#weasleys witches and writers

[sailtomarina]

Written for Day 9 - Acorn - of Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Fall Fluff Fest 2024. Hermione/Fred | Rating: G | Tooth-rotting fluff! | 852 WC

⋆.࿔*:˚🍂𓍊𓋼🍁𓋼𓍊🍂˚:*.࿔.⋆

She thought the first a coincidence.

When she found the second one, she still shrugged and went about her day. Fred had probably dragged the outdoors in as he often did when he was in a hurry.

Then Hermione found a third acorn–not on the ground, like the other two, but smack in the middle of her writing desk.

“Fred?” She’d thought him out for the day, but maybe he’d chosen to come home early. 

Nothing but silence met her call.

Curious.

Hermione picked up the acorn and walked back into the kitchen to where she’d placed the other two. She lined them up in a row on the island and backed up.

“Finite Incantatem!”

It was just as she’d expected: the acorns were transfigured clues.

While she wasn’t sure which of the original two was first, she was certain of the third. In the place of the seeds now sat a packaged sugar quill in her usual cinnamon flavour, a refill of her favourite Edgar Allen Poe candle, and a real writing quill with a feather in a lovely shade of auburn.

The significance of the acorn was not lost on her.

Acorns were small, seemingly insignificant, seeds that grew into oak trees. They represented growth, beginnings, and a promise for more.

With that in mind, Hermione rolled up her sleeves and started searching.

She found the fourth acorn–which turned out to be a dainty necklace with an acorn pendant–in the pantry on top of Crookshanks’ snack container.

“Mrow.”

Hermione obliged her familiar with a back scratch and a treat. “Seen any acorns around, Crooksie?”

Large yellow eyes blinked at her as he licked his lips, then he turned, sauntered down the hallway, and looked over his shoulder as if to say, Well? Are you coming or not?

Crookshanks led her through the house to a familiar door that was covered with scratches and burn marks from innumerable experiments gone awry. Fred always made sure to keep the door closed out of safety, but, today, it was ajar.

The bottlebrush tail disappeared through the crack.

Hermione breath sped up in time with her heartbeat, the sound of both suddenly loud in her ears. She willed them to remain calm.

Why was his workshop open?

“Fred?” she called again.

“Come in!” He sounded normal. Like his usual self.

Hermione laughed at herself, then pushed the door open. “I thought you were out since I called for you earlier. What are you doing home–”

The question ended in a garbled noise as she took him in, or, more precisely, the state of the room and his place in it.

The tables covered in gadgets and tools had been removed. Gone, too, was the wall of cauldrons bubbling with various experiments. In their place were floor-to-ceiling shelves lining each of the walls. Rather than several work surfaces, there was only one long table with a bookstand at the end.

The window overlooking their back garden remained. However, right next to it sat a handsome velvet green armchair with a matching footstool, in front of which Fred kneeled with one palm up.

“I’m getting ready to ask my girlfriend a very important question.”

Crooks hopped up onto the footstool and curled into a tight ball, his job done.

“Hermione–”

In his hand sat an innocuous little acorn.

She gasped, then tried to stifle the sound as tears of joy threatened to spill down her cheeks. He tugged at her hands.

“Look at me, love. Let me see you.”

Hermione did as asked, even though she knew her face probably looked a fright–all red splotches, wet cheeks, and runny nose. Fred, in turn, looked as handsome as ever with his lopsided grin, a villainous scar through one brow, and sky blue eyes that never failed to see straight through her.

He held the acorn up pinched between two fingers as he continued his speech. “When we first moved to this cottage all those years ago, we made a promise.”

She remembered that day like it was yesterday.

“And today, I mean to make good on that promise.”

“But your workshop–”

“I moved everything into the basement. Used some of your ingenious extension charms.”

“And my parents–”

“They gave their approval a long time ago.”

“What about Ron?” Good Godric, why was she saying her ex’s name now?

“What about Ron? He’s remarried, and we’ve been together for years.”

She knew she was blabbing like she always did when she was overwhelmed. He knew it, too.

“Come here.”

She allowed him to guide her into the armchair where he kneeled again alongside her.

Hermione bit her lip as she looked between him and the acorn. “Are you sure?”

“More than ever.”

This time, she let him continue speaking. She burst into tears the moment the acorn transformed into a ring. She couldn’t stop saying “yes” between hiccups and sniffles as he slid said ring onto her finger.

And one final acorn remained just that: a seed that they planted behind the cottage and that grew into a towering oak underneath which they spent countless idle, perfect days.

⋆.࿔*:˚🍂𓍊𓋼🍁𓋼𓍊🍂˚:*.࿔.⋆

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley Characters: Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, Crookshanks (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Beta Read, Adult Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley Lives, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Facebook: Weasleys Witches & Writers, Weasleys Witches & Writers Fall Fluff Fest 2024, Fall Fluff Fest 2024 Series: Part 9 of WWW Fall Fluff Fest 2024 Summary:

A curious trail of acorns through her home leads Hermione on a journey to forever.

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐏 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!      

a/n: (Let me know if you want a separate post for a character - I’ll go into more depth). Also this is one of my favourite posts, it’s so wholesome

Inspired by @angelltheninth. Thank you for always writing such amazing posts!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

A glimpse into your life with your HP s/o. 

𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚  

・Constantly forgets where she puts things

    “It’s the nargles...” Luna mutters, looking underneath the couch pillows for her necklace.

“It’s not the nargles,” you reply, shaking your head.  

・Always makes you late because she forgets her wand or bag 

・So you create a space where she is allowed to dump her things. It actually made it a lot easier. You’ve dubbed it ‘Luna’s Space’ 

・Even though she can ‘Accio’ her things, she actually needs her wand to do that, and she also forgets her wand. 

・Yes, there are a lot of animals in and around your household

・Luna cannot help but attract them

・And they’re usually a mix of muggle animals as well as magical animals 

・Bowtruckles that like to hide in your jacket pockets, jackalope’s that like to sneak inside and fall asleep in front of the fire, a kneazle who actually bonded with you and rarely leaves your side (gets upset when you have to leave her at home)

・You cook as Luna is ghastly at making food 

・But she tidies up and makes sure the fire is always burning (for some reason she’s always cold)

・Nights snuggling on the couch, sharing a big fuzzy blanket and staring into the flames,, or reading a book

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝

・Is very messy. He leaves his clothes scattered around the place. You’ve told him that if he continues to do it then you’ll shrink his clothes. 

・He respected the threat, and his clothes now live in their proper places

・Is a bit of a wiz in the kitchen - 

・Until you realised that he was just enchanting everything to cook themselves 

・Is quite social so there’s usually someone coming around each week (either George or Lee Jordan)

・A lot of testers for the joke shop are done at home, so if something blows up then...Fred is in big f*cking trouble

・He actually journals a LOT

・And has some really interesting ideas

・Wants to travel with you, to experience different cultures

・Ultimately he wants to learn about different forms of magic so he can incorporate it into his life and work

・You do visit Molly a lot, and sit down with her, Ginny and Hermione to discuss life

・Arthur becomes a great confidant as well. He has some great knowledge, espcially about his son

・Fred has extravagant gifts for you. They may not be expensive since he’s saving money, but he does want to make you feel special

・In terms of pets, Fred wants ones that can be useful. But sometimes you get lonely when you come home from work and he’s still at the shop 

・So you’re still deciding on what you want to get...

𝐂𝐡𝐨  

・Wanted to be the sole person in charge of decorating 

・An apartment not too far from the heart of London

・Everything in your house is a light blue with hints of silver and a dash of purple

・Took a lot of inspiration from the beauxbatons, their uniform as well as their overall aesthetic with a hint of Ravenclaw

・Everything is very orderly and she likes things in their proper places 

・For pets you both have your Hogwarts animal - hers is an owl, and you also surprised her with a completely white ragdoll kitten on her first anniversary together (she absolutely loved it)

・Cho loves to sit down with you and talk about each other’s day. What went on and such

・She’s a very touchy person so she loves when you hold her hand and cup her cheek

・She’s also in touch with her emotions and is usually the first to cry in sad situations

・Has a certain routine for her hair, and it actually does work because it is ALWAYS SHINY

・Likes board games as well

・Has a family game night with her side of the family once every two weeks

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞

・Is surprisingly clean - 

・Always picks up after himself and does a bit of spring cleaning here and there

・He picked it up from his mother; someone had to. And he was used to being the clean twin. The one who cleaned up after Fred 

・His favourite meal is a full baked roast dinner. With Yorkshire puddings and loads of gravy. 

・Once a week you visit the Burrow for dinner. And Molly fusses over you two, saying that you need to eat more. You always leave with a whole sack full of random items for the house. Old lamps, rolls of toilet paper, once she gave you a side table

・Fred is a constant visitor at your and George’s place. He’s almost living there himself

・There’s even been a few times where he’s gotten you groceries 

・George is terrible at saying no to you, so whatever you want, you always get

・Your home is practically the Burrow - you liked the feel of George’s home so much that you did your best to recreate it but add a bit of you in as well

・George absolutely loves living with you. His heart is always full.

・Sometimes he’ll come home and Fred will be in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry while you’re on the lounge reading, drawing or listening to music 

・It’s a quiet life but George loves it. It’s a reprieve from the shop with Fred, which is always loud and chaotic

・You do visit him and he always has a beaming smile on his face when he sees you

・At home there’s a room full of packages for the joke shop. Some simply toys, others potions and oils. Do you test them out? Sure do - George is happy for you to do so 

𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐲

・Grew up with everything handed to her on a silver platter

・Once she changed her view on muggles, her family basically threw her out 

・Taking pity on her, and thinking the world can be better, you created a friendship. Friendship grew to relationship and that grew to love. 

・So, instead of being merely roommates, you were now a couple

・She’s not the easiest person to get along with. But once you both found your flow, then you were both settled. 

・Pansy forced her femininity in school, but she found that she actually preferred to take on the ‘masculine roles. 

・Can’t lie magic is still a big help though, and Pansy would be absolutely lost if she was in the muggle world 

・Your friends are now her friends. It took a lot of time for them to get around the idea, especially Ginny, but turns out they bonded really deeply

・When Ginny invited the both of you to the Burrow one day Pansy cried that very night

・She had never seen a family like this

・There was so much love. And Mrs Weasley was so attentive.

・One of the things that Pansy loved the most was when Mrs Weasley called her “dear”

・And you nearly cried because it’s such a little thing and Pansy never got to experience that

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲  

・He wasn’t sure how you wanted to go about this

・Because Harry grew up in the muggle world, as did you, so you were both excited to find the charms that would make domestic life easier 

・Like in the Burrow, where Mrs Weasley had the chores done by magic 

・So you and Harry went to Hermione to find the charms (for some reason Flitwick hadn’t taught that)

・The first time you used it, you and Harry jumped up in the air and wooped. You high fived and kept doing it on different items

・It’s one of your favourite memories 

・Headmaster McGonnagall comes to dinner every second Tuesday - she wanted it to be weekly but she was just too busy. 

・She comes in her robes and is tight lipped when she first enters your home. But after she sits down, her demeanour changes. 

・Minerva knows what she can and can’t say, but when she’s had a few wines she becomes loose-lipped 

・Once she turned into her animagus and fell asleep on your lap, purring loudly

・Sometimes you have to leave the room because her and Harry have very intense conversations; you just want to give him privacy - he never wants you to leave. But you’re usually make ten minutes later with three steaming cups of tea 

・You have framed pictures of Dumbledore, Hagrid and Snape hanging on the hallway walls

・His parents are in the centre on the fireplace mantelpiece 

・The first night you slept in your own home, Harry cried. When you asked why, he told you a story about the Dursleys

・And then you started crying as well

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞  

・Busy lifestyle. She always has something to do, so you both split the chores 50/50 as you both work

・Things always have their place. And when they aren’t in their place Hermione does her best not to lose it

・And the house is always clean (she knows all the charms)

・The kitchen cleans itself, the bed is always made, shoes are at the front door etc

・They’re charms that are a few steps ahead of what Mrs Weasley uses (Hermione learnt them while reading of course). Once she tried to tell Mrs Weasley about them and the red-headed woman practically walked away (she thinks her way is best). 

・You’ve asked Hermione to teach you everything she knows, that’s why your relationship works. You love her intelligence and knowledge. 

・She isn’t that big on pets though, and has a 5 year plan

    “I’m sorry Y/n, but having a pet wasn’t a part of our plan.” 

“Hermione please, look at him!” 

・She absolutely crumbled when you did the puppy dog eyes while holding the puppy against your face

    “...okay fine, but I’m not picking up any poo.” (She most certainly did.)

・So you have beagle called Finley. And Hermione pretended to be indifferent with him for about a week, and then she fell in love

・Finley goes everywhere with you two, and Hermione’s parents are shocked when the three of you turn up to dinner

   “Umm, sweetheart why-”

“This is Finley, mum and dad, please treat him with respect.”

𝐑𝐨𝐧  

・He had no idea where to start when you first moved in together. He was an absolute mess

   “I just don’t know what you mean by decorating! This is too stressful-”

・Has Harry around a lot. Or at least, asks him to come around a lot

・You guys go to the Burrow at least once a week for a family dinner - everyone is there, and when someone can’t attend, Mrs Weasley is nearly on the brink of tears

・After Ron gets used to the idea of living in his own place, with you. He starts to settle. He finds his routine. 

・He’s usually the last one to wake up and the last to go to bed.

・Absolutely adores sweets, and keeps a whole drawer full next to his bed. In the middle of the night you’ll hear a rustle and it’s Ron opening a chocolate frog

  “Aw, Dumbledore again-”

・Sends howlers to Fred and George, specifically to their shop so they’ll open them in the middle of the store

・You told Ron it was a terrible idea because they hit back 5x harder

・Harry tells Ron about television and Ron absolutely loses it, goes out and buys one the next day 

・His favourite programmes are the Vicar of Dibley and Absolutely Fabulous (although pretends to hate it - turns it off whenever you come into the room), 

𝐆𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐲  

・So excited to move in together!!!

・Her parents are extra pushy because she’s their little girl. But they know you’ll look after her (which is true, but Ginny is the one who wears the pants in this relationship) 

・A lot of Quidditch posters and books

・You have to tell her not to ride her broom in the house 

・Wants to adopt ALL THE DOGS

・She’s at Quidditch practice a lot, so you usually get the things you need to get done in that time so when she comes back you can spend time together

・Ginny is always bringing you back flowers. And they’re huge bouquets. They’re different every time 

・Likes to surprise you with her cooking skills because Mrs Weasley is a bit traditional that way (she didn’t teach her sons how to cook)

・Actually doesn’t cry that often and has her sh*t together most of the time 

・Or she seems like she has her shit together most of the time

・Very good at remembering appointments and the like

・Didn’t care much about decorating the place, but did want it to be cosy like the Burrow

・Has little knick knacks on the kitchen window sill

・And wears gloves while she does the dishes 

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞  

・I think it’s pretty obvious, but Neville’s home would be COVERED with plants. Vines growing on poles, flowers blooming across window sills, 

・He waters, feeds and tends to them everyday. Not missing a single one. 

・Neville is awake at about 5:30am to do all of it

・Because by that time it’s nearly 7:45 and he has to get ready for work

・Never leaves to go anywhere without giving you a kiss

・Feeds the birds but doesn’t realise that that means a whole flock will came back next time

・You go to see his parents with him at St. Mungos hospital

・And you hold him as he cries in your arms afterwards

・Has nightmares about his parents and it wakes you up in the middle of night

・You met his grandmother and although you have to give her credit for raising Neville, she was quite horrible to him. 

・You’ve told Neville that you will have a go at her if she says one bad thing about him (that includes passive aggressiveness, alluding to him, or anything that could be seen as an insult)

・He loves you for it

・But still has a soft place in his heart for the woman that raised him

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨  

・After the Battle of Hogwarts Draco’s perspective of the world changed

・He saw horrors as well as allowed horrors to happen. He felt immense guilt. 

・And his relationship with his father was practically ruined 

・His mother was the only parent he saw. But she still had the outlook that purebloods were the only people worthy of respect

・Draco knew he had to make amends. His conscience was heavy. 

・So he went back to Hogwarts and asked the Headmistress McGonaggal how to make up for his wrong doings. 

・That’s how you and Draco got together

・After some time, when your relationship was established, he moved out of the Malfoy Mansion and in with you

・It was a difficult transition, especially the fact that there was no one to wait on him hand and foot

・You taught him how to cook - or at least the charms on how to do so 

・At first it was goddamn hard, but he endured

・And the look on your face when he got it right ... god ... he needed to impress you again and again. Just to see that look. 

・Turns out he’s actually he very good cook. Not that great at cleaning up after himself, but luckily you live in a world of magic 

・You even let him decorate wherever he wished

・He chose quite gothic dark academia style 

・Rich colours; deep emerald, dark blue, burgundy, maroon

・His mother was still giving him money though-

・And you said that he should invite her over

・That first dinner was especially difficult. The look on her face when she walked in ... you could read exactly what she was thinking ‘small, ... poor, why would he give up living with me for this.’

・But the love for her son outweighed the prejudice in her heart

[scorp-simran]

''What if Satan were to remove his mask, and we were to find the face of Christ behind it?''

Severus Snape as a Carl Jung quote

This also implies to Saturn whom all consider malefic...

[ladydelphiniaofthesea]

Dearest Gentle Readers,

The world is either kind or cruel. And so far I have seen many things happen in my time alive. As well as many things coming together. Whether it may be good or bad. We may never know. However, given such circumstances mean a little to no end. And our greatest fears become our greatest obsessions. In the world of magic I shall say. I say, I have never seen so many lovely witches and wizards coming together in harmony for the mere existence of this game of “Hogwarts Legacy” and dare I say how lovely the art is in this community. The creativity it brings can bring the most out of a person. From the people who enjoy the life of a potions master, or a potions Professor. Who captures our hearts in the most particular way. Or for a man who gets little to no time on the platform, who has the same voice of a blind Slytherin. And then we have a certain man who took its time to weigh in the community, by just being a soft hearted Prewett. And to me, we need more. And what of our ghastly friend, Richard Jackdaw. Whom was a ghost who captured our hearts from the very beginning of the game.

Now I said my share from the game itself. Just know dear readers that I may have been here for a short time, however I do intend to stay here. For as long as you have me. And make a name for myself. In regards to being left unattended elsewhere. Well.. that’s for a later date.

From yours truly,

Lady Delphinia

[tokiwayami]

'Spellbind' HP Fanfic on Wattpad & AO3

Username: tokiwayami

[The Hogwarts Triwizard Champions: Fred Weasley, Niyla B. Lupin, and Harry Potter]

[therealvinelle]

Can I hear your opinions on rita skeeter?

You know how some stories have that only sane man, the one person who isn't impressed by our dashing main characters or who's living in a different genre and rated story? The one, typically a fan favorite, character who has a fundamentally different perspective. They can also, shortly put, be the "this is stupid and you're stupid" character.

The NBC Hannibal show has Freddie Lounds ("I'm a bad, bad man", Will threatens her. He is then surprised when she runs a feature on the FBI hiring a creep to come to crime scenes and pretend he's a serial killer.) The Vampire Diaries had Elijah (he isn't a great example of this, but legacy fans will remember all the jokes about how the reason the writers never put him in episodes was because he'd have solved all the characters' stupid problems within twenty minutes and there would be no plot for the rest of the season. Elijah was perceived to be living in a different type of show than the rest of the teen drama cast), and there are some who think that this was Snape for Harry Potter.

They are wrong.

Rita, my dove

Let's take a look at a few things Rita prints over the course of canon, where we have an insight into what actually happened and know precidely what she printed. I have my copy of Goblet of Fire with me, it's in Norwegian so I'll be translating back to English but I trust that's alright.

The Quidditch world cup incident

What we know happened:

The British Ministry was responsible for the event. It was highly prestigious, with foreign leaders attending and people from all over the world camped out near the stadion. After the first match there's celebrations, which turns into a riot. Tents are set on fire, people are chased through the camp grounds, and there's total chaos where nobody knows where their loved ones are. The riot soon turns into a homage to Voldemort, with rioters in Death Eater uniforms tormenting the Muggles living nearby and someone putting up the Dark Mark.

Arthur Weasley, who works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts (which is admittedly part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement), is sent to make a statement on the Ministry's behalf to the terrified witches and wizards hiding.

What Skeeter reports:

Headlining "TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP" (me translating), with an image of the Dark Mark, Rita Skeeter writes (this is Arthur skimming): "Ministry blunders... culprits not apprehended... lax security... Dark wizards running unchecked... national disgrace..." (original English from the wiki)

A full section (and this is me translating again): "If the terrified witches and wizards who waited for information while they hid in the woods had hoped for any sort of reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sorely disappointed. A department spokesman, who only showed up long after the Dark Mark had appeared, claimed no one had been injured but refused to give further information. It remains to be seen if this statement will quell the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later."

Verdict

All of this is accurate, except the last sentence.

Nobody was killed in the incident. However, Skeeter was acting on the information available to her, and she makes it clear this last part is unconfirmed. Further, I'm going to come out in her defense and say that Skeeter, writing an article critical of the Ministry in a community with a very loose sense of free speech, can't take Arthur Weasley at his vague word and should refer to her own sense of judgement when deciding whether the rumors are credible enough to print or not.

As it is, a riot in a crowded area at night with people who dressed like Death Eaters, where the Dark Mark was fired into the sky, where mass panic erupted, in a world where children can produce deadly magic with their wands, could easily have led to casualties. I don't think it was a far leap for Skeeter that people might have died, and the Ministry didn't want to admit as much.

Notice her phrasing (and yes, I know you're reading my translation) when she talks about the Ministry: "It remains to be seen if this statement will quell the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later." Not, "It remains to be seen whether the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later were true.", or any type of phrasing indicating that the truth will out. Only rumors that may or may not be quelled.

Knowing that the Wizarding World doesn't appear to be a functional nor accountable democracy, that things like statistics likely don't exist (who will be your statistician if there is no basic math education? How will wizards interpret statistics if they don't understand basic maths, what use are error margins and percentages to them? This is important, because without statistics there is also no need to collect numbers - how many students take the core classes, how many are employed after X years, how many citizens die in a given year and of what causes... you see where I'm going with this), and that Arthur gets so defensive when reading legitimate criticism of his Ministry (not even his department or jurisdiction, mind, and Skeeter anonymized him), indicates a fraught understanding of governmental accountability and transparency.

In other words, who can say if anybody died that night. Arthur himself had gone to bed with his family as soon as the chaos was under control, and there was no tally after the riot, no controlled evacuation, nothing. Skeeter wasn't wrong for publishing what she herself clarified was speculation, either way I'm hard pressed to see her as a villain for putting the Ministry under pressure, in fact I have to wonder if this kind of pressure is necessary to get them to admit things they'd otherwise shove under the carpet.

Back to Arthur Weasley. In response to this article he says to his family (me translating again): "Molly, I must go to the office. Killing this is going to take some time."

Now, I know real governments have to cry over scandals that take time to move past as well: however, what are people upset over? What's the scandal?

Oh, yes, that the Ministry wasn't able to prevent a riot at a large sports event, flubbed completely once it had begun, and failed to give the people any kind of useful or timely information. All of that is true. The only part that isn't true, would be dispelled if they'd only put out a statement saying "no one was killed". The only reason why one such statement wouldn't work is if Ministry statements are not considered trustworthy - and this is where we return to the above.

So far, so good on Rita Skeeter, and so bad on Arthur who, going by this section, questions the Ministry less than Bellatrix Lestrange questions Voldemort.

Interlude: Percy and the vampires

While the article about the World Cup is read, Percy jumps in with an anecdote about Skeeter.

"That woman is always out to slander the Ministry," Percy said angrily. "Last week she claimed we waster our time fooling around with cauldron thickness when we should be extinguishing vampires! As though it is not expressedly stated in Guidelines for treatment of non-wizard halfhumans that-"

I'm not going to make any guesses as to what precisely Skeeter's criticism was, because Percy is angry and venting to his family, which doesn't make him likely to present her argument fairly. Who knows what, specifically, she criticized and why and what she asked for in her article. What we do know is that she questioned Ministry priorities and resource allotment, and Percy takes it personally, he gets angry about it. Hostility and defensiveness is the gut reaction.

More damningly, "that woman is always out to slander the Ministry" implies no one else is doing it.

Your star is rising, Rita.

Oh no, post got long

And this is the part where I'd go on to her interview with Harry and subsequent articles, and later on Dumbledore, but I'm realizing that would make this post a very long and decentralized mess.

Will cover it in follow up posts: today is for Rita vs. the Ministry and how the Weasleys think Muggles are so quaint with their democracricy and freedom of speech, teehee that's silly.

[jamilelucato]

possibility - fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x slytherin!reader

(it can be read as a one-shot) (part 02 here!)

summary: Amidst the boredom, an unexpected connection sparks between (Y/N) and the charismatic mischief-maker, Fred Weasley.

note: They are in their last year at Hogwarts, so, for purposes, they are 18; besides, the whole canon of the book (it would've been Order of the Phoenix) is mostly nonexistent here.

the reader: can be interpreted as someone with ADHD; she loves literature and she has no friends.

words: 7580

Enjoy!

The lesson trudged on, dripping with tedium.

In truth, (y/n) quite liked Professor Flitwick. She had, in fact, eagerly accepted his invitation to become his assistant whenever the First Years graced his class. Being an assistant delighted her to no end. Yet, being a student, well, that was a different cauldron of bubbling potion altogether.

Today, Flitwick's lecture on Spellcasting and its perils was dragging on and on. As a sixth-year student, the curriculum seemed more intent on delving into existing knowledge than offering exciting novelties. While these topics might hold allure for a future Auror or the like, they were a one-way ticket to Boredomville for her.

Ever since (y/n) had decided upon her career path – a decision that seemed to have been brewed in the deepest recesses of her being – most of her classes had metamorphosed into a soporific ordeal. Hogwarts wasn't particularly renowned for its prowess in teaching language and literature, but that was precisely where her ambitions lay. A writer, a wordsmith, perhaps even an editor or a high school pedagogue. Anything that would let her commune with the magic of words, not the sort that burst from wands.

Now, she wasn't a woeful spell caster by any means. Professor Flitwick wouldn't have sought her assistance if she weren't a smart witch. But, her heart preferred the dance of ink on parchment over the intricacies of wand-waving, often rendering her classroom hours relatively inconsequential.

Seeking refuge from this stifling monotony, (y/n) allowed her gaze to wander. And in this sea of faces, her eyes collided with Fred Weasley – the school's most notorious ginger-haired mischief-maker. He was already watching her, a mask of effortless nonchalance draped over his face. He raised his brows at her, noticing she was staring back, and he did not look away. And so, they locked eyes, neither relinquishing the connection. It was not a duel of gazes; it was more like a shared secret, a silent agreement over how tedious the class was.

A minute passed in this silent communion until Fred graced her with a faint smile. The spell was broken, and her attention returned to her empty parchment. A quiet sigh fluttered like a long-forgotten page being turned, but it vanished into the air, unheard by all but her.

With pen in hand, she felt an almost magical compulsion to transcribe Flitwick's words onto her parchment. His voice, though droning before, now seemed less boring. 

“To its nature, we shall survive it, but the opponent targetted... not so much,” the professor intoned, the words finally finding their mark within her consciousness. Cruel nature, indeed. “Well,” she mused, her back moulding into her chair as her quill danced across the parchment, “Every spell I remember does possess a hint of danger.”

At long last, her notes held substance, and her enthusiasm, while subdued, had been rekindled. Her gaze again drifted sideways to where Fred Weasley was, only to find he had shifted his focus – to his twin, George.  

They sat side by side, mirror images of naughtiness. (y/n) sometimes forgot that they were identical twins because she was so used to having them around that they started to look apart. George's height had a mere smidgen of variance, while Fred's nose was a tad more prominent. Freckles played a symphony across their faces, arranging themselves differently – Fred’s were more concentrated around his forehead. Yet, at that moment, as (y/n) blinked through her confusion, she wondered if she'd mixed up their features. Had she glimpsed George's grin instead?

But then, as if choreographed by fate, Fred resumed his original posture and caught her looking. His lips curled into an unmistakable smirk. “It's certainly Fred, then,” she thought, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, unwanted.  She redirected her attention back to the good Professor Flitwick and his lesson, and weirdly enough, after all that gazing, she had regained her focus and was more ready to be a satisfactory student.

Amidst her studies, (y/n) was ensconced within the library's embrace.

This day bestowed upon the library an uncommon hush, a tranquillity that seemed to defy the norm. The librarian always managed to get the kids quiet, but she couldn't stop them from coming all at once when frenzied by the looming spectre of approaching exams.

However, an anomaly unfolded on that Friday afternoon, bestowing upon (y/n) the most unexpected gift – the library, in all its boundless expanse, was hers to claim. A rarity that, peculiarly, she found herself not enjoying. Amidst the solitude, her focus waned like a candle in a draft, flickering and unstable. Concentration eluded her, much like the fleeting caress of a dream upon waking. Reading, that intimate act of solitary exploration, seemed to have metamorphosed into a daunting endeavour. It was one thing to lose oneself in tales of princesses or the adventures of chiselled, sun-kissed heroes, but an entirely different ordeal to grapple with the intricate world of potion brewing.

For (y/n), the allure of fantasy books or any literary work was nothing short of enchanting, capable of whisking her away on wings of imagination. These volumes, she devoured with unbridled speed. Yet, a profound disinterest surged within her when it came to the theoretical tomes packed with knowledge mirroring the lectures she endured. If she were to be entirely frank, she might even admit a smidgen of disdain for these volumes.

So she would never take them to the dorms with her — she would much rather read them in the library, filled with other students. The presence of others functioned as a gentle but firm tether, binding her to the task at hand – reading, absorbing, and taking notes. The collective energy of focused minds bolstered her resolve.

Alas, a rather desolate air hung over the library's expanse on this day.

Thrice (y/n) had shifted her position, seeking companionship in proximity, only for her hopes to be dashed within thirty minutes. A sigh, tinged with resignation, escaped her lips, and in that crestfallen moment, a shock of crimson manifested in her field of vision. A pair of vibrant red-headed twins strode in. Nestled at the tables near the corridor's entrance, she watched them meander, their steps unhurried, eyes wandering. “Searching," her inner voice concluded. Certainly, the twins held a more potent allure than the secrets of cauldron cleaning or its ilk, a fact her current book seemed intent on imparting.

Though (y/n) watched from her vantage point, removed yet intrigued, the twins' presence would've caught anyone's attention had there been any other student around. As their gaze swept the expanse, (y/n)'s musings dipped into the realm of speculation, imagining the myriad thoughts dancing behind those crimson veils.

In a place where solitude was typically her archenemy, she now sat pondering the enigma of the Weasley twins, the allure of their presence momentarily overshadowing the dusty tomes that lay before her.

Fred and George stood at a distance, too far for (y/n) to gain a comprehensive view. Instead, they ambulated the space with a purpose that eluded onlookers – a relentless quest for something unbeknownst to her. As they wandered, their forms flickered in and out of her view, now one visible, then none, then both, and once more only one boy.

Fixated on the one nearer her, she strained her vision to discern. Could it be Fred? A question played a merry dance in her mind, teasing but refusing to commit to a definitive answer. His profile was turned towards the shelves, a curtain of red hair obscuring details. Besides, distinguishing the twins remained a daunting task without a survey of their noses.

Abruptly, a voice infiltrated her thoughts, causing her to startle in her seat, “You know we saw you, right?”

She swivelled around, only to be met by the missing twin positioned just behind her. Leaning over her chair's backrest, he inclined his head inquisitively, a solitary auburn eyebrow arching with playful curiosity. Witnessing her wide-eyed astonishment, the Weasley released a soft, subdued chuckle, a mischievous symphony woven into the sound. “If you want my brother's number, you can just ask,” he added.

So the one talking to her was Fred. She quickly glanced at his nose bridge, trying to see the intricated details left by a Quidditch match gone wrong, yet his voice functioned as the telltale sign. He audacity to issue such a provocative remark to a girl with whom they held only the most tenuous of connections – that could only be Fred's doing. Moreover, his tone carried a specific timbre distinct from George's. It was, for lack of a better word, smoother to her auditory senses. Not that George's voice was anything less than agreeable, but his was a quieter, more reserved resonance. She mused that her lack of familiarity with George's vocal cadence stemmed from his status as the quieter half of the duo, while Fred's unending stream of chatter had made his vocal imprint indelible in her ears.

A manufactured laugh escaped her lips, a tinkling facade, "Haha, Weasley. I don't want no one's number."

Fred inclined his head, a bemused glint in his eyes as if coaxing her to reveal more.

Nestled more comfortably in her chair, she raised her chin a fraction, a silent assertion that she was unreservedly facing the boy. This small shift seemed to foster a sense of openness between them.

"Studying is boring, so you guys looked like a distraction," she declared with a nonchalant shrug.

His voice dripped with theatrical incredulity, “We? A distraction?” Fred's lips curled into a playful smile, his head tilting as he leaned slightly away. He stood tall, towering over most, a fact he seemingly embraced with ease. Though his height wasn't sufficient to overshadow Ron (a surprise, really), it cast a considerable shadow over (y/n), particularly in her seated state. The disparity in stature unfolded in a tableau that her neck found almost physically taxing to endure.

With the book held closer to her chest, (y/n) drew a deep breath, her response tinged with a touch of exasperation, “Honestly, anything is a preferable pursuit than deciphering 'how to brew... a potion.'” Her fingers clutched the book, the page title a weighty secret she held close, refusing to vocalise it aloud.

An unexpected shift occurred as Fred commandeered the neighbouring chair, situating it with a proximity that nudged their personal space. “And weirdly enough," he said. Lowering himself into the seat, he offered a sly grin, his gaze steady upon her, “You always get good grades at Snape's classes.” A movement almost imperceptible – a twitch of the head, a hint of satisfaction – played upon his features.

(y/n) registered the proximity with an awareness that tickled her senses. The book, her veiled treasure, lay nestled in her grasp, poised for closure to deter prying eyes.

She shrugged, expecting him to forget what she held close, “I'm Slytherin, after all.”

“Ah,” Fred snapped his tongue in the roof of his mouth, a sound almost as if he had drunk something and was now satisfied. 

Shifting her gaze quickly at George, she hoped he would come to her rescue and take his twin away.

“Not so fast,” Fred interjected, his large hand sweeping down to rest atop the book's cover. “What secrets are you hiding there?”

Her gaze flitted from his eyes to his hand, a growing wariness churning within her. Her fingers tensed around the book, futilely attempting to shield its contents. But deftly, the book was relinquished from her hold and into his.

His melodious voice breathed life into the words etched on the page, “Let's unravel this mystery... 'How to Brew a Love Potion,'” he read aloud, his playful and teasing tone. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as they danced up to meet hers. “Wow, (y/n), I'd never take you for one who needed a love potion.”

To match his wit, (y/n) maintained her playful gaze, a smirk curving her lips as her retort unfurled, “Oh, I don't know, Fred. Perhaps that's my secret to acing Snape's classes.”

Not even the weight of dark humour could ruffle Fred Weasley's composure. His smirk swelled, infused with a brew of mischief that danced in his eyes. “If that's the case, you're terrible at it. I distinctly recall a certain incident involving Snape's homework, and if memory serves, it nearly rendered you floundering.”

She averted her gaze, her attention shifting to the captured book still cradled within his hands, the prospect of regaining it receding into the distance.

“Thanks for the recall, top-tier student,” she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, are you willing to tell me your secrets? What are you doing here, in the library?”

Fred's laughter danced like a secret melody, an intimate note that lingered in the air, his eyes shimmering with a clandestine glimmer. “What's life without a little mystery?” he joked, his voice a velvety caress.

She mirrored his stance, a symmetrical lean that brought them closer, the gap between their faces now an invitation. Their proximity wove a delicate tapestry between their banter and a realm of deeper connection. “Is that so?” she inquired, her words drawn out in a languid purr, the air heavy with a mingling of intrigue and allure.

He matched her pace without the need to ask. The dance of their words had woven a tapestry of amusement, their shared enjoyment eclipsing the pursuit of concrete answers. After all, Fred barely had learned a secret. He was smart enough to know (y/n)'s book had been opened on a random page.

“If I tell you why I'm here,” he mused; his gaze, which had been steadfastly locked onto her eyes, dared trace a path to her lips, “what will you give me in return?”

(y/n) thought herself very wicked when her answer came quickly, “A love potion?” she playfully suggested.

His smile faltered, his breathing taking on a deeper rhythm, a transformation she couldn't help but notice.

“I don't need that,” he purred, voice dipping lower, “however, you...”

An eye-roll framed her response, though she didn't retreat from his proximity.

“Weasley...” her voice began, her tone laden with a mix of exasperation and uncertainty, an attempt to convey a sentiment she was grappling to articulate.

“Fred,” he interjected, the word a soft murmur, his eyes holding hers earnestly. Noticing her bemusement, he continued with a gentle lilt, “Call me Fred.”

She processed his words, pondering the significance of calling him by his name instead of his surname – a departure from the collective label that often accompanied the Weasley clan around Hogwarts.

A nervous throat clearing preceded her tentative utterance, “Fred." She tested the name as if savouring the syllables as if she did not know it before.

Flirting was an uncharted territory for (y/n), a realm she now tiptoed into, fueled by trepidation and exhilaration.

“Lucian Flewchief's book.”

The words hung suspended, (y/n)'s brow furrowing as she sought to decipher their meaning. Was that Fred’s way of flirting back? Suggesting a book? (y/n) was puzzled. That was a new way of flirting she never knew of, but she hoped the book was some young adult fae fantasy.

Fred's perception of her confusion prompted him to lean back slightly, dissipating the cosy bubble they'd woven. He clarified, “That's our objective here – locating Lucian Flewchief's book."

Her understanding unfurled with an "oh" of realisation, the pieces clicking into place.

“We're also the reason behind the library's current solitude,” he continued, an impish glint in his eyes. “George and I orchestrated a bit of a distraction to ensure we could slip away without drawing any undue attention, Godric forbid, with a book in tow!”

So that explained why she was the only one lingering at the library. Though it made sense, it stirred a tinge of melancholy within her.

Curiosity nudged her to question further, her tone now coloured with intrigue. “Who is this guy? Flewchief? And why the necessity for secrecy around his book?” Her queries were genuine and earnest, though sadness crept into her voice as their playful exchange segued into a more sober dialogue.

Fred swayed his head before replying, “He's a master at pranks.”

An eyebrow arched in response, (y/n)'s curiosity unabated. While she may not have been an expert in the art of pranking, one would expect to have heard of such a renowned figure, right?

Observing her perplexity, Fred inhaled deeply before disclosing, his voice lowered almost to a whisper, “He's a muggle author.”

Recognition flashed across (y/n)'s face, though she remained silent. Yet, subtle shifts in her posture – a subtle sag of her shoulders, a slight tightening of her lips – betrayed a sentiment that did not escape Fred's notice. He understood the Slytherin disposition all too well; prejudices were not uncommon.

She unravelled a piece of herself with an unexpected candour, her words confounding Fred's expectations. Instead of disparaging comments or dismissing glances, she offered something else entirely. 

“I want to be a writer for muggles,” she confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “I like to write fantasy, you know. But that's not a genre for wizards; our reality often rivals the most fantastical of fiction. So, my focus turns toward the muggle readers.”

Though caught off guard by the revelation, Fred remained silent, feeling a surge of admiration for her. He hadn't anticipated such a response.

“I can help you find Flewchief's book,” she offered, swiftly transitioning past the exposure of her own secret, determined not to let her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I know this library well, particularly the section reserved for muggle authors. I presume you and George have little familiarity with the place.”

A crooked smile curled upon his lips in response. “Indeed,” he admitted with a chuckle, “you could even say 'no familiarity'; it's quite fitting.”

While (y/n) couldn't quite fathom how any student or individual could navigate life without venturing into the depths of a library, she empathized with their unfamiliarity. The muggle literature section was cloaked in segregation as if Hogwarts itself was disconcerted by such volumes.

Rising from her seat, she gathered her assortment of potion books. Truth be told, she harboured no illusions about accomplishing any meaningful research that afternoon. She left only one book behind – the one currently cradled in Fred's grasp.

“Are you coming or…?" Her voice hung in the air, a hint of playful theatricality accompanying her question.

Promptly, Fred sprang from his chair, the solitary book still in his possession. With (y/n) as his guide, they embarked on a journey through the library's labyrinthine aisles. Initially, they returned her stack of books to Madam Irma Pince, whose sole acknowledgement was a fleeting glance, her eyes flitting over the pile as it landed on her counter. Her gaze flickered momentarily as if recognition finally settled in at the sight of the redheaded companion beside (y/n).

“A Weasley," Madam Irma Pince declared, her observation stating the obvious. Fred, however, found himself grappling with an appropriate response. Ultimately, he opted for a shrug, his head tilting in acquiescence.

“I’m Fred,” he offered, his voice laced with a touch of formality. “But, you are absolutely correct, I am a Weasley."

It was abundantly clear that the librarian was well aware of which Weasley he was. 

“Don’t tear my books apart,” she cautioned, her voice edged with warning. “And don’t you dare burn this place down.”

Fred's lips pressed into a tight line, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. He responded with a curt, “Noted."

(y/n) glanced up at Fred and then to the side, studying his expression. His tone left her somewhat perplexed – she couldn't discern if he was indulging in sarcastic provocation or if he held genuine offence at Madam Irma Pince's admonitions. She reflected that the torrent of criticisms from every adult figure must have been tiring. Yet, the twins hadn't acquired their notoriety by chance; their reputation as school pranksters was well-earned.

The three exchanged furtive glances before Madam Irma Pince averted her gaze to her counter. Her intentions, on the other side, remained veiled to (y/n). Fred possessed the capability to peek, but (y/n) held doubts about him exercising that prerogative.

Clearing her throat, (y/n) eased away from the librarian, and Fred followed suit.

“Take me to George,” she requested. Detecting Fred's immediate confusion, she elaborated, “So both of you can scour the shelves for the books. I can assist, but I'm not quite tall enough to reach all of the shelves.”

“Again," Fred inclined his head toward her, and at that moment, a subtle shift occurred, the playful dance of flirtation vanishing as swiftly as it had emerged, “Thank you for the assistance”. His expression was appreciative, genuine, a quiet acknowledgement of her assistance.

With a soft smile, she replied, “Don't mention it," her voice bearing a hushed quality, her gaze evading direct eye contact. “You’ll just own me one.”

He chuckled, “Uh, the unspoken possibilities.”

Indeed, Fred. Indeed.

It was a rather cold day. 

But it was Saturday and Hogsmeade trip day, so (y/n) put on her thickest coat and decided to face the snow.

Her fellow housemates buzzed with excitement, eagerly anticipating the visit. Yet, for (y/n), this outing held a more sombre purpose – a pilgrimage to Honeydukes. While her friends were pursuing quills and ingredients, (y/n) sought only solace in candy. These past few days had been trying, and the kitchen house elves had quietly declared her persona non grata, etching “no longer welcomed" onto their secret walls. So she’d have to buy her own sweets from now on.

“Feeling hot today?” a voice chimed from behind (y/n).

She clutched herself, attempting to stave off the relentless cold. Hogsmeade always exuded a chill, but it seemed that nature was intent on pushing the mercury even lower today. Not even her trusty coat could entirely repel the biting wind.

The voice was familiar; she recognised it as belonging to Fred Weasley.

“Where’s your other half?” she asked, noticing George wasn’t around.

“At the school,” Fred replied, bridging the distance with a few long strides. Given the frigid weather, (y/n) moved slowly, rivalling the old ladies of Diagon Alley. “He's caught the flu.”

A chuckle escaped (y/n), though her amusement was laced with empathy. “After today, I might end up just as sick.”

Fred mirrored her laughter, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle. Then, shifting his gaze towards their right, his expression became more earnest. “Come on, let’s get you something warm. Tea?”

True to his suggestion, Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop loomed just a few steps away.

(y/n) scanned her surroundings, from Fred to the inviting facade of the shop, and for a fleeting moment, the idea appealed to her. But then, a mental alarm sounded – this place was renowned for romantic trysts, a haven for couples from their year. For a time, (y/n) had considered herself above such traditions. But as her sixteenth birthday came and went, and she remained unattached, she longed for the experience of a boy inviting her to tea. Now, at eighteen, it seemed more a fanciful dream than a tangible possibility.

So Fred was definitely not suggesting it as a date.

“I actually have to head to Honeydukes,” she replied, her features arranged in a grimace, and she gestured with her body towards the store at the far end of the bustling Hogsmeade street. “That's the only reason I'm still here.”

Fred bit his lip in thought. “How about we grab a tea to go, then?” he proposed, his determination unwavering. He peered down at her, shivering in the cold, taking in her petite frame. “In less than fifteen minutes, you'll be on your way back to Hogwarts.”

The notion of sipping on something piping hot was increasingly appealing.

“Promise?” she asked, her tone a touch childlike.

Fred extended his pinky finger, encased in a slightly faded red glove – likely a Weasley hand-me-down. Not that (y/n) considered herself entitled or wealthy, but it was common knowledge that the Weasleys weren't the richest in monetary terms. Yet, they were undeniably wealthy in children.

Her own pinky fingers remained nestled deep within her pockets, safe from the cold. Fred glanced down and chuckled.

“Come on.”

She sighed, “Fine, Weasley. But you're footing the bill,” and when she noticed he was about to playfully protest, she added, “You were the one who insisted, after all.”

They walked together, resembling a pair of penguins navigating the icy terrain. (y/n)’s hands, nestled within her coat pockets, were shielded from the biting cold, yet their elbows still grazed one another now and then as they strolled leisurely.

Fred gallantly held the door open, allowing her to enter the cosy shop, and she expressed her gratitude in a soft murmur. While he proceeded to the counter to place their order (when queried, (y/n) simply requested, “Any tea will do, as long as it's the hottest available"), she contemplated the peculiar friendship that had taken root between them.

She'd never been an opponent of Fred, or the Weasleys, or anyone within Gryffindor, as one might have assumed. However, their closeness was a relatively recent development. When confronted with one of the twins' pranks, (y/n) was often the first to laugh, captivated by the sheer audacity of their exploits. She believed magic should be harnessed for amusement, not as a weapon; consequently, she found their approach to their magical talents endearing.

Because of her laughter, Fred and George had never targeted her with their pranks. Their mischief was generally directed at Malfoy and his ilk. Occasionally, she'd return to her common room and find something amiss, but she understood it was their way of rebelling against the entirety of Slytherin and its values rather than a personal affront.

By her fifth year, (y/n) considered Fred and George her acquaintances. They exchanged nods in the classrooms and other shared spaces. Being in the same year, she had grown accustomed to their voices and learned to differentiate between them.

Moreover, the Weasley twins had a certain charisma that she couldn't deny. She had met Fred’s older brothers before, so their good looks were no surprise. She realised this charm extended to Fred as he approached with two cups of steaming tea.

His freckles had always been a distinctive feature she admired. Yet now, she also noticed the appeal of his height, his shoulders broad and strong, typical of a Beater. His hair appeared soft and straight, inviting her fingers to run through its fiery strands, although she knew better than to entertain such notions.

Strangely, it was his nose that intrigued her the most. It was the distinguishing feature that allowed her to differentiate between Fred and George. She found it more masculine and captivating than the rest of his features. Not to mention his chest, which had once tantalisingly revealed his abs through a sweaty Quidditch shirt during a match. The sport certainly worked wonders on bodies.

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. She freed her hands from her pockets only with the prospect of holding something scolding hot.

Fred observed her closely as she tasted the tea, noticing how her eyes momentarily closed in bliss and how her body seemed to uncoil, the tension in her shoulders dissipating.

“All right, off to Honeydukes I go," she declared, pivoting towards the Tea Shop's exit.

Fred followed her, hastening to hold the door open once more. A subtle blush dusted her cheeks, and she was relieved that the shop was still relatively empty. A couple occupied a dimly lit corner but seemed too concentrated on each other to notice Fred Weasley being nice to a Slytherin girl. So that’s saying a lot about how entertained that random teenage couple was.

As they stepped back into the brisk Hogsmeade air, (y/n) noticed that Fred was still at her side. She didn't voice any complaint, though. Ever since the day he had sought her help at the library, she had resigned herself to the idea that she might never get the opportunity to converse with Fred alone again. George was always around, and if not him, then someone else. And even though, if she tried, (y/n) could engage in conversation with the other twin or with a Gryffindor student, she would rather not. 

In fact, it was rare to find someone she would like to engage in conversation with.

Fred was a… welcoming surprise.

“Uh," Fred's voice cut through the silence, which had settled between them as they enjoyed their tea, “can we make a quick stop here?"

They were passing by Zonko's Joke Shop, renowned for its extensive collection of prankster essentials. Of course, the shop would undoubtedly be on Fred's daily checklist. However, his request to pause at the store intrigued (y/n), given that she had never envisioned walking with him that day. Sure, he had treated her to tea, but that hardly counted as an expense, and she had mentioned her eagerness to return to Hogwarts promptly.

“It won't take long, I promise," he assured her, taking note of her delayed response. “Just add five more minutes to your wait. I'll escort you back, no worries."

(y/n) hesitated for a moment. “You really don't have to do that," she replied, taken aback by his gentlemanly offer.

“As if I'd let you make the journey alone."

She gazed at him in the wake of his response. “I'm a witch," she pointed out the obvious. “It's not like I can't handle a few dangers."

Fred cocked his head, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. “Can you defend yourself against the cold?"

She didn't respond; her answer would have been a resounding ‘no.'

“That's what I thought," he declared, a knowing smile dancing on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, her free hand resting on her hip, her other still cradling her tea. “And what can you do to protect me from the cold?" she challenged Fred.

His smile grew, and he knew he had the perfect response. “Keep you from slipping on the icy ground."

Annoyed by his accuracy, she sighed loudly as they entered the joke shop.

The shop was bubbling with people: it was a living organism. (y/n) struggled to recall the last time she had set foot in this place. She had certainly visited the joke shop before, back in her third year when students were first allowed to venture into the village. Like her peers, she had eagerly explored every store without exception. However, as time passed, most of the shops had become familiar and somewhat ordinary to her. She only made the trip to Hogsmeade with a purpose now. Coming just for butterbeer seemed pointless, especially when she lacked the company of friends to sit with and share laughter.

So, following Fred Weasley as he browsed around the shop put her in a silent trance of observation and gaping. He moved confidently, searching for items and locating them quickly, with the same precision she'd demonstrated when she'd guided him through the library the other day. (y/n) followed at his heels, like a child following its guardian. In less than three minutes, they were already in line to pay.

“How do you know where everything is?" she asked, enjoying the moment of calm the checkout line offered. “I don't think gathering all that took you more than five minutes."

And it was indeed quite a haul. Fred's two hands cradled dozens of boxes and items like precious cargo in his lap. The teacup he had been carrying was now held securely by (y/n), ensuring that her hands were occupied with warm objects to fend off the cold.

Fred responded with a casual shrug to her question. “How do you know where all the books are in the library?" he countered.

“I don't know," she replied, her response unfiltered. “I guess I've just memorised it over time."

“Me too," he said, his eyes fixed on the shop as if watching his beloved. “Not to give reason to my fame at Hogwarts, but of course, my favourite shop has to be Zonko’s."

The line at the checkout stretched long, leaving (y/n) and Fred standing in contemplative silence, pondering the curious connection that seemed to be budding between them. Amid it all, (y/n)'s thoughts swelled like a bubbling potion. Were they friends now? Could she consider adding him to her list of friends for Christmas shopping? These questions lingered, but she found herself without a clear answer. It felt odd to directly ask such a thing; friends didn’t ask if they were friends. They either were or weren’t, organically becoming over time.

But despite the comfort she felt around Fred, she couldn't quite label it friendship. The issue, she concluded, was her own. She had a deficit of friends and now understood why: she wasn't wired for it. Friendship wasn't part of her programming. Fred, on the other hand, was a different breed. Friendship was his natural state, woven into his very essence. He exuded a friendly aura, even if many Slytherins would vehemently disagree.

She didn't need to wonder whether he considered her a friend. He most likely did. He never targeted her with pranks; he exchanged glances with her in class often and was currently offering to escort her back to school. Fred saw her as a friend.

But did she want that?

“What are you thinking?” he inquired, pulling her out of her contemplative reverie.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, relaxing his shoulders. “I can see the smoke coming out of your ears like a cauldron.”

She had no clever reply, so she was content with wrinkling her forehead and lying. “I’m thinking about how quickly I will be able to get all the candy I want. Definitely not as quick as you, here.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Why?”

“I love candy and definitely know where everything is at the shop,” she explained, tilting her head unconsciously as she spoke. She explained, unconsciously tilting her head while talking. “But I have to gather enough to last until our next trip to Hogsmeade, and I'm not certain I can calculate that. I love chocolate, so one would assume I'd need to buy a lot to make it last. However, if I get too much, I'll eat more than I should. And trust me, I will eat everything I buy," she concluded with a hint of warning in her tone, as if she were issuing a threat rather than sharing a piece of information.

Fred swallowed hard, trying to wrap his head around her unique thought process. “Are you stockpiling sweets?"

She nodded, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

“Well, if you do end up eating it all, I'll show you where to get more, you know, from the kitchen with the house elves," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he were secretly pleased with himself for sharing this tidbit.

“Oh, Weasley," she shook her head, dramatically feigning pitifulness. “I already know the secret passage to the kitchen. That's precisely why I have to stockpile chocolate in the first place. I've been painted as a criminal there for how many sweets I've pilfered."

He couldn't help but chuckle, though he kept it discreet.

“I can't believe it," Fred said with mock disbelief, then paused as if pondering again. “Well, actually, I can."

With the two cups of tea-to-go in her hands, she raised her shoulders in a half-shrug while raising her hands in tandem.

“So yeah," she concluded, “I have to stock up until the Professors allow us to come here again."

Staring at him, (y/n) couldn't help but think that Fred was on the verge of saying something. However, something must have caused him to change his mind, and he remained uncharacteristically silent. A few seconds later, he was called to the cashier to settle the bill for his items. (y/n) patiently waited behind him, casually sipping her tea.

When Fred returned to her side, the numerous small boxes he'd been clutching had been consolidated into just two cardboard bags, which he effortlessly carried in one hand. The two of them exited the joke shop, savouring the last remnants of their teas. By the time they reached Honeydukes, the cups had already been discreetly disposed of in the nearest bin.

“Have fun," he wished her warmly, courteously holding the door of the candy shop open for her to enter. (y/n) returned his friendly sentiment with a smile—precisely the sort of well-wishing one would expect before embarking on a shopping spree in a candy store.

Fred lingered in a quiet corner of the shop, surreptitiously observing as she gleefully navigated the aisles, carefully selecting her candies and placing them into a plastic basket a diligent store employee offered. She appeared far more animated here than he had ever seen her before—back in the library, she had come across as somewhat bored, and the same was true in their shared classes. While she undeniably held the status of a top student with excellent grades, Fred couldn't help but wonder why she seemed to lack the enthusiasm and focus he might have expected from someone of her academic calibre.

However, gathering her desired assortment of sweets took considerably longer than the five minutes Fred had initially anticipated. When he finally met up with her at the cashier, the man behind the counter handed over not one, not two, but three full bags of assorted candies and confections.

Fred couldn't help but jest, “Wow, someone's clearly outdone me."

“Mine's supposed to last longer," she retorted with a wry smile, determined to maintain her composure. 

Fred's grin only broadened. "Will it, though?"

There was no malice behind his teasing; his natural inclination was to engage in playful banter, a habit he would have indulged with George, Ginny, or anyone else. If anything, he found himself enjoying the camaraderie that was forming between them, appreciating the quick-witted exchanges that characterised their interactions. And (y/n)'s response was predictable by now—a blend of half-anger and half-challenge that had come to define her expressions.

They left the candy store, their playful back-and-forth continuing as they walked, with Fred progressively leaning in closer with each exchange.

Fred's next question unintentionally left (y/n) feeling mortified as they approached the Three Broomsticks. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a good, old butterbeer?” he asked. “It’s alright if you do. I won’t linger at your friends’ table; I’ll just drop you there and find Oliver Wood or someone else.” He said, using Oliver as an example, for he was the one name he remembered to have seen around the village.

It was weird, now that Fred had come to think of it, how he did not recall seeing one person from Hogwarts around Hogsmeade, even though he knew it was a crowded day there.

She had no friends to meet there or anywhere else. She cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact, “I don't have friends in there."

The proximity to the inn allowed them a clear view through the frosty windows, revealing the familiar faces of fellow students enjoying butterbeer.

“Why? Haven't they come to Hogsmeade?" Fred asked in surprise, momentarily distracted by the scene inside. “I swear that's Carmen Highland if my eyes aren't deceiving me," he remarked, gazing at the occupants within.

Lost in the sight of her former friends, Fred hadn't noticed that (y/n) was gradually distancing herself from him. She knew Carmen and recognised the other kids at her table — Andrea, Miniu, and Shenny. But they weren't friends anymore. 

At least, not anymore.

“It is Carmen,” she reassured him, in case Fred would start considering he was indeed blind. “We’re just not friends, though.”

Fred finally snapped out of gazing through the cold glass window and returned his gaze to her.

“I distinctly remember all of you being quite lively at dinners and walking around classes," he said, furrowing his brows. “Unless Carmen has look-alikes I'm unaware of, I'm certain it's her. I've seen her during my Quidditch practices, competing for the pitch." 

A smile tinged with embarrassment danced on (y/n)'s lips. She smiled not because she was pleased with the memories but because she was trying to conceal her inner gloom.  “I used to walk with Carmen, and Miniu, and Andrea and Shenny. But that was way before.”

“No, I…”

“It was, Freddie,” she interrupted before he made her remember another memory. It was only because of her use of his nickname that he understood she wasn’t alright. “We were friends in the first year. Us and a bunch of other kids, so tight together because we were Slytherin, and we had to stick together because then we’d be victims of bullying from other houses.” Fred opened his mouth, but she continued, “Don’t deny it.”

Fred sighed and nodded.

“In our second year, the group started to shrink, and it ended up being just me and that table," she explained, her gaze distant, as if the memories were playing out before her eyes. "But I began to feel like I was there because I forced myself to be. I was being pushy. So when I stopped going, they didn't chase after me. That's when it became clear to me what our relationship was."

“What was it?" Fred inquired, genuinely perplexed, prompting (y/n) to wonder if he had ever experienced the abrupt end of a friendship.

“They weren't my friends," (y/n) stated matter-of-factly. “We didn't have a falling out or anything. I still greet them, and occasionally, we help each other with homework in the common room. But that's about it."

Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully, pondering the right words to respond with.

“Alright," he finally conceded. “I won't pry further," he said, his expression more serious now. “I can't quite fathom how a friendship could simply unravel like that, but it's clear it's not a cheerful matter. However, that doesn't mean you can't be with your other friends."

She rolled her eyes with exasperation and turned away from Fred and the entrance of the Three Broomsticks, her boots crunching softly in the freshly fallen snow.

“I don't have friends," she sighed, her breath visible in the crisp, wintry air. She could hear his footsteps, somehow always close behind.

Fred waited until he was walking right alongside her before he replied; his tone was soft and comforting. “You have me," he said, then hastily cleared his throat. “I mean, you have us. Me and George. I still owe you one from our library escapade."

“Consider it settled," she responded, her voice edged with a hint of exhaustion and her gaze averted. “You gave me a cup of tea, after all."

“That was just courtesy," Fred explained, his lips curving into a friendly smile, thinking their usual playful banter had resumed.

But (y/n) was weary, and it showed in her demeanour.

“Well, you're accompanying me back to the school," she tried again, her tone tinged with finality. “So consider that debt paid."

“Nah," he waved his free hand dismissively. “That's just me being a proper gentleman."

She rolled her eyes once more, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. “Fred..."

“We're friends, alright," he insisted, his tone gentle yet resolute, raising his voice slightly. “You have a friend... in me."

Without warning, (y/n) halted in her tracks, pivoting to face him fully, her expression a mixture of astonishment, incredulity, and a hint of amusement.

“Did you just quote a Muggle movie at me?" she asked, her voice showing disbelief.

“I’m sorry?”

“‘You have a friend in me’,” she repeated his words, this time adding a melody to her tone. “Did you quote the Toy Story song?”

“A toy story? Where is it?” he was genuinely confused, which led (y/n) to drop the subject since it was evident he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Never mind," she sighed, resuming her pace. “It's from a Muggle movie."

“And you've seen it?" Fred's stride matched hers again, his curiosity piqued.

“Unfortunately," she replied, her lips twisting in mild distaste. “I didn't quite enjoy it."

“Oh, why not?" Fred inquired with interest.

“It was... about friendship," she said, taking a moment to complete her sentence.

“I see," Fred mused, nodding thoughtfully as they walked towards the school, the snow beneath their feet offering a soft, comforting crunch with every step. “Perhaps I should watch it.”

“Yeah, why not,” she replied, not really wanting to participate in the conversation.

Fred knew when to shut up when he should, so they remained silent until the school entrance was visible.

“Uh, thank you,” (y/n) told him as they stopped in the middle of Hogwarts’ entrance corridor. It was a relatively empty hallway.

“See you around,” he nodded, and she bit her lip, turning her heels towards her House. “Friend,” Fred added a second later, only to see her turn her gaze over her shoulder.

“Bye, Weasley,” she said with a heavy breath out of resignation.

[artemisiamezzanotte]

Why both Jily and Jegulus make sense in the Marauders Fandom

Okay, so I have been seeing a few posts recently dismissing Jegulus as a ship and, although I am personally more of a Jily than a Jegulus girly, I thought I'd explain why both ships make sense to me in the context of the original source material.

We know that there is a direct link between the Marauders and the Golden Trio in the books, and that each member of one mirrors a member of the other.

James and Harry being the most obvious, as father and son and the perceived 'leader' of their group of friends.

Sirius and Ron, the 'best friend'. Both from pureblood families, although the Blacks and the Weasleys couldn't be more different in their beliefs. Both feel misunderstood and perhaps misplaced in their family. Both give James and Harry unadulterated, solid friendship that is fiercely loyal and unquestioning.

Remus and Hermione, the outcasts. Remus due to his lycanthropy, Hermione due to her muggleborn status. Both try to counterbalance this by excelling in their studies and are, by nature (again, this is in the original books) more rule-followers rather than rebels.

Peter and Neville, the astonished Gryffindors. Both from pureblood families, both equally surprised by being sorted in the house where bravery is valued most. They each deal with impostor syndrome, but whilst Neville's friends build him up and he eventually comes into his own thanks to Dumbledore's Army, Peter fails (or is failed by his friends) in doing so and betrays them for the dark side.

We know that Harry ends up marrying Ginny, who is, like Lily, a magically talented and strong-willed red-haired witch but is also his best friend's younger sibling. So, James falling for Regulus doesn't feel like too far a stretch to me.

Jegulus also gives the opportunities to explore a lot of interesting considerations for writers, such as (i) what is the difference between loving someone as a best friend and loving someone romantically; (ii) you can't choose the family you are born into but you can make your own family as you grow older; (iii) what are the differences in relationship dynamics between partners, lifelong friends and siblings?

I'm sure someone has more cleverly and thoroughly analysed these parallels before but I just wanted to share my unsolicited opinion with the tubmlrverse.

Overall, I would say if you enjoy reading something, read it. If you find yourself not enjoying something, DON'T. Freedom is fickle in this flawed world, so exercise it ruthlessly where you can.

Ok, rant over, Misia out x

[allthesmutl0vers]

The Weight of Blood: Tom/Theo/Draco/Regulus/Fem!Reader (A/N--TW--Prologue)

NSFW,MDNI,18+,Triggering Content Masterlist Pairing: Tom Riddle/Theo Nott/Draco Malfoy/Regulus Black/Fem!Reader Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated. Summary: When students return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for their final year, their biggest obstacle is passing their final exams. At least, that’s how it should be. But life has never been that easy for y/n. Between juggling the rocky, and some would say, an abusive relationship she has with one quidditch star, Cormac McLaggen, and cramming for her exams, she never finds the time to enjoy the things she loves. Ice skating, reading by the fire, riding a broom, or taking a walk through the forbidden forest to look for animals to capture with her camera. Little does she know, a storm is brewing. A storm that could rip away everything she holds dear, upending her life, even threatening to end it once and for all. A storm that is caused by the perceived weight her blood holds against those who hold the title weight, pure-blood. Being driven straight into the walls of the castle by four very handsome, very dangerous Slytherin boys. But will her being caught in the eyes of these boys be enough to change the direction of the wind? Or will they leave her to fight for herself in the eye of the storm?  Only time will tell.  If there is enough of it, at least.  “I wouldn’t call it love. I’d call it an obsession.” - Tom Riddle IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a DARK ROMANCE, please take a look at the trigger warnings, and make sure you are comfortable reading this story before you start it. This story may not be for everyone. This is a multi-part story. I will be updating it as well as 'Managing Mischief' (Weasley Twins/Fem!Reader) throughout the week. You can click below to read more. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Author’s Note

This story is a fan-fiction. I do not own any of the characters, places, or situations within this story besides those that I create. 

Please do not print, bind, or sell this work, as it would be an illegal act. Keep our writers and stories safe, legal, and free for all to enjoy. 

This is a dark romance. Some situations/actions may be triggering/unsuitable for some.

With all of that being said, please read the Content and trigger Warnings.

Your Mental Health Matters.

Domestic Violence Hotline: (Call) 800-799-723 (Text-BEGIN) to 88788

Suicide Prevention Hotline: (Text/Call) 988 

Self-Harm Hotline: (Call) 1-800-366-8288 (Text-CONNECT) to741741

Sexual-Assult Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

You are not alone. 

It is not your fault.

The world is better with you in it. 

My DMs are open if you need someone to talk to. Or simply someone to listen.

Content and Trigger Warnings

Abusive Relationship: Slapping, Non-Con Touching (mentioned only), Rape (mentioned only), Degradation (and not the kind we like), Humiliation, One On-Page Punch (past ones implied), Victim Blaming, Revenge Porn. 

Violence: Fist Fights, Magical Cursing, Blood, Attempted Drowning, Knife To Throat Threats

Character Death

Depression

Attempted Suicide 

Self-Harm

HEAVY Smut: One-On-One, Three, Four, and Fivesome scenes.

Heavy BDSM: Bondage, Magical Restraints, Spanking, Choking, Dom/Sub Relationships, Ownership Kink, Shared Ownership Kink, Sir Kink, Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex, Primal Play, Knife Play, Blood Play, Marking/Branding Kinks, Orgasm Denial/Control, Edging, Overstimulation, Double Penetration, Anal Sex, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Breeding Kink. 

Found Family

Betrayal

Discrimination: Based on blood-status. 

Bullying

This story is Multi-POV, but primarily told from the Reader’s point of view.

Dedication

For all of us who have dreamed of being rescued, only to realize we had the power all along.

Prologue

Tom

Blood status amongst wizards and witches is the most powerful, most prominent, and most valuable thing we possess. Without it, how would we know who is worthy of our time? Or, more importantly, our loyalty.

Or so I’ve always been taught.

Even in the summer, the manor is dark, casting shadows along the cold corridors as we all gather for the first official meeting. Inside the grand dining room of Malfoy Manor, the parents are anxious, wondering if it’s a trap. Not that I blame them for keeping their children close to them. But those I have grown to think of as friends can handle their own. As they’ve proved not just their abilities, but their loyalty a hundred times over. 

My parents died long ago, not that I care. Why should I? I never met them. My father was a filthy muggle, and my mother a blood-traitor who died for love of all things. Not that anyone knows that. They couldn’t, and they never will. 

The door opens, and in walks our leader. The head of the charge against mud-bloods, is here to lead us into putting them in their rightful place, beneath our feet. Wirely and unruly black hair that hangs to her waist and long black robes that hang loosely around her frame, she steps up to the head of the table. 

“You may be seated,” she says calmly, but her tone is also commanding. Everyone sits down around the table, myself included. Not daring to speak, not daring to ask the first question. She takes a long sip of her wine before leaning on the table, propping herself on her elbows as her fingers interlock. 

“Firstly, I would like to thank you all for joining me here this evening. As I’m sure you are well aware, we are under attack,” she says stiffly. “Mud-bloods have never been more common than they are now. Threatening to throw everything we hold most dear out of order,” she looks around. “But no longer will we stand for it. No longer will we be seated at a table with those who don’t deserve to sit.”

“Hear, hear,” Mr. Nott says cheerfully, raising his now fourth glass of wine.

Bellatrix smiles and nods once. “Our biggest issue, as of now, is getting more people to come on board. These progressionistic,” she seethes. “People in the ministry and confirmed blood-traitors, are most unlikely to accept the eradication of muggle-born individuals. So, how do we combat this?” She asks openly. 

Lucius clears his throat. “May I suggest, instead of death, exile instead?” 

Stupid suggestion.

Bellatrix sits back in her seat as if pondering the ridiculous idea. “To allow them to continue mating and breeding on their own accord?” She says with a tone dripping in disappointment. “Free of any repercussions?” Lucius opens his mouth to speak again when she stops him, raising her hand. “Any other ideas?” 

“My lady,” Mrs. Nott speaks up, setting down her glass of wine. “Perhaps we re-visit the ideals and ideas of Grindelwald?” Bellatrix nods for her to continue. “It seems it would be much easier to control the mud-bloods, should we have the muggles fighting alongside us,” Almost everyone snickers at the idea. “As mundane and contradictory as it may seem, there are more muggles than us. Should we find some way to control them and will them to fight for us, we could overthrow the ministry. Implement our laws and ideals, then control everyone.”

Bit ambitious and a far stretch, but the idea is there. 

“Where is Grindelwald right now, Mrs. Nott?” Bellatrix asks simply. 

“Pardon?” Mrs. Nott asks with a confused expression. 

“Theodore,” Bellatrix turns to her son instead. “Remind your dear mother where Grindelwald is at present.” 

Theo clears his throat, sitting up straighter. “Azkaban, Ms. Lestrange,” he answers cooly. 

“Azkaban. That is correct,” she nods at Theo with a smile before turning to the rest of us. “I would like to remind everyone that muggles are not our concern. They are less than a speck of dirt. What we need to focus on is reestablishing pure-blood family lines. Now, how do we gain control without killing? Use your heads.” 

“Capture,” I answer calmly. 

“And then?” Bellatrix asks me with a smile. 

“Put them in their rightful place, of course. Serving us. Our every whim and desire,” I answer, taking a sip of my bourbon. 

Bellatrix smiles and nods. “Yes, yes. Make them fight for us, serve us,” she ponders. “Very good, Mr. Riddle. I wish the others at this table shared your common sense.” 

My chest swells with pride, but I keep my face collected. 

“Now, let’s talk strategy,” Bellatrix says cheerfully.

Part One

[sitp-recs]

Hey Liv, I was sure you had an epistolary list somewhere, but I can’t seem to find it.

Would you have some recs for me? It doesn’t have to be full epistolary, as long as there are a few letters exchanged.

Thank you

Hi anon! I’m pretty sure I have an epistolary list somewhere but for some reason I can’t access my masterlists atm (which is mildly concerning lol I hope it’s just an app glitch on my phone) but in any case here are some recs for you!

Re: Harry's Crush by @lettersbyelise (T, 4k)

Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs.

Garden War by @cibeewastaken (T, 5k)

Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better ?

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping.

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

Let's Go Outside by cryptonym (E, 24k)

Harry's done with the sofa, the hall and the kitchen table, baby.

On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

Howlr by partialtopotter (E, 47k)

Howlr is the new dating application enchanting Witches, Wizards and Everyone in between. Are you looking for the one or a one-night stand; it’s all here folks. Howlr is sponsored by Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the same team that brought us the Spellular just two years ago. Ginny Weasley, famed chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies, swears by the app, ‘guaranteed to make sparks fly,’ she says. The magic awaits you!

Catch 22 by jad (E, 50k)

As if NEWTS weren't enough, Dumbledore's gone and had another one of his 'bright ideas.' If all ends well, the Houses will be getting along in no time. Or according to Harry's correspondent, an Apocalypse will be in order.

Bonus: art!

Going Postal by dustmouth (T)

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

[emeritusemeritus]

HIII im so happy your requests are open you’re one of my favorite writers on here!!! i’ve been craving more twins x reader content and i’ve always wanted to see them pining after an oblivious customer at the shop like literally spelling it out for her and just her being a bit dense thinking that she’s just a valued customer 😀 love your work and hope you have a great week!!

Thank you so much!! This was an absolute pleasure to write, I really hope it’s okay for you! 🖤

Warnings: None? Mentions of implied kissing, reader is completely oblivious. Fred is as charming as ever and George is a sweetheart.

Word count: 1.8k

Paying Customers.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had quickly become your favourite spot in all of Diagon Alley. It was vibrant and exciting, a draw for many witches and wizards without any hint of discrimination and it didn't hurt that the two owners were two of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, not that you'd dream of telling them that.

Your first visit to the shop has been an accident really, hunting down a perfect gift for your nephew who was just about to start his first year at Hogwarts. One of the owners, who you found out to be Fred had helped you find the most perfect gift that had been an overwhelming success with your nephew. The second time, he was slightly different than you remembered and you'd convinced yourself that you had just remembered him differently until the very man you'd been secretly thinking about since your first time at the shop walked out and greeted you with a big smile. That was the first time you met George, and unceremoniously found out that they were identical twins.

Since then you'd been back numerous times, sometimes for gifts, sometimes for more personal reasons and has even started dropping in on your lunch break just to chat to the twins as your friendship grew. They were abundantly friendly and chatty, so naturally funny and charming that it was easy to talk with them and they always made you feel incredibly welcome. Fred had invited you to the shop to share your lunch break together multiple times and you'd even found yourself hanging around as the store closed around you because George wanted company.

"I'm so excited!" Valerie, one of your best friends says enthusiastically as you step into Diagon Alley. She was from France and was educated at Beauxbatons, missing the cut off for the Triwizard Tournament by one year, something she was still peeved about. She was visiting you in London and she'd made you promise to take her to the place you kept mentioning in your letters.

You laugh along, seeing her excited face as you round the corner, walking past Ollivanders until the figurehead of the twins appeared up ahead, the brilliantly vibrant orange building standing out against the muted palettes of the other shops.

"Afternoon ladies," you hear from beside you, waking a grin spread across your face. Fred.

"Hi Freddie," you smile up at him, seeing his broad grin already stretched out across his face. His gaze flashes to Val and you briefly introduce them until your attention is pulled away by George who appears on your other side, already eagerly talking to you about the new product he'd been working on, the same one you'd offered to help with only the other night, pausing briefly to introduce himself to Val.

"Right Georgie, reckon we best get back to the paying customers," Fred says with a wink in your direction, pulling his brother away as they go back to assisting the other customers in the shop. George touches your shoulder gently as he squeezes past and gives you a sweet smile before heading off, immediately going over to a little boy and his mum who are looking at the Pygmy puffs. Your eyes trail towards Fred who's lingering around the love potion stand, trying to flog them to a group of witches who look to be around their third year. When he spots you looking, he gives you a little smirk and another wink, gesturing towards the love potions with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You can't help but smile, giggling a little before you look away, turning back to Val.

Her eyebrow is raised at you and her face holds a knowing smirk, already implying something.

"So what did they mean 'paying customers', are you not one?"

You give a little shrug, "they give me a discount, sometimes they let me test things, it's nothing really."

Her face says everything she isn't saying, she's delighted but judgy, as if she doesn't believe a single thing you were saying. You laugh and nudge her gently, "really, we're friends."

"Very friendly friends?" She teases with a wiggle of her eyebrows but you nudge her again and tell her to behave, not wanting to get into it, especially in a place that created and sold extendable ears, nothing was safe from the Weasley Twins.

She walks over to the Peruvian instant darkness powder, picking up a crystal and examining it in her hands with a smile on her face.

"So how can you tell them apart? You knew straight away," she says, casting her gaze over to you as she puts down the crystal and moves across to the next shelf, the display of wonderwitch products; carefully avoiding the puking pastilles on the way.

"Oh I don't know, they don't look that similar to me anymore. I suppose it's mannerisms mainly, Fred usually talks first and George is better at explaining things," you explain, stopping your eyes from wandering back to the owners.

"Hmm," she says with a smirk, still holding back what she was going to say.

Suddenly, the rolling ladder appears from the side with George clutching on to the steps, his smile splayed across his face as he appears.

"Pimple vanisher, yeah it really works," George says nodding his head, "tried it myself, well on Ron anyway. Ten seconds and your spots are gone."

"But how?" Val says, beguiled by the magic behind it. You stand back and watch, enjoying seeing George so effortlessly charming, showing what he'd created.

"Course, some of us don't need it do we y/n?" He says, looking up to you with a sweet smile, "must be good genetics."

"Or maybe I'm an avid Wheezes tester with a very rigid skincare routine," you play along, holding up the little pot of vanisher.

"That's a good sale!" He says with excitement, "want a job? Could do with prettying up the employees."

"Pretty sure you and Fred were trying to work out who was more handsome last night, I think you know you're pretty enough," you smirk, earning a chuckle from George.

"Clearly I won," he adds, flashing a grin at Val.

"What are everlasting eyelashes?" She says, picking at the pink and black box.

"Exactly what they say on the box," George flashes her a teasing smirk before pulling you closer to him by the hand, displaying you. "Want lashes like these? Make the boys really notice your beautiful eyes? Just need this box and your dreams will come true."

"You think she has beautiful eyes?" Val teases, goading George but it doesn't work, he bites back almost instantly, nodding enthusiastically.

"Wanted to put her photo on the box but she wouldn't let me," he chuckles with a little shrug before pausing for a moment and reaching up high for the little package of flirting fancies.

"Make any man fall at your feet with these, just one bite and they'll be smitten," he says, handing the neatly wrapped box to Val.

"Think you might have accidentally ingested one," she mutters, just quiet enough for only you to hear and covering it with a smile as she looks over the box. You subtly nudge her and she relents, but not before shooting you a wicked look.

"Anything you want, on the house," George smiles, flashing you one last look before rolling away and starting anew with his next customer.

"Right tell me honestly, how many of these have you given him?"

"Val! I told you we're friends," you say with a roll of your eyes.

"You might want to tell him that," she quips, nodding her head towards the space behind you. As soon as you turn, you're met with the rather solid chest of Fred Weasley.

"Ladies," he smirks with a dramatic bow of his head, his hand reaching up to touch your shoulder gently.

"You give all your customers this much attention?" Val asks with raised but playful brows, completely ignoring your glare.

"Only the prettiest ones," Fred replies, reaching out to grab the little pot beside the love potions. Val shoots you another knowing look with her eyes and you wordlessly tell her to shut up with your own, doubling down on the harsh glare.

"Kissing concoction," he says, holding up the little pot of almost clear liquid, "makes the drinker become longingly infatuated with the giver, just long enough to ensure only the best kisses will be shared. Made with real pearl dust as well."

"Maybe I could try it on you?" Val asks, suddenly getting flirty with Fred, "prove that it really works."

You don't miss the way his tongue slips out to meet his lips as he clears his throat, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably.

"No can do I'm afraid, store policy," he smirks, recovering quickly with the banter.

"But if y/n asked?" Val says sweetly, smiling devilishly between the two of you, making you have to fight to stop your eyes rolling at her insinuation.

"Well she is a valued customer," he says with a pause, pretending to think, finger tapping on his chin, "but rules are rules and who am I to ever break them?"

You can't help but snort out a little laugh, knowing exactly how Fred Weasley felt about rules but you don't say anything, knowing it would only fuel the fire. He looks at you with a teasing smirk but you look away, feeling Val's gaze flicking between the both of you.

"You're so oblivious aren't you," she says whilst walking around the shop, keeping the Pygmy puff she’d painstakingly picked out tucked protectively under one arm.

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning in her direction, pausing to grab a trick wand for your nephew from the basket near the till.

She shoots you a look, showing her disbelief, “let me think, they give you a discount, one of them has said in no complex way that you had beautiful eyes and perfect skin.”

“George was just,” you interrupt, only for her to look at you with a mild glare, not open to listening to your excuses.

“The other said he’d kiss you and that you were pretty, they clearly like you!”

“I just come in a lot, they’re good businessmen, you know flattery gets your everywhere right? You’re not gonna be rude to a valued customer,” you argue.

“You don’t have to be that friendly either,” she retorts with a sarcastic smile, checking out the pyro display in front of her, dropping the subject.

Your attention drifts away and you subtly turn to your left, feeling eyes upon you. There’s a brief moment where you realise that both Fred and George are watching you from the middle landing on the stairs, both leaning on the rail, before they notice that you’re watching them. As soon as you turn further, they instantly spring into action, pretending they weren’t watching you and spring into action helping the customers, almost comically so.

Your gaze shifts back to Val and you begin to wonder, could she be right?

[sailtomarina]

Here is Where I Want to Stay

“Fred, do you have a mo–”

Before you could finish your sentence, the office door crashed open with the arrival of his twin.

“We have a problem.”

The tone in George’s voice made it clear the problem needed immediate attention, and the two of you rushed out without hesitation. Fred squeezed your shoulder in passing, however, reassuring you that you’d find another time to speak.

Except, it seemed like everything and everyone was out to interfere. 

No matter the time or place, whenever you approached Fred, something would happen that would pull one or both of you away. Not even the shop closing gave you the privacy needed, as not even half an hour after locking the door and cleaning up, Ron clattered down the stairs trailing soot from the flat.

“G-Ginny! Th-the baby! It’s coming!” He gasped out the news and bent at the waist as he attempted to catch his breath.

George scrambled to join Ron as they ran back up, but Fred paused just long enough to throw you a look.

“What are you waiting for? Go! I’ll close shop.” You shooed him along with your hands, earning a grateful smile and wink.

“Thanks, love! We’ll chat later, yeah?”

Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the now quiet store. It felt strange to be the last one, despite having worked there for over a year now as you finished your Runes mastery.

What you didn’t expect was how fun each and every day was with the twins. They didn’t hesitate to pull you into product development and testing, and you found modern applications for runes that you never would have considered in the past. You were so invested in your projects with them, that you neglected your post-graduation job hunt as months passed you by. It was easy to forget about the outside world when working with the twins, especially Fred.

Fred, with his crooked grin and easy laugh. Fred’s eyes that sought you out without fail. He didn’t just look. He saw you with all your insecurities and curiosities and knew just what to say and do to fire you up. Everyday, you went back home alone, and everyday, you told yourself you’d tell him how he made you feel the next time you were alone together.

With a wave of your wand, the lights went out in the shop, but instead of leaving, you took one last look around. Just enough light from the street lamps outside streamed through the window to cast a glow over the polished wood shelves. Maybe it was time for you to bid farewell and move on.

 “You’re still here.”

You whirled around at the familiar voice, nearly crashing into his arms as they flew up to catch you. “Fred! What are you doing back already? What about Ginny?”

You felt as much as saw the quirk of his lips in the shadows. “She’s good, as is the baby. It’s a boy. They named him Albus.”

He had yet to drop his arms. They remained circled around you, hugging you close enough to breathe him in. Citrus, smoke, home. You felt faint. “Good. That’s good.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me all day?” His breath tickled your ear. 

You didn’t expect his face to be so close to yours when you turned to answer. He’d bent down towards you and now you hovered mere millimetres from one another. The air around you almost tripled in density, fighting your attempts to draw in one damn breath.

“I…” You stuttered to a stop, uncertain of how to phrase your longing.

“You?” His palms smoothed up your back to press you even closer.

“I want…”

How could you think with the way he brushed back a loose curl, or how he brought that same hand to the base of your neck, fingers threading into the strands and thumb rubbing circles against that sensitive spot behind your ear?

“What is it you want, love?” he murmured, lips nearly brushing your own.

“You.” The answer escaped before you could hold it back, rephrase it into something more eloquent.

His thumb stopped its circling and slid down to press upward against your jaw until your eyes met his. “That’s good.”

“It is?”

He hummed in assent. “Otherwise what I’m about to do would be very awkward.”

You had only a second to register the wicked grin that spread from cheek to cheek before you felt a yank to your navel. With a snap of his fingers, the lights turned on just enough for you to take in your surroundings. 

“Is this…your flat?”

You knew the answer before he even gave it; there was no questioning in whose room we stood. Those were Fred’s work boots next to the door, and there was his coat hanging on one of the hooks lining the wall. A small pile of books on Runes and Arithmancy sat on the nightstand of a bed made up in navy blue and cream.

“I didn’t bring you here under any pretence. I just wanted to give us a bit of light and privacy since George should be home soon.” 

“We could have walked up here,” you teased.

His cheeks turned a delightful pink. “I might have been showing off a bit.”

He barked out a laugh when you shoved him back onto the bed and he bounced in place.

“A bit? You cast those spells wandless and wordless.” 

Then you were on him, straddling his hips and tilting his face up towards your own. His reaction was instantaneous, hands grasping your hips and squeezing tight.

“I meant what I said. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” His hands said otherwise as they slid down to cup your bottom.

Riding high on the confidence you’d lacked earlier, you saw no further reason to hold back. “Well, with your permission, I intend to snog you breathless.”

You squealed at the sudden shift as he rolled you both over and caged you in place. “You have my whole-hearted permission.”

Except, it was him who dived into the kiss first, tasting of whatever sweet treat he’d had earlier. It was him who pulled back to gaze down at you with a soft smile. It was also him who confessed, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you like this for months now.”

“Well, why didn’t you?”

With a little laugh that you pocketed to cherish later, he admitted, “There always seemed to be something coming up: rampant Pygmy Puffs, rogue frisbees, the nonstop disaster that is my family–” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, the usually bright blue of his eyes darkening as he stared at you.

“What?” You couldn’t help but feel nervous at his continued silence.

“I’ve fantasised about us countless times, but to have you here with me still seems too good to be true. I’m going to wake up any minute now and find that this was all a dream.” He leaned forward, brushing past your cheek, to bury his face in the loose waves of your hair. A hand swiftly followed, burrowing and kneading and relaxing all the muscles in your body. “But this feels so real.” 

“That’s because it is real.” You cupped his cheek, thumb catching along the stubble lining his jaw, and brought him up to look at you. “I am here with you, and here is where I want to stay.”

So, you did.

WC 1242

Cross-posted on FB, Tumblr, and AO3.

4.18.24 Hump Day prompt: “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

More second-person POV. It's been fun writing reader insert, mostly because I get to imagine it's me experiencing these moments ;) I hope you don't mind!

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the same boys who shared a dormitory are now raising little humans. 

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading! 

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ              

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

・The Nurturing Dad™

・Always makes sure the baby has everything it wants and needs (always goes over the top.)

    “Harry she already has everything. Just sit down!” 

“But maybe she wants more binkies? Or another teddy? Babies love teddies-” 

・Because he was given very little in his childhood, Harry unconsciously experiences that type of love through his daughter

・You had to point it out to him a few days before her first birthday. Harry was going OVERBOARD. 

   “She won’t remember Harry, it’s okay.”

“I don’t care if she doesn’t remember. She deserves it anyway.”

・He hates hearing her cry. The Dursleys used to let him cry and cry when he was younger. So his baby self realised no one was coming when he cried - so he stopped

・So, he never wants that to happen to his baby girl. 

・Bought her a broom for her third birthday. It was only a toy one, barely hovering more than four feet in the air. But your little one loved it

・Molly and Arthur are referred to as Nanny and Poppy. Harry’s smile was ear to ear when Molly told him they wanted to be called that

    “You’re our son, Harry.” 

・Harry gets up in the middle of the night to check on her. He just loves looking at her in the doorway

𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

・The Interactive Dad™

・The first time you got pregnant, you were only expecting ONE baby. But lo-and-behold, two heartbeats were found on the monitor. 

・Ron nearly fainted

・Molly cried when you told her the news

・Ginny was ecstatic! So eager to be an Aunt. George was a bit hesitant, as well as distant when you told him. He didn’t want to be around the babies because he thought he’d give them some sort of darkness. 

・But as soon as they were born, George was in love with them and with being an Uncle.

・When you were in the hospital bed, exhausted but content, the Weasley’s found their way to your suite and Ginny was holding balloons

・ Molly cried again

・They two babies, a girl and a boy, had freckles but only one had red hair

・When George sat down and was given both babies to hold, you could see the change in him. 

     “He...he looks like Fred.” 

“We know. His names Fred, and the other is Georgina.” 

・During the birth, Ron was there the whole time. From beginning to end. He told you to squeeze his hand as much as you needed to

・Is a stay-at-home dad. When you go to work, Ron has the twins strapped to his front and back. 

      “Look who’s home!” He calls from the kitchen. The place is pretty messy, but he’s started on dinner. 

・The twins wear the beanies, scarves and jumpers that Nana Molly has knitted for them

・Georgina has a thing with biting though, and the first time she bit Ron he was ... kinda impressed

    “Honey at least we know she can defend herself-”

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦

・The Thoughtful & Affectionate Dad™

・His child is the light of his life. You couldn’t find a better father. 

・He’s patient, caring, level-headed and loving. 

・Makes the baby’s food, does bath time and changes nappies (probably changed more than you have. He always says “You carried him for nine months, ripped parts of yourself to birth him. The least I can do is change his nappies.) 

・He remembers your little boy’s favourite toy, colour, food and place. 

・Neville has a hard time leaving your son with anyone, or going somewhere else without him. He constantly sends messages and writes down detailed instructions on how to look after your baby

・Takes as many photos of your son as possible. Has a whole book of them already 

・Neville also shows anyone/everyone the photo he keeps in his pocket of you two. It’s of the first Christmas you had in your own home with your firstborn

・Isn’t afraid of showing your son affection. He’ll pepper kisses all over his face and it makes him giggle (the baby, well, Neville as well...)

・LOVES reading bedtime stories 

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

・The Providing Dad™

・You’re either a working mum or stay at home mum. Seamus is out during the week, working for the ministry

・He felt really bad in the beginning because your son wouldn’t recognise him. The hours were long, especially because the ministry was working overtime, trying to get the Wizarding World back into shape

・But with consistency, and patience, Seamus bonded with his son so strongly

・Seamus makes everyone feel safe at home. He locks all the doors and windows, and can be relied on for backup whenever it’s wanted 

・Did your son inherit the blowing things up gene? To your utter dismay. Yes. 

・Was a bit defensive when your son liked ‘girly’ things, but you explained gender norms and expression. When he saw how much your son found joy in dressing up or playing with dolls, he came round

・You dress your son in matching outfits with Seamus. You do it without telling him and see how long it takes for him to notice (he hasn’t noticed yet)

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

���The Cool Dad™

・Everyone wants to come around to your house because Dean is so friendly

・Dean actually loves going shopping for your daughter. He loves the little outfits, the pink onesies and tutus with matching fairy wings. 

・He’s great with sleepovers. They drive you insane, but he handles chaos so easily

・You asked him about it one day. 

   “How do you handle it, Dean? They’re so loud when they’re together! There’s so much mess too. God, I don’t want to ruin their fun but it’s driving me crazy!” 

       “I know, it’s okay sweetheart. I guess it doesn’t bother me because it doesn’t matter. And the mess, the noise, it’s all caused because they’re having fun.” 

  “You have a point. But you keep your calm with everything!” 

         “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The battle at Hogwarts changed me. Life is so fragile. Anything can mean nothing and everything - you just have to decide what’s important and what isn’t.”

・Uses your daughter to flirt with you. He’ll send her in with a bunch of roses and says “these are from daddy” but she gets bored with it and drops them on the floor 

・DEFINITELY plays dress up and has a favourite princess crown

[writerscafehub]

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑❜𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

/) /)

( • ༝•)

c /づ づ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 all the works made by the very talented members of the writer's café server in the month of JUNE. we ask, and highly encourage, that you reblog them in support. ♡

ALL WORKS ARE FOR THOSE 18+ ONLY.

𖥔 indicates smut

✶ indicates dark elements

By ☁︎☽ Cocoa ☁︎☽ @cocoamoonmalfoy @darksideofthecocoamoon

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 | Novacane!Michelle Jones x black!Reader

You say space will make it better and time will make it heal.  I won't be lost forever and soon I wouldn't feel.  Like I'm haunted, woah, falling

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 | Life’s Perfect Ache!Paul Atreides x Pharao Hekau (OFC)

Please call me your baby, baby, baby.  Look how long that you have kept me waiting.  I'm all in, look at all that I have given.  Ooh, I knew your love before I kissed you.  And now you’ve only made me miss you.  Come get me, come love me, baby, come love me.

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 | Paul Atreides x black!Reader

Are you with me?  Are you in or are you out?

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑 | Eivor Varinsdóttir x black!reader

you’re out on a date with Eivor and a guy sends you a drink thinking yall are just gal pals

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 | Michelle Jones x Black Cat!Reader

MJ only knows you as Black Cat. When she doesn't hear from you for weeks and hears from Peter that he’s been with Black Cat a lot lately, she can only assume….

By ★ Jen ★ @jen-with-a-pen

𖥔 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐍 | Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

A chance encounter one night at a house party sparks the hottest hookup Bucky and Steve ever have.

By ☆ Stella ☆ @a-lumos-in-the-nox

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀

✶𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐘 & 𝐇𝐄𝐋��𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 | Fred Weasley x black!fem reader

Villainous duo doing bad shit.

𖥔𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 | Neville Longbottom x black!female OC

The Morgan's take their kids to a family reunion in Louisiana to celebrate Mama Gene's Birthday, and Ruby and Neville have some fun themselves.

By 𓆺 Witch Aunt 𓆺 @moonlight-prose

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀

By ✬ Astro ✬ @eulalielatibule

𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐆𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐘 

Original Character Bio

By ⎈ Navy ⎈ @navybrat817

✶𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 | Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Chapter Summary: You're anxious before your date.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 | Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy.

✶𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 | Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.

By ❥ Courtney ❥ @chasingmidnights

𖥔𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 | camp owner!Max Burnett x secretary!reader

Max comes to the camp to see how things are going, when he meets you, one of the newest secretaries to join the staff. Max is immediately smitten with you and wants to make you his. 

By ✾ Annie ✾ @nekoannie-chan

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 | Steve Rogers x reader

Steve broke your heart

By ✧Bella✧ @madwomansapologist

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 - 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | Thranduil x female!reader

Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

By ఌ Bam Bam ఌ @buzzkillers

✶𝐅𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 | Namor x fem!reader

namor comes to the call

By 𓆸 Rika 𓆸 @fushic0re

𖥔𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 | Choso Kamo x fem!reader

what it is like to date the choso kamo.

© all works belong to the respective writers of the writers café server.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

tale as old as time || Fred Weasley

Title: tale as old as time Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: Y/N knows she’s the problem, and she’s afraid of the day Fred realizes it too Warnings: probably a very bad representation of what therapy is like but whatever im a writer not a clinical psychologist. A/N: im back baby!!!! im going to be totally honest, this is the only fic in the anthology where i really struggled to come up with a basic concept for the storyline when I was brainstorming. The lyrics in this song are less direct in what their meaning is in a lot of ways. Obviously the overarching message is this fear of being alone, this fear that your insecurities and anxieties will drive away the person you love the most, so that’s really what i tried to focus on here. 

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

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s just a dream,” Fred soothes as he strokes Y/N’s hair, letting her burrow her face in his chest. 

She takes a shuddering breath in, tears leaking down the sides of her face as her heart pounds in her chest. Y/N racks her brain, trying desperately to remember what exactly scared her so much. What happened in her dream that had her waking up in screams once again.

The dream is never the same. Sometimes she’s at Hogwarts, the final battle of the war raging on around her as she runs. Running, running, running - but she never stops, and Y/N is never quite sure what she’s running from. Other times she’s in the living room of her and Fred's flat, heart pounding in her chest as she tears the place apart searching for something. Though it’s never really clear what exactly she’s looking for. 

Then at some point they shift, and she’s in a dark room where the only sound is her heavy breathing. But she can feel something looking at her, looming somewhere in the shadows. And as she turns in circles trying to find it the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, the feeling getting closer and closer and closer. 

And that’s usually when she wakes. A scream caught in her throat as she shoots up in bed, frantically thrashing to try and fight off the unknown creature. That’s usually when Fred wakes up, strong arms wrapping around Y/N as he murmurs soft words into her ears. He holds her as she comes to, letting her cry in his embrace for as long as she needs. 

Fred always makes sure to reassure Y/N, reminding her that it’s just a dream, and that he’s got her. He holds her tight once she’s calm enough to try and fall back asleep, not daring to shut his eyes until she’s back in a deep slumber. 

Though what Fred doesn’t know is that sometimes Y/N isn’t asleep at all. She knows he worries, so she shuts her eyes and slows down her breathing, pretending to sleep as her mind races. Because she knows Fred can only put up with so much, that eventually he’ll be tired of her and all of her problems. That one day she’ll wake up and he won’t be there. 

Fred doesn’t know that those are the dreams that scare Y/N the most. 

-

“And what do you think those dreams mean, hm?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as her therapist asks the same question he does at every session. Therapy was something a lot of Wizards and Witches enrolled in after the war. Even those that didn’t actively fight sought treatment, finding it helpful to talk to someone about what happened and how to deal with the fallout. But now, almost two years out from the final battle at Hogwarts, Y/N feels like she’s getting nowhere.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me?” she responds, annoyance apparent in her tone. “That’s why I’m here, right? So you can tell me what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.”

Her therapist gives her an amused look. “Sure, I can tell you what’s wrong with you. But if you’re not ready to hear what I have to say, nothing is going to change. It has to come from you, not me.”

Y/N scoffs, shaking her head. “So then what am I paying you for then? If my breakthrough depends on me, it seems like you’re not really needed in all of this.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” her therapist starts, scribbling something down in his notebook. “But I’m here to listen, offer guidance when you need it. And when you finally hit that big breakthrough I’ll be here to help you through it.”

 When Y/N seems to settle back down her therapist continues. “So those dreams, what do you think they mean?”

Y/N shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “I don’t know - that I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He prompts, giving her an encouraging nod. “Afraid of Voldemort?” When she doesn’t respond he continues. “Afraid of dying?” When Y/N shakes her head he scribbles something down. “Afraid of what, then?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N answers honestly. “There’s never anything in the dreams. Just a feeling. Like something is watching me, I don’t know it’s hard to explain. It’s not a real threat, it’s like the idea of a threat.”

“So what might that mean?” Her therapist prompts when she stops, leaning forward in his seat. “You’re by yourself, facing an invisible threat - what is it that you’re really afraid of? It’s not the thing lurking in the dark - so what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N repeats again, voice firm.

“Yes you do,” he insists. “You do know what it is, Y/N, you just don’t want to admit it.”

“No, I really don’t,” she pushes back. 

“Yes, you do. You’re standing, in a room, all by yourself. No one but you and some invisible threat. It’s not the threat you’re afraid of - so what is it?”

“Being alone!” Y/N finally admits, anger coating her words. “I’m afraid of being alone, are you happy?”

Her therapist settles back in his seat, a grin etched on his features. “Now that’s what I call a breakthrough.” 

-

The revelation in therapy leaves Y/N feeling quite raw and exposed for the rest of the day, making her quiet and reserved. Fred of course doesn’t push or pry, letting her have the space she needs. Which in turn only makes Y/N feel even worse, her mind working overtime as she worries that her quiet and aloof behavior is only going to push Fred even further away than her nightmares. 

She’s terrified of falling asleep that night, so she simply lays in bed until Fred falls asleep - waiting for his soft snores to fill the room so she knows it’s safe. Y/N ends up creeping out into the living room, letting her exhausted body sink into the sofa. She doesn’t bother with the big light, instead snapping her fingers so a few of the lamps in the room come to life, giving everything a soft glow. 

But the lack of light also creates shadows, and she can feel her paranoia start to creep up the back of her neck. So Y/N does what her therapist had suggested towards the end of their session. She closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths, trying to remind herself that nothing is there and Fred is only a room away. Her sweet, sweet Fred that would do anything to make sure she’s okay. 

In fact, it had been Fred who suggested therapy all those months ago. When Y/N’s assurances that the dreams would go away on their own started to sound less and less believable and the bags under her eyes were deeper and darker than the night sky. It only made her love him more, knowing that Fred was looking out for her wellbeing and that he worried for her. 

Now it only seems to fuel her fears, that the therapy not working is just another thing that is going to have Fred walking out on her. 

“Stop, stop,” Y/N grumbles, palm smacking her forehead in frustration. “If only I could get my brain to shut the fuck up.”

“Baby?” 

Fred’s sleepy grumble startles Y/N, and she looks over her shoulder to find Fred standing at the entrance to the living room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/N apologizes, stomach sinking. She swallows thickly, her throat suddenly dry as shame washes over her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Fred shuffles towards the couch, mouth opening in a yawn. “No baby, you’re okay. I rolled over and couldn’t find you is all. I tried to fall back asleep but the bed was too lonely without you.” He joins her on the couch then, grabbing a blanket from their basket so he can drape it over them. 

Y/N lets Fred pull her into his side, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes again, though she’s not really sure what for. Maybe for leaving him alone in bed, or for making him come out here, maybe even for being a shitty girlfriend who constantly needs the reassurance that he’s going to be there for her. 

Mainly for that last one. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Fred promises, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay to need time for you, love. I know therapy days aren’t always your best days and you find it hard to fall asleep after. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Her chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open, all of her worries and fears and anxieties on display for Fred. She knows it must be exhausting for him, always having to deal with her and her constant reassurance that everything is okay. And yet at the same time Y/N needs that validation, almost needs it more than her lungs need air. 

Hence the trouble sleeping. 

It’s that need that prompts her to keep her eyes downcast, voice only above a whisper as she asks, “Promise?” She needs to know that he really means what he says. That he’ll always be there for her, no matter how weird or crazy or anxious she may be. 

“Promise,” Fred confirms. “You’re stuck with me forever, I’m afraid.”

“Forever,” Y/N whispers to herself, needing that extra reassurance. Forever.

-

“Godric, what the hell is wrong with me?” 

It’s a question Y/N has asked herself a lot over the past few weeks, but this is the first time she’s said it out loud in front of someone else. This is the fifth night in a row she’s woken up screaming, thrashing against the bed sheets as she tries to fight off her invisible attacker. 

Fred had tried to comfort her as usual, but this dream was a particularly vivid one, and Y/N had a hard time deciphering between what was real and what was her dream as she balanced in the no man’s land between being unconscious and awake - causing her to punch Fred right in the face as he tried to wrap her up in his arms. 

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Fred assures, the sound of his voice distorted from the bag of peas he’s holding on his face. “You thought you were still asleep, it happens, love.”

His chest is covered in blood from how his nose gushed after Y/N’s strike, and her stomach is a pit of self loathing. She’d been the one to hit him, and yet as per usual Fred was the one doing all of the comforting. It’s pathetic. 

“I made you bleed, Fred. There certainly is something wrong with me,” Y/N insists, nervous energy making her start to pace back and forth. “I’m 23 years old and I wake up screaming more nights than I don’t, and instead of being a normal person and thanking my boyfriend for being a lovely person and comforting me, I sock him in the face and break his nose.”

“Bruised maybe, love, don’t give yourself too much credit,” Fred jokes with a chuckle, desperately trying to cut the tension in the room. When Y/N just continues to pace he lets out a sigh. “Baby, stop, please. I’m fine, it was an accident. It’s not something to get worked up over.”

“But it’s not just this one incident,” Y/N starts, finally stopping her  pacing so she can face her boyfriend. “I’ve been having nightmares almost every night for two years now and therapy seems to be doing fuck all to help stop them. And despite the fact that you have been the most supportive, lovely boyfriend anyone can ask for, I'm just getting worse and worse.”

She pauses to run a ragged hand through her hair, exhaling sharply in frustration. “And I know deep down that someday you’re going to get sick of me and just leave and I don’t blame you, I really don’t. But the thought of not having you around scares the shit out of me and no matter how hard I try to be a better, more normal person for you I just can’t get my fucking shit together which just makes me even more panicked and worried and anxious, which just makes the nightmares worse and it’s a neverending cycle and I’m exhausted.”

Fred is silent for a minute, letting everything Y/N has just word-vomited all over their kitchen floor sink in. He tosses the peas onto the table, standing up so he can start to slowly approach her. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me? I thought your nightmares were about the war, love, I had no idea.”

“They were, at first,” Y/N admits. “Mostly about when the wall fell and it almost crushed you. They were all about you dying and me being alone. But then as time went on and the anxiety got worse they sort of just changed. Instead of me watching you die and leave me, I was just there, alone and fighting some kind of invisible threat. And I’d try to run, try to find you and I would just be running endlessly and whatever it was that was there would catch me - that’s usually when I’d wake up screaming.”

She swallows around the lump in her throat as Fred comes closer, putting a hand out to stop him from gathering her in his arms. This is something she needs to say, and the moment Fred puts his hands on her all of her courage will melt away. 

“And I know that it’s not easy for you to deal with all of this,” she continues once his hands are at his sides. “I can see how exhausted you are in the mornings after I have a nightmare. And I can see the worry on your face when I come home from therapy when I’ve had a bad day. It’s hard for me to deal with all of this, so I know it’s hard for you too. It would be so easy for you to just walk away from all of it, from me. You don’t deserve to be burdened with all of my problems, but the thought of losing you makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Baby,” Fred coos, fists clenched to resist his urge to reach out and comfort the woman he loves. “Burden me, please. I mean it when I tell you that I’m here for you no matter what. Woman there’s nothing in this world you could ask for that I wouldn’t find a way to make happen. That’s what people who love each other do, yeah? They support each other no matter what.”

“And of course I worry about you, because I care about you and I hate to see you hurting. But that doesn’t make me want to leave, it makes me want to stick around. To be there for you in any way you may need. Even if that means letting you punch me in the face every once in a while.”

Fred takes the breathy laugh that Y/N lets out as permission to step closer, and when she doesn’t protest he wraps his arms around her waist. “You have me, Y/N. Anxiety, and nightmares and all. You’re my everything, and I am going to be here with you every step of the way.”

“Even if the nightmares never go away?” she asks timidly. 

“Even if the nightmares never go away,” Fred confirms, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead.  

When they end up back in bed together later that night, Y/N’s tears dry and Fred’s chest free of his blood, she lets herself be wrapped up in Fred’s embrace. And as his breath starts to even out she finds her eyes fluttering shut for real. Y/N lets sleep consume her, no longer feeling the need to pretend to be okay. Because she’s not okay, not really. 

But she will be, someday. With Fred by her side, anything is possible.

[tokiwayami]

George Weasley & OC