#fun drinking game: take a shot every time i use the words ‘foul legacy’ to refer to both legacy himself and childe’s past / reputation

[crowkingwrites]

Amortentia

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Request:  Can you do a sequel of Foto Hera? Ramsay pretend for the reader he cheated her with Miranda, to make the reader assumes their relationship, but instead she breaks up? In the end, she could find out about his false cheating and slaps him In the face then kiss him rough at the crowded great hall? I love your writing! I always get happy when I see youve wrote something new, its helping me a lot to deal with my depression. I pray things work out for you, so you can be happy as you make us. XOXO

Written for: Anon

LINK TO FOTO HERA

Words: 3614  //  [Ao3 Link] // Warnings: None (Ramsay Bolton is his own warning.)

Muggle students make mischief on Halloween by tricking their friends, TP’ing each other’s homes, or maybe lighting shit on fire for the victim to smell. Young witches and wizards from Hogwarts gather together and stay awake all night to celebrate the wonderful holiday. You were more than willing to join the fun.

Although your family wouldn’t approve of you stepping a toe out of line, you couldn’t care less. Ramsay was more than willing to take you in and away from your family. You always said under your breath, ‘Slytherins have more love in their hearts than Gryffindors have in their toes.’

You sat among some friends and some frenemies in the girl’s bathroom on the fifth floor. No ghosts haunted here, and why would they? All of you were loud and jinxed the door for any professor who tried to get in. The lot of you sat cross legged on the bathroom floor listening to Wizard Rock and drinking potions which had affects you didn’t prepare for.

Bubbles came out of your mouth in different colors and flavors. Some pink bubblegum, others a gray vinegar. Margaery laughed and giggled. She took a sip herself and produced a large purple bubble which smelled like lavender. You inhaled the lavender and opened your eyes to see Ramsay and Myranda leaning together on the wall. Myranda whispered something in Ramsay’s ear and he laughed.

You weren’t the jealous type, but seeing Myranda next to him made your skin crawl and your stomach twist. Lately, Ramsay had been avoiding you after a nasty blow up between you both about Robb Stark (again). He had proven to be a good friend and nothing more. Still, Robb listened and understood your problems. He was emotional support where Ramsay lacked in that area. He was overprotective of you, but Ramsay found it hard to listen to you constantly cry over the future.

You carefully watched Ramsay and Myranda interact. Where he would point and say something to her, she would laugh and nod as if she was agreeing to whatever he said. She would point at another person, say something under her breath, and Ramsay would smirk agreeing to what he said. It was their own secret little game they played. And you hated it. You weren’t the only one to notice how close they were.

“They’re cozy,” Margie mentioned to you. “Think they’re hooking up?”

“No,” you said coldly. “They’re not a thing.” Argie took a good look at you and shrugged.

“Not what I heard,” Margie said aloud, hoping to share more gossip. You kept your eyes on the pair, feeling sick.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You held your constitution. Ramsay and your relationship was still secret to all of your friends. Marge shifted closer to you. Your eyes stayed on Myranda and Ramsay. Ramsay met your glance and spoke into Myranda’s ear.

“I heard they hooked in the Slytherin common room and then that spot near the kitchens…”

Margie’s voice started to fade. You watched Myranda give a quick kiss to Ramsay on the cheek and leave the bathroom. Ramsay watched you the entire time. You felt your stomach tighten in knots and folds. As if your heart dropped in to your lap and you inhaled salt water. It hurt and it stung. You didn’t want it to be true, but most of Margie’s gossip was true.

You didn’t want to hear it anymore. You could hear Margie calling out your name, but your vision was blurry. Other friends turned to see you pushing your way between them. Some got out of the way, others called out your name. It didn’t matter. You needed to get out of the bathroom now. Your heart beat in your throat so loud that you couldn’t feel yourself breathe.

You pushed your way out the door and into the hallway. Two first years ran past with bags of candy and tricks they had.

“Y/N,” you heard behind you. You turned to see Ramsay with his Slytherin tie undone and around his neck. You wanted to strangle him with it. You felt the warm wetness down your cheeks and huffed. Not knowing what to say or do, you walked away from him. Your stomping footsteps were like thunder. Each booming step was followed by another. That is, until you heard another set of footsteps behind you.

You knew exactly who was following you. If he wanted to talk, you’d let him talk. You swerved into another dark hallway one where ghosts would lurk. And waited for him to turn. Once you saw the first flash of silver and green, you grabbed at it and pushed him against the wall.

Ramsay wasn’t surprised, but calm. He waited for you to loosen your grip, but you never did. You kept using all of your angry strength and kept him there pinned to the wall.

“Tell me you didn’t,” you managed to say in a smaller voice than you wanted.

“What if I did? Would it matter?”

“What do you mean would it matter? Are you kidding me? Of course it matters!” you pushed him. Ramsay’s back hit the wall. He still wasn’t fazed.

“Does it matter enough to tell everyone about us?” Ramsay said it. The thing that both of you always went back to in every argument. You took a step back and put your hands to your face.

“Ramsay, we can’t—

“We can’t what? Tell anyone? How long do you plan on keeping this a secret? Or maybe I’m not good enough for your pureblood family and friends,” Ramsay accused.

“That’s not it, Ramsay.”

“Then what is it? Why?”

“Is this why you cheated? To know why?” You sighed. This was exhausting. There was Robb, then the hiding, and now this? Cheating? You weren’t sure how to handle this anymore. You didn’t want this anymore. “I am an heir to fortune and a legacy. I told you this when we started talking. I have to be with the right people. I have to be friends with the right people.”

“And I’m not the ‘right people’?” Ramsay put in his own air quotes.

“No, you’re not,” you answered firmly. “Being with you was a mistake. I see that now.” Ramsay opened his mouth and closed it. His mouth formed a firm line. You took another deep breath and let the silence fill up the empty space between you. Inside, you could feel your stomach churning and your heart breaking.

You walked away from Ramsay hearing no protest from him. While everyone else screamed and laughed in the joy of Halloween, you dragged yourself back to your own bed. After shedding your clothes and your hot skin touched the cool sheets, your red eyes shut so easily. Sleep was merciful to the heartbroken sometimes. She came over you so gently and quietly that you didn’t even notice her until the next morning when the sun peeked through the Gryffindor Tower windows.

Margie dragged you out of bed to go watch the first Gryffindor and Slytherin match of the season. She painted a red and gold heart on your left cheek. She put on your beanie that you magically knitted yourself. You were very proud of it as it was your first try and magical knitting. Margie’s beanie was lopsided, but you happily turned it into a cute purse for her.

Both of your boots clicked up the wooden stairs and onto the platform where most of your Gryffindor friends were, including Robb.

“Y/N! You’re here! I was afraid I wouldn’t see you. You rushed out the party last night so quickly. What happened?” You smiled to yourself. Robb Stark was too good of a friend to you.

“We can talk about it later.”

“Are you sure? I saw you crying. Who made you cry?” Robb’s tone turned serious.

“It’s fine, really,” you nodded and touched your friend’s arm. “Later. I’ll tell you later.”

Robb sighed and looked to the skies. “Oi! There’s my boy! JON!” Jon’s number flew past you so quickly you almost missed him. He put himself into his seeker position. Jon Targaryen and Robb Stark were cousins. Robb was proud of his Hogwarts alum family. Ned Stark earned honorable awards during his time at Hogwarts. Lyanna Stark, Jon’s mother, started a dueling club and ultimately met her love through dueling him. Robb leaned over to you.

“You know, there’s scouts here today. They’re watching him. Some think he’s the next Viktor Krum.”

“Viktor Krum?” Margie budded in. She shot a look at Jon. “He’s certainly just as handsome.”

You rolled your eyes. Margie would flirt her way to top, and you weren’t joking. Robb laughed along with her. Each of you watched the skies for the Slytherin team to take their places. Myranda’s number four visible to your eye. A bat in one hand, and her lucky charm in the other: a necklace she wrapped around her hand. Your face flushed looking at her. What’s worse is that someone noticed.

“You alright?” Margie asked in between bites of popcorn.

“I don’t know if I should be here,” you confessed. The second beater took his place next to Myranda. His back was straight, but his eyes were blank. His quidditch uniform was in perfect condition. Bolton, printed in an arch over the number six. A beautifully made green and silver beanie was on top of his head. The same beanie you gave him as a present for his birthday.

Margie pointed towards the beanie, noting its good stitching. “That looks like you made it.”

“I didn’t make that,” you answered a little too quickly.

“Are you sure because—

“Nope. I didn’t make that. Why would I make a hat for Ramsay Bolton? He’s a foul-mouthed mudblood who truly is a Slytherin through and through. Nothing more. He doesn’t deserve a handmade hat.” You looked to Margie who was mid-bite and Robb who looked at you confused.

“Ramsay made you cry?” Robb asked.

“No!” you protested. “I don’t care about him. I hope he loses. I hope he falls and breaks something.”

“That’s a lot of hate for someone. That’s bad magic,” Robb told you. “Especially right before the game starts.”

“Whatever,” you crossed your arms and looked to Ramsay again. His chest rose and fell, and then he adjusted his handmade beanie. Technically, he was out of uniform, but so was the rest of the team. Slytherin adopted a new quirk to their quidditch technique. Since the Malfoy-funded brooms in the 90’s, the Slytherin team adopted “lucky charms”. Sometimes they were brooms. Sometimes they were shoes with well-wishes or autographs from professional players on them. Myranda’s was her father’s necklace. Ramsay’s was the hat you made for him.

The game went off without a hitch. Jon Targaryen flew right into action, seeing the snitch no less than ten minutes into the game. The game was tied 40 to 40 when you watched Ramsay tried to aim for a Gryffindor chaser but he missed and almost flew into the one of the towers. He caught a hold of his broom and straightened himself out again. You heard an annoyingly familiar voice over the speakers.

“Look at him! He’s doing terribly out here, folks!” Joffery Baratheon laughed over the speakers. “Usually Ramsay’s ruthless! Not today!” You heard him say more nasty comments, but Joffery was right. You looked to Ramsay who kept playing the game, but his eyes were still empty of anything. Usually, he enjoyed being the beater. Ramsay hit the bludger towards one of his teammates. Luckily, the chaser dodged it and continued for the goal.

Jon and the Slytherin seeker went at it and battled each other for the snitch. Your eyes kept focused on Ramsay who didn’t seem focused. He kept almost flying into things and almost fell off his broom entirely. You gasped which earned you looks from your friends who noticed. You watched Robb whispered something to Margie. She only shrugged and looked at you in concern.

The match continued on. 120-90 in Gryffindor’s favor. Jon twirled and turned to trick the Slytherin seeker where he was going. It was a smart move, but it had gone unnoticed by you. While everyone cheered, your eyes stayed on Ramsay who collided with the Gryffindor keeper and both of them fell off their brooms. Their bodies sped towards the ground and you started to scream and point.

The next thing you knew you lurked next to the hospital wing, waiting for something. A piece of news, a loud conversation, anything that would tell you how Ramsay was. You watched Myranda leave in a hurry. Before you could follow her, you felt fingers on your shoulder. You jumped and turned to see Robb who was just as scared as you.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he apologized. “What are you doing here? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Stalking Slytherin qudditch players outside the hospital wing is nothing?”

“Who said I was stalking the Slytherin quidditch players? I happen to be very concerned for Dickon Tarly.” Robb shot you a look.

“You’re very concerned about Dickon?” Robb crossed his arms, and you looked away. Lying wasn’t your best feature. “What’s this about, Y/N?”

“Later.”

“That’s what you said at the game. It’s later right now. What happened? Who made you cry like that? I promise you that Jon and I can beat up anyone you name.”

You took Robb aside and made your way towards the main courtyards in Hogwarts. You told him about you and Ramsay. How you met, when you started talking, and all of the secret kissing and sneaking around. You explained that he was the source of a lot of fights. You felt your shoulders dropped when you really confessed to how much both of you fought and why. You wrung your hands together when you told him the last part.

“And we broke up,” you finished. “He’s exhausted me. This time it was too much. I shouldn’t be around him.”

“So that was your hat.”

“What?” you looked up to Robb.

“That was your hat. He wore your hat to the game. You really did make that for him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. It’s just a lucky charm.”

“No, it’s not just a lucky charm. Did you see how he played? He was awful. He wasn’t focused,” Robb told you, trying to hint at something. “He wasn’t thinking about the game.”

“I doubt he was thinking about me,” you put yourself down and sat on the bench. The weather was growing colder, but you wanted to feel it create goosebumps of your skin.

“Then what was he thinking about, hm?” Robb asked you. Your eyes glazed over the courtyard full of students post-quidditch. You watched Myranda approach you. Her feet were fast, and a flush of red came to your cheeks. Robb stood in front of you, blocking Myranda’s view of you.

“Stay away from her or else,” Robb warned in a low voice.

“Or what, wolf boy? Gonna whip your silly wand out and pretend like you know how to fight?” Myranda sneered. Robb closed the space between them.

“For generations, my family has won duels. I don’t think I have to remind you that I defeated several members from your house. I don’t have qualms against defeating a girl.”

“I only want to talk to her, Stark.”

“Not today. Now turn around and go slither back to the loser house.”

Her nostril flared. “I need to talk to her.”

“So you can torture her? How do you feel about what you did? Do you think you won or something?”

“I didn’t win anything,” Myranda looked to you. “I mean no harm. I just need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Why?” you asked, speaking up for yourself. Myranda extended her hand out to you.

“I promised him privacy. I just need you to trust me,” her eyes were solely focused on you. Even though your gut was twisted and your cheeks were still flushed, you took Myranda’s hand. She led you back into the castle. You followed her down the changing stairs and down another hallway. She turned into a room that had a small view of the lake. Sea creatures floated and swam around in the windows. The room was dreary and green.

“No one will find us here for now,” Myranda slid off her quidditch cloak.

“Where am I?” you asked, looking around at the several piece of dark furniture. Sofas, desks, and chairs were all neatly clean of any kind of dust. Still, you felt like you didn’t belong here.

“The Slytherin study room,” Myranda answered, offering you a seat. You sat back on a leather couch, nothing how new it was.

“What are we doing here, Myranda?” you sounded exhausted. You didn’t want beef. You only wanted this nightmare over with.

“I think you should know that Ramsay’s fine. Nothing’s broken, but his wrist is sprained.” A feeling of relief washed over you. That was an easy part to swallow. Myranda continued. “I also think you should know that Ramsay never cheated on you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“A ruse. His plan. All of it,” Myranda rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “He only wanted to get a rise out of you. He figured if he made himself public with someone else then you would want that too with him.”

“Bastard,” you said under your breath.

“I know!” Myranda agreed. “I started the rumors in our house. They spread like fire when Margaery got a hold of them. It was only a matter of time when they got to you.”

“What about the kiss?” you stared at her dangerously. Myranda held up her hands.

“He wanted you to believe it. He paid me to do it.”

“He paid you to kiss him on the cheek? So why did you leave? If you’re not guilty.” Myranda took more steps back. You stopped and looked at yourself. You were standing, inching towards Myranda with your wand out.

“Ramsay told me you truly belonged in Slytherin. That you had this edge about you. I didn’t believe him then. Now I do,” Myranda said. She lowered her hands. “He told me that after I did it, I should leave because he didn’t know what you would do. He thought about a lot of things. He wanted his plan to work. He didn’t think you would break up with him.”

“You knew about us? And the break up?”

Myranda lounged on a sofa, a smirk formed on her face. “Of course I did. Ramsay and I are a team. I know everything about him. Just as he knows everything about me. And I knew something was wrong when he came back to common room and then the next morning at quidditch.”

“He was awful,” you trailed off.

“He was distracted. By you. He cares about you more than you know.”

“And how would you know?” you crossed your arms. Myranda smirked again.

“He told me. He showed me his plans for you and him. He told me how your parents really are and how they control you. He wants to take you away from that filth. He wants to be with you so badly. Even now, he begged me to give you this.”

Myranda handed over a sphere with a cork tied to a metal chain. You opened it carefully. You smelled northern woods, bacon, and Ramsay’s hair.

“Amortentia,” you said. The dreadful realization came over you all too quickly. “He begged you to have me drink this. So I would love him regardless if it was real or not.”

“He did,” Myranda nodded.

“But you’re giving it to me instead?”

“You love him. You truly love him. You don’t need a love potion for that. I don’t understand pureblood families, but I know love when I see it.” You grasped the potion in your hand with a new sense of purpose. You bolted from the lower parts of the castle and towards the Great Hall. Dinner would be soon. Everyone would be there. Ramsay would be there.

Your feet carried you to the entrance of the Great Hall. You pushed past every first year in your way and towards the Slytherin table. You were still in the proud Gryffindor attire from the game. Several people watched you march yourself to a surprised Ramsay Bolton. His wrist wrapped up tight. He stood up to greet you only to be met with your hand striking him across his face.

The hit was loud enough to gain everyone’s attention around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Margie looking on hungrily and Robb trying to keep himself from laughing. Ramsay held his cheek with his injured hand.

“Y/N, what are you—

You grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as you could. You felt Ramsay let his guard down and start to kiss you back. Even though you could feel everyone’s eyes on you and Ramsay, you kissed him deeper. You let him go and caught your breathing. Ramsay opened his eyes in shock.

“There. Now everyone knows. You’re my boyfriend now, happy?” You shoved the potion into his hands and strolled back to your table. Myranda high-fived you on your way there. You watched Ramsay mouth words to her. ‘Did you tell her?’ When Myranda nodded, Ramsay groaned and mouthed ‘what the actual fuck?’

Margie scooted towards you when you sat. “So, you and that foul mouthed Slytherin boy, huh?” You smiled to yourself. Ramsay and you were public now, and you liked it that way.

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