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dreamcubed · 9 months

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call it what you want | draco malfoy x reader

song; call it what you want [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x fem!muggle!reader genre; fluff, angst, forbidden love, s2l word count; 4,3k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; draco's daddy issues, low-key y/n's daddy issues, references to the second wizarding war (and draco's part in it), discrimination (of muggleborns) summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

suggested by @tendous-pretty-hair !!

masterlist

"my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new."

also i have fucking eras tour tickets!!!

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Draco had found himself at an emotional stand-still ever since the Second Wizarding War - more specifically the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. After he had regrettably joined Voldemort's side in the mass fallout, only for him to lose anyway. He wasn't sentenced to any time in Azkaban, since it was deemed that he had been coerced into the situation, as backed up by his mother, who had been pardoned due to saving Harry Potter's life in the final moments. His father, however, would never feel the light of happiness again, caged away in the breeding ground of fear.

It wasn't that Draco missed Lucius all that much, in fact, quite the opposite. The time away from him had allowed him and Narcissa to grow closer, and also given him the opportunity to properly question and break down the beliefs that had been hammered into his head since infancy.

Eventually, he decided to step foot into unknown territory: muggle London. He had only ever been to the magic side of it before, but he had come to the realisation that living such a sheltered life was the reason he wound up another of Voldemort's slaves. That lifestyle would be no more.

He found himself stood outside of a small music store, displayed to have vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes inside - whatever they were. Draco did know what music was, however, and wanted to understand the way that muggles experienced it. So, he stepped foot into the shop with the tinkling of a tiny silver bell above him alerting whoever was working behind the tall overflowing shelves.

There were more people perusing the shelves than he had anticipated, so he ducked his head down and headed to an emptier area of the shop. As he began scanning the labels on the shelves, his confusion grew as he realised that he recognised none of the names.

"You don't look like a death metal fan," a voice to his left caught him by surprise, making him jump.

He turned around to have his eyes meet the gaze of a woman wearing an amused smile. You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his skittishness.

"Forgive me, but it's not everyday we have a man dressed in a perfectly ironed suit come and check out the works of Morbid Angel."

After his brain caught up to him, he said, "You work here?"

You nodded, "Family business - me and my mum."

Draco didn't reply to your statement, turning back to the shelves.

"You seem a little lost, first time in a music shop?"

"Uh- yeah," he said, "My family never played music growing up." That was a lie - the Malfoys had held many a musical event, however, they took the form of private orchestral bands.

"You're joking," your expression was that of shock, "How have you lived such a musicless life?"

He shrugged.

"God, I was practically raised on music- I mean, obviously," you gestured around you, "It's everything to me."

"My father was a very strict man," he said simply, making you hum.

"I see. God, I just can't believe you've hardly listened to music - we have to change that," you said, "Do you have any idea what sort of sounds you like?"

"I think I like classical music," it was all he had ever really known.

You grinned, "Yeah, that definitely suits the way you're dressed more than death metal. Come on, I'll set you up with some stuff. Vinyls, CDs or tapes?"

From what he could gather, vinyls were the larger circles, and he was pretty sure that Malfoy Manor had a phonograph with the large brass tube attached for the purpose of playing them. Like the one he saw at the Yule Ball all those years ago. "Uh, vinyl? The big black disc?"

You bobbed your head, "They're becoming less popular these days - people mostly want CDs," you then paused for a moment, "Although my mum said they'll probably have a resurgence in another twenty years. Making an aesthetic of past trends and all that."

Draco listened curiously as you babbled on about different musicians, bands, and albums, finding himself enraptured by the way you carried yourself. Salazar, his father would throw a fit if he found out that he was willingly talking to a muggle.

But his father wasn't there.

"So, do any of these interest you?" you finished, smiling at the ever stoic man before you.

"Uh, yes- all of them," he wasn't sure if he liked the music genre you suggested or the way you talked so passionately.

"All of them?" you tilted your head, "That's- like- hundreds of pounds."

He began digging around in his pockets for the money he had exchanged earlier before coming, and your eyes widened at the sight of all the twenty pound notes.

"Right," you said in a state of shock, "I'll... ring these up for you."

As you totalled up the price and packaged the vinyls into a bag over at the till, the man watched you, as if he was meticulously detailing your every move. Weirdly, it didn't feel creepy.

"Okay that will be... £404.39," you said, in awe of the fact he seemed unfazed by the number.

He began counting out the notes, before handing them over to you: £420 worth of twenty pound notes in your hand. You counted the change out and handed it back to him, placing the receipt in the bag.

"Thank you for shopping here, come again..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"Draco," he said, stopping himself before saying his last name. Although he knew that you wouldn't recognise it anyway.

You couldn't help but think that he had a peculiar name; regardless, you smiled, and said, "Y/N. Please come again."

He nodded, taking the bag and leaving the shop swiftly without so much as looking back once.

***

A week passed by and Draco found himself stood outside of the record shop, unsure of why he had returned. During his last visit he had purchased months worth of music, so really he had no need to be back.

Except, he did.

His social circle had been non-existent ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, not because Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott no longer wanted to be friends with him, but because he had isolated himself in Malfoy Manor with his mother. Draco was nearing being ready to owl them again, but reconnecting with them meant inevitably having to unpack the events of the war.

With a muggle stranger like you, however, there was no unpacking to do.

"Draco, you're back," you grinned, coming out from behind the till, "I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

His abrupt question caught you off guard, "Well, I- I don't know. You're an interesting character," that and you thought he was cute.

Draco stared blankly at you, making you shift uncomfortably on your feet. Eventually, you decided to change the subject.

"Here for more music?"

"Oh, uh- yes."

"Well, what were your favourites from last week's purchases?"

After he told you which ones he had enjoyed the most, you were able to develop some kind of idea as to specific kinds of music to indulge him into. Of course, you had a question burning at the back of your mind that you simply had to ask.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"It's just- vinyls aren't cheap, especially not in as large a quantity as you get them," you elaborated, "I assume you have a well paying job."

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "Family money."

"You mean old money?" you couldn't help but clarify.

He reluctantly nodded, "Yes, old money." He used to be so boastful and prideful of the Malfoy family legacy, but in that moment, despite you having no idea who he was, he could only feel shame when he thought of it.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy," you chuckled, "Let's continue your musical adventure."

Even as you proceeded to serve him with a chipper attitude, you couldn't help but be saddened by learning that he was old money. There was no way that you stood a chance, since old money families liked to marry each other and not someone who was simply the daughter of a small record shop.

At least you learned that piece of information about him early on, you reasoned.

***

"Back? Again?" you questioned incredulously, spying Draco stood in the doorway of your shop, "Hate to turn you away, but we're about to close."

"I know."

You paused, frowning slightly as you grasped hold of the door, "Uh, okay, then... bye?" You began slowly shutting the door.

"Wait."

Again, you paused.

"I need help."

Opening the door fully again, you placed a hand on your hip as you said, "With regards to what?"

You didn't know what to think when he presented a small battered flip phone to you on his milky white palm.

"A phone?"

"I found it. On the floor."

"Musta fell outta someone's pocket," you shrugged, "Happens - why do you need help?"

"Well, don't we need to do something about it?"

All you could do was look at him curiously.

"Is that not- is that not what you do?" maybe he was overcompensating for his past by trying desperately to do one small good deed, or maybe he was trying to prove to you that he was a good person even though you had no reason to believe otherwise. Either way, he wanted to return the muggle contraption to its rightful owner.

"I mean- I guess? If you're feeling nice," you said simply, "Can't lie, I'd probably leave it for someone else to deal with."

"How do I return it?"

You sighed, "Just call the last person they called."

"Right, okay."

Much to your confusion, Draco stared at the device as if he was trying to will it into doing what he wanted.

"You do know how to call someone, yes?" you asked, your arms now folded across your chest.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head.

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside, "Come in."

Once Draco was inside your shop, you shut the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Give it," you made a grabbing motion with your fingers, and the man before you immediately handed over the device, "It's really easy-" he watched in amazement as you flipped open the phone, "-just use the arrow buttons here to go to call history- and, oh, look! Last person they called was their mum- press the green call button and bam."

You presented the now dialling phone to him.

"They have been notified now?"

"Well, her phone will be ringing- hopefully she'll pick up."

"Pick up?"

"Hello?" a voice from the phone announced, "Cadie?"

"Hello, ma'am, your daughter dropped her phone and we found it."

"Oh, I see. Thank you- I'll let her know so she can pick it up. Where's a good place?"

As you told the concerned mother the address of your record shop, you watched Draco's intrigued expression.

You hung up, placing the phone on a nearby surface and beginning to walk to the back room, "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

He stared blankly at you for a few moments, before nodding, "Please."

"How do you take it?"

"No milk, one sugar."

You chuckled to yourself at his strange way of having tea.

***

Draco watched you as you chatted mindlessly while sipping your tea, almost entirely forgetting that he had his own cup sat to his side. Your topics were classically boring - yet so interesting to him. He was enthralled to learn about the different characters in your family, and the trials and tribulations of your school years. He hadn't even realised how little he had said until you pointed it out.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" he went, snapping out of his daze.

"I feel like I've just been talking about myself this entire time. Where did you go to school?"

"Oh- uh-" he desperately pulled together all his thoughts, "A private boarding school in Scotland."

Your mouth dropped open, "Wow, that's cool."

He shrugged.

"Did you miss your family while you were away all year?"

Again, he shrugged, "My mother, yes- my father... not so much."

"I don't see my father at all," you added, to make him feel more comfortable about sharing details of his own father, "I used to... but I realised it was always me reaching out and not him so I stopped. Haven't heard from him since."

Draco nodded, "My father is in prison."

He didn't know why he told you, only realising what he had just said when you froze for a few seconds with widened eyes.

"Can I ask what for?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh... terrorism, murder... that sort of thing," he had no clue why he was being so honest. Had you put veritaserum in the tea?

You cleared your throat, wanting to delicately change the subject but lacking a way on how to do it naturally. Draco observed you, and opened his mouth to say something more when a knock sounded on the door.

"That's- uh- that's probably the phone owner," you said quickly, rushing to your feet to run out of the back room and let them in.

You opened the door to be faced with a short brunette woman.

"Cadie?" you questioned.

She nodded, "You have my phone?"

"Yes, come in."

"Thank you so much- I really can't afford a new one right now," she sighed, "I'm always losing things."

You chuckled, "I know how you feel- I'm always breaking things."

Draco appeared in the doorway to the back and picked up the phone from the counter.

Cadie sighed happily, accepting the phone and thanking the both of you profusely.

"Seriously, you have no idea how appreciative I am."

"It's no trouble, Cadie, really," you assured her.

She paused for a moment, looking around. "Is this your shop?"

You bobbed your head, "Yes, it's family-owned."

"Oh, that's so cool," she looked towards Draco, "So this is your husband?"

You were so taken aback you couldn't even form a response. Before either of you could reply, the phone began ringing.

"It's my boss! I have to take this," she said, "Thank you so much again. You two are a cute couple." And with that final comment, she departed, leaving you and Draco in an awkward silence.

"I-" you began, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Go on a date with me," Draco hurriedly said, realising he had said it like an order rather than an innocent question. He was still in some ways his old bossy teenage self, socialised in a slightly abnormal way.

You took it in good humour, however, and smiled, "I would love to."

***

The following six months were filled with the fanciest and most luxurious dates that you could ever have possibly imagined: five star restaurants, weekends in Paris, and expensive gifts. It was heaven in all ways but one - Draco always had an excuse for you not meeting his family and friends.

For a while, you had ignored the itching feeling that he was ashamed of you and so kept you a secret, but your suspicions grew until you couldn't keep it in anymore. You had to confront him about it.

"...and I was thinking, we should go out for dinner with your mother," you said, flicking through a magazine as Draco sat on the sofa in your small but homely flat.

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever's good for her."

You heard Draco's breath hitch.

"What? Can't come up with an excuse to get out of this one?" your tone held evident bite.

Draco turned around to face you, but his expression was unreadable.

"Are you ashamed of me, Draco?"

His eyes widened.

"I know I'm not rich, let alone old money, but I'd like to think that I'm a likeable person."

He shook his head, "It's not that-"

"Then what is it, Draco?" you snapped, feeling tears fill up your eyes, "You won't even introduce me to your friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

He stood up and began shifting on his feet and fidgeting with his hands, "It's more complicated than that."

"What? You're engaged to someone else?"

Again, he shook his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" you waved your hands about, "Because I can't date someone who treats me like a secret."

"You wouldn't believe me!" he yelled, clearly unintentionally.

You were shocked: you had never heard him yell before. "Try me," you said, your voice low.

He sighed, moving around helplessly for a few moments before striding over to his bag by your front door. He reached his hand in - what appeared to be deeper than the bag's actual depth, but you dismissed it due to your blurred vision - and pulled out a blank piece of paper, tinged brown.

He came over to you and placed it on the kitchen island you were stood behind, and pointed at the bottom of the page. "Sign here."

"It's blank," you thought he was insane.

"Just trust me. Please."

You gave him a skeptical look, but wiped your eyes and picked up a pen nonetheless, writing your signature in the area he pointed to. To your amazement, the second you finished the last letter of your name, writing appeared on the paper. As you scanned it, you were increasingly confused.

- By signing this non-disclosure agreement, you agree that as a muggle you shall not disclose the existence of wizardry and witchcraft to anyone not already in knowledge of it. You understand that by doing so, you would be breaking the law and could face potential criminalisation. The wizard or witch of whom has vouched for your approval to know of magic shall also face potential criminalisation in such a situation.

It will no longer be a criminal offence for wizards and witches to perform magic with you as a witness unless there are unapproved muggles also present.

You will be granted access to wizard-only areas including but not limited to Diagon Alley and Platfrom Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross provided that you are accompanied by a wizard or witch. Please be aware that these permissions may vary in other countries depending on their laws surrounding muggle knowledge of magic and also their acceptance of the British Muggle Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Please sign your name below. -

"What is this?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

"An NDA."

"Yes, I- I gathered that- but- what does it mean?"

"It means... that I'm a wizard."

Part of you wanted to burst out laughing at Draco's insane words, but the way he said it held so much depth that you couldn't help but take it seriously.

"Prove it."

You didn't know what you had expected, but you certainly didn't anticipate your boyfriend pulling out a wand and muttering what sounded like Latin under his breath.

The pen on the table before you morphed into a feather.

There were really no words to describe how you felt in that moment. You asked him to do it again - he turned the feather into a sharpener. You asked him to do it one more time - he turned the sharpener into a fork.

"Oh my God," you said at the volume of a whisper, stepping back and falling against the counter behind you, "What the actual fuck."

"I know this may come as a shock to you..."

"Really?" you said, "No, actually. Not freaking out at all. Not even a little."

He pursed his lips, "My family is what is known as pure-bloods. We haven't mixed with muggles when it comes to reproduction at any point in our bloodline - allegedly."

You stared at him.

"Sometimes, a witch or wizard can be born of muggle parents - we call them muggle-borns. Half-bloods make up the most of wizarding society - their ancestors are a mix of muggle, muggle-born, pure-blood and half-blood."

At your lack of speech, he continued.

"There is a culture of supremacy among pure-blood families - choosing to reproduce only with other pure-bloods to ensure the pure-blooded line continues as they believe themselves to be the only true witches and wizards."

"You're pure-blood," you mumbled.

Draco nodded, "I used to think like that. Used to bully muggle-borns in school - the school I went to being specifically for witches and wizards."

"You don't think like that anymore?"

"No," he quickly said, "I've had a lot of time to question everything I was taught to believe - but, I- there's something really bad I have to tell you. It may change your opinion of me forever and it's the reason why I have kept you away from my family and friends."

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"Years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world..." he began.

***

You had never seen Draco in tears before, but when he reached the details of the final showdown between Harry Potter (a heroic celebrity in the wizarding world) and Lord Voldemort (a wizard terrorist), he broke down in sobs as he recalled him walking over to the latter's side. Tears were falling down your cheeks soon too, and you quickly brought Draco into your arms and felt him collapse into you.

"I regret it every single day," he said through sobs, "Why didn't I have more of a backbone?"

"You were just a boy, Draco," you soothed him, "You didn't want your family to be killed."

He cried harder.

"My opinion of you is not changed - by the sounds of it you never actually killed anyone yourself," you thought back to the Professor Dumbledore section of the story, "In fact, it sounds like you couldn't bring yourself to."

"I can never make up for my past, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "You dating a muggle is pretty solid evidence you're trying to."

"I'm not dating you because you're muggle," he pulled back from you and looked you in the eyes.

You chuckled slightly, wiping the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs, "That's not what I was saying. Young you would have never even considered entering the muggle world, and yet here adult you is."

He gave you a small smile, "I love you."

You beamed, but teardrops were still cascading down your cheeks, "I love you too."

"Let's have dinner with my mother on Sunday."

***

"Mr Malfoy, you may see your father now," the Azkaban worker said, who Draco couldn't help but think reminded him strongly of Filch. An old miserable man with long scraggly hair, an unmissable limp, and filthy dark-coloured robes. Then again, at least this worker had a reason to be miserable all the time: working in the breeding ground of fear and desolation. Filch was by all means in a much more cheerful environment.

Draco nodded at him, and followed his lead down shadowed narrow corridors, caked in dirt and dust. They turned a few corners and went up a few sets of dangerously steep stairs before reaching a cell block with moans and whines coming from every cell - except one.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't known what to expect when he came to see his father: he hadn't visited once since his arrest. But Lucius looked quite different than the proud man he once was, with his once well-kept long blond hair being knotty and entwined with filth, and his once healthy (albeit pale) complexion being overly skinny with sallow sunken features. He looked up at his son, still being able to produce a slight scowl.

"So, you finally decided to visit," he drawled, but his voice was too broken to hold the same threat it used to.

"Yes, father, I have some things I need to say to you," despite Lucius' weakened state, Draco still held some lifelong fear of the man, but he had to remain strong in front of him.

"And what would that be?"

"I have a girlfriend, and I plan to propose to her."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Your mother has not mentioned this," Narcissa frequently visited her husband.

"She didn't find out until last week."

After some seconds of silence, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Draco at the cell gate. "What is her name?"

"Y/N L/N."

"L/N does not ring a bell. Which bloodline is she from?"

Draco felt intimidated by his father's close proximity, but still managed a smirk, "She isn't of pure blood, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened, "You don't mean to say she's- half blood? Or worse- a- a mudblood?"

"Worse," his smirk grew, "She's muggle."

The ghostly shock that flooded over Lucius' face made Draco feel a triumph over his father he had never felt before, and gave him the confidence to feel as though he had the upper hand in their interaction. He stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice.

"And I'm going to marry her, and have children with her, and you will have to spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell knowing that the Malfoy pure blood line has been permanently tainted."

"You can't do this," Lucius said through gritted teeth, "After everything we fought for."

Draco hummed, "See, I thought it was time for me to finally fight for something good."

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masterlist

written; 02/06/2023 —> 17/07/2023 published; 17/07/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

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dronescapesvideos · 4 months

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The Red Baron, WWI. Soldiers examine what remains of Manfred von Richthofen's aircraft after he was shot down, and killed over Vaux-sur-Somme, France, just days before his 26th birthday, but by then already an aviation legend.

➤➤ HIGHER RESOLUTION IMAGE: https://dronescapes.video/RedBaron

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whiteoakoak · 4 months

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Am i The only one thinking that Ares is kinda hot....

#percy jackson #luke castellan #percy pjo #anakin skywalker #ares god of war #ares #clarisse la rue #the lightning thief #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo x hp #percy and annabeth #anabeth chase #pjo x dc

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animentality · 5 months

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#twitter #marvel #star wars #disney #harry potter #anti hp #anti jkr

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thief-of-eggs · 4 months

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There’s nothing quite as soul-crushing as arriving late to a fandom. Especially if it’s one that you knew you would enjoy, you just never got around to diving into it. And now that you’re here, now that you’ve missed it’s prime, you’re only seeing the ghosts of what once was.

#i keep doing this to myself #the content is still great ofc #but there’s no one to share it with me #jayvik #arcane #sherlock #johnlock #drarry #dc #hp #thg #viktor league of legends #jayce lol #stardew valley #sdv #stucky #marvel #star wars #voltron

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gracexthoughts · 27 days

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Of Violent Delights

Mattheo Riddle x Potter!OC

“These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

masterlist

playlist | read on ao3 | intro

part 1; “Two households, both alike in dignity…From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

part 2; “I fear too early, for my mind misgives; Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 |

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siriusly-parker · 6 months

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—flor de maracuja [draco m.] —prologue. [intro]

[series masterlist]

tags. [draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader, students came back to finish their senior year, after the war, fluff, angst, kinda grumpy x sunshine, series]

author’s note. [really really short intro, plz tell me if you’d actually like a series!! ꩜ i siriusly love you <3]

wc. [0.67k]

“Remember! The harder the growing, the higher the grading!” Growled the teacher as the rest of his class started to pack their things and leave.

Mr. Derwen Pembroke was Madam Sprout’s gloomier Welsh replacement after the war. Of the few teachers left, not many came back to Hogwarts. The lack of staff meant that he was the only herbology professor, one who hated teaching introduction classes, as he felt he was overqualified. He constantly reminded his students of it and only kept his rudeness to a minimum with his Advanced crew. As a Herbology 101 student, Draco absolutely despised him.

“Mister Malfoy.” Draco stopped at the door. “You are failing my class.” He turned around and walked deeper inside the class towards his incredibly bored-looking teacher. “Actually, I believe I am not, Professor.” Mr. Pembroke rolled his eyes and put his feet up on his already muddy desk. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You are not failing.” Draco felt he was being condescending. “Yet.” Of course he was. “But, if your thumb doesn’t get as green as that damn tie very soon, you most definitely will be.” He sighs “I would like for you to be tutored for this assignment. Mr. Longbottom should be at the AH2 greenhouse right about now. He’ll explain everything.” Draco nodded, keeping his groaning hushed as he turned to leave the classroom. “One more thing.” Mr. Pembroke stopped him. “Don’t ever try to correct me again, Mr. Malfoy. No one likes a smartass.” The boy didn’t argue, he knew better than to bargain with a snake. “Of course, Professor.” “Don’t be a suck up either.” He was taken aback. What did this man want? But, Derwen laughed before he had the chance to finish his thought. “I’m just kidding, Draco. Don’t be so uptight.” “Well, there’s not much left for me to be now, is there, Sir?” “Smartass.” He snorts.

AH2 meant Advanced Herbology II. Their greenhouse was farther from the castle and closer to the forest, and only AH2 students or personally approved ones, like Draco, were allowed to use it. The small runned down shack didn’t interest many students, anyway. It looked old and disheveled, nothing very appealing.

When he got there, the so-called greenhouse was empty and Neville was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t really in the mood to look for him, so he hovered around all the weird looking plants, many of which he had never even seen before.

As he walked, he noticed a small passage towards what seemed to be like an extension of the place. It ended up being much bigger than what it hinted to from the outside, probably by an Undetectable Extension charm, like the one he used for his bag. It looked more like a national botanical garden than a stupid herbology class greenhouse. Entering the room, a faint melody could be heard from what Draco assumed to be the solarium.

When Draco walked into the sunlit room, he saw her. He saw the bows in her hair first. They were yellow like her skirt and the laces on her shoes.

“Are you lost?” The girl asked without turning around. Draco’s taken aback. He didn’t think she had even noticed his presence. “What?” “I’m asking if you are lost.” She says matter-of-factly. “Oh. Well, I guess I kind of am.” He tries to find the right words by rubbing the back of his neck, “...Sorry.” but she turns to face him with a bright smile he definitely didn’t expect. “No worries! I completely understand. This place is an absolute maze!” Her laugh was warm and it made the boy dizzy. Haven’t heard anyone be so friendly to him in a long time, he tries to change the conversation, so as to not think about it too much. “I’m actually waiting for Longbottom.” “That makes sense.” She smiles. “You can wait here if you want. He shouldn’t take long.” Turning back to caring for her plants, she shifts on her feet. “So… what are you working on?”

‎𐦂 hope you enjoyed it!! comment what you think! ◡̈

‧˚ʚ masterlist + requests

taglist ; @daydreamteardrop @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missstratford [restarting my tagging list/system! plz send an ask, comment, dm to be added!!]

#draco malfoy x reader #angst #fluff #draco x hufflepuff!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #flufftober #angstober #series #x you #hp x reader #after the war #angsty Draco #senior year at hogwarts #imagine #draco x reader #neville longbottom as a bestie >>#pansy parkinson being tolerable >>

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ceresartsy · 2 years

Text

Sectumsempra~

My will is as strong as porcelain

Ready to break at any moment-

--------------------------------

I'm back 🙂

#dracomalfoy #draco fanart #harry potter #hp fanart #digital painting #wizarding world #digital art #hogwarts #wizarding war #harry potter fandom #slytherin #gryffindor #severus snape #sectumsempra #artists on tumblr #art #ceresartsy #fanart #dramione

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drvconian · 6 months

Text

How You Get the Girl ...

“I just don’t know what I did.” Ron complains, leaning into the back of the couch in the Common Room, his eyes closed and his eyebrows pinched. It’s late, almost everyone else has gone to bed, which is why he speaks quietly to you: it makes you feel like you’re sharing a secret, which you technically are, but everything feels more special when it’s just Ron and you.

You like Hermione and Harry just fine, but when you all got together as a group, it always felt that he preferred them more, especially Hermione. You could understand why: she was smart and pretty, both things you envied about her. Your jealousy wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t seem like you caught Ron staring at her all the bloody time.

You shake your head, smiling softly over at him. “Girls are fragile, Ron. You can’t be as brutish as you are with your brothers or Harry.” You laugh quietly, “what kind of girl would take that as a compliment anyway?”

“I dunno.” He replies, rolling his eyes. “I would, though.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well, you gotta help me then.”

You widen your eyes at him, clearly taken aback at his request. “You want me to help you get with Hermione?”

Ron moves in closer, nodding his head slightly. “You have to. You’re one of my closest friends, I dunno who else to go to with this.”

Your heart beats hard in your chest, you have no idea how to feel. The sentiment is nice, that he trusts you enough to ask for your advice on how to impress the girl he fancies. On the other hand, it hurts to know that he even fancies another girl (even though you knew) and that he expects you to help him. You want to say no and try to convince him that Hermione and him would never work out, so you surprise yourself when… “okay, Ron. I’ll help you.”

...

A knock on your door drags you out of your reverie. You close the book in your lap and place it on the table beside you, and unfold your legs. They’re stiff from how long you’ve been sitting on your couch, and you wince slightly. You stand up and make your way over to the door, opening it slightly to peek at whoever it could be.

“Ron?”

He’s standing in your doorway, hunched over in his jacket. He’s soaking wet, his hair dripping onto his face and his jacket a shade darker than it’s supposed to be. He looks miserable standing there, but his face brightens when he sees you. “You answered.”

You nod before opening the door wider, “are you insane? Come inside before you catch a cold.”

He steps inside, brushing against you, and stands barely in the doorway. The water on his clothes drips down onto your floor, and you quickly close the door behind the two of you. You open up a closet close to the door and pull down a towel, handing it over to him so he can dry off. You watch him, the air between the two of you thickening.

“It’s been a long six months.” He begins, peeking out at you from beneath the towel that he’s drying his hair off with. You watch him, worrying your bottom lip. You don’t know what to say, you hadn’t seen him since your final, chaotic days at Hogwarts – even then, you hadn’t seen him for a long time before then. He hadn’t contacted you at all. He takes a deep breath. “I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted. I’ve always been too scared of that.”

...

“Tell her something cheesy like… I want you for worse or for better. It’ll help defuse the tension since she’s upset with you. It’s sort of cute, and it’ll help lead into you telling her you like her.”

He nods in a more attentive way than he ever had in class. Your stomach twists – you could sabotage this whole thing, yet you weren’t. Hermione was your friend just as much as Ron was your best friend. You weren’t cruel. You just happened to like Ron more than she probably did.

“And then maybe you can add in something like: I would wait forever. To show your dedication.”

“Dedication? I’m not looking to marry her!”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what I meant! You’re just buttering her up, but you don’t have to say that if you don’t want to-”

“I’d only say that if I meant it.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes again. How romantic. You feel a pang in your heart at that thought… at least he wanted to confess to Hermione.

“Okay, well, you hurt her, right? Admit that you did, and say that you want to fix it.”

...

“We were best friends, Ron. You could’ve told me anything, hell, you almost bloody did!” You cross your arms, conflicted on whether to laugh or be annoyed with him. “You told me way too much sometimes.”

He doesn’t smile or laugh the way he might’ve at the suggestive joke when he was younger. Something seems to settle within him, and he pulls the towel off of his head. He takes a slight step forward, and you feel the tension settle between the two of you. You rarely saw Ron this serious, though it seems to be a more permanent emotion during and after the war.

“I broke your heart.”

Everything around you stills. Your own heart stills. That was one truth you had kept to yourself throughout all those years, throughout all of his relationships. So many little fragments over the years had gathered until, just about half a year ago, it had finally shattered and he had walked away from you. Your chest feels tight as you wonder who could have told him.

“I want to put it back together.” He swallows, his words trembling just the slightest bit. “I know now that I will wait forever.”

...

You're sitting in the Great Hall as Ron eats lunch while you work on your homework. You’re focused on a particular list of ingredients for a potion when Ron speaks. “That stuff you told me worked, by the way. Thanks.”

“Oh. With Hermione? Good.” You force yourself to sound happy, even looking up to smile at Ron across the table.

“She forgave me, sort of. I don’t think she understood what I was really trying to say.”

You sigh, rolling up your parchment and setting it aside. You’d get back to it later. “You’re back to being just friends?”

He nods, “I couldn’t just outright tell her! She’d probably think I was joking or something.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You lean across the table so you can lower your voice. “You could bring up the ways you’ve subtly flirted with her. There’s that picture we took where you’re staring at her. You wouldn’t let her see it, remember? You could show it to her.” You settle back into your seat, reaching to unroll your parchment again.

“How do I explain why I didn’t just show her then?”

You pull your quill out of your ink, already returning to writing down another ingredient. “Tell her you lost your mind.”

...

You remember sitting on the Common Room couch, when one of those fragments joined the many others. When Ron first started fully showing interest in Hermione and you knew you had no chance with him. No, Ronald Weasley wouldn’t show up at your door and suddenly confess to you, when he and Hermione had finally found their happy ending sometime during the battle at Hogwarts. He couldn’t be saying that.

“Ron… what are you saying? Is everything okay?” You want to feel his forehead, to see if his cold has already set in and he didn’t realize what he was saying. Your heart is hammering inside of your chest.

“Don’t you remember how it used to be? We were always alone.” His voice becomes steadier as he talks and he grows closer to you, his eyes brightening. “We spent so many nights together, talking on the Common Room couch. It was always just us at lunch. We even went on walks just to talk.”

“That’s because, usually, Hermione and Harry were busy. We didn’t have a choice-”

“I did. I didn’t know it then, but I always had a choice and I always made it.” He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a look you know you’ve never seen before. You had known Ron since first year, and you knew almost every look and what it meant. You didn’t know this one.

“I was such an idiot. I am such an idiot. You’ve been in front of me this whole time, and I didn’t see it.”

...

It’s one of the rare moments where you somehow end up alone with Harry. You’re sitting in the library, waiting for Ron and Hermione to show up so you can start your study session together. You already have your parchment and ink out, along with several books on the table. Harry’s setup mimics yours, and you’re both leaned over the table.

The two of you don’t talk much, you’re both connected by your friendship with Ron. While you’ve become friends with Hermione, you and Harry are still more like strangers.

The sound of footsteps approaching causes you to look up from your books. You knew it was Ron, you didn’t have to be looking to know it was him whenever he was near. What you didn’t expect was for Hermione to be walking next to him. They sometimes entered together, having run into each other or they had been previously hanging out. The part you didn’t expect was their intertwined hands, and the large grins on their faces. Their rosy cheeks.

It happened.

Harry looks up from across you, and his face immediately splits into a grin. He’s happy for his friends, and you should be too. You mimic his smile, trying to mask the way your heart feels like it’s breaking. Ron looks victorious, like he’s just won the final Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin. All you can feel welling up inside of you is defeat, because this is your fault. You could have just denied him the help, and maybe it’d be you holding his hand and smiling.

Would Harry even be smiling like that if it was you?

...

“I want you.”

Eight years. Ninety-six months. Four thousand, three hundred and eighty days. That’s about the time you had known Ron. You had spent more than half of that wanting him. You had spent the latter half of that knowing it was never going to happen.

Never had you expected that during your ninth year of friendship, he would tell you the thing you had wished for all that time. The thing you had hidden in journals or in daydreams you were ashamed of. You had spent years making up crushes and having Ron try to help you the way you helped with Hermione.

“But you- you and Hermione… I can’t-”

“Hermione and I broke up a while ago. She said she knew from the beginning that we wouldn’t last.” You wince at that, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s smiling down at you. “She said she knew who I would end up with.”

Oh.

“It’s been obvious this whole time, hasn’t it? That it was you?”

Oh.

“I mean, even Harry saw it. After ‘Mione and I split, we all had dinner and he told me that I was a blind idiot for not noticing sooner.” He laughs slightly, “he also made me realize how much I’ve hurt you over the years.”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve wished for this moment practically your whole life, and now that it’s here, you’re lost. In your mind, you would end up with someone your parents’ set you up with and you’d live your version of a mediocre happy ever after. You’d spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that Ron loved someone else and he had and would never love you.

You’re staring up at him. You had stared up at him so many times before, but never like this. Never with him confessing to you. Never with him smiling at you so tenderly and so happily. Never with so much affection.

Softly, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. You reach your hand up and rest it on his wrist. The two of you stay like that for a moment.

Your voice is quiet when you finally speak. “Do you mean it?”

His eyes never leave yours as he nods his head. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist. You want to weep into him but also scream with joy: you’ve never felt this happy.

You pull away slightly to look at him. “It’s always been you, Ron. For worse or for better. Slug puking or Quidditch winning. It’s you.”

He pulls you close again, his head resting on top of yours. You press your head to his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

It’s beating just as fast as yours.

...

You listen to the birds chirp as you walk down the street. It’s slightly windy, but the heat from the sun keeps whatever chill the wind carries away. There’s the faint smell of flowers coming from the flower vendor just down the street, next to the diner where you’re supposed to be grabbing lunch from.

You’re not very familiar with this part of town. It’s not near your flat, and you had to Apparate to get there.

You pull open the door to the diner, and a bell chimes to alert the people inside of your presence. Muggles. You smile slightly at the gesture, and make your way inside. You look around, before you spot a pair of brown hair and glasses.

Harry spots you first and his face breaks into a smile. At this, Hermione turns around and greets you with a smile too. Harry stands up out of the booth and pulls Ron, who has been holding your hand this whole entire time, into a hug. Hermione stands up and pulls you into a side hug. It’s a little awkward, but maybe you’ll get more comfortable with each other someday.

Everyone is smiling as you slide into the booth beside Hermione. She picks up the menu and hands it to you, “I have to recommend the cheeseburger…”

Word Count: 2270

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cjsmalley · 4 months

Text

Wished Away 8:

“Mom, Dad, help,” Dean said, holding a baby out.

A whirlwind of activity followed.

“He is Nephilim,” Castiel declared, having inspected the boy, “though I cannot tell his true parentage. It is being…hidden from me.”

The pediatricians took over as soon as the angel stepped back.

“Nephilim,” Danny said slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “isn’t that half-angel or something?”

“Precisely,” Castiel said just as slowly, measuring his words like they were his last rations, “They are…it is Forbidden for angels to lay with mortals. The creation of Nephilim is even more taboo as the first, the original, were monsters more often than not. It is an intentional act, to create Nephilim; the angelic parent must give a portion of their own Grace to the child during conception.”

“So they purposely knocked someone up then ding-dong ditched the kid,” Dean growled.

“Perhaps they heard that we are romantically involved, Dean,” Castiel offered, “and hoped we would take in the child as our own.”

“Well, of course we are,” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes at his angel who shook his head fondly, “I’ve already picked out a name too. A good human name.”

“Oh?”

“Jack, after Grandpa Jack. Unless, you have a name?”

“Perhaps…James, after James Novak?”

“Hmm…Jack James…James Jack…JJ…no, definitely Jack James. I like it, Cas.”

“Well, little Jack is healthy as far as we can tell,” Doctor Peterson joined the little huddle, “every scan we can perform came up normal, perfectly within range for his age group.”

Both Dean and Castiel visibly relaxed.

“We’ll get you set up,” Sam promised her son and might-as-well-be son-in-law.

A servant brought David’s old wrap and Sam showed Dean and Castiel how to wind it around their bodies to carry little Jack close to their hearts.

“Does the heart even beat?” Danny asked Castiel with interest, referring to his Vessel.

“Yes, I have kept all systems functioning as intended,” Castiel confirmed.

“Good. Because babies this young are used to heartbeats,” Danny explained as Sam worked with Dean, “they just spent nine months with their mom’s in their ears.”

“I see,” Castiel nodded, “well, Dean has assured me that I have a perfectly human sounding heartbeat.”

“What’s the likelihood that his mom was the human?” Danny asked next.

“Oh, quite likely…angels with female vessels most often shutdown the reproductive system. It would also be quite hard to hide the evidence of the gestating Nephilim. His mother likely died in childbirth; her body finally unable to handle his Angelic self.”

Danny winced; that would be a horrid way to die and he fried like a French fry.

Within hours, little Jack was all ready to go home.

Over the next few days, a room in the Bunker became a nursery and supplies loaded in.

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 1 year

Text

Fred Weasley x male! Reader - Fred Weasley is sure his family thinks his boyfriend is a lunatic

A/n: the reader lives in the usa, normally I wouldn't try and mention where the reader lives (I don't live in the us) but it felt better with this fic. Also we live for badass muggle readers, there will be many more to come!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting (physically), the reader having some mental health problems but it isn't touched upon further then you can read, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Being introduced to Fred's family as his muggle american boyfriend already makes you sound like some exotic animal to them. It probably won't help that you have another secret just waiting to come out...

The three P's:

[Pov: 2nd person] [Pronouns used: you/your, he/him] [Pairings: (romantic!) fred x reader, (platonic!) fred/reader x the order/weasley family, (mentioned romantic!) Hermione x ron, (mentioned parental! harry x sirius]

I do NOT support J. K. Rowling, or any transphobic/homophobic things she says (or anything she says really), or TERFS!

You stared up at the ceiling of the Grimwald place with your hands laid on to the sides without a care in the world, opposing the anxious feeling bubbling in your throat.

You closed your eyes as you heard the familiar whispers of the other members of the Weasley family and the "order" replaying in your mind; "A boyfriend, a muggle boyfriend? And an American!" You must have been something to gauk at.

They looked at you as if you were some strange enigma not a newly graduate from your public highschool that wasn't fancy, and no, did not have moving staircases.

Who the fuck would want staircases that moved and that someone could potentially fall down? It seemed like a major safety hazard to you. Though all of Hogwarts seemed like a violation of the welfare of children from all the bits that Fred had told you about, although you're sure your city was much worse.

Where you lived there was crime left and right, and so much of the police were corrupt that it was dangerous to walk at night without someone beside you in case you got jumped.

Damn it, you were not supposed to think about crime right now, because it would just make you more anxious and jumpy and it always sent your spider senses aloof. Yet all you could think about was your city, without it's hero - Spiderman, to protect it. You just prayed while you were away the villains decided to take a break too.

The door to your room opened and your body immediately stood up, triggering it's flight or fight response with your muscles tensing up and you mentally preparing yourself for a fight.

Only to see Fred Weasley, your boyfriend enter the room.

Holy hell, you really were going insane.

Letting out a sigh of relief you let yourself fall against Fred and let your head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Tired?"

"Hm."

"Was it my father asking relentless questions, or them thinking you were a friend, and me having to come out of the closet?"

You lift your head and smile lazily at his cheeky grin on his face as he teased you.

"Wouldn't you say wardrobe?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You Americans always butchering our way of speaking, it's wardrobe, and no. Saying "coming out of the wardrobe" sounds absolutely ridiculous."

You laugh at him and close your eyes, you let your worries about being in England and leaving your city unprotected slowly ebb away with Fred's presence. He always had that affect on you, calming you, letting your mind settle down from the endless ways that people could be dying and how you could be failing to save them.

Not that he knew of course.

When Fred was trying out a new product for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he had accidentally gotten teleported to your house in America. Well it was your aunt's house at the time but that was besides the point.

It scared the ever living shit out of you, and you nearly thought he was a super villain with immense powers. No, it was just some stupid boy who had been mistakenly apparated to your residency and who couldn't get back because he didn't have his wand on him when he did.

"Freddie- or whatever your name is, I have a feeling you're not in England anymore."

After introducing you to magic, he was stayed at your place for three months, because you had no way to buy him a plane ticket to London, as you were barely scraping by as is. And someone would have to show him the terrors of an airport and how to navigate (that person being you) meaning you would need two tickets.

Eventually he found a witch who would apparate him back, although he was hesitant. He didn't want to leave you.

Reasoning with him that his family probably thought he was dead (also considering he did tell you there was a war with some dark wizard named Morty?) So he did, not before he confessed to you and decided he would come see you every weekend.

Then every weekend, became every other day and every other day became every day after work.

He was with you through everything and had told you things about himself his twin didn't even know, insecurities not meant for the cruel world. He was there for you when aunt may died, and when your best friend did too.

Yet you couldn't tell him your secret, that you were Spiderman. That you went out every night and saved people from getting hurt - or worse. Maybe more simply put that you were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you superpowers (heighten senses, the ability to climb walls, webs, heightened intelligence, healing factor, spidey senses, super strength, super speed, super reflexes, superhuman durability, and immunity to wizard spells) and when your uncle died made you want to become a capped crusader without a cape that saved people?

Alright, perhaps that is a bit harder to explain.

Still you felt guilty that you hadn't told him, the two of you had been together for two years, he deserved to know.

"You alright there love?" Fred asked you as he ran a hand through your hair. "I seemed to have lost you there for a minute."

An American, muggle, boyfriend; man his family must have stared at you like a freak in a cage and you didn't notice.

"Fred I have to-"

You cut yourself off as your spidey sense started "tingling" more like blaring in your brain.

Quickly you pushed Fred to the left side of the room as a women in some weird sliver mask and black gown (that must not have been good for running after people in,) appeared out of some black smoke.

Emo much?

A spell whosed out of her wand as it hit the wall behind you two and you blankly wondered (not minding the danger) if she was in a cult.

It definitely wasn't one of yours that's for sure, usually they had better costumes.

"They've gotten passed our defenses!" A yell was heard from outside your secluded room and you couldn't be bothered to identify who it was before Fred casted some spell that made the women fall down straight like a board.

You could admire the irony in that.

Fred looked at you with confusion in his eyes. "How did you- It doesn't matter, you stay in here, okay? It's not safe out there."

Oh it was deatheaters, the people they were at war with. So you were right, it was a cult, to be fair it wasn't just any cult, it was the cult.

Fred quickly casts a spell under his breath over towards the lady now stiffed on the ground and closed to door on your face. As he locked it without even touching it.

You cursed, stupid magic, stupid people, stupid boyfriend, you had to get to them and help. You knew you could help because you were sure Wizards that hated anyone who wasn't "pure" and hated muggles didn't carry guns, making them incredibly useless. In addition to that wouldn't they not learn basic self defense because that would be below them or something?

So it would be mostly a saving-people-from-dying mission, you hated those.

"Because someone always ends up dying." A voice in the back of your mind speaks, way too happily when talking about death.

You slam the side of your body against the door as it flew off the hinges and you ran out to help the others. Whoops, hopefully you wouldn't have to pay for that.

You had the advantage of sneaking in, so you climbed up the walls so that you were sticking to the roof. It was strange climbing again in regular clothes, you usually did it in your spidey suit. It reminded you of when you were just starting out and freaking out about your powers, it nearly made you chuckle

Spotting Fred's twin - George (yes you could tell them apart it wasn't that hard) in a tough spot with two deatheaters cornering him you decided it was your time to jump into action before someone got hurt.

"Hey asshole!" You yelled at his perpetrators from the ceiling. "It's over, I have the high ground!"

Then you dropped from the ceiling on one of their faces.

The masked deatheater that you jumped on crumbled to the ground and hit their head on the floor and didn't make another noise. You didn't have time to check their pulse and make sure you didn't accidentally kill them as the other one sent a spell flying your way.

You giggled at their stunned expression when the spell did absolutely nothing to you.

"Ya, that isn't going to work buddy." You spoke confidentially before leaping towards them and punching them in the face.

"But may the force me with you!" You yelled as you threw your arm back to readying it for another punch.

You hit them just with the right amount of force, and just in the right place that they would get knocked out. You didn't want to do some brain damage or anything. You're sure there were some Wizard police or something that could take care of them, and they most likely would want to extract information from them too considering they were in war right now.

Okay two down, ten more to go? This is the best break ever!

Molly, Fred's mum was firing spell after spell at people, and didn't seem to need any help, and Sirius Black (escaped wrongly convicted?) was also just doing fine as he fought along side his godson. Harry Potter, the kid who the leader of the deatheater cult really wanted to kill because he couldn't kill a fucking baby. Although, he always waited at the end of the year to either try and kill him or apprehend him.

Well, at least Morty cared about the kid's education right?

You scanned your eyes around the room and they fell on Fred's youngest sister who was fighting along side Ron, and Hermione (who should really fuck already) and looked to be losing.

To be fair, three kids versus five adults? Didn't exactly seem fair to you.

You judo kicked one of them, before throat punching another, then knocking one on the jaw (you really hoped it wasn't broken,) while dodging some strikes coming your way.

"Here's Johnny!" You screamed.

Next you webbed the fourth cult member's arms and legs together, and finally you got the last one in a choke-hold cutting off their air supply before they fell to the ground on conscious.

You fought the remaining one off before having your short victory of them all being alive but unable to move or open their eyes.

"Bloody hell, I know, you're that superhero from America - Spiderman!" Ron exclaims.

Winking at him you let your spidey sense guide you to the next danger.

"I'm Batman." You grudge in your best Bruce Wayne impression possible before throwing your head back with laughter.

"Yes, it's Spiderman." You clarify, at their perplexed expressions and their wonderment of your sanity.

Suddenly your brain flared and you shot a web at Fred quicker than the speed of light and pulled him towards you with it as a spell that was bright green that sounded like "abracadabra" narrowly missed him.

You felt like you knew the spell, you feel like Fred had told you about it specifically- Oh. It was the killing curse.

That Bastard tried to murder your boyfriend.

Rage filled your veins that you hadn't felt since your uncle died, an old friend that come to greet you with a dagger in it's hands that had your name on it.

This was had to end now.

You took down the rest of the deatheaters swiftly even if the idiots had figured out you were immune to magic they were no match for you.

Then, some white light, smokey stuff came from out of nowhere and people stepped out of it. You almost go to attack them only to see that they didn't don the stupid all black gowns, nor the sliver cult masks with designs only children would call creepy.

Was this the rest of the order?

"The the fuck happened here." Some guy spoke with an mechanical eye, but not really mechanical eye? It just looked everywhere at any point? You were so confused honestly.

You're pretty sure the most emotion you've been feeling this entire time has been confusion.

"Sorry, did I step on your moment?" You question them with a toothy grin while your boyfriend marveled at you with a bright red blush covering his ears and cheeks.

"Merlin, that was so hot."

You throw your head back in laughter as George elbows Fred who continues to ogle at you.

"So you're not mad?" You ask him as your eyes flash with fear.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" He chuckles and comes forward to wrap an arm around your waist.

"Well I kinda didn't tell you and you told me about your wizard thingy..." You trail off, as your hands fidget with each other.

"As much as this is sweet-" The man with mechanical the eye starts up with a grumble.

"No, no, I want to see how this will play out." A women with pink hair smirks.

"Were you going to tell me eventually?" Fred continues.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Exactly, you just had to tell me in your own time."

You gaped at the man in front of you, you couldn't believe that this wizard is yours.

"I love you so much!" You threw your arms around Fred's neck.

"Mate!" Ron piped up. "Fred's boyfriend just annihilated a bunch of deatheaters like they were flies! How is hugging him now?!"

Fred just ignores his brother as he places a kiss on your brow.

"I love you too, you crazy spider."

Bonus 1:

"I think my family is terrified of you now." Fred whispers in your ear as you glance over Ron who's shaking slightly as he leans over to Hermione and mutters something to her along the lines of; "He took down twelve deatheaters! Of course I'm scared!"

"That's what Ron's telling Hermione right now."

Fred stares at you, an astonished look appearing over his freckles.

"You can hear them, from here!"

"It's called super hearing babe."

"I know you, already explained your powers to me! But you willingly listened in on them!"

You bashfully turned your head. "I was just curious!"

"Who are you, and what have you done with Y/n!"

"You caught me! I'm Bond, James Bond."

Bonus 2:

"You know Morty and his deatheaters should really learn self defense." You state with your arms crossed around your chest. "I'm seriously concerned about their physical well beings!"

Fred looked over at you as his face split into a grin and his belly filled with uncontrollable laughter.

"Did you just call Voldemort, Morty!"

"That isn't his name?"

Words 2511

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Hp Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux

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