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theonotti · 5 months

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MIO | OS | t.n.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Voldemort won. Harry Potter is dead. But the Order of the Phoenix is still fighting, with two surprising allies who have very different reasons for aiding their cause.

Warnings: Pretty angsty. AU where Voldemort did not die at the end of DH.

Notes: This is heavily inspired by Secrets & Masks and Manacled. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

That Final Night One Shot

Late.

They’re fucking late.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Theo looks down at his watch.

Twenty minutes late, to be exact.

“How long are we expected to wait here?” Mattheo growls, pacing across the wood of the decrepit bar. The floorboards creak with every step. Theo is sitting at one of the tables, a sigh forcing its way out of his lungs as he watches his friend. In one hand is a cigarette, the other hand mindlessly tracing the vandalism that had been scratched into the top of the table.

“Another ten minutes and then we’re fucking off.”

The bar has been long abandoned, making it their top choice for discreet meetings. They had cycled through a few different locations before they finally found the bar. The walls are a sloppy black color, which is mostly covered in 80’s posters, both movies and musical talents alike. Theo’s eyes drift from poster to poster. He’s seen them what feels like a thousand times, and yet he still finds it hard to tear his eyes away when he stares at them.

An hour has already passed since their arrival, but that was due to the ungodly amount of wards and disillusionment charms that they needed to cast before the meeting, a ritual that has become quite routine. Once everything is set, they’ll briefly discuss what they’ll say, and then they wait. Theo finds the extra waiting time peaceful, usually. It gives him a chance to mentally prepare for the carnage that comes to his psyche afterwards. The guilt. The fear. But this time, the stakes are higher, increasing the tension in his muscles much too soon. He can feel the pain already in his lower back, and he doesn’t want to imagine the aches he’ll be feeling once he returns home.

“Can’t we just kill them?”

Theo considers this question as he lets his eyes jump back to Mattheo.

“That would probably defeat the purpose of why we’re here.”

“Sure, but I still hate Weasley and his stupid face. Just one Cruciatus curse at his ugly face would be okay, surely. I won’t even make it a long one. Four minutes tops.”

Theo boredly watches the smoke from his cigarette float up towards the ceiling as he ignores Mattheo. Every moment that passes increases his irritation. He finds himself wondering if it’s a power move on their part. They hold all the cards, so they can keep him waiting.

Something in the air triggers, both men looking towards the door. Theo’s fingers tense around the cigarette as he brings it to his mouth to take another drag, his other hand dropping down from the table to clench around his wand as it rests on his lap. The dimly lit room has a smoky haze, all thanks to Mattheo and Theo disregarding the “No Smoking Allowed” sign that is appropriately starting to fall off the wall.

The door opens, Ron Weasley followed by Hermione Granger walking in. Theo has long lost count of how many times they’ve met with Granger and Weasley, yet it still feels jarring every time he sees them. Maybe it’s because their appearance catches him off guard each time.

Despite them all being in their mid twenties, they all look tired and worn. The rosey cheeks that Granger sported while they were in school are now gaunt and hollow. Dark circles are painted under her eyes, along with Weasley’s, and she keeps her bushy hair contained in two french braids going down her back. Weasley keeps his hair short now, and his body is more built than it had ever been when they were at Hogwarts. His boy-like features are long gone, with gray already peppering his ginger hair, and if Theo didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that Weasley was in his late thirties at the least. The life in their eyes had long drained out, replaced with a coldness that chilled anyone who happened to be stuck in their gaze.

War hadn’t been kind to Theo or Mattheo either.

Mattheo has more scars on his face than he did back in school, and he grew his hair long in a feeble attempt to hide them. There was a time that he wore them like a badge of honor, but since the start of the war and his PTSD becoming worse than ever, they no longer were something he pretended to be proud of. He’s since developed an anxiety twitch, his whole face seeming to spasm whenever there’s a loud noise not caused by him, or tense moment. Though they don’t live together anymore, now that Theo has full ownership of Nott Manor, when they had, Theo could remember all the nights of hearing his best friend scream and cry in his sleep from across the mansion. It was more often than not, and it was unbearably hard to get Mattheo to calm down from the vivacious nightmares.

The opposite could be said for Theo. Instead of nights filled with intense dreams of death and melancholy, Theo simply doesn’t sleep. He couldn’t, for the life of him, shut his brain off. And while that had always been an issue for him to some degree, it had become exacerbated since his transition from student to soldier. Theo doesn’t know what being tired feels like anymore. It’s so ingrained in his psyche that it would be more abnormal for him to not be tired. All he can do is adjust, living off coffee and the occasional upper to keep him moving.

Weasley leans on the wall beside the door. His demeanor is much more unpleasant than normal as his eyes flit between Theo and Mattheo. Theo pretends not to notice as he looks at Granger, who’s standing in the middle of the room. She always did all the talking. Theo assumes it’s because of the way she carries herself, and they certainly take her more seriously than they could any Weasley. Besides being a fighter for the Order of the Phoenix, Granger is a war negotiator. She deals with prisoner exchanges and, eventually, peace talks. Although, considering it’s been seven years since the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo is less confident of the possibility of any sort of peace treaty happening any time soon. For the entire duration of the war, it was her that Theo dealt with when it came to these sorts of things, before and after their betrayal.

She clears her throat.

“What information do you have for us?”

The strain in her voice is lost on no one. The tension in the air is so thick, Theo is convinced he could grab it if he tried.

Mattheo stops his pacing, turning to face her full on. His anger is palpable.

“Stop with the bullshit,” He snaps. “Let’s talk about why we’re really here today.”

Weasley’s hand tightens around his wand, but he doesn’t move. Theo keeps his eyes on him to ensure it stays that way before turning back to Granger.

“You have Malfoy.” Theo’s voice is quiet, tone neutral.

The corners of her mouth twitch upward.

“We have Malfoy.”

Mattheo lets out a frustrated sigh.

“We can’t continue to cooperate with you until you hand him back.”

Granger’s expression doesn’t change, making it clear that this reaction was expected.

“He’s quite the bargaining tool. What are you willing to give for him?” A beat passes. “Or I guess I should say, who?”

Mattheo turns to look at Theo, who can tell just by that exchange of a glance that his friend’s patience is wearing horrifically thin.

“We can ensure the release of Luna Lovegood and Seamus Finnegan. And we’re prepared to give you the maps of the hidden prisons in Sussex.” Theo conveniently forgets to mention that they were already planning to give them the maps, regardless of the way things went at this meeting.

Granger turns to look at Weasley, who merely raises his eyebrows, before turning back to Theo.

“He’s Draco Malfoy.”

Theo’s hand curls tighter around his wand.

Mattheo huffs loudly, throwing his hand down and smacking it on the bar top. The sound is so loud that Granger flinches, and Weasley pushes off the wall suddenly, but doesn’t move forward.

“You know bloody well that our heads will be on a fucking spike if we don’t get him back,” He hisses at them. “Then who will aid your bloody Order? You think there’s anyone else who will risk their necks like we have? Honestly?”

“Regardless of your help to the Order, do you really think we can just hand Voldemort back one of his best fighters?” Granger's voice raises just a touch. Mattheo takes a step towards her.

“You’ll be singing a different fucking tune when we’re dead and you realize the next on the list is you. You’re losing the goddamn war. Biblically. You need us. Alive.”

Theo waits for Mattheo to finish his outburst before he turns his attention back to Granger. He knows where this is going.

Fuck, he knows where this is going.

“What else do you want, then?”

Theo’s hands tremble slightly. He clenches his right fist around his wand even more, the left bringing the cigarette back to his mouth quickly.

Mattheo shakes his head, turning away as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it with his want.

Granger tilts her head as she looks at Theo, her expression shifting to a tired one, as if the answer is obvious. When she speaks again, her voice is just above a whisper.

“You know who we want, Nott. It’s been almost a year.”

Theo’s nostrils flare.

“Not on the table.”

Suffice to say, the raid couldn’t have possibly gone worse.

How the Order could’ve been so prepared for them was beyond Theo.

One minute, everything seemed to be going to plan as Theo, Mattheo, Malfoy, Blaise and a few others sauntered into the safe house. Quick in and out. Nothing too complicated. The next, it was like the floor fell out from under their feet.

How did things get so royally fucked up?

Theo woke with a start, sitting up abruptly, covered in a layer of sweat as his eyes darted around the room. It took him a minute to get reoriented, and only then did he realize that he was in his own living room, laid on the couch with a blanket draped over him. Ripping the blanket off, his hands flew towards his abdomen. When he looked down, he found he was shirtless, but his skin was unharmed, save for some minor scarring. New editions to the collection. He then reached up and touched the top of his head. Nothing. Not even a scrape.

What?

Slowly, he kicked his feet over the side of the couch and stood up. The room spun for a moment, and his joints ached, but otherwise, he was completely normal.

The manor was silent. So silent that it made the hairs on the back of Theo’s neck stand up. Almost automatically, he walked across the floor, his bare feet cold against the hardwood. He tried to keep his footfall soft as he continued listening for any sort of sound. There, in the faint distance, he could hear… something. Grabbing a hoodie off the back of a chair, he slipped it over his bare torso and zipped it up halfway before making his way towards the sound.

Theo stepped into the kitchen. A flash of movement came from the other slide of the sliding door that leads to the courtyard. His hand instinctively went to grab his wand from his pocket, only for him to realize it wasn’t there. At the same moment, he also realized the person outside was Mattheo, having a smoke. His tense fingers relaxed, his arm falling back to his side.

Mattheo looked over as Theo slid the door open and walked out.

“Look who’s awake. How’re you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?”

“Who healed me?”

Mattheo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“You wound me, Nott. You don’t think I’m capable?”

Theo shook his head almost immediately.

“It’s not as… clean when you do it. And I have the scars to prove it.” He pointed to his back, which was covered in scars thanks to a nasty run in with a car, a Bombarda cast, and Mattheo’s lack of concern to learn basic field emergency spell casting.

Mattheo sighed in resignation before saying, “You’re right. It wasn’t me.”

Theo waited for Mattheo to give elaboration, and when one wasn't given, he could feel his fingers curl into fists. Though Mattheo’s face was neutral, the tension radiating off his body could be felt a kilometer away.

“What did you do?”

Mattheo took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nostrils before turning back to Theo.

“Theo…”

“What did you do, Riddle?”

Swallowing hard, Mattheo looked away from Theo.

“We got their best healer.”

Theo blinked. A hostage?

“You took someone?” He asked, voice low. “That… that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Not that things ever went to plan. And not that they hadn’t ever deviated so far left and forced them to take hostages before. But there was something about the way Mattheo couldn’t look at him that made Theo’s fingers run cold.

Mattheo shook his head as he took a seat on one of the lounge chairs. He let his head fall to his chest, as if it were too heavy to hold up anymore. “That wall fell on you. You were going to die, Theo. We needed…” He inhaled sharply before looking up again. “It was beyond us. We needed the help. We needed her.”

Theo wracked his brain. The Order’s best healer? The Order’s best healer. Why does this mean something to him?

“Who is it?”

Mattheo leaned backwards in the seat so his back laid against the chair before he pointed at Theo, as if he was preemptively defending himself.

“You’re going to thank me. You’ll be pissed. But you’re going to thank me, ultimately.”

Theo’s nose twitched.

“Mattheo… who is it?”

Mattheo nodded back towards the house before vaguely replying, “She’s upstairs, in the North wing.”

Theo’s feet didn’t move, stuck to the floor like ice. His mind was running, a plethora of questions all begging to be answered. But his mouth forgot how to work as well. For a moment, all he was able to do was stare at Mattheo, who stared back briefly before nodding towards the house again.

“Go on.” His voice was soft.

Theo’s feet kicked on again, taking him back into the house as if they were on autopilot.

Why the hell are you so nervous? You don’t even know who it is.

His wand was laying on the end table next to the staircase, which he grabbed and shoved in his pocket. His knees buckled as he walked up the stairs. Distantly, he could hear the sound of yelling and objects being thrown around. It didn’t take him long to figure out which closed door the sounds were coming from the other side of. He stood outside the black wooden door, listening. Trying to maybe discern who it was before he went in.

He could just make out the wards that had been placed on the door. Laying a hand on the knob, he was relieved to find that he was able to touch the brass of the handle. Mattheo had been known to incorrectly cast the spell so no one could get through, which had more than once sent Theo or Malfoy through a wall.

A shaky sigh pushing its way from Theo’s lungs and out of his mouth, he turned the knob and let himself inside the room.

The color drained from Theo’s face.

Standing in the middle of the room, chest heaving and anger radiating off of like a stove top, was you.

Suddenly, Theo was back at Hogwarts, standing in the Astronomy Tower. You were no longer in your casual shirt and jeans, but instead, in your Hufflepuff robes as you looked at him and told him you were leaving to join the Order.

“This war is above us, Theo. Dumbledore is dead. Harry Potter is dead. I can’t stand idly by and watch people die. I need to do something.”

“Yeah? And what about me?”

“You could come with me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“And you know I can’t stay.”

The memory hit Theo like a train. His breath hitched in his throat.

You turned to face him, freezing in the headlights of his gaze. The way your fury faltered at the sight of him made it clear that you were having the same out of body experience that he was.

You certainly had been busy. All of the furniture in the room was broken. The night stand had been thrown against the pewter colored wall, leaving a dent in the dry wall and the wooden pieces scattered across the floor. A picture frame that Theo hung and forgot about was in ruins, the brunette girl in the picture cowering in the corner of the shredded pieces of photo paper. Feathers from the pillows littered the carpet. The mattress had been thrown off the bed frame, which was also now broken.

Though he couldn’t focus on the damage that had been done to his guest room. He was too busy staring at you with the same confounded look he’d had when he first entered the room.

Your hair was longer than he remembered it, pulled back so it was out of your face. Your features had grown with you, your cheekbones more prominent, your eyes with more bags, your cheeks with less color. There wasn’t a corner of Theo’s world that wasn’t burdened by war, and, unfortunately, that included you. His heart raced in his chest as he looked at you. He had locked the memory of you deep into the catacombs of his brain, not allowing himself to bring them out for any occasion. There wasn’t the time or need for it. This is war. When is there a moment for reminiscing on the worst day of his life?

But now there you were, standing in front of him, with a dumbfoundedly angry look on your face, casual clothes and longer hair. The flood gates were now opened, and he was overwhelmed with memories of you, running through his mind so quickly that he felt like he was spinning.

Your eyes still twinkled in the light that streamed in through the curtains.

“You tell Mattheo Riddle that he can give me back my wand and we’ll see then if he’s able to force me into this room again.”

Theo flinched.

The sound of your voice alone made him feel the need to have a complete mental breakdown. You could’ve been cursing him out or singing in German and he would still feel the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball on the floor. Even with your anger, it still felt like a sweet symphony to Theo’s ears.

He never thought he’d hear the sound again.

Hell, he never thought he’d see you again.

Realizing you had spoken and he was just staring at you like an imbecile, he cleared his throat.

“You healed me.”

Your expression shifted, an emotion crossing your face that Theo couldn’t read. Standing a little straighter, you nodded.

“I’m a healer,” You said slowly, distantly. “It’s what I do.”

He snorted. That bleeding Hufflepuff heart.

“You could’ve let me die,” He pointed out, cocking his head to the side.

You seemed to consider this briefly before saying, “In theory, yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Silence hung in the air between the two of you, coupled with the unmitigated tension. Theo’s hands were curled at his sides, not from anger, but to stop himself from giving into the inordinate compulsion to reach out and touch you. To prove to himself that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. That you were actually in front of him. You shifted your weight to your other foot.

“I don’t think I really could’ve, even if I wanted to.”

The words unsaid in this moment would keep Theo up at night for weeks.

Your eyes trailed down his body, studying him, taking in his bare chest underneath the hoodie. He swallowed hard, his body seeming to freeze under your gaze. Maybe he should’ve changed before coming into the room. At least maybe thrown on a proper shirt. He’d never had a hostage in his home before. There was no protocol book on the proper etiquette.

Especially not when the hostage was his ex-girlfriend who’s now working on the opposite side of the war.

You let out a strangled sigh.

“You have to let me go back, Theo. They need me. No one is trained on some of the things I am.”

The shake of his head was immediate.

“You can’t even begin to comprehend what he would do if he found out Mattheo and I had you and then just let you go back,” He said in a strained yet soft voice. “I can’t. We can’t.”

Your nose twitched as you closed your eyes.

“I won’t fucking heal for him,” You declared in a low tone. “I’d rather be strung up in Godric’s Hollow to rot like all the other people he’s executed than heal for him.”

Theo tried to be rational as he considered what to do. There was a tug of war in his mind, his loyalties competing to decide the best course of action. The obvious answer was to turn you over to The Dark Lord, where you would be put on trial for the crimes he deemed you guilty of, and then punished accordingly. With the skills you hold, Theo knew that you would more than likely be put under the Imperius curse and forced to act as a healer for the Death Eaters.

Though the answer was obvious, that didn’t make it correct. Not to him or to anyone else.

Theo knew. He knew you’d rather die than breathe the same air as the Death Eaters, let alone fix their wounds and send them back out to kill your people. His head throbbed as he tried to think of the best direction to go in.

Because, in his head, letting you go was simply out of the question.

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” Granger asks. “We have something you want, you have something we want. We exchange.”

Theo shakes his head as he smashes the end of his half smoked cigarette on the top of the table.

“She’s not for trade.”

“Well, she’s what we want.”

A bead of sweat trails down the side of his face. He ignores it.

“She’s nowhere close to being worth the same as Draco Malfoy. This isn’t a fair trade.” He means it, but not in the way that he presented it to them. Nothing they could offer would make it a fair trade in Theo’s eyes. They could offer the end of the war. They could offer his freedom from the Death Eaters. They could offer endless riches, or immortality, or anything else he could possibly dream up. None of it would equate.

“Then we’ll gladly take Luna and Seamus back as well,” Granger says through clenched teeth, expression reading that her patience is wearing thin. “To make up the difference.”

Theo opens his mouth to respond, but Mattheo cuts in before he gets the chance.

“You’ll take what we fucking give you.”

Granger shoots him a dagger filled glare.

“We can no longer afford to play these games with you. You have our best healer. And we need her back.” She rolls her head before her eyes fall back on Theo. “We have been patient. We have accepted that we had nothing worth trading for her. Now we do. Malfoy’s importance to the Death Eaters is well known. Don’t patronize us by pretending we don’t have the upper hand here.”

A chill runs through Theo’s spine.

She’s right.

God dammit, she’s right.

Theo runs a hand through his messy hair, the most he’s moved since he sat down. His brain scrambles to come up with something, anything, that he can offer to remedy this. There has to be something of equal value. There has to be something he can give that would make them decide to let you stay.

“Before you try to come up with some feeble offer, know that we won’t be backing down from this,” Granger says as if she’s reading Theo’s mind. “You won’t be getting Draco Malfoy back unless we get her, regardless of what else you give. She’s the only card you have that could get him back.”

Theo’s eyes snap back to Granger, the anger boiling in his chest.

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” He repeats her words back to her. She smiles at him, but the gesture does not reach her eyes.

“Maybe negotiation is the wrong word for it.” She hums thoughtfully. “It’s more like a plea deal. Take it or leave it.”

“You’re up late.”

Theo jumped at the sound of your voice as he quickly flicked the light on.

He didn’t expect to find you in his kitchen, sitting cross legged on the island counter with the lights off. A bowl of what he could only assume was cereal was in your hands.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s four in the morning.”

You glanced up at the clock as well, before shrugging.

“Fine, you’re up early.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Theo’s mouth.

He could feel you studying him as you brought the spoon to your mouth. A flush of warmth filled his cheeks as he made his way to the fridge, making it a point to turn away from you. Still, he knew your eyes never left him.

“You still don’t sleep much, huh?” You asked, mouth full of cereal.

He sighed as he pulled the carton of orange juice off the shelf.

“I’d say I don’t sleep at all these days.”

He popped the top of the carton before bringing it to his mouth and throwing his head back. You watched him carefully, seeming to pause your eating.

“You’re a feral one now, aren’t you?” You asked in a playful tone. “Drinking right from the carton? Who have you become, Theodore Nott?”

He laughed, the sound being so foreign to him these days, before saying, “I generally live alone, and I never host other people. No need to waste a glass, as far as I’m concerned.”

Him ignoring the last comment of yours was intentional. Despite the playfulness behind it, Theo doesn’t know how you would feel about the man he’s become, and he doesn’t want to dwell on that fact.

You continue to laugh as you shake your head.

“Mad behaviour.”

Theo eyed you.

“Says the girl sitting on the counter, in the dark, eating cereal.”

You smiled as you take another bite.

“Got me there.”

It had been almost two months since Mattheo had taken you hostage and made you Theo’s problem. In an attempt to keep peace, Theo gave you free reign of the entire manor and all of the land around it. After repairing the furniture in the guest room (multiple times, as you had to get your frustration out somehow), Theo allowed you to stay there. Before his death, Nott Sr. had created a dungeon-esque holding below the house, with cage like cells and torture weapons, but Theo had the area of the house completely closed off upon his arrival as head of estate, and he wasn’t planning to reopen it anytime soon. Besides, the thought of locking you in an actual cell made Theo physically ill.

“How’s the escape plot going?” Theo asked as he leaned against the counter adjacent from you, juice carton still in hand.

“Considering I can’t apparate because you already had anti apparation wards in place, the wards Mattheo placed that are linked to my DNA so I can’t leave the estate at all, and that bed being the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on…” You listed, raising a finger with every reason. “ … I’d say it’s going quite terribly.”

Theo’s eyebrows hit his hairline as he let out a surprised huff.

“Mattheo has always been quite meticulous.”

“Well, he said he was afraid you’d let me go.”

Theo’s smile faded quite quickly.

The first couple of weeks following your capture, you had made yourself scarce around the manor, mostly spending time in the North wing. Theo made it a point to stay out of your way. Not only for the sake of your anger, but because he needed to work out his own emotions about you being there. Even in this moment, looking at you in the kitchen, he still hadn’t quite worked out how the whole thing made him him.

After the first couple of weeks, you had slowly started making your way through the manor, exploring every crevice. Every nook and cranny. Theo knew it was to look for a weakness to exploit that could lead to your escape, but he didn’t comment that to you. Just let it sit in the back of his head.

With your emergence from your room also came your increased interactions with the dark haired lad. It was painful at first, just a curt nod here and there, but it slowly built up to exchanging jokes and sarcastic comments, and even as far as the two of you reading books in silence together in the library.

It was almost as if there was never a moment between the days you and him spent together at Hogwarts and now. Just cut the time apart out and sew the rest together like the war never happened.

Theo often found himself wondering if he was one of the weaknesses you were attempting to exploit.

Your comment about Mattheo believing Theo would let you go did nothing to snuff out that thought.

He tried not to think about it too much.

You watched him carefully as he took another long sip of juice from the carton.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do with me yet?”

Theo rolled his eyes, setting the juice on the black countertop next to him.

“Nope.”

He didn’t bother to ask how you knew it was even up for debate. You’d always had a knack for just knowing things. And he couldn’t imagine that his debates with Malfoy and Mattheo were as quiet as he would’ve liked them to be.

“What are you leaning towards?” You asked innocently, your eyes studying him. He bit the inside of his cheek as he considered how to answer.

“Let’s see,” He mumbled. “Malfoy thinks I should turn you in. He doesn’t see why you’re useful here, and says you’d be better suited as a healer for… them.” He decided not to say Death Eaters, but you flinched at the idea anyway. “Mattheo thinks I should keep you here.”

Your eyes didn’t leave him as you took another bite of your cereal. Theo mirrored you with the orange juice.

“But what are you leaning towards?”

“Not turning you in, that’s for damn sure.”

Your gaze pinned him, as your eyes narrow only slightly.

“So I’m stuck here then.” It was more of a statement than a question, and something about it made an ache burst through Theo’s chest. He had no idea how to respond, so he opted to say nothing, instead bringing the juice carton back to his lips. Your eyes followed him. “Theo, you’re a rational person. You know that I don’t want to be here. Why can’t you just let me go back to the Order?”

His eyes fluttered shut.

“It’s complicated.”

You set the bowl down on the counter before looking back up at him.

“Then simplify it for me.”

All he could say in a breathy whisper was your name.

He didn’t know how. He couldn’t even simplify it for himself.

It all happens at once.

Theo quickly stands, pushing the chair out from under him so quickly that it glides across the floor and into the wall.

Weasley rushes forward, his wand pointed at Theo.

Mattheo grabs Weasley by the scruff of his shirt, roughly shoving him into the wall with the tip of his wand jabbing into the ginger’s jugular. The impact of his back against the hard surface causes Weasley to drop his wand, which Mattheo swiftly kicks across the floor.

Granger puts her wand only inches from Mattheo’s head, though he doesn’t appear to notice.

Theo directs his wand to Granger.

“The difference between you and I, Weasley,” Mattheo hisses in his face. “Is that I don’t have any pathetic qualms about making a person suffer. So please. Point your wand at one of us again. We’ll see who comes out the bigger man.”

“That’s enough, Riddle!” Granger shouts, pressing her wand into Mattheo’s temple. Theo steps forward and jams his wand through her hair and into her occipital scalp.

“Drop it.”

A beat passes.

Mattheo’s face twitches.

Granger slowly lowers her hand, her jaw clenched so tight that Theo is convinced her teeth will crack.

“We all want the same outcome,” She says in a quiet voice, still glaring daggers at Mattheo.

“It’s how we get there that we can’t seem to see eye to eye on,” Theo growls.

Letting his hand drop back to his side, Theo takes a step back towards the table he had previously been occupying.

“Let him go, Mattheo.”

The curly haired man glares into Weasley’s face for a moment longer, letting his deep breath smack against the ginger’s face before he shoves him away. Theo’s eyes follow Mattheo as he walks back to his pacing area, and then they flick back to Granger. She looks incensed over what just occurred, as Weasley adjusts his shirt, embarrassment painting his cheeks pink.

Theo opts to stay standing this time.

“She’s not a part of the equation,” He says in a low tone. “We can give you the maps, Finnegan and Lovegood for Malfoy. Or we can give nothing at all.”

A draft fills the room as the wind can be heard whipping outside over the silence.

“And again, we are well aware of Draco’s importance to the Death Eater army,” Granger says in a tone that matches Theo’s. “There is no option. It’s her or nothing.”

Theo fights the urge to curse her.

“Then it’s nothing.”

The door hit the wall so hard, Theo could almost feel the drywall dent. In the moment, however, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

You whipped around to face him. The anger on your face couldn’t be missed, but neither could his. For a while, the two of you just stared at each other, speaking through daggered glares and heaving chests, as if words weren’t necessary.

It was a moment of deja vu, calling back to the first time the two of you met in what became your assigned bedroom of the house. Both times equally as tense, but for radically different reasons. And this time, all of the pieces of furniture were entirely intact.

Finally, Theo broke the silence.

“What business do you have, entering the field?”

Your nostrils flared.

“What business do you have, almost getting yourself killed?”

A breeze came in through the window, chilling the room further. As if it needed the help.

“I was handling myself fine,” He said in a low voice. “Injuries are bound to happen-“

“A pelvic fracture and an open head wound are both severe injuries,” You countered in a raised voice. “You may have felt fine in the moment but you wouldn’t have after you lost two liters of blood just from the fractured pelvis alone. You needed care.”

Theo felt like throwing things as the anger flared heavily in his chest.

“I could’ve apparated back to the manor after-“

“You would’ve splinched yourself with that severe of injuries, Theo,” You snarled, looking exasperated. “Mattheo came and got me.”

Theo made a mental note to kick the absolute shit out of Mattheo the next time he saw him.

“You could’ve said no!” He shouted. “You’re not my bloody on-call healer who gets to risk her life whenever I almost die.” The image of you in the middle of the fight, dodging multiple green casts in your wake, was burned into his retinas. Despite being safe in the Manor now, his chest was still reeling from the panic that flooded his heart and lungs when he fought to get to you.

You took a rushed step forward.

“Don’t fucking do that,” You said in a strained voice. “You don’t get to drag my arse back into your life-“

“You think I wanted this for you?” He shouted, cutting you off. “I didn’t drag you anywhere. I didn’t bring you here. I didn’t ask for this.”

You took another step towards him, more controlled this time. Theo almost took a step backwards to keep the distance.

Almost.

“But you kept me here. Why am I still fucking here, Theo?”

The words left his mouth before his brain had a chance to even consider them.

“Because you fucking left me before I was fucking done with you!”

Theo’s chest heaved, as he stared down at you. The room became painfully silent, the only sound being Theo’s breathing. You were holding your breath.

“What does that mean?”

Theo didn’t hesitate for a moment.

“You left me to join the Order. You left me behind and I went bloody maniacal. I didn’t know a person could be touch starved for a specific set of hands, but your fingers burned their prints into my skin and I can’t get them to goddamn heal. And then Mattheo dropped you on my fucking door step and it was like I was an imprisoned man who just felt the warmth of the sun for the first time in years.”

You were frozen, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“Theo…” A breathy whisper.

Theo shook his head, feeling a mix of anger and desperation in his head and heart. When he spoke, his voice was more calm this time, taking a low tone.

“If love were a language then the only one I know how to speak is the one we wrote together. I couldn’t lose you again. I can’t lose you again.”

It was unclear who moved first. Maybe Theo. Maybe you. Maybe both. But somehow, the distance between the two of you closed, and Theo’s mouth was crashing against yours.

His left hand was on the small of your back, the other on the back of your head. His fingers weaved through your hair with a firm grip, as if to keep you from pulling away. Your hands were on his cheeks, lightly cradling his head between your palms as your fingertips teased the beginnings of his hairline.

“I love you,” He said in a silent voice, his lips still pressed against yours in the desperate kiss. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too.” Your words came without a sliver of hesitation.

His tongue parted your lips, as your fingers moved to the back of his head. A groan forced its way up his throat. Your nails against his scalp drove him insane. It always had. Theo knew you knew that well.

And with that, he pushed you onto the bed.

“So…”

Theo closes his eyes at the sound of Mattheo’s voice. His steps are slow as they walk up the pathway of Nott Manor. In an effort to prolong the inevitable, Theo pulls a cigarette from his pocket, setting it between his lips before lighting it with his wand.

“We don’t have a choice, do we?”

Theo looks up at the sky as he blows a plume of smoke upwards to join the clouds. He can’t look at Mattheo.

“No,” He finally says. “We don’t.”

Mattheo pulls a smoke of his own out, lighting it before taking a deep inhale. The only sounds in the air are the wind and his exhale.

“What if we just stopped aiding them?” He suggested after a beat too long of silence. “They’re losing. They need the information we’re feeding them. A few weeks without it would have them feeding out of our palms.”

Theo considers this as he plops down on the top step leading onto the porch. The cold from the wood seeps through his trousers.

Not that his body held any warmth to begin with. Not since he walked out of that bar.

“We don’t have a few weeks.”

Another cloud fills the air.

“The Dark Lord wants Malfoy back now.”

Theo’s heart already feels hollow as he thinks about what he is getting ready to do.

Mattheo paces the cobblestone pathway, running his fingers through his curls as he takes another long drag of his cigarette.

“There has to be a way.”

Theo studies his friend. There’s very few people Mattheo holds loyalty to. The Order wasn’t on the list, despite the way they were risking everything to help them. The other Death Eaters didn’t have it. Hell, even his own father only held enough of Mattheo’s loyalty to keep him alive. Not enough for it to matter.

But Mattheo, from the moment they met until this moment in front of Nott Manor, was always fiercely loyal to Theo. And the way he desperately tries to come up with a solution to fix this for Theo pulls at his heart.

Because his loyalty to Theo also extends to you. When Theo told Mattheo that he was planning to betray Voldemort’s army in an effort to end the war and keep you with him, Mattheo wasted no time in joining him. No questions asked.

Mattheo was willing to risk his head to keep you safe if that was what Theo needed. And in this moment, Theo knew he didn’t thank his friend enough.

His hands shake slightly as he brings the cigarette back to his mouth.

“I don’t think there is.”

He doesn’t want to sound as defeated as he does. But as his mind runs a million kilometers a second, it still comes up short on a way of getting out of this.

Mattheo shakes his head angrily.

“This is bullshit.”

And Theo says nothing, his gaze fixed on the ground as he finishes his cigarette, and plans what he’s going to say once he goes inside.

Oh Merlin, do I really have to leave?

Theo sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at your sleeping form. Your back was facing him, the blanket low enough to show the bare skin of your upper torso.

He swallowed hard.

Five minutes. Just another five minutes.

But he knew he wouldn’t stop at five.

He was in his Death Eater robes, dressed to leave. This meeting wasn’t one he could afford to miss, and yet, watching you sleep in his bed was enough to make him at least consider it.

Reaching over, he traced the lines of your right scapula, moving down to the left, feeling your smooth skin and shoulder blades beneath his fingertips. Your body rose and fell with every breath you took, but you did not stir at his touch. He brushed your hair down to the side so it all fell concurrently onto the sheets.

Every time he tried to stand, his legs would defy him.

Bloody hell, this is impossible, he thought to himself.

The temptation to kiss you was strong, but he resisted. He didn’t want to wake you, because then you would know he was leaving, and then you’d ask questions. One’s he didn’t yet want to offer up the answers to.

You didn’t know what he was about to do.

The door creaked open, making Theo jump. Mattheo stood at the threshold, also in his robes. His eyes flitted between his friend and you, before they settled on Theo again. All he did was nod, a gesture that Theo returned, before turning and leaving once again.

A sigh forcing its way out of his lungs, Theo stood up from the bed. Before walking out the door, he threw one last fleeting glance your way.

This better fucking work.

Once the door to his bedroom was shut, Theo walked through the manor in a flash, before finding Mattheo standing in the front garden. His friend gave him a look, and it was not lost on Theo the anxiety in his expression.

“Are you sure about this?”

Mattheo’s words hung in the air, swirling around above them with the wind. Theo slowly let his head fall backwards as he stared at the sky. For once in his life, his thoughts weren’t racing. He was confident in this decision. He had never been more confident about anything.

“I’m sure.”

No more words were said.

Grabbing Mattheo’s forearm, the two men apparated. When they reappeared, it was in an empty warehouse in Sussex. Windows lined the walls just a meter or so below the ceiling. The walls themselves were painted an off white colour that left them looking dirty, with hand prints and muck dusting the paint. It felt too big, in Theo’s opinion. If this were to become a regular thing, they’d need something smaller. With seats, preferably.

The two got to work, placing wards and disillusionment charms everywhere they could. Before they knew it, a whole hour had passed, and they were just finishing up.

“You know I hate this right?” Mattheo asked as they regrouped in the center of the giant room. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not what we’re doing necessarily but this meeting?”

Theo had to fight the urge to laugh.

“You think I like this any more than you do?”

Mattheo shook his head as he looked around the warehouse, taking in the metal beams that lined the ceiling.

Theo took the moment of quiet to get his thoughts in order. Ever since he sent that damn letter, he had dreaded this moment. And now it was here, and though he had spent countless hours stewing and preparing, right now, he felt completely naked and defenseless.

A sensation filled the air. Theo looked over at the same time that Mattheo did. The door creaked open, the sound echoing off the walls and around the air, before Hermione Granger, followed by Ron Weasley, the Weasley twins, Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, another Weasley they couldn’t place, and the blonde Triwizard Tournament champion from fourth year who Theo, for the life of him, could not remember the name of.

“All Gryffindors, mostly Weasels,” Mattheo mumbled under his breath. “Too much bloody red around here.”

Theo fought the impulse to laugh.

The crowd of Order members approached them, all looking apprehensive. Granger stepped forward, her eyes jumping between the two of them.

“Nott.” When her eyes bounced back to Mattheo, the disdain became more apparent. When she spoke again, she spat the word out. “Riddle.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as Theo took a step forward, saving them the risk of what would happen if Mattheo were the next to speak.

“Granger.”

He debated on greeting the others, but decided against it. There simply wasn’t time for pleasantries. Besides, Theo didn’t particularly want to be polite to them. And he knew that Mattheo wanted nothing more than to raze the whole warehouse just because he saw that familiar flash of ginger hair one time, let alone several. So it was probably best to get right to the point.

“What’s this about?” The unfamiliar Weasley called out.

It was hard for Theo not to grow annoyed. The amount of people in the building had him feeling overwhelmed, though he couldn’t exactly blame him. How else should they have responded? It could’ve been a trap, for all they knew.

The moment Theo reached into his back pocket, a swarm of wands were pointing in his direction. In his periphery, he could see Mattheo’s fists clench. though he was grateful that his friend didn’t immediately start spitting off hexes and Unforgivables. Theo froze more out of politeness than fear, then slowed his movements down. With the same speed as a snail, he pulled out a couple of scrolls, tossing it on the floor halfway between where he stood and where she stood. The wands all moved to point at the scroll in the same way they would point at a bomb.

“Those are plans for upcoming raids on your safe houses,” Theo explained. “Now you can be better prepared.”

The reaction was comical. At least, to Theo, it was.

Granger stared at the scrolls, her mouth agape. Ron and Ginny kept their wands pointed at it in a way that suggested they were convinced it was anything but a scroll. The twins backed away from it entirely. Dean Thomas stared not at the scroll, but at Mattheo specifically, confusion painting his expression. The unfamiliar Weasley with the scars on his face jumped away when Theo threw the scroll, and had not moved since. And the blonde looked like she wanted to approach it, but was too afraid to let her feet move.

Granger was the first to speak.

“Why should we trust you?”

A draft filled the room.

“Trust us or don’t,” Mattheo quipped. “You’re losing. You’ve been losing. Pathetically. We’re guaranteeing you a win right now. Whether you decide to take that chance is up to you.”

The silence was deafening as the members of the Order all exchanged looks, looking absolutely flabbergasted by this turn of events. It was clear they were trying to have a conversation through their facial expressions. Every muscle in Theo’s body tensed as he waited for their reaction.

This has to work, He thought to himself.

This will work.

“What do you get out of this?”

Granger’s words hung in the hair, and though the question was for the both of them, her eyes were pointedly trained on Mattheo. When the two Death Eaters remained silent, she continued.

“You’re betraying your families. Your fathers. What could you possibly have to gain, besides maybe a pardon from execution if we win?” She sneers. “And even that isn’t guaranteed.”

Visions of you lying in his bed, only covered by the duvet cover, overtook Theo’s head. He found himself wondering if you’d woken up yet. If you’d eaten. If you’d slept well. If you’d realised he’d left. The lump in his throat felt like a bolder when he swallowed it down. His fingertips burned with the feeling of your bare skin underneath them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo sees Mattheo glance over at him.

This is, after all, Theo’s doing. So it’s his question to answer.

“Family isn’t everything,” Theo said in a low tone. “And some people are worth yielding for.”

Rise.

Fall.

Rise.

Fall.

It takes Theo a full half hour before he finally finds you in the manor. Here you are, curled up on the couch in the library with one of his robes covering you like a blanket. Your back faces him as your face is nuzzled against the fabric of the back of the couch.

Deja vu hits him hard.

Instead of waking you, Theo sits on the ottoman beside you and counts the amount of breaths you take. At the moment, he’s up to about sixty since he started. It’s easier on his heart to sit in the silence, only filled with your quiet snores.

It’s easier for his heart to handle than what it knows he has to do.

But he knows that he’s only prolonging the inevitable.

Letting out a deep sigh, Theo reaches over and places his hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake.

“Hey,” He says in a low voice in an attempt to not startle you. “It’s me. Wake up.”

Your head springs upward, looking around at the back of the couch before you roll over to face Theo. The way your eyes light up at the sight of him makes his heart ache in a way he’ll never be able to describe. It’s like he misses you before you’ve even left.

A soft yawn takes over your face for just a brief moment, and is quickly replaced with a tired smile.

“How’d it go?”

Theo bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he can taste blood.

I can’t do this.

You have to do this.

“Not great.”

The smile fades from your face. As quickly as your still waking up body allows, you sit up, rolling over to face him entirely. Theo sits up straight as you pause, watching as the wheels turn in your head to process what he had said.

“What happened?” Your voice is so small, and something about it gives Theo the impression that you already know where this conversation is about to go. He sighs heavily. The pain in his upper back makes it feel like he has the entire world on his shoulders.

“They wouldn’t return Malfoy to us,” He explains. In an effort to hide the shake in his voice, he speaks slowly. “They… they had specific conditions for his release.”

The hush blanketing the room is only pacified by the pounding in Theo’s ears.

If there is one thing about you that Theo knows deeply, it’s that you can’t keep your emotions off your face. So it’s to his great dismay that he watches your expression shift from confusion, to thoughtful, to realisation.

“They want me, don’t they?”

The words feel like a bullet each, piercing through Theo’s chest and implanting straight into his heart.

I can’t bloody do this.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, the quiet that overtakes the room is less welcome as that one single word hangs over the two of you like a storm cloud threatening a downpour. The way Theo’s mind runs a million kilometers a second makes it so deafening. He can see the conflict on your face as you consider what needs to be done. The downward cast of your sleep stained eyes and the way you curl your lip in thought makes him want to burn the entire Order to the ground so he doesn’t have to even consider losing you.

He sucks in through his nose as the hand on his knee clenches tightly into a fist.

When your eyes drift back up to meet his, matching resolve in your expression, Theo has to swallow down the urge to cry.

“When?”

His nails dig into his palm.

“Mattheo’s going to take you once you’re ready.”

A frown crosses over your face.

“You're not going?”

Theo can’t recall another time in his life where he’s felt as broken as he does now, looking into your sad stricken and confused eyes.

He’s losing you again.

“I can’t.” He swallows the lump in his throat that makes his words come out choked. “I… I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He lets the rest of his thoughts remain left unsaid. That he would kill them before they could even leave the area with you. That he’d kill every last one of them for taking the only good thing he’d had during this god forsaken war. The entire reason he had broken his loyalties to the Dark Lord in an attempt to put it to an end.

And now, he has to watch you leave him.

Again.

Anguish and surprise conflict your face, making him take your hand in his and hold it tightly.

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” The desperation in his voice is so palpable that you can feel it bleeding onto the skin of your fingertips. Theo’s eyes never leave yours. “I’ll finish this. For you. For us.”

You fill the spaces between his fingers with your own.

You haven’t even left yet, but Theo begins to dread the ghost of your touch that will be left behind once you are. It’s a feeling he knows too intimately.

“What if we lose?” You ask him in a soft whisper. “Or what if one of us doesn’t make it?”

The air leaves Theo’s lungs, evaporating from the heat of your words.

He wants to dig a bunker and hide you in it, keeping you far away from the sins of the war and the pain of ever leaving his side. He wants to blow up the world and watch from space with you on his arm. He wants to do anything, literally anything that would take away the hurt in your eyes.

Images of the many ways he wishes to kill the Dark Lord and end this devastation flash through his mind.

“I need you to hear me when I say this,” Theo says in a slow tone. “I will do whatever it takes to ensure my return to you. Even if that means I have to blow through the gates of hell myself and crawl out of my grave. Make no bloody mistake. I will come back for you.”

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #golden trio era #golden trio era fanfiction #.txt

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dracoxsworld · 1 year

Text

Reunited. - Harry Potter x Reader

Warnings: Oral both f and m receiving, teasing, dom harry, p in v etc.

a/n: Of COURSE I had to write about my boy harry again.

EDIT: Typos :/

3 months.

It has been 3 months since you’ve seen Harry. You couldn’t even write to each other because of his muggle family being extremely against anything to do with your world, but none of that matters now. You arrive to the Weasley’s burrow, with your trunks and suitcases full of school supplies, robes and clothes for your upcoming school year at Hogwarts.

“Y/N? Is that you?” A girl with bushy brown hair asks, coming out of the burrow. “Hermione!” You exclaim, dropping your luggage and running into her arms. You both squeal in your hug.

“How’ve you been? How was your summer?” You friend asks as you both walk back to your luggage you had left. “It was great! Mum and dad were of course, busy all the time. So I had a lot of me time. How was yours?” You asked.

“It was fun, I got to study for our O.W.L.S all summer! I should’ve started before our last year ended, though.” Hermione chuckles nervously.

“Hermione, we don’t take out OWLs until the end of the year,” You said. “Yes, but this is the most important test we will ever take! I have to study, if I don’t study, I’ll fail, if I fail, I won’t graduate. If I don’t graduate I won’t-“ “Hermione!” You interrupt her, turning towards you, dropping your bags once again to put your hands on her shoulders. “You are the smartest witch I know. You will probably get the highest grade,” Hermione takes a big deep breath of relief, ending with a smile. “Thanks y/n.”

You and Hermione enter the burrow, Mrs.Weasley sees you immediately and gasps. “Miss. l/n!” She runs to you immediately just like you ran to Hermione, and pulls you into a tight hug. You talked about your summer with Mrs.Weasley while greeting the other Weasley family members. Ron comes up to you and ruffled your hair before pulling you into a tight hug. “What do you reckon we okay a quick game of quidditch while you’re here? I’ve been getting better.” Ron says during the hug

“Ron, I told you to start studying for your O.W.L’s!” Hermione exclaims disapprovingly. “Relax, ‘mione. I’ve got loads of time, I haven’t seen y/n for months!” Ron says, wrapping his arm around her, she gives him another disapproving look but dropped the subject, her frown turning into a smile.

“So where’s Harry?” You ask anxiously. “He’s not here yet, dear. I believe he’s going to be here any minute.” Mrs. Weasley says, putting a roast in the oven with a flick of her wand. As if you summoned him simply by saying his name, you guys here a CRACK outside the front door. You all pile towards the door, looking out the window. There you see the boy who lived, with his black messy hair, round glasses, and green eyes. Despite a group of people looking at him for his arrival, his eye’s immediately land on you; he smiles, ear to ear, through the window.

“Open the bloody door, Ron!” Hermione exclaims, motioning towards you. “Alright alright!” Ron buffs. Ron opens the door and Mrs.Weasley squeals as she engulfs Harry in her arms. “Oh my boy!” She exclaims swinging Harry back and forth. “It’s always good to see you Mrs.Weasley” Harry says with a strained voice, as he’s being squeezed in the hug.

“It’s like we’re not even here.” Ron jokes, nudging George. “We’re not the chosen one, mate.” George respond, laughing softly.

Each person takes turns greeting Harry, leaving you for last. He finally turns to you after shaking Fred’s hand, his eyes instantly brighten up, and a bigger smile grows on his face. He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. He plants kisses all over your cheek. You giggle from it tickling, and he lets you down. “Hi,” you say simply. “I’ve missed you.” You added. “I’ve missed you too, you have no idea.” Harry responds. He ticks your hair behind your ear and kisses your cheek, whispering “I’ll show you how much I’ve missed you later.” Causing your cheeks to quickly turn into a rose color. Luckily, Harry seemed to be the only one to notice.

The rest of the night consisted of catching up, each of you talking about your summer, Harry’s being quick and simple of which him saying “Just waited on when it would end.”

Hermione went on another O.W.L’s tangent. After her vent, everyone head off for bed. You made your way to Ginny’s room, where you had set your luggage, until you felt a hand on your arm, you turn around to see Harry. He put a finger up to his lips, and you nodded, his hand slid into yours, guiding you into the guest bedroom the Weasley’s had set up for Harry. He led you into his room.

Once you both had entered, he placed his hand on the door behind you, and pushed it shut. He stood in front of you, stretching his arm with the palm of his hand still against the door. His green eyes looked down on you, scanning your body. You felt your cheeks go hot instantly.

“I have missed you. So much.” Harry begins. He leaned down to the crook of your neck, softly kissing you, up your neck to behind your ear. “God Harry, I- I missed you too.” you whine. Goosebumps form on your arm making the hair stand up. Your hand reached to the back of his head, gripping his hair, causing him to grunt in your ear. “Already moaning for me, baby?” His hand leaves the door and lands on your waist.

“On the bed, baby.” he says into your ear, slightly pulling you away from the door, before pushing you lightly towards the bed.

You sit in the bed and lean back, holding yourself up on your elbows. Harry steps between your legs, hanging off of the twin sized bed. He gets on the bed to where he’s above you, leans down to kiss you. It starts out slow, and soft. “God Harry, I’ve missed you.” You mumble in the kiss. “What’ve ‘ye missed ‘bout me?” Harry mumbles back, between kisses. “Everything. Your hands,” You begin to list things off you missed about him. All the things you’ve longed for the past 3 months. You stop the kiss and grab his hand.

“Your lips,” you continue, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him down to kiss you again.

“God; your hair.” You whine, running your hands through his messy hair, even messier from your hands gripping it just a few moments ago. Harry stares at you with eyes full of hunger. He picks up his wand that was in the bedside table. (That was really an old box) “Muffliato.” he said quietly; keeping his eye contact on you. You loved that spell, mostly because you knew what was going to happen after it was cast.

Harry immediately leans down, attacking you neck with bites, and kisses. His hands fly down to the hem of your shirt, raising it up, and quickly breaking the contact of his lips from your neck to pull the shirt over your head.

To his surprise, you prepared for this, wearing a dark red lace bra. “Oh my fucking god, y/n.” Harry groaned out. You smile up at him, blushing again. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Holy fuck.” Harry stammers out, running his hands up your stomach to your chest, squeezing your tits, one in each hand. You moan at the feeling. He leans down again, this time his attack aimed at your lips. Your hands sneak down from his hair to the button of his jeans, unbuttoning it. “Oh ‘yer excited?” Harry says, again between hungry kisses. “Harry please-“ you whine.

“Be patient, baby. You’ve waited 3 months and have done great so far.” Harry coos. “But go ahead.” he added, sitting back up straight, letting you continue to take off his pants, seeing his hard cock in his boxers. He pulls down yours, revealing your matching panties to your bra. “You’re kidding, so filthy.” Harry scoffs, practically ripping the remaining little clothing you had on your body off.

You tried to reach your hands to the hem of his boxers, but he quickly grabbed your wrist and shook his head. “Be a good girl, and wait.” Harry scolds you. You pout your bottom lip. Harry’s fingers run down to your lower stomach, causing goosebumps to once again appear on your arms. Your pussy was already so wet from him just kissing you, his fingers lightly touch you and you whine.

“So wet for me baby, god you’re perfect.” Harry says, looking down at your sex on his fingers, glistening in the light. You watch as Harry lean down inbetween your legs. You buck your hips up towards his face, wanting him now. “Baby; you have to be patient. Be a good girl, or I’ll have to stop.” You moan in response, trying you best to keep your hips still now. After a moment; Harry leans back down, and you feel his tongue in-between your folds, slowly licking up your liquids. Your hands tug at his hair.

Harry hums as he licks you up, causing vibration against your heat, warning another moan from you. “Harry!” You yell, slapping your hand to your mouth not wanting to wake anyone. Harry immediately stops and looks up at you. “No one other than me is going to here you, Angel. Scream my name.” Harry demands, going back down on you, now using you like a toy on his tongue, pumping it in and out of you, while licking your clit every now and then.

Your moans grow louder. “Harry! Please.” you beg. “Pleas what princess?” Harry asks, still down by your heat, kitten licks on your clit. “Let me cum, please Harry. Let me make a mess, please.” You cry, tears forming in your eyes from your desperation of pleasure.

“As you wish.” He smirks, finally giving you the pressure and pace you needed. You finally release, you feel your hot juices leave your used and sensitive hole, you feel your thighs squeezing his head. His hands can wrap around your thighs, squeezing them as he licks up your cum. You squirm from you being sensitive, but still love the feeling. You quickly sit up, hands rushing to the hem of his boxers. “Can’t even wait for me, baby.” Harry chuckles down at you, pulling down his boxers.

His cock sprang free, leaking with precum. You wrap your hand around, slowly stroking your hand up an down his cock, your thumb running over his slit, covered with precum. He groans in response. You quickly switched, now he was sitting on the bed, you were on your knees in front of him. You quickly took his cock into your mouth, using your hand to steady it. Your tongue lapped over his tip, earning a groan from him. “God. Your mouth is so fucking perfect.” You suck up and down his cock, hearing him groan and moan your name.

You bob your head up and down faster and faster, eyes shut tightly to focus on not gagging, as you can feel his dick hit the back of your throat, leaving precum dripping down as a treat.

“Eyes on me.” Harry demanded, yanking your attention up by pulling your hair. You moan in response.

“Fuck baby. You’re so good to me. God I have fucking missed you. You’re so perfect for me.” Harry moans out. You yourself moan at his words. His dick twitches in your mouth. It’s red, angry, and full. Your eyes innocently look up at him, humming as you suck his dick. With a few more licks across his tip, and a few more hums from you, he spills into your mouth, some landing on your chest, to which he yells out your name. Your tongue catches some of his cum, swallowing it like the angel you are.

“Fuck. Baby, come here.” Harry says, motioning his hand to come up on his lap. You oblige happily, straddling yourself above him. Harry handles his dick underneath you, and grabs your hips, lowering you down on his cock. Harry continues to groan out, as you moan his name. You slowly bounce up and down in his dick, your tits moving up and down as you do so.

“Harry, fuck.” you moan, but don’t stop. “You’re so tight, y/n. Such a perfect angel for me. So wet.” He groans. “You’re mine. Do you fucking understand?” Harry says, his hands slapping your ass as you continue to bounce on his cock. “y-yes harry, all yours.” You respond, seeing his green eyes go almost black, full of lust. “That’s right. Keep your eyes on me.” Harry demands. “My fucking slut. Does my slut want me to cum inside you?” Harry asks in a raspy voice, hands on your hips slamming you down on his cock. “P-lease cum inside me..” You beg, feeling the knot in your stomach grow. “That’s it. Take it angel. Take it.” Harry groans. He finally releases inside of you, and you release on his cock, both of you moaning the loudest this time, each others names. “Fuck y/n.” Harry moans, pulling you off his cock, covered in a mixture of both of your cum. “I’ve really missed you.” You say, looking down at the mess you’ve both made, then innocently looking down at him. “Round two tomorrow morning, before we leave for school?” harry asks, reaching over for a tissue to wipe off his release still on your tits. “sounds like a plan.” you agree, blushing harder.

#harry potter #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter masterlist #hp x reader #harry potter fanfic smut #hp smut #hp x reader smut #potter

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boxwright · 1 year

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Iron Butterfly - Ron Bushy

#iron butterfly #doug ingle #ron bushy

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jt1674 · 7 months

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#iron butterfly #metamorphosis #doug ingle #mike pinera #ron bushy #lee dorman #larry reinhardt

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sergeantbuckybarnes · 1 year

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sweet nothing // george weasley

Summary: You’ve had a crush on George for a while, but he doesn’t seem to notice you… until he does. He can’t take his eyes off of you, and Fred can’t help but tease his brother.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: lots of fluff

A/N: As always remember English is not my first language. Thanks to @the-toad-in-your-piano for proofreading this!

This was requested by @little-sparklesstuff hope you like it!

main masterlist

You met Hermione last year. Even though you were in the same year, the same house, and shared some classes together, you never really had a proper conversation with the bushy-haired girl.

You both reached for the same book at the library one day, which struck up a conversation about your favorite authors. You quickly discovered you had a lot in common.

Hermione soon introduced you to Ron and Harry and the four of you became inseparable.

If asked what they liked best about you, the three of them would unanimously say your upbeat personality. You always saw the bright side of everything, which is something not everyone can say. You were generous, funny, and had a charming laugh that drew accolades.

Your friends loved having you around.

As you were sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard, you let out a loud laugh at something Ron said. Your laughter drew the attention of George, who was passing by with Fred at his side. He came to a halt and looked at you, watching as you flung back your head and laughed heartily. He felt his heart skip a beat. He’d seen you around the castle before, hanging out with his little brother and his friends, but never really paid much attention to you until now.

“Who's that?” George inquired, nodding towards you.

Fred followed his brother's gaze to the group of Gryffindors. “That's Y/N,” Fred replied. “She's been friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione for ages.”

George couldn't take his eyes off you as you continued laughing with your friends.

“I know that look,” Fred teased, a sly grin etched on his face. “You're smitten with her.”

“Shut up, Fred.”

“You're staring so hard at her I'm worried she might catch on fire!" Fred said with a chuckle.

On the other side of the courtyard, once your laughter had died down, Hermione nudged your arm. “Looks like you've got an admirer,” she teased.

You frowned, but she gave you a subtle signal to look to your right. You turned around to see George Weasley standing in the middle of the courtyard, his gaze riveted on you. Fred, who was next to him, whispered something in his ear and he blushed furiously. George shook his head, diverting his gaze away from you and walking with his twin to his next class.

You rolled your eyes at Hermione’s remark, but you couldn't help but be flattered by George's attention. You had harbored a crush on the younger twin for months now, but you were wise enough to realize he'd never be interested in you, so you didn't get your hopes up. But now that you'd caught him looking at you, something inside of you had shifted.

George couldn't take his eyes off of you. He had been silently admiring you from across the Common Room for the past half hour. He was so absorbed in his admiration that he didn't notice when Fred approached him.

“If you keep staring at her like that, she's going to think you're a creepy stalker,” Fred teased.

George snapped out of his daydream and blushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, I got lost in thought,” he admitted.

Fred grinned mischievously. “Lost in thoughts about Y/N, huh? Don't worry, mate, I won't tell anyone.”

George rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Fred.”

Fred nudged him with his elbow. “Come on, man, just go talk to her already. You've been staring for what feels like an eternity.”

George took a deep breath and summoned up all his courage. He walked over to you, his heart racing faster than it ever had before.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What are you reading?”

You raised your head from your book and smiled at him. “Oh, hi, George! It's a romance novel.”

“Romance? Interesting,” he teased. “Well, if I may ask, what's it about?”

You giggled and held up the cover of the book so George could read it himself.

“Pride and Prejudice. It doesn’t ring a bell.”

You chuckled. “It’s a Muggle book. Hermione recommended it to me.”

“Is it any good?” George inquired.

“It’s really good. You should read it sometime,” you suggested, closing the book and placing it on the table next to you. You knew he wouldn't; George Weasley had no interest in reading. He preferred Quidditch and the pranks he and Fred played on Filch.

George smiled at you and took a seat next to you. “Maybe I will.”

You laughed. “I highly doubt that. You're not exactly a bookworm, George.”

George rolled his eyes with a playful smile. “I can be if I want to be.”

“Sure, George. You keep telling yourself that,” you said jokingly.

George's heart skipped a beat at the sound of your laugh. He couldn't help but admire you even more.

“How come this is the first time we are talking?” He dared to ask.

You shrugged. “Well, you tell me. I’ve been friends with your little brother for over a year now, you just never paid attention to me.” Even if your words pricked your heart, they were not malicious. You couldn’t blame the boy for not noticing you, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued by his sudden interest in you.

“Not very smart on my part. It’s not like me to not notice a pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Of course it is,” George said, flashing you a grin. “I mean, look at you.”

Your cheeks burned, feeling a bit flustered. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So, what do you say we get to know each other a bit better?” George asked, feeling a surge of confidence. Even if he was acting his regular lively, flirtatious self, he was still a nervous wreck around you.

You smiled. “I'd like that.”

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students bustled about, filling their plates with steaming hot food and chatting with their friends. Amidst the chaos, George wormed his way through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Since that day in the Common Room, the younger twin had been trying to find any moment of the day and any excuse to spend time with you. After a few seconds, he finally spotted you at the Gryffindor table sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Fred nudged him playfully. “There she is, go talk to her.”

Taking a deep breath, he walked towards you. “Hey, Y/N, mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the empty space next to you. He hoped his voice didn't betray his nervousness.

“Of course not, George. It's nice to have some company,” you replied, smiling warmly at him.

George settled into his seat next to you, joining in on the conversation. But his eyes kept stealing glances at you and Hermione couldn't help but notice. She nudged Ron. “Look at George. He's clearly smitten with her.”

Ron shrugged as he looked across at George and you. “I don't see it.”

In contrast, Fred, who was well aware of his twin's crush on you, decided to speak up. “Come on, Georgie, stop staring at Y/N like that. It's making everyone uncomfortable.”

George's face turned bright red with embarrassment and he quickly looked down at his food, muttering an apology.

“Don't worry about it, George,” you said, placing a hand on his arm and giving him a reassuring smile. “It's not a big deal.”

Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances, still clueless about what was going on.

Fred grinned mischievously and resolved to further embarrass his brother. “You know, Y/N, George here has been talking about you non-stop.”

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Is that so?”

George stammered and tried to deny it but Fred wouldn't let him off the hook. “Oh yes, he's got it bad for you.”

To George's surprise, you didn't seem put off by this at all. In fact, you smiled even wider and turned your attention solely on him.

“Really, now?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at George.

George cleared his throat, “I mean... you're just... interesting to look at.”

You chuckled. “Well, I'm glad I can provide some entertainment.”

You and Hermione were sitting on your bed in your shared dormitory. Hermione had a serious look on her face while you fidgeted nervously with the edge of your blanket.

“You have to listen to me, Y/N,” Hermione said firmly. “George likes you. I've seen the way he looks at you.”

You shrugged. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Don't be silly, Y/N. It's so obvious. He smiles whenever you're around, and he always finds a way to be close to you.”

“You think so?” you asked, your heart racing.

“Yes, I do. And I think you should do something about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, don't just sit around and wait for him to make a move. You should talk to him.”

You wanted to believe Hermione’s words. You really wanted to. But you had been harboring a crush on George for a while now. He barely had acknowledged your existence until two months ago and you were still unsure what provoked the sudden attention.

So many things were happening at the same time. You had a fragile heart, and you didn’t want it to be broken by making up things in your head. Yes, you had noticed George’s lingering stares, and you were pretty aware of the compliments he gave you, but that was just George being George. He was just flirty. You didn’t think any of it.

“He's never given me any indication that he likes me in a romantic way,” you argued, still unsure of what to believe.

“You don't need him to come outright and confess his feelings to you. Sometimes actions speak louder than words,” Hermione replied, crossing her arms.

You sighed deeply, thinking about what Hermione had just said. “I guess you have a point,” you said finally, looking up at your friend, “But what if I'm wrong and it turns out he doesn't like me? I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“That's a risk worth taking, don't you think?” Hermione said with a warm smile. “You’d never know unless you try.”

George had been rehearsing his words in his head for the past few days, trying to find the perfect way to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with him. But every time he tried to work up the courage, his nerves got the best of him. When he saw you walking down the hall, your books clutched to your chest, his palms began to sweat and his heart raced. He knew it was now or never.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound calm but feeling a lump forming in his throat.

“Oh, hey, George!” You smiled at him and he felt his knees buckle.

George fidgeted with his hands. “I was wondering... um... you know the Yule Ball is coming up and I was wondering if... if you would like to go with me?” he stuttered, feeling like he was going to pass out any minute.

Your face lit up, and you could feel your heart beating so fast in your chest.

Was Hermione right? Did George like you?

You were hoping he would ask. The conversation with Hermione had given you hope— hope that you may have a chance with him. You had even turned down two Hufflepuff boys who had asked you a few days before because you wanted George to ask you.

If the dance had taken place last year, you would not have considered the possibility of George asking you. Never in a million years. But you had caught his attention, and now it was happening, George Weasley was right in front of you, asking you to be his date to the Christmas Ball, and you were so overjoyed that you felt as if you were touching the sky with your bare hands.

“I’d love to go with you, George!”

George let out a sigh of relief and smiled, feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. “Great!” he exclaimed. “I was so nervous to ask you," he admitted, feeling embarrassed.

“Don't be silly, George. You're a great guy. There's no one else I'd rather go with than you.” You grinned at him, and he felt his heart swell with happiness.

George had never considered himself to be a lucky person. But that moment, as you strolled down the corridor together, he felt he was the luckiest bloke in the whole Wizarding World. He couldn't keep his eyes off from you, admiring every line of your features. You were beyond gorgeous. He chastised himself for failing to notice earlier. His thoughts turned to the Yule Ball; he has never been a big dancer, but he would be lying if he claimed he wasn't looking forward to it.

He knew it was going to be a memorable night. And, if he played his cards correctly, that night could be the start of much more.

George stood by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, tapping his foot anxiously on the rug. The Yule Ball's night had finally arrived. He had been patiently waiting for you to come down from your dormitory. He still couldn't believe how lucky he was to be going to the ball with you.

He finally turned around when he heard footsteps on the stairs and saw you descending. You looked stunning in your silver gown that glistened in the light. George’s heart skipped a beat and couldn't help but gape at you.

“What?” you asked.

“You look… incredible,” George stammered.

You flushed, feeling your heart race at the compliment. “Thank you, George,” you said, smiling shyly. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“So, are you ready for tonight?” George asked, clearing his throat, trying to push his anxieties away.

“I think so,” you said. “I'm a little nervous, though.”

“Why?”

“I just don't want to embarrass myself on the dance floor.”

"You won't,” George assured you. "And if you do, we can always blame it on me.”

The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland for the Yule Ball. The enchanted ceiling twinkled like a starry sky, casting an ethereal glow on the dance floor.

“May I have this dance?” George asked, holding out his hand.

You just smiled and clasped his hand in yours. You laid your head on George's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You swayed softly to the beat of the music.

As you danced, George felt an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment. This was where he belonged: with you by his side.

Suddenly, Fred appeared out of nowhere, wearing a mischievous grin on his face. “I just wanted to say hello to my favorite couple,” he said slyly, winking at you.

You giggled nervously, feeling your cheeks grow even hotter. As Fred disappeared back into the crowd, George drew you closer to him.

“You know he's just teasing you right?” he said reassuringly.

You smiled up at him. “I know.”

As you continued dancing together, George leaned in close and said, “You know, I've been thinking a lot about us lately.”

Your heart raced with anticipation, wondering where this conversation was headed. “What have you been thinking about?” you softly inquired.

George nodded and took a deep breath before continuing. “I know we've only really known each other for a few months, and that you’re my brother’s friend, but I can't help how I feel whenever I'm around you.”

“And how do you feel?” you asked, your voice gentle.

George's heart was pounding in his chest as he spoke. “I feel like I can't breathe when I'm not with you. You make me laugh, you make me happy, and I just feel this overwhelming sense of... something. Something that I haven't felt with anyone else before.”

Your heart swelled with warmth and happiness as you listened to George pour his heart out. Hearing him utter things you never thought you'd hear him say, at least not directed at you.

“I like you too, George. I've been trying to hide it, but I can't help the way I feel around you either.”

George's heart leapt with joy at your words. “Really?”

You nodded and he smiled wider.

You continued dancing, holding onto each other closely as you enjoyed the night together. It was a moment you would always cherish.

You and George walked through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, your hands tightly intertwined. As you approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she swung open upon seeing you.

“Welcome back, lovebirds,” she sang out.

The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet. Most of the students had already retired to their dormitories. The only sound was the crackling of the fireplace.

“Thanks for such an amazing night, George,” you said, beaming at him.

“It was my pleasure,” George replied, his face splitting into a goofy grin.

There was a moment of silence as you stared at each other, unsure of what to say next. Feeling bold, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his warm lips before turning away towards the stairs leading to your dormitory. As you headed up the stairs, you turned back and winked at him playfully.

“Sweet dreams, Georgie.”

George stood there rooted to the spot with beet-red cheeks and an ear-to-ear grin on his face, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He felt like he was walking on air as he made his way up to his dormitory.

As he lay down on his bed with a goofy grin still plastered across his face, Fred turned over from his own bed to face him.

“So?” Fred asked with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How'd it go?”

George chuckled softly to himself before winking at Fred and replied, “I'm pretty sure I'm officially whipped.”

Fred laughed out loud before falling back onto his pillow as George smiled dreamily into the darkness around them, feeling like he had finally found magic beyond measure: love.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fic #fred and george weasley #harry potter imagine

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eunoiathewriter · 2 years

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.☼︎. 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫; 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦

— Mattheo Riddle x Reader

— Summary: Years later. Sixth year has started but what started as a calm week turns strange when Harry comes into the Great Hall all bloodied down and soon after cones Mattheo Riddle, in the same state as Harry?

— Word Count: 2.4k

— Prologue

— A/N: This is Chapter one to my new Wattpad book that I've just started. My Wattpad is @/eunoiathewriter on there too and the name of the book is "Alwasy, Forever"

For the past hour and half, y/n had been standing in a window of the hallway down by the courtyard. Why? Well, it just was absolutely hilarious to watch the first years try to make their way towards the Great Hall for dinner, only to walk in the wrong direction. It had over the six years she'd spent at Hogwarts become something she found funny. Or, to be honest, she did not really start the tradition before third year when she had spotted Fred and Gerorge Weasley doing it.

y/n had simply asked the twins what in the world they had been doing only for the older boys to help her into the open window towards the courtyard. Telling her to just watch the first years wander around in pure chaos with McGonagall in the middle of it, yelling out directions and just making sure students knew their way about.

But the fun had ended when almost all the first years had understood in which direction the Great Hall was in and made their way there. That was how she now sat in the Great Hall among all the other Gryffindor students, picking at her food. Quite bored.

It seemed that every year the first year students would shoot glances at the quartet from the red and golden house. Of course having heard of the boy with a lightning scar gracing his face and his three friends that always seemed to be in the middle of it all.

So the looks from younger students no longer affected them as Ron kept eating on without batting an eyelash at them. Hermione had just finished looking around as if she was looking for somebody.

y/n sighed as she took a last bite of her chicken, pushing the rest on her plate to Ron who accepted what she hadn't touched. "Do you guys think this year will be chaotic too?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was the case," Ron answered the h/c girl from his side of the table.

"I guess I would be more worried if something didn't happen than if something does happen." y/n said and Ron nodded along before going back to his plate with food.

Hermione turned back to the table with a deep frown creasing her forehead. It catches the attention of y/n as she looks at the bushy haired girl with a questioning look. "What is wrong, Mione?"

Of course, many things were wrong for her. Lavender and Ron seemed to have a thing going on, something that was shocking for it only being the first four days of school. Hermione was also constantly worrying for her muggle parents' safety with all that was going on.

"Do you know where Harry is, y/n?" It made the e/c eyed girl stop and think. No she didn't.

"No, I haven't seen him since potions earlier."

Hermione sighed as she glanced around the Great Hall again only to not see the raven-haired boy anywhere. Looking back at y/n, she shrugged her shoulders, but it was obvious in Hermione's eyes that she was quite worried for Harry.

Ron, however, continued eating and aimlessly looking around like nothing was wrong and that clearly didn't sit correct with Hermione. She picked up her potions book that had laid beside her and hit his shoulder, between every hit she said:

"Why," Hit. "Are" Hit. "You" Hit. "Not" Hit "Worried?!"

It made y/n almost wanna laugh, as Ron just turned to her with questioning eyes, then flickering over Hermione's shoulder as he seemed to spot something. Hermione's brows were still furrowed as she stopped her little outburst. Ron seems to think of a way to tell her off without angering her even more.

"Because he's right there, you lunatic!" Ron swallowed and motioned towards the Great Hall's entrance.

Hermione turned quickly, y/n following suit as she was just wondering where the boy had been. But as they turned, something was off.

Harry walked with his head down slightly, holding something up to his nose. As he passed some other students he got a few side glances. When y/n really focused she could without hesitation day that he was bleeding, whatever he pressed to his nose was bloodied down and his white dressed shirt had quite a few red blotches on it.

"What happened to him?" Hermione leaned over the table to see better.

"Why is he bleeding?" y/n turned and casted a slightly worried eye to her two friends.

Harry still kept his eyes low so as to not get any unwanted attention on himself even though that mission had failed, poorly. He let out an annoyed grunt as he sat down on the empty seat next to y/n, still pressing the cloth to his bleeding nose.

"What happens to your face?!" Hermione's overly protective side immediately came out just as he sat down at the table. "Who did that to you?"

Ron did not exactly look worried, he almost looked kinda proud as it seemed Harry was not as hurt as he could have been if he had now been fighting someone. y/n was inspecting his face from where she sat beside him, trying to just make sure that it was no more than a nosebleed. Eyes looking for already forming bruises, swelling, just anything that could indicate he should go to Madame Pomfrey.

"Does that honestly matter, Hermione?" Harry asked with an agitated tone of voice, picking up the goblet in front of him with water and taking a sip. Momentarily removing the cloth from his nose.

y/n was quick however as she reached over to take the cloth and hold it for him. Not the least affected by the red blood covering it.

"You disappeared without a word for almost two hours!" Hermione hissed at him.

"It's no use, Mione, he won't tell." Harry was happy that y/n had that little extra understanding for him. She knew when to stop pushing things and when he just would not tell any more.

Hermione shrank back into the seat with a sigh and started to flip through her potions book, trying to find the page with the homework for next week so she could already know the questions and then do it later. Ron had only stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder before he sat down and went back to eating and reading the Daily Prophet that laid on the table.

"Here, fighter." y/n joked as she pressed the cloth gently to Harry's nose again, having noticed a little blood starting to trickle down again.

It took the green-eyed boy by surprise as the cloth met his nose once more, eyes moving over to see y/n just sitting there with that gentle and sweet smile felt. He did not know why he had done what he did, it was not like him to be so impulsive. But it was just something about the way he had heard him, Mattheo Riddle, tell that no way in hell would he walk up and ask y/n to hang out.

Over the summer months, Harry had been thinking long and hard about things. For five years he had been close friends with y/n. Five years of adventure. Five years of laughter. Five years of a friend that understood him better than he almost understood himself. He was far from sure exactly how he felt for her, but he cared for her more than many others. He felt the need to make sure she would not be put in dangerous situations. That was where he had started to think that maybe... just maybe it wasn't friendship he felt between them. But how could he be so sure, him, Harry James Potter, the boy who never really knew his own feelings towards things and people.

y/n noticed the way it looked as though he was deep in thought, it caused a bigger smile pull on her face. Harry always looked a bit funny to her when he was thinking. She shook her head a little at him and carefully removed the cloth from his face to see if the bleeding had stopped, which made Harry snap out of his deep thinking.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No it's fine," Harry gave a tight-lipped smile to the Whittier girl as he took the cloth from her. "Thanks,"

"Good, it no problem— Bloody hell!" y/n moved her head so she could see better, her eyes had gone a bit wide, mouth slightly agape as she looked shocked behind Harry.

Her exclamation had made not only Harry, Ron and Hermione look as with confused faces but those who sat close to them too. That being Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, a few older students and some from the Hufflepuff table.

"What?" Ron was clearly quite perplexed at the sudden outburst from the usually calm girl. Looking around to try and spot what she saw.

"I think I found the other fighter." y/n nodded behind Ron and Hermione who sat with their backs towards the entrance of the Great Hall. "Look behind you."

And as they turned, sure enough, there he was. Mattheo Riddle has just entered the Great Hall and clearly noticed the quartet looking at him. His face was bloodiest down, blood under his nose drying and a scratch across his nose that was bleeding. Just like Harry's uniform, Mattheos were also bloodied down.

Harry glanced at the boy who he had a problem with ever since starting at Hogwarts. Sure, Mattheo was the son of the man who took Harry's parents from him but it still was strange as to how much he disliked him. Mattheo had never really done anything and was probably the least problematic of the Slytherin gang.

y/n could see Mattheo glare at Harry before he rolled his eyes and walked over towards his friends at the silver and green table. Clearly not bothered by the looks he got from other students. All of their looks different. Some were judgmental, as if they knew this was truly who he was. Some wondered since when he got physical with someone as Mattheo was more a verbal person than physical person. Some seemed intrigued, mostly the first years who were interested in all the older students.

"You fought Mattheo Riddle?! Are you mad? " Hermione leaned over the table with a baffled face but her eyes were stern on Harry.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."

"My question is why?" y/n cut in either wide eyes as she turned to Harry and awaited his answer. The boy only opened his mouth as if to tell her something, but after a second thought he closed his mouth and only looked at her. Quiet, not answering her question.

Not getting a response from Harry was something she never really got. Therefore not getting one made her shake her head and just turn away from him with an exasperated expression. Hearing the bickering between Harry and Hermione continuing and Ron chiming in at certain times only to then let out a yelp when Hermione smacked him with her book.

She then turned, upper body rotating so she could see behind her over towards the other side of the hall. She had the luck of no Hufflepuffs sitting right behind her so she could see over towards the Slytherin table better. But as she spotted the person she had been turning to see she noticed his dark brown eyes already fixated on her.

Mattheo didn't listen to his friends who were all asking to know how he ended up looking the way he did. Only pulling his arm away when Pansy grabbed it and tried to hold his hand. Not in the mood.

His eyes stayed focused on y/n as she had turned. She, unlike many others, looked at him with just a perplexed face and not one of hate. As if she were only trying to figure out what had gone down. Mattheos stare was broken however by Theodore Nott, his elbow meeting his ribs.

"The hell do you want?" Mattheo turned to Theodore who held up his hands in retreat and shook his head.

"You know, we're just checking in on our best mate, who looks like he lost by the way." Theodore sarcastically commented ro Mattheo who took a last glance at y/n, seeing her turn at Ron saying something.

"What the hell happened to you mate?" Blaise asked from the other side of the table.

Mattheo only shook his head and picked up his goblet to take a sip of water. Pansy turned so she sat faced fully towards Mattheo and looked him over. "Honestly, I don't remember your ever being someone to become physical when mad,"

"Maybe that's because no one gives me a reason to." Mattheo rolled his eyes at the dark haired girl, not seeing the look she pulled as she turned back to Daphne Greengrass.

"No but seriously, mate, was it you and Potter? He walked in not looking much better, although he still looked better than you." Enzo said from beside the sulking platinum blonde of the group.

Mattheo didn't answer and only continued picking out what he wanted to eat. For six, almost seven years he had known who she was. He remembered her as if they were nine just yesterday and he asked her about her book. Every day after that, he thought of her and just how sweet she was. Many times he had run off from the boys home to try and see if she were there, but he never saw her again.

Not until he saw her standing next to a bushy haired girl at the age of eleven. Only, when he introduced himself to her as they walked into the Great Hall and he happened to walk next to her, she only smiled and told her name to him. No recognition, but maybe that would hit her later. But it never did.

"Did it have with Wittiher to do?" Blaise then hit his head on the nail, causing Mattheo to stop and click his tongue.

"Maybe."

"Are you actually gonna do shit about that little crush of yours on her or just sit around this year too?"

Enzo got no answer, but Mattheo was sure as hell not about to not do anything. That he was sure of.

2K notes · View notes

im-a-wonderling · 2 years

Text

Seven Years of Bad Luck ~ George Weasley

Summary: The golden trio needs Y/N’s help, but George hates his wife being in danger

Warnings: none that I can think of? Let me know if there should be!

Word count: 6.3k

Y’all I’m so proud of the way this turned out, so I hope you like it!

“Absolutely not!” George Weasley leapt to his feet from his charcoal gray couch, glaring at Harry Potter with a fiery look in his eyes that rivaled the brilliant shade of his hair.

“Why not?” Harry argued, also getting to his feet. “This is life and death!”

“We wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t,” Ron cut in, and Hermione nodded.

George scowled, far from convinced. “Look, Harry, I get that this is important “chosen one” business, and I am happy to see the three of you are still alive, but you’re not dragging Y/N into your top-secret mission. She’s a person, not a tool.”

“I know that,” Harry replied defensively.

“And yet,” George said hotly, his hand gestures getting more and more animated, “you’re here in my living room at three o’clock in the morning to ask Y/N to use her powers when you know how that affects her!” He rubbed his forehead. “How did you guys even find this house? It’s been charmed to high heaven!”

Ron and Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged. “You’re trying so hard to keep You-Know-Who out, it doesn’t seem to matter who else slips in.”

George rolled his eyes. Sometimes the young witch was too bright for her own good. “Well, if you found your way in, it means you can find your way out again.”

“But we have to talk to Y/N!” Harry protested.

George folded his arms stubbornly. “You’re not going to.”

“Surely there’s no harm in at least asking for her help,” Ron said, and George immediately rounded on him.

“You know as well as I do that she can never say no to anyone, even if it kills her.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Hermione replied in her know-it-all voice. “No one’s ever died while attempting catoptromancy.”

George glared at the bushy-haired witch, who shrank into his brother’s side, looking terrified. “Maybe they haven’t died, but they have lost their minds. When Y/N and I first moved here, I had to remove every mirror in this house before she’d even step foot inside.”

“Please?” Harry begged. “It’s very important.” From behind Harry, Ron nodded gravely.

George’s nostrils flared, giving the impression he was a wild bull about to charge. “Do you mind telling me exactly what is so important that you’re willing to force my wife into insanity?”

Harry glanced uneasily at his best friends, and George didn’t like their solemn expressions.

“We…erm…” Ron trailed off, his courage buckling under the wrath burning in his brother’s face. “We can’t tell you,” he muttered, his face flushing a bright red.

George’s eyes flashed like lightning, and the trio knew the storm was right on top of them, for his thunderous words followed immediately after. “Get out of my house!” he roared.

In the silence that followed his order, all four of them heard the same sound: feet on the stairs.

“George?”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had never seen George’s temper deflate so quickly as he strode to the staircase, just in time to meet Y/N at the bottom.

They all knew she’d just woken up, for she smothered a yawn, and there was a light, floral robe wrapped around her. “What’s going on?” Y/N asked, rubbing at her sleepy eyes.

George gently rested his hands on her shoulder, turning her around. “Nothing, honey, just go back upstairs, okay? I’ll be up there soon.”

But before Y/N had even climbed one stair, Harry piped up. “Y/N, we need your help.” Y/N immediately faced the trio, and George shot a glower so powerful in Harry’s direction, it nearly made him lose his nerve.

“Don’t listen to them,” George said, starting to push his wife up the stairs. “Just go back to bed, okay?”

George’s wife ducked around him, walking towards Harry. “You need my help with what?”

“Don’t you dare–” George started to say.

“We need your divination skills,” Ron explained, shooting his brother an apologetic look. Judging by George’s barely concealed rage, Ron wasn’t forgiven. There was no indication Y/N seemed scared by their request. Her eyes just darted between the three friends, waiting for elaboration.

Harry glanced at his friends before facing Y/N. “The mission that Dumbledore gave us…to complete it, there’s an object we have to find.” Behind Harry, Ron scratched his neck, clearly feeling awkward.

“What’s the object?” Y/N asked. “Why do you need it?”

“We can’t tell you why,” Harry replied. He expected George to blow up immediately, but George stayed silent, watching his wife. The whole room went quiet as Y/N seemed to digest Harry’s answer. Admittedly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t know Y/N that well, for she’d been in a different house and a different year than them, but she didn’t seem scared. Perhaps George had only been exaggerating Y/N’s fear of her own capability.

“I told them to get lost,” George finally said, coming to stand beside his wife. “They don’t know how–”

Y/N lightly jabbed her husband in the side with her elbow. “Of course I will help.”

Harry sagged with relief. “Thank you so much, Y/N, you have no idea–”

“Y/N,” George interrupted, his tone warning.

His wife looked over at him. “They need help. I can’t turn them away.”

George lifted a hand to cup her face. “I can.” His voice wasn’t loud or hostile like it’d been when he’d been talking to Harry. It was tender, enough that Harry, Ron, and Hermione all averted their eyes, feeling like they were intruding. “I love you,” George continued, “but your powers are dangerous, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Y/N covered his hand with hers. “Thanks to Galloglass, I’ve been doing so much better. Remember the last time I used his psychomanteum? It wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be.”

“You passed out, and you were weak for months!” George protested.

“And I got back up on my feet, thanks to you. So if you help me, we can do it again.”

George stuck out his chin. “It’s not safe.”

“If they don’t succeed in their mission, You-Know-Who will kill us all.” She looked at the trio. “Right?”

“Yes,” Hermione said firmly.

“See?” Y/N addressed George again. “This is the right thing to do.”

“The only way we even have a chance of getting any useful information is if we use the psychomanteum again, and that place is crawling with Death Eaters looking for muggleborns.”

“So we’ll be careful and quick,” Y/N said soothingly. “We’ll be in and out, and You-Know-Who will never know we were even there.”

George’s eyebrows lowered at the mention of the Death Eaters’ leader. “But if the Death Eaters catch you while you’re using your catoptromancy, who knows what You-Know-Who would do? He’d turn you into a weapon, and I can guarantee that he will not care about your sanity!”

“If You-Know-Who succeeds, it’s only a matter of time before they find me anyways.”

“It’s not safe,” George said stubbornly. “Galloglass said if you strain yourself too much, you could fracture your mind.”

“So then you can be the one to pull me back if I start to go too far. You can be my voice of reason.” She grabbed his hand, a wry smile on her face. “It’s high time you took a turn being the voice of reason in this relationship anyways.”

George stayed silent, causing everyone in the room to anxiously hold their breath, including Y/N. Then, George exhaled harshly. “If I were to agree to this, you’d listen to me, right? If I told you that you were straining yourself too hard or that it’d become too dangerous, you’d take my words into consideration?”

Y/N nodded.

“Okay,” George said reluctantly. “But I’m there every step of the way.”

Y/N smiled up at him. “I would want nothing less.”

“Alright.” George stepped away from his wife, still clutching her hand as he faced Harry again. “You three ready for a field trip?”

None of the young witches and wizards had ever been to Diagon Alley before the sun rose, and it wasn’t an experience any of them wanted to have again. Most of the shops were closed down—due to the fear that was sweeping through the magical community like a plague—but even the ones that were still open didn’t look a fraction as jolly as Diagon Alley used to be.

You-Know-Who’s authoritative grip on the magical community was nearly complete.

Y/N and George skittered down the cobblestone road, looking over their shoulders often, as if they’d forgotten Harry, Ron, and Hermione were following under the invisibility cloak and were expecting to see them. George kept surveying their surroundings, his hand tightly gripping the wand in his pocket, ready to spring into action if danger dared to show its face.

Thankfully, there were very few other witches and wizards loitering on the street, and they all seemed to have secrets of their own.

The group had almost reached their destination when George slowed. Y/N slowed with him, much to the confusion of the trio underneath the cloak…until they realized what shop they’d stopped in front of.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

The previously colorful and welcoming shop was completely closed down, with wooden boards nailed over the doors and windows.

George felt his wife squeeze his hand.

“You and Fred will open it back up,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” George said, but he didn’t look hopeful or even convinced. He felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder, and despite the fact that George didn’t know whose hand it was, he felt comforted enough to keep walking.

Y/N led the group to a shop three doors down from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, a shop that the trio could’ve sworn they’d never seen before.

Janus Galloglass, the words on the sign read. Scrying mirrors, enchanted mirrors, and haunted mirrors sold here!

Y/N rested a hand on the doorknob, and there was an audible click as the door unlocked. “I’m here so often, the door’s enchanted to let me in,” she murmured. “Now whatever you do,” she warned as she pushed the door open, “don’t look at your reflections. My knowledge is rusty when it comes to mirror magic, and I’d rather not have to fight any of the spirits or spells in these mirrors.”

With those chilling words, everyone followed her inside, dutifully keeping their eyes down, even if the shop was so dark, they most likely wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyways.

As soon as the door behind them was closed, Harry threw the cloak off, revealing himself, Ron, and Hermione.

“Lumos,” Y/N muttered, the tip of her redwood wand igniting to show the way forward through the cramped shop.

If any member of the group had looked up from the worn wooden planks of the floor, they would’ve seen the largest mirror any of them had ever seen just beside the door. The whole Order of the Phoenix could’ve fit in front of that mirror with room to spare. They also would’ve seen the shelves in the middle of the shop holding every kind of mirror imaginable. Some were handheld, some propped up on their own, some were exceptionally plain, some had detailed frames that looked ancient and expensive.

But all had danger lurking inside.

“I hate this place,” George muttered as Y/N led the group through the shop.

Y/N had to agree. Even if she had grown less afraid around mirrors, she still couldn’t squash the unease that dogged her every step.

“Why are we here?” Harry asked, as they weaved their way around the shelves.

“Oh, why are we in this creepy shop at four in the morning instead of sound asleep in our safe beds?” George asked. “Because someone decided–”

Y/N elbowed her husband again. “There’s a psychomanteum in the basement that Galloclass lets me use.”

Ron glanced over at Hermione. “What is a ‘psychomanteum’?”

“It’s a dark room catoptromancers go to use their powers,” Hermione explained. “The room is set up to help keep the catoptromancer safe while they attempt to see the future, including an enchanted mirror.”

“Mirrors,” Y/N corrected as she started leading them down a staircase. The trio exchanged looks, but George followed her with no hesitation.

A stark contrast to the room above, the psychomanteum was bare. The black walls seemed to move slightly, as if they were incapable of being solid, and every now and then, there seemed to be something moving just on the other side of the watery barriers.

“Is this room safe?” Ron asked, eyeing the walls.

George’s grim expression was answer enough.

“Catoptromancy always has risks,” Y/N explained. “But here is a safer place to do it than anywhere else.”

That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, and now the trio understood why Y/N didn’t have a psychomanteum in her own home.

Harry opened his mouth, intending to ask where the mirrors were when he saw, at the end of the room, three plain, full-length mirrors stood side-by-side. The one in the center stood parallel to the wall behind it, while the others were at an angle, like the covers of an open book.

“It’s okay to look at these reflections,” Y/N explained as she lit a few candles the others hadn’t noticed, “but stay back. The catoptromancy won’t work if the magical radius is interrupted.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shrank back, hovering uncertainly at the foot of the stairs. George, however, stood in the middle of the room, closely monitoring his wife’s every move as she approached the mirrors, pulling on her fingers as if she were counting them.

They all could tell she was nervous now.

She stopped just in front of the center mirror, and, thanks to the angle of the side mirrors, she had many reflections, all chewing anxiously on their lips. “We’ll need silencing charms in this room if we don’t want Death Eater company.”

“I got it,” Hermione said, quickly pulling out her wand.

“What else can we do?” George asked as Hermione started muttering spells at the bottom of the stairs.

Y/N squared her shoulders. “Someone should be ready to cast the Shield Charm, because sometimes things can come out.”

“Come out?” Ron squeaked, and his brother shot him a look. Ron cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll do that.”

Harry stepped forward. “What can I do?”

“When we’re ready, you’ll need to describe what it is that you want to know.” Harry nodded tersely. Y/N nodded back. “George?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.

“I’m here,” he said immediately, taking a step forward, despite her warning. “How can I help?”

Her eyes found his in the reflection. “You’re in charge. You’re the one to talk me down when I’m in my stupor.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t know what that could possibly mean, but George nodded grimly.

The trio waited with bated breath, eager for Y/N to begin.

But she just stood there, fidgeting.

“Hey,” George said, a playful smirk on his face. “If you faced down Snape during your N.E.W.T.s and walked away with an ‘Outstanding’ in potions, you can do this in your sleep.”

Y/N snorted, and George seemed to relax slightly at the sound. “You’re right.” She rubbed her hands together, like she was trying to generate warmth. “Okay.” After shaking out her arms, Y/N shut her eyes, breathing in and out.

When nothing seemed to happen, Harry looked at Ron—who shrugged—and then Hermione—who just held up her hands in an I-don’t-even-know gesture. She’d always hated divination anyways.

As Harry debated asking George what came next, the sound of Y/N’s breath started to carry, creating a cascade of echoes through the chamber. The whoosh of her lungs became so loud, Harry felt as though he were actually inside of her body, hearing the air go in and out.

Then, with each breath, the room seemingly dropped a few degrees, and the very building shuddered around them. Harry glanced at his friends, seeing his worry matched in their expressions. Then he looked at George and saw twice as much concern in his face.

When Y/N opened her eyes again, Hermione let out a little gasp, for Y/N’s eyes were completely clouded over, looking quite like the crystal balls with milky white smoke inside.

George nudged Harry, who cleared his throat. “Right, Y/N, we need to find a cup.” Y/N didn’t blink or move, and George gestured for Harry to keep going. “It used to belong to Helga Hufflepuff, and it’s the artifact for the Hufflepuff house.”

Y/N’s eyes stayed fixed on some distant point of interest, but her breathing quickened.

“Something’s happening,” Ron whispered, and he was right.

The three mirrors no longer reflected the room’s occupants. Instead, a milky white ink matching the clouds in Y/N’s eyes started to swirl in the mirrors.

George grabbed Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, keep going, keep describing the cup.”

“It’s a golden goblet with two handles, and it has the badger on the side.” As the words left Harry’s mouth, the cup appeared in the center mirror, directly in front of Y/N. “That’s it!” Harry cried. “Where is it?”

The cup grew smaller and smaller.

“Why’s it getting farther away?” Hermione asked, sounding petrified.

“Just give her a second.” George licked his lips. “She just needs time.”

George was right, for as the cup got further away, the background started to form, spanning across all three mirrors. The cup rested on a shelf in a dark room, surrounded by other precious objects of gold and silver.

“There’s other things there,” said Harry, stating the obvious. “But where’s there?”

The picture continued to grow smaller, as if someone was holding a camera and stepping away. The more the location came into view, the more precious pieces appeared. Beside a neat stack of gold bars lay piles of galleons, sickles and knuts, and there were many antiques that no one had names for.

“It’s a whole room of treasure,” Hermione breathed, and her reverence was justified. One-sixteenth of this collection would be enough to set anyone up for life.

“Maybe it’s a hoard?” Ron suggested, shifting his weight.

Y/N’s shoulders started rising and falling as her breathing grew more ragged. George turned to Harry. “We’ll need to stop soon, she’s reaching the end of her rope.”

“But we’re so close!” Harry objected. “We have to keep going!”

George’s head turned back towards the mirrors. The image continued to zoom out, but it was slowing down as Y/N’s breathing grew more labored.

“She can’t take much more!” George snapped.

“We need to see more,” Harry demanded. George stepped towards Harry, looking ready to hit him, when Ron slid in between them, holding them both at bay.

“Guys, look!” Hermione shouted, and everyone looked at the mirror just as the view came through the doorway, and the door shut, as if by some invisible force.

Harry recognized it immediately. “It’s a vault!” he said excitedly, turning to his friends. “The cup is in a vault in Gringotts!” He watched the mirrors eagerly. That eagerness started to fade, however, when Harry saw his own form materialize in the center mirror, covered in dirt and looking ragged.

“Harry, it’s time to stop,” George said, but Harry didn’t seem to hear him.

“Y/N, we need to see the number of the vault, show us the numbers!”

“Stop it,” George hissed, grabbing Harry’s shoulder.

But one by one, the numbers on the vault started to sharpen and come into focus.

“Seven!” Ron said. “Two!”

Suddenly, the zooming out sped up, the perspective tilting.

“Did anyone see what the last number was?” Harry cried, but George was far beyond the point of caring.

“Y/N, stop!” George cried, and Y/N stumbled, as if some unseen force had pushed her. George tried to run towards her, but an invisible barrier stopped him. “Y/N!” George shouted, pounding on the barrier. “Y/N!”

“What’s happening?” Ron asked, looking horrified.

“Her catoptromancy’s in control now!” George shouted. “It’s keeping me away so the job can be finished!”

The picture in the mirror continued to spiral, quicker and quicker, somewhat reminiscent of a muggle rollercoaster.

“Y/N, breathe, it’s okay, remember you’re in control!” George yelled.

The image started to settle a bit, but not on a sight any of them wanted to see.

“It’s a dragon!” Harry exclaimed.

In a large underground chamber stood a large, white dragon. Chains wrapped around its neck, and streaks of blood ran down the scales directly underneath the restraints. As if the dragon had heard Harry, it turned towards the mirror and opened its mouth, the temperature in the room spiking.

“Ron!” George bellowed, just before flames started to spew from the dragon’s mouth.

“Aguamenti!” A burst of water flew from the tip of Ron’s wand. The invisible barrier seemed to be gone as the water drenched everything.

A great amount of steam burst through the room, and the trio instinctually covered their faces.

George, however, ran forwards, straight toward his wife, who was already crumpling. He slid, just barely catching Y/N before she collided with the ground. “Y/N?” he asked, shaking her slightly, but her cloudy eyes were unblinking.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at the mirrors. The dragon had gone, and the surface of the mirrors had returned to their previous smoky appearance, but a few shades darker.

“Y/N!” George shouted, gently laying her down on the floor, crouching over her. “Y/N, it’s George, are you okay?”

YN didn’t stir.

“You did so well, “ George said, his voice cracking as he lifted his hand to gently shut her eyes. “You got exactly what they needed, but it’s time to wake up now.”

Covering her mouth with her hand, Hermione reached out for Ron, who wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

George tapped the side of her face. “Honey, it’s time to wake up, okay?”

All Harry could do was stare as Y/N’s husband stroked her hair. “She’s not breathing,” Harry said dumbly. “Why isn’t she breathing?”

George kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard him. “We’ll go home, and I’ll make you blueberry pancakes, how does that sound? All you have to do is open your eyes, come on baby, open those beautiful eyes for me.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but there was no sign of her irises or pupils. Her eyes were completely clouded over, but unlike before, these clouds were growing darker and darker. “No, no, honey, you need to come back.” George’s voice steadily rose in volume as his wife remained unresponsive. “You don’t get to leave me this way!”

Hermione pressed her face into Ron’s chest, her shoulders shaking. Tears streaked down Ron’s face as he watched his brother try to revive his wife.

“Wake up!” George’s voice was shrill. “This is not the end, you hear me? Wake up!”

Harry stepped forward, putting his hand on George’s shoulder, but George twisted away from him. He lifted his wife’s head, resting it in his lap. “C’mon, Y/N, show me those beautiful eyes.” A tear splashed onto Y/N’s cheek, and George swiped at his eyes. “I love you so much, Y/N, I do, so you can’t do this, you hear me?”

There was no acknowledgement, and the only movement in the entire room was from the jet black clouds in the mirror.

George’s head jerked up with a savage urgency, and the trio shrank away from him, but he wasn’t looking at them. “The mirrors,” he said to himself, like he was in a trance. Then, all at once, George surged to his feet, running towards the dark smoke.

“What are you–” Ron started to ask.

George’s fist collided with the mirror on the right, and the resulting harsh shattering sound made the trio wince and cover their ears. The fracture ran the length of the mirror, the cracks radiating out like a spider web. As George pulled his fist back to smash the next mirror, his raw knuckles caught the light.

He didn’t seem to care about that, already ramming his hand into the center mirror. This time, a pained groan escaped from George’s lips as his skin split open, but he turned to the final mirror, determination in his drawn face as he delivered the last blow.

Smash!

As the ruptures appeared in the third mirror, a sharp inhale sounded from behind George. George spun around, fist still where he’d punched the mirror, just in time to see Y/N’s eyes flutter open, her irises back to their normal color.

Harry and Hermione sighed with relief, and Ron let out a: “Oh, thank Merlin.”

George merely fell to his knees and pulled Y/N’s head into his lap again. “What happened?” she rasped as she blinked up at her husband. “Where am I?”

“You’re okay,” George told her wetly, wiping his own tears off her face. “You used your catoptromancy to help my brother, but you’re good now.”

“Did it work?” Y/N mumbled, her eyelids sagging.

George lifted his head to look at the trio. “Did you get what you needed?”

Harry nodded, as if he didn’t trust his voice.

George looked back to his wife. “Yes, it worked, you did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

“You’re proud?” she managed to say.

Her husband choked back a sob. “So, so proud.”

Y/N’s eyes fell closed, but a soft smile appeared on her face.

“George,” Ron said quietly, and George reluctantly looked up at his brother. “Look.”

George followed Ron’s gaze to the shattered mirrors.

They were once again reflecting like normal mirrors, but from every crack oozed a strange black liquid. It dripped down, streaking the broken mirrors and mixing with George’s blood. The group had never seen anything like it.

“Talk about seven years of bad luck,” George said with a shaky grin, but no one laughed.

When the group returned to George and Y/N’s house, George gently laid his wife on the couch. “You relax here, and I’ll go make some breakfast, okay?”

Y/N hummed, her eyes shutting as soon as her head fell on the pillow.

George watched her, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He remembered the day they’d gotten this couch. They’d decided on the style, but they couldn’t decide on the color. George hadn’t wanted anything too light, because then it would get dirty too easily. On the flip side, Y/N hadn’t wanted anything too dark. We have too much gloominess in our lives already, she’d told him, before caving and letting him get the dark gray couch.

Looking at her pallid face now, he knew she was right.

Hermione and Harry stayed beside the couch, uneasily watching Y/N, but Ron followed George to the kitchen. Once George was out of sight of the living room, he gripped the counter, letting his head hang as he released a slow, tense breath.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked, quietly enough that his friends wouldn’t hear.

“What do you think?” George replied.

Ron wisely kept his mouth shut, merely watching his brother struggle to collect his composure.

“I wish I could say I’ll never let her do that again,” George said finally, “but I know that if you three showed up tomorrow asking for help, she’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I’m sorry,” was Ron’s reply, but it sounded as if he had no idea what he was apologizing for.

George let out a sound halfway between amusement and disbelief. “If this was anybody’s fault, you’d bet I’d be hexing some eyebrows a neon pink right now.”

Ron shook his head, but couldn’t help his laugh. “George, I’m serious.”

His older brother looked at him. “You’re right. If I did that, Y/N would just shave off mine while I slept as payback.”

Ron knew George was trying to deflect using his most powerful weapon: his humor. Ron wanted to keep pressing his brother for some authenticity, but unfortunately, he knew if he were in this situation, he’d be handling it with far less grace than his older brother.

With great effort, George started getting out the materials for pancakes. “Are the three of you staying for breakfast?”

“No,” Hermione said from behind Ron, who turned to see her standing beside Harry in the entryway of the kitchen. “We should probably go.”

George nodded as he poured a cup of flour into the bowl. “You have a cup to find.”

Nobody said anything. George measured three teaspoons of baking powder and dropped them into the bowl.

“George,” Harry said, “if I’d known–”

“Shhhh.” The redhead didn’t look up from his mixing bowl, but his voice was reassuring. “You couldn’t have known, and Y/N wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over it.”

“But she could’ve died,” Harry burst out. “If you hadn’t been there or-or if I’d pushed any harder, who knows what could’ve happened?!”

George dusted his hands on his pants as he walked over to Harry. Harry tensed, as if he were preparing to take a punch, but George just wrapped his arms around him. Judging by the shocked look on Harry’s face, a hug was the last thing he expected. It took a moment before Harry hugged him back.

George pulled away, earnesty all over his face. “She made the decision. Even if–” George’s voice faltered. “Even if it had ended in the worst possible way, she still would’ve gladly done it to help you.”

Harry looked down at the floor, guilt written all over his face.

“Listen to me. She was right. If I were in her shoes and you told me I could’ve done something to help take down You-Know-Who, I would’ve done whatever I could to help you guys.” Hermione and Ron rested their hands on Harry’s back as George smiled at him. “You’re our best hope, Harry. Whatever we can do to keep the hope alive, we will.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Will you…will you tell her ‘thank you’ when she wakes up? She was a huge help.” Ron and Hermione nodded vehemently.

George grinned. “I’m not sure she’ll believe it, but I most certainly will tell her.” His expression turned stern. “I will also tell her that you won’t be asking her to use her catoptromancy again any time soon.”

Harry winced and nodded. George walked them to the front door. He gave Hermione a side-hug and shook Harry’s hand. Then, he turned to his little brother with a smile.

Ron gave his brother a bear hug. “Stay alive, okay?”

“Same goes for you,” George replied. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

A mischievous smile appeared on Ron’s face. “So I have free reign to dye some eyebrows neon pink?”

George snorted. “Okay, fine, don’t do anything Percy wouldn’t do.” Ron smiled at his brother. “I’ll tell Mum and Dad I saw you and that you’re okay.”

Ron’s smile turned wistful, but Hermione took his hand, which seemed to steady him. The three of them walked down the path of the house, reaching the end of the lawn and waving before Disapparating.

George stood watching the place they’d been. He knew his mother would shout at him and quite possibly box his ears for seeing Ron and letting Ron go. But George also knew that whatever they were doing would be crucial before the end. Still, his heart was heavy as he looked to the sky, the rising sun turning the clouds vibrant oranges and pinks.

Slowly, he shut the door and returned to making pancakes.

George could’ve waved the wand safely stowed in his pocket and had the pancakes making themselves, but he wanted to linger in the kitchen.

For every bit he loved Y/N, it was hard to see his strong, self-sufficient wife so pale, so weak. George’d never been good at watching his loved ones be in pain, especially when there was nothing to be done about it except watch.

Pancakes were easy, and he knew that once he was done, he’d be drowning in his own helplessness again.

But when the fresh blueberry pancakes lay steaming on a plate, he knew it was time to go check on Y/N.

Her eyes were already open when he tentatively returned to the living room, and his stomach sank when he saw how still she lay. “Hey,” he said gently, kneeling beside the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she said, in a voice far too frail for that statement to be true.

“Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” Y/N nodded, and she tried to sit up. “Don’t you dare get up,” George barked. “I’ll bring it to you.” Y/N didn’t protest, and George brought her a plate drowning in syrup, just the way she liked her pancakes.

“Just one?” Y/N said with a frown, causing George to chuckle.

“If or when you finish it, I’ll bring you another.” He placed the fork in her hand, closing her fingers around it.

Y/N clumsily cut a piece of the pancake, the fork shaking as she raised the bite of breakfast to her mouth. Once her lips closed around the bite of food, her hand fell to her side, still clutching the fork.

Wordlessly, George took the fork from her hand and cut the next bite. He fed her, slowly, allowing her all the time she needed to chew and swallow. Somehow, chewing and swallowing had never seemed so difficult—or so precious—before.

“I must say,” George said with a smile, “I’m suddenly in love with the sounds of your chewing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the soft smile on her face made him feel like he’d won a great big prize. The more she ate, he noticed with great satisfaction, the more the color returned to her face. When the plate was empty, Y/N sat back in her place against the arm of the couch, looking much better, much more alert.

“Are you hungry for more?” George asked. Y/N shook her head. “Are you sleepy?” She shook her head again. The restlessness reared its ugly head. “Are there some socks you need ironed or perhaps some carpet that needs dusting?”

She laughed quietly, looking the very picture of contentment. “No, but you can hold me.”

George didn’t hesitate. He set the plate down on their coffee table and carefully laid in between the back of the couch and Y/N, wrapping his arms around her. She nestled into his arms and rested her head on his chest, a soft smile on her face.

For a while, they were both silent. George watched the sunlight from the nearby window creep across the carpet. It should’ve been relaxing, just the two of them sitting here, awake, but not speaking.

Unfortunately, George’s thoughts kept returning to the ordeal his wife had just endured.

The woman in his arms, the love of his life, had almost died today. He’d almost lost this beautiful creature to the fearsome power lurking within that powerful mind of hers. Despite the fact that he did everything he could, it almost hadn’t been enough to bring her back.

The thought made him shudder and pull her closer to him.

“I’m not looking forward to reimbursing Galloglass for those mirrors,” he commented.

Instead of laughing, Y/N twisted to face him, her hand catching his and bringing it up to her eyes to inspect the fresh damage to his knuckles. “Does this hurt?” she asked him, her voice small.

“Only about as much as a bite from a garden gnome,” George lied, because, really, they didn’t hurt, not at any level of pain worth mentioning.

Y/N began running a finger down his cheek, tracing the path of his earlier tears. “Are you okay?”

George felt trapped, trying to find some way around the question. “I should be asking you that,” he said.

“You already have, so now it’s my turn.”

Darn his wife for knowing him so well.

She rested a hand on his jaw, soothingly running her thumb across his cheek. “Are you okay?” she repeated.

With a shuddering breath, George buried his face into her neck. “No,” he replied, his voice muffled.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, one of her arms winding around his waist.

“Can you just give me a second?” Y/N’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “I just need us to stay like this,” George clarified, his grip on her tightening. “Just for a little while.”

Y/N lifted a hand, starting to run her hands through his hair. “Okay.” She kissed his cheek. “Okay, we’ll just stay like this.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, and slowly, George felt the knots in his stomach loosen. Nothing healed him so well as proximity to his wife.

But he felt himself getting antsy, his brain begging for some humor to relieve the emotional charge in the room. “I’m getting rid of this couch,” he finally said. “You’re right, it’s too depressing.” He didn’t need to tell her that it wasn’t due to the color, but due to this whole night.

He waited for an I-told-you-so, but when Y/N didn’t answer, he looked down to see her eyes shut and her breathing even.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the smell of her hair. “You get to pick the next couch,” he promised her. “Stick with me, and I’ll get you all the couches in the world.”

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and read my other George Weasley fanfic called Is It Still Punishment if It Was Worth It?

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x y/n #reader insert #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #protective #divination #magic!reader #wife!reader

1K notes · View notes

ghostofscarley · 2 years

Text

Enchanted

Fred Weasley x Reader

Inspired by the movie 'Enchanted'

Taglist: @wolfstardaughter-jj @dayangestre @cobrakaisb @emso12 @wixabear @robincantfunction @lilyswh0re @dracosluvbot

word count: 8.7k

"you're practically gaping at her mate, subtle much," fred muttered as he glanced at harry who was staring at the fifth year ravenclaw, cho chang, mindlessly as she giggled with her friends, "so much for wanting to keep my lunch down. mate, before you lose anymore pumpkin juice, you'd have more luck going over and talking to her-"

"oh, leave him alone fred," rolling her eyes, y/n gave back the rolled up newspaper to a glaring hermione granger after having smacked the ginger boy on the back of his head, "he is however, miraculously, right in a sorts though harry. you really should talk to her."

"ugh! look at this! i don't believe it, she's done it again. miss granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the bulgarian bon-bon viktor krum. no word yet on how harry potter's taking this latest emotional blow," glaring now at the newspaper article, hermione slams it onto the table, almost knocking over her own goblet of pumpkin juice in the process, "i mean who does she think she is? i can tell you right now, harry seems to be doing just fine."

shaking his head, as if he had been in a trance, harry looked towards his fury-filled friends is confusion

"i wouldn't mind her, mione. you know how that hag of a woman is," shaking her head at the clueless chosen one before turning to in a sympathetic manner to comfort her bushy-haired friend, "the lengths she'd go and the people she'd shine a false light on for the sake of fame and attention. such a bitch."

groaning, fred slid over to his best friend, not so subtly stretching an arm around her shoulder, pulling the girl closer, and unbeknownst to the ginger, causing a certain hue of rosy red to spread across the said girl's cheeks

"such a dirty mouth. to what do i owe the honours of being allowed to be within the presence of that mouth?" winking with a sly grin, blowing a single strand out of his eyes and angling his head to get a better look at the girl, he asks, "is the one and only y/n y/l/n blushing because of little, ol' frederick weasley? you flatter me."

huffing, y/n shrugged off the older twins arm that was draped across her shoulders, sending a scowl his way as she crossed her arms

"you wish freddie, and don't say shit like that. weirdo."

"well maybe if someone stopped swearing then-"

"i'm not wearing that, it's ghastly."

hearing this, both y/n and fred looked over to the two youngest weasleys, one of which were holding what looked like old rags of spare lace sewn together, before hermione laughed

"they're not for ginny. they're for you! dress robes."

upon saying this, the friend group all broke into laughter whilst ron's face fell

"dress robes? for what?"

to this, y/n and fred, having calmed down from the fits of laughter at the situation for the younger weasley male, turned to each other, a look of confusion now adorning their faces

"the yule ball has been a tradition of the triwizard tournament since its inception. on christmas eve night we and our guests gather in the great hall for well mannered frivolity. as representitives of the host school i expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and i mean this literally because the yule ball is first and foremost... a dance." groans emerge from the boys who are listening on. the girls seem a lot more excited, "silence. the house of godric gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. i will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons."

y/n sent a quick glance to where harry, fred and george were standing only to see the twins murmuring to themselves and thus she shook her head, knowing that it was nothing serious before focusing back on mcgonagall

"now to dance is to let the body breathe. inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight and inside," upon hearing whispers, she turns to glare at ron, "every boy a lordly lion prepared to prance, mr weasley, will you join me? now, place your right hand on my waist."

embarrassed and a little befuddled, ron almost mutters

"where?"

impatient, the woman moves to correct the placement of ron's very much awkward placing of his arm

"my waist," the woman states firmly, before the music starts up and the professors leads them into a waltz, inviting others to join

upon the invitation, the girls rushed to stand, only for the boys to remain seated, awkward, some even scratching at the back of their necks

with a smirk, fred walks over to y/n, who had previously been in a conversation with her friend and fellow quidditch team mate, katie bell, when she saw an approaching body out of the corner of her eye, before turning to see fred offering his hand out to her

"if you will, m'lady."

nudging the girl with a giggle, katie pushed her friend out of her seating position and into the arms of the cheeky ginger, winking at the girl before turning to find her own partner

"real smooth, weasley," she stated, placing one hand into his before raising her other arm to rest it on his, "'m'lady', huh? that's a new one. what book did you stumble upon to get that one? oh who am i kidding, you'd never pick up a book. willingly."

"oh ha ha, you're so funny. much laughter. such a comedian," the hand that rested on her waist began to poke slightly at her after her cheeky comment, twirling her and bringing her back into his chest now, "i'll have you know that i didn't find it. i just heard it was all. in one of those silly muggle movies that you love."

"they are not silly," she scoffed, moving her hand to slap the back of his head only for him to grab it and keep a firm grasp on it instead, the familiar heat spreading across her face, "they are romantic. not that you'd know."

"what's that supposed to mean? i'm so romantic i'd knock your socks off with how chivalrous and charming i am."

the girl couldn't keep a straight face at what the boy had said, immediately breaking out into a boisterous cackle which attracted many fellow gryffindors though the girl didn't care. the boy didn't either, a small smile then growing rather large at the sound

"oh freddie, now who's the comedian?" sighing, she moved, well tried, to rest her right cheek on his shoulder, which was now hunched to aid her due to the distinct height difference, "i can't wait. i mean, an actual ball, are you kidding? hogwarts is already magical on its own. can you imagine how wondrous it'll be?"

"oh, do you already have someone in mind as to who you'll take? my, my. and whom is it that has piqued y/n y/l/n's interest?" he nudged at her, wiggling his eyebrows as chuckled at the rosy red cheeks, "it wouldn't happen to be someone i know, would it?"

"what's it to you?" burying her face deeper into his neck, her voice came out as a murmur, "maybe i have found someone i hope will sweep me off my feet."

though the girl couldn't see it, fred's face dropped, after a wave of shock, not expecting what she said

"oh. well that's good," he shrugged, the movement pulling y/n out of her trance, and out of his neck, "can only imagine how wonderful he is. only the best for you."

"yeah," she said, a look of serenity taking over her face as she thought about the boy that was standing in front of her, "he is pretty wonderful."

"this is mad. at this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates. well, us and neville," ron uttered, sharing a chuckle with harry whilst y/n, who was across the table next to fred shared a look of displeasure with hermione, "then again, he can take himself."

before y/n could reply to the younger weasley, hermione had beaten her to it

"how sweet. but it might interest you two to know that neville's already got someone."

a smirk growing, the older gryffindor girl knew that she no longer had to say anything

"well now I'm really depressed."

ron's shoulders drop as his lips form a pout

hearing quick scribbles, y/n turned to read what fred had written before he scrunched it up and threw it at his brother

'get a move on or all the good ones will have gone'

to this, ron looks up from the parchment before turning to his older brother

"who are you going with then?"

fred turned to y/n, who was sat on his right, sharing a smile, as she let out a small giggle, wiggling his eye brows, before turning and throwing a piece of scrunched up parchment at angelina johnson

y/n could only feel her smile drop, her eyes gloss, and the rosy hues fade as she watched the boy next to her whisper at the girl. a girl that wasn't her

"oi! angelina!" acting out dancing movements, he then continued to ask, "do you, want to go, to the ball, with me?"

with a smile growing on her face, angelina turned so her whole body was facing him before resting her head on her hand with a dreamy look

"yeah. yeah, i want to go."

y/n could only see fred wink at ron before she quickly packed all her things and rushed to hand her book to snape, alarming the others as they all watched the girl scamper off, not wanting them to see the tears that had now escaped, her heart broken

"what's wrong with her?" ron could only ask though he got shrugs from both fred and hermione, "well, anyway."

fred could only drown out his brother's words as he watched the girl practically run put of the great hall, before he heard a book slam and turned to witness hermione leaving as well, sending a final glare to his little brother

"girls."

the small sniffles from the gryffindor girl, with the occasional break of an audible sob were all that could be heard that wintry evening as the rebounded off the walls of what she thought was an empty corridor, void of students

"y/n? is that you?" the soft voice came from around the corner from where she was sat, the owner of the voice stepping out into the open corridor to reveal adrian pucey, chaser of the slytherin quidditch team and a total heartthrob, his face softening as he looked at the upset girl in front of him, "are you ok? what happened?"

she made quick eye contact with the boy before she hurriedly brushed away her tears, rubbing at her eyes and glancing down as she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, not wanting to look at him again

not wanting to seem vulnerable or weak in front of him

"come on," nodding his head to the side, he waited with his hand held out, "let's go for a walk. i promise it won't be a bore. i'm a pretty fun person."

looking from his eyes back to his outstretched hand and then his eyes again and seeing nothing but kindness and warmth in his irises, the girl huffed a little before placing her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from her seated position

not saying anything for a few moments, the pair walked, hands still in each other's, taking in the sights of the school, the blanket of white coating every inch that was exposed, small, icy flakes fluttering and falling, both from the sky and the branches of trees that had collected hefty amounts

"so, mind telling me what's up?" adrian spoke out, filling the otherwise silent air before freezing up a bit, turning to the girl frantically, "not that you should feel obligated to tell me, if it's something you wish to keep to yourself then i won't pester you about it. but. i am here if you do need to talk."

"you make it seem a lot more... serious than it is, i guess," she responded, wanting to reassure the boy whilst feeling idiotic herself, then scoffing and shaking her head, "i mean, who cries because they watched their crush ask out another person to this really extravagant ball that's coming up? stupid, right?"

now frowning, the slytherin boy turns towards her, shaking his head

"y/n. that is a valid reason to be upset. it's not stupid at all. well, i guess it's their loss."

shaking her head as more tears welled up, she stopped their walk, removing her hand from his grasp before facing him and placing both of them on his shoulder

"it's not stupid at all," he all but uttered, not wanting to scare or upset the girl any further by his usually confident and loud voice, "it's rather valid you know. but anyone would be a blind idiot to not take you."

her crying came to a halt as a look of self doubt lingered in her eyes

"no, adrian. you don't understand. the girl is like. stupid gorgeous. like, her eyes are doe like, you could easily get lost in them. her skin is ridiculously smooth and clear, free of blemishes and pimples and blackheads, not to mention the tone of colour. her hair, looks alone, is so silky and it blows freely in the wind, never a single strand out of place. she's a bloody chaser on the quidditch team so that's a factor alone. her laugh is airy and fucking perfect. her smile is so warm and dreamy and captivating. she's not too short but not too tall. angelina johnson," taking a breath, the girl could feel her senses cloud, losing sight and touch, looking aimlessly past the boy, "she's so fucking perfect and. i'm just. me. i don't even know why i thought i had a chance. but the way he looked at me, smiled at me, with that stupid boyish grin he always wears. i was so sure it would happen. and then it didn't. i was stupid to think fred weasley, the class clown, would ask me to the ball when someone like angelina johnson roams the very same halls. it seems so bitchy to say that too because she's so kind. always the sweetest thing to me and here i am being the grouchiest person ever."

"then go with me," he asked, no stated firmly and without a doubt, "i won't let you downplay yourself like that, comparing yourself to someone who is just another girl. who isn't all that. and that's not because i'm biased or partial as your friend. she may be beautiful, but you radiate beauty. and i won't let you continue to bottle up these thoughts that you hold against yourself when they aren't true. so, i am asking you to go to the yule ball with me, as my date."

"oh ade, i, i can't. i just, i don't want a pity date. just because the guy i wanted to go with asked someone else."

instead of arguing, because him asking her wasn't out of pity, adrian held out his hand to her, waiting until she eventually took it, though not without a look of confusion before he cleared his throat, taking her down the corridor

in a horrible, posh british accent, like more posh than his usual accent, he sang out loud, his voice echoing off of the walls for all to hear

"hee hee"

"ade, what are you doing?"

"my baby's always danCInG, and iT WouLdN't be a bAd tHiNG. BUt i doN't geT nO lovInG, aNd thAt'S nO LiE"

quickening her pace to match his, she couldn’t help but smile, forgetting what had happened in the great hall not too long, spinning whenever he motioned for her to, seeing others who were now exiting the great hall watch on, curious

"ade-"

"wE sPenT thE nIGhT in fRisCo, aT evEry kiNdA diScO. fRoM thAt nIghT i kIsSed oUr lOvE gOodByE."

out of the corner of her eye, she could she a flash of ginger hair, though she wasn't given more time to wonder about who it was before she was dipped and she let out the loudest cackle

"ADRIAN-"

"dOn't bLAmE iT on tHe sUNsHinE, DOn'T bLamE It on thE mOoNlIGhT, dON't bLAme It oN ThE gOoD tiMeS. bLAmE iT on thE boOgie."

doing one more spin, the boy left the girl in the middle of the corridor before skipping and spinning and prancing circles around her, her smile growing and lighting up the otherwise darkening hall as the sun set

"i jUSt cAn't, i JuST caN't, I jUsT cAn'T cOnTrol mY feET. i jUSt cAn't, i JuST caN't, I jUsT cAn'T cOnTrol mY feET."

now out of breath, the boy dropped onto both knees, gesturing for her hands and asking once more

"i hope that wasn't too embarrassing for you," he chuckles, taking in deep breaths, the musical break out doing more numbers on him than his weekly quidditch practices, "so, i'll ask again. will you, y/n y/l/n, chaser of the gryffindor quidditch team and total heartthrob, accompany myself, adrian pucey, chaser of the slytherin quidditch team and also total heartthrob, to the yule ball? i can't promise i'll be as 'extravagant' as i was in this moment, but i'll be the best damn date you could ever wish for."

"well, i mean i don't know, i-" dragging on her words, she looked down at the boy to see his confident grin faltering and she knew she couldn't continue to play along, "of course i will ade. how could i say no after that?"

breathing out a sigh of relief, he went to wrap his arms around her before realising he was still on his knees, getting up and then embracing the girl who was no longer teary eyed and instead glowing, radiating warmth and happiness

whilst most onlookers were applauding the 'proposal' they had witnessed between the two chasers, a certain ginger beater, who was watching from behind pillar, was green with envy, shaking his head before walking off to find george

it was christmas night. the night of the yule ball and y/n finds herself in hermione's dorm room, getting ready with said girl and the youngest weasley

"ok but can we talk about that proposal again and how cute it was," ginny exclaimed, grabbing onto the oldest girl's hand and twirling, though almost falling due to the wedges that adorned her feet, "i mean. i always saw you two together so i knew he was friendly but. the singing, the dancing, the 'falling onto his knees'. it was so romantic."

"ah, gin," the girl, though smiling, shook her head slightly, straightening up her younger friend, "it was cute, but i just don't see adrian like that. he's just a good friend."

"y/n, y/n, y/n. did you not see the way he looked at you? it was practically heart-eyes. he adores you. he had this soft smile on his face and his eyes glowed. it was like you had hung, no, handpicked the moon and the stars for him. he was enamoured."

"adrian is aromantic, gin. i can assure you he doesn't like me like that. besides, though he's my date, i've always had my eye on someone. the feelings just don't seem to be reciprocated."

ginny's smile faltered as she looked at her friend who was gazing down, twiddling her fingers

"if you're talking about my git of a brother," she held up a finger to the girl, whose mouth was slightly ajar, as if she were to ask 'which brother' "and before you get smart, i'm talking about fred. you're clearly not as smart as i thought you were if you think for a second that he doesn't like you. he's constantly talking about you and whatever you've done that was just 'oustanding' or 'astronomical' when you aren't around.. and then where you are around, he needs to be touching you in some way. if i thought adrian was enamoured with you, fred is gobsmacked, drop dead, head over heels, in love with you."

"then why didn't he ask me to the ball, gin? why did he ask angelina? and why did he do it in front of me? no, it doesn't matter. i don't think i have the right to ask that. just... clearly, whatever feelings he did feel.. aren't there," she looked over to the clock in the room before turning to the bed that had her dress hanging just above it, "come on. we've got just under two hours before the ball, and i would like to do your hair. your dress is beautiful by the way."

"well i know, and yes i understood, adrian does not like you and you do not like him and it's all platonic, but i just know he's gonna be blown away with how gorgeous you'll look. i mean the satin and the deepness of the green, which honestly suits you. even if he wore his house tie, it would still match your dress. you'd look hot as a slytherin. too bad you're too much of a lion to be a snake. platonic or not, this is still gonna be as much of a date as any other date you've been on or could go on. and don't look at me like that, enjoy your night with adrian. you deserve it."

before y/n could respond to the girl after having braided and pinned up her ginger hair into a half up/half down style, hermione's voice echoed from the bathroom

"y/n, could you please help me with my hair?"

"don't think for a second that i'm done with you gin, just give me a few minutes. i've got a choice of words with you."

"ah, would you look at the time. i think neville is downstairs waiting for me. see you soon."

"gin- GINERVA," before y/n could say the girl's full name, she had sped out of the dorm room, leaving the older girl to shake her head and huff, "i'm gonna kill her."

quickly slipping in her own dress, she then knocked on the bathroom door before opening it, to see a nervous hermione granger in a beautiful periwinkle dress that complimented the soft brown of her eyes

"and what is it that i will be doing with your hair tonight, miss?" she asked in a horrible mock posh accent, "would you care to flip through our catalogue? i personally love style 3."

"i was actually wondering if you could help me curl it and then pin it back, i don't want to do too much with it," she requests, finally looking over to her friend before gasping slightly, "the dress is absolutely gorgeous on you, y/n. adrian won't know what hit him. if we didn't already have dates, i'd take you myself. save me a dance, perhaps?"

"oh, of course, kind lady. it would be an honour to get the opportunity to dance with you at this regal ball," she continued with her horrible accent, whilst casting a charm to curl hermione's hair, going to speak again but losing the accent, her tone sincere, "you look beautiful, mione. i just know viktor won't be able to keep his eyes off you. and i mean, i wouldn't blame him. i wouldn't want to look away from you either. you really did a wonderful job at picking the dress. should i ever get married, obviously as one of my bridesmaids, or even maid of honour, i'd have you pick out the dresses without a doubt. ok, all done. what do you think?"

"oh, y/n," before y/n could say anything, hermione threw her arms around her, "it's absolutely beautiful, thank you. ok, take a seat and i'll do your hair and your make up if you'd like. not that you'd need any. your natural beauty alone would blow the minds of the whole school, hogwarts, beauxbatons and durmstrang. veela's have nothing on you."

"granger, you flatter me. surprise me will you? i don't really have anything in mind so go at it however you see fit. and maybe just a clear gloss. that way, i can get absolutely hammered and not worry about having to remove a full face of make up."

at the request, hermione spun the girl so that she was no longer facing the mirror, taking the still charmed wand and curling her hair back to resemble that of beach waves, keeping it soft and light, not overdone, before parting her hair, braiding the top half of the two section before tying it off into two separate ponytails that sat on the top of her head, similar to a half up/half down style. she then applied a coat of clear gloss as requested, as well as a light coat of mascara to really accentuate her eyes, before spinning her again, ready for the reveal.

"i'd like to see adrian try and take his eyes away from you. it'd be with great difficulty, i'll tell you that much. you'll easily be the prettiest girl at the ball."

"oh, mione, you can't say that when you'll be there. if i'm gorgeous, you're absolutely stunning. i honestly am envious that viktor is taking you. though i'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. don't hide away too much, yeah? i will be getting that dance," she then hugged the younger girl, careful as to not wrinkle either dress or ruin either hairstyle, "thank you for this. i don't think i've ever felt this pretty. who needs a beauty team? i just need you, my girl. let's go blow everyone away, yeah?"

"let's do it."

walking down to the great hall, the duo heard gasps and saw looks of awe as they turned heads. y/n saw the youngest weasley standing with neville and her own date before looking around, her eyes settling on a cleaned up fred weasley who looked as handsome as ever. he seemed to have found her too, meeting her gaze

she wanted to smile bashfully and wave at the boy she considered her best friend before she saw the girl whose arm was linked with his. the girl that was hanging off of him. and she removed her gaze from him, keeping the small smile as she looked over to adrian, who was returning the smile as he met her gaze, walking over to meet her at the foot of the staircase

"i'll see you around, mione. blow them all away."

the girls hugged a final time before separating to move to their respective dates

"wow, y/l/n. you look incredible. didn't take you to be much of a green girl but it really does suit you. maybe you should've been sorted into slytherin, would've fit right in."

"mm, i don't think so. too many snakes for me to handle. i'm happy with my little pride of lions. must admit, you do look quite incredible yourself. very handsome. i very much like that your tie matches my dress. you wouldn't have asked one of my friends about the colour, would you?"

"whaat? me? never. that does not sound like me at all. but yes. yes i did. reckon we'll make quite the couple. turning heads left, right and centre."

"maybe i should have worn a burgundy. once in a lifetime opportunity to see you in red. reckon you'd look quite ravishing i suppose."

"maybe not so much. wouldn't want to make a fool of myself. at least you can pull off any colour, miss head-turner. shall we make our way inside now?"

"we shall. lead the way, mr head-turner."

from the other side of the hallway

fred was standing just outside the entrance of the great hall, in a group that consisted of himself and his date, angelina, george and his date, alicia spinnet, and lee and his date, patricia stimpson, when the three girls turned to the staircase to see who was making their way down and gasped

"look at our girl, ang. she looks amazing," exclaimed alicia, pulling george with her towards the girl, though george stopped her, "why are we stopping?"

"the girl still needs to find her date, ali. we'll see her inside, alright?"

the girl pouted slightly before nodding and returning her gaze to their third chaser

"did you guys see pucey's proposal to her? it was so romantic and she looked so happy. if i'm being honest though, i thought you'd ask her freddie. especially after that dance practice a few weeks ago. but you have to admit, she and pucey make quite the cute couple. it had to have been the talk of the school. one of our chasers with slytherin's chaser and heartthrob, adrian pucey. i mean she was left smiling hours after. sure, he can't sing to save his life, but it was adorable. the way he got on his knees and grapsed onto her. the way he spun her. her cackle! i don't think i've seen her so hap-" angelina was cut off mid-sentence

"can we stop talking about how cute pucey and y/l/n would be? this isn't about them."

"woah, what's wrong with you? besides it's the truth isn't it? isn't she your best friend? you'd think you'd be happy for her?"

"she can be with pucey for all i care. he's bloody perfect for her, isn't he?" fred sneered, moving his gaze to look at the girl, his glare dropping as he saw that her eyes met his before she turned away, "i just want the best for her. that's all."

george could only smirk, wanting to slap the back of his twin's head but refraining and he rested his arm around alicia

"it seems to me like your jealous, freddie."

fred could only scoff, his glare returning and focusing on his brother

"shove off. whatever, let's just go inside." he suggested as he saw the girl he longed for enter the great hall with her date

looking around the now wintry filled hall, y/n couldn't help but gasp, her grasp around adrian's arm tightening

just when you thought the school couldn't get anymore magical

"oh, ade it's wonderful. it's so magical."

"i'm afraid that's to be expected in a school of witchcraft and wizardry, my dear. thought you knew that. this'll shock you. we also have wands each that produce spells and charms. just as magical."

rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless, she lightly shoved the boy before looping her arm through his once more

"shut up, smart arse, you know what i mean."

"i do. but i must say, it's got nothing on you and your beauty. really did me dirty because now i have to fend off the whole school. it'd be considered lucky if i'm 436th in the line of 947. you really have charmed the school, y/l/n."

"you flatter me. look, here come the champions? ugh, my mione is so gorgeous. booked myself a dance with her, i did. luckiest girl in the world i consider myself to be."

"well i guess i'm 437th in the line now. i hope you're ready for your feet to be aching."

"oh stop it ade. if anything, you're 537th. no, i probably won't dance with that many people, to be completely honest. you, mione, ginny, luna, maybe george if i can catch a word with alicia. oh my goodness. look at fleur. she's absolutely stunning."

"again. i mean, yeah she's pretty. but looking at the girl on my arm, she's nothing but a caterpillar next to the butterfly that is you. don't tell her that though. she might send the whole of beauxbatons on my ass and i'd like to be around long enough to walk you back to your common room."

"you're such a flirt. might wanna watch out before i start to believe less and less that you're aromantic."

"why? is the infamous y/n y/l/n scared to fall in love with the handsome, dashing, charming, endearing, loving, kind and caring adrian pucey?"

"not to mention cocky and the lack of humbleness. but no. in fact it's quite the opposite. wouldn't want to break your heart when you inevitably fall in love with me, ade."

"oh because it will hurt for sure. thank you for watching out for my heart," he chuckled, grasping his chest, as if to reinforce the protection he holds over his heart, "i just want to give you the full experience as my date. that includes the corny compliments, horrible jokes and puns and of course my amazing dancing skills. so, what do you say? we go spike the punch, have a few glasses and then hit the dance floor and show everyone what we're made of? not enough to be absolutely wasted, but enough to allow you to feel the rush, enough to be tipsy, enough for you to sober up easily after a couple songs."

"let's do it."

5 minutes later

the dances of the champions has concluded and now other couples are invited to occupy the vast dance room

y/n and adrian, three glasses of spiked punch layer, were just a little tipsy, feeling the rush of the alcohol but were stable enough to find each other's touch and guided the other to the dance floor as a familiar song began to play

something told me it was over

when i saw you and her talking

something deep down in my soul said "cry girl"

when i saw you and that girl walking around

swaying together, the pair moved closer, the warmth welcoming both of them, something nice about being able hold each other like this, whilst knowing that the only thing that would come out of tonight would be a closer friendship

"i love this song. the lyrics tell such a sad story but etta james just captures the feelings that should be portrayed so beautifully. the fact that she'd want to lose her sense of sight than to have to watch the man she's in love with push her to the side as he pursues another."

i would rather, i would rather be blind

than to see you walk away

so you see, i love you so much

that i don't wanna watch you leave me

"the song is rather sad. i must say though. i wouldn't want to go blind when i have you in front of me, dazzling the whole school."

"and so the corny puns start, huh? do your worst, pucey."

"oh darling, don't worry. i plan to."

when the reflection in the glass

that i held to my lips now

revealed the tears that are all on my face

baby i'd rather be blind

than to see you walk away from me

the song then ended, though the pair continue to sway, seemingly lost in their own world as another fan favourite began to play, y/n removing her head from adrian's shoulder to better appreciate the abba song, if you will, grasping the hand that rested on her hand to manoeuvre him around, matching the tempo the upbeat song

you can dance

you can jive

having the time of your life

see that girl

watch that scene

digging the dancing queen

"i swear this song is like every teenage girl's 'anthem', i guess you could call it. i heard this song a lot growing up. mum loved it."

the two would spin each other, the previous stance during the slower dance gone as they were laughing loudly together. they were sure to remember this night for the rest of their lives

anybody could be that guy

night is young and the music's high

with a bit of rock music

everything is fine

you're in the mood for a dance

and when you get the chance

"dad always found mum's taste in music a little weird, being a muggle and all, but he loved her and her weird little quirks so much. he loved how happy she got whenever the song would play, so he always played it any chance he got."

"was wondering who you inherited your quirkiness from. figured it was something you picked up on your own. seems that isn't the case."

slapping his chest lightly, she threw her head back, laughing

"oi! how rude. some gentleman you are, ade. feeling real flattered right now. like gosh, i might faint. falling head over heels."

"oh shush."

you are the dancing queen

young and sweet

only seventeen

dancing queen

feel the beat of the tambourine

"i didn't think i'd have this much fun if i'm being honest," y/n laughed as they continued to mindlessly jump and twirl around together, knowing that others were watching, and that they'd probably look at the two weirdly for their assortment of strange dance moves, "but i'm so glad i'm here with you tonight, ade. the evening has been absolutely wonderful."

"your mother was a muggle, right?"

"yes? why?"

"just had to be sure. do you know if she ever went to those muggle balls that they hold in movies? prom was it?"

"i didn't know you watched muggle films," she glanced over to the boy who was now bashful, sporting a small smile, "but uh, no. prom is an american event. mum, however, did go to a formal. who she went with, i wouldn't know. i just know it wasn't dad. she met him a good 5 years after she finished school."

"well, i saw that proms often crown for prom king and queen. if you ask me, who needs a prom queen when i have my dancing queen right in front of me."

she cackled once again, wanting to slap his chest yet again but deciding against it and instead fixing up his tie which had been a little lopsided

"you really are something, you know that."

"i think they have one more upbeat song before they play a final slow song, so what you say we have a few more glasses and sober up before the last dance."

another three glasses later and the second last song began to ring out through the hall

i've got sunshine on a cloudy day

when it's cold outside

i've got the month of may

"this song just makes me so happy. it was my parents wedding song. mum grew up with it and she introduced dad to the song after their second date. dad's loved it ever since. would always sing it to her. it makes me feel warm."

i guess

you'd say

what can make me feel this way

my girl

talking 'bout my girl

"i wish i grew up on songs like these. they just seem so nostalgic even though i'm hearing them for the first time tonight."

"ade, you're joking? you cannot be serious. this is urgent. every time we hang out, no matter what, i will play one song. this just isn't acceptable. i refuse to believe it."

i've got so much honey

the bees envy me

i've got a sweeter song

than the birds in the trees

"what do you say y/l/n? reckon my singing the other week was sweeter than the birds that roam hogwarts?"

"that was singing? well, sweet isn't the first word that comes to mind."

"oi, you should be grateful. i don't give out thise performances for free. only on special occasions. it was a moment to remember forever."

whilst the two swayed and the girl sang to the boy, a ginger haired, sulking, teenage boy was staring off at them from his seated position

"you're staring. the song is about to end freddie, just ask her. i'm sure adrian won't mind. everyone knows you're her best friend."

"why would she want to dance with me, ang? she looks quite content with pucey. what's the point?"

"it's just one dance, fred. besides, you've been frowning all night and that's not like you, it's weird."

"quite the date i am huh? sorry. you would've been better off with harry and he's just as much of a lousy date as i am. at least his date got a dance."

"it's alright. i still got a few dances with alicia and you know i've had my eye on roger davis. got a dance with him so i'd say my night was pretty successful."

"that makes one of us."

suddenly, before the final song was to commence, dumbledore had a final announcement to make

"the yule ball is coming to a close and so i must announce before the final dance that there is to be a change in scene. i ask that you gentlemen or women invite another to the dance floor that he or she did not accompany to the ball."

"see, there's your chance fred. take it."

"if anything, she'd probably want to dance with geor-"

"FRED WEASLEY YOU GO OVER TO THAT GIRL AND YOU ASK HER TO DANCE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I ASK FOR YOU MYSELF! i am sick of your pity party of despair and loneliness. just go for it."

he could only sigh as he stood up from the seat he had been sat in for the last 2 hours, making his way over to the pair, though lord knows his heart was 2 seconds away from pounding violently through his ribcage and out of his chest

whilst fred made his way over, the two were still away in their own world, wanting the moment to last just a little longer

"was hoping i'd get my last dance with you. i've had so much fun tonight and i don't want it to end."

"i've had a lot of fun too. was quite the experience having the prettiest girl in hogwarts wrapped in my arms, swaying to muggle misic. who would have thought. i think i might sit this one out. i don't see myself dancing with anyone else that isn't you."

"are you sure you're aromantic, ade? like, straight up? 100%?"

though he knew she meant nothing by it, he still laughed lightly and hugged her before pulling away so they were both at arms distance

"straight up. if i wasn't, i would have been kissing the hell out of you. i can assure you i feel no romantic feelings. even after having you in my embrace for the last 2 hours, it's nothing but platonic. i just don't see anything happening. that, and i can see a certain ginger making his way over and i don't fancy getting kocked out right now. so, after the dance, i'll meet you and escort you to your common room to see you off."

looking to her right slightly, her heartbeat quickens as she sees a hurried fred weasley making his way over before she turns back to adrian

"are you sure? i could just sit with you?"

"i'm sure. i'll just sit with miles. poor bloke was rejected so he's been sat at the table, drinking. reckon i should go over before he dies of alcohol poisoning because trust me, he will find a way. besides, i think someone wants to dance with you. about time if you ask me."

and with that, adrian placed a final kiss on her forehead before he walked away, sending a last wink towards her before turning and not looking back

she could only watch his retreating back for a moment longer before she felt a tap on her shoulder

feeling like her chest was about to explode, she took a slow, deep breath before turning to see the boy who, after the weeks that went by with distance between them, still had her heart

"hi? um, you look.. good?" his face furrowed, slightly frowning as he shook his head, "i mean, obviously you look better than good. amazing, incredible, gorgeous, spectacular. all eyes were on you tonight and reasonably so. the dark green really stood out against your skin. you and pu- adrian really blew the whole school away. it was really cute. anyway, it was nice talking to yo-"

"fred, do you want to dance with me?"

here she was with her heart on her sleeves as she awaited his answer. fred was flabbergasted

"i- me?"

"i mean, no one else is around," she said as she gestured to the empty space around her, "what do you say, freddie? for old times sake? accompany me for the final dance?"

"how could i say no?"

she let out a breath of relief as she took the hand that was held out to her, a small smile growing on her face as she felt warm

dumbledore moved to the centre of the stage a final time

"now, please join me in welcoming mr jon mclaughlin who has warmly agreed to sing our final song for the evening. mr mclaughlin, the stage is yours."

a light piano echoes through the hall as y/n gazes into fred's eyes, something she hasn't done for a while, something she has missed

she missed her freddie and she finally had him back in her arms and she was reluctant to let go

you're in my arms

and all the world is gone

the music playing on for only two

she wanted to say something, anything. she wanted nothing more than to catch up with the boy in front of her but nothing came to mind

so she just held on tighter, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they swayed in time, the rest of the world beginning to fade out as they lost themselves to the music and the soft voice of mr mclaughlin

so close

together

and when i'm with you

so close to feeling alive

he too had a lot on his mind. like how effortlessly perfect she was. from the way her eyes shone as the fire of the floating candles reflected off of them. how her cheeks now adorned its usual rosy hues. how in love he was with her

"you really are beautiful, love."

a life goes by

romantic dreams must die

so i bid mine goodbye

and never knew

"thank you, freddie. i must say, you look quite swell yourself."

"ah, you know. i just pulled this little getup from out of my trunk. curled my hair a little, though it's nothing compared to you. i never thought i'd love seeing you in green so much."

she couldn't help but lean closer, wanting to be as close to the boy as possible

"so, you and pucey, huh? when did that become a thing?"

"adrian?"

"is there another pucey running around that i don't know about?"

y/n could only scoff, though it was light-hearted

"smart arse. there isn't a thing. we're just friends. freddie, i don't want to talk about adrian. just. dance with me."

so close

was waiting

waiting here for you

and now forever i know

all that i want is

to hold you

so close

she rested her head on his shoulder, with a little struggle but she got there and and shared a look with angelina, who only winked at the girl. similarly, fred, who now turned was facing adrian who could only raise his drink in acknowledgement, smiling, and seeming to have mouthed the words, 'well done weasley', to which fred just shook his head, the smile never leaving his face

so close

to reaching that famous happy end

almost believing this one's not pretend

and now you're beside me

and look how far we've come

so far

we are

so close

looking back on their years together, the pair couldn't help but wonder why this didn't happen sooner, why they elongated the pain and sat through the hurt when they could've shared this moment of peace and euphoria earlier

they thought about the weeks they had spent apart and in the presence of another when all they needed was each other. what were they thinking, honestly?

"are you singing, frederick gideon weasley?"

"for you, i'd do just about anything, love."

she sighed happily before she thought back to that afternoon in the great hall. the study session

"i really thought you were gonna ask me. i was so sure, especially when you looked at me with those warm eyes of yours and your happy, boyish grin and i was so excited. but then, you turned and asked someone else. and i had to leave. i couldn't be around to hear all the giggles you both shared whilst i was slowly breaking."

oh how could i face the faceless days

if i should lose you now

"y/n, i'm so sorry. believe me when i say that i was planning on asking you. that afternoon, during dance practice. i was set on asking you then. but then you said-"

"that i might have found someone i wanted to sweep me off my feet. did it never occur to you that i was thinking about you? freddie, i had, have literal heart eyes for you. was it not even a little obvious?"

"i guess not, love," he said, shaking his head at his own obliviousness, "i just. wanted the best for you. and if you had already found it in someone else, then i was fine with that. well, i wasn't but i wasn't gonna let it show. when you said that, i thought someone else had asked. and that you had said yes. so i asked angie, and ended up being a shit date, so i owe her big time. but then when i left to chase after you, adrian was there, singing, in a horrible accent i'd like to add, and in the middle of it all, you just looked so happy, despite the tear tracks that stained your face. your smile was so bright. and then he asked you and you said yes and i just felt. defeated. which is unfair, but i didn't know you were dateless. had i known, i would've asked myself. i just should have asked you about it, but instead, i went and asked someone else, i made you cry and then i pushed you into the arms of another in the process. i was just a downright git who doesn't deserve you. i'm lucky you're dancing with me ri-"

we're so close

to reaching that famous happy end

almost believing this one's not pretend

let's go on dreaming though we know we are

rolling her eyes, she pulled him even closer, if it were possible, titling her head ever so slightly to slot her lips onto his, shutting him up

and it was like sparks, no, fireworks went off and they lost themselves to each other. this was where they truly belonged

"do you ever shut up? you ramble a lot, freddie. i'd say it's cute and a little impressive but then it kept going on and on and i didn't know when you'd st-"

fred leans in again, the kiss lasting a little longer than the first, the otherwise chilly night feeling rather warm

"fred, you just kissed someone with a dirty mouth."

fred grinned gingerly, leaning in to whisper into her ear

"yeah. and i'm about to do it again."

so close

and still

so far

adrian and angelina, who was accompanied by roger davis, sat off to the side, grinning at the kissing couple, bumping fists under the table

"i reckon she doesn't need me to escort her to the common room anymore. suppose i should take drunk-off-his face over here back to our dorm," adrian says to angelina, gesturing to the shitfaced miles bletchley, "tell y/n i said goodnight. if you get the chance to."

and with that, adrian left the yule ball with his drunk mate attached to his arm and a smile on his face, happy that his friend finally got the guy she wanted

her freddie

is that a wrap?! i think fucking so. this will forever be my baby because believe me when i say i've never written a fic this long but it was so worth it.. love yall <33

#Spotify #fred weasley #y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #adrian pucey #harry potter #goblet of fire au #yule ball #enchanted #so close

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