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drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two.

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him.

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers.

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door.

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time.

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled.

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her.

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks.

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth.

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile.

Task 1? Technically done.

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable.

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation.

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her.

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N.

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone.

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys.

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was.

“What is it?”

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back.

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs.

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??”

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her.

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on.

“Y/L/N?”

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match.

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms.

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made.

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her.

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled.

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.”

“Why?”

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.”

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin.

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.”

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest.

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood.

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own.

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him.

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost.

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!”

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink.

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia.

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed.

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green.

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked.

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused.

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face.

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before?

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me.

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes.

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.”

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.”

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour.

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.”

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.”

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck.

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him.

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica.

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?”

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what.

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned.

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper.

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove.

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.”

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown.

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait.

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill.

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower.

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?”

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?”

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress.

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps.

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim.

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings.

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot.

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe.

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking.

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

Text

Y/n's a witch and Harry's her soulmate

I'VE LITERALLY BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR 2 MONTHS!!!

lanfvksbkvjbs I hope you guys like it because I poured my whole soul into this!!!! I wanted it to be over 10k but I felt like I was just dragging it on and the ending isn't great but it's ok.

I switch between present and past tense without meaning too- oops :)

wordcount: 9911

warnings: uhhh, swearing, google translated latin :) catcalling and unwanted male attention (with a bad witch moment... see what i did there😏), a little bit of violence, very lightly edited lmao

She didn’t quite understand what was going on. Was this another witch? No, she would have felt that energy differently. So he had to be a mortal. But why did it feel like she had just been set on fire in the best way possible.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

Harry walks into Y/n’s shop one day, sees the brooms sweeping by themselves and gets a little curious.

“Althea, get your claws out of there. You’re gonna get hair in the muffins!” Y/n shrieked, quickly shooing the troublesome feline away from the open bowl of batter sat atop the counter. The cat just meowed at her, unbothered by her person's shrieking. Thea was quite the diva. She couldn’t give a flying fuck even if she tried.

“Oh Stars, look what you’ve done!” Y/n continued, cleaning up the trail of paw prints left in the flour on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the kitchen when I’m baking Thea! Why don’t you ever listen!”

Y/n has been a little strung up lately. That’s probably the understatement of the century. Maybe if she hadn’t been put in charge of the shop for the first time by herself while her mother went to gather supplies and place orders for said shop, she wouldn’t be so stressed. She’s only 22 years into her eternal lifetime. She’s yet to learn the virtue of patience, her mind never ceasing to run with ideas and thoughts and feelings.

Her mother always griped about how she needed to take a deep breath and let go of the tension in her shoulders because now that she had stopped ageing- she had all the time in the world (literally) to do everything she was worried about. Y/n would argue that she’s not worried so much as eager. She’s just very excitable.

“Why do I even bother yelling at you anymore.” Y/n grumbled, flicking her wrist in the direction of the broom closet. The broom and dustpan came floating out and got to work sweeping up the bits of flower seeds and petals that had dropped off the table instead of into the mortar like she had planned.

Y/n’s never been known for her cleanliness.

Out of the blue, the hair on the back of her neck and arms stood at full attention, a warm shiver shooting down her spine. What the hell? She thought to herself. Thea didn’t seem bothered by whatever energy was coming closer so she knew it wasn’t any danger, but it was something. Y/n flicked her wrist once more, quickly sending the broom away and going to hide behind a wall where whoever this was couldn’t see her.

The little bells above the door chimed, alerting anyone inside that someone had just arrived. In walked, who Y/n thought to be, the most beautiful boy she thinks she’s ever seen. Chestnut curls shielded by a knit beanie, sea glass eyes, broad shoulders, a kind smile on his face. He looked as ethereal as she was.

She felt the earth shift under her feet, her heart speeding up slightly in his presence. He was magnificent, she thought. The shiver she felt was steadfast and unchanging, finding a home in the goosebumps covering her whole body. She had never felt like this before.

The witch watched from behind the wall as the man gazed about the shop, his hands rested behind his back. In a pair of black jeans with a rip in the knee and a white tee shirt with a cardigan thrown over it, he shuffled about.

Y/n took a deep breath, collecting herself before making her presence known. She walked out from behind the wall, stepping behind the main checkout counter and clearing her throat lightly.

“Welcome in! I’m Y/n, let me know if you need any help!” She said, trying not to cringe at how scripted that sounded.

His head popped up, eyes connecting with hers and that’s when they both felt the energy in the room grow. Thea came sauntering out of the kitchen area in the back, Y/n made a mental note to check the muffin batter for cat hair later, no doubt at the electrical charge of the room.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

There was a pause, where neither of them wanted to move, in fear of this moment passing and never getting to feel like this ever again.

It felt like having a picnic on a warm summer day, where it’s not too hot but just right. It felt like the first breath of fresh Spring air, like hearing a baby giggle. She felt fuzzy and warm. Like she was wrapped in a hug. Y/n felt… peaceful. She felt all of her anxiety about the shop melt away, as if it had never been there.

Harry smiled at her, a pink tinge coating his skin, and pulled his eyes away (he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by staring), continuing on with his peruse of the shop. He had no idea why he was here, truly. Didn’t realize where he was until he pushed through the door. He doesn’t even know what any of this stuff is, he’s just looking so it seems like he knows what he’s doing.

He felt something brush his ankle, looking down and seeing a fluffy snow white cat with striking green eyes (just like his!), and cooed at her.

“Is it alright if I pet her?” He asked, looking back up at Y/n. He would take any chance he got to look at her. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. With her shiny hair and kind eyes, a smile that made you want to hug her. She looked so welcoming. He felt… oddly peaceful.

“Yeah of course! She’s my little attention whore, aren’t you Thea?” Y/n giggled and Harry thought his heart would stop right there. Her little giggle was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard, he decided.

She got up from her little stool behind the counter and floated over to him, using her cat as an excuse to get closer. She just couldn’t figure out why she had such a pull to him. It didn’t make sense to her. Maybe he was a witch and was just masking his energy really well, maybe he was some sort of other creature, or maybe… no, that can’t be it.

Well…

Maybe… he’s her Flame. Her Twin Flame… Her Soulmate.

No. There’s no way. It’s so rare for witches to find their flames. And especially at such a young age. Y/n’s parents didn’t find each other for almost 75 years, and here she is at just 22, stumbling upon some magical happenstance where her Flame just saunters into her family’s shop.

Harry scratched behind Thea’s ear, a motor-like pur erupting from her little belly. She nuzzled into his touch, and then sprung up onto his shoulder from the table, startling the man. Y/n giggled at the look on his face, reaching up to scratch just above Thea’s tail, her favorite spot.

“She does that when she likes someone.” Y/n explained. A blush appeared on his face at this.

She likes him.

“So was there anything in particular you were looking for?” Y/n continued, hoping to make more conversation with him. Her fingers are buzzing, wanting to reach out and hold his hand or touch his arm, anyway she can get her hands on him really, but she knows that would be inappropriate so she refrains (however difficult it may be).

Harry was in the same boat. He felt the need to wrap her up in his embrace and never let her go. It was the strangest thing he thinks he’s ever felt.

“Honestly, no. I don’t really know what any of this stuff is… I didn’t even realize when I walked in but I didn’t want to look like a psycho just walking in and out of shops randomly.” A shy smile displays on his features.

Y/n chuckled. This furthers her hunch that he is, in fact, her Flame. Getting a random urge to come in here could only mean that the invisible string tying them together was leading him to her. Pulling them closer and closer everyday until this very moment, when they were fated to meet. Written in the stars to know each other, whether that be for love or friendship only time would tell.

She really hopes it’s love.

“Ok… We’re kind of just a general shop. We carry crystals, herbs, spices, oils, candles, and my mother does a lot of crafts, so we sell those here too.” Y/n went on to explain, Harry’s eyes flitted around to all the things she mentioned. He saw glittering crystals, by themselves but also made into jewelry like rings and necklaces, he saw bundles of different flowers and vials of liquids he assumed were the oils she mentioned.

“What is all this stuff for?” He questioned. He had never heard of anyone suddenly needing Oxeye Daisies or black onyx crystals, but he’d never been one to judge.

Y/n paused, thinking of the best way to explain everything. Practising “witchcraft” wasn’t an unusual topic to humans, but they didn’t know that witches with magic that was (semi-inaccurately) portrayed in movies and tv shows actually existed.

“Uhm, anything in the shop can be used for a number of things. Apothecary, gardening, herbal remedies, manifestation.” She explained. He nodded along with her words, doing his best to focus on what she was saying rather than just her. His body was tingling the closer she stood. He never wanted this feeling to go away.

Whatever this feeling was.

Harry looked around, his sights landing on a shelf full of colorful candles. His eyes lit up, trotting over to them, picking up one that was a light lavender color. He didn’t know he was drawn to this one in particular, but something had pulled him to grab it. Something was telling him to buy it, bring it home, and burn it on his bedside table, right next to his head every night.

It was Y/n’s favorite color.

The girl's cheeks burnt when she realized this was the one he had picked out. The occurrence might seem random to anyone passing by, anyone who didn’t know two halves of a soul had just been reunited with one another after being apart for however many years. But Y/n knew, and hopefully Harry would know soon.

She didn’t want to scare him though. He would think she was crazy. Imagine a random stranger that you’ve never seen before in your entire life tells you that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life together. He would run away screaming.

So she has to start slow.

“Think I might get a few candles…” Harry trails off, looking around at all the different shapes and sizes of colored wax sitting before him. Y/n smiles at this and nods, letting him know she’ll be at the counter if he needs anything.

Please need something, she hopes to herself.

He didn’t end up needing anything, but he ended up purchasing 3 candles, all of them being that same lavender color.

* .

. * .

It was a few weeks later when Y/n felt a familiar tingle run down her spine. Harry must be near, she thought.

She had spent the last fortnight and then some moping about the shop and her flat, hoping her Flame would turn up again. Her mother, Asteria, had been ecstatic when she heard that her daughter had found her Flame, and empathised with her pain, understanding that he was a mortal and it was difficult to form bonds with them quickly. The woman always found it interesting how the most indefinite creatures took the longest to form their bonds. But then she remembered they had no knowledge of Twin Souls and often settled for one not fated to them.

“Mama, he’s close. I can feel him!” Y/n cried, tidying her appearance in the reflection of the window. She hopes to the Stars that he’s coming to see her and not just passing through.

Waving away the brooms fluttering around the shop, she busies herself restocking shelves. Asteria had just finished a new batch of candles that needed shelving. The mother had been trying new recipes lately and was excited to see how they would fare.

Y/n almost misses the little chime of the bells signaling that someone has just entered. If it weren’t for the energy in the room skyrocketing and all the hair in her body standing at attention, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Turning, her gaze falls upon a familiar set of sea glass eyes and chestnut curls that have enchanted her mind every passing second since the first time they met. She tried her damndest to hide her grin, but had to turn away so he wouldn’t be able to see it.

Harry looked around the shop before his gaze fell upon the girl he hadn’t stopped dreaming about since he last was here. There she stood, back turned to him, with her shiny hair and adorable outfit. In a lavender colored sundress, hair pulled back by a white scarf, she fussed about the candle shelf that Harry had searched the last time he came.

Everytime he burned that candle, he thought of the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the different items in the shop and how she smiled at him when he asked her a question.

Harry had never been one to jump into things quickly. He was the kind of guy that liked to get a feel for a situation before he really dived into it. But there was something about this girl that made him want to jump in head first, fearless. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, daydreaming about little scenarios that he wished would happen between them.

He knows he sounds crazy, but he has a crush on her. And he’d only met her once! That is so not like him at all.

Y/n turned once again, sure that she had calmed the burning in her cheeks, greeting Harry as if she hadn’t thought of him in weeks.

“Welcome in,” she says, wondering if it would be weird to him if she remembered who he was, she decided she doesn’t care, “Oh, hi Harry!”

“Hello Y/n!” He smiles. Y/n felt her heart stutter in her chest when her name fell from his lips. As if she was floating (she had to check to make sure she actually wasn’t), she followed the sound of his voice, going to stand before him. Her first instinct was to hug him, and she was very sad that she had to stop herself.

“What brings you back?” She asked, itching to reach out and hold his hand. His gaze flits around for a few seconds before landing back on her face, a rose tint now on his cheeks.

“I- uh, I don’t really know. I just felt like I needed to come back…” He stuttered. A smile graced her lips, causing an identical one to grow on his own. Asteria watched from behind the counter, beaming at the couple.

“Y/n dear, who’s this?” The witch called. Y/n snapped out of her love-drunk haze, looking to her mother.

“Mama, this is Harry. He came in a few weeks ago while you were away.” She answered, giving her a look that said “please don’t say anything.” Asteria had a tendency to butt into her daughter's life, and Y/n needed to figure this out on her own.

Thea came flouncing out from whichever corner she had burrowed herself into and nosed at Harry’s feet before launching herself onto Y/n’s shoulder and staring at Harry from her new height advantage.

“Well look at you Thea, sittin’ all pretty up there!” Harry reached out to scratch behind her ears. Thea began purring loudly, louder than she did when Y/n petted her (Y/n did her best not to roll her eyes at her attention whore cat). The one thing the girl loved about this was now she had a reason to step closer to the boy before her. He smelled like citrus and woods, with a hint of weed (she’s not judging, she just wouldn’t peg him for a stoner so it’s a little surprising). She let it take over her senses until all she could think about was HaryHaryHary, having to stop herself from purring just like the cat.

“Well, whatever led you back here, it’s nice to see you again!” She blushed, deciding to let her affection for him shine through lightly. Y/n realized she didn’t really want to waste time dancing around mortal niceties. She didn’t want to scare him off but she wouldn’t feign disinterest. The witch wanted to make it clear she was smitten with him. So this was her way of starting slow, letting her blushes be seen, maybe resting a gentle hand on his bicep if he says something that makes her laugh, letting her longing gazes be caught before she looks away.

Like she said before, she’s going to start slow.

“I am too…” Harry wondered if maybe she felt the things he was feeling too. If she couldn’t stop thinking about him the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her out. See if she wanted to get dinner with him, or have a picnic in a park on a sunny afternoon while he stared, as uncreepily as he could, at her bright smile and star-stricken eyes.

Very quickly, like it almost didn’t happen, Y/n saw a blush pink haze surrounding the boy. He was feeling love. The heat in her cheeks rose, fluttering of her heart increasing.

Now she knew for sure, he was her soulmate for love- not friendship. Thank the Stars!

* .

. * .

The next few weeks, Harry would come in every few days just to see Y/n. After realizing that she might be feeling the way he was, he wanted to make it clear to her that he was smitten. So he’d come in after he got done with whatever he’d been doing that day, bring her flowers or a blue-raspberry red bull italian soda (he saw her drinking one one day when he came by) and they would talk and sometimes he’d bring food if it was late and they would eat at the counter in the back kitchen. It became a routine, and he started showing up almost everyday. On slower days, she would close up early, so as not to have a single distraction from her Flame.

The two would talk about the most obscure things, not giving a rat if others heard them cackling at each other's jokes and misspeakings (Y/n stumbled over her words quite a bit when she was tired, he came to realize. He thought it was adorable).

In return for the beautiful flowers and the delicious drinks he’d bring her, Y/n would give him little spell jars or charmed items to make his life easier. He didn’t know they were spelled or charmed, but he thought it was cute how she gave him a lavender colored pen and told him he would think of her every time he wrote anything down (she had charmed it to always spell things correctly) or a little jar filled with lavender and chamomile buds, a few drops of lavender oil and a small amethyst crystal sealed in white wax to help quell the anxiety he’d been feeling with his job lately.

He appreciated them more than any material thing she could have purchased for him. He liked that she wanted him to think about her or that she wanted to do away with his ailments. He came in with a cold once and she spent the better part of an hour fussing over him, telling him all these little tricks to clear his sinuses and giving him different blends of herbs and spices that should clear this up in no time! He thought she was very adorable, worrying over a little cold and wanting to make him better.

Harry found that each time he left her, the force that pulled him to her grew stronger. He wanted to be in her presence more and more every time he walked out the door of the shop. The boy still didn’t really understand what it was about her, but he’s long since stopped asking questions and was just rolling with the punches.

Speaking of things Y/n did that Harry thought was cute- the things she said enamoured him, rendered him so speechless sometimes all he could do was sit there and look at her, (ironically) wondering what magical force brought her to him. He had no idea that the Universe herself was the one who chose his favorite girl.

“Oh Stars Thea! Get out of the nettle! It makes you sneeze, silly cat!”

“Stars forbid you ever listen to me, mother.”

“Althea Rose get your furry ass away from that hot wax before I feed you to the hellhounds!”

He loved how she was always saying Stars where he would normally say Jesus Christ. He never was one to be into religion but it was just something people around him said.

As the weeks went by, they began to sit closer and closer to each other. What started as across the table from one another, began to turn into her at the head and him on the corner next to her, then both of them sitting on one side but a bit of space between them, and then side by side, thighs touching, on the bench seat. Eventually, Y/n would lay one of her legs over his and he would rest his hand innocently on her skin, his thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth, tapping his fingers to an imaginary beat as she told him a story about a kooky customer that came in.

That was another thing he loved that she said a lot: kooky.

Their goodbyes had grown more and more affectionate over time as well. From a little wave and a shy smile to a little hug, to a bear hug with a kiss on the temple from Harry.

Things were moving very swimmingly. Y/n was happy with the progress the two had made in getting to know each other. She had learned that he worked at a marketing firm but his passion was music, that he was in a band when he was in high school, and he’s from a village in Manchester.

Harry learned that Y/n has a degree in herbology and really likes the woods, and the show The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (despite the inaccurate depiction of witches, she thinks the characters are pretty).

Y/n has been trying to figure out the best way to tell Harry about her… lifestyle. It’s going to be a big shift in his reality and she worries that she’s going to overwhelm him. Her parents didn’t have this problem because they were both witches, but she had been fated to a mortal, which she’s not complaining about because loves Harry and all his human afflictions (loves!), but it’s quite a task keeping him in the dark until she’s ready to shed light on everything.

Especially on a day like today.

Her mother is out again, leaving her in charge of the store, again! And as previously mentioned, Y/n gets a little strung up when she’s left in charge. She’s forgetful, her mind flying all over the place. Her messiness gets worse, leaving different things all over the place (she somehow left a grimoire in the refrigerator at home), losing things… Basically, Y/n’s not doing so hot at the moment.

A busy spell had just finished, she had like 7 different customers in at once, all of them needing her for different things and all the chamomile and lavender oil rubbed behind her ear in the world couldn’t calm the anxiety flowing through her at the moment. She’d been so strung up that she hadn’t noticed the warm golden shiver running down her spine or all the hair on her body raising to attention or the jingle of the bells on the door when Harry walked in.

Walked in to see… the brooms sweeping up by themselves? And different pots and pans flying back into place… with no one carrying them. And Y/n muttering words he didn’t understand while her fingers wiggled, making the pestle inside what he learned to be called a mortar, moving by itself.

To say the least, Harry was very confused. And a little scared. Was he dreaming? Did today even happen? Was he still at home lying in bed?

The only thing that makes him realize he’s not is the shriek Y/n let’s out when she sees him standing frozen in the doorway, eyebrows pulled together in confusion (and a little bit of terror), mouth agape like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. All at once, every moving item ceased and dropped, including the pots and pans which made a very loud noise, scaring Thea so much that she did the loud “meow!” that you only hear cats do in movies, and Y/n let out a quiet“Shit!”

“Harry…” She muttered, standing up slowly and treading towards him.

“Um… Y/n. What- what the fuck… was all of that?” He stuttered, and she continued to walk to him.

“Love, why don’t we go sit down and I’ll explain everything to you!” Y/n said slowly. She had taken to calling him Love lately, not being able to stop herself. They had yet to really “confess their feelings” to the other, but it was like a silent thing that no one said but they both just knew. So the name didn’t surprise him. Actually in the midst of all this craziness (and how his whole world had just seemed to be flipped in a matter of 5 seconds) he was clinging to the familiarity of the pet name.

He nodded, his eyes glazing over as he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Y/n waved her wrist, everything that had dropped seeming to come to life again and be put back into their rightful places. Harry stared in amazement. Seeing it for the second time really drove the nail into the coffin that holy shit this is really happening…

They sat down side by side on the bench where they normally did but Y/n didn’t put her leg over his like they had grown used to. She missed the contact but figured a little space while she explained everything would be best for her Flame. Harry didn’t agree and tugged her closer to him. She didn’t fight it.

“Ok,” She sighed, cracking her knuckles as she took a deep breath, “Harry… my darling Harry. I need you to keep an open mind while I tell you all of this ok? It’s gonna be a lot for you to take in and I don’t want you to get a headache.” He nodded, and she took his hands in her own, running her thumb over his palm and channeling positive energy between the two of them. She saw Harry relax a little, letting her know it worked. He was ready (as ready as he could be) to hear what she had to say.

“Love, I’m a witch.” She says, letting it sink in for a moment. Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. Y/n wonders if he’s even breathing. The strong pulse thumping in his wrist is a steady reminder that he’s ok, just shocked. (Very, very shocked).

“I come from a very long line of very powerful witches. I have magic, kind of like you see in movies and tv shows except I don’t worship the devil or eat children. None of us do. We’re usually very gentle creatures, unless we’re put in danger. Witches don’t use magic to hurt others, quite the opposite actually.”

“So… you cast spells and stuff?” He asks quietly. She breathes a laugh through her nose, nodding her head, continuing to channel him by rubbing her thumbs over his palms.

“I do, that’s what you saw me doing at the counter. I was actually strengthening the anti-anxiety jar I gave you a few weeks ago, because you told me you had a big project coming up and I didn’t want you to get too stressed out.” The girl said.

Harry couldn’t really focus on one thing for too long, letting his gaze flit around the kitchen area. He felt oddly… calm.

“Why do I feel so calm right now? I feel like I should be freaking out a little bit more than I am…” He voiced, finally looking into her eyes.

“I’m channeling you… look.” She said, pointing her gaze to their hands. He sees her thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his palms and looks back into her eyes.

“You’re casting a spell on me right now?” Harry wonders out loud.

“Channeling isn’t necessarily a spell, I’m just focusing and directing positive energy onto you right now, to help keep you calm. Like I said, I don’t want you to get a headache or pass out on me. I can stop if you want me to though!” She added quickly at the end but he shook his head.

“No, don’t stop…” He almost cried, pulling her closer to him.

“Ok, I won’t. It’s ok!” She shushed him, letting one of her hands float to his cheek, brushing over his cheek bone and pushing a fallen curl out of his eyes, before her hand found his again.

“Was it a spell that made me want to come in here that first day?”

“No baby, that’s actually a little different. This might be a little much so you gotta bear with me ok?” She explained and he nodded, heaving out a heavy breath.

A beat of silence passes and Y/n lets her eyes lock with his.

“We’re Twin Flames… or what you would know as Soulmates. We were fated to be together. That’s why you felt a pull to come in here. We were… destined… to meet each other.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/n feels like her heart is about to beat out of her chest. She knew he was going to find out someday, but really didn’t expect that day to be this one. This crazy long day where everything had seemed to just bubble over and explode. She should have known something was going to happen when this morning, the flame on the candle she had lit for Harry on her altar was taller than it ever had been. She had written it off to him just thinking about her or something (if this was the case, it would be to the ceiling all day everyday because he never stops thinking about her), but she should have known. And now, here she was, terrified that Harry was going to walk away from her. She would understand if he did, it’s a lot to take in, and having your whole world flipped on its head is a bit much.

It would still break her heart though.

“So… this is normal?” Harry broke his silence.

“Is what normal?”

“That I want to be around you all the time? That I think about you all the time? What I’m feeling is normal?”

Y/n’s face softens. He’s so cute, she thinks. She could just wrap him up in a little bow and keep him all to herself for the rest of time.

“Yes, baby. It’s normal! I’ve been feeling the same things as you ever since we first met!” Harry’s mind is a little clearer now, so he picks up on the new pet name. Baby. He likes it, he decides.

“You feel this way too?” He looks like a little puppy right now, Y/n could just cry. She nodded her head, scooting impossibly closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. It seemed now that he was even calmer than he had been before, even without her channeling. She stopped for a second to test his reaction and he was ok. He didn’t tense up, eyes didn’t well in tears, didn’t lose consciousness. So she moved her hands to cup his cheeks now, feeling him lean into her touch.

“You’ve been the only thing on my mind since before you even walked through the door that first day. You’re in my dreams every night, I see you every time I close my eyes, I’m completely taken with everything you do.” Y/n confesses, feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“I know it seems fast to you, as a mortal. Your kind usually takes this kind of thing slowly, really learns a person before you become vulnerable. Out of fear for being judged or whatever it might be, but I would never judge you. I want you to know it’s ok to let your guard down with me. Whatever you're comfortable with! I don’t want to overwhelm you in any way, and I know all of this is so so much to take in. I just want what’s best for you, my Love.”

It’s not lost on Harry that she adds my before Love. He feels his heart flutter.

“I’m taken with everything you do too. Absolutely everything.” He whispers, if he speaks too loudly the moment might be lost.

They stare into each other's eyes, feeling the energy in the room grow. Flames from the lit candles around the room grow tenfold, reflecting the rising energy. Harry has half a mind to break his gaze from the girl before him, seeing the tall flames before bringing his eyes back to hers. He sees her gaze drop to his lips repeatedly. He doesn’t think she even realizes that she’s leaning in to him, but he’s not going to stop her.

When she’s so close he can feel her breath fanning over his face, she pauses, looking back up to his eyes, silently asking for permission. With her hands still cupping his cheeks gently, she closes the distance between them, pressing her lips delicately to his. Harry places his hands in two places: her waist and her neck. He pulls her in closer, pressing their lips together more firmly. A wildfire spreads from head to toe on both of them. It seems as though time has paused for this very moment, and again the earth shifts. A piece of the universe has just been restored, two halves of a soul reunited.

Harry’s fingertips send sparks flowing down her spine, she hums against his lips. The kiss is simple, just two people getting to know each other, learning the other's body, but it’s long. It’s not just one peck. Harry presses his lips against hers multiple times, slotting her bottom between both of his.

When Y/n pulls back to catch her breath, Harry chases after her, not ready to end this moment yet. She chuckles and grants him a few more kisses until she really is about to pass out because she needs to breathe. Pushing him gently, she breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed.

She so badly wants to let the three words sitting on the tip of her tongue go, but doesn’t want to overwhelm him with too much all at once.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, pulling her to sit astride his lap. She moves pliantly, letting him take control of the situation.

The air feels charged, thick, like it should be hard to breath but it flows, smooth as water, into their lungs.

Y/n’s head feels heavy, like she’s high on every drug there ever was, her mind fuzzy, unable to think outside of this moment. Outside of this little wrinkle in time where Harry is the only other thing that exists.

“Yeah,” She whispers back, reconnecting their lips, slotting them together over and over until their lips are puffy and red. Harry slides his hands around her waist, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, not even a slip of paper would fit.

Pulling away, Harry heaves in a deep breath, squeezing Y/n’s hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” He says, nudging his nose against hers. She smiles, letting his affections wash over her, warming her eternal soul.

“This doesn’t freak you out?”

“Oh, I’m so freaked out but I'm kind of just going with it, living in the ambiguity and all that shit.” He heaves a laugh through his nose, pressing kisses to her cheek and down her neck, smoothing his hands up and down her back.

This was the best possible outcome of the situation, if Y/n had to be honest. It could have gone so many ways. Harry being freaked out but rolling with it… she’ll take it.

“How about we make dinner and you can ask me any questions you have?” She suggested and he nodded.

So they did just that. But Y/n closed the shop early and they went back to her place. Hand in hand they walked the few blocks, side glaces of reassurance and little squeezes of the hand, letting the other know they were there, and they weren’t going anywhere, with Thea in her little travel backpack (that she was absolutely in love with surprisingly).

They came upon an unsuspecting alleyway. Harry thought they were just passing through as a shortcut but Y/n stopped walking in the middle of a blank brick wall and muttered a few words she didn’t understand while waving her hands. He started to realize maybe this wasn’t just a shortcut.

Before his eyes, a door appeared. His brows shot up in surprise (he’s gonna get worry lines on his forehead if he doesn’t stop doing that, he realizes). Y/n looked over her shoulder at him, trying to hide a smirk but the look on his face was too good.

“Pretty wicked huh?” Harry didn't say anything, just chuckled and nodded, following her when she opened the door and a set of stairs appeared. Walking up the dimly lit hallway, they come to another door with the cheeky The Witch Is In sign.

“Cute.” Harry smirks at her and she laughs, opening it and letting him walk through first.

“Make yourself at home! I’ve got records on the shelf over there, you can pick one if you want. I’m just gonna feed Thea and get her all settled and we can get to making dinner.” Y/n explained. Harry ventured off into her living room, seeing the shelf she was talking about and browsing through. There were many different artists from Fleetwood Mac to Taylor Swift to Weezer. He picks out Hozier's self-titled album and puts it on, the beginning of Take Me To Church crackling through the speakers.

“Good choice,” He hears from behind him and smiles, turning around to see the girl he was apparently destined to spend the rest of his life with standing before him.

“Jackie and Wilson has been stuck in my head the last few days so,” He said, sauntering over to her and snaking his arms around her waist.

Taking a look around, he sees many different trinkets and items similar to what was in the shop. A lot of jars filled with different things, candles of all different colors, crystals, a broom (he didn’t realize witches actually had brooms but ok), among other things that he didn’t know the purpose of.

“Wait… how are there windows in here? I didn’t see any outside.” He asked, pulling back from the hug and looking at her.

“Well, there aren’t any windows in the alley. But there’s also a glamour spell on this building so nobody can see my apartment. That’s why you can’t see the door until I do the little thing you saw me do.” She answered. A sheepish smile broke onto his face.

“Oh,” he said and she laughed from her chest, petting a few fallen curls back from his forehead. She could get used to this, she thinks as she stares into his eyes, green as the forest and wide with wonder at everything he’s discovered today.

Who knew the girl he was falling in love with would be a witch… with actual powers.

* .

. * .

“Wait so, if no one can see your front door… how do you get mail?” Harry asked, reaching around Y/n for the salt.

“At the shop,”

“Oh,” He says. She laughs, kissing his cheek and continuing on cutting up veggies for the salad they're making.

“Have you always been able to do magic or was it something you grew into?” Y/n thought back to when she was little, remembering how she struggled to harness her powers for a few years before she started getting the hang of things.

“I always had powers, but imagic isn’t something you just wake up and know how to do so it took a while for me to really settle into and control. Magic is a skill, same as reading and writing, so I had to be taught and I had to work on it. Does that make sense?” She pauses while she explains, looking into his eyes. Harry nods, but his light hearted curious expression turns into one of embarrassment and she doesn’t understand why.

A rosy red color surrounds him, telling her he was feeling… embarrassed? Why did he feel embarrassed?

“Baby? What’s going through your head?” She asks, wanting to help him feel better.

She doesn’t like when he’s feeling anything other than happy!

“I just… I feel like I’m asking you so many questions about all of this stuff and it’s just tough to wrap my head around I guess.” She puts the knife down and sets her hand on his wrist, stopping from what he’s doing. She places her other hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her.

“Harry, this is a lot to take in, yeah? It’s not something you can just find out and move on from. It’s gonna take time to process. You’re gonna feel a lot of emotions, and that’s ok! I would be worried if you weren’t feeling a little off, as much as I hate that you’re not feeling 100%.”

She places a series of gentle pecks on his lips, doing her best to soothe him in any way.

“Ask all the questions you want! You don’t have to worry about being judged or saying something wrong, you have a right to be curious.” She feels him relax in her hold which in turn makes her relax.

“Thank you for being patient with me,”

He’ll get used to this, he thinks. He’ll get used to the fact that real witches actually exist, he’ll start to understand the words she mutters when she waves her hands, he’ll get it eventually. But right now, he doesn’t really get it, he’s not really used to it. But she’s worth it. She’s worth more than everything.

“I think you’re the one thing I know how to be patient with,” Again, she wants to mutter those three words on the tip of her tongue, but he’s already been through so much today, she doesn’t want to overwhelm him any more than he already is. So she’ll wait, because one day (hopefully soon) he’ll be ready to hear them.

“Can you do a spell? I kind of want to see how they work…” Harry asks after a moment of them just enjoying the silence that only really comes when two people understand each other.

She chuckles and nods, telling him she will show him a few spells after dinner. He agrees and they go back to making their meal, dancing around each other and laughing just like they always did and it felt good. Felt like this would be ok. Y/n was still scared because he could still decide to leave, that this was too much for him. That she was too much for him.

But for right now, things were ok.

* .

. * .

“Amoris et lux sum ego ipse, et carorum beatum facere potest, per potentiam solem et lunam, ut superius, et inferius.”

(I am love and light, I bring happiness to myself and my loved ones, By the power of the sun and moon, as above, so below)

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything weirder in his life...and his college roommate freshman year was a conspiracy theorist.

As Y/n spoke the words, she stirred a brew of tea infused with different herbs clockwise. He watched from beside her as she did this, his hand placed on her thigh so that his energy could be used in the spell along with hers.

Before she said the spell, she told him to set an intention and he had no idea what that was so she did a little lesson after reassuring him that his question was valid. (He’s still feeling insecure about not understanding anything she was talking about.) She told him to “close your eyes, take a deep breath, and clear your mind. Think of something you want in life that isn’t material.”

His immediate thought was that he wanted to spread kindness and love in the world (Y/n did her best not to tear up at her Flame’s pure intentions) so she nodded, telling him to think about that and only that, and set her intentions to the same thing so the spell would work. Mixing lavender, rose petals, and chamomile in a large mug, she pours in hot water to steep the herbs and, as previously mentioned, stirs it clockwise (something about clockwise being for manifestation), , rubs her palms together and snaps her fingers, and snuffs out the candles she had lit.

When all is said and finished, Y/n pulls Harry into a sweet kiss, and then has him take a sip of the tea telling him be careful my Love, it’s still hot. He kisses her back, taking a sip of the tea (he’d never been one for lavender things but this was actually really good. He wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Y/n made it).

“So we just drink this and then what?” He asks, handing her the mug.

“We sacrifice an animal,” She says, not skipping a beat and taking her sip. Harry chokes on his spit, gasping for a breath of air before the girl bursts into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just kidding, baby. That’s it. That’s the whole spell. You just have to honestly believe it for it to work.” She says and he heaves a sigh of relief.

“Don’t joke like that!” He whines, more giggles escaping from Y/n’s throat.

“I’m sorry bub, I won’t do that anymore.” She says, still fighting off laughs. They continue to sip the tea, Y/n telling Harry about different things she did during the day.

Harry looked upon her as if she hung the moon just for him, and was telling him all about how she did it. Without even realizing it, he started to feel warmer and like a buzz was coursing through his veins.

“I feel weird…”

“What do you mean you mean you feel weird?” She voiced, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead and then feeling his pulse. Both were normal.

“I feel warm and like I’m buzzing… Kind of like I’m high…” He explained and she nodded her head, a small sigh of relief escaping her.

“That’s the spell working baby. You’re ok!”

“Oh, ok. It just worried me a little,”

“You’re ok! I want you to tell me when something worries you or feels different or off.” She says, and places a hand on his thigh. Harry agrees and they continue with their conversation.

When they both took their last sips on the tea, they cuddled up on the couch, an incense stick and candle lit on the coffee table.

Y/n sat, manipulating the smoke and flame simultaneously while Harry watched with a wide eyed gaze. She had explained how this was something he would be able to learn if he wanted to, and that she had been practicing for years to be able to do both things at the same time.

“I started when I was… I want to say 5. It’s a simple skill that promotes concentration. You have to stay extremely focused to even manipulate one element at a time. It’s only been these last few years that I’ve been able to concentrate enough to do both.” She explained, taking a break. As much as she loved showing Harry all these different things, it took a lot of energy out of her and it had already been a dreadfully long day.

“How about we go to sleep and I’ll show you more tomorrow? I’m pooped!” Harry hums an agreement, lifting his head from her lap and letting her lead the way to her bedroom.

Light lavender walls adorned with shelves full of plants and different nicknacks, and a desk with more candles, herbs, and other eclectic items sat atop it.

“What is all of this?” He sifts through all the things on the desk, not touching as Y/n had explained to him at some point today, I know you don’t have any ill intent, but a lot of this stuff absorbs other people's energy which can mess up what I use it for, so look and don’t touch. If you want a closer look, I’ll pick it up. There are different colored stones of varied shapes and sizes and many candles. One in particular catches his eyes. A green one with a very tall flame with something carved into the side of it. “What’s up with this green candle?”

“This is my altar, and the green candle is the one I have lit for you. I’m assuming that because you’re here, it’s going a little crazy. Nothing to be afraid of! I’m actually going to put it out since you’re here with me.” She explained quickly, reaching towards the flame with her finger and snuffing it out.

“Wait, you had a candle lit for me?” His eyes rounded, a shy smile coming onto his lips. An identical smile graced her features as she turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had one lit for you since the day we met. I made a sigil and carved it into the side and keep it lit day and night as an extra layer of protection for you.” She explained. Harry felt his heart melt at this.

She couldn’t get any cuter, he thinks.

A candle lit for him… to keep him safe. That’s adorable.

He leans in and places a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing the little hairs away from her face.

Y/n led him further into her room where her ensuite bathroom was, giving him a tooth brush and letting him know he could shower if he wanted to. When he came back into the room after getting ready, Y/n laid out on the bed in a sports bra and shorts. He just wore his boxers.

Climbing into bed next to her, she cuddled up to him right away, his arm finding a home around her body and her head laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Been dreaming about this moment my whole life,” Y/n mumbled, cheek smushed against his skin, making her look all cute and cuddly. Harry had to hold back a coo at the sentiment.

“Me too Moppet, me too,” He sighed, and they both drifted off into warm, fluffy, dream-like states, wrapped in the safety of each other's arms.

* .

. * .

Walking down the street at night isn’t the best idea for normal women, Y/n had learned over her 22 years of life. But Y/n is not a normal woman. She’s a witch.

And while most women carry their keys between their knuckles and have tasers or pepper spray or mace at the ready, Y/n didn’t really need that. This was one of the only instances where she would use her magic to harm anyone. Like she’d said before- only when she’s put in danger (or someone else around her is put in danger).

So when a prick who reeks of whiskey starts tailing her, she waits for him to take the first blow. Waits for him to get a little too close, so she can turn around and unleash her wrath on him. All the while making it seem like it’s not her doing. Like causing a brink to fall off the roof above her and hit him in the head. She wouldn’t actually do that but a witch could dream.

No, she’ll trip him up without turning around and if he still insists on gaining her attention, she’ll spin around quick, flick her wrist and send him into an unconscious daze and let him sleep off his inebriation on the lovely warmth of the concrete sidewalk.

That’s exactly what she does.

“Hey sweetheart, where you goin’?” He slurs, beginning his trek behind her. She’s unresponsive which leads him to believe she’s playing hard to get because his fragile little man ego can’t fathom that a woman would ignore his attention.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that!” He speeds up, already wobbling but this only serves to make him clumsier.

She does her thing, flicking her wrist in his direction (discreetly) so he trips, but this doesn’t stall him. He reaches out, effectively grabbing her arm. She whips around to face him, cheeks growing red hot with anger. Ripping her arm out of his grasp and twisting his arm around, she gets close to his face.

“Touch me again, I fucking dare you!” She snarls, doesn’t even realize her grip is burning into his flesh- her magic gets a little crazy when she’s mad. Releasing him (tossing his arm away from her in a rough manner), she flicks her wrist once again and mutters a quick “et obliviscere somnum*”, watching him fall to the ground, unconscious. She looked around to see if anyone was watching the scene go down but no one was sober enough to pay attention to some drunk bloke harassing a young woman.

*(forget and sleep)

She shakes off her frustration as she comes to a stop in front of an unfamiliar building. Where her Flame lives.

She had agreed to let him make her dinner at his house, so she packed an overnight back and made her way further into town. He had given her an address and while, yes she did use it, she also let their bond lead her to him. She just kind of knew where to go, it seemed. Harry had expressed that he felt something similar the first time he went into the shop, though he didn’t understand why he wanted to walk in- just felt like he had to.

Making her way up the stairs, she let’s Harry know she’s there, beginning to feel the familiar tingle rush down her spine. She hadn’t seen him for a week and a half since he's been busy with a project at work- a client wasn’t happy with all the work he and a coworker had done so they had to quickly re-do an entire proposal to meet the client's deadline. Needless to say- the little anti-anxiety jar she made him was coming in real handy lately. Y/n had also had him put citrine and amethyst points on his desk while he worked to help him focus and stay calm so he didn’t stress too badly.

She always had a little something to make his life easier, whether it be a stone, or a jar of different things (a spell jar, he’d learned), or whatever it may be- she always had something to help.

When she made it to his floor, he was standing there waiting for her with open arms. She ran to him, jumping into his arms and holding onto him tight.

“I missed you, my wild girl,” He muttered into her neck, spinning her around. Her face flushed without fail, her arms wrapping tighter around him.

“Missed you most,” She sighed, nuzzling into him.

“Don’t think that’s possible.”

She hummed in disagreement while he walked them inside, Y/n still wrapped around him like a koala bear. His house smelled of peach and mango. It’s sweet- just like him. The thought made her smile.

Giving him a big smacking kiss on the cheek, she pulls back to have a look at his face, seeing he’s smiling like an idiot. It warms her heart to see him smile, butterflies breaking out of their cocoons and fluttering about her tummy.

“What’re you smiling for?” She voices, giggling at him.

“M’ happy you’re here,” He sighed, “Don’t like not seeing you.”

“I don’t like not seeing you either,” She frowned, petting his wild curls back and placing little pecks all around his face.

His cheeks flushed at her affection.

Harry set Y/n down on the kitchen counter, standing in between her legs, hands resting on her hips. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers lightly, before slotting them together, fully indulging himself in his girl. She responds immediately, letting her hands rest around his neck.

She will never not be amazed by how soft his lips are. Kissing him feels like floating through clouds, like laying down in bed after a long day on your feet. Kissing him is like the first breath of warm summer air after the longest winter. Kissing him feels like coming home.

Y/n’s heartbeat picks up as the kiss becomes more needy, leaning into him further. Harry pulls her closer, his hands ghosting up the bare skin under her shirt and fiddling with the band of the bralette she’s wearing. A gasp escapes her lips when he pulled the fabric up, letting it snap back to her skin causing a smirk to grow on his face- struggling to keep up with her lips.

He kisses her breathless before pulling away, watching as her eyes flutter open and she heaves air into her lungs, her cheeks flushed and supple.

“Don’t want the food to burn,” He smirks again, hands falling away from her body, moving the pots and pans on the stove around to the counter so he could plate their dinner.

“Asshole,” He hears her mutter.

Harry could get used to this, having Y/n around. Being able to come home to her, make them dinner, make out in the kitchen, fall asleep together. He can’t believe he ever thought he loved anyone before she came along. There was just no way. Y/n came into his life and took over every aspect and now he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. He hopes to the Stars he doesn’t have to.

Yeah, she’s got him praying to the stars now.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x witch!reader #witch!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #one direction #one direction fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #one shot #harry styles au #witch!harry #soulmate!harry #soulmates au #harry styles x soulemate!reader

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

Text

Because Hearts Get Broken (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: When your whole life you’ve been taught to push your feelings away, it’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust most. And sometimes what you give isn’t enough.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: sad. just angsty and sad. swearing; emotionally closed reader

Word count: 2904

Y/N had never been the kind of person who talks about her feelings. It didn’t matter if it was friends or family; her mindset was – they’re my problems, so you don’t have to worry your head about it.

In relationships, it wasn’t any better, in fact, it was kinda worse. It was extremely difficult for the girl to open up to her partner, which in turn she’d let so many possible relationships pass her by. Not to mention, when she was in one, they slowly deteriorated because of her inability to share with them. Which is why it didn’t come as much of a surprise when it happened between her and Harry.

Somehow unconsciously Y/N had been almost preparing herself, preparing her heart for it to break. When he walked inside his place, she’d been there to prepare them a meal in. They’d both had a stressful couple of weeks with Harry starting off on a new album endeavour, while Y/N’s boss was practically threatening to rip her head off, as she scrambled to finish everything, even though the deadlines were months away.

It just all kind of came crashing down on her when her boss suddenly called her up, telling her to rush back to the office, and when Y/N asked if it could wait until the morning, the ultimatum came that if she wanted her job, she’d do it then and there.

“Hey.” She hadn’t heard Harry come in, only noticed it when his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. “Hey, shh, come ‘ere.”

Slowly, he laid the two of them down, letting her head be tucked beneath his chin, as his palm rubbed soothing circles on her back. “ ‘S gonna be okay, dove. ‘S gonna be alright. Come on, now.”

They laid like that for about five minutes, until Y/N pushed her face away from Harry’s chest and laid her cheek there, taking in a few short, shaky breaths, and steadying herself by placing her palm on his chest and feeling the steady thuds of his heart.

“Wanna talk about it?” he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, but she sighed, shaking her head no.

“ ‘S fine. Overreacted.”

“You were sitting on the couch, crying and hyperventilating, dove. Obviously, something’s wrong.”

“Harry,” Y/N let out a long breath. “Can you please just let it go? It’s nothing major. If it was, I’d tell you.”

“Would you though?” The whisper went almost unnoticed, but Y/N did hear it, and it made her eyebrows furrow and push herself up from where they’d been nestled together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean.” Harry bit the inside of the cheek. “When is the last time you ever told me what’s bothering you? Like really, truly made you upset?”

“What are you implying?” Y/N’s voice had gone steely, almost emotionless, as her brain pretty much screamed ‘it’s happening’.

“How can I help you when you don’t let me in?” His gaze was pleading, as his hands grasped onto her cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Pardon?”

Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch, letting his touch fall away. “You’re not supposed to. They’re my problems to deal with, not yours, so you’re not supposed to help me. And there’s nothing to help me with.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How are we supposed to be in a relationship, if you don’t trust me?”

“I dunno,” Y/N whispered hugging herself. Sometimes she hated how her brain worked, but it was inevitable, right? It always came to this, so why not be the bad guy in the situation. “Maybe we’re not supposed to then.”

Harry was more than stunned at her reply. Not once during their relationship, he'd thought that her immediate reaction to a problem would be to immediately dismiss their love. "You - you don't mean that."

"Well," Y/N sniffled wiping at her cheeks where new tears were trailing down, "maybe I do. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I mean they do say the first year is spent with rose-coloured glasses on, right? 'S time to take 'em off."

“So that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N exasperated throwing her hands up. “It’s the way I am, and I can’t change that. And if you can’t accept it, then yeah, maybe I am giving up just like that.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I –,” he stammered, “I can’t believe this.”

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“To fight!” He was practically yelling at this point, hoping to see some kind of emotion on Y/N’s face. “To let me in! To – to – fuck! To start trusting me!”

“I do trust you!”

“But not enough to trust me with your heart.”

A deafening silence fell over both of them because without needing a confirmation, Harry knew he’d struck gold. God, how he wished he hadn’t, but the numb expression Y/N's face morphed into told him enough.

“I’m giving you what I can.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, resolute. “And if that’s not something you can accept, then this is it.”

Now Harry was the silent one. But sometimes you don’t need words to say everything you mean.

“Okay then.” She nodded, went to the mantlepiece and took her clutch. “I’ll see ya around, I guess.”

And with that Y/N walked out of Harry’s apartment without a glance back.

***

Two and a half months later and he still couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He was at the New Year party, and Y/N was there too, courtesy of Sarah, who was their mutual friend and hosted it each year. This one was a lot more intimate, seeing as the pandemic, though contained, was still raging on, so only the closest and most important people in her life had been invited. Sarah'd been actually the one who introduced the two. Well, more so given them a shove in the right direction. A literal one at that.

The night had been absolute chaos and became an even bigger one when Y/N entered his life, Harry recalled. Drinks were flowing, bodies were moving in an erratic rhythm, most of them completely unaware of how the music boomed while voices shouted the incorrect lyrics and glasses clinked as everyone celebrated the upcoming year, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the countdown. That’s when Sarah, pulling a woman by her arm stormed towards Harry and pushed her into his chest.

“Do not let her leave your sight!” she’d hollered over the music, as Harry blinked at his drummer. “And you!” Sarah pointed at the woman, who giggled, hiding behind her champagne glass and slinking further down Harry’s frame, so much so, he had to grab onto her armpits otherwise she would fall. “Behave for at least five minutes! I need to check up on Mitch before he decides vodka would be a good addition and completely destroys the room.”

With that Sarah was gone, brown hair swishing in a high ponytail, leaving Harry confused and concerned as this stranger snickered behind Sarah’s back, showing her tongue like a child would.

“Umm,” he started not really knowing what to do. “You alright there?”

“ ‘M Y/N.” She leaned up with as much grace as a drugged-up cat, spun around to face him and extended her hand to him, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. “And I might be a lil’ bit drunk.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t say?”

“I do.” Y/N nodded confidently about her statement as she swayed on her feet. Harry had to grab her by the shoulder for the woman to remain somewhat upright. “And when I’m drunk, I thrive on chaos.”

“Is that why Sarah shoved you to me so I can babysit you?”

“See, she just doesn’t appreciate me and my talents. She thinks that I’m ‘unreliable’.” Y/N put the word in quotation marks, and in doing so, half her champagne spilt out of the flute. “And she thinks I need ‘supervision’.” There went the other half. “Honestly, it’s Sarah that needs to be looked after. It’s not me that set the curtains on fire.”

But the look on her face told Harry something different, and a smile bloomed on his face. “You set the curtains on fire?”

“I just told you, I didn’t.”

“Yes, well, your face is telling me a different story.”

Instantly Y/N facepalmed. “Stupid face. Can’t keep in check. Listen, the curtains were just…” She waved her hand around. “In the way of the flame. ‘S not my fault they’re made from such flammable material. Should’ve gotten more fire-resistant curtains, if you ask me.”

“Note taken – don’t let you near anything that can be set on fire or is fire.”

Y/N scoffed and gave Harry a side-eye. “As if you can tell me what to do. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“And why's that?”

“Stranger danger.” Y/N wagged her free index finger in Harry’s face accentuating each syllable.

“Well then, let’s not be strangers.” He extended his hand just as Y/N had and waited until she took it. “ ‘M name’s Harry.”

“Good to meet you, Harry. Now, Sarah said nothing about not letting me dance, so come on! I love this song!” she exclaimed, making Harry throw his head back in laughter as she dragged him to the middle of the room, bodies grinding against them, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Y/N made Harry feel as if it was just the two of them in the world.

“Do you now?”

“Yes! Especially when he does the ‘da – dananana da – dananana’ part.” Her eyes went wide with excitement and pride. “Sarah’s in this song as well! She's the drummer!”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Y/N clearly had no idea who she was talking to, and he was kind of loving her for it. Most of the time, as flattering as it was, it could become quite taxing when people recognised you with every step of the way. He wasn’t really allowed to have his smile leave his face, nor was he allowed to stay too lost in his thoughts, needing to be on constant alert if someone asked something.

But Y/N seemed to not care, and something in Harry told him – she wouldn’t care about it if she knew the truth.

“Wanna hear a secret?”

Y/N gasped, eyes twinkling in the disco ball light. “Of course! I love secrets.”

“I’m Harry!”

“I know you’re Harry. You said it already.”

Her confused face made his smile widen even more. “No, I mean I’m Harry. Harry Styles. This is my song.”

And then it dawned on her inebriated brain. “Ooh. You’re Harry Styles!”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you then!” And she put up her hand in a high-five, and he couldn’t leave her just hanging like that, belly-shaking laughter erupting from him before he weaved their fingers together and spun her around.

That night had been one of the best New Year’s he’d ever had. Throughout the hour before the clock struck 12, she’d sobered up enough that when Harry asked if he could kiss her, she was coherent and could say yes. It’d been the best kiss of their lives by that point.

But now, seeing Y/N walk around Sarah’s apartment a smile on her face that he recognised to be fake, and laughter ringing in his ears that he knew wasn’t true, made him look back at that night and wonder if she’d been truly happy then.

She definitely seemed to have been, fuck, Harry hoped she was happy for at least some of it; that when Y/N said she was alright, she’d truly meant it, otherwise, he had no idea what he’d do with himself, but in all honesty, despite the fallout between the two, what he wished was for her to come back. To give him the slightest glimpse into what worried her. That would be enough.

In the beginning, Harry supposed, it was his own fault. He’d thought Y/N was just strong, she was so level-headed that whenever something was wrong, it was tackled immediately and righted that exact second, but in truth, it was just hiding, putting on a performance and living through a smile that was a complete lie.

He saw Sarah lean into Y/N and whisper something in her ear before her head snapped in Harry’s direction, Y/E/C eyes meeting his. He then watched her let out a breath, give Sarah a small smile and look at him once more before approaching, Harry’s own back straightening out as she opened the balcony door and entered his space.

She was a vision, a black and gold glitter romper covering her body, cinched at the waist with a solid gold-colour metal band, while the sleeves fluttered off in a ‘Morticia Addams’ style, as Y/N liked to call it, with her hair out of the way of her face in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Easy to make and easy to take out.

“Bobby pins are the creations of the Devil,” she’d muttered one night after they’d gone to some Hollywood event. Harry couldn't even remember what it'd been for, most of his focus on making sure his date was alright.

One by one she'd untwisted and twirled the metal pins out of her head. “Fucking, scraping my brain from the outside of my skull.”

Harry had chuckled, untying the lace front of his blouse style shirt. “Wanna massage?”

The affirmative groan made him grin like a child on Christmas.

Y/N was the one to break the silence, after having her eyes rake over his own form. A fitted chequered suit paired with a simple dress shirt and chequered moccasins. One of the tamer looks for him, but he wasn’t feeling very festive this year.

“Hey.”

Harry sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

God, how had everything become so fucking awkward between them?

“How,” she cleared her throat, “how are you?”

“Honestly?” Harry wanted to spit out the ‘I’m fine’, the line that was so overused by her it’d lost its meaning, but he couldn’t. He’d always been an open book, especially with Y/N, so he told her the truth. “I’m hurting.”

“Harry…” Her eyes met the floor unable to hold his green gaze.

“Every day I wake up, and I’m in pain. And it’s not getting easier. And it won’t. Not for a long while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He laughed even though he didn’t mean it. “I just wanted you to talk to me. You know I’d never judge you.”

“It’s not about that…”

“Then what is it?” Harry snapped. “Because I’m at a fucking loss here. Have been for the past two and a half months.”

“It’s not easy when…” Y/N actually bit down on her tongue to not let the words out. She took in a calm, collected breath; then she continued. “It’s not easy to open up like you want me to when my whole life I’ve been taught to just push it down. Push it away, forget about it. I don’t know a different life. That’s my normal, that’s what I know. I know you wouldn’t have judged me, you’re not that kind of a person. But it’s not even about that. It’s… it’s… why couldn’t you have just left everything at ‘I’m fine’?”

“Because I don’t want to be fine,” he said, sad eyes looking right through her, right through to Y/N’s being. “I – I wanna be great, and ecstatic and fucking exhilarated or hurting or sad, even devastated. I want to feel things. And I want to share them with the person I trust most. I wanna share them with you. And I want you to share your emotions with me too. It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your own. That’s what a partner is there for.”

Y/N broke away from Harry’s eyes given how her own were now lined with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She sniffled, using the sleeve of her romper to press against her nose.

New Years. When the previous one had started off with so much love and hope and laughter and the new one seemed to only show it had tears and heartache ahead. God, this was the worst holiday in existence.

“Ten, nine, eight,” the people inside counted down.

“Y/N, please.” One last try. He had to.

“Seven, six, five.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know how to be different."

“Three, two, one! Hap–“

“Happy New Year, Harry.” Y/N leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “I hope you find someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

With hands in her pockets, she retreated leaving him standing alone on the balcony, but right as she was about to close the sliding door, he spoke up.

“I had.”

That made Y/N spin around, cold air hitting her face just as harshly as the truth that spilt past his lips.

“Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: Part 2? maybe??

P.S. my tags are always open :)

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nooneelsecomesclose17 · 3 years

Text

I saw my love walking down the aisle

So I don't think Robert would do this fresh out of prison, because he'll feel like he really doesn't deserve Aaron anymore, but let's just have fun because reality is boring.

(AO3 link)

"...if anyone has any objections to the marriage, please state them now."

Ben winked at him because who would? His family were almost giddy with happiness and he's sure if he turned round his Mum would be crying while trying to keep hold of Eve who had recently decided that being held was bad and tried to escape at every opportunity. Ben's family were all smiles when he'd met them earlier.

There was no one who was going to object to the marriage.

It was just a whisper and he thought he was imagining it, nerves getting the better of him, but then it got louder and then he heard footsteps on the ballroom floor, gasps following them.

"I do. I object." He'd known, from the first whisper, that voice would never be strange to him, he heard it in his dreams almost every night.

If he turns round he might not be there. Maybe he's dreaming now, perhaps that's what all of this is, just a dream and then he'll wake up back in his bed, familiar blonde hair tickling his chest as Robert fidgets in his sleep.

He couldn't be here, he just couldn't.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you're in the wrong place."

"Aaron." He almost smiles at the fact that Robert's clearly just ignoring Ben completely but then he remembers what's actually going on and he turns around, hands balling into fists.

"Why are you here?" He almost gasps because even though he's different, there's lines on his face that weren't there before, he's thinner, and his hair is a mess, but he's still Robert, the man he loves, the man he married. "I don't understand."

"They let me go."

It's like there's no one else in the room and it's only Ben's hand on his arm that drags him out of that fantasy.

"This is Robert?" The way he says his name sets his teeth on edge, a hint of disdain, like he's better than him. He just nods, eyes not leaving Robert's, can't get his brain to hang onto a single thought. "You need to go mate."

"I'm not your mate."

"Whatever. Me and Aaron are getting married."

"Well we'll see won't we."

He isn't fast enough to stop him, Ben's fist flying out, catching Robert's chin, and he comes round enough to drag him away before he can do any more damage. Robert, the bastard, just laughs and it makes him shiver. It's a laugh of someone who's been punched too often, that it just rolls off him now.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You're asking me that? He's the one bursting in on our wedding!"

He turns to look at him, still holding his chin, eyes dark but staring right at him. "If you tell me to go I will."

The silence goes on because he knows he should, Ben's been good to him and he likes him he does, and how will it look to everyone if he just runs off.

"Well? Are you going to tell him to go? Aaron?"

"I..." He should, he knows that, it's the right thing, they only end up hurting each other, but he can't find the words.

"He left you, he threw what you had away and then he cut you off, divorced you without a word. Where was he when Liv was struggling? When you needed someone? He was nowhere. I was there, I was the one helping you."

"I know." Another look at Robert sees him looking ashamed, and it kills him. "Can you just...I need a minute." Ben looks furious but he nods. He daren't look at his Mum, probably the only thing holding her back is Cain because he can't believe she hasn't tried to bundle Robert out all on her own. "Come on."

Robert follows him, leaving a buzz of noise behind him. He finds an empty room along the corridor, slamming the door shut behind them.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Stopping you from making a mistake."

"What would you know about it? You don't know anything about my life anymore. That was your choice! You can't just come in here and...how did you know about it anyway?"

"Vic. She doesn't know I'm here, she would've killed me. I heard her and Diane talking this morning." He'd invited her, and Diane, feeling weird about it but he'd known them both long before Robert, but a couple of days before they'd both cried off, telling him Harry wasn't well, which was obviously a lie. "So, Ben seems..."

"Don't."

"Boring. Or maybe he just makes a bad impression?" Of course he can't help himself. At least he's not half cut this time, and singing badly. "All of this was his idea I suppose?"

"Robert just shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know you. I know that fancy hotels, tons of guests and I'm guessing tiny little canapés aren't you. I know that when you're happy, truly happy you can see it in your eyes. They shine and they're an even deeper blue than normal."

"I love him." It sounds fake even to him and he doesn't know why he's bothering.

"Do you? Honestly?"

"That's none of your business." He can't help himself, reaches out to touch the bruise on his chin, already angry and red. "You idiot."

"I've had worse."

"Don't." He doesn't want to think about it, can't let him in because if he does, that'll be it. "How are you even here?"

"I got out on appeal." He's staring out of the window now, but Aaron knows he's not here anymore, he's back there. "Some solicitor friend of Vic's wrote to me. Seems like Luke had a fight with his brother the same day I hit him. He said it was a really small chance but he owed her...found someone who said it couldn't be proved which blow actually killed him." He can barely take it in, will ask him more later, his mind still catching up with itself.

"Did Vic know?" Robert nods. "When?"

"I called her the day of the hearing. A week ago."

"You've been out a week? And you didn't tell me?"

"She said...well I wanted you to move on didn't I? Live your life. When she told me I accepted it, I did, but when I woke up this morning I couldn't just let you go without giving it one more try. Was going to try and find out but then I heard her." Aaron sinks onto the arm of a chair, overwhelmed with anger, at Luke, at Vic for not telling him, and relief that Robert was out, not in that place anymore. "I meant what I said, if you tell me to go I will."

"You'd let me marry him?"

"I'd let you be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you. I would've done anything for that to happen." He comes back over, sits in front of him. "I mean it, if you really are happy with him, if there's no way you and me can ever happen then I'll go, I'll move away, whatever you want."

"You'd leave your family, for me?"

"I...I don't think I can stand seeing you and him. Vic would understand."

There's no question, he knows that, has known it ever since he'd heard Robert's voice. Ben's right, he has been there, has helped him, but if he's truly honest with himself there's always been this feeling of guilt, or an obligation, like he should be grateful that Ben's interested after everything. He'd thought it was just reluctance on his part after Robert, but now he knows different.

"You'd really let me go?"

"If it's what you want, yeah." He looks stricken at the thought however much he tries to hide it.

"I want you." He whispers after what feels like ages. "I've always wanted you, even when I was hating you."

"Yeah?" It's a whisper and it has him on his feet, holding onto Robert for dear life, for whatever's happened to him inside. He's never letting go again.

"What did you tell me once? It's you and me, always has been, always will be."

"You remember that?" The look of embarrassment on his face makes Aaron smile because it really wasn't one of his finest moments. Despite that it was probably one of Aaron's favourite moments because even though they were broken up and Robert was making a holy show of himself, the words had meant everything to him.

"Vividly." Robert laughs and then he's kissing him and not stopping until there's a quiet knock on the door, then Cain's poking his head round the door.

"Right then. I guess that answers everyone's question." Robert's laughing against his shoulder and he slaps a hand against his arm to shut him up. "Your Mum is about to storm in here so..."

"I suppose I should talk to Ben." He really didn't want to, didn't want to face him because he was the one at fault wasn't he, for going this far when he'd known deep down it wasn't what he wanted, but then he'd thought he couldn't have what he wanted.

"He, uh...he left." Cain look uncomfortable, scratching his chin and looking back out the door.

"Oh. Right, well...I best explain to everyone else then."

"There's just our lot, and well most of us knew the minute that lump turned up."

"Cheers Cain., nice to see you too."

"You hurt him again and they'll not find a trace of ya, got that."

"I won't." With that Cain goes and the two of them fall into hysterical laughter.

"So, what now?"

"Well...I'm guessing Mill is full of all his stuff?" Aaron nods. "Vic's is full of...well Vic, and I can't help noticing that we're in a very fancy hotel."

"Very fancy. Very pricey. Especially the honeymoon suite." He's smiling though.

"I do like a good hotel if you remember." He shakes his head at him. They need to talk, they're not fixed just because of this and he knows Robert's putting on a front, but right now he doesn't care. He just wants Robert.

"Be rude to let it go to waste then, wouldn't it?"

#idk what this is #but i really want robert bursting into their wedding #robron fic #ben tucker #but he doesn't hang around long

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naralanis · 4 years

Text

To learn to want (and to love)

“What is it that you want, exactly, Hermione?”

Hermione has to blink, bleary-eyed and not entirely alert. She’s been reading the same paragraph on Transfiguration Today for the past ten minutes or so, and her reading glasses are practically dangling off her nose she’s so out of it, so Ron’s question takes her by surprise.

“I--uh, what?” she stutters, pushing the spectacles up and turning to face him. The lamp on his side of the bed is still on, and it illuminates the circles under his eyes, his slightly receding hairline, and, most importantly, his frown.

“What do you want out of this, Hermione? We’re not--” the words seem to elude him for a moment, so Ron opts for just vaguely gesticulating around the space between them, a gulf in their bed that has been steadily widening for the past decade or so. “We’re just going through the paces here. What are we doing??” He finally huffs out.

It takes Hermione by surprise, but it also doesn’t. She’s not an idiot, she knew the signs were there; she had just chosen to ignore them because they didn’t necessarily bother her at all. She hadn’t thought they bothered Ron either, because he certainly never thought to bring them up -- not when the sex stopped, or when their casual, affectionate touches seemed to fizzle out, not even when they went most of their days not saying anything other than ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ to one another.

Maybe she had been a little too willfully ignorant.

She wants to answer him honestly, she does, but instinctively she knows that’s not exactly what he wants to hear. So Hermione shrugs her shoulders and blows out a weary sigh.

“I’m not unhappy.”

Ronald visibly deflates, as she had predicted. He runs a hand over his hair -- it’s mussed and sticking out at all angles -- and he sighs so low and defeated Hermione can’t help but feel terrible about it. It isn’t his fault -- it isn’t hers, either, which somehow makes this worse.

His gaze meets hers and he looks so sad, but there’s a little smile tugging at his lips, like he’s trying to be happy for her sake.

“But you’re not happy.”

Well.

The divorce comes easier and quicker than anyone ever expected, and Hermione is simultaneously surprised and a little bit miffed that it doesn’t seem to catch any of their friends and family off-guard. Even Rose shrugged when she and her brother came by during Easter, saying something along the lines of “honestly, I saw it coming” and going back to her crème eggs.

Hugo, on the other hand, had been inconsolable and angry, and he unfairly directed all of that emotion towards his father, who did nothing more than take it and tell Hermione they would deal with it. Hugo returns to Hogwarts still acting a little cold, but he gives Ronald a hug at the platform and deep down Hermione knows they’ll be OK.

She lets Ron keep the house, because she never really felt any huge attachment to the place and knows he has some pride in the brick walls he erected himself, in the picket-fence he painstakingly paints over every summer or so. They still meet regularly for family dinners, they go out with their friends, and somehow it’s easy, like pressure had been lifted.

Ron helps her move into her new flat in the heart of Muggle London, grumbling all the way about the five floor walk-up where magic is not allowed. Rose enjoys the little reading nook Hermione made for her in her room, and Hugo thaws considerably at the brightly decorated bedroom full of Chudley Cannons posters.

It’s better, for them. Different, but better.

Hermione finds herself enjoying her work more. With no husband to come home to, and the kids away at Hogwarts for most of the year, she stays later, looking over complex runes and equations with more gusto than she’s experienced in years. She almost feels like a student again.

Sometimes -- when Ron goes on dates, or maybe when Ginny needles her enough after a round or three of Butterbeers at the Leaky Cauldron -- Hermione wanders if there’s anything she should be wanting. She’s content, she’s fine. She’s not exactly thriving, but she can’t figure out what on Earth she could possibly want, so she pushes it aside and laughs along whenever Harry jokes about her settling for things too easily.

It’s random and undeniably odd, when it happens. Hermione’s focusing hard on a tricky little rune she came up with while mildly intoxicated with Ginny last week, and now her sober brain cannot make heads or tails of it. She’s so entranced she misses the three insistent knocks, her door swinging open and a harried woman rushing into her office.

“Goodness’ sakes, Miss Granger! Hello!”

She jumps when a hand is impatiently waved right in front of her face, and then she almost falls out of her chair when she finally sees Narcissa Malfoy staring up at her.

Hermione has no time for a greeting, because suddenly Narcissa tosses a loud, buzzing object at her and practically hissing as she speaks. “Please make this bloody thing stop!”

Hermione’s reflexes barely kicked in time for her to catch...

“Is this an iPhone??” She manages to squeak as the device buzzes and trills, the screen going absolutely nuts with colours.

“I don’t care what it is, will you please silence it without destroying it?”

Eyebrows shooting up and jaw snapping closed, Hermione dutifully turns it off, and Narcissa’s breath of relief is loud and heavy.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the thing back from Hermione between thumb and forefinger, as if touching it disgusted her. “Draco gave me this bloody thing, I have no idea...”

Somehow, Hermione hears the whole story about how Draco is “in” with Muggle technology and gave his mother a smartphone to help her “keep up with the times,” a statement that offended Narcissa to no end, and Hermione laughs as the blonde tells her. Somehow, she forgives Narcissa’s blustering intrusion and even teaches her how to turn the contraption off when walking into heavily warded areas such as the Ministry, because that can make some Muggle technology go haywire. Somehow, they end up talking for about an hour and Hermione forgets all about her runes, because wouldn’t you know it, Narcissa is a surprisingly easy person to talk to.

And so, Hermione accepts her offer of lunch the next day as a thank-you for the whole iPhone incident.

They meet in a swanky little bistro at Covent Garden and Hermione almost walks right past Narcissa, because the woman is wearing dark wash jeans and a bloody t-shirt, with her hair up in a sleek ponytail and cat-eye sunglasses perched on her head. She does a double-take when Narcissa waves her to their table, and Hermione teaches her a bit more about the phone, genuinely impressed to learn that Narcissa has now got FaceTime down pat.

Hermione doesn’t remember how exactly they end up making plans to meet again the following week, but it happens. And then, the next week, and the week after that, until Hermione just blocks out her lunch-time every Wednesday on her calendar. Ginny comments on the meetings with a laugh and a raised eyebrow, but Hermione brushes that off.

They talk, a lot. About everything and nothing, all at once, and Hermione comes to find that Narcissa is not only smart, she’s wicked smart. Like, knows complex arithmancy smart, like ‘I invent potions for fun’ smart, like ‘yes I know basically all the constellations, what of it?’ smart. Narcissa has a wealth of knowledge to share and seems happy to do so with Hermione, who soaks it all up like an eager sponge, leaving their lunches happy and sated from more than just the food.

That isn’t to say Hermione doesn’t teach Narcissa a thing or two, either, iPhone incident aside. Hermione talks her ears off about Muggle authors (Narcissa is absolutely enamored by anything of Agatha Christie’s and the thought tickles Hermione to no end), and she also teaches her all about the Muggle painters of centuries past (Narcissa is inexplicably fond of Vermeer). Once, on a whim, Hermione presents two tickets to Les Misérables in the West End, and Narcissa just sobs the entire time while Hermione just hands her tissue after tissue.

Narcissa learns that Hermione puts her milk in before her tea and they have a spirited argument about it, because the blonde is simply affronted, and it ends with Hermione not-so-begrudgingly vowing to switch it around. Hermione learns that Narcissa has never been on a roller-coaster, so Hermione takes her to The Big One in Blackpool and learns the hard way that Narcissa gets motion sick very, very easily.

Before she knows it, this thing with Narcissa has lasted over a year, and both Rose and Hugo ask her if she’s planning on inviting the woman over for Christmas, and that’s when Hermione’s thoughts grind to a halt, because she had not even considered it, but now that the idea has been planted in her head, she wants, wants, wants.

She wants to invite Narcissa over, so she does, and the Slytherin comes bearing gifts that make Hermione’s children and her ex-husband squeal in delight (to be fair, the dragon-ivory chess set Ron received was lovely, if a bit excessive). And as they eat their roast and drink wine, Hermione gets lost in the vibrancy of Narcissa’s smile and the glimmer of her eyes in the candle-light of her dining room and suddenly she wants, wants, wants.

She wants their parting hug to last a little longer, she wants the kiss Narcissa bestowed upon her cheek to be a few centimeters to the left, she wants to hold on tighter and ask Narcissa to stay the night because she can’t bear to part with her just yet.

And, like that, something suddenly just clicks in her head; a feeling slots itself into place inside her chest and Hermione is a bit overwhelmed, because she’s never quite wanted so much before and she doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s Ron who helps her, in the end. She calls him up (on his brand new iPhone -- Merlin those caught on fast) and he comes over immediately, finding her pacing her living room thrumming with manic energy, and once she relays her predicament he just laughs until he can hardly breathe.

“‘Mione,” he says, shaking his head with fondness. “You fancy her. Of course you want to snog her senseless; frankly we’ve all been waiting for you to do something about it.”

Oh.

‘We all’ entails, apparently, literally everyone Hermione has ever met, including her landlady with whom she hardly talks but who somehow knows all about how often Narcissa comes by her place.

So Hermione makes a plan, because she wants, wants, wants to tell Narcissa about her recent discovery at New Year’s. She prepares accordingly, because she’s Hermione Granger and she won’t do anything by halves, so she writes out her confession in about sixteen inches of parchment and carries it nervously with her all through the party.

And Narcissa is absolutely radiant, enough to make Hermione forget all about those thoughts carefully penned to parchment. Hermione wants to dance closer and closer to her, she wants to rest her hands on her waist and sway with her, she wants to tilt her face just so and breathe the same air until their lips brush together.

Narcissa looks at her like she can read Hermione’s mind, and maybe she can; maybe she can see all the want shimmering through Hermione’s eyes, because Hermione never had a great poker face to begin with. And, to her surprise (not to mention relief), Hermione sees that want reflected on beautiful, beautiful azure, so she follows Narcissa beckoning finger until they’re pressed together and the dance-floor fades away to nothing.

Hermione wants, wants, wants, and finally, finally, Hermione gets it.

#cissamione #hermione granger #narcissa malfoy #harry potter #harry potter femslash #word vomit #i may have burned dinner slightly while writing this #surprise Ron is Not a Dick #Hermione figures shit out

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smolfelton · 4 years

Note

Draco secretly has curly/wavy hair, Harry loses his fucking mind when he finds out. Which is several months to a year after they start dating. How he missed it, nobody knows

I loved writing this! I’m a sucker for Draco’s hair, ya know? This drabble turned out a bit longer than I expected because I’m a whore for a good plot, but the more words the merrier, eh?

Harry loved Draco’s hair. It was probably his favourite physical aspect about his boyfriend. That, along with his dick, of course.

Harry and Draco had begun dating soon after Harry’s 24th birthday party, to which Draco had been invited to on a whim. They’d started working together as aurors the year prior, and Harry thought it would be a good idea to invite him to perhaps begin a friendship of some sort. The celebration had been held in a newly renovated 12 Grimmauld Place by Ron and Hermione, and all of his friends, some former professors, and nearly the entire aurors force had arrived. He didn’t actually expect Draco to show up to the party, but when he did, Harry was pleasantly surprised.

And show up, Draco did.

His emerald green robes had been tailored to perfection, with silver trim along the edges and a thin, hourglass-shaped waist that just screamed ‘squeeze me!’. But what caught Harry’s eye the most was Draco’s hair. His long, beautiful, platinum blond hair had been tied into a loose braid and was slung over his shoulder oh-so prettily, and Harry couldn’t keeps his eyes off of him.

“Potter,” Draco said with a nod upon entering.

“M-Malfoy,” Harry managed to stutter out, his face turning red with heat. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Are you now?” Draco said more than asked. At that, he smirked, his silver eyes gleaming as he strutted away into the crowd.

Draco had never worn his hair down at work. Every day since he had arrived at the office a year ago, it had been tied up into a tight bun, not a single strand of hair able to escape it’s confines. Harry never bothered to wonder what it looked like down before, but now that he finally knew, he never wanted to see it hidden again. And it most certainly hadn’t helped him when it came to his long-rooted crush on the bloke.

Harry hadn’t exactly been subtle in his gawking at Draco that night. The blond man noticed his staring immediately, and instead of scaring him away, it only made him come closer. Draco would smirk and saunter around Harry, never more than a few steps from him throughout the entire party. Harry had watched him with intent, becoming jealous when Draco started laughing with Anthony Goldstein by the punch bowl, or fuming when Zacharias Smith slung his arm over Draco’s shoulder near the fireplace.

Harry hadn’t expected Draco to finally approach him again at around midnight that night. He especially hadn’t been expecting the way Draco was blatantly flirting with him, complimenting his clothes and his new glasses and his recent promotion and ‘My, aren’t you looking quite fit today, Potter.’” It wasn’t until after the two shared a few shots of firewhiskey, that Harry finally managed to summon his Gryffindor courage and pull Draco away.

“Where are you taking me, Potter?” Draco asked with a sultry voice.

"Just come,” Harry said, his mind buzzing.

“Oh my,” Draco practically giggled as he was pulled.

They ended up shagging in Harry’s upstairs broom closet later that night, at around half-past-one, protected only by a simple silencing charm.

A few days later, it was Draco who asked Harry out first. They went on a few dates, had a good shag or two, and were official boyfriends by the end of the month. Soon after, Draco quickly realised that Harry was quite taken with his hair, always looking at it and often running his fingers through it when he got the chance. Draco then took to wearing his hair down more often, just for Harry, though he would never admit it out loud.

A year or so passed and the two had moved into a flat out in muggle London. ‘Potter’s idea’, Draco would say, but deep down they both knew that he was just excited as well. Sometimes they both needed an escape from the magical world, to not be recognized as The Chosen One and a Pureblood Ex-Death Eater. At home, they were just Harry and Draco, and they were happy.

But Draco was hiding something.

It started immediately when they moved in together two months ago. Harry noticed that Draco would go into the bathroom perhaps four or five times a day, and wouldn’t come out for long amounts of time. Harry asked once, and was answered with a ‘Don’t be so nosy, Potter’ and didn’t ask again. At least, until one day he noticed something different about Draco.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, finishing his breakfast, when he looked over at Draco and realised that there was something different about him.

“Oh, I never noticed those before,” Harry said, slightly surprised.

Draco turned from where he stood by the counter, blowing delicately on his cup of tea, his sharp blond eyebrow raised in question.

“Noticed what, Potter?” Draco asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Your hair’s like... wavy at the bottom,” Harry said.

Draco seemed to freeze, his face turning even more pale than usual, which concerned Harry. It was true, though. Draco’s hair had grown far down his back over the last year, and Harry noticed that towards the end it turned into pretty waves, reminding him of sea. He’d never seen it look like that before.

Instead of saying anything, Draco simply sat his cup of tea down and walked quickly out of the room and to the upstairs bathroom. Harry followed and knocked on the door, worried by the way Draco was acting. It was only hair, after all, and Harry just thought that perhaps it had been a new hairstyle Draco was going for. But why would he get upset when Harry pointed it out?

“Love, are you okay?” Harry asked when Draco didn’t answer.

“I’m fine, Potter,” Draco replied through the door, his voice sounding very strange. “Now do go away, please.”

“What’s wrong?”

No answer.

“You can talk to me, Draco,” Harry tried once again. “If there’s anyth-”

“I said go away,” Draco suddenly snapped.

Harry frowned, but obeyed. He went back downstairs to watch TV, and Draco didn’t come out for nearly an hour. This time though, his hair was perfectly straight, as usual. Draco sat on the sofa beside Harry and cuddled up beside him, as if nothing had happened beforehand.

“Are you-”

“What are we watching?” Draco asked, cutting him off.

Harry didn’t bring it up again, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a willing answer out of his boyfriend. So instead, he set his plan in motion.

Two days later after work, Harry made his move. Draco sat at his desk, going over the last of his paperwork that needed to be finished, while mostly everyone else had left. Harry walked up behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders, then planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to the pub with Ron and Hermione. Want to come?” Harry asked, inwardly hoping that he would say no.

Draco sighed with a smile and shook his head. “As much as I would love to get shitfaced with you, Granger, and the weasel, I can’t. I have to finish the last of these, and tomorrow morning I’m having brunch with my parents.”

“Oh,” Harry said with a pout. “Are you sure, love?”

“Yes, dear,” Draco chuckled and turned to press a kiss to Harry’s lips. “Just don’t be out too late. And make sure you floo home safely, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “I love you.”

“Of course you do,” Draco smirked and went back to his paperwork.

Harry quickly left after that, flooing home and changing into his normal muggle clothes before he grabbed his invisibility cloak and waited upstairs. Thirty minutes later he heard the floo roar, signaling that Draco was home, and ran into the bathroom. He positioned himself behind the open door and threw the cloak over himself, then waited patiently for his boyfriend.

Five minutes later Draco came into the bathroom and closed the door, still dressed in his auror uniform with his hair held in a high ponytail. He pulled his hair free from the band and shook it loose, the long straight locks that Harry loved so much shining beneath the bathroom light. Draco then lifted his wand and pointed it at his hair, and he whispered a quick finite incantatem.

Suddenly, gone was the straight long hair that Harry knew and loved. His green eyes went wide when the straight hair suddenly became wavy, loose curls. The curls made his hair appear shorter, now falling to the middle of his back rather than the bottom, but Harry could care less. All he could do was watch in awe as Draco undressed to take a shower, the waves swaying in the movement. He was so enraptured that he couldn’t help the tiny noise that escaped his lips when Draco pulled his shirt off.

Draco froze and looked up when he heard the sound, then threw his shirt to the floor and grabbed his wand off the sink counter. He held it in a firm grasp and pointed it in Harry’s general direction.

“Who’s there?” he asked, using his firm auror voice. “Show yourself!”

Harry quickly pulled the cloak off, knowing that his boyfriend wouldn’t hesitate to attack an intruder in the home. He held his hands up in mock surrender and felt terrible when he noticed the way Draco’s face changed into a look of horror, his body becoming stiff as he lowered his wand. The blond man then looked to the floor in what Harry could only assume was shame, his pale face tinted a slight shade of pink.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked, taking a step forward.

“You spied on me,” Draco gritted out, jaw clenched.

“Yes, and I’m sorry, love,” Harry said honestly. “But I had to know. Why did you hide your real hair from me?”

“It’s none of your business,” Draco said and turned away from him.

“Why, Draco?” Harry asked again, moving forward to gently put his hand on his boyfriend’s back. “Tell me. Please.”

Draco was silent for what seemed like eternity. Harry moved closer and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, then pressed his nose to the crook of his neck. He held him tightly, not planning to let go until he got an answer.

“It’s ugly,” Draco suddenly whispered.

“What?” Harry pulled his face back, surprised. “Your hair?”

“Yes, Potter,” Draco snapped, his shoulders beginning to tremble. “My hair is ugly and stupid and I didn’t want you to know what it really looked like! I didn’t want anyone to know! But n-now-” Draco cut himself off and put a hand over his own mouth, his voice beginning to tremble in the end, which was a telltale sign that he was going to cry.

Harry turned him around in his arms until Draco was facing him. His hand covered his mouth and his silver eyes were filled with unshed tears, and he looked anywhere but at his boyfriend. Harry’s heart ached for Draco, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the man’s forehead.

“Oh, love,” Harry said as he pulled away. “Your hair is beautiful.”

“Stop lying,” Draco’s voice was muffled behind his hand, and a single tear fell down his pale cheek. Harry used a thumb to wipe it away.

“I’m not, Draco,” Harry insisted. “Your hair- your real hair- is so fucking beautiful. How can you think it’s ugly? Why would you say that?”

“Because it is,” Draco said, pulling his hand from his mouth and sniffing, doing his best to hold back his tears. “All my life I’ve hidden it. My father hated it when I was little, so my mother would use a spell every day to straighten it. Even when I went to Hogwarts I would have to fix it nearly three times a day, and if I didn’t and my father found out, he would... well, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like it’s your father who thinks it’s ugly,” Harry said. “Not you.”

Draco bit his lip.

“Look, love,” Harry said, taking Draco’s chin between his fingers and turning his head to face the bathroom mirror. “Look at your hair. It’s so bloody gorgeous, I think I could cry. I thought I loved it before, but now I don’t think I ever want to see it straight again.”

Draco finally looked at himself, his face filled with uncertainty.

“Do... Do you really like it?” Draco asked tentatively.

“I love it, Draco,” Harry said, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Draco said nothing. Instead, he returned Harry’s embrace and pressed his face into the crook of his neck. Harry felt a few warm tears soak his collar, but he said nothing about it. He simply rubbed Draco’s back as they held each other, ready to hold on for as long as it took. Even if he had to stand there all day.

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco said and pulled away after what seemed like forever. “Can I... Can I really wear it like this? Just at home, though?”

“Absolutely, Draco,” Harry nodded. “The real you is my favourite you.”

Draco sniffed and looked into Harry’s green eyes, almost as if he were searching for some kind of lie. For some untruthfulness, or for Harry to change his mind and tell him he was just joking. But when Draco could find none of these, he smiled and moved forward to kiss him deeply. Harry returned the kiss, his hands holding onto Draco’s perfect bare waist while his even more perfect, wavy blond hair tickled his brown cheek. When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together comfortably.

“I love you,” Draco said.

“Of course you do,” Harry replied with a smile.

That night, Draco left his hair as it truly was. In bed, Harry ran his fingers through the long, silky waves until he was too tired to keep his eyes open anymore, and was happy when he woke up to a frizzy-haired Draco the next morning. Draco didn’t bother to straighten it, instead choosing to simply brush it before daring to face his parents during brunch with his blond waves.

When Draco returned home near noon with a smile so big that his cheeks had turned pink, Harry’s heart leaped with pride and joy. He kissed his beautiful boyfriend more times that day than he thought he ever had before, and no matter how many times Draco slapped his hands away, Harry’s fingers somehow always managed to return. After all, Harry loved Draco’s hair.

#drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #harry x draco #draco x harry #hpdm #dmhp #drabble #prompt #smolfelton

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years

Text

Miles & Black Coffee - Part Two

“If you’re thinking about taking the high road,

I can tell you that you’re doing it wrong,

There’s a better of way of letting it all go,

‘Cause you’ve been running from the feeling too long….”

-Highroad by Sir Woman

Hiya everyone! Sorry this is up a bit late, inspiration really just runs on its own clock. I’ll keep this short- giant thank you to @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h for beta-ing and being so so SO supportive. If you haven’t read their fics yet, go check them out! As always, I adore feedback! (4.1k words)

xoxoxoxoxoXO Tile

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

Read Part One here!

TUESDAY

Charlie was still sleeping soundly on her side of the bed when your alarm went off, so you tried your hardest to sneak out of the room without making a sound. Spending all day in the sun yesterday had been amazing; your heart felt full, your muscles were relaxed, and you were ready to do it all over again.

Unfortunately, you also felt a bit gross. Between the warm weather, lakewater, and sunscreen, your skin was feeling like it needed it a good rinse. The thought of showering in the showerhouse wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was that or the garden hose, so you gathered up your shower caddy and a change of clothes before making your way out of the main cabin.

It was a beautiful morning, the perfect setup for another day of summer. Dewy blades of grass tickled your ankles as you cut across the lawn, a pleasant chill running through you at the contact. You’d tried to wake up early enough to have the shower house to yourself, not wanting to have an awkward run-in with anyone before you’d had a chance to fully wake up.

From the look of it, you’d succeeded. You listened for signs that anyone else was out and about, but all you could hear were the sounds of birds chirping and bugs buzzing, the nature around you having yet to be disturbed by rowdy college students.

Smoking on the boat the night before had turned out to be a great idea. The group had stayed out till the moon was the only light in the sky, only turning in when none of you could stop yawning. You hadn’t slept that deeply in a long time; it felt amazing to be so rested after a full school year of late nights and early mornings.

When you finally reached the shower house, you moved to pull the door open to have it swing forward and smack into you. You stumbled backwards, balancing yourself against the wall as you stared wide eyed at the person who’d nearly knocked you over.

“Whoa, sorry,” Ryan rushed apologetically, “I didn’t think anyone else would be up this early.”

“That’s okay,” you gulped, “I didn’t think anyone else was awake, either. I wanted the showers to myself.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair, “I’m all finished though, so it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” you giggled, “how was the water pressure?”

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “Better than I expected, but not great.”

“Lovely,” you sighed, slinging your towel over your shoulder. Ryan dragged his eyes down your frame quickly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You blushed as you realized that you were still in your pajamas. At least they were somewhat cute, little blue shorts with rubber duckies printed all over them and a plain white tank top.

The two of you were quiet for a moment, switching places so you were standing in the threshold of the shower house. He was too cute, sleepy eyes squinting in the sun as it grew brighter out.

“So, um, I was thinking of checking out this hiking trail today,” he blurted, cheeks tinted red, “Archie was going to come with me, but he drank his weight in white claw last night, so I’m thinking he might be too hungover to stomach it.”

“Where’s the trail?” You questioned.

“It’s on the other side of the lake, about two miles north. We were just gonna borrow a couple bikes from the shed,” he explained, playing with his hair some more, “but anyway, I was like, well, I was wondering if maybe you would wanna join me. I’d hate to go alone.”

“I’d love to!” You said eagerly. When he smirked at your excitement, you tried to play it cool. “I mean, uh, yeah. That sounds like it could be fun.”

“Great,” he chuckled, “I was thinking of leaving around eleven, gives us time to relax and have some breakfast. The trail itself should only take a couple hours, but there are a few detours I wanted to see. Is that cool with you?”

“Sounds awesome,” you nodded.

“Fantastic. I’ll find you in a bit?”

You nodded, bidding him farewell as he made his way back to the guest cabin. The moment the door shut behind you, you let out a quiet squeal. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and already you had a date with a cute boy. Plus, you were genuinely interested in the hiking trail; if it was anything like the forest around the cabin, it was sure to be gorgeous.

Ryan was right about the shower pressure. It was enough to make you feel clean and refreshed, but certainly left much to be desired. At least there was hot water.

By the time you made it back to your room, Charlie was up and about, playing upbeat music on her phone speaker and digging her toothbrush out of her bag.

“I can’t believe I forgot to brush my teeth last night,” she pretended to gag, “I literally passed out so hard. Didn’t even hear you get up this morning.”

“It was a long night,” you laughed, feeling amused as you watched her flit around the room to get ready for the day.

“And it’s gonna be another long day,” she sighed, “long, but fun. Olivia and I were gonna tan on the docks for a bit, if you wanna join?”

“Actually,” you tried to act nonchalant, “Ryan and I are going on a hike.”

You sat on the corner of the bed, sucking your lips into your mouth to keep your giddy smile at bay. You were really excited though, and Charlie seemed like just the right person to gush to.

“Ryan, huh?” She said, face scrunching up in confusion. “I would’ve thought you’d want to spend as much time with Harry as possible.”

You widened your eyes, letting out a loud burst of laughter that had you wheezing. “Harry? No way!”

“You and him aren’t a thing, then?” She asked, zipping her suitcase shut. “He was asking after you at the bonfire yesterday, and then insisted that he should check on you when you didn’t come down.”

A frown formed on your face. You specifically remember him saying that he’d just been using the restroom. Why would he want to check up on you, anyway? Surely he was just using it as an excuse to bother you. It was his favorite activity, after all.

“Well, no, we’re not a thing,” you said firmly.

“Ryan’s cute, too,” Charlie shrugged, “James and I had a moment yesterday, too, so hopefully we both get our cute summer romance this week.”

“Ooooh, James?” You waggled your eyebrows, happy to change the subject. Charlie flushed, biting down on her lip.

The two of you gossipped for a while longer, with Charlie organizing all of her belongings while you lounged on the bed. It was nice chatting with her; you weren’t the closest, but you’d always gotten along really well.

New romance, new friends, sunshine and nature. You could already tell that this was going to be a week to remember.

~~~

By the time you made your way into the kitchen, almost everyone had already had breakfast. Dishes were piled high in the small sink, streaks of what looked like pancake batter smeared across the countertop. You hated when people didn’t clean up after themselves, but you chose to ignore it for now.

What you couldn’t ignore, however, was Harry, who was sitting by himself at the table. He was also pouring a bowl of cereal, which wouldn’t have been a problem if your name wasn’t written across the box in black sharpie.

“Is that your cereal, Harry?”

You had a hand planted on your hip, eyebrows raised expectantly as you awaited his answer. He lazily glanced up from his phone, looking you over from head to toe before shrugging.

“Dunno, found it in the cupboard,” he muttered, jamming a spoonful into his mouth.

“Interesting, interesting,” you droned, biting the inside of your cheek, “did you stop for a moment to think that it might belong to somebody else?”

He shrugged again, not bothering to look away from his phone this time as he chewed slowly. You could tell he was holding back a smirk from the way his dimple indented into his cheek. He knew what he was doing, he always did.

With a huff, you walked over to him and snatched the box off of the table, turning it around and pointing at your name in bold letters.

“I wish you’d asked,” you snapped, opening the cabinet with more force than necessary to grab a bowl.

“Just figured we were all sharing food,” you heard him say.

You wanted to rip his breakfast out from under him, anything to get a reaction, but you just took a deep breath insead. Getting you worked up is exactly what he wanted, and you’d never give him the satisfaction

“If you’d read your sister’s e-mail, you’d know that any food that isn’t labelled is up for grabs. That cereal has my name on it.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged again, “I don’t really look at my e-mail.”

“Clearly,” you rolled your eyes.

He didn’t respond, and even though your skin was crawling with irritation, you figured it was best if you stopped talking. Even though he was being a pest, this behavior was relatively tame for him, and it would be a shame to ruin a perfectly good morning with a fight.

Well, that’s what you told yourself before you opened the fridge.

“Harry,” you warned through gritted teeth, “did you finish off the milk… and then put the empty carton back?”

“No,” he locked his phone, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning, “there are a few drops left in there.”

That was it. The absolute last straw.

“You are literally the most inconsiderate person I’ve ever met,” you seethed, shaking the empty carton in his direction before throwing it into the recycling bin. It didn’t seem to phase him.

“I think-”

“I don’t really care what you think,” you interrupted.

“-that you’re being dramatic.”

You were scowling so hard that your cheeks were beginning to hurt, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he was pushing your buttons in all the wrong ways. You dumped your bowl of dry cereal back into the box.

“I’m not being dramatic,” you hissed, “you’re just being a dick, but what else is new.”

“You really need to calm down,” he snorted, “a bunch of us were going to break out the kayak and race across the lake, do you wanna join?”

You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the idea that you’d want to spend more time with him, so you just shot him a dirty look, deciding to just skip breakfast. Sure, you were starving, but anything was better than spending one more second in Harry’s presence.

“I have other plans,” you snarled, turning your back to him and leaving the room.

“Really?” He asked, following you down the hallway. “Do they involve… I dunno, pulling the giant stick out of your ass?”

You practically growled, stopping so suddenly that Harry nearly ran into you.

“No,” your voice was strained, “Ryan asked me to go hiking with him, if you must know.”

For the first time all morning, the unbearable smirk on his face dropped into a frown.

“Just the two of you?” He prodded.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Why was he suddenly so interested?

“Yes, just the two of us,” you sighed, turning to walk away again, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be as far away from you as possible.”

He didn’t follow you this time, but you could feel him watching you go up the stairs. It bothered you to no end that he could get you so riled up. Next time, you would walk away at the first sign of trouble, because he truly wasn’t worth your energy.

Once you finished packing up a drawstring backpack with the hiking essentials, it was just about to time to meet Ryan, so you made your way over to the guest cabin. On the way there, you saw Harry pulling a kayak off of a metal rack, passing it to James like it weighed nothing. He looked a bit ridiculous, with his tie-dye shirt and a bandana in his hair.

“Hey,” you jumped at Ryan’s voice, “you ready to head out?”

You didn’t spare Harry a second glance when Ryan started raving about this amazing waterfall that he wanted to see. The day could only go up from here.

~~~

The rain had come out of nowhere.

It had been blue sky for miles for the entire hike, but the second you got back to the bikes at the trailhead, dark stormclouds had already started sprinkling. It had quickly turned into a downpour, soaking through your thin t-shirt in record time. Ryan wasn’t much better off as he pulled his helmet off, hair matted down on the top of his head.

Not to mention, it had been extremely buggy. Even with bug spray, they had been relentless. You were sure you had at least twenty bug bites all down your arms and legs.

Despite everything, you’d enjoyed yourself. You’d stayed out even longer than you planned, sitting by the waterfall and chatting. As soon as Ryan found out that you skipped breakfast, he’d given you half of his sandwich. He’d been a complete gentleman, taking your hand frequently to help you over a rough part of the trail, and even though neither of you specified, it felt like a date.

Conversation with him was easy, which was a major improvement from your awful morning. In fact, you barely even thought about Harry all afternoon, so distracted by Ryan and his nature commentary. The only time he’d come up was when you stopped for lunch.

“So what’s the deal with you and Harry?” Ryan had asked.

“Ugh,” you’d snarled, taking a pull from your water bottle “can we talk about literally anything else?”

“Oh,” Ryan had raised his eyebrows, “so, you’re not together?”

Immediately, you had choked on your sip of water, slapping your chest until you stopped coughing.

“Together?” You guffawed. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

He had blushed crimson, playing with the hair on the back of his head. “He talks about you a lot… and sometimes I notice you watching him.”

His comment had confused you, but you’d shrugged it off, assuring him that you and Harry weren’t, and never would be, together.

Now, the two of you were ditching your bikes in front of the cabin and sprinting towards the door to escape the awful weather. You found yourself giggling as you stumbled into the kitchen, wet, muddy footprints trailing behind you as you dropped your pack to the ground. It landed with a loud squelch, which only made you laugh harder.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you said, “I’m really glad you invited me.”

“Really?” He chuckled, catching his breath. “I thought it was a bit of a disaster, between the mosquitos, the rain… the mud….”

You both laughed, shaking your heads at your bad fortune. You were being truthful about having fun, though. Even though the day hadn’t gone according to plan, it was exactly the kind of adventure you’d wanted.

“Whatever,” you shrugged coyly, “I had good company.”

Ryan’s cheeks flushed crimson, and a sweet smile crept up his face. Even with mud caked across his neck, pine needles in his hair, and angry pink bug bites down his arms and legs, he still managed to look adorable. When his eyes darted down to your lips, you stepped forward.

“I’m really glad we’re both on this trip,” he said softly, placing a hand on your waist.

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning in closer.

Just as your lips were a hair away from brushing together, a crash from behind you had you jumping apart in alarm. You yelped loudly, your heart stopping for a beat before you spun around to face the culprit.

Of course it was Harry.

The first thing you noticed was his sunburn; all he was wearing was a pair of light gray sweatpants, so you could see how pink his chest had gotten. He resembled a deer in headlights as he stared at the floor below him, which was currently covered in the broken remnants of a shattered plate.

“Sorry,” he slurred, tip-toeing out from where the ceramic shards had scattered. Once he was clear, he stumbled over to the broom closet, swinging it open harshly as you and Ryan watched on awkwardly. After digging for a few seconds, he emerged with a broom and dustpan that looked like they were older than you.

“You scared us,” you bit out, heart finally slowing down to a normal rate.

“Oops,” his shoulders lifted in a shrug, He turned to start sweeping, but quickly did a double take. “What hap-… you guys look horrible. Why are you covered in mud?”

Irritation took over you as you watched him gape drunkenly at where you and Ryan were standing. Not only had he interrupted what was sure to be an epic kiss with Ryan, but then he’d nearly given you a heart attack by sneaking in and dropping the plate. Sure, it was an accident, but that didn’t make you feel any less angry. And now here he was, telling you that you looked horrible.Your foot started tapping against the floor rapidly on its own accord.

Just as you were about to chew him out for being a complete thorn in your side, he stumbled forward and hissed, lifting his bare foot into the air.

“Harry, you’re stepping on glass,” Ryan warned, rushing forward with a worried expression over his face, “and you’re barefoot. Why don’t you start getting ready for bed… I’ll clean this up, okay?”

He took the broom from Harry, shooing him away from the mess. You knew it was the responsible thing to do, but part of you was still disappointed that your moment with Ryan had been ruined.

“Will you help me up the stairs?” Harry asked you sheepishly, half-limping over to you, “can’t get the glass out of my foot….”

“Well, don’t try to take it out here,” you sighed with an eye roll, “let’s go up. We’ll have to clean it, too.”

“Aww, y’gonna take care of me?” He smirked.

“Don’t push your luck,” you snapped. He held his hands up in surrender, but you still wanted to slap the smug look off of his face. You turned to Ryan, who was still sweeping the plate shards into a pile, and shook your head apologetically. “See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, a sad little smile on his face. You made yourself a promise that you’d kiss him next time you were alone. It was only the second day, after all; you were positive that you’d find another moment. For now, though, you had to deal with a certain drunken fool, who was currently limping down the hall, tripping every other step as he tried to grip the wall for support.

“Hold on, you dimwit,” you sighed, rushing forward and slipping a hand around his waist.

“Ooh, we’re getting cosy,” he hummed. You weren’t going to dignify him with a response.

Harry’s skin was warm to the touch, a bit sticky with sunscreen but still smooth. You tried to ignore the shock that ran through you when you felt his back muscles shift… you knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… firm. Your mouth went dry.

He leaned practically his entire weight on you, nearly forcing your knees to buckle. Fortunately, you were able to find your balance and walk with him, taking one stair at a time.

“Now who’s being dramatic,” you muttered.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Harry slurred, frowning in your direction. He had one arm slung over your shoulder, and the other hand gripping the railing as he hopped on one foot.

“You called me dramatic this morning,” you reminded him, “and now here you are, needing help up the stairs because of a teeny piece of glass….”

“Heeeey,” he protested, stopping in his tracks to look down at you properly.

A scoff escaped you as you rolled your eyes, gesturing for him to continue hopping. You were nearly at the top now.

“Is there a first aid kit somewhere?” You asked, relieved when he removed his arm.

“Yeah,” he scratched at his head, “I packed one, but it’s still in my room.”

Honestly, you were a bit surprised that Harry packed a first aid kit. You’d never stricken him as the responsible type; Callie had always seemed more put together despite being younger.

You followed his hobbling figure into his room, which was much cleaner than you expected. He clearly hadn’t changed it much since he was young, evidenced by the lego figurines lined up on his shelves. There was also a cute framed photo of him and Callie at her high school graduation, which was admittedly adorable.

Getting the splinter out of Harry’s foot hadn’t been a problem, but cleaning it was another story. First, he insisted that he could do it himself, but then he accidentally got neosporin all over his bedsheets. Then, he wouldn’t stop flinching away from you when you tried to stick on the bandage, claiming that he was ticklish.

“Can you please just cooperate,” you sighed.

“Can’t help that it tickles,” he giggled, twitching away from your hand again, “your hands are too soft.”

If he pulled away from you one more time, you’d rip your hair out. This was not how you foresaw ending your night.

Eventually, finally, he stayed still long enough for you to finish. You glared at him as you gathered up the bandage wrapper and used alcohol wipe. He was gazing at you with wide eyes, bandana slightly crooked on top of his head.

“Did I interrupt something downstairs?” He asked all of a sudden, sheepishly looking out the window.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shaking your head in frustration. “You know, Harry? I don’t understand what I did for you to hate me so much.”

He squinted his eyes in confusion, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. As if he hadn’t spent countless hours intentionally getting on your nerves.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you laughed sarcastically, “It hasn’t even been two full days here, and you’ve already called me a wet blanket, eaten my food, and ruined the end of my date. You do nothing but antagonize me… why?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, and it was then that you remembered how truly drunk he was. He probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. You don’t know why you’d asked him about it in the first place.

“I mean, I…” He stuttered, apparently unable to articulate his thoughts.

Truthfully, you didn’t even want to know.

“Maybe we should just stay away from each other,” you told him, “I’m not a huge fan of you, and you clearly have a problem with me….”

He looked completely taken aback.

“Just… go to sleep, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I left the painkillers out, so… take those in the morning if you want.”

You were waiting for him to say something, but he just sat there, silently gaping at you with cloudy eyes, so that’s how you left him. He was still staring at you when you fleetingly made eye contact on your way out the door, but didn’t say a single word.

From what you knew about him, that was out of character. He always had something to say, another jab, another comeback, absolutely never letting you have the last word. And his eyes… the way he’d been staring at you, like he was offended and guilty and confused. You’d never seen him look like that before.

As you got ready for bed, you tried to shake the entire interaction off. He was drunk, he probably had no idea what you were saying. The entire conversation wouldn’t even matter in the morning.

Yet, for some reason, the image of his wide eyes and crooked bandana were all you thought about until you drifted off to sleep.

~~~

If you made it this far, thank you! What do we think? Any thoughts, theories, questions, comments? Let me know! Until next time, xoxoxoxoxox Tile

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry #styles #hs #enemies to lovers #love triangle #m&bc #miles &black coffee #m&bc2

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babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Text

A King on a Leash ch7

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn’t keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter’s life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Sequel to A Doll on a String

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

Warnings: mafia au, codependency, choking, unsafe sex, extreme breath play, referenced murder violence and torture

The sun came in through the thin curtains, waking Tony from his sleep. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Peter. He was still asleep, laying on his back, softly snoring, mouth open, always the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He checked the clock. They had two hours still before they needed to be up. At least today, they could take the drive into town together. Tony could pick Peter up from the performance hall. Maybe they needed some distance between them, but with Harry Osborn stepping up to bat, Tony wasn't comfortable with the idea of distance. Peter certainly didn't mind when Tony got clingy. It seemed to make him happy, in fact.

He laid there and watched Peter sleep until his body ached to get up and move. Then he carefully pulled himself from the bed, trying not to jostle his husband. He went to the closet and pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt. Then he heard Peter stirring on the bed.

"Tony?" he mumbled.

Tony went to the bed and caught Peter's searching hand. "Right here, angel."

He smiled. "Good morning, daddy. Did you sleep well?"

Tony smiled, too. Peter was a sight with his eyes barely open and his hair frizzy from the pillows. "Of course. How are you, darling?"

"Still missing you."

Tony chuckled. "I'm right here. Don't miss me."

Peter sat up and slipped down from the bed. He wrapped his arms around him. "Come shower with me."

"Sounds great."

He followed Peter into the bathroom and stood checking his reflection while Peter warmed up the water. He shot Tony a coy smile before slipping behind the frosted glass door. Tony shucked off what little clothes he wore and followed him into the shower.

Peter didn't offer any pretense of wanting to bathe. He turned and press his bare chest against Tony's. His hands held the back of his neck and pulled him down. Tony wrapped his arms around him, soaking up Peter's kisses.

"Missed you so much," Peter breathed between kisses.

Tony smiled. "I was only gone for a day."

Peter shook his head. "That's too long."

"What about when you left me for a week?"

"It wasn't a whole week... and I still missed you. Speaking of... can we talk about that now?"

Tony stared at his face. The situation with Suarez's people would be handled soon enough. If they had just waited a few more days for Happy and Natasha to finish gathering intel, Nat could have warned him before they broke into his home.

"Let's wash up and then we'll talk. I promise."

"Okay." Peter kissed his cheek. Then he turned and stepped under the water. Tony helped him wash which led to more kissing, but they were both too busy thinking to be distracted by sex.

They dried and dressed then went to the kitchen. Tony didn't feel much like eating, but that didn't stop Peter from making him a waffle away. Once they were both sitting, food steaming in front of them, Tony finally started talking.

"Rhodey got word that Suarez has people after you. I didn't want to worry you. I'm handling it." He waved his hand to express that this was all very much not worth worrying over.

Peter nodded, poker face on. If Tony didn't know any better he would think he was truly unfazed. "What do we know?"

"Suarez has a cousin or something, he's pissed, and he knows that you're connected to me somehow. Or at least, that's what we knew yesterday. Obviously, they figured out who you are and where we live." He reached across the table and took Peter's hand. He didn't look very hungry anymore.

"I have everyone looking into it: Happy, Rhodey, Natasha. We're gonna find an in and then we're going to make this cousin disappear along with anyone else who's got a problem with you."

Peter nodded. "I know we will. But not if you keep secrets from me."

"I never want you to be afraid."

"It's you I'm worried about," Peter said.

"It's not me than they came for."

Peter squeezed his hand. "If something happens-"

"Peter don't-" Tony shook his head, but Peter wasn't to be stopped.

"I want you to know that it's not your fault. You're doing everything you can and it was my choice to handle it the way I did. You said it yourself, I never needed to kill Suarez or any of his men. I wanted to. So I only have myself to blame." Peter gave him a shrug and a smile like it was no big deal.

Tony picked up Peter's hand and pressed it to his lips. "I'm going to take care of it."

Peter pressed his hand to cheek. "I know you'll protect me. You'll make them all regret fucking with the Starks."

Tony smiled. "That's right, angel. We're the kings of this city."

"You're the king of the world."

The love in his eyes was blinding, reassuring. Tony got lost in it, forgetting his usual insecurity. If Peter wouldn't protest being late he would make love to him here on the counter top. Slow and deep until they felt merged into one. For a moment, Tony believed that Peter's love and admiration were unbreakable.

"I love you."

Peter smiled. He would swear his eyes twinkled. "Love you, Tony."

Tony watched, moony-eyed, while Peter finished his breakfast. He fed Tony bites off of his plate. Tony didn't eat anything that Peter didn't feed him. He didn't honestly care what that said about him. They went back upstairs to finish getting ready. The bedroom was starting to smell from the gore splattered around the room. Or maybe, he just hadn't noticed it until the smell of waffles cleaned out his nose. He'd have to call his cleaner to handle it while they were gone. Some of the boys would sit and monitor the process. It wasn’t safe to trust a single soul. Not even the hunch backed Korean man who liked Tony's money more than morals.

They got into the car and Peter snuggled into his side. They usually did their own thing after leaving the house, but he seemed needy. Maybe he was afraid. It made Tony want to grind his teeth. The only thing Peter should ever be afraid of was him. Not that he was anymore, he knew Tony was wrapped around his finger. Sometimes he missed scaring him. Maybe he'd do something just for fun.

He wrapped his arm around him and kissed his forehead when he looked up. He let that hand come up to wrap around Peter's neck. He watched his pupils widen in response. He squeezed. Angel that he was, his legs spread. Probably didn't even realize what he was doing.

Peter was in leggings today. Tony could see that bulge in the fabric beginning to grow. Perfect. So perfect. He squeezed until he couldn't breathe.

"Daddy-" Peter gasped. Tony smirked. He looked afraid. It felt good.

Tony carefully pushed him down onto his back, hand still on his throat. Peter let himself be guided even as he struggled to take in air. They had surpassed a point of danger where Tony usually stopped. He never fully stopped Peter's breathing, but he had such a craving for fear and violence. And Peter was so beautiful when he was scared or in pain. He wasn't even trying to push Tony away.

He touched Peter's cock through his leggings. "I'm not going to let go until you cum."

"Please-" he rasped.

"Don't waste your breath, sweetheart. You need all the air you can get." Tony kissed his open mouth. His hand rubbed hard and fast against Peter's cock. He pushed his hips up against it. He wasn't sure Peter would be able to cum before his lips turned blue and some horrible little part of him wanted to stick to his word regardless. He can't leave me if he's dead.

No, worse. He can't love me if he's dead.

Peter choked, his eyes rolled back in his head, his body shuddered. Tony felt wet under his hand and he kept rubbing, but he let go of Peter's neck. He sucked in a rush of air, gasping and moaning, little tears caught in his eye lashes.

"Daddy- daddy, so good," he moaned. "Thank you, daddy." He sounded near delirious.

"Good boy."

Peter moaned, his grip was weak on Tony's shirt. "That's my angel."

Peter smiled. He blinked away tears. "My daddy." He sat up and gave Tony a kiss. Then he frowned. "Ugh." He looked down at his lap. "Seriously, my leggings?"

"Tell everyone you spilled coffee on your lap." Tony grinned, all teeth. "Or, tell them your daddy made you cum in your pants like a little whore."

Peter sat with his legs squeezed together and his arms crossed until the car parked in the front of the performance hall. Then he sat and scowled at him.

"Aw, what's wrong, sweetheart?" Tony cooed. He adored the look on his face. "We both know you have a change of clothes inside."

"You're so mean."

Tony caught his chin. He gave Peter a quick kiss on his pouting lips. "Have fun, angel."

Peter wrinkled his nose. "You have fun," he grumbled, climbing out of the car.

Tony sighed and relaxed back into his seat, straightening his tie. That felt good. But of course, the feeling wasn't meant to last. His phone began to buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the number

Natasha.

He answered the call, but didn't bother to speak. The fewer words spoken the better. At least, that was what Natasha believed.

"I've got a lead," she said. Then she hung up.

Tony tapped the seat in front of him to get the driver's attention. He had been pointedly not looking in the backseat for a while now. "Back to base," he said.

"You got it, boss."

Tony's hands were fisted on top of his thighs. He stared ahead at passing buildings and saw none. He hoped what Natasha had was enough for them to end this mess. It wouldn't do for Peter to be afraid, to feel powerless, to feel that Tony were powerless.

"If something happens," he had said. Did he already believe that Tony was weak? That he couldn't protect him?

The car pulled straight in to the open bay of the warehouse, an extra precaution since Peter's life was threatened. He waited for the bay door to close before stepping out of the car.

"Where's Romanof?" he asked an associate, Jefferson. He runs heroine for Bucky, but is also afraid of Bucky, which meant that Bucky was not in the warehouse. Hopefully Nat had sicced him on a lead.

"In the back, sir," he gestured down the hall.

The back rooms were both extra storage and a place to hide kidnapping victims. If she didn't have someone with her, she would have waited in his office. He felt hopeful. This had to be good.

He walked a pace too quickly down the hall, guards following him like shadows. Another associate waited outside of a room to direct Tony in. He took in only one guard, just in case. He didn't need him.

Natasha had a guy tied to a chair, way too tightly by the purple of his fingers. He was already shaking, but not yet crying. They still had work to do.

"What's this, Nat?" Tony asked as if he didn't know.

"This fella says he doesn't know anything about Los Tiburones, but I just don't believe him, Boss."

Tony looked at the man. Latino, late twenties, shaved head, dirty, stained clothes. One arm of his red flannel shirt was cut open revealing a tattoo of a shark bite.

"You don't run with the Tiburones?" Tony leaned against the wall, a hand against his chin.

"N-no, sir. She- she- the woman, she grabbed me! I just deliver sandwiches!"

Tony ignored the blatant lie. "Your English is good. You raised in the states?"

"Yes, sir. By my mother in Texas." He was somewhat soothed by the conversation.

"Must have broke her heart when you joined up with a Cuban gang. One would think she was trying to protect you from that."

"She's dead, sir."

"Is she?"

"Yes, sir, she was murdered."

"By the Tiburones?"

"No, sir, by-" he stopped.

"By a rival gang?" Tony quirked an eyebrow. He didn't say anything. "Let me guess. You joined the Tiburones to get revenge?" No. "You owed the Tiburones for avenging her for you?" No. "She was killed because you joined the Tiburones." Yes. There was a little flash of panic in his eyes. Better than a lie detector.

Tony stepped away from the wall. He leaned down into the man's face. "You know who I am?" He nodded. "Then you know why you're here?" He nodded, hands trembling. "Don't play any more games with me."

He didn't offer a consequence. It didn't matter whether he cooperated or not. They would get what they needed out of him.

#starker #marvel #mafia au #murder #violence #codependency #choking #a king on a leash

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

truth or dare

request: from anon: hi love!! can i request fred one shot with #28 & #29? thank you in advance!!!

prompt(s): "professor, i swear, it was me.. just—don't hurt him." | "oh my god, you're in love with the bloke."

word count: 2k

A/N: changed up the prompts just a little to fit the story—i hope that’s okay, love! and i’m bringing juvenile muggle games into this because it‘s silly and definitely sounds like something fred would love to do. also, writer’s block is hitting hard, been trying to work on requests for days and this was honestly really bloody difficult to write.. yikes! sorry if it’s rubbish

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @perksofbeingawf @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx | message me if you’d like to be added!

“Truth or dare?”

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement—now that Umbridge had taken over almost completely, there was barely any area of the castle that was not overturned or watched. At least you still had your sanctuary. She couldn’t bother you in there, could she?

For all she knew, each Gryffindor was sound asleep.

“Isn’t that a bit.. juvenile?” Hermione asked as she flipped through a book, not looking up from its pages.

Ron just rolled his eyes, turning back towards the group and continued on, completely ignoring Hermione’s statement. You could hear her huff loudly on the other end of the common room. “So—who’s up first?”

Katie Bell nervously said, “Can’t we just play truth or truth instead?” You playfully slapped her on the arm and continued to laugh.

Seamus snorted and replied, “That’s hardly a game at all!”

“Blimey,” Dean said, plopping himself down on the floor next to Seamus, “I’ll go first.”

As the sky grew darker and the fire grew warmer, it was becoming easier and easier for Gryffindors to spill their most well-kept secrets. Was it the Butterbeer? The impending doom of Umbridge completely destroying what was left of your school? Voldemort’s return that people were still not entirely believing? You weren’t sure—all you knew is that for the first time since returning to Hogwarts this year, Harry actually looked happy, for once. You reckoned the distraction was a good one.

You turned towards Fred, who had been strangely quiet during the game—merely observing, grinning cheekily, waiting patiently to take his turn. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” you told him, “got something up your sleeve, have you?”

“Aw, Y/N—what perfect timing you’ve got.” He playfully nudged your arm and stood up. “Pipe down,” he told everyone, their laughs continuing to bounce off of the walls in the common room. He glanced right at you and raised his eyebrows up and down. Shit. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. Sure, Fred and George were your best friends, but it didn’t stop them from teasing and pranking you mercilessly. If anything, it just gave them more of an excuse too. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you blurted out a little too quickly, because whatever Fred Weasley had planned, you knew deep down in your heart you did not want to do it.

“Finally going to admit to everyone you’re in love with me, then?” He winked.

You were sure your face was red now. Maybe you could blame it on the copious amount of Butterbeer you’d consumed? Blimey, it was warm—you wished the fire would die down. Everyone seemed to be snickering but not necessarily taking Fred that seriously. Doing your best to not wear your heart on your sleeve, you rolled your eyes at him and replied, “I’m not in love with you, you prat.” So that counted as your turn, yes?

But Fred just peered at you and cocked his head to the side, as if to say, Really, Y/N? You’re a bloody awful liar, which was true. You were. A bad liar, yes, but also—head over heels for him. Always had been. You thought you’d kept your feelings rather hidden, but nothing could slip past Fred Weasley, you supposed. Next to you, George kept glancing at you and was doing his best to stifle a laugh. Bloody hell—couldn’t get anything past him either? You shoved George, took a breath and asked mockingly, “Anything else? Or does that count?”

“Nah—but I haven’t any more truths,” Fred told you, shrugging his shoulders.

“Got to do a dare now,” Harry said, and you shot him a look of, who’s side are you on, Potter?

“Reckon Harry’s right,” George said, and when you narrowed your eyes at him, he put his hands up in surrender, “just playing by the rules!”

You groaned and stood up. “If doing this stupid dare is going to move this game forward, then this dare I shall do.” You turned towards Fred, whose arms were folded and he was looking rather impressed indeed. “Let’s have it, then.”

“Sneak into Umbridge’s office with me,” he began, and you already didn’t like where this was going, “want to give her a little gift, courtesy of George and I—some toffee she can have with her evening tea,”

“What will it do?” Ron asked admiringly. Hermione rolled her eyes yet again.

George laughed, “Hopefully her tongue will swell so much she won’t be able to bloody talk for awhile. Can’t stand listening to that woman speak.”

The common room erupted with laughter while Fred awaited your response. “You’re both idiots. Well—you coming, or not?” You asked him as you walked towards the portrait hole. “I’d like to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

“You’re actually going to do it?” Neville asked you, his eyes growing with worry.

“If it gets Weasley here off my back—yes,” you replied, and then a bit softer, “no worries, Neville. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

The two of you climbed through the portrait hole and out into the corridors, being as quiet as you possibly could be. “Enlighten me, Fred,” you whispered, walking stealthily throughout the corridors, keeping close to one another, “how in the hell d’you expect to get into Umbridge’s office and lure her away from there?”

“I happen to know for a fact that Umbridge spends these evenings in Dumbledore’s office, going over rules and guidelines straight from the Ministry,” he shook his head in dismay, “so we’re in the clear. Besides, nothing like a bit of an adrenaline race, eh?” You were closer to him than you ever had been before, and he was right—your adrenaline was racing, but not due to the dare.

It was seemingly easy to break in, actually. A simple Alohomora unlocked her office door—kind of pathetic, really, quite an easy bit of magic—and you walked into the irritating sounds of meows coming from every which direction. “Blimey—how many bloody cats does this woman have?”

“Just hurry up, Freddie,” you growled through gritted teeth, watching the door like a hawk, as Fred took his time placing the toffees down gently, neatly mixed in with the cookies already next to her tea cup she’d surely gotten from the kitchens. “I’d like to get back to the common room in one piece.”

“Oi, relax, woman,” he replied, making sure nothing looked out of the ordinary, “I’ll get you back before your bedtime.” You nearly shoved him into her desk as he stifled a laugh, and he then gently guided you towards the door.

You were out of the office, thank Merlin, and nearly halfway down the second corridor back towards the Gryffindor common room when Fred said, “Look at you! Being all adventurous—didn’t hurt now, did it?”

“I hate you,” you replied with a grin, before you felt a hand grab at the back of your shirt and pin you both against the wall.

A sickeningly sweet giggle reverberated off of the walls and you shot Fred a glance, as if to say, If we survive this, I’m going to murder you. “Bit late in the evening for a stroll, yes?”

“Couldn’t sleep, Professor,” Fred replied and cleared his throat.

“Ah, so it was your idea to sneak out of your common room so late at night, was it, Mr. Weasley?” Umbridge seethed, “Planning another one of your pranks, perhaps, yes? Where is he—your twin—I reckon he’s out here too?” Umbridge looked so short compared to Fred, but she wasn’t afraid to place her wand right up to his face. “Clearly, the discipline at Hogwarts is not working the way it should. We need something that will—sink in, yes? Perhaps—yes, maybe a bit of torture would do?”

What? She was out of her bloody mind! For sneaking out of a common room? That was hardly a reason to torture a student—mind you, it was illegal! What kind of brainwashed maniacs worked at the Ministry, anyway? Fred sucked in a breath and raised his eyebrows at you, as if to say, Run while you can, but instead you found yourself drowning in fear and tugging on the ends of Umbridge’s robes—

“Professor, I swear, it was me.. just—don't hurt him.”

What had gotten into you? You might as well have just blurted out that you’re in love with him, at this point.

“What?” Umbridge and Fred asked at the same time, surprise noticeable in their voices. Then Dolores continued, “Taking the fall for your boyfriend, are you? Noble, yes—but, you silly girl, now you’ll pay—”

Just then, Peeves swept himself throughout the corridor, laughing maniacally and tossing many things at Umbridge’s head. Screaming and letting go of Fred’s shirt, she began to run throughout the corridor as Peeves chased her down towards the Great Hall—surely, her yells waking everyone in the castle. Without thinking on how Peeves just saved you both, you tugged on Fred’s arm and said, “Let’s go!”

You both stopped short right before the portrait hole, gasping for air and breathing heavily. “What a night,” Fred teased, noting the annoyance in your eyes.

“I could seriously kill you,” you replied, swatting him with your sleeve, “you’re lucky she didn’t beat us! That crazy old bat.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed, running a hand through his hair and smirking excitedly, “but c’mon, don’t lie to me—I know you enjoyed yourself. Want to do it again?”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing you do with George?”

“Maybe I just wanted some alone time with you—you know, since you’re mad for me, and all. No denying it now—you took the fall for me,” he mocked Umbridge, and continued to tease you mercilessly.

Well, guess you couldn’t get out of it now? You smirked at him and shook your head.

“Maybe he was helping me out a bit?”

What? “You’re mad,”

Fred reached out and placed a piece of hair behind your ear. It was a small, intimate moment, but one shared just between the two of you—and it wasn’t something you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon—you knew that for sure. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. “Maybe I am,” he said, and grinned from ear to ear. What the bloody hell was he doing?

You heard voices around the bend and jumped—desperately scrambling to get back into your common room. When you both climbed back through the portrait hole, your heart beating rather rapidly, you were tugged to one end of the common room with the girls where they began giggling animatedly.

“I can’t believe you did it! Tell us everything!” Parvati squealed.

A few minutes later, you heard the boys erupt in laughter and yells on the other end of the common room, while the girls listened with baited breath for you to finish your story about your untimely encounter with Umbridge. Then, Hermione peered at you questioningly.

“Why on earth did you take the fall for him?” she asked you, squeezing your arm. “You’re lucky Umbridge didn’t throw you in detention—or worse—actually use that Unforgivable Curse on you!”

Katie replied, “What—you in love with the bloke, or something?” She, Ginny, Parvati, Angelina, and Hermione all fell into fits of giggles, when you peered across the common room at Fred, who turned away from the boys to meet your eyes, and winked at you.

You wished everyone else would leave for their dormitories, leaving you and Fred alone. You wished you had more time to sneak around the corridors late at night. But everyone was awake and alert, doing stupid things throughout the common area and revealing silly secrets, even though it was now nearing two a.m.—and besides, it was your turn now, anyway. You couldn’t wait to get Fred back for his ridiculous stunt.

“So,” you started, sitting yourself down next to Fred, and waiting to continue as everyone took their places. Fred’s firey eyes met yours, and you wanted nothing more than to pull him close to you and press your lips to his. But after the night you had, you knew you’d have a lot of time for that—was sneaking out of the common room going to become a new thing for you both? He placed his hand around your waist and squeezed your hip. Yes seemed to be the answer.

You narrowed your eyes, shooting him a smirk that would certainly send him into overdrive, “truth or dare, Freddie?”

reblogs + feedback are always apprecated, darlings :)

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danicarosaline · 4 years

Text

Just My Type | JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader | Ch. 3

Authors Note: This series will not be following the show!! Only a few things will be slightly different so bare with me please! 🥰✨

“What time did you come home last night?” Jolting up to the sound of your mother’s voice from where you laid comfortably in bed. Rubbing your tired eyes with your hands and yawning in the process.

“Uh.. dunno?” You replied groggily. You didn’t drink much so you weren’t exactly hungover, just completely exhausted. You blinked a few times trying to adjust to the new lighting of the room that you swore was once very dark just mere hours ago. Tiny specks of dust seemed to dance around in the shaft of afternoon sunlight that slanted through the windows of your room. Making you groan for forgetting to close the damn curtains.

You squint at your mother, eyes still not fully adjusting to the bright room and see her standing by your door with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised at your response. She sighs with a roll of her eyes, something she seems to be doing alot with you which you actually find quite funny.

“Well get dressed we’re going out to lunch” blowing you a little kiss as she walks out and leaving your door slightly open. Does anybody not know how to shut doors nowadays? Are you kidding me? With the click of your tongue, you bounce up from bed and walk lazily towards your door to shut it. Mumbling things under your breath with annoyance.

“The name’s JJ Maybank princess, its a pleasure to make your acquaintance” Oh how corny of him.

Suddenly looking back at all the moments you spent with the blond last night who you now have come to known as JJ Maybank, you feel all lively inside. You can’t help but melt as his perfect face had already imprinted itself into your brain. You can’t even sit still as thoughts of him constantly replay, taunting you of his beautiful existence every second and minute. Not that you come to mind though.

Smiling at yourself in the vanity mirror, you praise yourself for not making a fool out of yourself infront of the pogues and JJ at the kegger last night. You miss the group, already feeling so close with all of them. After applying finishing touches to your eyes with some expensive mascara, you start to make your way towards the door. Grabbing your Gucci purse on the way and smoothing out your yellow midi dress that was suited for casual days like these.

Halfway through lunch your mother bugs you about your love life. Mentioning some kook boys you’ve gotten to know these past months from parties and gatherings. This boy is handsome and funny, this boy is smart and a gentleman, this boy is tall and you both would look adorable together because of the height difference.

Rolling your eyes at the list of names that passed her lips. Kelce, Zac, Harry, Shawn, Jordan et cetera. All the young males living on the Figure 8. What made you roll your eyes is the lack of flavour, though you are no longer suprised at this.

You’re not sure why your mother insists on you dating a kook. Its not like she cares about statuses or how loaded someone is, your mother isn’t that kind of person to judge someone based on their wealth because she grew up without any of these fancy things at first. She used to live on the Cut.

So you begin to wonder. Why is your mother trying to set you up with all these boys who lacks personality if it has nothing to do with them being a kook? Is it because she reckons brunet males are superior?

Yeah it is in fact that reason and not because they are kooks. You know your mother could even care less if they were a touron.

“Its not all about their hair colour honey, you know that” she would say to defend herself when you ask but it doesn’t convince you. Its like theres a competition on which was better- “blonds or brunets?” and to her it being the latter.

She tells you that brunet males are just better looking than blonds so you shrug it off. Annoyed at her odd settlement and not bothering to stop her rambling about boys cause its not like she’d stop anyways.

“I just know you and Tom would be so cute together” making you choke on your pasta, she winks whilst taking a sip of her half empty champagne glass. Your step father humming in agreement at the mention of the said boy. You think back to when you first met Tom at a summer event hosted by his parents.

“Seriously mum? I met him once!”

He sure was charming though, handsome and fit with a deep british accent and a smile that could almost make your knees buckle. Almost.

It just doesn’t compare to JJ’s and his cute dimples.

The vibration of your phone buzzing on the table catches your attention. You glance down at it and see a text from your bestfriend, causing a smile to form on your face at the message.

Kiekie🌺: Come to the chateau boobear i made sandwiches and a fruit bowl so we can have a little picnic with the boys🥪🙇🏽‍♀️

Not being able to resist a picnic and food made by Kiara you text back almost immediately. Asking permission from your parents to let you go see Kie with a pout on your face, hoping it’ll be enough to convince them to let you go. The pout works everytime.

“Alright but come back before dinner and i mean it Y/N” your mother points at you sternly. You nod and give each of them a kiss on the cheek and head out. Opening the Uber app to get you to John B’s.

You: omw babygorl 👁👄👁

Kiekie🌺: srsly stop calling me that ):<

—————————————————————

Upon arriving at the Chateau you notice Pope and Kie first, hanging out by the hammock with a picnic blanket under them with plates, food and beers all set up nicely. No doubting that it was all Kie’s idea to organized it that neatly.

At first glance you would think that Pope and Kie were dating with how they look sitting together right now. Kie laughing at something Pope said and smacking his arm whilst Pope was peering at her with a soft look in his handsome features, almost like he was admiring the grinning girl. You know for a fact that if Kie was straight you’d be shipping the two friends together.

“Y/N hey!” Pope noticing you first and waving at you. Kiara getting up from her spot next to Pope to run over and engulf you in a hug. She pulls you down next to her and hands you some pineapple juice.

Pope offers you a sandwich which you decline kindly, telling him you already had lunch with your parents before you came here. Joining in on the previous conversation they had, you can’t help but drift off to where John B and JJ were at so you glance towards the house hoping to find either of them (more so the blond) in hopes you’ll catch one of them lingering around.

Kie nudges your shoulder with hers when she noticed your attention on the house and Pope explains that the two boys just stopped by the store to get more beers.

Then, as if on cue, the beat up van you recognised from last night pulls up and interrupts the conversation you trio had with its loud engine. You place a piece of hair behind your ears, something you do when your nervous about something and that something definitely has to do with the cute blond making his way over whilst carrying a small paper bag in his arm that he gently places down infront of you.

“Thought you’d enjoy these” the blond takes a seat next to you, giving you one of his signature dimpled smiles. The kind that instantly makes you melt. You tilt the paper bag towards you and you see three of your favourite snacks inside and if this sweet gesture doesn’t make you wanna kiss him right here, infront of the pogues than you don’t know what will at this point.

You let out a tiny gasp with a hand on your heart and turn your head towards the gorgeous blond beside you. You thank him shyly, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks as he remembered your favourite snacks from all the times he’s delivered them to your house. He knows both your parents are crazy healthy, refusing to eat anything but salads or whatever protein foods there is.

He just guessed these snacks could only be wanted by you considering the snacks are only bought and ordered by other teens on Figure 8, no adult being interested to the very sweet snack. But the excitement decorating your pretty features makes his heart swell at the thought that he could make you this happy at something so little.

You both miss the way the other three exchange looks at the interaction. Too caught up in each other’s eyes to notice anything else around you. Pope coughs awkwardly, causing you to break eye contact with the blond.

“Uh JJ how do you know those are her favourites?” Kie eyes JJ, brows drawing together in confusion. He shrugs and says that he makes alot of deliveries to your house and just caught up on it. Kie’s eyes than lands on you and you just give her a nod, telling her that it was true.

She shrugs also and turns back to Pope to continue their previous conversation and thats when you caught John B staring at you with a smirk on his face, all he does is give you wink before joining in on the conversation with Kie and Pope.

You all spend the afternoon just eating, drinking and having a nice pleasant chat. But I’m not sure if you even considered this just chatting pleasantly. The group was loud and constantly talked over each other, interrupting each other mid sentence to change the subject. You found this amusing and appreciated that they never tried to do that when you joined in the conversation too.

The subtle touches from JJ here and there sends shivers down your spine as you try your best to not shy away from him when he caresses your thigh for a second when talking to you, or when he so gently cupped your face with his calloused hands when he tried to remove a ladybug that landed on your forehead. He’d smile cheekily at you when he catches you staring up at him innocently. Your heart could only handle so much of his attention being on you.

These touches don’t go unnoticed by the others, though they do not say anything about it. Only giving each other a look and snickering whenever they catch JJ placing one of his hands on you again. They find it adorable honestly.

“So Y/N whose escorting you to Midsummers?” You look up at Kie with raised brows, who in turn, is wiggling her own brows at you in a teasing manner.

“I unm.. i-“ you stutter out, not knowing what to say which makes her snort.

“Well what about you huh? Kie?” You shove her shoulders gently with a pout on your face feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

“Hey! I was only asking silly girl, no need to be so shy” she pinches your left cheek, making you whine and the others laugh at you two. You feel JJ’s fingers gently caress your thigh again and you swore you felt butterflies in your stomach. You turn your head to look at him to see him already staring at you, admiring you.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the close proximity. When did he get so close? You swore you both weren’t sitting with your legs touching each other’s just mere minutes ago. You were about to start a conversation with JJ before Kie grabbed your hand, forcing your attention on her.

“Maybe ask Tom? I know he has a crush on you!”

You feel JJ’s fingers halt in his actions on your thigh and then slowly slip away. Your brows furrow at the loss of contact but still kept your eyes glued on Kie.

“Wait- Tom as in kook Tom or pogue mechanic Tom?”

John B quips, full of grapes in his mouth.

“Ew JB can you like, not talk with your mouth full?”

“Sorreh-“

“Yeah anyways, kook Tom!” Her hands still clasps around yours, beaming at you excitedly. She’s met Tom at the same party and she’s been shipping you both ever since the little chat you three had about using metal straws instead of plastic to save the turtles. Tom would have definitely been her type if she was straight, her words exactly.

“Ive talked to him a few times when i was out with dad making deliveries at his place and he’s actually really nice, i reckon go for it Y/n!”

Pope pipes up from where he was bending over in the ice cooler to grab a fruity drink for himself and throws you one too.

“Thanks Pope and also, i d-“

“JJ could escort you!!” you were suddenly cut off by John B’s loud voice, arms raised in the air as if he just came up with the most smartest plan ever.

You missed the way JJ’s head snaps towards his bestfriend with wide eyes. Cheeks starting to redden with every passing second. You crumble into a little ball when the blond takes his time to retort back.

You were about to tell JJ that he didn’t need to do that for you when a nervous chuckle leaves his lips and his hand placing itself back on your thigh stops you.

“That wouldn’t be a bad of an idea princess”

“You sure? You honestly don’t have to if you don’t wa-“

“And miss you being all pretty and dolled up? yeah don’t think so babe” he scoffs jokingly and sends a wink your way. You bite your bottom lip to supress a squeal, and thank him instead.

Kie then asks John B if he could escort her to Midsummers and Pope feigns hurt and she slaps him on his thigh, claiming that he’s gonna be there too, escorting some kook girl who practically forced him to be her partner.

As the others tease Pope, you turn to JJ and start planning on how you both can match each other for Midsummers, playing with each other’s hands as you both converse.

John B’s eyes falls on the girl and JJ’s almost interwining hands. He glances back up to look at his bestfriend and smiles at the sight of JJ looking so soft. Not once has John B seen JJ act this way towards a girl. A kook no less.

It was why he suggest JJ to escort you to Midsummers. The brunet knew JJ had a soft spot for you especially, having the blond mentioning a really pretty H/C kook girl that caught his eye months ago but never pursuing her because duh, your a kook and JJ hates kooks but with Kiara being the exception.

Who would have thought that kook girl would be the same Y/N Kie always talks about. What a small world John B thought.

Taglist: @alotbnouf @elhopqer @arthiriticcricket @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid @urlocalbrochure @cocoopalace @teamnick @lolitstiana @99sxuxii @styles-edward-harry @essencityv @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @i-ran-out-of-fanfics

If you see your @ crossed out, simply comment and I’ll fix it!! 💛

#fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x you #john b routledge #pope hayward #kiara carrera #outer banks #sarah cameron #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy obx

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 6 years

Text

Saving the Pieces

Can be read on Ao3

“Excuse me, mister, but are you Harry Potter?”

Harry wanted to groan, he wanted to apparate away, he wanted to scream, but what he wanted the most was to disappear and be somebody else.

But he wasn’t.

So instead, he turned around and smiled down at the child who spoke; she couldn’t have been more than ten. Her smile was radiant, and her hands were waving around excitedly as he nodded in affirmation.

“My mum says you saved the world.”

Harry couldn’t be upset at the adoration in her eyes, nor the hesitant way she reached out for his hand with her own small fingers.

“Your mum thinks too highly of me.”

She shook her head so fast that the bobble in her hair slipped and her braid unravelled.

“Nu-uh. You are the hero of the bedtime stories she reads me. My mum says that the healers will save me, just like you saved us.”

Harry knew it would be a bad idea to open his mouth, he could already hear Malfoy’s lecture in the back of his mind, but as he stared down at the child, he felt his heart lurch.

“Healers? Are you sick?”

“My magic needs mending. The healers said I perform like a squib because there’s a block. They just need a donation. I’m on a list, at least that’s what my mum says.”

Harry winced. He knew that most people on a magical donation didn’t survive long enough to get the magic needed. It didn’t use to be a problem, at least not until after the war. No one wanted to give up magic, even if it would save a neighbour.

He knelt down, so he could peer into her face. “How about you bring me to your mum, and we’ll see about getting you that donation?”

----------

The door slammed open with a bang as it hit the wall and Harry had to fight the urge to flee. No other Healer would be so rude, unless it was Malfoy.

“Want to tell me why I have a transplant scheduled for tomorrow with you down as a donor?”

Harry couldn’t look up, not if Malfoy’s expression matched the anger in his tone.

“It’s just a sliver of magic. That’s all I’m donating.”

“You don’t have any spare magic to give, Potter.”

Harry clenched his fists as he glared up at Malfoy.

“I know that, I can’t ever forget,” He spat out, the anger causing his tone to come out far harsher than intended.

Malfoy’s face morphed into several emotions, and Harry hated each one of them. It wasn’t fair. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to feel anything when it came to Harry’s situation. It made it more real.

“Every month you come in here and I have to tell you the same speech, the same warnings and the same bad news.”

“Malfoy—”

“No, Potter.” Malfoy closed the door with a snap before he slumped against the door. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to do this.”

“It’s not your choice.”

Malfoy clenched his teeth, and Harry knew it would be wise to give in, but he couldn’t—not when he thought of the little girl.

“Potter, your magic is dying out, you know this. Every time you say a spell, mutter an incantation, use your wand, or wave your hand with the intent to call upon your magic, it slowly disappears.”

“I know—”

“Do you?” Malfoy asked, sneer in place and anger in his eyes. Honestly, Harry wasn’t sure who allowed Malfoy to be a healer, especially with that kind of bedside manner.

“Because I advised you to only use your magic under dire circumstances. Whatever happened to you that night mucked up your ability to regenerate the magic that resides in your magical core.”

Harry looked down the worn, ugly, and mismatched tiles of the floor. He knew magic was like a muscle, the more you use it, the broader your abilities become—but magic requires rest, as does any muscle. Instead of regenerating magic like his body would regenerate energy, his magic slowly decreased with each new spell used.

When he chose to come back instead of moving on all those years ago in the forest, he didn’t think it would have repercussions. But that was his price to pay, his burden to bear.

“Every time you come in, your magic has decreased at an alarming rate. Your idiotic Gryffindor morals can’t let you see someone suffer without offering aid.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry stressed as his fingers dug into his palms. “Malfoy, you don’t know what it’s like. I have this urge to help people, to be of use, and what I do best is the one thing you tell me I can’t do.”

His eyes stung, whether due to anger or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“I want to make a difference. I want to be somebody besides the bloody saviour of the world.” Harry’s voice caught as he screwed up his eyes and his forehead wrinkled. “But what good am I in wizarding society if I can’t perform magic?”

“Potter.” The delicacy to Malfoy’s voice should have been soothing, it should have calmed his emotions, but it only angered Harry further. He didn’t want to be understood, didn’t want to be pitied.

“I’m useless as I am. The only thing I can offer is my magic, and I’m going to do it until I have none left.”

Malfoy closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped.

“I can’t let you, Potter. It goes against every violation we have. You aren’t magically fit to be giving pieces of yourself away.”

Dread filled Harry, but he refused to take no for an answer.

“But I don’t care. I’m okay with that, okay with giving all that I have.”

Malfoy shook his head before crossing his arms.

“I won’t do it. I won’t cypher away your already limited magic.”

Harry wanted to be bothered by that, more so than the annoyance already inside him, but Malfoy was always like that—always attempting to lengthen his magic, and it was nice having someone to look after him.

“Then I’ll fight the decision to the Director of St. Mungos. You know how this is going to turn out, Malfoy.”

He didn’t like using his status against others, but Harry would if he had to—and he was going to. He didn’t care if he had to take it to the Wizengamot, it was his body, his magic, and he would be damned if someone tried to tell him what to do with it.

Malfoy pursed his lips. “You do that. When I’m ordered to perform the transplant, then we can talk. But until then, it’s my decision.”

Harry could respect that, he wasn’t sure what he would do if the situation were reversed.

When Malfoy walked to the door, Harry began to gather his things.

“I’m just trying to keep you alive, Potter.”

“I know,” Harry whispered softly. “And I appreciate that.”

They both knew he’d get his way in the end but having Malfoy fight so strongly meant a lot to Harry. It meant everything.

----------

“Healer Malfoy says it will be painless!” Estrella exclaimed, eyes bright and a happiness Harry wasn’t used to seeing oozing outward.

They only had a few minutes before the transplant, and Harry was rather pleased to have gotten to know Estrella better. It had been a rocky few weeks for the both of them as Harry had to petition St. Mungos.

He knew Malfoy was upset, and didn’t want to perform the transplant, but Harry knew that Malfoy would end up doing it.

“Has Malfoy said anything else?”

Estrella hummed a tune Harry wasn’t familiar with as her legs kicked back and forth from the hospital bed.

“Just that he admires you.”

Harry’s mouth parted, and he wondered if he could take her words at face value. Just last week she talked about her best friend who was a hybrid dragon and gorilla combination—so he wasn’t quick to believe her.

“Now, I don’t remember quite saying it like that.” The drawling tone had both Harry and Estrella sitting up straighter.

Malfoy was in the doorway, a clipboard in his hands and a few healers in training behind him.

“But you did, Mister Malfoy! Remember? I said that Harry Potter was so cool, and you said—”

“How about we forget what I said, alright?” Malfoy asked, a beautiful flush to his cheeks that had Harry unable to look away.

“I’d like to hear what it was that you said.”

Malfoy’s flush increased past his neck and Harry had to wonder if that was where it stopped.

“Can we hurry up?” A healer behind Malfoy asked. “I’ve got a patient in Creature-Induced Injuries who’s got a bad Chimera bite that needs to be drained in a few hours, and Merlin knows you two will flirt for that long.”

It was Harry’s turn to flush as Malfoy turned to glare at the healer.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “It’s a routine transplant, but I’ve got a few healers on standby due to your low magical levels. Odds are still in your favour, but it’s better to be safe.”

Harry smiled at Estrella when she frowned at Malfoy’s words. He didn’t want her to worry about him.

“Are you ready?”

When they both nodded, Malfoy brought his hands together before gesturing for them to lay down.

“Alright then, let’s begin.”

--------

Clammy. Harry felt sticky, his palms felt wet and he wondered why he was so sweaty. His mind was foggy, and he couldn’t remember where he was. Was he at home?

—“He’s seizing! The limited magic won’t separate from his core.”—

Something prodded at his mind as if urging him to remember, but nothing made sense, nothing stuck out. What was the last thing he had done?

—“He’s not breathing. Murphy, I need an Anapneo right away.”

“But sir, there’s no blockage.”—

Panic seized Harry as his mind blanked. He couldn’t remember anything.

—“Lower his heart rate. Marsh, I need respiration potions, half a vial.”—

Something wet touched his lips and he tried to move his head but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

—“We’ll have to rip the magic out of the core.”

“That could send him into shock.”—

As liquid seared his throat, Harry wanted to scream, he wanted his body to listen to him. What was happening?

—“Immobilize his heart, I can’t get his core to respond accordingly.”—

The more Harry fought, the more things began to hurt. Nothing made sense, not even his own mind.

—“Potter, I need you to stop fighting me, please.”—

Time meant nothing as he tried to grapple with his surroundings. If he concentrated he could make out a buzzing of noises, but nothing made sense and he didn’t know what it was.

—“He’s not going to make it. His magic is creating a shield and with how little there is it’ll take his natural energy.” —

The urge to fight was strong, but he didn’t have the will to keep it going. Why was he so tired? What was causing the lethargy? Harry just wanted to sleep, maybe he should, that seemed like a good idea.

—“Potter’s going to need an emergency supply of magic. If his core doesn’t stabilize then there will be nothing we can do.”

“We’ll need to place him in a stasis, sir, we don’t have a match on hand.”—

His body felt heavy, and Harry decided that giving in would be the smartest move. Conserve his energy for another time. There would be another time.

—“There’s no time, we’re losing him. Turner, I need you to take over, Lynn I need you to prep another bed.”

“What? Sir?”

“I’ll donate the magic myself.”—

The heaviness increased, but it was comforting in a way. It meant giving up responsibility when he was tired, oh so tired. It was nice to not have to keep fighting.

—“Potter don’t you dare give up now. Come on you stubborn bastard.”—

---------

Harry opened his eyes and quickly shut them again as the pain of the light stung his eyes. A noise of disgust left him, and his mouth felt gross as he tried to swallow past the uncomfortable feeling of sleep.

“Oh, you are up.”

He startled slightly at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. He squinted to the left of him as he tried to figure out if the blurry lump was really Malfoy.

It wasn’t until Malfoy chuckled, the noise sounding close to fond as his glasses were placed in his hands was Harry actually able to see.

“You look like shit,” Harry blurted when his eyes focused and he could see Malfoy’s pristine hair ruffled and sticking up in places, purple spots underneath Malfoy’s eyes, and an exhausted expression made him look years older.

Malfoy’s right eye twitched and Harry had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

“Thank you, Potter. Your manners are spot on as usual.”

“Are you alright? What happened to you?”

“Me?” Malfoy asked, voice incredulous. “You almost died, you moron.”

“What?” Harry asked as he tilted his head to the side. “I thought you said it was a routine transplant.”

“Yeah, for those with normal magical reserves. Your magic refused to separate.”

Harry’s hands gripped his chest, as if he could feel the magic, but he just needed to hold onto something.

“But what about Estrella? And her transplant? Does that mean she didn’t get any magic?”

Malfoy clenched his jaw as he looked away.

“I tell you that you almost died, and your first question is about someone else.”

“Malfoy,” Harry sighed, not wanting to get into a fight. “Just please tell me—”

“She’s fine. I was able to separate enough magic to fix her blockage.”

He exhaled a shaky breath of relief. But when Malfoy didn’t relax, he began to worry.

“But?”

“You flatlined, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice cracked, and Harry watched in awe as Malfoy blinked rapidly. “You were dying and there was nothing I could do to help. Your magic was killing you as much as it tried to save you.”

Harry looked down at the bed as he fiddled with his fingers.

“But I’m still here.”

A hollow laugh left Malfoy, and he hated the noise, hated that he missed the normal laugh, the one that usually at his own expense.

“Only because I gave you some of my magic.”

Harry’s head snapped up and his mouth parted at the intense look in Malfoy’s eyes.

“But I thought that—” He paused as he tried to recall the ethics of something like that. There were rules on donors, and he didn’t think that was something allowed.

“I’ve been suspended.”

“What?” Harry asked aghast. “But—but you saved me.”

A small quirk of Malfoy’s lips could be seen before it mellowed out.

“I broke six hospital violations and committed a peccadillo that could be punishable by the Wizengamot.”

Harry frowned heavily. “They aren’t going to charge you with anything, are they?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I doubt it. I did save Harry Potter’s life after all. The papers haven’t vilified me, and the hospital is up by 50% in donations since it was announced.”

“I still don’t understand why saving me got you in so much trouble.”

“Donors are screened, prepped, advised and forced to sign waivers before ever being allowed to offer magic. Tests are run to ensure the recipient is compatible, and the other person must be aware.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as the realization of it all came crashing down.

“I injected you with my own magic on the hope that it would be enough. You were dying, Potter. If I had followed hospital rules, your friends would be burying you in the ground right now. I did what I thought was right, and that, unfortunately, meant breaking guidelines.”

“Why?” Harry whispered, eyes a little wet. “Why did you risk so much for me?”

“You aren’t the only one who can’t help but save others.” It was said with an accompanying sad smile, and Harry’s heart lurched at the sight.

“Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me. All I could hear was your damn mentality of giving pieces of yourself away, and I knew that I had to try, I had to do something!”

“Thank you,” Harry said as he closed his eyes and blindly reached for Malfoy’s hand. He wanted to thank him for caring, for being there, for yelling at him when it got rough, for listening when he needed to vent, for being the best healer and friend that Malfoy could have been.

“Thank you for everything.” He hoped that was enough.

When Malfoy entwined their fingers and moved onto the bed with him, Harry knew that Malfoy had understood.

It took many years of always being on the wrong page to synch up, and now, there was an understanding that went both ways.

An understanding that he wouldn’t change for the world.

---------

Bonus Scene

“Hurry up, Harry!” Estrella yelled as she rushed through the halls of St. Mungos.

“We have time, Draco’s shift isn’t over for another few hours.”

Estrella sighed as she slowed down to a brisk walk instead of the near run it had been before.

“Draco was right, you do suck the fun out of things.”

Harry gasped, the sound far more offended than he felt. “I resent that.”

When she laughed brightly, he decided to let that one go and just blame Draco.

As they rounded the corner, Harry waved at the welcome witch, Jeni.

“He’s on break for the next few minutes. I’d catch him now before he starts his rotation in the Artifact Accident wing,”

“Thank you!” Harry called over his shoulder as he decided to make treacle tart later and send it over for the staff. He would make sure to give Jeni the biggest one.

“Estrella!” Harry yelled as she pushed open the staff room without a second care or thought.

When he walked in, he was glad to see it was empty except for Draco who barely had enough time to catch Estrella as she launched forward to hug him.

“What are my two favourite people doing here?” Draco asked as he grinned at Harry before giving him a soft kiss in greeting.

“Show him, Harry,” Estrella demanded as her arms wrapped around Draco’s neck.

“Estrella’s mum sent her over with this.”

Harry pulled out the recognizable letter and watched Draco suck in a sharp breath.

“Dear Estrella,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed—”

Harry cut off when Draco stepped forward, arms still wrapped around Estrella.

Estrella beamed as Harry showed Draco the letter.

“You did it Draco!”

“No, I—” Draco shook his head. “All I did was do the transplant. Your magic got you into Hogwarts, not me.”

“You saved me,” Estrella argued, a small frown on her face. “You saved Harry too. Just accept the compliment.”

Harry grinned at her fiery disposition as Draco laughed, the sound a little wet.

When Draco pulled Harry into a one-armed hug as he held onto Estrella and whispered, “Thank you,” Harry didn’t need any clarification.

He understood, and when it came to them, he always would.

---------

I am a day early, but I want to wish @rmh8402 a very happy birthday. I hope your day will be just as wonderful as you. I love you! Thank you @unicornsandphoenix for being a great beta and looking this over for me.

This ficlet was inspired by the song Anpanman, and the message behind it is something that has stuck with me for a while now.

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Ficlet #XxTheDarkLordxX writes #healer!draco #Harry is a mess #but one that matters #he just wants to save everyone #Draco tries to save him #someone has to be responsible #small angst #some fluff #Estrella makes an appearance #Jeni makes an appearance #Magic transplant #Patient!Harry

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heyyyharry · 6 years

Text

In Another Life Series: Chapter 3 - The Girl In Black

…in which Y/N’s first day at work is a mess, and Harry’s relationship is not any better.

Series description: Y/N and Harry are soulmates and destined to meet in every lifetime, but no matter how many times they reincarnate and find each other again, they never seem to get it right.

AU: reincarnation, soulmate!harry, prince!harry, and assistant!y/n

Sorry for taking too long to update this series, Tumblr fucked me up and deleted half a chapter. It would be the last time I wrote directly on Tumblr I’m sure of it. I hope you guys enjoy this, questions are very welcomed. Paragraph in italic took place in the previous life.

Chapter 2 - The Assistant: Harry’s got a new assistant, and Y/N’s got a new job.

Y/N didn’t expect her first day at work to start with her head down the toilet. It must have been the milk she’d drunk earlier that morning, or maybe the microwaved dinner from last night. But it didn’t matter now, the important thing was that her famous boss, whom she’d never actually met before, was waiting in the recording studio, while she was throwing up in this bathroom stall.

With her head spinning in circle, however, Y/N could still make out a knock on the door.

“Hey, ya alright?”

She should’ve recognized that British voice because she’d spent the entire night before watching his interviews on Youtube to get to know him better. Nonetheless, in a situation like this her memory was helpless.

“I’m fine…Thanks.” Y/N groaned as she flushed the toilet before rising up from the floor, feeling a bit better but still quite unsure.

“Sir, I don’t think you should be in the ladies’ room,” she told the man on the other side of the door.

And to her surprise, he replied with a laugh. “That’s why I’m in the men’s room.”

Y/N’s bloodshot eyes grew wide the moment she heard those words. She pulled the door open in an instant, then almost fell backward when she found Harry Styles standing right in front of her. Harry gave the girl a friendly smile, yet when he opened his mouth to speak, she immediately turned away and got back down on her knees to empty her stomach in the toilet bowl.

In the haze, Y/N could feel Harry kneeling down by her side, gently holding her hair back so it wouldn’t get in the way. It was a lovely gesture, she supposed, but he still had no idea she was his new assistant.

And the only thing on Y/N’s mind at this very moment was, her first day of this job could also be her last.

...

The girl in black carefully followed the path leading through the dark woods, with only the light from her oil lantern guiding the way. She was heading home alone, like a shadow under the moonlight, trying not to make a sound as her heart was pounding like a drum.

The young maiden could’ve got home early that night as she was so close to her village already. However, it was one of her good habits that became her obstacle — she never walked away from someone in need.

“Hello?! Can anyone hear me? I’m trapped!”

Her feet rooted to the ground when she heard the cry for help. The girl already had her guards up, ready to fight for her life, but there was no one around! At first, she thought it was just her imagination, then the desperate call repeated, louder this time. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from a hole on the ground a few steps away from where she stood.

“Who’s there?” she asked, carefully approaching the victim. Holding up her lantern above the hollow to get a better look of whoever was down there. When the light flashed across the person’s face, the girl was so terrified that she backed away from the edge.

“Hello, thank God! Could you please get me out of here?” begged the hopeless young man as he looked up. But this girl knew for certain he wasn’t just a man.

“You’re...You’re the Prince!”

“You recognize me?” Prince Edward smiled widely as he put both hands on his hips and heaved out a sigh of relief. “Great! Now could you please help me out?”

“No.”

Her answer came as a shock to the heir of the throne.

“Pardon?” he raised an eyebrow for no one had ever talked to him that way beside his father - the King.

“I said: No. In fact, I’d let you die down there, so your awful father could learn how it feels to lose someone he loves,” she told him bitterly. “I’m sure you’ve heard of how he burnt down villages because of those rumors about witches. He murdered my entire family. And now you’ve got the audacity to beg for my help?”

“Hey, hey, hey, lady, I don’t know who you are but I swear I knew nothing about those villages. I’m truly sorry about your family, and if you could help me I’d pay you as much as you’d like.”

“I don’t think you could afford it, unless you knew how to resurrect the dead!” The girl turned to walk away, ignoring the young Prince’s pleading from down below. It was getting late and she’d got no time for a conversation with a dying man. However, something occurred to her when she was finally far enough to not hear his voice anymore.

If she left him there to die, she’d be just as bad as his father.

“Your Highness.”

Edward shot his face up and grinned widely when he saw the girl had returned. She rolled her eyes skyward then sighed heavily before laying out her bargain, “if I save your life, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything!” Edward spoke too soon, after that he realized how risky this agreement could turn out to be and quickly added, “wait, if you want to turn me against my father, then I’m sorry I cannot give you my word!”

What he said made the girl laugh, then she assured him, “you don’t have to betray your family or your country, I promise. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” Edward nodded his head in response to the stranger standing on the edge of the hollow, holding his life in the palm of her hand. Now he could only count on his own judgement that she wasn’t going to kill him once he got out of there.

...

“How is she?” Harry asked the doctor once the man walked out of the room but Y/N wasn’t with him.

“She’s going to be fine,” the middle-aged man said with a gentle smile, making Harry feel more at ease. “The girl got food poisoning, not very serious so I’ve already given her some pills. Let her stay here for an hour to see if she feels any better then she can go.”

“Thank you, doctor” replied Harry as he shook the doctor’s hand then watched the man walk away. He intended to go into the room to check on his new assistant immediately, but the moment he grabbed the doorknob, the phone in his pocket buzzed to notify him of a new text. It was from his manager Jeffrey.

Hey are you alright?

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he read the question.

I’m fine, I’m still at the hospital with Y/N. Why?

You haven’t seen the pictures?

What pictures?

Jeff left Harry’s latest message at seen so Harry had to find out on his own. He immediately went on social media (it’s sad how this was his first guess) and the first thing he saw was an article published by an online magazine with all the pictures of his girlfriend making out with another man.

Lillie Xander caught kissing a new man!!! Yikes! How does Harry Styles feel about this?

For that one second, Harry almost stopped breathing. He wished those photos hadn’t been real, that they’d been photoshopped and his girlfriend of two years hadn’t cheated on him. However, reality sucked, and he felt like a fool.

Harry was still staring at his phone when the door flew open all of a sudden and slammed with hard against his left arm! The girl behind it immediately mumbled her apology and she looked more frightened when she recognized who he was.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be lying down?” Harry asked Y/N while rubbing the sore spot on his arm, making his new assistant feel extremely guilty. Not only had she made him drive her all the way to the hospital and thrown up on his expensive jacket, but she also slammed him with the door. She was so in trouble after this.

“Am I fired?” she stared at him with her sad puppy dog eyes, and it took Harry a moment to take it in before he burst into laughter.

“You honestly thought I was going to fire you for being sick on your first day?”

“And for destroying your Gucci jacket and not being able to buy another one for you even if I sold myself.” She rolled her eyes backward and groaned out loud. “What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t get anything right.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Harry caught her by surprise when he grabbed her arms, holding her firmly place so she would look at his face.

Y/N turned to stone the very moment she made eye-contact with her new boss. Suddenly, everything started playing in slow-motion as she fell into the loop of his intense stare. Despite having already seen plenty photos of this man, Y/N was certain that wasn’t the reason why she found those green eyes of his so familiar. She had seen them somewhere else before she just couldn’t remember where exactly. It wasn’t just a feeling that ‘I met you once on the street but I remember you because you’re gorgeous’, it was more like ‘we don’t know each other but I feel like we have for a really long time.’

“Have we met?” Harry was the one to ask that question, and not Y/N, which shocked her even more when she fell out of the maze that was his eyes.

“I would’ve remembered, trust me,” she said, chuckling dryly as her eyes stayed on his.

“Weird...” Harry mumbled to himself, shaking his head then immediately put on a smile. “Well, don’t worry, you’re not fired, and I’m not mad at you for anything that’s happened this morning.”

For some reason she couldn’t explain, Y/N knew that smile wasn’t sincere. There was something bothering this man and he was just so used covering up his emotions that he did it like a pro. He couldn’t fool her though.

However, she didn’t say anything about that, and just smiled back at him. “Thank you so much. I can’t lose another job again.”

“Again?” Harry looked at her, quite amused. “You’ve been fired before.”

“I wasn’t fired, I quit my last job...But I’m sure you’re not interested in my boring life stories.”

“I am interested,” he told her without pause. “Why don’t we go somewhere later and you tell me about that awful job that you quit? If we’re going to be working close to each other, we should get to know each other, right?”

“You sure? Because in the schedule Jeff sent me—”

“That’s my schedule, I can cancel any plan I want. Jeff’s my manager, not my boss.”

“But he’s mine.”

Harry chuckled while shaking his head no. “He’s not, I am. He can’t fire you unless I tell him too.”

“That’s powerful.” The words slipped out before Y/N can stop her lips. “Shit...did I just say that?”

Her face scrunched up in embarrassment when Harry let out a slight laugh. “It’s okay, I like you already. I think we’re gonna be a good team.”

“Hope so.” Y/N looked up as her eyes sparkled with joy. “Shall we go now?”

“No, the doctor told me to keep you here for an hour.”

“I’m fine now, just ignore the doctor.” She snorted then just walked right past Harry to the nearest exit.

He stayed at the same spot, watching her marching down the hall with his mouth agape, then when she noticed he wasn’t following her she stopped and turned around, looking all confused.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry!”

Harry snapped back to reality as he heard the sound of her voice. Then he shrugged off the foreign feeling in the pit of his stomach and ran forward to catch up with his new assistant.

#in another life series #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #boyfriend!harry #bestfriend!harry #prince!harry #soulmate!harry #assistant!y/n

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fics-for-my-heart · 6 years

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Soul Burn (p1)

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, your skin burns in that spot till you touch them again.

Word count: 1556

Warning: swearing, mention of crowd panic

A/N: I saw a post for a different soulmate type story and it put this idea in my head. Part 2?

Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

When you touch your soulmate for the first time, the contact area burns. Not like a fire burn, more like a tingling sunburn. No one knows what caused it, but people definitely noticed when it started happening. An odd story here, and a weird news article there. Eventually it was the norm. When you met a new person, you touched, just to make sure.

At 23, you weren’t sure you’d ever meet the one. Everyone you went to high school with had found their other half. It didn’t bother you much, you knew that when the time came it would happen, so you didn’t go around like some people and touch random strangers hoping to find them.

“Y/N.” Your best friend Julie waved her hand in your face. “Honey bunch are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah sorry. Distracted is all.” You turned back to the inventory list your boss had you filling out.

“Still wondering when you’ll get your burn?” She had met Mitch, her soulmate, on the first day of ninth grade while passing papers back.

“I mean, yes and no.” You shrugged, checking off a few boxes on the list. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever meet the one. But at the same time I’m kinda content with how life is, and just kinda going with it.”

She rested her hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find them. Just gotta have a little hope. But! On a brighter note, convention weekend starts tomorrow and we are for sure going to have a blast.”

“You’re right, I always look forward to convention weekend.” With that thought in your mind you were able to make it the rest of the work day.

The next morning Julie was at your house bright and early and the two of you made your way to the convention center ready to completely geek out. When you got there, the line was long, but moving fast.

“Okay, so what do you want to do first?” Jul asked, bouncing in her toes trying to warm up in the cool air.

“Gotta get in line for Tara Strong obviously, and Doug Jones. Those are the two I for sure want to meet.”

“I think James Marsters and Matthew Lewis are on the top of my list. Oh look, we’re next.”

The two of you made your way into the much warmer food court that doubled as a waiting area before the doors officially open. While waiting, the two of you got a bite to eat and admired the Cosplayers.

“Seriously, I wish I had the talent and time to do what some of these people can do.” She pointed at a group of people who had come as Thor, Loki, and Hela. You pointed out some people who had come as Spiderman, Lego people, and even the astronaut from Doctor Who. By the time the doors opened, the excitement was buzzing through your body. It was always kinda mind blowing just how massive the event is every year. So many vendors, not to mention the ever growing list of celebrity guest.

After meeting the main people you wanted to meet and getting pictures with them, it was time to shop. The amount of amazing things that people made to sell was amazing. The investment of not only money, but time, made each handmade item special. You were trying to decide between two beautiful Harry Potter themed lockets when Jul started patting your arm fast.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N. Look. Looook!” Turning, you immediately saw what, well who, had your friend losing her mind.

“Holy shit. It’s Tom Holland.” Standing just across the walkway was the beautiful, floppy brown haired actor who you had liked since Spiderman. Your affection for him was nothing compared to how much Julie loved him, but you knew he was sweet and really did enjoy him as an actor.

Before you could say anything more, a voice came over the intercom. “Attention guest! We have a special guest joining us today! Tom Holland will be on the floor for pictures and autographs till three. He will also be attending the panel in room 140 at four. Hope to see you all there!”

“Y/N, I have to go see him!” Julie’s light green eyes were huge with the idea of getting to finally meet him.

You smiled. “Well, go quick before the line gets too long. I’ll be right here.”

She kissed your cheek and ran off to the quickly growing line. While she met her crush, you wondered around, buying some stuff for your parents and your brother. It wasn’t long before Julie returned, a smile plastered across her face and a photo clutched to her chest.

“Oh word. He truly is a gift from above. Honestly, if I didn’t know Mitch was my soulmate, I would secretly hope it was Tom. You should have seen him, A little boy was in front of me dressed like Spiderman, and Tom came around and got right at his level to talk to him. Even pretended to get webbed for a photo. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.” She gave a happy sigh and leaned into you.

“Well, we still have his panel at four that could be fun. Let’s go see a few more people. Get a bite to eat and go wait for some decent seats.”

Julie nodded, looping her arm around yours and marching off toward the line for a voice actor from Mitch’s favorite video game.

It was roughly 3:30 when you made it to the room for the panel and it was surprisingly pretty empty so you were able to get good seats. The volume of the room grew as people made their way to seats, but the moment someone stepped on stage it was quiet.

“Hello everyone, I’m Bill! Thank you for coming to this surprise panel, I see we still have some people coming in so I’ll take a moment to let everyone get settled.” A few shuffles of chairs could be heard then all went silent. “Excellent, So today we have Tom Holland joining us, so let give him a round of applause!” The room erupted in claps and shouts as Tom entered the stage, waving at everyone before taking a seat. “Well Tom, how are you?”

“I’m doing absolutely amazing. I had a wonderful time greeting fans and am so lucky to be here.”

“We are happy you could join us. You’re a busy man so let’s get right to it shall we? Spider-Man Two. What can you tell us?”

Tom made a cute scrunched face. “Honestly, not much. I know I’m in it, and Robert is in it, and Jacob and Zendaya. But truly that’s all I’ve been allowed to say. They are trying very hard to keep me mum about it.” The audience laughed.

“Well, I tried.” Bill stuck his hands up in defeat. “Any word on how Avengers Four is coming along?”

Tom gave a tight lipped nod. “Again, not much I can say on that either Bill. When I asked the Russo brothers they told me to just say “itsa coming” and nothing else.” He made a zip and lock motion across his lips. “But, I will say it’ll be epic and hopefully make up for the last movie.”

Bill and Tom went back and forth for a while, joking and laughing and eventually they opened the floor for questions. People asked all kinds of stuff, like what was it like getting to work with all these stars, and how does he take is tea. The interactions between him and everyone really opened your eyes to just how genuine of a guy is was.

After almost an hour, Bill announced that sadly it was time for Tom to go. He agreed to take a picture standing in front of everyone, so we all gathered close while Tom stood at the front doing the Spider-Man pose.

First, there was a scream, then some pushing. Everyone wanted to get closer. Somehow you and Julie got separated as you were pushed closer to the front. Suddenly your chest was getting tight, there were bodies everywhere and loud voices. Then, you were in the floor, more screaming, two sets of hands were on either arm pulling you up and out of the crowd. You were sat in a chair, one pair of arms let go, the others stayed.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes were closed and the voice was muffled by the ringing in your ears. You reached out and touched their arm, nodding your head and steadying your breath. “Okay, you stay here I’ll send someone over to help you.” You nodded again.

It started when the person let go. That feeling of a sunburn on your wrist, the burn. Your eyes shot open, scanning the swarm of bodies for the person who had touched you. It was no use though, with everyone running around it was a madhouse.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N are you okay!?” You looked up to meet the familiar green eyes of Julie.

You ghosted your fingers over your burning skin. “It happened. The. It. Julie, it happened.”

“Really?” She practically squealed. “Who was it!”

You locked eyes with her, watching her face fall at your reaction. “I don’t know.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom

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looselucy · 6 years

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Eight - Tease

My phone buzzed in my hand, having clearly fallen asleep whilst attempting to brush through my twitter feed.

I groaned and turned on my side, still slightly disappointed that Harry had left the previous evening. Though it was definitely for the best, it didn’t retract from the fact I wanted as much of him as I could get before he left once again. I rolled my eyes at the memory before checking my phone, annoyed with myself for getting emotional, for doubting myself thanks to other people. I couldn’t let that happen again; I didn’t want to lose myself. Harry was right, I was more than strong enough, more than capable of standing on my own two feet. Don’t let them get to you. My phone buzzing again finally brought me back round, glancing down to the screen and furrowing my brows, the light of my phone stinging my eyes a little. I had two texts from Alex. Turner: You’re a fucking legend! The second was a link to a website. I had no idea what to expect as I clicked the link and waited for my phone to load the page, feeling more and more anxious with each passing second. As soon as the window was open, I was surprised I hadn’t figured it out earlier. The headline of a Daily Mail article read. Anna Black finally speaks publicly, only to offend a room full avid AM fans. I swore at my phone, knowing that those ‘avid AM fans’ they’d mentioned were actually mainly just folk from the media, people there to say they were there rather than having any real reason to be. They weren’t fans at all, in fact, I imagined about 90% of the people in that room had never even bothered to listen to the album. “What a load of shit.” I mumbled to myself. I scrolled down the article, shaking my head as I read about how rude I was, about fans asking to take pictures with me and me turning them down, which was all bullshit. There was a part of me was angered by what I was reading. Angered about the lies, angered at the fact that really, I had brought it on myself, for walking around with a face like a slapped arse all evening and telling the crowd to go fuck themselves. But another part of me couldn’t help but grin, thinking about how the PR man’s blood must have been boiling. That made me smile. As I reached the end of the article, I was disappointed to see that they had said that it wasn’t too surprising, that it was part of my image. I wasn’t helping myself out at all. I was practically living up to this fake persona they had developed for me. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to let people in or not. I certainly didn’t want anyone to think I was this awful and arrogant person I was being portrayed as, but revealing myself more freely and honestly felt like subconsciously opening a door; letting people see me and nosy in on my life. Maybe it was a good thing, having such a bad reputation. Maybe keeping that door closed was actually what I wanted. I was so back and forth. A knock on my door pulled me from my battling mind. “Come in!” Rachel popped her head round the corner, clearly feeling uneasy as to whether to come in or not. I threw my head back a little, signalling for her to come inside. She gave a weak smile, walking over and sitting on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry.” She spoke towards the floor. “So am I.” I told her. “Why are you sorry?” She looked at me confused. “Just ‘cause you acted like a royal twat, doesn’t give me the right to do the same.” She laughed appreciatively, her body relaxing right away as she went from seeming incredibly tense, to returning to her normal, bubbly self. She began to clamber over me so she was on the free side of the bed, climbing under the sheets and snuggling down. “I’m naked.” I told her once she was tucked in. “I really don’t care.” I tucked myself in with her, turning on my side to look at her, both shooting one another apologetic smiles, knowing nothing more needed to be said about it. She was my best friend, and since everything happened with the video, it sometimes felt like she was the only normal part of my life I had left. She was the only person who could really keep me sane. It was a given that we would have the occasional argument, but it really didn’t need to last. She was my rock. I needed her. I felt a moment of weakness wash over me, desperate to tell her about what was going on between me and Harry, but I quickly changed my mind, realising the fact that it was a secret from the entire world was part of the excitement, that was one of the reasons it was so exciting. We lay in bed all morning just talking, reminiscing and laughing together, it was just what I needed.

March 10th. Hair extensions tugged on my head to the point where it felt as though my neck was going to snap, and yet another skin-tight all in one clung to my skin, so tight and constricting it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Three different people prodded at my face with makeup brushes and mascara and contraptions I’d never even seen before, threatening to take out my eye at any minute, and I had to physically force myself not to flinch away from their touch. I wistfully cast my mind back to the evening of The Brits, when the incredible woman had done my makeup so well, and she had such a sense about her. I found myself wishing I had her doing my makeup once again, but instead I had one woman with bright yellow hair and two boys, both wonderfully camp and witty, the three of them collectively wearing more makeup than I had ever worn in my entire life, all muttering between one another about some ‘bitch’ called Louise and can you believe she slept with Tina’s boyfriend. I was practically half asleep. The set of the video for ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ was as simple as it could possibly get, just a plain white backdrop, and a few lights. I saw Alex from the corner of my eye, stood looking just as lifeless as me as someone altered his skin too, seemingly uninterested. Finally, my three minions moved away, not even speaking a word to me as they finished their work, walking off together, still gossiping. I looked in the mirror, unable to believe it was me looking back at myself. My hair was fucking huge, long and wavy, around 80% blonde thanks to the extensions they’d attached vigorously, only my roots a dark brown. The suit was incredible; made up of different black bands that wove together and covered parts of my body that really needed covering, revealing sections of my skin at certain points, the flesh that was on show cold thanks to the studios lack of heat. My eyes were dark, black eyeshadow shaping them and bringing out the blue, and my lips seemed to be a bright pink shade, though from what I could remember they hadn’t actually put anything on my lips. I suppose my mind had been elsewhere. They could have painted my lips with chalk and I would have been none the wiser. If I’m to be 100% honest, I felt kind of amazing. I would never usually put so much effort into my appearance, and I had never been one for dressing up too much, or wearing any substantial amount of makeup, so it was different looking in the mirror and seeing that, the big blonde hair and smouldering eyes. I quite liked it, but also liked that it was a rarity. “Okay, let’s go.” The director shouted. I made my way over to Alex, standing next to him as I was told. I was handed a cigarette once again, having to pretend I smoked for the sake of the video. Myself and Alex stood next to one another, just slightly apart, looking into the camera, unti, he turned his head and looked me up and down. “Fucking hell.” He almost giggled. “You look different.” “I feel like a seventies porn-star.” I huffed “You watch a lot of seventies porn?” “All the time. It’s my favourite.” Alex laughed heartily as I turned back to the camera, smiling to myself slightly, easing thanks to his company. He hadn’t been there for the last shoot, but I’d gotten to know him so well since, that I considered him a good friend. I was grateful for his easing presence. The video was going to be as simple as possible, black and white, Alex singing along, with me next to him, moving slowly and with any luck, seductively to the music. That was literally it. Simple, but hopefully effective. Regardless, we were still stuck there until around midnight, trying to shoot it perfectly, trying to make everything the way the director had envisioned it, the way Alex wanted it to be. It was a little foreign, having to act with Alex in a sexual way, moving up against him at certain points, having him grasp my extensions as the lyrics sang hold your hair in deep devotion, tugging on it during the following line and hips lips almost grazing my neck. It was just all so surreal, but hopefully it would make for another good video. It was just minutes before midnight when the director finally told us we were done. As soon as I could, I yanked the extensions out of my hair, feeling the release on my neck right away, back to the normality of brown hair with just a hint of blonde at the ends. “Oh thank fuck.” I exhaled. The cameramen and people working on the set began to make their way out of the building, myself and Alex thanking them as they left. “What’s your plan now?” Alex asked. “I’m stuck between the idea of going to bed or going out for a drink.” “Let’s go get a drink. I’ll buy.” “I just got paid half a million for being in this video, Alex. I’ll fucking buy. I’ve got nowt else to buy.” Just as I was about to go into the changing room to put something normal on, Alex grabbed my arm, swinging me back round to meet him, our bodies almost colliding. “Don’t get changed.” He said. “Let’s tease people.”

We walked into K, already in fits of laughter thanks to a hilarious taxi ride together, enjoying each other’s company, ready to drink the evening away. I liked Alex. It took me a while to be calm and fully myself around him, but by this stage of my life, I found his company so easy. I was totally myself, completely relaxed around him at the same time as being in awe of him. He was probably the most self-assured person I had ever met, and of course it was a little big-headed at times, he really did think a lot of himself, but then it would only take me a minute to think of the fact he was Alex fucking Turner, and I realised I kind of had to let him off. He knew full well he was a spectacle, and he just lapped it up. It was both tedious and admirable at the same time. But as vain as he was, he was entirely himself at least, which in turn made me feel like I could be myself. We pushed through the crowds towards the bar, spotting the occasional face glare his way, point towards Alex, recognising who he was, but nobody ever bothered us. As much as I couldn’t stand Kyle after what I had learnt about him, he had done a bloody good job with the bar. He was getting the exact crowd I imagined he was hoping he would, it was becoming a regular place for me, Harry had been there, now Alex, and most people there just acted totally casual, like they saw those people every day. It wasn’t the kind of place I was accustom to. We stood at the bar, waiting to be served as I pulled my phone from my bag, seeing I had a text from Rachel, who we were planning on meeting there. Rach: Are you here yet? I’m so fucking excited. Also you were right about Kyle, I’m currently working on making him jealous. You’re going to shit yourself when you see who with. I furrowed my brows, tracking across the room to try and find her, see what she was talking about. My eyes met her soon enough. Her incredibly long brown hair tied into a tight ponytail, falling beautiful from the top of her head, sleek and shiny, beautiful olive skin that looked like she had literally just moisturized, skin tight green dress, talking to Harry. I was overcome with a jealousy I had not expected, feeling disheartened as he whispered into her ear and she stuck her chest in his face. To be honest, I hated it because it was Rachel. It wasn’t just any girl, it was Rachel. I was always the tag along with Rachel, she was typically more attractive than me in every sense of the word, more open, confident, presented herself with a lot more care than I did. She was stunning. I had always been the friend who stood on the side-lines as men fell at her feet. Whilst my eyes had been drawn to the sight I didn’t care to see, Alex had bought us both a beer. He passed me mine and I grabbed it quickly, almost downing the entire bottle in one foul swoop. Liquid courage. I could see Alex figure out that something had bothered me, looking to me with confused eyes as I stood just staring at Rachel and Harry conversing with one another. “S’wrong?” He asked me. I slammed my already empty bottle onto the bar, and signalled to the bar tender I wanted another, to which he obliged. “Are we teasing people?” I turned to Alex. “It could be fun.” He shrugged. “Yeah, it will, let’s do it.” I think Alex knew there was an underlying reason for me wanting to act away with him, that it wasn’t just to tease the crowd, or get people talking. He knew there was another reason for it, but he didn’t ask, he just humoured me. I nodded my head in the direction of Rachel and Harry so he knew where we were headed. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him, the crowd parting for him, like he had this divine power over them. It blew my mind, the affect that he had on people simply through the way he was acting, the way he was holding himself, how confident he was. Alex had an aura around him, people didn’t even need to know who he was to move for him, he had a pull around him, like an invisible bubble. Such an impressive specimen. Rachel squealed as soon as she saw me, standing herself up and throwing her arms around my neck. I watched Harry’s face drop over her shoulders, as I pretended I wasn’t even aware of the fact he was there. As soon as she stopped screaming she leant into my ear. “I’m sat with Harry fucking Styles, Anna. Trying my luck.” I just smiled, not saying a word about it. I had nothing positive to say, so it wasn’t even worth opening my mouth. She pulled out and went to shake hands with Alex, who happily obliged, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. I could see she wanted to scream again, looking up to the ceiling as though silently thanking god, but she stayed as calm as physically possible, only shaking slightly. Harry still looked up to me wide eyed, but we didn’t say anything to one another. I think it was down to both the situation we had found ourselves in, and the deal we had agreed to. It was our secret. As far as anyone else there knew, I didn’t even know Harry. Rachel drew back from Alex, who effortlessly pulled me towards him again, like an overprotective partner. I was his touch. It was fun in a way, acting like that with him. I had always enjoyed theatre studies at school, and I’d convinced myself that this whole AM Girl charade was just like a really intense version of that. Alex leaned and whispered in my ear. “Are you fucking Harry Styles?” My eyes widened a little at his accurate prediction, and I dropped my head to the floor, making sure nobody could see my reaction his words. I then proceeded to take my head and whisper back to him. “It’s supposed to be a secret.” Alex grinned, a cheeky suggestive grin. “And you want to make him jealous?” We both stood close, our lips looking as though they were going to collide together at any second as I nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay, let’s do it.” He grinned. “What’re friends for?” With that, he kissed my neck, and dragged me off towards the crowd, closer to the band onstage, trailing his hand down to my bum and resting it there. I glanced back over my shoulder as we walked off together, and I could just about make out the temples of Harry’s head puffing in and out. I brought my head back around, and chortled to myself. I knew he didn’t like it, and I thrived off that. For around twenty minutes, I danced with Alex, our hands searching each other’s bodies playfully as we swayed, less than fazed by our touching. He spoke into my ear as we moved, Harry in his gaze. “He hates this.” Alex mumbled, clearly enthralled by our antics. “Yeah?” “He’s not even talking to anyone anymore, he’s just watching you.” “He isn’t talking to Rach?” I quizzed. “Nah. He only has eyes for you, kid.” I smiled to myself, knowing my little show had paid off, that Harry wasn’t going to go home with Rachel, that I wouldn’t get home to find them naked with one another in my flat. Harry could shag whoever the fuck he wanted, but not her. “Thank you.” I brought my head round to Alex. “No worries, love. It was fun anyway.” He shrugged and grinned. “Now, you head for the door, and I guarantee he will get up and follow.” “How do you know that?” I laughed it off. “Trust me. He’ll be on his feet in seconds.” I leant inwards, giving Alex a small kiss on the cheek, no longer taking part in our parade, just giving him a thankful kiss. He gave me a friendly wink, and sent me on my way. I made sure my hips flicked from side to side as I walked away, through the crowds, wanting to make my way home, but wanting Harry to follow. I crossed my fingers for a split second before uncrossing them, wishing I cared less but desperate for him to want me. I quickly made my way up the stairs and out the door, the cold air nipping at my revealed skin. It was only then I remembered I still had the outfit on from the video shoot earlier, and I suddenly felt totally ridiculous. Every single curve of my body was on show, every damn imperfection, and I finally started feeling as uncomfortable as I probably should have done all evening. The street was basically empty thanks to the absurd location of K, and I was thankful for it. “HEY!” I heard the voice from behind me. I breathed in a sigh of happiness and relief. Alex had been spot on. I turned around to see Harry pacing up to me, looking slightly flustered and angry. I simply stood looking at him as he came to a still in front of me. “Harry! I almost didn’t recognise you without my best friend’s ear attached to your lips.” “Were you jealous?” He asked. “Were you?” I threw back at him. “I asked first.” I faltered, unable to answer him, running my tongue across my teeth. Of course I was. I didn’t want to be but I was, and I couldn’t hide it. “Harry, you can fuck whoever you want, as long as it’s not the girl I live with.” “That was the girl you live with?” He gawped. I nodded to him. We shared a moments silence, the wind and the faint music from the club being the only things surrounding us in that moment. Harry awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, seeming a little mad at himself. I was more than aware of the fact that if Harry had known that, he wouldn’t have even gone near Rachel, but I had still wanted to make him jealous. And I liked that it worked. “So you were trying to make me jealous?” He bit his lip and stepped towards me. “Did it work?” I looked up to him. “Mm… I’m ashamed to say it did.” “Jealousy is a risky feeling.” I stated. “One we both felt.” He took another step, controlling a strand of my hair that was blowing in the wind by tucking it behind my ear. I had begun to hate myself for the amount I enjoyed his touch, but the feelings his body introduced to mine couldn’t be restrained. “So… what should we do about that?” I couldn’t help but focus on his lips. “Maybe we should call this a day. Before anyone’s feelings get hurt?” “I think you’re right.” I trailed my fingers to the bottom of his shirt, taking the last button and undoing it. He grinned down to me, my favourite dark glimmer lighting his eyes. “So are you coming back to mine then?” He smirked.

My eyes fell open to an unfamiliar room. Harry’s room. I turned my head to the side, seeing him still in a deep slumber next to be, the bedsheets only partly covering his body. He was just as breath-taking in that state as he was when he was lulling me into his bed. I let my eyes explore the room, which was much bigger than my own, unsurprisingly. It was relatively plain bar one wall, which was totally covered in different band posters. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, ACDC, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin. It was fucking covered. I must have been staring at it for a good ten minutes, totally captured by it before Harry stirred beside me. He grunted, rubbing his eyes before revealing them to me. Bright green. “Morning.” He grumbled. “Good morning.” I cooed. Harry propped himself upright, using his elbows to support his gorgeous body as he came to terms with his woken self, breathing in and out slowly. “Your posters are amazing.” I said, still gazing at them. “You like them?” “I’m especially fond of the Fleetwood Mac one. Rumours is probably my favourite album of all time.” “Really?” He brought his head round to me. “Absolutely.” He grinned, then looked back to the posters. We sat in silence just gazing at them for a while. It was strange, really, getting a little insight into Harry and the things he liked. I couldn’t even believe he had let me into his home at all. I had imagined he would want to keep it as private as possible. I suppose I had only seen the hallway and the stairs other than his bedroom, since we practically sprinted up the stairs to get to bed the night before, but it was still interesting to me that he had let me in. “Are you hungry?” He suddenly asked. “Fucking starving!” I gasped, whipping my head to him. “I don’t even know why!” “Then I have a very important question for you.” “Okay... I’m prepared.” “Are you... by any chance... a fan of cold pizza?” He grinned. “Such a big fan.” I sighed. “Thank god. I feel so much better knowing that.” We both smiled towards one another, giggling slightly. Harry then brought himself up to me on all fours, holding his face close to mine, licking over his lips as he brought his face to mine. I looked back into his eyes, trying to control the colour of my cheeks. “Can we come up with a new agreement?” He asked. “That depends. What would the new agreement be?” “Whilst I’m here, before I go back on tour, we don’t sleep with anyone else.” “Harry-” I tried. “No, just hear me out. I think-” “Harry, that’s risky as hell.” “You weren’t going to sleep with anyone anyway!” He gawked. “But I would like the option to be there.” I laughed. “Anna… I just… I really fucking hated that jealous feeling.” “So did I, but-” “Just for now. I’m leaving in a month. For now, let’s just be me and you.” Before I could give him a firm no, he took his lips and began leaving small kisses against my jaw, from just before my ear down to my chin, breathing heavily as he did so. As soon as he reached my chin I moved my head so that his lips pressed to mine. He hummed against my kiss, taking a hand and running it through my hair. As the kiss ended he pulled away, and we were both a little breathless. “One month. We’re not going to feel anything if it’s just one month.” He whispered. “And if we do?” “We… We end things at the first sign of it.” He finalized. I sighed and rolled my eyes, knowing that things could go incredibly wrong, but I hated that jealous feeling too, and he was right, I had no plans to sleep with anybody else. One month. It couldn’t hurt to be that way for one month. “Okay.” Harry moved in and bit my lip, making sure I was heated and bothered before he pulled away, a cheeky grin on his face. “Cold pizza?” He smiled.

#LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #AMG8 #1dff

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