped in alarm once more.

"Malfoy?!"

George moved off as you quickly sat up. "Er, hello, Ginny," you chuckled sheepishly.

Ginny looked back and forth between you and George in shock. You thought for sure she was going to faint or scream, but an ecstatic grin quickly filled her freckled face.

"My brother and y/n Malfoy!" Ginny squealed, clapping her hands together cheerfully.

George shushed her. "Pipe down!"

Ginny lowered her voice. "Sorry, sorry. Merlin's beard, I can hardly believe my eyes! Well, now I can." She giggled and waved the invisibility cloak about. "I was beginning to think you'd die alone, Georgie! How long has this been going on?" You and George looked at each other uncertainly, but before either of you could answer, Ginny continued to spout.

"I'm guessing it all began three months ago. That's about the time I started noticing Fred standing all by his lonesome. It must not have been much of a bother to him, though. He's had his fair share of slinking off with that Johnson girl. Am I right? It doesn't matter. I'm just so happy that you found someone... even if she is a Slytherin, let alone a Malfoy..."

"Ginny!" George scolded. You merely shrugged. You had expected a much worse reaction.

"I'm only joking," Ginny laughed. She sat down on a nearby ottoman. "Honestly, I think it's the perfect match!" Ginny turned to you. "I've always thought that if Fred and George weren't sorted into Gryffindor, they would have been put in Slytherin," she chortled.

You laughed, "I've said the same thing!"

Ginny laughed with you while George rolled his eyes, smiling.

"I know I probably don't need to say it," George said. "But if you wouldn't mind keeping quiet about y/n and I..."

"Of course!" Ginny scoffed. "Anything for you, George." She stared at you and George contently.

After a moment, George cleared his throat. "It's 'bout time you got back to bed, Ginny."

"Oh, if you say so," Ginny sighed, standing up reluctantly. "I know that you two will just go on snogging again."

George snorted.

"What'd you come down here for anyway?" you asked quickly to change the subject.

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me." Ginny went over to the side table, opened its single drawer, and pulled out a tattered, black book. She tucked it under her arm. "Goodnight, you lovebirds!" Ginny said, then headed back up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

You and George sat in silence for a short moment before he began to chuckle.

You blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I just can't believe how scared you were," he snickered. You shoved George playfully, causing him to laugh harder. "Terrifying, little Ginny!"

"I didn't want to be discovered, same as you!" you giggled, slightly embarrassed. Your smile drifted away as concern filled your mind once again. George stopped laughing when he noticed your mood faltering. "You really... you really don't think she'll tell anyone?" you asked timidly. You had a suspicion that Ginny might be one to gossip.

George smiled caringly, lovingly, and pulled you closer into a warm embrace. "Yeah. I trust her. And..." He stroked your hair as he carefully chose his words. "I've been meaning to... this was good timing. I think it's about time you met my family anyway."

You pulled away slightly so you could look George in the eye. "Do you really mean it? Even if you don't meet mine... just yet?"

"I do," George replied, then sweetly kissed the top of your head.