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queerregulusablack · 2 years

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Brain full of worms about an AU in which Regulus does not immediately jump to 'time to kill myself for the honour of my house elf' after figuring out about the horcrux, and instead devotes himself to being his own secret little spy, learning as much as he can about it/if there are more/how to destroy them before he does anything risky.

And he figures out that there are probably seven, or at least that that's what Voldemort intends, and he has a half-finished list of possible items they could be attached to/deaths Voldemort may have used to create them and he's really getting somewhere, for the first time in years he's a little hopeful about the future.

And he's been going on DE information gathering missions and has been watering down and minimising every piece of information he takes back, because if he openly fights Voldemort he'll end up dead and no one will know about the horcruxes or be able to stop them, but what he can do is slow things down, and manipulate the situation to keep innocent people alive, so there's still something left when he knows how to finish off Voldemort once and for all.

And he's depressed and falling apart and none of his manipulations feel like enough when people are still dying, and he's been that teenage boy who was ready to die alone and unmourned for such a long time - when Voldemort calls his inner circle, and all the Marked members of the House of Black, to a meeting in Malfoy Manor.

And Narcissa is sat beside him, hand holding his tightly, when on October 30th, 1981, Voldemort tells them that the war will be won tomorrow: because the Potters' Secret Keeper has given them up, and tomorrow night he's going to kill them.

And something in Regulus just shatters, just can't take it any more, fully breaks apart under the weight of the gleeful way Voldemort has just talked about killing a baby.

And for a moment, he blacks out.

When he comes to, Narcissa has immobilised or stunned - or killed, because its Narcissa - everyone else in the room that's not her husband or her baby cousin, and Regulus has one of the big, ornate silver steak knives from the Malfoys' best place settings clutched in his hand, and is straddling Tom Riddle's corpse where he'd thrown himself across the table and shoved the knife through his eye.

Because he was ready to suffer through the long game if it meant that in the end, Voldemort was gone for good: but he couldn't comprehend the idea of living in a world without James Potter somewhere in it, least of all letting Voldemort kill him.

(Because Blacks are possessive, and James is Sirius', was Regulus' for a little while, and like hell was he going to let Voldemort touch him.)

#starchaser #james potter x regulus black #regulus descending into a full mental breakdown after the fact bc WHAT HAVE I DONE I HAD A PLAN #Narcissa chooses her baby cousin over Voldemort bc of course she does??? what kind of disloyal bitch #making sad noises about James getting the full story about the horcruxes from Regulus #james devestated like 'you were going to kill yourself?'#regulus whispering back that 'i couldn’t. i knew youd be disappointed in me. im so tired of disappointing you.'#CRYING #anyway ft Kreacher the free elf who Regulus freed to hide that he survived the cave #going on errands for Regulus and forcing pepper up potion down his throat #jegulus #headcanon

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falsekingfrancis · 9 months

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Sirius: What is this one

James, who got some ingredients from

Lily: Ghost Pepper

Sirius: Why is it called that

James: Because it doesn't have a flavor until it's cooked. It's like eating a ghost of a pepper

Sirius: (eats it to see)

Sirius: (slowly turning red)

James, deadpan but clearly trying not to laugh: What's it taste like, Padfoot

Sirius, trying not to cry: it TASTES like we aren't FUCKING FRIENDS ANYMORE

#harry potter #marauders #sirius black #james potter #sirius and james #ghost pepper

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squibstress · 2 months

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I did a fic for the 2024 Salt and Pepper Fest:

Severus Snape and the Unbelievable Postwar Outcome

Rating: lite M Words: 10,869 Pairing: Minerva/Severus

Summary: Severus reluctantly returns to Hogwarts. He finds much has changed, not least himself.

Read it on AO3

#harry potter fanfiction #2024 Salt and Pepper Fest #minerva mcgonagall #severus snape #minerva/severus

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schmem14 · 1 year

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(Hello, my Tumblr is the only account I have that isn’t Katbeth86, but I love it’s name too much to change it 🙈)

Peculiar Prompt: Harry/Luna, Hidden Soulmarks (each person know where their own are, but the marks can’t be seen by others unless they choose to expose them), angst is fine, but I would please request a happy ending 🙈

What are peculiar prompts? Click HERE to find out and join in the fun!

Lost and Found

CW: none

Pairing: Harry Potter x Luna Lovegood

Rating: T

WC: 1.9k

*Disclaimer: There is a depiction of the Jewish Holiday of Passover/Seder in this story. I am not of the Jewish faith, but I did my best to research the traditions and holiday in preparation for this ficlet.

*****

“All finished, Harry,” Ron grunts as he stacks his stack of gleaming plates on the counter. “I think I did a fair job of it.”

Harry looks up from dusting a bookshelf to where his friend has been scouring every dish until they’re clean enough for tonight.

Harry sets his rag down. “Thanks for helping me. I’ve got the rest squared away.”

He plasters what he hopes is a pleasant smile on his lips, but for some reason, it’s harder this year to pretend he’s okay.

“No problem, mate. I should get going. Gotta pick up the kids from King’s Cross on the way to get Hermione from work. We’ll all be back by sundown, brisket and all.”

Harry nods but doesn’t trust his voice not to wobble. He’s grateful Ron came to help, but even his leaving for a few hours feels treacherously like abandonment. Every goodbye does when you’re as alone as Harry is.

Ron sees something in Harry’s expression and pauses.

He ambles over to Harry to enfold him in a hug.

A torrent of vulnerability so long dammed breaks free. Harry’s breath shudders and hitches with pitiful sobs that soak into Ron's sleeve as he pat's Harry's back.

“Harry—”

“—I know, alright? I—I can’t find her, whoever she is. I can’t seem to fill the hollow space here,” Harry pulls away to clutch his heart. “I’m not getting any younger, Ron. I’m not sure when I’ll find my soulmate, not after two decades of searching. I feel so alone. I need her.”

Ron sighs and leans against the couch opposite Harry, arms folding as he contemplates. He finally asks the thing he’s suspected, ever since Harry first told him about the soul mark hidden on his palm. “Does Ginny know that’s why you divorced her?”

Harry nods and flips his hand to rub his thumb over the smooth skin, concentrating on making the glamour dissipate.

The mark had appeared in the centre of his palm eight months after the last battle. At first, he’d thought Ginny would possess its twin, but when he’d asked her about it, she’d been as bewildered as him.

They’d both been too young and too in love to fathom the weight of marrying when he was soul-bound to another. It became a widening chasm between them, preventing him from feeling at home in Ginny’s embrace.

“Hermione and I worry about you,” Ron says. Of course, they do. “I know you have the kids, but they’re at Hogwarts most of the year. And even if Ginny is still on good terms with you, it’s not enough. Maybe you should try again, Haz. Maybe it’s time to give up on your mystery soul mate and find someone a little closer to home.”

Ron’s only being a good friend, and Harry doesn’t bother to explain that someone who hasn’t been soul marked can’t understand how every other intimate relationship is a poor imitation of who and what he yearns for.

Ever since divorcing Ginny, he feels the lack more than ever. He cherishes a hope after this month of preparing, the Passover celebration tonight will spark some much-needed joy after a lonely winter. He’s even prepared this home, pretending she’s coming like Elijah of old to fill the space he left her.

“I’ll be okay, Ron. I’ll see you later.”

Ron claps his large palm on Harry’s shoulder. “You sure?”

“Yes, Ron. And thanks.”

“Anything for my best mate.”

*****

Hours later, guests begin to arrive.

Ginny is first with their kids, who fling shoes and coats onto the floor of his sparkling entryway.

“House looks great, Har…” Ginny kisses him on the cheek. “Jamie! Get back here and hang your coat! You too, Al and Lils!”

They grumble under their breaths but comply. Normally, Harry’s house isn’t so immaculate, but this is a special time of year.

Ginny produces a crock from under her arm, charmed to stay hot. “I made the matzo ball soup, just like you asked.”

“Smells amazing, Gin. Thanks! I’ll take this to the kitchen.”

Next to arrive is Harry’s one Jewish friend from Hogwarts, Anthony Goldstein and his dangerously pregnant wife, Padma Patil. “Good to see you, Harry! Thanks for hosting this year…” Anthony winks before herding Padma to find a comfortable seat on the couch.

Hermione and Ron arrive next with the precocious Rose and exuberant Hugo in tow.

“Mum, can I try the wine this year? I’m fourteen, and Jamie gets to have some!” Rose whines at Hermione.

“Absolutely not. Jamie is nearly of age, and you’re not quite old enough,” Hermione explains in a longsuffering tone.

“I’ll give you a little sip of mine,” Harry catches Ron whispering to Rose seconds later as he winks at his scowling wife.

Anthony calls from the kitchen where he’s removing several parcels from the bag he’s brought. “Where do you keep the seder plate, Harry?”

“Just a sec, I’ll grab it.” Harry dodges the giggling train of Lily and Hugo as they race past him. He locates the precious porcelain plate with its six cups and unwraps it with careful fingers. It’s one of the few things he’d been able to salvage from his childhood home and his first clue of the lost heritage of his father’s family.

He sets the plate on the counter and helps place each element—Horseradish, Charoset, Potato, Shankbone, Egg, and Lettuce.

When they sit at the table together, Harry opens his copy of the Haggadah and begins to read.

“Prepare the meal of the supernal King. This is the meal of the Holy One, blessed be He, and His Shechinah…”

It’s a solemn affair, less boisterous than in years past.

They speak in hushed words as they sample the Karpas.

The crack of matzah is loud in the reverent silence that even the kids seem to be observing this year.

Lily’s voice is soft and melodic as she recites the four questions.

Later, when she and Hugo search for the afikoman hidden earlier by Anthony, they don’t shriek and thump about quite as loudly as they usually do.

The candles burn low.

The food dwindles from plates and bowls.

Harry pours the fourth round of wine followed by Elijah’s cup at the last empty chair of the table.

Every year, he waits for this moment, secretly hoping that as the Jews hope Elijah will grace their tables, his soulmate will somehow be waiting at the door.

Harry stands and walks to the entryway with shaking fingers. His heart pounds faster and faster. He feels hot inside, burning, full.

He lifts a hand to the doorknob, ready to open it when three sharp raps on the door splinter the silence.

The room seems frozen in amber, every eye huge and expectant, craning to watch Harry welcome the unexpected guest.

Harry twists the knob, pulls it open, and sees her.

*****

When the soul mark appears on her palm on the day of Xenophilius’s funeral, eight months after the end of the war, Luna sees it as an omen.

Not in the sense that she longs to chase it, but that she longs to turn the other way and never stop running.

She’s not one for great displays of sadness, but that doesn’t mean her foundations don’t crack with the newfound knowledge that one thread of love has the power to hurt her this much.

Luna leaves Hogwarts, education incomplete. She flits from country to country discovering all manner of cultures and magic. She loves people and things with her body and her mind, but her heart is reserved for the one whose sign she hides under a permanent glamour.

Years pass, and she never stops moving, though she does stop marking time.

Sometime around the first silvery grey strands threading through blonde, Luna finds herself getting pulled in the undertow of fate to the thing she’s avoided for so long.

It’s an early spring morning and she’s curling her toes and arching her back in a languorous stretch, wiggling closer to the warm body beside her in their battered canvas tent. A surge of urgency wakens within her.

He needs her.

She’s known his identity for years but refuses to get in the way. Last she heard, he married her best friend, had a litter of kids, and got a proper job at the Ministry.

Huddled and comfortable as she is against Rolf in their campsite in Grindavik, Iceland, Luna realises it’s time to come home.

She rolls off his cot and locates a pair of cargo trousers—hers, she thinks, but they’re about the same size and colour. He’ll never know either way, hyper-focused as he is on his research.

Rolf rolls over, grumbling for her to come back to bed, but Luna’s already in a rhythm, the need to move so powerful she has no time to waste.

Everything she owns fits in a shabby rucksack patched with scraps of fabric scrounged on her travels. She slings it over her shoulder now, toeing on her boots as if she’s running the race of her life.

Luna dashes out into the cold dawn air, the last vestiges of northern lights snaking away from view. Luna quickly locates her broomstick and flies toward the glowing embers of sunrise.

Toward home.

She flies all day, never stopping once, not even when her fingers ache and her stomach growls in hunger. She follows the homing beacon in her heart, getting closer and closer to him.

To Harry.

She’s never been to his cottage, but it looks warm and comforting in the glow of lights from the window. Luna stops before the gate, her heart thrumming with nervous energy. There’s a large oak tree out front, the sturdy boughs bending in a protective shade over the yard, a crude swing hanging from the lowest of them.

Luna can see herself on that swing, his hands warm on her back as he pushes her.

She can see herself kneeling in the humble garden, planting all her favourite clippings from every land she’s ever seen.

She can imagine spreading a tablecloth on the weathered picnic table while Harry brings dinner out, their towheaded child tottering along behind him, thumb in her mouth as she follows the smell of food.

She can imagine cosy nights before the fire, and eternal mornings binding every sinew of hers to his as they make love.

Her heart clenches at the sudden longing, the unfamiliar desire to put down roots.

She opens the gate and approaches the house. Her fingers won’t stop shaking as she raises her fist to knock.

The door creaks open, and there he is. Time has worn crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and there are whips of grey in the curls at his temples, but other than that, he’s the same.

“I’m home,” she says, the words tasting right in her mouth. She lifts her palm and concentrates, making the glamour fade.

Harry’s heart is in his eyes as he presses his palm to hers, a perfect mirror of marks humming against one another. She’s never felt so complete in her whole life.

“Welcome home,” he says. “You’ve come at just the right time.”

#Peculiar Prompts #Asked and Answered #Passover #Jewish Harry Potter #Harry Potter x Luna Lovegood #Harry x Luna #Soulmates #soul marks #canon compliant #salt and pepper Harry x Luna

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bridgertonbabe · 2 years

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Okay I’m gonna need you to follow up the angst and pining Benedict…

Does he find out she over heard what he said and that’s why she was so dismissive of him? If so how?

How does it all work out in the end??

I am LOVING this and need to know more please and thank you 🧡

Anon asked: Girl, you can't start something like this and not give me an answer!!!! What happens when Benedict realised that Sophie heard what he said? Does he makes it up to her? Come on!! You can give me angst but give me a little Happiness 😭😭😭

Benedict doesn't find out for several years that Sophie had heard what he had said about her at the Yule ball.

A couple of years into the interrailing trip Sophie, Colin, Phillip, and Michael are on, a portkey transports Anthony, Kate, Simon, Benedict, and Daphne to the Greek island the gang are currently staying on to celebrate Michael's birthday. The party spreads out from the hotel villa and down to the beach and everyone's getting pretty wasted during the festivities. Benedict had hoped that after not seeing Sophie for a considerable amount of time that perhaps things would have returned to normal between them, but as soon as he had laid eyes on her looking like this;

Benedict knew he was screwed - his feelings for her hadn't lessened at all, they had only intensified (and that's not to mention the fact that the reason Gen broke things off with him was because one night in bed it had been Sophie's name he had cried out in the heat of the moment).

She was perfectly pleasant when they were part of a group but anytime he saw her by herself in passing, she continued to keep her distance and avoid him. It frustrated Benedict to no end and as he watched her dancing about with Kate and Daphne on the sands to Dancing Queen, he became determined to resolve whatever it was that had made them drift apart.

He thought he would be able to catch her for a moment alone when she popped back to the hotel to fetch some more drinks but when he walked into the bar he found that she wasn't alone - she was sucking face with Michael.

Benedict had run back to the beach, feeling like he was on the verge of his heart ripping in two because of course Michael Stirling would help himself to Sophie. After all these years of friendship it only made sense that someone as gorgeous as Sophie and someone as hot as Michael would get together - Benedict would have been surprised it didn't happen sooner if it weren't for the bitterness threatening to choke him. Michael fucking Stirling could have his pick of every last woman in the world - why did he have to go for the one woman Benedict wanted more than anyone else?

When Colin offered him a beer, Benedict downed the whole bottle before demanding his brother fetch him some Firewhiskey. He continued to drown his sorrow with more and more alcohol, and when he found himself swaying on the spot he decided to sit along the shore. He let the water gently lap at his feet as he stared off into the distance, his stomach then churning when he recognised Michael out in the sea, his hands all over a woman. Benedict was almost prepared to torture himself by watching someone else fondle Sophie, wishing it was him instead, when he suddenly realised that the woman Michael was getting off with was wearing a neon pink bikini.

Benedict scrambled to his feet and hurried his way through the throng of party guests before tracking down Sophie knocking back a cocktail. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowds, bringing her to a secluded part of the beach around the corner from the rest of the party.

“What are you playing at, Ben?” she asked him once she wrangled her hand free of his.

“Sophie, I don’t know how to tell you this,” he exhaled, hating to be the one to tell her this and see her get upset.

“Tell me what?” Sophie pulled a quizzical frown.

“I... I saw Michael... getting off with another woman.”

Silence stilled between them, the music and the party enjoying themselves off in the distance. Sophie stared at Benedict and then snorted with laughter.

“Bloody hell, Ben, I thought you were going to say something serious!” she cackled.

“Sophie, he’s cheating on you!”

“What?” she squawked. “Cheating on me? What are you talking about? We’re not together!”

“I saw you making out with him!”

“Yeah, we’re makeout buddies.” she shrugged. “It’s what we do. Doesn’t mean we can’t get off with other people.”

Though dumbfounded by her response, Benedict immediately felt lighter; she wasn’t with Michael. There was still a chance -

“Anyway why would you care if Michael is making out with someone else?” Sophie asked.

“Because you’re my friend.” he replied. “I don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Pft! You’re such a hypocrite!”

Benedict glowered. “A hypocrite? Why am I a hypocrite?”

“Oh don’t play dumb!” Sophie dramatically scoffed in her inebriated state. “You’re such a hippo hippoey hypocrite, Ben!”

“Wait... are you calling me fat?” Benedict swallowed as the alcohol coursing through his body made him more prone to sensitivity.

“No, you idiot! You’re a hypocrite! You go around saying stuff and it’s shitty stuff and you don’t care what stuff is stuff someone else is going to be hurt to hear because you’re a hippogriff - no, wait, a hypocrite!”

Benedict was aware he was too drunk to truly follow anything Sophie was saying, not to mention the amount of times she had repeated the word “stuff” had left him confused.

“I’m... I’m not fat.” Benedict limply responded.

“Ugh! I know you’re not fat, you dumb whore!” Sophie staggered forward. “You’re sexy and you know it, Ben, so stop fishing for compliments, you stupid sexy man.”

Benedict’s mouth opened in shock - Sophie thought he was sexy. She had said it twice now. And if she thought he was sexy -

“Do ya think I’m sexy?” he grinned at her, eagerly awaiting her response.

“Ben!” she groaned irritably and butted her head into his chest, resting it there as she grumbled under her breath before looking up at him, her chin still against his body. “You’re so annoying! You know you’re sexy and I’m sick of it!” she whined and then splatted her hand over his mouth. “I mean all you have to do is stand there and you look sexy, it’s not fair! You’re so greedy! If you weren’t such a hippopotamus you would give me some of your sexy! Sharing is caring, Ben!”

Sophie thought he was sexy! She also thought he was a hippopotamus for some reason but the main takeaway was that she found him sexy! And she wanted him to give her some of his sexy!

He then licked her hand that was covering his mouth, startling her and making her drop her hand away as she stared at him incredulously.

“Why’d you do that?” she shouted.

He then grabbed the same hand, holding it to his face and then, whilst maintaining direct eye contact with her, pressed his lips against the palm of hand. He saw the moment Sophie tensed up, her eyes now conveying a want he had never witnessed before as goosepimples tickled her skin.

“Sharing is caring.” he echoed and kissed her hand again.

For a moment neither of them said anything or moved. Voulez Vous was pumping from further down the beach as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes. Benedict wasn’t entirely sure who moved first but in the next second her lips were on his, Sophie’s hands clutching his face as his arms held her tightly to him.

The intensity Benedict had felt during their first kiss several years ago was at long last replicated and burnt even more ferociously as their embrace deepened, their tongues mixing together, teeth clashing, and a moan emitting from Sophie’s throat. At some point they lost balance, stumbling down into the sand together, their kiss unyielding as Benedict rolled over until he was on top of her. One of her legs was wrapped around him, her foot nudging his bottom, as her hands caressed his chest, her fingers trailing across his muscles.

“Sophie.” he groaned as she began to nip at his collar.

It had never felt like this with anyone. The way he had kissed Tessa, Gen, and every other woman in his past paled in comparison to the way it felt to trade kisses with Sophie, to grope her, to be on top of her. He had wanted this for so long and he now knew she was all he’d ever want.

He kissed below her ear as he palmed her breasts, squeezing her nipples through her bikini top, smirking when she gasped his name out as a direct result of his wandering hands. His hand trailed further down her body, reaching her shorts, and he began unbuttoning them, needing to be even closer to her than he already was.

“Yes, Ben. Please.” she whined and surged up to meet his lips with a hunger-filled kiss.

It was only as he pulled down the zip of her shorts that Benedict realised how wrong this all was. It was all so very wrong. Sophie deserved better than a drunken fumble on the beach. She deserved to be of sober mind, as did he, and they should be in a bed, taking things slow and building up their desire, making it as tender and as intimate as possible. He wanted it to mean something when he first made love to her. Sophie Beckett deserved nothing but the best.

He dropped his hands away and pulled back from her kiss, hovering above her as she stared up at him in confusion.

“Sorry. I can’t do this.” he exhaled breathlessly. “Not with you, Soph.” he shook his head. “You -”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish as suddenly he found himself pushed off of Sophie as she scrambled to her feet.

“Soph,”

“No!” she cried down at him. “No, Ben! I can’t believe I let you do this to me again!” she choked and Benedict was astonished to see tears shooting down her face. “Why do you do this to me? Why do you make me feel like such an idiot? It’s not fair! And now you’ve ruined ABBA for me!”

“Sophie, I -” he tried to sit up, to ask her why she was suddenly so distraught, but she kicked sand in his face.

“I hate you!” she wailed. “All you ever do is hurt me!”

Benedict felt his heart lodged in his throat as he watched her storm off back to the party.

Sophie hated him? He made her feel hurt? What had he even done? Surely it was nothing more than a drunken cloud of confusion that made Sophie so suddenly upset.

He managed to get to his feet and hurried after her but when he rounded the corner she was already lost to him within the crowd. He searched in vain for her but to no avail and after twenty minutes made his way up to the hotel, hoping to find her there. When he reached the area where he knew her room to be he came across Phillip emerging from one of the rooms. Just as he went to ask him if he had seen Sophie, Phillip hauled him into another room and threw him down in a chair.

“Phil, what -”

“Stay away from her.”

Benedict was taken aback by Phillip’s stern tone of voice. He had only ever known his brother’s friend to be quiet and soft-spoken. Now Phillip’s low voice matched his towering figure, making him far more intimidating than he had ever been before.

“What?”

“How could you do that to her again?” Phillip snapped. “It was cruel enough the first time around - does Sophie mean nothing to you?”

“Of course she does!” Benedict argued - Sophie meant everything to him. “I’d never hurt Sophie,”

“And yet here we are again!” Phillip barked.

“Again? I don’t understand,”

“The Yule ball, Benedict.” Phillip stated bluntly.

The Yule ball?

“I don’t know,” Benedict began, trying to figure how on earth he had hurt Sophie, considering she was the one who asked him to forget about the kiss they had shared that had turned his world on its axis.

“You kissed her!” Phillip cut him off. “You kissed her and got her hopes up and then you turned around and told your mates that she was nothing more to you than your little brother’s friend and that you only brought her as your date because nobody else had asked her!”

Benedict felt his stomach plummet at this revelation. He had completely forgotten ever saying that to Henry and Wetherby and he had never realised that Sophie had overheard him. Suddenly it all became crystal clear why Sophie had kept her distance from him all these years, why she accused him of hurting her again, why she had called him a hypocrite when he told her he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“You were such a dick to her!” Phillip continued as Benedict processed this stunning information. “For starters there were plenty of guys who wanted to ask her to the ball - you were the one without a date! And you should have known better than to use her as a rebound to get over your ex!”

“She wasn’t a rebound.” Benedict said quietly - his family had believed his misery during the latter half of his seventh year had been because he was heartbroken over Tessa; but it was Sophie who he had been struggling to get over.

“And just when I thought she was finally over you, you go and do this to her?!” Phillip spluttered. “You have done nothing to deserve her love. If you had any respect for her you’d leave her the hell alone.”

Benedict wanted so desperately to explain that he only told her he couldn’t continue with what they had started on the beach because he wanted to treat her better, for their first time to be special, to explain how she meant more to him than anyone else. However he was hung up on what Phillip had just mentioned.

“What do you mean she was finally over me?” he gulped - had Sophie liked him?

“You’re so fucking dense!” Phillip exclaimed. “That poor girl has been in love with you from the first day you met!”

Benedict truly felt winded. If what Phillip was saying was true then that first kiss at the Yule ball had meant as much to her as it had to him, and probably even more if she had loved him for nearly five years before that. She had been in love with him and then heard him say she was nothing to him other than Colin’s friend. In that moment he realised just how badly he had hurt her - if he felt pained by having her scream how she hated him in his face, he couldn’t begin to imagine how wretched he had made her feel after she heard him say that after their life-changing kiss.

“I... I didn’t know,”

“No of course you didn’t!” Phillip lambasted.

“Please, let me talk to her.” Benedict begged him. “I need her to know how sorry I am. Phil, please, she means so much to me,”

“If she means so much to you then I’d hate to see how you treat those who don’t mean anything to you.”

“No please, you don’t understand, I lo-”

“No!” Phillip shouted. “You’re drunk and in no fit state to even understand what you’re saying! Just go to bed and leave her alone!”

The next day Benedict woke up with the world’s worst hangover, which only doubled over in pain when he remembered the events of the night before. As awful as he felt, he wanted to speak to Sophie, to apologise for everything and tell her how wrong he was for everything, and even beg her not to give up on loving him; not when he loved her back.

But by the time he finally arose at well past midday, Sophie and Phillip had already left the island on a boat trip and they wouldn’t be returning until after the portkey that had brought Benedict and the others there had taken them back home. He didn’t want to accept defeat but Benedict conceded that even if Sophie hadn’t flitted off that she wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say to her.

And so he was transported home, taking his overwhelming guilt and broken heart with him, wondering how on earth he could ever make things right with Sophie again and have her love him once more.

#asks #not me adding even more angst #also me: i will pepper in some mamma mia into this bridgerton harry potter au because i am ridiculous #and while i don't see lily james as sophie i couldn't resist that one look from mamma mia 2 #because my my how could benedict resist her #and yet again i know i haven't actually provided the details of how they actually get together in this au #but i will be providing that information soon #i just couldn't help but sprinkle a little more drama to proceedings #bridgerton drabble #harry potter au #benophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett

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