#Weasley Week

[ashesandhackles]

Ghosts

Written something for both Day 1 of #Weasley Week by @thethreebroomsticksfic and @harrypocter Colours of Autumn.

When The Burrow is empty, Molly feels all the catches and spasms of an overworked back. It's the age catching up to her, she thinks. It's the age that makes her feel the bone chill during Christmas, huddling under the protection of her own Weasley jumper. She clutches at her own jumper, the living tissue that connects her to her children. She imagines them wearing it, she imagines the slices of life they have built outside the Burrow, she imagines the conversations around their dinner table.

Fred is the only one she doesn't have to imagine. He is here, within her reach. I wish they were here, she tells him as she climbs up the stairs. She feels him behind her, helping her tired body up.

I thought George would come, he complains to her. Angelina's monopolising him.

She smiles.

She settles into her own bed and lies under her blankets, her spine curving into a mouth of longing. She feels him above her, watching her from the ceiling. The world goes on, she tells him. Even when it seems impossible.

Isn't that what Bill said? Fred asks.

That is what he said, Molly's eyes flutter close. Of course, her wisest son would have all the answers. She wishes she could grasp at her eldest son's unshakeable heart and swallow it back into herself. But if she did that...

She opens her eyes. Still here, Freddie?

Still here Mum. Go back to sleep. Dad will be late today, remember?

#molly weasley #weasley week #fred weasley #grief #colours of autumn

[the-al-chemist]

Jitters

So, it’s almost a week late, but I was told that Weasley Week is more about vibes than punctuality. Here’s the final contribution, and this one’s all about Ginny. Thank you @thethreebroomsticksfic for organising such a fun event!

Warnings: mentions of past trauma.

September 2003

Ginny Weasley prided herself on being fiercely independent. Being the only girl in a family of boys, she had learnt to take care of herself and others in a way that her brothers had never been encouraged to. And being the youngest, she had watched each of her older siblings leave home, go to school, and embark on careers, leaving her behind, a little more alone every time.

There was, of course, one time she had allowed herself to become truly vulnerable, to rely on someone else. It had backfired terribly. Ginny had been eleven years old when she had first opened Tom Riddle’s diary. She had been eleven years old when she had stopped trusting anyone, even herself.

That trust had come back, bit by bit. She had made friends, eventually. She had gone on dates, had been heartbroken, had battled, had grieved. She had carved out a career for herself, made a name for herself, had finally gotten to know herself and trust herself again.

So why, on what should have been the happiest day of her life, was she doubting herself?

She loved Harry. She had always loved Harry, even when her definition of love had been a schoolgirl’s infatuation. He made her happy, understood her in a way few others did, and loved her in spite of that. When he had asked her to marry him, her answer had come as swift and as sure as she was on a broomstick.

Right now, she was less sure. Which was unfortunate, because right now, there were only minutes to go before she was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry the wizard.

In moments like this, Ginny preferred to be alone. Declining her bridesmaids’ offers to help her with her dress, she backed out of the vestry and headed for the bathroom, where she stood facing a mirror and holding on to the edges of a sink. Her head was spinning, her heart racing, and her stomach churning. She felt unbearably hot, though the room was cold. She took several breaths, annoyed by how shallow each one was, and found that this was useless. In a final desperate attempt to cool herself down, she turned on the tap and let the water run over her hands before splashing it onto her face.

That was a mistake. Now she had yet another thing to worry about. Her make-up, which she had painstakingly spent the morning doing — she hadn’t permitted anyone else to do it for her — was now entirely ruined. And, even worse, she had left all of her belongings back at the Burrow, not thinking that she would need them over the course of the ceremony. All she could do was try to clean up the mess she had made of her own face.

As she used her wand to remove the smudges from her cheeks, a toilet flushed behind her and a beautiful woman and small girl, both with the same shade of silvery-blonde hair, emerged from a cubicle. Ginny forced a smile as the woman helped the little girl to wash her hands in another of the sinks. Her niece looked particularly cute in her bridesmaid dress, but there was no one she wanted to speak to less at this moment in time than her sister-in-law.

Fleur Delacour-Weasley eyed Ginny over the top of her daughter's blonde head for a few moments before telling her, “I ‘ave makeup in my bag, if you would like some.”

Ginny couldn’t see that she had much choice but to take Fleur up on her offer, so she nodded. Her sister-in-law passed her a dainty clutch bag, which on opening, Ginny found to be far bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside.

“Va chercher ton grand-père, Victoire.” Fleur placed one hand on the back of her daughter’s head and stroked her hair gently as she spoke, and Ginny’s niece skipped out of the bathroom with her clean hands. Ginny expected Fleur to follow Victoire, but instead she turned back towards her and asked, “Would you like some ‘elp with zat?”

“I can do it myself, thanks,” Ginny replied, but her hands were shaking so badly that she was struggling to do anything by herself.

Fleur stood stock still, watching her as she tried and failed to wield mascara with any form of precision. Ginny was growing increasingly impatient and frustrated with herself, with Fleur, with everything. Eventually, she held out Fleur’s bag at arm length and snapped:

“Fine, you do it then, if you think you can do better than me!” Her sister-in-law blinked at her slowly, her lips pursed, and Ginny sighed. “I mean, yes, I’d like some help. Please can you help me?”

Her tone hadn’t been friendly in the slightest. Fleur shrugged and took back her bag.

“Close your eyes,” she told Ginny, who did as she instructed. A soft brush swept over Ginny’s cheeks, and Fleur’s voice spoke to her. “Victoire ‘as freckles like you now. ‘Ave you noticed?”

“No.”

“Zey look quite cute, I zink. A proper Weasley, no? It is a shame zat I’m covering yours up.”

“Yeah, well.” Ginny swallowed. “I’m not going to be a Weasley for much longer. Might as well get rid of the freckles while I’m at it.”

She sounded far more bitter than she intended. She could not see Fleur’s face, but by the way her sister-in-law continued to work on her face, she supposed that she might not have noticed.

“And ‘ow are you feeling about today?”

“Great, obviously. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it is a big change,” Fleur said. “And because you are in ‘ere splashing water on your face when you should be about to walk down the aisle.” Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything, Fleur instructed, “Open your eyes and look up at the ceiling.”

It was hard to focus her eyes. Ginny could almost feel them filling with tears as Fleur applied mascara to her lashes.

“How did you feel on your wedding day?” Ginny asked Fleur, trying her hardest not to either cry or blink.

“Probably the same as you. ‘Appy, but also a little nervous.”

Ginny looked down from the ceiling and at her sister-in-law. “Really?”

“Yes. I wanted ze day to be perfect, and zere was a war going on, so…”

“So, you weren’t nervous about actually getting married? You didn’t have any… second thoughts or anything?”

Fleur seemed to consider Ginny’s question. When she answered, she did so with a small and almost secretive looking smile:

“Yes.”

“You did?” Ginny was relieved, for some reason. “What about?”

“What are your second thoughts about?” Fleur asked. Ginny sighed.

“I dunno, I just… I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am, Quidditch-wise. I’m worried that once I’m married, no one will care that I’ve done that, they’ll just think of me as Harry’s wife and not my own person, because I won’t be, will I? I’ll be Mrs Potter, not Ginny Weasley, not… Not me.”

Ginny cast a look at herself in the mirror. She never usually wore white, it was too easily dirtied, and she couldn’t remember the last time her hair had been restrained in such an intricate up-do. Even her freckles had been covered with makeup. She scowled at her own reflection.

“I already don’t look like me,” she muttered. “What’s to stop me from just slowly disappearing altogether?”

“I cannot imagine zat will ever ‘appen.”

“It almost did, once,” said Ginny. Fleur was looking at her, and she avoided meeting her eye. “Back when I was younger, that year… That diary, his diary… I put so much of myself into it, I poured myself into it, and before I knew it, there was almost none of me left. I was nearly lost forever, and I…” Her voice tailed off. “I don’t want to lose myself, not ever, not to anyone or for anything.”

Fleur put one hand to Ginny’s hair. For a moment, Ginny thought she might stroke it, the way she had Victoire’s, but instead, she reached back and undid one of the clips. A strand of Ginny’s hair came loose.

“I can see zis,” Fleur said, reaching for another hairclip, “but I don’t zink it is something you need to worry about. Zat diary, it was evil. It wanted you to lose yourself. ‘Arry would never want zat for you, ‘e just wants you, as you are. It is all ‘e ever wanted.”

Ginny took a deep breath. Yet more locks of her hair tumbled around her shoulders as more clips were removed, and Fleur continued:

“Getting married, it does not mean zat you are losing yourself. You are gaining another piece for yourself, making a family zat is yours and someone else’s. It means you ‘ave to share, but you must be used to sharing, with all those brothers you ‘ave.” She chuckled softly, and Ginny felt her own lips twitch. It was true, she was used to sharing. “The only piece of yourself you are giving up is your name, which you don’t ‘ave to do. And zat was ever really your name, either. It is all your family’s name, no? And even if you don’t have zeir name, you are not going to lose your family. Especially your family. You are all very stubborn.”

In spite of everything, in spite of herself, Ginny laughed out loud. Fleur smiled triumphantly and nodded her head at the mirror.

“See? You look more like yourself now.”

Fleur was right. Ginny’s hair was now almost entirely loose, a mane of red curls framing her face. Her freckles were still invisible, but her laugh had caused her cheeks to dimple and her brown eyes to shine with mirth.

Thinking about it, Fleur was right about a lot of things. Harry was not Tom Riddle. He had nothing of Tom Riddle about him, not anymore. And even when he had, he had never once allowed it to consume him, not the way the diary had consumed her. He had never wanted anything from Ginny, except for her to be… well, Ginny. Not Ginny Weasley, not Ginny Potter, just Ginny. In all the time she had been making a name for herself, Harry had accepted her and loved her for herself.

And she loved him. Had accepted him, the way her family had accepted him as one of their own. He might not have their name, but he was still a part of them. She would still be a part of them, even if she didn’t have their name anymore. She wouldn’t lose them.

Harry had lost his family. All he had left of them was their name, the one that was written on a pair of tombstones in the graveyard behind the church in which she stood, where he was standing at the altar waiting for her. Waiting to begin their life together, to share that life together.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, and Ginny’s father’s voice sounded from the other side of it.

“It’s eleven, Ginny. Are you ready?”

Ginny glanced at Fleur, and again at the bathroom mirror, where her own face stared back at her, defiant and stubborn and entirely her own.

“I’m ready.”

#weasley week #ttb #ginny weasley #fleur delacour #weasley family #hinny wedding

[hinnyfied]

Sister

A truly micro microfic or @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week!

Prompt: Bill

Bill loved his brothers, fiercely so. He was their protector, their confidant, their supporter. One of his earliest recollections was promising his father he would be a good big brother to them, and for all of his days, even as he had children, grandchildren, even great-grandchildren of his own, he upheld that promise.

Yes, Bill Weasley cherished his brothers.

But on that fateful day in August of ‘81, he followed his father up to his parents’ bedroom to meet the new baby. His one and only sister was placed in his arms, her name spoken aloud to him for the very first time, and he knew, somewhere deep in his core.

She would be his very best friend.

#WeasleyWeek #Weasley Week #TTB #harry potter #bill weasley #ginny weasley #hp microfic

[witchofimber]

Hey, for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week I decided to write the most angsty shit possible for Molly Weasley. Below is a preview, rest of the work is on AO3.

Trigger Warnings: Postpartum depression (including intrusive thoughts about harm coming to a baby), complex family relationships, grief, surgery mention, smoking.

“When I became a mom, no one ever said, ‘Hey, you made a death today. You made your children’s deaths.’ Meanwhile, I could think of little else.” - Samantha Hunt 

Families have mythologies. There are stories that Molly’s children pass around like calling cards, touchstones. Ron stealing that car, Fred’s first word being “George” and George’s first word being “No.” The fact that Percy was the only baby born exactly on his due date, contractions starting right at five as if he’d politely waited for the end of business hours. How Ginny, Charlie and Bill came early, but Ron and the twins came late. How Charlie’s labour was only eight minutes, and Bill’s was nearly forty hours. As if the circumstances of birth would press into her children like wax. See? I knew who you’d be even then. I knew you right from the start. You were always going to be this person. 

Here’s something that she doesn’t tell her children: that for almost every second of those forty hours of labour, nineteen and terrified, she wanted to die. She begged for it. She begged for Arthur, for her brothers, for her mother. She begged the doctor to cut her open. Hour thirty-five, thrashing on the table - just cut it out! Cut it out cut it out get it out of me! 

If there’s a shape of his birth in Bill, it’s made of agony. 

---

When she thinks of those first few years of Bill, when she was still half a child and yet somehow a mother - 

Well, mostly she doesn’t think of them. There’s really no reason to, not anymore.

But if she were to - 

Arthur was working long hours. He had to, of course - junior ministry salaries weren’t meant to support a family. Overtime was the only thing that was keeping them fed. And he was such a good father when he was home. Not a word of complaint, not a hint that he was tired. Go to sleep, love, you need a nap. I’ll look after my little Bill. 

It was that possessive my that made Molly dig her fingernails into her palms. 

Oldest sons always belong to their fathers, don’t they? Arthur would bounce Bill on his knee and says he could be an auror, he could be minister, he could be a curse-breaker - all these grand futures he didn’t get to have himself, poured into the body of his son. 

Molly looked at Bill’s chubby face and thought he could be charging into the line of fire, he could be the target of an assassination, he could die alone on the floor of a dusty vault. She fed Bill in the kitchen and thought about all the knives around them, the kettle sitting full and hot like a taunt. She bathed him with her heart in her throat, barely blinking. She was constantly aware of all the things that could hurt him, including herself. After all, she didn’t love the baby. 

At forty-six, she knows now that this kind of obsessive fear was love - love done poorly, love swallowed by self-loathing, a conviction that Bill knew she wasn’t good enough for him. At twenty she would lie awake at night, thinking of all the things she’d done wrong and pinching the inside of her wrist. 

---

One week after the end of the war, and Ginny is the only child still in the house. Molly thought, automatically, that the whole brood would fly home to her. In the summer, when her children were still children, she would stand at the twilight doorway with a sonorous to her throat and watch them race across the meadows towards her, the kitchen windows their lighthouse across a sea of dark. Tall, rangy Bill herding Fred and George, Ron and Ginny chasing each other in squabbling circles, Percy with a mouth already full of complaints and accusations, Charlie loping slowly, always last. But Bill is with his own family now. Charlie is in Romania. Percy writes her fearful owls and avoids his father’s gaze. George is apparently drunk in the flats of various friends. Ron bounces between George and Harry, trying to watch over them, flooing back home to grab soup and hangover potion. So only Ginny - her much-loved girl, her longed-for daughter, her baby - is in the house, and that fact should not fill Molly with dread. 

Ginny has recently adopted a sort of omni-benevolent glow towards Molly, a tacit acknowledgement that she forgives her mother everything. Molly can’t be too angry about this. She did the same to her own mother. 

One night, passing the washing up silently between them, Molly says, “You know - dearest - if you were pregnant, I would be there for you.” 

“What? Mum, I’m not pregnant. I’m not even - no.” 

“I - good, that’s good, but - you know, whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’ll be there for you. I’ll never abandon you.” 

“Ok.” Ginny shoots her a half-amused glance under her eyelashes. “Is this you angling for grandbabies? Because, like, I’m pretty sure I’m last in the queue for that.” 

Some days Molly cannot remember why she ever wanted a daughter so desperately. It’s just another set of fears. 

---

Charlie appeared like a miracle or a Muggle magic trick. Step right up, see the lady step into the Ministry elevator! Watch her as the doors close - do you see her put her hand on her stomach? That faint frown? And now, on the ground floor the doors open and - ta dah! A baby! 

(And blood, of course, and two very shocked aurors. And Molly sitting half-naked on the floor of the lift, staring at Charlie in her arms. Too confused to be anything else. What are you doing here? she’d asked Charlie with her eyes, and he’d stared back - I don’t know, what am I doing here?) 

When Charlie was eight, they’d lost him. She remembers standing at the kitchen door, all her other children crowded around her, as she called his name over and over again. Thinking, stupidly, don’t let your voice crack, you’ll scare the children. Arthur and Bill had gone out with lanterns, searching down creeks and up dale, their voices getting further and further away until they disappeared under evening birdsong. And finally, at midnight, Charlie had emerged from the trees - right next to the house, he’d only been hiding in the branches. He must have heard her calling. 

She floocalls him at four, which is six for him. She knows the time difference by heart. It’s a thought that hasn’t left her since Charlie moved away. She’ll be doing the last of the washing up at ten, thinking about how Charlie is probably getting his last drink of the night in. She’ll roll over on a sleepless night to see it’s three am and know that thousands of miles and two hours away, Charlie is just beginning to get up. She is so used to Charlie’s hand on the clock pointing at work that it has become invisible. 

“How’s things?” says Charlie, no hello. 

“Good,” says Molly automatically, then - “Well. No.” 

“No, yeah. No.”

“How are the dragons?” 

Molly knows a lot about dragons now. She reads books on them when she has the time, asks Hermione questions, idly browses through Ron’s Care of Magical Creatures textbooks. She is aware, in a way that makes her prickle with guilt, that she does this so she has something to talk to Charlie about. 

“Good. Well, Andrei has this bonkers idea that he won’t let go of - there’s only one Welsh Green stud left in Eastern Europe, so he’s talking about trying to crossbreed…” 

He rattles on. Molly listens, nods, asks thoughtful questions. At the end, he says - “And… well… the political situation.” 

“Oh?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You could come back - “ Home - “here.” 

Charlie snorts. “Oh, yeah, Britain. Very politically stable at the moment.”

“We could be together again. As a family.” She doesn’t say your family needs you. She has finally learnt, after years of mistakes, that that’s not a lever that will ever work on Charlie. “I could take care of you.” 

“I’m fine, Mum.” 

“I know, but darling - “

“I just - I need to be here, you know? Or I - I can’t be there. I can’t come back.” 

When Charlie had emerged from the trees age eight, looking cold and distant, she’d grabbed him by the shoulders and nearly shaken him with the force of her love. Where were you? What were you doing? Didn’t you hear me calling? 

I did, he said, I just didn’t want to come in. 

But why didn’t you come back?

He’d stared at her, a little blankly. I told you. I didn’t want to come in. 

Read the rest here

#weasleyweek #weasley week #molly weasley #angst #hp fanfic #hp #WeasleyWeek

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

What Strange Creatures Brothers Are!

Yesss!! @thethreebroomsticksfic's #WEASLEYWEEK is here!! My first fic of the week is an ode to Molly and those annoying brothers that she loves so dearly.

Snippet:

'Besides, we heard that a certain someone was going to Hogsmeade with a certain Weasley,’ he sang. 

Bollocks, Molly thought, her ears turning hot as she looked back down at her essay. 'I don't know what you're talking about,’ she muttered.

'Oh really? Because we heard from quite a reliable source.'

‘Who?’ Molly exclaimed, earning some annoyed looks from the table next to them.

Gideon grinned, 'The man himself.'

#Weasley Week #Molly Weasley #Fabian Prewett #Gideon Prewett #a little bit of Arthur Weasley #sibling love #sibling arguments

[diana-bookfairchild]

For @thethreebroomsticksfic's Weasley Week!

until someday is an exploration of a Weasley Family heirloom and what it means to each member who gets it, and how it helps them with various emotions they struggle with.

Read it here!

#fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter #platonic relationships #weasley family #the three broomsticks #weasley week #ttb

[cloudybarnes]

bad idea right?

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: after theo breaks up with you, he pledges to make things right and do anything necessary to win you back. however, you are determined to make him work if he wants to win you over again aka part two to new beginnings

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

a/n: LONG AWAITED PART TWO WOOHOOOO also this could be read as a solo instead of a part two if you really wanted, but here's part one in case you wanna read that as well ;)

✰  ✰  ✰

“Please don’t tell me you got back together with him!” Ginny groaned. She sat on the edge of your bed as Hermione braided your hair for the night. 

“No, I didn’t get back with him. I told him if he really wanted to prove it to me, then he could.” 

“So you’re thinking of getting back with him.” She said disapprovingly. Hermione chuckled from her seat in the bed behind you. She was working on doing dutch braids in your hair. 

“I think it’s fine, Gin,” Hermione said. “It’s not as if she’s going to jump back in bed with him.”

You waggled your eyebrows teasingly to Ginny. She gasped and swatted your shoulder. “That’s so not funny, (Y/N/N). Just because you think he’s sexy doesn’t mean you should get back with him.”

Theodore broke up with you very unexpectedly. He barely even had a reason for breaking up with you, which left you heartbroken and devastated. You were in bed for a few days, had a good cry, and then you were back. 

Theo had tried to mend the broken bond between your relationship, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to take him back that easily. Your ego was high, and you knew you would be kicking yourself if something like that happened again right when you took him back. 

“Don’t worry, Ginny. If he really wants me back, he’s gonna have to work for it. He knows that.”

“Alright,” Hermione said as she tied off the end of your hair. “All finished. Your hair’s gonna look so good tomorrow.”

“Theo better be drooling when you see him,” Ginny said, “if not, I’ll give him a different reason to drool.” She made a motion of punching her fists together, insinuating she would punch him in the mouth. 

You chuckled. “Hopefully there won’t be any blood drawn. I don’t think he’d really wanna go through all the trouble if it just got him a busted lip.”

“Oh no,” Ginny grinned, “it would be more than just a busted lip. I’ve got five brothers, I’m known to throw a mean punch or two.”

“Lights out girls!” The prefect yelled as she knocked on your bedroom door. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you guys at breakfast. But for real, if Theo tries anything you know I’m right there for you.” 

You smiled, grateful to have a friend as awesome as her. “Yeah, Gin, I know. Thank you.” 

She smiled, “night guys.”

You two said your good nights as Hermione moved from your bed to her own. 

“What do you think he’ll do tomorrow?” You asked Hermione as she shut off the lights. You pulled the covers close to your body, waiting for her response. 

“I’m not sure,” she replied, getting comfy in her own bed. “Hopefully something sweet. He’s got a lot of making up to do if he wants to get back on our good side.”

You smiled softly, “yeah, you’re right. Night, ‘Mione.”

“Goodnight.”

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning at breakfast, the owl dropped a letter in front of you.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, his mouth filled with food. 

Ginny slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Honestly, you act like you were raised in a barn.”

“We were raised in the same house, you know.” He pointed. 

“What a shame that was,” she replied. 

You chuckled at their banter, and ripped open the seal on the letter. 

“What’s it say?” Hermione asked. 

You scanned over the words before you read them aloud. “It says,

(Y/N), 

I hope you know how much you mean to me. I was a fool to break things off with you. I only hope one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. 

Forever yours,

Theo”.

“Forever yours?” Ginny squealed. “That is so romantic.” 

Hermione raised her brow quizzically. “Weren’t you the one telling her not to get back with him?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I can have mixed feelings about this. He breaks her heart but then he writes her a love letter. It’s got me confused, okay?” 

You chuckled. “I think it’s cute. It’s not gonna win me back, but it was an alright effort.”

“Oooh, what a burn,” Harry chuckled. “Poor bloke must’ve forgot how stubborn you are.”

You shook your head with a smile, “nah, he didn’t forget. If I know anything about Theo, he’s just getting started.”

“So, (Y/N/N),” Ron said, “do you want to get back with him or what’s going on with this?”

You shrugged. “I mean, obviously I still love him. It just sucks what he did and I don’t think he should be able to get off the hook that easily. He shouldn’t be forgiven for breaking my heart just because he writes a little letter.”

“I love you for that,” Ginny said as she nodded her head. 

“Hey, (Y/N/N).”

Looking behind you, you could see Enzo give a sheepish smile and a small wave. 

You grinned, “Hey Enzo, how are you? Sorry about yesterday, by the way, Theo’s a little crazy sometimes.”

He chuckled and awkwardly rubbed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. But, yeah, no, Theo and I are all good. He apologized last night and told me all about his plans to woo you.”

You chuckled with a roll of your eyes. “Go figure.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “anyway, I just wanted to come by and resume how we were before, you know, the whole break up thing, and drop off this book I think you’ll like.” 

Enzo pulls out a book from his satchel and hands it to you. 

“Coraline?” You asked as you flip it around and skim over the synopsis. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of spooky and psychological which I think you’ll really enjoy.”

You grinned up at him, “that’s perfect. Thank you, Enzo.” 

He sent a tight lipped smile, and nodded before turning away and walking back to the slytherin table. 

“I like Enzo,” Ginny said with a dreamy look on her face. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Go get him then. He’s a sweetie.” 

“You guys and those Slytherin boys,” Ron shakes his head with a scoff. “Not even that cute, I’ll tell ya.”

“Oh, what?” Ginny asked sassily, “like you’re cute?”

“I think Ron’s cute,” Hermione winked at her boyfriend. 

“Ugh, barf,” Ginny said. 

The bell rang. You all stood to gather your things for first class. 

“We’ll see you guys later,” you smiled as Hermione and you walked out to your shared first class. 

“That was a pretty cute letter,” Hermione said as the two of you started walking down the hall. 

“Yeah, I think it was sweet, but like I said, he can’t win me back that eas-“

“Excuse me?” Someone tapped your shoulder. 

Stopping, you and Hermione turned to see a younger Slytherin boy, presumably a first year, standing before you. 

“Uh, yes?” You asked confused, “do you need help with something?”

“Um, Theodore says I have to carry your satchel and books for you.” The first year stood awkwardly. 

“Oh, uh, that’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You blushed, a little embarrassed that Theo would make a first year cater to you. 

“I have to.” He said adamantly. “Theodore said he’ll set me up with this hot girl I like if I carry your books for you.” 

Hermione snickered from next to you. You turned back to her, a bewildered smile on your face as you tried not to laugh.  

“Well,” you said as you handed the young boy your satchel. “I can’t be the one to stop your true love, now can I?”

The boy grinned as he held on to your satchel as well as his. 

“Theodore is crazy,” Hermione remarks as you continue walking to your next class. The boy followed behind the two of you all the way to your first period. 

As soon as your classroom came into view, you could see Theodore standing there with a bouquet of flowers in hand. He grinned a devilish thing as he saw you approach. 

“I’ll meet you in there,” Hermione said with a knowing smirk. 

You walked up to Theo. He was beautiful as ever, but even he knew that wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

“Hi (Y/N).” He smiled at you then turned to the kid. “I’ll take it from here. I’ll have my guys put in a good word with Maizy for you.”

The kid nodded his head and smiled as he ran off. 

Theo threw your satchel over his shoulder and held out the beautiful assortment of flowers towards you. “For you, to say I’m sorry for being a douchebag and an idiot and a stupid motherfucker. All in the words of Draco by the way. Never knew how much he liked us together.” 

You chuckled and grabbed the flowers out of Theo’s hand. “Thank you.”

He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, have you thought about what I said yesterday?” 

You sighed. “Of course I’ve thought about it Theo. Just like I’ve thought about how much you broke my heart when you dumped me.”

“Okay, I deserved that.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah. Thank you for the flowers, Theo. And… I still care about you, I just need time to figure this all out. I can’t just forgive you that fast when you broke my heart, just  last week!”

Theo sighed, “I know. I know! Fuck! I know I fucked up, baby, but I am going to do everything I can to win you back. I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes, baby, I swear it to do. The boys are down my back yelling at me for how hard I screwed everything up. They think I’m stupid, and I think I’m stupid too for letting you go. I promise you, I will do everything it takes for you to trust me again, mi amore.”

Your eyes softened. Theo knew exactly how to make your heart soar. 

“Theo…” 

“No, baby,” he shook his head. “You take your time. I’m gonna be here whenever you decide if you want to forgive me or not. Hopefully you decide you do want to forgive me.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

You matched his awkward laugh. “Well, thanks again for the flowers. They’re very pretty.” 

Theo smiled and nodded before turning around and walking away. 

✰  ✰  ✰

Later that night, you sat in the library studying for your Herbology final. Ginny and Hermione offered to help you study, but you knew you’d be here too late to want to burden them. 

As you flipped through the pages of your herbology book, you tried your best to take down any notes that you thought would be important. 

Your stomach growled. 

“Knew that was inevitable.” 

When you looked up from your textbook, you could see Theo sheepishly smiling as he held two trays from the cafeteria. 

“What was?” You asked with a smile. You cleared some papers to make space for Theo to sit down. 

He grinned and placed the trays on the table as he took his seat next to you. 

“Knew you would forget to eat while you studied for this exam.” 

You chuckled and peered over to see what Theo brought you to eat. Ham, potatoes, and stuffing from the dining hall. 

“Thank you, Theo. That’s really sweet of you.” 

He slid a tray closer to you, and you eagerly picked up the provided fork and dug in. 

Theo chuckled as you scarfed down your food. “Pretty hungry?”

You nodded as you finished chewing. Theo smiled to himself and started to take a few bites of his potatoes. 

“You’re being awfully sweet to me, Theo.” 

“Haven't I always been sweet to you, darling?”

“Well, yes. But that was before.”

Theo sighed. “I know I screwed up royally. I’m trying to make up for my mistakes. I’m still the same boy I was just a few months ago. I had a lapse in judgment and that cost me the best thing in my life.”

You frowned. “Theo…”

“Don’t you miss me, (Y/N/N)?” Theo shifted to face you straight on. He nervously leaned forward on the table, staring into your eyes, waiting for your response. 

“…of course I miss you, Theo. How could I not? You’re everything to me, and I’m just so scared of something like that happening again.”

“(Y/N),” Theo started. He tentatively grabbed your hands in his. “I promise you, with everything in me, if you decide to take me back I will never hurt you or disappoint you ever again. You have my word mi amore.” 

You were conflicted. You miss Theo like crazy. You couldn’t help it. No matter what you said to your friends about him having to work hard for you, it tore you apart every time you saw him knowing you still weren’t together. You missed being his. 

“Okay,” you said. 

“Okay?” Theo’s face lit up. “You-you’re giving me another chance?”

“Yeah,” you softly smiled, “I miss my boy.”

Theo grinned and yanked you toward him, engulfing you in a hug—one you’ve been waiting days for. You missed him. You missed being held by him. 

You held around his neck tightly, scared to let go. You never realize how much you craved his touch when it was gone.  

Theo buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

You smiled and pulled back. Theo smiled back at you. Slowly, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a warm, longing kiss. Your hands rested on his cheeks, his on your waist as you kissed with all the love stored up between you. 

When he pulled away, Theo stayed close with his forehead rested against yours. “I promise you baby, I’m here for good.” 

“You better be.” 

#I DID IT WOOHOO #now i'm gonna start working on the requests to the best of my ability #hope this lived up to the wait and thanks for putting up with me #its been a hell of a few weeks to say the least #i'm just glad things are getting back to normal and I can have some time to write again #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x y/n #harry potter #draco mafloy #draco malfoy x reader #theordore nott oneshot #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott one shot #george weasley #ron weasley #fred weasly x reader #ron weasly x reader #fred weasley #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire

[lenoreamidala]

you must be a weasley

#im honestly not super happy with the way these flow together #they dont match as well as i would like #but ive been working on this for like a week #and i have to be done with it lol #the weasleys #hpedit #arthur weasley #molly weasley #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley

[dronarryfest]

What an incredible first week of dronarry! Here is the roundup of all the amazing works we’ve shared so far. We’re giving you the Sunday off to catch up if you haven't yet! And we want to send a huge THANK YOU to our wonderful readers for all the comments and kudos you’ve been sending. Keep them coming and stay tuned for week two!

[FIC] Some Nights || E || 23k || by @thecouchsofa

Ron fucks up his Silencing Charms in the dorms one night. Then Malfoy does. The rest, as they say, is history. 

💭 Came for the filth stayed for the feels. And the filth. Scorching hot, funny as fuck, got me curling my toes so hard my whole leg cramped. - emsuemsu

💭 This is so incredibly perfect, like the smut is perfect but Harry’s cluelessness and excitement is amazing and Ron just rolling with the punches…needless to say I’ve already read it more than once - marebear723

[FIC] Hear Me Out || E || 5k || by @rainstormradish

“I know this is all just a big joke to you,” whispered Draco, his lips inches from Ron’s ear, his breath on his neck, his hips pressed against him, Merlin, “but I need you to fucking commit to the bit here, Ron.”

💭 I am burning UP. i love how distinct each of their characters are. And the tension???? God, they’re all so sexy. - lostinyourcostellation

💭 Scorching hot! Absolutely love this premise & the way you carried it out here felt sooo good. Wonderfully done :) - thestarryknight

[ART] Signing The Forever Bond || G || by @digthewriter

No fanfare adorned their sacred moment, no gaze of a world eager to witness, for they sought not the spotlight's glow but rather the quiet dance of shared hearts. And some paperwork.

💭 I adore long hair Dronarry! What beautiful patterns and color, and I love their comfortable closeness and contentment. adore long hair Dronarry! What beautiful patterns and color, and I love their comfortable closeness and contentment. -schmem_14

💭  This is so gorgeous! I'm obsessed with ALL the details. Bearded Draco! There isn't enough Bearded!Draco content, honestly. - sleepstxtic

[FIC] Permanent || M || 14k || by @citrusses

"Harry's always been fixated on older men. Have you ever noticed that, Ron?” Granger asks. “Have I ever noticed—Hermione, we’ve lived with the bloke for years! He doesn’t bring them home much, but I’m not blind. I see who he’s shagging.” “And David, an older man, tells Harry ‘Saviour Complex’ Potter he needs him to save the world?” “He didn’t stand a chance,” Ron agrees. “Fascinating,” Draco says, in a strangled voice.

💭 I love this so much. I can't wait to reread it. What a gorgeous fucking fic with beautiful, agonising detail and introspection. - TheGoblinMatriarch

💭 Omg I don’t want to be that person BUT I COULD READ 300K OF THIS it was brilliant! - Moonflower_Rose

[FIC] These Foolish Little Games || E || 8.5k || by @schmem14

Thanks to a falling out between Harry and Ron, Draco can finally get together with Harry, have the most spectacular and inappropriate office sex, and enjoy Weasley-free weekends out. Life is perfect. So why does he have the nagging feeling he should get the estranged best friends to patch things up?

💭 Incredibly steamy, love the setup of a Ron/Harry fight and Draco’s scheming ❤️❤️❤️❤️ - citrusses

💭 yesssss - i am always here for the under the desk shenanigans. Lol at how easily they convinced Ron. There was no hope for him 😂 - MaesterChill

[FIC] Edging into His Heart || E || 5k || by @chelsiewhitlock & diplobeanz

Stuck on a long stakeout, Draco has reached the end of his patience with Ron Weasley's rule. In an effort to make the best of the situation, he decides to push the boundaries and past the edge of propriety. Shenanigans ensue.

💭  THIS is the Draco Ron dynamic I’m here for 😍 this story was fucking hot, and that tantric spell thingy oh, my… 🥵 - schmem_14

💭 wowww the dynamics you have going on here!!! 100/10 will be thinking about forever.  - fluxweed

[FIC] People Are Boring || E || 14.3k || by @starquestingfordrarry

“Alright, what’s your terrible news?” Draco braces himself on Harry’s desk. “Weasley’s hot.” “You’ll have to be more specific, there are a lot of hot Weasleys.” Draco makes a strangled, groaning sound in his throat. “The Weasley. Weasel. Weasel-by. Your Weasley.” Harry’s heart jumps to his throat, and his stomach drops to his shoes. “Ron’s back?”

💭 THAT.WAS. DMCJSKDKCJDH. I was excited, my heart ached at one point, I cried, then screeched, this really did have it all 🔥 - Jaqie

💭 So softly angsty then so tender then so sexy. This dynamic just works beautifully, and your Ron is 🔥🔥🔥 - gr8k8

#dronarry fest 24 #dronarryfest #dronarry #draco malfoy #ron weasley #harry potter #week 1 roundup

[heartfeltletters-written]

I want a fic where Hinny is codependent of one another and are one of the few source of comfort of one another, while also maintaining their own independency (which makes no sense nowhere but in my head) and they get more than a few weeks of romance because they deserve more sunlit days before going through a living traumatic hell.

Also i want people to appreciate Ron's friendship with Harry a lot more than they do, for years Ron was the only source of love Harry had, yes Hermione was there as well but she was more logical in her love to Harry than Ron, more concerned for safety and dark lords, while Ron was ride or die for Harry (even admist their disagreeings over the years) Ron will always defend Harry no matter what!

Ginny's Harry's lifeline and Ron is his ride or die, while Hermione is the health insurance friend.

#harry potter #ron weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #hinny #ron x harry #but platonic #that´s his best friend fr #ginny is harry safe port #headcanon #hinny has more than 2 weeks #movies!ron suck boo tomato tomato #it's not ruperts fault tho #he could have done so much

[whinlatter]

In your opinion when did Ginny start drifting away from Dean? What was it that made her decide she didn’t want to be with him anymore? I know it can’t just be him helping her through the door because it’s such a small reason to break up with someone. Did she start to notice Harry noticing her? Or did the relationship run it’s course?

are you ready for an unhinged galaxy brain take from me

I actually think Ginny started to suspect something had changed in Harry's feelings for her not long after he himself realised, after the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, early November. The scraps of evidence for this headcanon are few and far between but you can nonetheless prise them from my cold dead hands. Even before Harry himself realised he had feelings for Ginny, he was asking to hang out with her (on the train, in Hogsmeade) in ways that definitely would have seemed new. Then after the match itself:

'Laughing, Harry broke free of the rest of the team and hugged Ginny, but let go very quickly. Avoiding her gaze, he clapped a cheering Ron on the back instead as, all enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters.'

Ginny is a very good reader of Harry's emotions and responses at this point in the series. She seems to clock that Harry has just given her this very weird, out of character hug - weird both in that it's clearly very physically awkward and brief, but also weird in that Harry has given her a hug at all, when he's never initiated a hug with any other character before, let alone her. Then, this chat at the after party, immediately after Harry has just ditched a group of admiring (and extremely willing) girls flirting with him:

'“It looks like he’s eating her face, doesn’t it?” said Ginny dispassionately. “But I suppose he’s got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry.” She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, but then she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.'

This is the first time Ginny touches Harry in the series. It's innocuous enough to anyone watching - Chaser pats Captain on the arm after a game - but given how unusual it is for Ginny to touch Harry, so soon after their previous strange interaction where Harry initiated touch with Ginny for the first time, I think we can see this interaction as Ginny testing her theory. (Tbh I think Harry's response to her here, including the fact that he literally doesn't even speak in front her lol, would give her even more reason for suspicion.)

I basically think Dean and Ginny are doomed after this. Not because I think Ginny would be like great Harry likes me time to break up with Dean - I think she's got months of pranging out about it ahead of her. But I think the stage is set for Ginny starting to actively compare Dean to Harry, and finding him wanting. Between the more morsels of evidence she gets in the following weeks (taking Luna to the ball, the maggot incident), and how miserable Ginny seems at the prospect of going back to Dean in the New Year, I think there's good reason to suspect she had clocked that Harry might, at long last, be returning feelings for her. (I tried to talk a bit about Ginny's view of Dean here).

I know a lot of fics and general fanon has Hermione working Harry's crush out first and pointing it out to Ginny, but I actually really don't buy this! There's no real proof of Hermione noticing Harry's changing feelings for Ginny until really late on. On the topic of Slughorn's party, she tells him to "just invite someone", and doesn't seem to suspect anything after he lies that there's no-one he wants to invite. I genuinely don't think Hermione knew until mid-March:

“Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it,” said Harry, still trying to sound casual. “Or are they still together?” “Yes, they are — but why are you so interested?” asked Hermione, giving Harry a sharp look. “I just don’t want my Quidditch team messed up again!” he said hastily, but Hermione continued to look suspicious, and he was most relieved when a voice behind them called, “Harry!” giving him an excuse to turn his back on her.

Of course, after this point, Hermione is in full super sleuth mode. To Hermione, Ginny's argument with Dean suddenly makes a lot more sense now she's realised that a) Harry likes Ginny and b) Ginny has already worked out Harry likes her and so is sabotaging her relationship with Dean. After Ginny and Dean break up while Harry is on Felix Felicis (subtle from HJP), Hermione knows for sure what's going on, and is deliciously smug and unsubtle about it in ways that makes me think if she had known before this, she would have let on. It's true that Harry is oblivious, but it's also true that Hermione has never passed up a chance to say I told you so (she's just like me fr)

#hinny #meta #TL;DR ginny weasley knew as soon as that man came in for a cuddle #'harry potter wants to HUG ME? oh shit i'm in trouble' - ginny weasley #probably #thank you anon! #trying to work through my inbox i'm so sorry this week has been a fresh fiery hellscape of deadlines #doin my best forgive me forgive me

[the-al-chemist]

Not Mine Is The Glory

For Day 2 of @thethreebroomsticksfic’s Weasley Week, the focus is all on ickle Ronniekins. As Ron struggles with jealousy and insecurity, maybe a talk with a family member can help set him straight.

Warnings: none, really. A little hurt comfort.

November 1994

Since the start of term, all that anyone seemed to talk about was the Triwizard Tournament. And now, the day before the first challenge, everyone was talking more than ever.

Everyone except Ron.

Ron couldn’t have cared less about the tournament, not anymore. He just wished that it was over with already, so that everybody would move on and he wouldn’t have to hear about it.

He kept himself to himself for most of the morning, eating his breakfast in a sullen silence and barely uttering a word during his lessons. At lunchtime, the only reason he didn’t seek further solitude in the library was the protest of his groaning stomach. It was fortunate that he decided to pay attention to his appetite, however, for as he was halfway through his sandwiches, an owl flew into the Great Hall and dropped a letter on his plate.

A little confused, Ron opened the letter, which read:

Come to the Quidditch stands after your lessons finish for the day. And try to be subtle about it, please.

Though the letter wasn’t signed, the handwriting was familiar somehow. Frowning, Ron peered around the Great Hall to see who might have sent him the message, but no one was looking his way. Of course they weren’t. No one ever did.

No one was looking at him when he left his last lesson of the day and headed straight for the currently disused Quidditch pitch, wondering as he walked whether he was making a mistake in following the nameless instructions. What if the letter had been sent by Fred and George, hoping to make him the butt of yet another of their practical jokes?

This concern grew in Ron’s mind when he saw a stockily built wizard with red hair on the edge of the pitch, leaning against the stands. But though this wizard looked like both Fred and George, it became clear as Ron grew closer that this was neither of them.

It was Charlie.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Ron asked his second oldest brother, who half-smiled at the question.

“Great to see you, too,” he said, before laughing good-naturedly and giving Ron a handshake that turned into a hug. “How’s it going, mate? Alright?”

It was not going alright at all, but Ron wasn’t ready to admit that, not even to Charlie. He nodded and made a humming noise before frowning again.

“Seriously, why are you here? I thought you were back in Romania.”

Charlie hesitated for just a moment before answering Ron’s question. “I’m here for the Triwizard Tournament. First challenge is tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know,” Ron muttered darkly. “So, you’re coming to watch it, too?”

“Er, sort of,” said Charlie, with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be watching it in between.”

“In between what?”

“Working.”

“Working? But why would you be working here during…” Ron’s voice tailed off, and his eyes widened. “No!” he half-gasped. “No. There’s no way they’d let a bloody dragon loose in the school.”

But even as he heard himself say the words, Ron doubted them. The look on Charlie’s face only served to confirm his suspicions.

“Dragons? That’s the first task? Dragons?”

“I didn’t say that,” Charlie said slowly.

“So…”

“I didn’t say that. You guessed.”

Ron blinked twice, hard. “What?”

“You guessed, so no one’s cheating. Right?” asked Charlie. The look in his eyes was pointed. Slowly, Ron nodded his head. “That means that if you tell your mate Harry that I was here, and he guesses, that’s not cheating either.”

It might not have been cheating, but Ron still couldn’t tell Harry anything. He stayed quiet, hoping that Charlie would change the subject. He didn’t.

“How is Harry getting along, anyway?”

“I dunno,” replied Ron, after a short but awkward pause. He avoided looking at Charlie as he explained, “We aren’t really talking at the moment.”

“You’re not?” Charlie sounded more surprised than he did judgemental. “Did you have an argument or something?”

“Not really, we just… I’m just tired of it.” Ron sighed angrily and kicked up a patch of mud with the toe of his shoe. “He’s already this prodigy at Quidditch, and he’s not bad at school either, and now he’s School Champion as well.”

Charlie raised one red eyebrow. “You didn’t really want to be the school champion, did you?”

“I’d have liked to have the chance, at least. But I didn’t get to try, because Harry didn’t tell me he’d figured out how to get past Dumbledore’s age line. I mean, he’s supposed to be my best friend, but he entered the tournament and didn’t even tell me about it!”

Ron had been bottling up his feelings ever since the champions had been announced. Now that he was letting them out, he couldn’t stop.

“After all we’ve been through together for the last few years, I would’ve thought that he’d have wanted to do this together, too. Or maybe even let me have a chance at being the one who gets to have the glory for once, but no.” Ron shook his head. “It’s like he likes the fact that I’m always in his shadow, or something. I dunno.”

A few moments passed before Charlie said anything. When he did, his response came as a surprise to Ron.

“I do,” he said sincerely, before almost laughing at the look on Ron’s face. “Come on, Ron. Of course I know. What do you think it was like going to school two years after Bill? You weren’t here while he was getting twelve O.W.L.s and being the Head Boy. You didn’t see the girls tripping over themselves to get him to notice them. I did. So, I get it.” He leaned back against the stands again. “But, you know, being overshadowed has its perks. There’s less pressure, fewer expectations of you. You get more freedom. Merlin, I wouldn’t swap places with Bill for the world. Would you really want to swap places with Harry? Really?”

The obvious answer to Charlie’s question was ‘yes’, but Ron knew that answer wasn’t entirely truthful. Charlie seemed to know it, too, because he continued:

“It’s tough, being so close to the one who gets the glory, but that gives you something. Strength or… I don’t know what it is exactly, but from my experience people who always get the attention need that. They need people like us, even if it’s only to keep them grounded sometimes.” Charlie gave Ron a sympathetic half-smile. “I bet he really misses you.”

“I miss him, too,” Ron admitted. He swallowed hard. “I dunno what to do.”

“You know what I’d do?” asked Charlie. Ron shook his head, and Charlie’s gaze drifted towards the direction of the Forbidden Forest. “I’d do whatever it took to not lose my best friend.”

There was a stubborn finality to his tone that made it clear that he didn’t expect an argument. But Ron was stubborn, too.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked his brother, who shrugged.

“Real dragons aren’t like the ones you read about in stories, Ron. You met Hagrid’s Ridgeback, you know what I mean. And that was just a juvy. These ones, the one’s Harry will be facing, they’re the real deal. They’re dangerous. Your mate deserves to know what he’s up against.” Charlie’s expression became less grave as he added under his breath, “Also, there’s a small but very scary woman who won’t forgive me if anything happens to him.”

That didn’t surprise Ron one bit.

“Yeah, mum’ll lose it if Harry gets hurt,” he agreed. “Hermione too.” An idea struck him. “That’s it! Hermione!”

“What about her?”

“She’s still talking to Harry, and me too, sort of. I can tell her what you’ve told me—”

“I didn’t tell you anything.”

“— and she’s bound to help Harry. If anyone can come up with a way to get him to beat a dragon, it’s her.” Ron glanced over his shoulder at the castle. It was almost dinner time, and if he ran, he might just manage to intercept Hermione on her way from the library to the Great Hall. “Thanks, Charlie. Good seeing you.”

And, barely noticing his brother’s wave goodbye, Ron returned to the castle, where he found Hermione just leaving the Great Hall.

“Hermione,” he said, taking hold of her arm and pulling her into a corner to speak without anyone over-hearing them. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“Can it wait?” asked Hermione impatiently. “I promised that I’d help Harry with… something.”

That ‘something’ could only be the challenge the following day. Ron didn’t let go of her arm.

“Dragons,” he whispered.

“What?”

“That's what the challenge is tomorrow. I saw Charlie by the Quidditch pitch, he said he’s here working. It’s dragons.”

Ron was not sure how he had expected Hermione to react to this revelation, but he certainly had not been expecting her to tut and roll her eyes, nor to tell him: “Yes, I know.”

“Wait, what? You know? But how—”

“Hagrid saw the dragons this weekend. Harry and I have been preparing for them ever since,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. She softened slightly, and looked almost apologetic. “Look, Ron, I really do have to go and help Harry. It’s just that the task is tomorrow, and… well, it’s dragons.”

An hour ago, Ron would have been annoyed at the fact that Hermione was leaving him so abruptly to help Harry with the challenge. An hour ago, he might have been annoyed that the two of them had figured it out without his help. But now, he only felt relief that Harry had Hermione on his side.

He let go of Hermione’s arm and nodded. “Fine. Go and help him, then.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione. Her large front teeth grazed her lower lip. “Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“You will come and watch the challenge tomorrow, won’t you?”

Ron didn’t really want to watch the challenge. He wanted nothing to do with it. But, he could see how anxious Hermione looked. She wanted him to come for her sake as much as Harry’s, he was sure of it.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll come and watch it with you.”

Somewhat awkwardly, Hermione hugged him. And as she did, Ron couldn’t help but feel glad that yet again, Harry was the one getting to have the glory.

#ron weasley #charlie weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hpff #Weasley week #weasley family #goblet of fire

[ginnyw-potter]

A walk with Mr Weasley Written for @hinnymicrofic, January prompt 14: walk

Mr Weasley smiled friendly. “Harry, would you mind accompanying me on a walk?”

Harry looked up just a little alarmed. He seemed to have chosen a time when somehow no one else was around but him and Mr and Mrs Weasley. He nodded and slowly put down the spoon of his cereal. He suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. “Sure.”

Mrs Weasley offered him an encouraging smile, which worried him even more.

Harry followed Mr Weasley outside and then walked around the garden. Harry nodded politely as Mr Weasley made a comment about the trees in the orchard. Then they continued their walk. Harry had an inkling the destination of their walk was completely irrelevant. Mr Weasley proved him right a moment later.

“I have been meaning to ask you something,” Mr Weasley started.

Though his face friendly as ever, Harry felt uncomfortable all the same.

“Do you intend to marry Ginny?”

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Because she is my only daughter—You understand.”

Harry did not understand.

Mr Weasley continued. “And I am rather fond of you.”

“Thank you?” Harry let out.

Mr Weasley smiled at his reaction. “I know you have no family and I have considered you—Well, both Molly and I—part of this family for a while. It would be splendid if you simply married into ours, and it is rather convenient in that way that you ended up dating…” Mr Weasley eyed him carefully. “But even if you don’t—I hope you know I will always consider you part of our Weasley clan.”

Harry felt his throat close up and he halted. He looked down at his shoes for a moment. “That’s very kind of you, Mr Weasley.” He looked back up.

“Call me Arthur, please. Or something else. Mr Weasley is so formal,” Arthur said with a smile. “And I know you wouldn’t ask me permission to marry Ginny—and you do not need to. Ginevra finds the whole thing archaic.” He shrugged. “And perhaps she is right.”

Harry looked out to the orchard so he didn’t need to meet Arthur’s gaze. “I do intend on marrying her.” He glanced back at Arthur. “I just hope she’ll say yes, when the time comes.”

Arthur continued their walk, chuckling. “Do you doubt she would?”

“I don’t know.” He let out a big sigh. “When I left to hunt horcruxes, I had to let her go and she couldn’t wait for me. And so I knew the chances of me ever marrying her were slim.” That had simply been the reality, and he still wasn’t used to having a choice. “Hoping she’ll marry me... I feel like that is testing my luck. I’ll wait and see when the time comes.”

“I think you’ve earned some luck, Harry.” Arthur patted his shoulder. “And I don’t think she’d like the thought of marrying someone else at all.” He shook his head at the idea. “She wouldn’t give up on you so quickly. I know that much.”

Harry smiled softly. “You think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

#hinny #I think this was my favourite of the week #hinnymicrofic #microfic #arthur weasley #weasley #weasley family #wamily (weasley family) #harry potter #fic

[matchavellichor]

A Misplaced Apparition

Garreth Weasley x f!MC - Fluff/Banter - 3.2k words - ao3 link

While helping Garreth forage for potion ingredients, a misplaced apparition leaves you both magic-less and stranded somewhere in the Forbidden Forest.

Black Cat MC, Golden Retriever Garreth // Huddling for Warmth/One Bed trope // MC is a little mean, Garreth is a pining himbo who loves her for it

Recent Weasley Wednesdays have awakened something in me for this man and I just... 🫠 had to write a dumb lil fic

“Just stay quiet and stay behind me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Garreth gives you a mock salute before he follows you further into the moss-covered cavern. Water drips from stalactites on the ceiling, the sound echoing eerily off the stone walls. 

Your wand is outstretched in front of you, a soft glow emitting from the tip of the wood and illuminating the surrounding space. The lair is quiet, too quiet, and your shoulders are strung high with anticipation, reflexes trained to react accordingly to any threat.

At the first sight of an acromantula, Garreth shrieks, before you quickly slash the creature’s head off with a slicing hex. Suddenly the cave is not so quiet, the sound of numerous legs scrambling down the stone passageways of the cavern some distance away, quiet hisses and clicking. 

“Shout a little bit louder, will you?” You chastise. “I think you only woke about eighty percent of the colony.”

“Oh, my bad!” Garreth retorts. “I’ll make sure to keep my cool the next time a hairy, eight-legged monster lunges for my throat.”

He quickly kneels beside the carcass, grimacing when he slices into the exoskeleton of the creature with a scalpel and black goo immediately drenches his fingers. He makes a small puncture in the venomous gland and collects the liquid into a vial, corking it and wiping his hands with a disgusted shudder. “Merlin, I hate spiders.”

“Yet you drag me to an acromantula lair?”

“Uh, duh? I’m not spending 100 galleons a pint on this stuff when I have my own personal body guard to help me extract it for free. Plus, this is—” He interrupts himself with another shriek when a second acromantula, about twice the size of the first, pounces from the shadows, fangs flared. You immediately incinerate the creature with a confringo, but Garreth bumps into you in his fright, knocking your wand out of your hand and sending it rolling out of reach on the stone floor of the cavern, your lumos going out with it.

“Weasley, you dimwit!” You groan, feeling around on your hands and knees for the lost wand. It’s pitch black inside the lair, and you know the longer you sit around defenseless and blind, the greater your chance of ending up as spider dinner. 

“I found it!” He announces, reigniting the lumos with your wand in hand. He walks back over to you with a smug smile before his eyes catch on something over your shoulder and his expression immediately drops. 

You can hear the tell-tale click of pincers behind you and it doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s got him shitting his trousers. Before you can even take back your wand and defend yourself, he’s yanking you into his chest by the collar of your coat and you’re feeling your entire body squeeze with the tug of apparition.

A few seconds later, you land flat on the ground on top of him, limbs entangled in one another’s. You both wince from the impact, your insides feeling like they’ve been rearranged in the wrong order. 

“I’m…I’m going to kill you.” You groan, willing yourself not to throw up your lunch all over him.

“‘Oh, thank you, Garreth, for saving us from the big, angry spider.’” He mimics, voice shrill and high-pitched. You’re unamused. 

“I would’ve handled it!” You retort, sliding off his chest. You sit up, trying to gain some level of composure after just having all of your atoms immaterialized and recombined. “Where the hell did you even take us?”

He takes a look around, scratching his head as he tries to spot some identifying landmark. “Er, I’m…not sure.” 

���Oh, lovely.”

“I wasn’t thinking! There was a ginormous spider in front of me, I kind of just pictured in my head ‘not here’, you know?”

“Perfect! We could be in bloody Uzbekistan right now!” 

“I’m flattered that you think I’m powerful enough to accomplish transcontinental apparition at the drop of a hat,” He splays a hand over his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips. He takes another look around the immediate surroundings. “But, we’re clearly still in Scotland, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m going to put off throttling you at the moment for both of our sakes,” You pick yourself up off the ground, head still slightly woozy, before you outstretch your hand in front of him. “Just give me my wand so we can get out of here.” 

He slowly gets up himself, revealing the piece of wood snapped in two, having been wedged underneath both of you when you apparated.

You gape at the crushed wand, now just a dull, magic-less stick after having severed its core. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You’ve said that already. I don’t think it’s possible to kill someone twice, even with your talents.”

“Garreth, this is serious!” You seethed. “You snapped my wand!”

“I didn’t snap anything, it was a blameless casualty!” He raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm you.

“Oh my God, just, nevermind.” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Take out yours and apparate us out of here, for the love of Merlin, before I burst an artery.” 

He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “So…about that.”

You look at him dumbfounded. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Well, excuuuse me for having a little faith in my friend,” He scoffs. “You wield Ancient Magic, for Merlin’s sake! I assumed I was in safe enough hands to leave it in my dorm.”

“Perfect, so we’re stranded in a random forest without any magic.”

“Look, just relax, we’re probably not far from Hogwarts,” He squints his eyes as he focuses on a particularly ordinary piece of shrubbery. “You know what, yeah,” He tilts his head, contemplative, as if this random bush has given him a grand epiphany. “I know exactly where we are, it’s uh— right this way.”

“Oh, then by all means,” You gesture your hand forward.

He takes a couple over-confident steps north before he stops in his tracks, squints and scratches the back of his head as he examines the path in front of him. He turns on his heels on a ninety-degree angle and resumes his strides. “Okay, just kidding. This way, yes, yes, definitely this way.” 

“You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” 

“Of course I do!” 

—

The two of you make your way through the woods for several, long, grueling hours, cutting through thickets and beaten-down paths. For the first few hours it’s admittedly a little peaceful, the forest floor covered in reds and oranges from the autumn leaves, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the treescape. Soon enough though, the last vestiges of daylight dwindle into darkness, shrouding the forest in twilight. When you realize you seem to be nowhere closer to civilization, you stop in your tracks, defeated.

“This is pointless,” You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. Your feet ache from stepping over so many overgrown roots and boulders and you’re starting to feel sleep pull at your eyes. “We’re clearly getting nowhere.”

“You’re right,” He relented, letting the rucksack slung over his shoulder sink to the floor. “So what now?”

“I think this is the point where we draw lots to decide who eats who.” You sigh. “It’s our best chance at survival.”

He looks genuinely concerned at your seriousness for a moment before he breaks into a smug smirk. “Oh love, if you wanted a piece of this,” He gives you a little wink. “All you had to do was ask.”

You blink at him. “You’ve cured my appetite. Thank you, Weasley.”

“Anytime.” 

“Let’s just…call it in for the night.” You lay back on the grass, legs aching. You’re so exhausted you’d probably kiss the blast end of a skrewt for a warm bed. “We’ll walk more in the morning.”

“Good idea.” He kneels down beside you, rummaging through his bag and pulling out various materials that he’s managed to fit inside with an expansion charm.

“Let me get this straight,” You squint at the litter cluttering the floor around you. “You bring with you a frying pan,” You dangle the lunky piece of metal in front of his face. “But not your wand.” 

“Uh, yeah?” He scoffs as if it’s obvious. “You never know when you might want a quick snack in the middle of your gallivanting.”

“Great, so I assume you also have some means of starting a fire then? It’s freezing.” 

His response is a silent pause, to which you return with a groan. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not really the sharpest tool in the shed?”

“I have no idea what that means,” He looks at you a little puzzled. “But Sallow has told me I’m not the brightest lacewing fly in the jar.” He scratches his chin, contemplating. “Never really understood what he meant by that.” He shrugs to himself and continues sorting through the madness stuffed in his sack. 

“You know, Weasley, you’re so clueless sometimes it’s almost adorable. Like a… big, red Puffskein or something.”

He perks up, looking up at you with a grin stretching ear to ear. “You think I’m adorable?”

“You have selective hearing, huh?”

“Yup,” He pauses for a moment, and you can almost see the little gears turning in his head before he opens his mouth to say something that’s going to give you an even bigger headache. “Okay, so, hypothetically — if aforementioned adorable critter was very tall and very ginger, would you ever shag a Puffsk—”

“Christ, alright, forget I said anything about Puffskeins.” 

He raises his hands in an acquiescing gesture before he’s back to rummaging through his bag. You watch as he pulls out cheeses and breads wrapped in cloth, crackers and little jars of jams. The man packs an entire charcuterie board but doesn’t pack basic survival necessities like matches. He grins proudly when he pulls out his pièce de résistance, or so he calls it, a large bottle of cheap, goblin-made elderberry wine.

“Really splurged on the good stuff, huh?” You mutter, a thick layer of sarcasm slathered on top. You eye the label of the bottle, that has enough alcohol stuffed in it to inebriate a young manticore.

“Duh,” He slices you a piece of sourdough. You’re glad that if you’re attacked by poachers or a wild animal, at least you’ll have a flimsy bread knife to defend yourselves with. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t properly wine and dine my lady on our date.”

“Date, huh?” You snort. You lean in, tapping a finger to his temple. “Think you might’ve hit your head a little too hard when we apparated, Weasley. Something’s not right in there.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” He turns to look at you, a small smile playing at his lips. He holds two jars of jam in front of you. “That I hit when I fell for you. Quite a nasty tumble.” He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes. “Apricot or blackberry?”

“Apricot.”

He opens the jar and slathers a generous layer on top of your bread. It’s admittedly a little endearing to watch him slicing a piece of cheese for you, nimble fingers focusing on the presentation. He hands you the bread with a little ta-da and you bite back a smile. 

He makes true on his promise to wine and dine you for the better part of the evening, and you admittedly find yourself enjoying his company a little too much. He’s witty and charming, and despite how much you tease him for being an idiot, he’s so blaringly not. He talks in detail about his latest brewing endeavors, and you marvel at how much practical and theoretical knowledge he has about the subject. 

You admire the way his green eyes light up when he speaks about what he’s passionate about. At how they almost seem to glow when he says something that makes you laugh, a proud smile on his face. 

“You look pretty like this,” He murmurs some time after the laughter and conversation died down, moonlight casting a soft glow around your surroundings. It’s cold out considering it’s the middle of October, but there’s a pleasant warmth seeping through you from the wine in your stomach and the feel-good banter. You try not to think about how warm he makes you feel, spreading through your body like hot honey. 

“Like what?”

“All giggles and smiles,” He nudges your shoulder. “Not so serious. You should do it more often.”

You shrug, chancing a side-long glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips from the sincereness in his voice. “You should make me do it more often.” 

“Believe me,” He grins, lopsided and charming. You’d press your lips to that stupid smile of his, chase the taste of sugary blackberry off his tongue, but you haven’t had nearly enough wine to lower your inhibitions to that point. You just observe him. 

“I would dedicate my life to doing exactly so if you let me.”

—

“Aha! Found it.” Garreth pulls out a thick, rolled-up comforter with twine around the middle from the depths of his rucksack, holding it up proudly. It’s plush, and very red and gold — because of course, even Garreth’s sleeping bag has to be on brand. He lays it out under the cover of a large oak tree, smoothing down the fabric. 

“Alrighty, climb in,” He pats the soft material. “I don’t mind sharing as long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep.”

“I’m fine right here,” You huddle into yourself on the soft patch of grass you’re laying on, knees bunched up to your chest. “Also, no promises.” 

“It’s freezing,” He protests. “You can’t really expect me to let you sleep like that.”

“You don’t have to let me do anything,” You roll your eyes. “I’m sleeping right here.”

“Stop being stubborn and get in the bag.”

“No. I don’t want to get in the bag.”

“Just get in the bag.”

“Oh my god,”

“Get—”

“I’m two seconds away from strangling you.”

“Oho, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Weasley.”

“Fine, fine!” He chuckles. “Grouchy. No strangling.”

He settles down for all but five seconds before he opens his mouth again. “Unless it’s erotic strangling, then by all mea—”

“For the love of—”

“Alright, alright! Shutting up now.” 

—

You try to keep the sound of your teeth-chattering to a minimum, determined to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right, but you last all of twenty minutes before all of your resolve is withering away. 

You peer over at Garreth, his eyes closed, sound asleep. He looks so infuriatingly soft and inviting, and you hate yourself for thinking that his arms would feel heavenly wrapped around you right now, your body pressed to his, leeching off his warmth. 

Screw it.

You stand up from your spot, muttering curses to yourself under your breath as you make your way towards him. The second he hears you move, he lifts an arm to open up a space for you, as if expecting it. He doesn’t make a comment, doesn’t even open his eyes, but you can feel his self-satisfied smirk as you slide into the sleeping bag with him, your back pressed to his chest. 

And fuck him, if he doesn’t have a right to be self-satisfied. 

Because he truly does feel heavenly. He somehow manages to be cushiony and firm all at the same time. You can feel the rigid contours of his muscles pressed against your frame, taut yet velvety soft. You chalk up the heat you feel on your cheeks to the fact that his skin is warm like a furnace, devastatingly comforting. When you press back against him, your body wriggling against his like you’re draping yourself over a sun-bathed rock, he takes it as an open invitation to slide his hands over your sides, arms wrapping around you. 

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your teddy bear—” You grumble but he hushes you.

“I know, Mr. Snuffles is a lot nicer.” He murmurs, cheek pressed against your shoulder. “But, you make do with what you’ve got in the rugged wilderness, I suppose.” 

You snort, the image of Garreth actually cuddling with a teddy bear coming into mind. You try not to linger on the fact that’s probably what it’d look like he’s doing at the moment to an outsider’s eyes, his body significantly dwarfing yours. 

“Mr. Snuffles? Really?”

“Hey! I named him when I was eight.” He retorts. “Mmhm, you do smell a lot nicer than him, though.”

“I smell like sweat and dirt.” 

“Yeah, but it’s you, so it’s like a…pleasant sweat and dirt.”

“You’re a very strange individual.”

“I love it when you sweet-talk me.”

You shift against him, letting yourself sink against his body because he feels just too good wrapped around you for you to protest. “Will you take your wand out of your pocket? It’s poking me.”

“I don’t have my wand. That’s something else.”

“Oh God—”

“I’m teasing!” He chuckles. “It’s my deluminator.” He slips the strange contraption from his pocket and flicks it open, a soft glow emitting from the tip. He tucks it away and wraps himself back around you. 

“Come on, do you think me some kind of pervert? I’ve been picturing Leander in a bathing suit the moment you came in.”

You snort. “Oh, so that’s why you have an erection,” You tease. “And here I was thinking you were just happy to see me.”

“Hilarious.” 

He shifts you against him, rearranging you how he pleases in the tight space of the sleeping bag so your face is pressed against his chest. He tucks a leg between yours, entangling your limbs as if he’d find any ounce of personal space an offense. He sighs contentedly at the feeling of your warm breath against his skin, squeezing you even tighter. 

“Do you have to manhandle me like this?” You grumble, though make no efforts to move out of position. It is admittedly a little nice to be his plush toy for a night, to feel his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on top of your head. Okay, screw it, it’s actually insanely nice.

“Be less easy to manhandle then.” 

—

“Are they dead?”

“Dunno, —uh, try poking one?”

You wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up and finding two third-years hovering over you in Quidditch uniforms, brooms in hand, and a mixture of curiosity and concern shrouding their expressions.

They both look startled when you wake, jumping back. 

Garreth groans beside you as you shift, wrapping his arms around your waist and sleepily murmuring “Five more minutes,” with his face pressed against your stomach.

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Uh, fine,” You stammer. “How…how are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

“How’d you get here?”

They both look at you confused. “You realize Hogwarts is just about a hundred meters that way, right?” One of the boys asks, perplexed. He nods his head towards the direction they likely came from. “We just came here to retrieve a stray Quaffle.” 

“Oh, uh…yes.” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Yes, I knew that.”

The boys just shrug before they hop back on their brooms, snickering to themselves as they make their way back to the Quidditch field.

Garreth hasn’t stirred a muscle during the entire interaction, blissfully asleep beside you. You sigh when he sleepily pulls you back down and into his arms, tucking you against his chest.

You decide to give him his five more minutes.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy garreth #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x mc #fluff #weasley wednesday #even though it's saturday #inspiration hit and i didn't want to wait until next week to post LOL

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

A Weasley Mood Board to celebrate @thethreebroomsticksfic #WEASLEYWEEK

#weasley week #weasleys #it's about the vibes

[celestial--sapphic]

Kiss me (like you wanna be loved)

Ao3 link

Summary:

Evelyn Caddel takes Poppy up on that offer of a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks (minus Highwing) and fifth year does not end the way in which she expected. In fact, it's much, much better.

Or: Self indulgent Poppy Sweeting x f!MC to fulfil my sapphic heart

Pairing: Poppy Sweeting x f!MC (Evelyn Caddel)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word count: 10,858

Chapter: 1/?

Relationships: Poppy Sweeting/Evelyn Caddel / Poppy Sweeting/Original Female Character

Tags: Developing Relationship/First Relationship/First Kiss/Post-Game(s)/wlw/Sapphic/LGBTQ Female Character/LGBTQ Themes/Evelyn is an anxious mess when it comes to pretty girls/Fluff Slytherin/Hufflepuff relationship/pick and choose historical accuracy/Imelda is a bitch but we love her/Poppy Sweeting is Bisexual/MC is a lesbian

#poppy sweeting #Evelyn Caddel #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #WLW #Sapphic #LGBTQ #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #imelda reyes #natsai onai #mirabel garlick #aesop sharp #matilda weasley #sirona ryan #Albie Weekes #This is my first fic so im scared AF #But we need more queer women content in the HL fandom