#Harry Potter fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 days

Text

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 7. year one: up to mid october, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x sirius black warnings for this chapter—sum swear & sirius being a prat word count—2.5k

a short awaited confrontation and a new friend.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

over the course of the month, it seems that the sight of you has become repulsive to sirius. he could not bear to look at you for more than it took to notice you in the crowd or to recognize your voice echoing before the body belonging to it reached him. he’d flee, usually, and refrain, in a completely un-sirius fashion, from making a gigantic scene. this would have been odd to you if only the pain of seeing his hastily retreating back wasn’t too much.

don’t be so harsh with me please, you’d want to tell him, i’ve done nothing but love you.

instead, “what. is. with. you,” and each word punctuated with an angry smack to his forearm. he glares, and he wiggles out the way of your unrelenting pursuit to beat him into submission. his friends watch frozen, stuck somewhere between amusement and desire to pull sirius back into the safe confines of the gryffindor tower. you will not allow them. not this time, at least, “you stuck up, insufferable—“

“piss off,” he nurses his bruises, though you aren’t strong enough to leave any.

you falter in your step, but the anger doesn’t die. he must know how his look wounds. he must. “piss off?” you parrot, and it rings much smaller and fainter than his had, “piss off? that’s all i get from you?”

“expect something different?” he bites, and bites, and bites, and he maims and mars until there is a thread between your hands and his heart thin as ivory wire. his eyes appraise and they dance and they hate, “why don’t you run back to your regulus.”

ah. there it is. the venom.

“sirius-“ james starts, and both of your glares cut him into two.

“shut up,” the both of you, again, together. you mirror his dark look and try to decide which words of the infinite welling quickly are most fitting. they sink with and through you; an anger and a hurt not meant to be felt by someone so inexperienced. when you and sirius argue, it is never as dire, even if it feels like it was. sirius never starts rows he cannot win, even if it’s him that loses most in the end, “family matter.”

james looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else but in the windy courtyard, shadowed by the cold arches of a loggia. peter, cheeks and ears burning, nervously rubs his hands together to dispel the cold. remus, already, is further ways down and watching, waiting for the rest to catch up. you won’t let them, not yet, not till you say your piece and abandon first, because father said the last word is always the winner.

you speak in french because you know he hates to hear it, because it reminds of home and you know he can’t stand home like he can’t stand you now, and it will hurt him, and it will make you happy, “regulus was right about you. you’ve become unthinkably cruel.”

he curls his lip, and it is with so much spite that it makes your teeth ache. his body rolls into itself, ready to explode and spit up his scorn all over your face. the insult must teeter on his tongue. you're more than ready for it. but something cracks and something flips and he reels back a bit, a show of restraint you thought him absent of.

"yeah, regulus, regulus always knows best, doesn't he?" your french mimicked in his mouth is dense, like syrup, "regulus, darling, regulus," a sneer that draws his lip to the high planes of his cheekbones, and a head tilting movement that is patronizing and obscene. it reminds you of his mother, "your regulus, isn't he the fucking best."

"he's not mine," you state tartly.

"hard to believe when he follows after you like a dog," he bites, and bites, and bites, but even through the layers upon layers, the soreness permeates and leaves you stricken into a stupor that only sirius can create, "listens and does everything you say. can't he think for himself. attached to your shoulder like some blithering pest."

you blink back the anger in your eyes. you are not going to cry, you tell yourself. if you do, then he will win, but he always does.

the boys stare at you. you don't know what to say. the feeling of it is tight and burns like an ulcer, "what has gotten into you? why do you hate me? i haven't-" your lips work through their turmoil, "-i haven't done anything to you."

he waves you off, dismissive. his hands tremble with some unspoken rage. "stop bothering me and go back to regulus. he's probably already looking for you."

the end of the conversation hangs heavily between you. sirius sniffs, and turns away in that blasé manner he always has with him, as if all life were a joke. his posture is too stiff and his features are too cold and he joins remus first as james and peter linger. you shake.

"i, uhm," james begins, but your glare silences him again. slowly, carefully, he nudges peter, "c'mon."

they leave, but james looks back. you miss it, head hung in defeat. your emotions threaten to burst free and splinter all over the stone. you think, in a hurry, how could you ever cover them up – with your hands, your body? is it the aftermath already, where everything is too obvious for pretence?

when it rains, it pours. it always has and you suspect it always will.

naturally, you are inconsolable. what a great big joke. no broom closet nor dusty cavern of the castle is familiar enough to hide in, and you cloak, despite its expanse, can hardly protect from sore eyes. the loo it is, locked in some stall and hiccupping. marzipan had mentioned finding a hufflepuff crying not a week in. she thought it amusing, and you did, too – who could ever abate decency and sob in the loo? what a terrible ploy for attention, had the girl expected consolation? no such could ever be found in marzipan, why, she said, and she said it proudly, she laughed quite loud and the crying stopped.

you would die on the spot if someone found you. it would feel like uncovering a horrible secret, being exposed in such a way. aren’t you a grown up? your birthday is soon, on a cold october night. grownups always breathe fine – besides your ditzy aunts – but you find there not being enough air. so much space and so little of it.

you fan yourself, and you heave, and in a tantrum you tussle out your cloak and throw it onto the gleaming white tiles. your cheeks burn and there’s an ache in the apex of your head. crying like this, over a boy, no less? sirius, of all? rabastan would point and laugh, point and laugh, point and laugh.

there’s a knock on your stall’s door and you nearly topple over in a scurry to silence yourself.

“hi, sorry,” the voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds kind, “are you alright?”

perfect, not only have you embarrassed yourself, you’ve aroused the suspicion of an idiot. there’s a gentle creak on the wood, as if a weight has settled. an ear, perhaps, pressed onto the surface, but for what?

you will your shaky hands to settle by your stomach. the fingers pinch and pool on the woollen fabric of your sweater. you gulp, but it gets stuck, and the silence stretches, so still.

“i-yes,” you manage. this won’t do, the tears cling to your mouth, “i’m, i'm okay.”

“do you need some water?”

if you weren’t so distraught, you’d delight at the curtsy. stupidity must be contagious because you shake your head.

“no, no,” you say after a pause.

“a tissue perhaps?”

“i'm fine,” seems you have managed to locate your wits. from some hellish depths, no doubt. swiftly, you retrieve your cloak, “thank you.”

“’s no worries,” the voice pipes. it belongs to a girl, you think, who doesn't budge, and, instead, waits. it seems your dramatics have riled someone. even the staff would scold your sorry condition, all snot and tears and shaking limbs – quite undignified, "can you tell me why you're crying?"

oh, merlin, how wonderful, the prodding and the poking and the horrible sympathy. are you so pitiable? perhaps. in this state. it's still hard to believe a complete stranger has found themselves so comfortable, "if i say i'm not crying will you go?"

the girl laughs, light and tittering. for a moment, it startles you, too, "not very likely."

the air remains stagnant, as if it's thick and spinning. the echoes of your sniffles bounce along the walls. you could tell her to piss off. you've heard it enough in the span of the last hour.

"i had a fight with my friend," you say eventually, "i think he hates me."

"did you do something to make him hate you?"

your forehead grazes the stall door. it leaves a cold spot and it makes you wince, "no."

"hmm," there is a sound of shuffling and more creaking, "well, then i wouldn't be very worried. he sounds like a dick, and what you need friends like that for?"

a great deal, actually. what did you think you were doing these years, clinging to his arm and curling into his bed when it rains? "what am i supposed to do?"

"beat him up, i imagine, and sort his sorry arse out."

you snort, though not very amused, "tried that."

"good start," you imagine her nodding and crossing her arms, "now, if i were you, i'd hex him into tomorrow and we'll never hear from him again."

"sounds wicked," you lament. the thought has crossed your mind, but revenge crumbles into some mushy, pitiful mess if you think on it too long.

"positively evil," she agrees. the silence returns, but it's comfortable, "i’ve got parchment in case you wanna practice curses."

a corner of your mouth quirks. your chest aches, but it's no longer full and painful, "that's alright, thank you."

"always wanted to be an accomplice," you hear the smile in her voice, "no trouble at all."

a final stretch of quiet. it allows you to breathe, really breathe, and pull yourself into order, as it were. it's no pretty sight, the state of you, but it no longer compares to how you first came in, a crying mess. when you open the stall, and face the girl for the first time, a kind face greets you. her brown skin is flush, hair twisted into two plaited horns that are gathered into a half bun, the rest pinned around her head. your nose twitches, itchy.

she grins, "there you are. no longer crying."

the cold from the running faucet burns against your cheeks. the face that peers back at you from the mirror is dishevelled. red-rimmed eyes and wet splotches all over. you grimace, "look like a sordid mess."

"well, yes, but, like a normal sordid mess. like, almost pretty normal," she stands behind. a red lion's emblem is embroidered into her uniform. she tilts her head, "like, i look way worse when i do it. at least you cry prettily."

"oh, you think so?" you turn to her, "no one's ever said that."

her nose wrinkles, but the mirth isn't gone from her eyes, "well, don't suppose you make a habit of sobbing in front of others. lest you wouldn't have barricaded yourself in the stall."

you hum, "quite the excellent point."

she flashes her teeth and nods proudly, "of course, got many," there's a slight silence where she appraises you, "you're lestrange, right? i've seen you in my classes," she asks as though she knows, and extends her hand for you to shake, "i'm dorcas. meadowes. gryffindor.”

“slytherin,” you respond, but shake her hand anyway.

“can tell,” dorcas says, that same lilt of a smile on her lips, “you wear it with pride.”

yes, of course, because that is what lestrange do. her family name is unrecognizable, but you don't think to wonder on it much further. her eyes are friendly and warm, and she takes to fixing the wayward strands of your hair while you dab a bit of tissue paper to your nose. a few seconds go by, and she glances at you from under the hair fallen onto her forehead, "i still have parchment, and we could still get you those curses down."

"haven't the ink to draw any, unfortunately," you reply.

"hm. next time then," dorcas decides for herself, and makes for the door, "think a walk to the kitchens might be in order?" she leaves her invitation open-ended, her gaze expectant, "could use a warm cinnamon bun."

you wonder about her, dorcas meadowes, with the shiny dark eyes and plaits and how well she talks to strange girls who cry in bathroom stalls. "alright," you accept, the smile on your face not as strained, nor sad, nor angry, "lead the way."

61 notes · View notes

thatslytherinbitch54 · 15 hours

Text

It should be a crime to get this close without kissing:

SMH

54 notes · View notes

run-time · 20 hours

Text

#bella thorne #solas #malleus draconia #tolkien #harry potter fandom #fifth harmony #michael jackson #gojo satoru smut #halloween #4chan #leighton meester #reaper76 #rich

122 notes · View notes

im-actually-a-certified-idiot · 2 days

Text

#polls #harry potter poll #golden trio #harry james potter #hp #hjp #ron weasley #hermione granger #harry potter fandom

42 notes · View notes

april-showersmay-flowers · 10 hours

Text

James Potter and Lily Evans, aka the hottest head girl and boy Hogwarts had ever seen.

#fanart #harry potter fanart #james potter #lily evans #yes these are both based on models can you tell #sketch #harry potter fandom

29 notes · View notes

pssherri · 3 days

Text

commissions are open ! again

hi, my phone died suddenly and I need to get it repaired soon:(

you can buy a commission from me, all the details are in the photo (or write to me in DM!) will be very grateful for the reblog

33 notes · View notes

t1oui · 24 hours

Text

@jegulus-microfic | april 25th | headlights | 1,222 words | cw: mentions of a car accident, hospitals, mentions of smoking (nothing graphic)

Regulus tries so hard to think that Sirius is an idiot. That bloody thing'll kill you, he remembers saying. Sirius had only laughed. No one's laughing now.

It was just a Friday night. Regulus got home from work late and was looking forward to doing nothing until Monday morning. Was looking forward to being alone, sitting around with popcorn and staring at the telly until he fell asleep. Now, the idea of a simple night in feels light years away.

He never gets what he wants.

Sitting on a stiff white chair outside Sirius's room at St. Mungo's, Regulus's leg bounces up and down at a frantic pace, mind racing. Didn't he see the headlights? Didn't he try and stop? It wasn't his fault, they said. Regulus's older brother is in a hospital bed and he wants to strangle the idiot who put him there.

Remus is sitting across from him, eyes red-rimmed and body curled in around himself. He arrived before Regulus. Pettigrew was pacing until Remus yelled at him and he mumbled something about getting a coffee.

It feels like hours before Potter arrives. Regulus and Remus are only taking up two of maybe eight seats crowded into the hallway, but James sits right next to him. He's crying, too busy looking at his phone to pay Regulus any mind beside him.

"Why are you here?" Regulus grumbles. He sounds like shit. The corridor is far too bright for someone who wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. James glances up at him, looking confused and distressed and tired. God, Regulus is so fucking tired.

"My best friend is... he's...." James gestures helplessly to the room behind them. They're not whispering, but their voices are hoarse. Remus isn't paying attention anyway - he's been staring into space for hours now. "He's in there."

"No," Regulus says, shaking his head in frustration. He hates when people don't understand him. "Why are you... here. There's so many seats."

James stares at him for a moment. He still holds his phone in his lap - if Regulus looks closely, he can see the name Lily written across the top of the screen with a pink flower beside it. James opens his mouth to speak, but Regulus interrupts him, pointing to the phone.

"That's a hibiscus flower, you know."

"What?" James doesn't sound like he's actually processing anything Regulus is saying. Regulus presses his finger next to Lily's contact name. He remembers her from school. He never liked her much.

"The flower here," he says. "It's not a lily. It's a hibiscus."

James sniffles, shrugging helplessly. "There's no lily emoji," he says. "This one's good enough."

Regulus doesn't say that he thinks that's sort of stupid. He's too tired to, and he knows James doesn't really care. Who does?

"I don't want to be lonely," James tells him. Regulus stares at his ear.

"What?"

"You asked," James says, shrugging again. He shrugs a lot. "Why I sat next to you."

Regulus looks up, glances over to Remus. He's managed to gather all of his limbs up onto the small hospital chair and is staring into space, eyes glazed over, arms wrapped around his knees. "Why didn't you sit next to him?"

James's answer comes so quiet that he has to lean closer to hear. "I'd still be alone."

Regulus stares at him. "Oh." He wonders where Pettigrew's gotten off to. Wonders if Lily will come to take James home, will gather Remus into the car too. Wonders who will take him home now that the motorcycle he hates so much is nothing more than a pile of scraps, its owner not much more.

"D'you wanna see a picture of my cat?" James asks. Regulus looks back at him. James is tilting his phone towards Regulus, even though he never answered, and Regulus finds himself leaning closer again to look. His cheek brushes James's shoulder, and he expects James to tense up - they barely know each other. James is probably humoring him, but his best friend's weird little brother leaning his head on his shoulder is probably the last straw. James is just being nice because he's sad. Last Regulus heard, he has a pretty girl and a son waiting for him at home.

But James leans into the touch. Regulus is too tired to pull away. (Part of him doesn't want to pull away. He tells this part to be quiet.)

"Her name's Leo," James says, holding up his phone to reveal a small gray tabby. The smile is evident in his voice, which is soft and close to Regulus's ear. It sounds like a lullaby. "Harry named her."

"Leo," Regulus says softly. James's curls are tickling his cheek. It's not an unpleasant feeling - it reminds him of walking barefoot over grass on a sunny day.

"Like the constellation," James explains. "It's Haz's favorite. 'Course, he is a Leo, so he's a bit biased there...."

Regulus glances down and notices his fingers loosely intertwined with James's. He doesn't remember doing that.

"Leo's the constellation -" he begins.

"Your star," James replies. He sighs softly, content but a little shaky. "Yeah."

They're both silent for a while. It's weirdly comfortable, even in the buzzing hospital, even with Remus sitting numb across from them and Sirius laying unconscious behind them and Peter knocking around, probably smoking the pack of cigarettes Regulus saw him slip out of Remus's pocket before he disappeared.

"Is Lily going to pick you up?" Regulus asks.

"She has Harry tonight," James says instead of answering. It only leaves Regulus with more questions.

"I thought..." Regulus begins, but he doesn't know what he thinks, not really. James seems to, though.

"We broke up," he says simply. He shrugs a little, only one shoulder, trying not to jostle Regulus's head. "Few years ago."

Regulus is quiet for a while. He remembers school, seeing James's golden-brown arm wrapped around Lily's pale shoulders. He remembers a pang of pain at the sight, feels it now, a dull ache located deep within his chest. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says, but he doesn't sound sincere.

"Don't be," James says. He's turned his head, and his lips brush just barely against Regulus's forehead. He should pull away, but instead, he just closes his eyes. "She's my best friend."

Regulus squeezes James's hand. "I'm glad you're here," he whispers.

James squeezes back. "I'm glad you're here, too," he replies.

He sets his phone down on his lap, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a jumbled ball of headphones. He tries for a minute or so to untangle them one-handed before finally sighing and pulling his fingers out from between Regulus's, pulling the earbuds into his phone. He hands one to Regulus.

"Put it in," he says, watching Regulus do nothing.

"Why?" Regulus asks.

"It's too... something in here."

Regulus gives him a small smile as he puts the earbud in. It fits weird, but not uncomfortable weird like he remembers. Just different. As he settles his head back onto James's shoulder, a soft melody begins to play into his ear. James sets the phone down on his knee before taking Regulus's hand again, resting his head against Regulus's curls. Regulus takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

Maybe this night won't be as long as he thought.

23 notes · View notes

autumnweeen · 2 days

Text

WIP Wednesday Dramione

I’m here once again trying to convince you to read this fic. It deserves so much more attention than it has gotten! Not only because of the amount of work that ellieauthor has put into formatting all the chats and creating all the amazing conversations between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, but also, THE WRITING!!! The writing is simply spectacular ♥️

#harry potter fandom #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #fanfiction #ao3fic #harry potter #ao3 fanfic #eighth year #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #txt socmed au #draco pov

21 notes · View notes

gracexthoughts · 1 day

Text

of violent delights chap 22

the champions

31 october 1996

Mattheo’s POV

“It’s not going to wooork!” Granger calls in a sing-song voice as the Twins soak in the scattered applause from the other students around, ready to submit their names. The Goblet of Fire has been set up towards the front of the Great Hall, the tables pushed back and squished together to accommodate the large cup and magical age line surrounding it.

“C’mon, ‘Mione!” One twin groans.

“Have a little faith,” adds the other, which I think is George. Mia has been trying to show me how to tell them apart and if they would stand still I probably could do it.

“She’s right,” Mia says from my side. It’s a Saturday so Mia and I went to Hogsmeade for lunch and as we were entering the castle on our way back, the Twins were running into the Great Hall like they were about to win a race. “You didn’t account for the age line.” The Twins turn to look at her eyebrows raised.

“This right here, is an age line,” Mia says, pointing to the silvery blue boundary that encircles the Goblet.

"Dumbledore drew it himself!" Granger says, seeming very pleased that Mia agrees with her.

“I highly doubt Dumbledore’s magic can be fooled by a dodge as obvious as an aging potion," adds Mia.

“Ah! But that’s why it's so genius, Phe,” Fred says; I can tell it's Fred because he steps so close to Mia that I have to make an effort not to push him back. Fred is much more physically affectionate with Mia than George and while I trust Mia, I can’t help the jealousy that flairs in my chest for the guy that knows my girlfriend better than I may ever be able to.

“Because it's so obvious that they would assume no one would try it!” George answers.

“By all means, if it works then you can brag for the rest of the year about how genius you both are,” Mia laughs at her friends and the Twins high five, drink their potions, and turn to the Goblet, very slowly and carefully stepping over the age line, which bends against the legs but does let them pass. Mia bites her bottom lip as she watches it all happen and my mind wanders as I watch her for a moment, no longer interested in the Twins but rather focusing on my jumping her right here.

My focus is pulled from Mia’s lips as the Twins shout and fly over the crowd surrounding the Goblet and land hard on the floor. I follow my girlfriend as she pushes her way through the crowd frantically only to see Fred and George fighting on the floor as old men. Mia fails to stifle a laugh and I don’t even try not to bust out laughing as the Weasley Twins, in their new found old age, wrestle and yell at each other on the floor of the Great Hall. Eventually, Mia sighs and steps forward, lightly kicking their sides until they release each other.

“Not to say I told you so but-”

“Mia, you gotta help us fix it!” One of them begs, their voice cracking as they stand, rubbing their back as if it pains them. Well, they are elderly now I guess.

“What? How is this my fault? I think you both look rather dashing,” Mia teases, clearly trying hard not to bust out laughing again. “I’ll walk with you to Pomphrey,” she adds before turning to me. “Met up after the feast?”

“Sounds good, princess. Good luck with the grandads,” I press a small kiss to her forehead before she turns and shoves the elderly Twins forward, the three of them leaving with their laughter echoing in their wake.

“Can’t believe you’re dating her,” Draco’s voice sneers from my side and I turn to face my cousin, his hair reflecting the blue flames coming out of the Goblet.

“Bugger off, Draco,” I grumble, turning back to see Krum throw his name into the Goblet as well, all the girls in the room admiring him as he turns and leaves.

“Father was surprised, of course, but sounds like your mother wasn’t. Although, he supposed it could be a very clever ruse. Breaking the heart of The Girl Who Lived, a small revenge for the death of a father,” Draco continues. Like a little brother, he has always loved winding me up, and unfortunately, I’m an easy man to anger.

“You and your father need to keep your noses out of my life,” I snap, turning and shoving the smaller boy slightly, causing him to stumble back a step. “You leave the Potters alone.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” He cries indignantly but before I can respond, Ella appears by his side.

“C’mon Dray, don’t lower yourself by fussing with blood traitors,” she coos cruelly, her dark eyes narrowed at me angrily. I clench my jaw at the insult but I don’t rise to their taunts.

“Come off it, Elladora,” Enzo says, appearing at my side with his arms crossed. Theo appears on my other side and gratitude floods in me for my two best friends. Ella and Draco roll their eyes and sneer as they turn their backs and leave the Great Hall whispering intently.

“Malfoy-Riddle holidays are gonna get super fun for you,” Theo comments, trying to break tension, and I grunt in acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry about them, Matt,” Enzo says calmly.

“Easy,” I respond simply. “You guys want a smoke?” I ask, wanting to escape to the Astronomy Tower and ignore the rest of the world.

“Yeah, let’s go. Tired of this display anyway,” Theo nods and the three of us exit the Great Hall and make our way towards the tower.

✦

“The time has come to select our Triwizard Tournament champions!” Dumbledore announces, stepping down from the teachers table towards the Goblet of Fire, his hand outstretched as he dims the torches around the Hall.

“Ah, here we go,” Evan mutters, turning in his seat so he can watch, leaning his back against the table. I catch Mia’s eye at the next table over and she smiles, scrunching her nose adorably before turning back around to watch the choosing ceremony. “Once the champions' names are called, please come up to the top of the Hall and proceed into the next chamber and await your instructions,” Dumbledore motions towards a door to the side of the teachers table.

The entirety of the hall waits in tense excitement as the Goblet of Fire begins shining more brightly, so bright it's almost painful to look too closely at it. Suddenly, the flames turn bright red and jump up to a height of a foot or so and a burned piece of parchment flutters down and Dumbledore catches it easily. “The Durmstrang champion is… Victor Krum!”

Applause echoes through the halls for the Bulgarian Seeker as he stands and sweeps up towards the table and is congratulated by Karkaroff before he disappears through the door.

“No surprise there,” Enzo mutters back to Theo and I as the flames just up again and spit out another paper.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is… Fleur Delacour!” A lithe blonde girl stands from amongst the sea of blue silk uniforms, looking quite proud, and saunters up to Dumbledore before continuing in Krum’s path as the student body cheers, especially the boys.

“Oh man,” Evan says as he leans back to watch Fleur as she walks, adding a low whistle to punctuate his sentence. Astoria reaches over the table and smacks Evan on the back of his head. The French girl is beautiful for certain, but it seems I am one of the only ones not fawning over her.

Just as Fleur disappears, the goblet shoots the third and final paper. “The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!” The Slytherins around me groan, but Hufflepuff explodes in uproar as they cheer for their champion.

“What a pretty boy,” Theo mutters but I’m focused on Mia as Diggory smiles and nods at Mia as he passes her, his eyes lingering longer than on anyone else he passes. I see George and Fred glaring at him and I’m glad someone else agrees that the newly appointed Hogwarts champion should stay far away from my girl.

“That’s it!” Dumbledore yells, the students quieting down as Diggory slips through the door. “We now have our three champions, and I’m sure the rest of you will be very supportive.” The Headmaster falters in his speech as the Goblet begins sparking and the flames turn red and shoot out a fourth paper.

Dumbledore, looking quite bewildered, reaches for the paper and squints at it. He murmurs a name but I’m sitting too far away to hear it but the students up front begin whispering rapidly and looking towards the Gryffindor table.

“... Potter,” my blood runs cold at the last name, although I didn’t catch the first name I’m terrified for Mia. She never said she found a way to enter, she didn’t even seem like she wanted to. “HARRY POTTER!” Dumbledore roars louder, interrupting my thoughts and relief floods my chest, soon followed by guilt.

For a moment no one moves. My eyes find Mia a table over, seemingly frozen in time with wide eyes. She doesn’t move until Harry passes her on his way up to Dumbledore, and even I can tell Harry doesn’t understand what’s happening. At the sight of her brother, Mia moves suddenly, like her brain was struggling to process information but now that it has she jumps up from her seat.

“Headmaster, it must be a mistake!” She calls and Harry looks back to his sister, the fear and confusion in her eyes mirrored in his near identical ones. Mia steps over her seat, trying to go after her brother, but one of the Weasley Twins, I can’t tell which from here, stands and pulls her back. She struggles against him as she watches her brother take the parchment from Dumbledore and walk dazed towards the door. Evan, Enzo, Theo and Astoria all look at me with varying degrees of confusion.

“How did he get past the Age Line?” Evan whispers but I’m not listening. I don’t listen to Dumbledore as he dismisses us either because all I’m aware of is the terror on Mia’s face. Students begin standing around me and I push my way through the crowd to try and reach Mia.

Mia doesn’t stay put though, she begins pushing her way towards Dumbledore, who is speaking to McGonagall next to the goblet. I’m a few steps behind Mia as she reaches the professors.

“Headmaster! How is this possible? Harry didn’t enter, he couldn’t have!” She cries and I can hear the panic in her voice as I step up behind her, the Twins next to me now as well.

“Miss Potter, please,” Dumbledore says placatingly but Mia forges ahead.

“You can’t let him compete! He’s only sixteen!”

“We will do everything we can to ensure-”

“I’ll compete for him!” Mia interrupts again, and I share a glance with the Twins. “I’ll be 19 in a few months, please! You have to let me take his place, he’s not-

“Miss Potter!” Dumbledore snaps, halting Mia in her tracks. “Please, let us handle it and you can come speak to me about it tomorrow if you still wish,” and with that Dumbledore turns around and sweeps back towards the teacher’s table, followed by Karkaroff, Madam Maxine, and an entourage of Hogwarts teachers.

“Professor, please, I’ll do anything if it means Harry doesn’t have to do this. There has to be a way,” Mia begs of McGonagall, whose face is grave. McGonagall reaches out and puts a hand on Mia’s shoulder.

“I know you’re frightened, Miss Potter, but there is not much that can be done tonight. I will speak with the Headmaster and you and I can speak tomorrow. For now, just go on back to the common room, and be there for your brother,” McGonagall squeezes Mia’s shoulder and gives her a small, reassuring smile before turning and following after Dumbledore.

Mia watches her go for a moment before turning back to me, Fred and George. Her beautiful green eyes are wide with fear and her bottom lip is trembling.

“C’mon, Mia. Let’s go back to the common room, I’m sure Harry will be back up there soon,” Fred says calmly. The Great Hall is almost completely empty now save us and a few stragglers.

Mia turns her eyes to me, “Will you com-”

“Of course, Mia. C’mon,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and I lead her out of the Great Hall behind the Twins, the last people in the Hall eyeing Mia suspiciously.

As we enter the Gryffindor Common Room, students shoot us looks, emotions ranging from suspicion to hatred. I mean, every time I’m anywhere near Gryffindor Tower I get plenty of wary stares and glares but I’ve never seen this reaction for Mia. Mia begins to follow Fred and George to the couches where the rest of her and Harry’s friends sit but she looks around for a moment at the rest of the room, her jaw ticking.

“I have to go write to Remus and… I have to go write to Remus,” she says in the general direction of the circle of friends and then continues through the room, her head held high. I follow after her and find her frantically searching through the piles on her desk.

Something I’ve learned about Mia in the last two months, she’s kinda messy. I mean she’s brilliant and seems to have a system, but she’s also a little chaotic. Typically, every surface in her dorm room is littered with books and quills and parchment and the occasional dirty coffee cup. It doesn't help that her friends are in here all the time as well, I'm sure, but she doesn't seem to mind.

I close the door gently as Mia manages to find a quill and some clean parchment. She leans over her desk, perched on the very edge of her chair as she furiously scribbles out a letter.

“Mia…” I say gently, placing my hands on her shoulders.

“One sec,” she mutters, pushing one paper addressed to Remus Lupin, her godfather, away and switching to a second piece of parchment and starting a second letter.

“Who’s Padfoot?” I ask curiously, having never heard the name before.

“Nobody,” she mutters distantly and I sigh, backing up a few steps. I stand in the middle of the room, my mind running a hundred miles a minute at who the hell she’s writing to. I grit my teeth as I try to control my jealousy and worries. After another minute of the scratching of her quill she stands and moves to grab her cloak.

“Woah, where are you going?” I ask, stepping in front of her.

“Owlery, I have to send these,” she says, not looking at me. Once Mia gets her mind set on something, not much can stop her.

“Mia, just stop for a second and think! It’s dark and Harry will probably be back any minute. You can send them tomorrow!” I say, still blocking her path.

“Mattheo, stop! Let me go! They have to know! I need their help!” Mia yells as panic starts to overtake her again.

“No! Mia, just take a breath!”

“Get out of my way!”

“No!” I yell, and put my hand out towards her, without thinking, and she flinches. “Oh fuck, Mia. Princess, I’m sorry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” I say, lowering my voice and my hand slowly. My heart breaks as I look at my girlfriend looking at me like a cornered animal.

“No, I know. I’m sorry,” Mia says, dropping her gaze to the floor and shaking her head. I hesitantly take a few steps forward until I’m standing toe to toe with her and reach out, lifting her chin so she looks up at me.

“Don’t apologize. What they did to you is not your fault and I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just… worried about you,” I say earnestly, cupping her face as a tear spills over her eyelashes. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, pulling her into a hug and, finally, she relents into my embrace, shaking as sobs wrack her body. “You’re safe, baby, no one’s gonna hurt you.”

After a few minutes, Mia takes a deep breath and steps back, moving to sit on her bed and I follow, sitting next to her. “Padfoot is Harry’s godfather… Better known as Sirius Black,” Mia says quietly.

“What?” I say, surprised and turn to look at Mia.

“I’m gonna explain, it's a long story though, so just hang on, okay?” Mia says, setting the letters down on her nightstand and leaning abc against the headboard. I nod and lean against one of the posts of her bed, watching her intently as she tells me the story of her second to last night of fifth year. How she and Harry found out that Sirius Black is innocent and the person who betrayed her parents was actually Peter Pettigrew, who had been hiding as the Weasley family rat.

“We write to him as Padfoot in case the Ministry intercepts one, so… yeah,” Mia finishes with a sigh and I can’t help but laugh, a memory resurfacing suddenly. “What? I’m telling the truth!”

“No, I believe you, I just… So at that party last year when I asked if you had anything to do with Sirius Black escaping, well I just never thought you actually had!” I laugh, and after a moment Mia laughs too.

“Bloody hell, I forgot about that,” she laughs, but too soon the levity fades from her face, worry creeping back in. I move to lay next to her and pull her into my embrace. She lays her head over my chest and wraps her arms tightly around my waist as I do the same around her shoulder, holding her close to me.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I whisper into her hair, rubbing circles on her arm. “We’ll figure it out.” I hold her like this until her breathing evens out and she slips down into her dreams.

✦

The first thing I notice when I wake, is Mia is nowhere to be found.

a/n; ayo new banner!! i was spending way too much time trying to find the perfect gifs so i decided to make a banner instead. the amount of time i spent on those stupid letters is kinda ridiculous

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @abaker74 @stxrsberkshire

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #matteo riddle #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hp fanfic #hogwarts houses #wizarding world #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys #goblet of fire #of violent d #of violent delights

25 notes · View notes