#post second wizarding war

[dreamcubed]

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

#draco malfoy #draco #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #self insert #muggle reader #angst #fluff and angst #forbidden love #forbidden romance #post second wizarding war #hp #harry potter #hp oneshot #hp fanfic #harry potter oneshot #draco oneshot #draco malfoy oneshot

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Contempt by danpuff Pairing: Harry/Severus Rating: E Word Count: 20k Podfic available here Read by: MrVillain Length: 2-3 hours Harry hates Snape, and he always will. (He will, won’t he?)

find the full podfic library here

#snarry #snarry fic rec #snarry podfic #snarry podfic rec #harry/severus #harry/snape #snape/harry #severus snape #rating: e #10 to 25k words #post second wizarding war #post hogwarts #enemies to lovers #get together #smut #angst #love/hate relationship #theme: obsession #hp podfic #hp podfic rec #mlm ship

[badmoonriiising]

Post-war Draco struggles to find himself in a wizarding world that's constantly rejecting him. He copes by listening to muggle music, becoming quickly obsessed with late 90s hard rock, and letting his anger go playing the drums.

A couple of years later, Harry struggles to fulfill the expectations everyone has while trying to discover what he wants in life. He copes with regular visits to nightclubs in muggle London. One night he gets awestruck seeing a heavy metal band play live, because their drummer is someone he's known for a very long time.

And of course, the ability of Draco Malfoy to mess with Harry Potter's mind is not gone. The only difference this time is that it involves lots of cool music, eyeliner, attractive piercings, and past issues to solve in the path to find themselves.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #rock music #metal #post second wizarding war #drummer draco #drarry microfic

[insomniaruler]

I want more golden trio content listen I adore the Marauders. but what’s more of a fuck you to the TERF is to take her canon characters and trans their genders, make them diverse, disabled, give soft headcanons to, and let rely on each other

Give me

Jewish/Desi Harry

Islamic Ron

Black Hermione

Or

Dyslexic Ron

Hermione with chronic pain from Bellatrix

Autistic Harry

Or

Trans Hermione

And he/they Demisexual Ron

walking Bisexual disaster Harry

Or

Hermione enchanting a mug to always keep tea warm

Harry sneaking out and getting sweets for parties

Ron knitting gifts for his friends/family

Or

Hermione being Harry’s Best Woman because Ron was in Ginny’s party

Hermione breaking down after Malfoy Manner and getting comforted by her chosen brothers

The Trio being roommates post war and comforting each other after nightmares

There is so much we could make to say fuck you to The TERF.

Anyway I adore Platonic Soulmates Ron, Harry and Hermione

#golden trio headcanons #ron weasley #Hermione Granger #Harry Potter #fuck jkr #post second wizarding war #second wizarding war #hinny wedding #ron Harry and Hermione are platonic soulmates

[dewitty1]

House Proud

astolat @astolat

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Kreacher (Harry Potter), Horace Slughorn Additional Tags: Post-War, EWE, Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor Series: Part 3 of Harry Potter works, Part 9 of Astolat Sampler

Summary:

His house liked Draco Malfoy more than him.

Excerpt:

“I don’t think this room’s been open in half a century,” Draco said softly. It looked nearly forty feet long.

“I’ll have to have a party,” Harry said, equally hushed. “A real one, this time,” he added, glancing up at the ceiling apologetically. He looked at Draco. “You know the right dances, don’t you? The old ones,” thinking of the Yule Ball, later in the evening when he and most of the Gryffindors had come off the floor and the music had changed. He’d been occupied with mooning after Cho, but he’d seen out of the corner of his eye Draco leading Pansy out into a dance with only the ghosts and the most snooty of the Slytherins joining them. Something elaborate and complicated and sharp that left any dancers who made a mistake looking stupid and clumsy. One by one they’d slunk from the floor red-faced, but Draco hadn’t missed a step, whirling Pansy expertly through the line, and for a moment, poised together perfectly as the music had ended, they’d looked radiant, dazzling, and Harry had—he’d looked away.

“Yes,” Draco said, and turned to him, offering his hand.

Harry stared at him, and slowly reached out his own. He wanted to feel stupid, letting Draco lead him out onto the ballroom floor, but he didn’t. There wasn’t any music but the sound of their footsteps on the floor, the click of Draco’s shoes and his own painfully wrong trainers. Draco moved him into position, standing side to side facing opposite ways, their hands together from palm to elbow. He said, “You don’t know the dance, so you have to follow. That means there’s nothing else for you to pay attention to, just me. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded and looked into his eyes, letting the cool grey trap of them close on him, and when Draco moved, he moved. A step backward, and then forward again, movements barely telegraphed by the slight pressure of a finger, the shift of his arm. A full circle paced around one another, then both of them whirling to meet with the other hand, going the opposite way, and the circle paced round again. It got easier with every step. Thought was sliding away, a faint music starting distantly, almost like a ringing in his ears. They were moving together, the walls of the ballroom beginning to blur around them.

Harry’s trainers kept annoying him—not enough to make him step wrong, because he didn’t look away from Draco, didn’t let them distract him that much, but he wanted to be wearing something else, and then between one step and another, he was, boot heels clicking on the floor. Draco’s eyes glittered with satisfaction and he moved in closer: his hand going across the body to the far side of Harry’s waist now, drawing Harry’s hand to his own, their bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, and he started moving them faster, steps growing more intricate. The music wasn’t just in Harry’s head anymore: it was playing ghostly from the balcony, their footsteps striking the rhythm as Draco started them on matched whirling turns down the whole length of the ballroom. Harry didn’t hesitate, the long skirts of formal dress robes unfurling round him as he whipped along, breathless and nothing like dizzy at all as they landed back in each other’s hands at the other end.

They went on even faster, moving as seamlessly as if they weren’t separate at all. Harry did know the steps, suddenly, as if Draco was giving him the whole dance and not just a lead, and it was just as well because it was almost impossible to keep up anymore. And then it was impossible, and they did it anyway, the whole world somehow slowing down around them so they could manage the pace. A final furious interweaving of steps and movements, changing places thirty times with dust motes glittering suspended in the air, spiraling away and flying back in to one another in a last almost deadly move, moving so fast as the world sped back up that they would have hurt each other if either one of them had so much as put a finger wrong.

They finished standing underneath the chandelier pressed chest to chest, Draco in his arms and Draco’s hand perfect in the small of his back, a rush of completion like a small explosion right there at the base of his spine, running straight up to his brain, fireworks going off. Harry didn’t even hesitate as he slid his hand up to the back of Draco’s neck and pulled his head down.

Draco kissed him back ferociously, his mouth full of sharp edges and danger. Harry just pulled him in closer, something wild and terrible in him shuddering fully awake, hungry for it when Draco bit at him, when Draco’s hands tightened painfully on his arms. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted to pull Draco to the floor and—no, that wasn’t right; he wanted to take Draco upstairs, he wanted to spread Draco out in his own bed, where he belonged—

꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱♡

#House Proud #Astolat #Drarry #Drarry Fic Rec #Fic Rec #Hp Fic Rec #Harry Potter Fic Rec #Drarry Fanfiction #Harry Potter Fanfiction #Hp Fanfic #Drarry Fanfic #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Sentient Houses #Sentient Grimmauld Place #Post Second Wizarding War #Carey's Bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal Bookmarks #hp

[xxlittle0birdxx]

'It was nice to meet you, Ginny.'

'You, too. You're not at all what I thought you'd be like.'

Harry retrieved his bag from the joke shop. 'Like what?'

'Oh. You know. A conceited ass who expects everyone to treat him like he's found a cure for spattergoit.'

Harry stared at her for a moment, then bent over, wheezing with laughter. 'You're probably the first person I've met in Britain that doesn't give a damn about who I am.'

'Huh.' Ginny smirked at him. 'That must be a new and exciting sensation for you.'

'It kind of is.'

#harry potter #ginny weasley #dean thomas #harry/ginny #hinny #hinny fanfic #notting hill au #inspired by notting hill #neville longbottom #neville as the chosen one #american harry potter #remus and sirius raised harry #post second wizarding war #quidditch player harry #retired quidditch player ginny #weasley's wizarding wheezes #joke shop

[catsp1racy]

Fic recs #47: Kept in Cages

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40306215/chapters/100960383

#drarry #slow burn #getting together #slight body image issues #depressed harry potter #magical creatures #magizoology #post second wizarding war

[uncertainwallflower]

So this is the opening paragraph to a very old WIP that I've never finished/published but kinda wanna get back into and start publishing...

#golden trio era #post second wizarding war #harry potter #fanfic #old wip #hp

[harryissuchalittleshit]

Apples (or not everyone believes in fairytales)

Summary:

Fairytales are for children who's grandparents didn't have numbers forced into their arms and stars sewn into their clothes. Fairytales are for children who don't see war growing in their school. Fairytales are for children who aren't different and have always been different.

Anthony Goldstein doesn't believe in fairytales, they're not the stories his grandparents told him growing up. They taught him about the war they survived, and he doesn't realize until too late that it's the same war he'll survive. Anthony doesn't believe in fairytales, but he does believe in people and listening to stories and apples.

No matter how sour they may be.

In honor of Rosh Hashanah, I like to share this story I wrote about Anthony Goldstein. I know I’m a few days late, but to this day, this is probably one of the most important stories I’ve written.

Ao3

#harry potter #head canons #my fics #anthony goldstein #Ravenclaw stories #rosh hashanah #Jewish character study #lgbtq character study #post second wizarding war

[alkos]

Then and Now

17-year-old Slytherin prodigy Vi had a few secrets. He found love, and then he lost it, and he wasn't able to tell anybody about it. Grief was a battle he had to fight in silence. Nothing was fair, and nothing made sense, except maybe the guitar Cedric gave him for his birthday.

23-year-old musician Vi finds himself traveling the world for "inspiration" after his agent decides his hiatus is wrecking his career. He is not expecting Romania to be his last stop, nor is he expecting nearly being torched alive by a Hungarian Horntail to be the best thing that will ever happen to him.

This fic covers Vi (original character) in both his Hogwarts and post-Hogwarts years simultaneously. It explores a parallel between two of his life's most impactful relationships and the growth that happened in between. Also... more Charlie Weasley content. The author needed it. Read on Ao3 Read on Wattpad I’m trying to get back into writing fic since high school and unfortunately Wattpad keeps pushing my old (very bad) fics I wrote when I was 14 because their algorithm sucks, so I would appreciate any reblogs/reads y’all can spare. I love y’all. Enjoy!

#ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 fic #hp fic fest #hp fic #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #cedric diggory #charlie weasley fic #cedric diggory fic #charlie weasley fanfic #cedric diggory fanfic #lgbt fanfic #queer wizards #post second wizarding war #autistic charlie weasley #bisexual cedric diggory #charlie weasley infodumps about dragons as a method of flirting #cedric diggory oblivious and in love with his herbology partner #two bros chillin in a herbology class five feet apart cause they're helpless #fanfiction #fanfic #charlie weasley x oc #cedric diggory x oc

[wolfstarshipping]

Remember Me? (4146 words) by moonage___daydream Rating: General Audiences Summary: When Sirius Black was arrested in 1981 the dementors took everything from him. His life, his freedom, and every good memory he had ever clung to. Finally free, he arrives on the doorstep of Remus Lupin, only just remembering his name.

Comment: This was just so heartbreaking and beautiful, just the perfect amount of angst! I loved Remus and Sirius slowly trying to find a way to connect again.

#remember me? #moonage___daydream #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus lupin #sirius black #fic rec #angst #post azkaban #AU #second wizarding war #amnesia #memory loss #hurt/comfort

[damsel-in-mistress]

dramione drabble - 328 words

Terrible Angel

by damsel_in_mistress (ao3)

Setting: second wizarding war, post-Hogwarts

He stares into the jagged piece of a mirror amidst the rubble, cracks pulling across the dulled surface like a spider’s web, and all that’s alive in the unmoving reflection is a pair of silvery eyes, ablaze with the feverish intensity of hunger.

#dramione drabble #draco malfoy angst #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dramione #dramione fanfiction #dhr #dhr drabble #dhr fanfiction #dhr fandom #dramione fandom #second wizarding war #post hogwarts #death eater draco #forbidden relationship #forbidden fruit #pov draco #charlie hunnam is my grown up draco malfoy #dramione ao3 #ao3 dramione #draco drabble #dark drabble #damselsdramione

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Coffee by Writcraft Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: E Word Count: 5k Podfic available here Read by: fire_juggler Length: 30-60 minutes Sometimes it’s just a story about two wizards and a Muggle coffee shop.

find the full podfic library here

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry podfic rec #drarry podfic #harry/draco #draco/harry #hp fic rec #hp podfic #hp podfic rec #5 to 10k words #rating: e #smut #coffee shop au #post hogwarts #post second wizarding war #get together #enemies to friends to lovers #humor #muggle life #mlm ship #personal favorite

[carewyncromwell]

“Now is the time to seize the day. Stare down the odds and seize the day. Once we've begun, if we stand as one, Someday becomes somehow, And the prayer becomes a vow, And the strike starts right damn now!”

~“Seize the Day” from Newsies (musical)

x~x~x~x

referencing a code later used by the Phoenix Resistance @kathrynalicemc​

x~x~x~x

On June 19, 1996, Hogsmeade village was notably quiet. No one seemed to have the heart to do any shopping after the blockbuster Evening Prophet reporting the true state of affairs, and truly, none of the Flumes had much heart to push their wares that day either. Mia had never seen her parents looking so pale and withdrawn in her life -- all she could do was quietly mix up some spiced hot chocolate for them, in an attempt to bring some color back to their cheeks.

Mia wrote dozens of letters over the course of the next week. Most of them were to Florean -- they’d mutually agreed to write to each other every morning and evening, just to “check in” and make sure the other was safe both before going about their day and going to bed.

Dad “forgot himself” again today. Fortunately he was back to himself in a few hours, after sitting with Mum and me on the couch listening to Callie’s broadcast on WWN. He said hearing Callie’s usual sign-off -- “Until next time, keep your head up, a smile on, and your hand on that dial” -- helped bring him back to earth.

Diagon Alley was very gray today here as well. I can hardly recall a time when my neighbors looked upon me with so much distrust. But then again, even during the First War, the Ministry merely tried to urge calm, not actively promote disinformation. It’s hardly a wonder that people don’t know who they can trust now...

Mail-order sales of chocolate have been skyrocketing lately. I suppose people want something sweet to distract themselves from everything, even if they still feel too unsafe to come into shop themselves.

Your old “friend” Jacob Cromwell stopped into my shop today for some chocolate chip ice cream. I know you dislike the man, but truly, he seems to have really grown up since you knew him at school. He even suggested I could use Muggle glow-in-the-dark ink to write letters in, if I was afraid about my letters getting read by the wrong people.

The other person Mia received lots of letters from, though, was Olin. With the removal of Umbridge, his mail wasn’t being actively watched anymore, and Olin took full advantage of it, writing more emotionally charged letters than ever to his aunt.

Dumbledore came back as Headmaster today! Oh, Aunt Mia, I’ve never been more happy to see him in all my life!

That rotten toad Umbridge has been stuck in the Hospital Wing for the last few days, supposedly in a state of shock after a confrontation with the Forbidden Forest‘s centaur herd. Given her disgusting attitude toward “half-breeds,” I’d be tempted to say she had it coming, if it weren’t for how much I know Mum wouldn’t approve of me saying so.

First of all, to reassure both you and Mum, no, Dumbledore’s Army was not an actual army. (How anyone could really think that is beyond me!) It was an organization Potter and his friends made so that we could really learn how to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts, since Umbridge wouldn’t teach us anything useful in class. “Dumbledore’s Army” is just the name Ginny Weasley suggested for us, kind of as a backhanded joke against old Minister Fudging-the-Truth. We never thought Dumbledore would use it as an excuse to shield Potter from getting expelled or arrested!

As for Umbridge’s quills...yeah, it’s true. Please don’t tell Mum and Dad, though -- I don’t want to upset them.

Aunt Mia, I hate to ask this, but could you send along some murtlap essence, with your next package? My hand is still hurting from the last detention I had with Umbridge, but I really don’t want to worry Mum and Dad.

I’ve always loved school, but...Merlin, the end of this term truly can’t come soon enough! Not being able to talk with you openly, or talk to Mum, Dad, and Skylar...it’s been so hard.

It was this sentiment especially that worried Mia. Sure, with Umbridge gone, Olin wouldn’t have anyone actively censoring his mail at Hogwarts anymore...but like or not, anything they tried to send each other could still be intercepted. This was made all the more clear to Mia when Callie fumed to her later that week about one of her WWN broadcasts being halted before it could make it to the airwaves.

“I sent in a report about Brockton Bridge being blown up specifically to try to warn the public, but our oh-so-wise Ministry leaders apparently decided that it’d be best not to discuss it until they could put out a proper press release about it!” Callie said heatedly. “‘Proper press release,’ my foot -- they just wanted to protect their own image by making it look like they’re doing something -- ”

In the past, Mia might’ve tried to defend such a decision with the justification that the Ministry didn’t want the rest of the Wizarding World to panic. Now, all the knowledge did was make her angrier and more worried than ever.

She needed a way to make sure any more sensitive messages she might send would get through, to the people she cared about. But how?

Mia contemplated this matter for a long time while mixing some murlap essence into the Cauldron Cake batter she was working on for Olin. Sampling it off the mixing spoon, she frowned and added in a cup of milk and some sugar. 

Florean had brought up glow-in-the-dark ink in his letter -- admittedly because of an interaction with Jacob Cromwell, Mia remembered sourly. Even so, though, the idea of hiding a secret message inside a fake one sparked an idea in her, all the same.

It’s a lot like these Cauldron Cakes, she thought, glancing down at the cakes she was making. They look just like ordinary, delicious Cakes on the outside -- but in truth, they’re mixed in with murtlap essence, to promote quick healing alongside the invigorating benefits inherit to chocolate.

Some gears started turning in Mia’s brain as she considered the Cauldron Cake molds she’d left beside her on the counter. Then, very slowly, her mouth curled up in a broad smile, and she summoned a new mixing bowl, partitioning out some of her batter so that she could then change it a bright shade of red with a flick of her wand.

When Olin unwrapped his aunt Mia’s package of eight Murtlap-Essence-spiked Cauldron Cakes the following, he was startled to find -- when he bit into each one -- a word, or fragment of a word, hidden inside each one in bright red letters.

See. You. At. Hogs. Meade. Sta. Tion. Mia.

And that was how Hermia Flume started hiding messages in custom-baked treats.

~*~

Mia didn’t think about Jacob Cromwell’s out-of-place “gift” again until her father actually came across it one evening, while stuck in dog form. He’d been trying to reach a glass jar of peanut butter brittle on the kitchen counter when he’d knocked the book over, only to decide to pick it up and dutifully carry it over to his wife in his mouth when Jenie caught Ambrosius in the act.

“I reckon he thought to apologize to me, for trying to eat something he shouldn’t,” Jenie said through a faintly miffed smile as she shot Ambrosius a significant look.

The gray-and-brown whippet merely bowed his head, wagging his tail lightly. With a sigh, Jenie handed the book back to Mia.

“Anyhow, best get that back on your shelf before your father decides to tear it up...”

Reluctantly Mia took the book and headed on upstairs to bed. Feeling too restless to sleep, she instead collapsed down onto the bed, idly rifling through the pages of the pretty blue-covered book.

DEMETRIUS

O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?

Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

HERMIA

Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse,

For thou (I fear) hast given me cause to curse.

Mia gave a faintly irritable sniff, recalling Jacob’s pointed words while giving the book to her.

“I would hope you’d have seen this on stage, given your name...”

Mia had in fact not seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream on stage. How could she, when it was a Muggle play that would have no reason to be put on at Hogwarts, or the Three Broomsticks, or anywhere else within walking or Floo distance of her home in Hogsmeade village?

I’m not the sort to abandon my family for a night, just to go see a play, Mia thought resentfully.

That resentment was curdling into something much more like envy, though, despite herself. Stamping that feeling dead before she could dwell on it too long, Mia made as it to close the book.

It was as she flipped through the pages, though, that she suddenly noticed a faint glow peeking out from under them.

Blinking in surprise, Mia quickly brought up a hand and brushed the pages aside. Etched into the inside front cover was a cluster of strange letters scrawled in shiny ink, framed by a messy half-circle --

Mia’s eyes widened.

Glow-in-the-dark ink! Muggle glow-in-the-dark ink!

Of course -- she’d used a Revealing Charm before, but that was designed to reveal messages hidden by magical means. That was probably why Jacob had suggested glow-in-the-dark ink to Florean that one time -- because a non-magical method of hiding a message wouldn’t be so easy to crack!

Mia hated to admit it...but Jacob Cromwell really was brilliant.

The chocolatier stared down at the letters for a long while, trying to make sense of them. She tried to find some pattern to them, but there wasn’t one that she could easily see. They certainly didn’t seem to be an anagram for anything...

Thinking to check this, she got out of bed and headed over toward her desk next to the window so she could take out some spare parchment and a quill. She then wrote the letters down on the parchment and set about trying to rearrange the letters into something decipherable, but sure enough, it wasn’t an anagram.

Undeterred, Mia tried out to find a correlation between the letters on the page and page numbers in the book. But if there was a key anywhere in the text, she couldn’t seem to pinpoint it. Before Mia knew it, it was morning, and she was forced to work an entire shift at Honeydukes after not sleeping a wink.

The following night, Mia sent a note to Florean asking if he knew any codes she could try. He suggested the Caesar cypher, which the famous Roman emperor had apparently used to send covert military messages. Unfortunately, even after shifting the alphabet backwards and forwards multiple ways, she still couldn’t seem to crack it. Feeling at a loss, Mia sent a note to Callie, asking for her advice, before setting about skimming through a book of codes Florean had sent to help her.

The following day, Mia received Callie’s response.

Mia,

Why didn’t you TELL me Jacob had given you something?! Merlin, Mia! If I’d known he was sending you messages too, I would’ve come clean about him AGES ago!

Oh, Merlin, just forget it! You really are impossible! Anyway...

Yes, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, Jacob was the one who told me about Umbridge using a cursed quill on Potter. He sent it to me in a coded message he’d Transfigured into a record, so as to avoid prying eyes. I forget the name of the code he used -- I think it’s something Transposition? Whatever it’s called, it involves writing out a word; writing numbers under each one that correlate to the order they fall in, in the alphabet; and then writing out the letters you’ve been given under each number based on that order. He doesn’t always use the same word each time, though -- the last word he gave me was “Hogwarts.” Maybe you should try that!

Mia...I am sorry I didn’t tell you about Jacob being my informant -- but with how hostile you’ve always been toward him, you can hardly blame me for not wanting to tell you. I doubt you would’ve believed a word he said, if I’d told you...and well, he did turn out to be right after all, didn’t he?

I know you hate him, but...please, if you find out what Jacob was trying to tell you, just hear him out.

Love you,

Callie

Mia read and reread Callie’s letter several times, her frown creasing her features a bit more each time.

‘Something Transposition...’

“Accio,” she said, waving her wand toward her bed.

Summoning the book of codes Florean had sent her into her lap, Mia cracked it open and brushed through the index. When she did, she found something very promising --

Myszkowski Transposition Cipher.

Flipping through the page in question, she read up on it.

The Myszkowski Transposition Cipher is a variant of Columnar Transposition in the way it deals with recurring letters in the keyword. It was proposed by Émile Victor Théodore Myszkowski in 1902.

The same methodology as for Columnar Transposition is used, where the plaintext is written out in rows under the keyword. The only difference is that when there are repeated letters in the keyword, rather than number them from left to right, all letters must receive the same number. One would then read across columns which have the same number in the keyword.  

Start by writing out the keyword, and the alphabetical order of the letters, remembering to give repeated letters the same number. Next, divide the length of the ciphertext by the length of the keyword to work out how many rows you need to add to our grid. Then insert the ciphertext back into the grid. Start at number 1, and continue to the highest number. If the number only appears once, fill down the column. If the number appears twice, move from left to right across the columns with that number heading them.

The description matched Callie’s explanation -- this must’ve been the code Jacob had used!

But if it is, what’s the keyword I need to read the coded message?! Mia thought irritably. Damn it, Cromwell -- you put a code in this book, and then you make it bloody impossible to crack it!

With a loud, aggravated sigh, she glared down at the inside cover of A Midsummer Night’s Dream again. She moodily poked at the letters etched into it with her wand, trailing it along the half circle at the bottom.

There’s got to be some sort of clue about the word somewhere, she thought stubbornly. Could it be part of the title? ‘Dream?’ Perhaps ‘Night?’ These markings only appear at night...

It was as Mia trailed her wand along the half circle at the bottom that something clicked in her brain.

This wand movement... she realized. It’s just like the one for Reparifarge -- the untransfiguration spell!

Callie had said Jacob had transfigured his coded message to her into a record. Was this book actually -- !?

Feeling a strange burst of energy she could hardly explain, Mia pointed her wand right at the book.

“Reparifarge!”

In an instant, the book was tossed up into the air with a flash. It snapped shut, dropping back to the desk with an odd thunk -- more like a wooden box, rather than a book.

Her brows knitting together, Mia tried to open the book...and instead found that it was a faux book, with a folded letter inside its interior chamber.

Deliver the message to Hogwarts as soon as you can. Send it to the proper recipient through a third party, if you have to -- I believe you have at least one.

The word needed to unlock the message is “Phoenix.” C can explain the proper method to you.

If you want any more book recommendations in the future, I’ll pass them along.

JC

Mia’s heart was pounding against her chest. Pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, she sketched out a grid and immediately set to work on the code --

P H O E N I X

6 2 5 1 4 3 7

T E L L P O T

T E R T O N O

T G O T O H A

L L O F P R O

P H E C I E S

Mia's heart stopped.

“Tell Potter to not go to Hall of Prophecies.”

~*~

The following day Mia sent an owl to Callie, telling her to tell Jacob that she needed to talk to him about his “book recommendation.” She was not expecting him to show up to Honeydukes within the hour, looking faintly disheveled as ever in his ripped jeans and birkenstocks.

“You knew,” she confronted him as soon as he walked through the door.

Jacob offered her a cheesy grin.

“Not to brag or anything,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I know a lot of things...”

Seeing the lack of amusement in Mia’s face, Jacob immediately turned serious.

“Let’s talk somewhere more private,” he said under his breath. “I’m not the only one who thinks your chocolate’s incredible.”

He glanced significantly over at the witch wearing the balaclava in the corner, who immediately looked away so as to not be caught eavesdropping. This time, though, Mia wasn’t sure it was just for the potential gossip material -- with the truth of the Dark Lord’s return coming to light, everyone suddenly seemed more suspicious...

Mia pursed her lips, but nonetheless gave a clipped nod.

“Come on.”

She led Jacob up the stairs and then up a ladder into her family’s flat above the shop. Once she’d closed the trapdoor securely behind her, Jacob pointed the left of his two wands at it.

“Muffliato.”

A puff of light yellow light burst from Jacob’s wand, dissolving away like smoke into the wood.

“There,” he said. “Now we shouldn’t be overheard.”

He turned to Mia as he slid the wand back into his left pocket. “I suppose you got my message, then? Surprised it took you so long...”

“Well, I didn’t exactly know that you were my sister’s ‘secret informant,’” Mia said accusingly.

“Hey, I didn’t tell your sister not to tell you!” said Jacob defensively.

He strolled over to the window so he could look out, his hand sliding halfway into his pocket as he went.

“Not that I’m not touched she thought to keep my secret, mind you -- I wasn’t exactly following Dumbledore’s orders, when I leaked that stuff...”

“Dumbledore?” Mia recurred, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Wait -- so that’s where you got your information from? You were working with Dumbledore?”

“Somewhat reluctantly,” Jacob confirmed with an airy sigh. “But as much as I hate to admit it, that shady old geezer is the only person who could stand toe to toe magically with the likes of Voldemort.”

The sound of the Dark Lord’s name made Mia flinch.

“Don’t say that name,” she said tersely.

Jacob raised an eyebrow as he considered Mia through the glass.

“What? Voldemort?”

Mia flinched again, glaring at him. Jacob, however, merely crossed his arms as he turned back around to face her.

“It’s just a name -- nothing more,” he said simply. “No more than Bob, or Jane, or Rick, or Sandy.”

“No one named Bob, Jane, Rick, or Sandy has slaughtered hundreds of people and threatens to kill even more,” Mia shot back.

“No, but I reckon old Moldy Shorts had a name just as plain and unremarkable too, before he set about terrorizing people,” Jacob said coolly. “And as much as I’ll respect anyone who prefers to be called something other than their birth name, his name is still just that -- something to be called. If he didn’t want anyone to call him Voldemort -- ” Mia tried to fight back another flinch, “ -- then I’m sure we’d still be calling him Ike or Joe or whatever the hell he was before.”

“It’s not about what he wants,” spat Mia. She was fine with Florean using the Dark Lord’s name, but he at least did it sparingly -- Jacob’s flippant repetition, as well as his open mockery of the most dangerous Dark Wizard in the world, was grating on her. “People are afraid of him and his name...so stop being such an insensitive clod and respect other people’s feelings, for once!”

Jacob frowned, looking faintly bewildered. He couldn’t conjure up a proper response before Mia railroaded him.

“Why did you give the message to me? Why not just leak it to Callie, like you did before?”

“Because Callie isn’t working in Hogsmeade village, favorite gathering spot of both the Hogwarts school staff and its students,” Jacob said plainly. “I figured you’d be much more able to sneak a message into the school itself than Callie could -- if nothing else, I gather your nephew and you are close, and he was one of those rounded up with Potter as part of Dumbledore’s Army. I just thought we’d have more time to get the message to Potter...until the end of term, at least. I mean, it took me years before I was able to use my Legilimency to connect to someone mentally inside Hogwarts’s walls...and the only reason I was able to do it was because it was my sister’s mind I’d connected to. Plus she had strong Legilimency as well. And even then, I could only keep contact with her for a very short amount of time...”

Mia did not know what Jacob was talking about. Rather than going down that rabbit hole of questions, though, she decided to stay on topic.

“But how did you know that Potter would try to go to the Hall of Prophecies?” she demanded.

Jacob’s arms tightened a bit around his chest as he once again turned to the window, his eyes drifting away up toward the cloudy sky.

“Because it’s what Voldemort -- sorry,” he added quickly, upon noticing Mia flinch again, “it’s what that mad bloke wanted Potter to do. Only he or Potter could’ve fetched what he wanted down there...and regardless of how valuable it might’ve really been in the end, old Voldie saw value in it...and he was ready to do just about anything, to get it.”

Jacob’s jaw clenched, making his expression that bit more righteously angry.

“That’s why Dumbledore, and the people he’s recruited to help him, worked so hard to try to protect it, this last year.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “...So that’s how you knew what was happening in the Ministry? You were helping Dumbledore guard whatever You-Know-Who was looking for, down in the Department of Mysteries?”

Jacob nodded. “Pip -- my little sister, I mean, Carewyn -- was able to keep me out of trouble a lot of the time I was down there. She works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you see. We used to touch base with our Legilimency throughout my ‘shifts,’ so that she’d know I was okay. After what happened to Sturgis and Bode, we couldn’t be too careful...”

Mia’s ears perked up. “Sturgis Podmore, you mean? The man who got caught sneaking into a secret room at the Ministry?”

“The man who got caught while trying to break into the Department of Mysteries under the Imperius Curse,” Jacob corrected grimly. “Just like Broderick Bode was, not long after. Lucius Malfoy’s doing, most likely -- at least, in the first’s case. The second’s, I’m not sure, though Pip said something about Rookwood once being an Unspeakable...maybe it was his idea...”

“But Dumbledore expelled you,” Mia pressed him, forcefully rerouting their conversation to where it had been, rather than letting Jacob get too off-track. “Sure, he let you take your NEWTs later, but he still expelled you. Why would he want you to join him? Why would you choose to join him, when you clearly don’t like him yourself? Why would you believe him, when almost nobody else did?”

“Why wouldn’t I believe him?” said Jacob.

His gaze drifted up onto the sky outside the glass.

“Dumbledore and I might not see eye to eye on a lot of things,” he murmured, his voice very serious despite the marked detachment in his eyes. “Quite frankly I think it’s disgusting, how he seems to think he’s in any place to make life-altering choices that affect so many people without their consent or knowledge. That’s why I wanted to tell Potter not to go to the Ministry -- because I know first-hand how hard it is to make good choices, if you don’t know what people want from you. But as soon as he said Voldemort -- sorry -- that old loser was back, I knew he was telling the truth. For all of his machinations and concerns about ‘the greater good’ over individual lives...Dumbledore would never lie, about something like this. And if old Morty was really back...well, I’m old enough to fight him this time. May as well.”

Mia was left stunned. Was this really Jacob Cromwell -- stupid, cheerful, arrogant, airhead scholar Jacob Cromwell -- talking about going off to War against the greatest Dark wizard of all time with such conviction in his voice?

“You...you really mean that when you dropped everything to return to London last year,” she said slowly, “it wasn’t just to reconnect with your family, like you told Rosmerta...it was because of this? Because you immediately knew that the Ministry of Magic had to be lying to all of us, and that You-Know-Who had to really be back?”

Was this berk really that brilliant that he could see through it all, right away? Even though this is someone stupid enough to think the best way to get me to help him smuggle a message into Hogwarts was shoving a Transfigured book into my hands and walking away?

Jacob shrugged. “Well, sure. I couldn’t leave my Pip and Mum to deal with all this on their own. I reckon you’d do the same thing, if you’d been in my shoes.”

Mia’s lips twitched with a frown.

“If I’d been in your shoes, I wouldn’t have left my family’s side at all,” she said bluntly. After a pause, she added, “...Even so...you’re right, I wouldn’t have left my family to deal with all this alone.”

Jacob smiled at her through the glass.

“I figured. Well, if you want me to keep sending you more ‘books,’ I’ll be happy to do it. We are kind of on the same side now, in all this.”

Mia crossed her arms with a huff. “Hardly.”

Even as she thought this, though, Ambrosius’s words from before Valentine’s Day came back to her.

“I’m not sure…but, well, we can’t be the only ones, to not believe the Ministry’s narrative. Who knows? Maybe if we can find those other people who see the dark clouds overhead and want to do something about it, we can put our heads together. Then maybe we’ll find some way to be of use.”

Jacob Cromwell had pointed out how much bigger the War was, compared to all of them as individuals. It was truly massive -- terrifyingly so. It had thrown Mia’s whole peaceful world out the window -- thrown the entire Wizarding World’s, sense of safety into chaos. Even Florean had said it himself, in one of his letters --

It’s hardly a wonder that people don’t know who they can trust now...

And yet Jacob had told Callie about what Umbridge had done to Potter, which also ended up being what she’d done to Olin, as well. Jacob had tried to give Mia a message for Potter himself, warning him not to go to the Department of Mysteries -- even if Dumbledore apparently hadn’t wanted Potter to know about it or about Jacob and his other supporters guarding it...

“That’s why I wanted to tell Potter not to go to the Ministry -- because I know first-hand how hard it is to make good choices, if you don’t know what people want from you...”

Mia couldn’t fathom how strange of a world she had to be in, to be in a position where she’d have to trust the likes of Jacob Cromwell...but she had to admit -- even at his most pigheaded, obnoxious, annoying, violent, and clueless, he was smart, and he was never a coward. Not like Fudge. 

Jacob did see the dark clouds overheard, and he did want to do something about it. Just like she did.

“So? What do you say?”

Mia looked up at Jacob. His posture was faintly stiff and uncertain, but his eyes were locked on his face through the glass, despite the odd tilt of his head. He seemed to be watching her with a bizarre kind of interest.

Mia's lips curled up in the very slightest, cynical smirk.

“...All right. I’ll accept your ‘book recommendations.’ But don’t think that means I like you anymore than I did before.”

Jacob grinned, thoroughly unfazed by this, as he turned around to face her properly.

“Hey, at least I won’t have to worry about you chasing me out of your family’s shop anymore!"

#hermia flume #florean fortescue #olin cresswell #jacob cromwell #callie flume #carewyn cromwell #albus dumbledore #harry potter #my writing #my fanfiction #YAAAY these two are allies! ...sort of #it's really as the second wizarding war heats up that these two really end up helping each other out more #and in the process become closer #I may or may not have unfinished art of these two in my sketchbook hence why I'm really itching to finish more of this stuff for them >> #so that the art being posted will actually somewhat make sense XD

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist.

A Ravenclaw with a surly attitude and sharp tongue.

A Slytherin with a cocky smirk and sarcastic flair.

It was no secret that Y/N and Theodore Nott were the worst academic rivals Hogwarts had ever seen. Since first year, the two have been vying for the top spot. As their seventh and final year rolls around, will the serpent and the eagle overcome the titular sins of pride and prejudice and succumb to the brewing tension between them or will their claws and teeth prevent them from acknowledging their feelings?

DISCLAIMER

The characters in this fic are 19+ given the repeat of their seventh year due to the Second Wizarding War.

CHAPTERS

— chapter one. — chapter two. — chapter three. — chapter four. — chapter five. — chapter six. — chapter seven. — chapter eight. — chapter nine. — chapter ten. — chapter eleven. — chapter twelve. — chapter thirteen.

PLAYLIST

💋 kiss with a fist - florence and the machine 💋 baby said - måneskin 💋 high enough - k. flay 💋 bohemian rhapsody - queen 💋 me and the devil - soap & skin 💋 w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole 💋 it's nice to have a friend - taylor swift 💋 people i don't like - upsahl 💋 only love can hurt like this - paloma faith 💋 the way i loved you - taylor swift 💋 18 - one direction 💋 those eyes - new west 💋 we made it - david hugo

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16 @moonsreid @grrbrielew @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @imaginationlover101 @s0kovianwitch @lucy-is-never-logical @unstablereader @ellieslaces @bellarkefandom @shereadsandcries @hrts4pads @loveforlupin

#THEO NOTT BRAIN ROTT IS REAL BABES #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theo nott x you #theodore nott

[catsp1racy]

Fic recs #46

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40099698/chapters/100428444

#drarry #pre slash #trauma #reliving trauma #age regression #whump #post second wizarding war #traumatized harry potter #abused harry potter #child abuse #mind healer draco malfoy