#ron weasley
hxuse-xf-black · 2 days ago
I’m a man, so I only cry at romantic comedies, sunsets, and people being mean to me in YouTube comments.
Ron Weasley, probably
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gildedmist · 2 days ago
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I’m sorry sir, I haven’t actually got my book yet. Nor has Ron. Not to worry, get what you want from the cupboard.
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sourstilinski · a day ago
Are You With Me? (Draco Malfoy x y/n) Chapter 7
Summary: Y/N is a Slytherin muggle born. She's used to her house ostracizing her due to her blood status and her friendship with the Golden Trio, especially Draco Malfoy. But during their fifth year, they discover they might need each other more than they think
To your surprise, things have been really good with Draco the past few weeks. He's been nothing but sweet and gentle with you. His friends have also seemed to be less interested in harassing you, you're not quite sure how he accomplished that. You thought it better not to ask. Draco himself has also been less of a bully throughout the school. You overhead him tell Crabbe that he had "better things to do than harass some eleven year olds" but you knew the real reason.
Unbeknownst to you, Draco was falling deeper in love with you everyday. It was freeing, to be able to feel this way for someone. He's sure he's never felt like this before and he's also sure he won't be able to feel this way for anyone else. You did something to him that he couldn't explain, made him feel things inside.
He thought about you constantly. Every moment he wasn't with you, he was looking forward to the next time he got to see you. Even if he didn't interact with you. He'd watch you at every meal, sometimes you're at the Slytherin table near the end. But most of the time you're with the Gryffindors. His heart aches every time he sees you over there. He gazes at you in class or in the courtyard and even watches you walk the halls with the trio. It still baffles him why you're such good friends with them and it still annoys him immensely that you're so fond of Potter.
Draco would never admit it but he was jealous of Potter. He was the school hero, the chosen one, the quidditch star. Every thing that little scar-head touched turned to gold. It infuriated Draco. He wouldn't let Potter take you away from him too.
It's a gorgeous sunny afternoon when you meet Draco down by the lake. You got his owl after lunch asking you to meet him down there for a study date. You're excited to spend some much needed time with your boyfriend. Studying for OWLS was taking up all of your time. Exams were fast approaching in only a month and you needed to pass with flying colors if you wanted to be considered for any of your top career choices.
The impending exams also meant that the school year was rapidly approaching the close, meaning you wouldn't be able to see Draco for three months. You tried not to let it bother you but you couldn't help it. You were going to miss him terribly.
All worries of the future drift away when you see that blonde head you love so much sitting criss-crossed in the grass. His back is to you, his books and parchment sprawled in front him as he leans his elbows on his knees. A brown bag filled with candy from Honeydukes laid open next to him, it's become a tradition of yours.
"I'm surprised you're actually sitting in the grass," you tease, plopping down across from him. "You're such a diva about your clothes."
He rolls his eyes playfully. "Anything for you."
"So, why'd you ask me to meet you out here?"
Draco wasn't much for the outdoors. He hated Herbology and was afraid of bugs. You'd also heard about the time he was terrified during his trip to the Dark Forest during attention first year.
"You mentioned how your dad used to take you to the lake near your house and how it used to help you think," Draco says. "I thought we could use the help to study for exams."
You smile broadly at your thoughtful boyfriend. You had told him about the trips to the lake with your dad months ago, before you were dating. You're shocked and touched he remembered.
"That's really sweet Draco. This was really thoughtful of you to remember."
"Of course, darling." He leans in, placing his hand on the side of your face. His lips ghost over yours before he gently presses them against your own. You lean into his touch, wanting to savor every moment you have with your boyfriend over the last month of classes.
He deepens the kiss, making you stumble back, causing him to chuckle. You giggle and push him off of you.
"Well, this is just brilliant."
You and Draco jump up at the sound of the snarky tone. You know that voice well, Ron. Both pairs of eyes widen when you see the golden trio standing in front of you. Ron is fuming, fists balled as Hermione and Harry stand a couple steps behind him, flanking his sides.
"I can't believe you," Ron continues, face turning redder by the second. "Not only have you been running off with him, you've been lying to our faces about it too!"
"Ron..." Harry's tone is gentle but warning, pleading him not to continue. He places a hand on his friend's shoulder which Ron immediately shrugs off.
He takes another step towards you. "So have you just forgotten about everything he's done to us over the years? How he's tortured us on a regular basis? How he's called you and Hermione that AWFUL word repeatedly?!"
"Ron," Harry says again, more forcefully this time. "Let's not do this here." Ron ignores him again.
"I'm sorry," you stutter out, your eyes filling with tears. The last thing you wanted was for them find out this way.
"Why him? Why him of all people?" Ron shakes his head at you repeatedly. "Are you mental? Have you no brains?"
"Hey," barks Draco, stepping forward towards the redhead. "No need to speak to her like that."
"No one's talking to you Malfoy," Ron snaps, his laser gaze now focused on the blonde at your side. "This doesn't concern you."
"When you're disrespecting my girlfriend, it does concern me." Draco's jaw clenches as he stares down your friend.
Ron scoffs. "Tell that to your stupid friends who insult her, won't you?" Ron stares at you, eyes searching yours for some kind of explanation. "I can't believe you would do this y/n."
He stalks away, back towards the castle. Tears start streaming down your face as you look at Hermione. She hasn't said a word the whole time but when she finally meets your eyes, her expression makes your stomach drop to the floor. She looks utterly devastated and betrayed. She quickly avoids your gaze and abruptly turns around, following Ron.
You feel like a traitor. You and Hermione had bonded over the fact that you were muggle-borns from the beginning. For the two of you, it was something to be proud of. You had cried together many nights after being called "mudblood" by the Slytherins, most of the time being Draco. Of course her best friend dating her tormentor was a slap in the face to Hermione. You have never felt guiltier.
You finally look at Harry, completely heartbroken. His expression is filled with sympathy and pity, he feels sorry for you. But something in his face tells you he knew this would happen, he just didn't know when.
"I'm sorry," he says, and he really sounds like he means it. You don't say anything as he proceeds back up the path towards the castle.
You can't move, you can't think. You've just lost your three best friends. You want to speak but your throat feels like sand. You feel Draco slip his hand into yours.
"Love, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" His voice sounds echoey in your ears, like he's far away.
You finally regain the ability to speak. "I have to go." You rip your hand out of his grasp and start walking back towards the castle, not once looking back at Draco.
It's been a week since you've spoken to your friends. They avoid you like the plague in class and during free periods. Hermione and Ron won't even look at you, but Harry will throw you sympathetic glances. Every once in a while you and Harry will engage in short conversation in between classes but nothing more. You can't sit with them at the Gryffindor table so you either sit alone at the Slytherin table or don't go down for meals at all. Draco's starting to be concerned for your well-being. You stay in your room all day and only leave when necessary for class. Draco will sneak you into his room at night but that's really the only time you spend together. Despite your friends knowing, you still haven't gone public with your relationship. You don't believe Draco is ready to tell his friends.
You're laying across his bed on your stomach, textbooks open. You've been reading the same sentence over and over again for about five minutes now. No matter what you do, you just can't seem to focus. You're going to fail all of your exams. You wish Hermione was here.
"Y/n, I'm worried about you." Draco looks over at you from where he's seated at his desk. "You can't stay locked in the dungeons forever. I want to help you feel better."
"What's the point? My friends hate me," you mutter miserably.
"Stop that, they don't hate you. They'll come around, I'm sure of it."
"And what if they don't?"
"Then they weren't really your friends anyways." He turns around in his chair to face you. "As long as we have each other, who cares what anyone else thinks?"
You sit up on his bed, pushing your textbook aside. "Then why haven't you told your friends about us yet?"
His soft expression falls as his face grows stoic. "Can we not talk about this again? I told you, I'm waiting for the right time."
"Are you embarrassed of me?"
He looks like you've just slapped him. "What? No-"
"That's why you don't want to tell anyone about us," you interrupt.
"That's not true," he protests, shaking his head vigorously.
"Then what's the reason?" Your voice is raised now as you sit up on his bed. "I know what your friends are like, Draco, I've lived among them for five years. You can't tell me I'm wrong. Not to mention your parents, you can't deny that they would hate me."
"Maybe I don't want to face the world yet, okay?!" It's like the dams burst inside Draco for the first time. He looked...hurt and scared. "For the first time in my life, I have something good. Something to look forward to, something-no. Someone who makes me very happy. And maybe I'm not ready to share you with the world and have you poisoned by my friends and family!"
He's breathing heavy, nervous sweat trailing along his hairline. He looks like he's been holding this is inside for a while. You don't respond. You just look at him, trying to understand this boy before you.
"You don't understand because your relationship with your friends and family isn't based on status. Your friends and family support you in whatever you do. I've never had that." His head hangs sadly as he avoids your eyes. "Which is why I know your friends will actually come around."
"Draco." You stand and walk over to him. You take his hands in yours, rubbing your thumbs over his fingers. You want to try to give him reassurance but you know what you might be facing. "They're your friends, they'll understand."
"No, you don't understand," he snaps.
"Then help me to understand," you plead. "I'm trying here."
"You will never understand what it's like!" He hisses, snatching his hands out of yours. "You don't have parents who'll disown you the moment you don't do exactly as they say! You don't have friends who don't care about you other than the fact that you're rich and popular!"
For once, you're truly speechless. He's right, you don't know what that's like. Your parents love you, no matter if you're a wizard or a muggle. Sure, they don't really understand you, but they try. Granted, you and your friends aren't speaking right now but you know they care about you. Everything they've ever done for you proves they care for you.
You've never seen Draco like this. Sure, you've gotten into your fair share of arguments, even before you were dating. But he's never opened up to you before like this. He always suppresses his true feelings during arguments.He usually looks like he wants to say something but then never does. His jaw is always set tight as he sits in silence, you doing the same. Eventually one of you will break and apologize first.
Now he's sitting on his bed, facing away from you. You take a seat next to him cautiously, not wanting to upset him anymore. He's never opened up to you about his feelings towards his friends and family and you don't want him to shut down now.
"You're right."
He shifts slightly. He doesn't speak or move anymore. You take this as you sign to continue.
"I don't know what that's like. But I'm sure your parents and your friends care about you more than you think. Some people just have difficulty showing their emotions." You slide your hand through his, resting them on your knee. "Including you."
He scoffs slightly, you ignore it.
"I think," you continue. "sometimes you don't tell me how you really feel about things. I think you bottle a lot of things inside of you. And I think some of it just came out tonight." You chuckle slightly, trying to lighten the mood. When he chimes in, you smile. "I want you to be able to be honest with me. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide things from me."
"I don't want you to think I'm weak," he mutters. "Or a coward."
"I don't think you're those things." You lean your head on his shoulder. "I think you're brilliant and ambitious and confident. You could be a bit nicer but we're going to work on that."
The two of you chuckle and you finally feel like this invisible wall that's been built between you two is starting to fall. He's starting to trust you with things he hasn't shared with others and you feel like maybe there's hope for the two of you after all. Maybe this isn't a doomed relationship between the pureblooded heir and the muggle-born after all.
@wanniiieeee @dontstopxx @kovaillustrations @icedlattewithalmondmilk @heavensent222 @malfoysluvr @cloudroomblog @ashesandblood @itscheybaby @sarahthehuffpuff @relatable-shit @tripleoya @dreams-in-blxck @fandomscombine @dracq
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herexperttrashsoul · 2 days ago
Spring, Autumn, Winter, Summer... and Spring again
The seasons change in habitual monotone for the rest of the world, but Draco always associates the transition of weather with his conjunction with Hermione. Fall together, then apart and then back to the beginning, it’s a whirlwind. A storm. And in the eye of it, standing still, is the boy from the astronomy tower with his heart on his sleeves. Because after all is said and all is done, he is still in love with her.
Hermione Granger comes to his mind at unsuspecting times. While he is reviewing some insipid ministry legislations, just the moment before apparating - that split second dissonance of where he is and where he should be , in the midst of his friends, and he’s almost drunk - almost gives in to the piercing longing and calls out her name. He would like to call out her name even if she isn’t there to hear it; it’s better, even. Her not hearing it, not having something (pity? Sorrow? Some fragmented, distorted version of what he’s feeling?) that urges her to call him back. It is better if she does not realize the extent of the trouble he is in.
And the trouble is that Hermione Granger, with that curly mess of a hair, with brilliant brown eyes, comes uninhibited to his mind like an instinct. When he’s done taking a stroll in his estate - the proud Malfoy estate, when he visits his mother’s tomb.
After he’s made love to his wife.
Made love , he would sneer at the idea if he were cruel, but Draco Malfoy is not cruel - not anymore. He is a remolded, twisted, calcified shell of a man - something that bears all the marks of past and present and shallow dents what he thinks his future is ought to be. He is cynical and proud and hates himself with a vengeance.
But cruelty is something he wrenched out of himself. It hurt, the defense mechanism clawed into his skin and made a rebel. Cruelty wanted to latch onto him like a second skin, a thin membrane forged by years and years of habitude, pale and white and so like him. And he understands the terrible creature - because what is he left with when he lets go of it? A bitter boy - a bitter, rich boy - too scared to do the right thing, too scared to do anything else.
They do not make love, he and his wife. They make duty, they make resolutions to give this relationship another go. The bed frame is made of mahogany, it doesn’t creak with his heated, rhythmic thrusts. But Astoria moans as they continue this ritual every other night and Draco remembers to make the distinction between love and duty because they do not make love. They make mistakes. He should never have married Astoria. He still remembers the faint curl of Granger’s smile when he told her that he was going to get married to Astoria. He remembers how that smile fell, in an instant, like the momentary fluttering of a butterfly when she realized he wasn’t joking.
“Astoria?” she sounded indignant, as if it was an insult. Or a cruel joke. Draco hadn’t meant to be cruel.
“Astoria,” he replied, his voice falling and falling and somehow, with pinchers and a clawed grasp, he pulled it up and answered in the uppity tone he gets when he’s ashamed. “Astoria Greengrass.”
“W-why? I mean.” She pursed her lips, a flushed pinkness on her cheeks. “I mean. When? You never mentioned her.”
“It never came up.”
Why should it? They’re colleagues who are friendly, at best. At best, Hermione Granger has forgiven her hateful classmate, the schoolyard bully. At best he can ask for only a minor, scraped proportion of her time while they discuss the ambiguous history of the twelfth century goblin renaissance. He knows the best possible outcomes of their scenarios by heart. But the worsts - well, they’re ingrained in his brain.
“Do you love her?”
“No.” Perhaps it was cruel, the way he dished that out. But he was still learning. Is still learning. “But we are a perfect match, same background and same… past.”
Granger looked at the verge of bursting out. She looked angry and indignant… and hurt. Draco had to remind himself why indulging in the hollowness of her eyes is not a good idea for either of them - especially her.
“Congratulations,” she snapped, rather crudely.
“Thank you.”
This was the last time he spoke to her. He married a month later, in a perfectly intimate gathering, with a handful of both his and Astoria’s friends. Some colleagues from the ministry. Draco wasn’t cruel enough to invite her.
A month later she returned the favor.
They meet at annual galas and charity events and on the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts. Draco tries not to look as if Hermione Granger is always, always on his mind. The voice replacing his own drawling contempt. The soft, breezy voice that snaps him out of his misery, that pulls it right back in. When he reads books now, or pamphlets or legislations, it’s her voice that recites in his mind. The scent in the most ancient manuscript of his library smells like her. He hadn’t shown her his library. He should have shown her his library before the shackles of expectations and customs came in the way. He should have called her by her name at least once because you can bear regret all your life about something you’ve done. It can bring shame and anger and contempt… But what you don’t say aches. Always remembers to haunt you back.
They meet at a ministry ball and Astoria clutches onto his arm a little tighter. They both pretend not to notice this transgression.
“How have you been?” Granger asks. Ronald Weasley is beside her, looking almost on the verge of blurting some uncomfortable jokes. He can never quite maintain their faux civility.
“Good. Perfect.” And unlike her, Draco is tactful enough to throw the next question at both of them. “And you?”
“We’re fine,” Weasley answers. Granger - she hasn’t changed her name - only offers a small smile.
The room is decorated in floating lights, sparking, golden balls almost like tiny suns parading around their heads. It stops just behind the crown of her head, and for a moment her face is eclipsed by the bright light, nestled between the shadow of her open hair. Draco stares, a little too preposterously, and watches, with an uncomfortable twinge in his heart, her trembling lips.
If Draco were a cruel man he would be glad to learn that she was miserable too.
Their marriage doesn’t last. Draco knew it wouldn’t. Granger is not the sort of person to settle into things. She has to thrive, give her best and get her best. She isn’t like him, or Astoria, even, who knows just when to look away, ignore the agitated beat of their senseless heart. To feed it poison little by little so it would die eventually. But in the meantime it would beat with a soft thump, aching. Hermione wouldn’t know how to bear that.
When she tells him the news of her divorce in a rare visit to his office, he offers congratulations instead of condolences. She doesn’t reply. She stares and stares and stares until he can feel her contempt in his bones.
“I thought you liked me,” she says quietly.
“I do.” He loves her. He’s been headfirst in the never-ending freefall since she greeted him at the beginning of their final year at hogwarts. When the flimsy cover of bias was wrenched away, it was distressingly, embarrassingly easy to like her. The brilliant, kind witch. So easy to talk to her about history and morality and helplessness. It was so easy to know her. Then fall for her.
“Why didn’t you ever -” She closes her eyes. “Why didn’t you ask me out? Or accept when I asked you out?”
“Not good in the long-run. Not good for your future.” He hesitates. “Or mine.”
She looks on the verge of saying something - something cruel perhaps, something he deserves. She has always been the one to dish out what he deserves.
But she doesn’t offer any remark on his cowardice, his inability to take control of his life, or his culpability in ruining it. She scoffs, face twisted in anger, before stomping out of his office, and then his life. 
They don’t talk again for a year after this.
“I don’t think I can ever have children.” Astoria brings up the topic of their infertility on the breakfast table as if it is the most natural thing. When Draco looks up from Granger’s face plastered on the third page of the daily prophet, he finds Astoria spinning the silver spoon in the potency mixture she’s instructed to drink every morning.
She straightens her back. And this time actually looks right at him as if he was the antagonist in her story. “Actually. I know I can’t have them.”
“You know what Pansy said.”
“She is a good healer.” 
“Yes, she is. And I am wise enough to know when I am being coddled like a little child.”
Draco puts the newspaper down, it’s folded carefully so there is no crease on Granger’s smiling face. He doesn’t know what to say. What Astoria says is true, and he is supposed to be upset. Bearing an heir is supposed to be important for them, for the Malfoy dynasty. But every time Astoria brought him another news of their impotency, he felt ridiculously relieved. And for good measure, he would tell himself later. What use is there spreading his genes - his cowardly genes - and bringing a child into a loveless marriage? What could he possibly teach his child about the world? What he knows about life and loss and guilt and shame is something he doesn’t want to admit, which in turn - like a boomerang - spins right back to him. He wouldn’t want to put that on a child. A child deserves a father who is whole. Draco isn’t whole.
“I don’t mind if we can’t have children,” he tells his wife across the table, who always sits across the table.
“And you wouldn’t mind if I gave you ten sons.” She sighs. “You wouldn’t even care.”
The silence crystallizes in the air. There is nothing to answer.
“I think we should just… accept what it is. A failed attempt at following our parents. Yours and mine. I can’t bear it anymore.”
“Astoria -”
“It’s not that you are a terrible husband.” She smiles scornfully. “You aren’t cruel or violent, you just - just don’t care.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought I could live like this. Some of my friends are in so much worse… arrangements, but I can’t. Maybe if you’d -” She chuckled. “If you’d hit me once in a while. Or order me around I might even feel something. But I can’t live with my husband being in love with someone else. Not when I can love him better and he doesn’t even care.”
Words trip over in his tongue. He can’t get them out. For the first time in his marriage, for the very first time in three years, he experiences absolute honesty.
“We’ll tell my parents that you left me because your inability to have children is what broke us apart. So I’d not be blamed. You can do that for me at least. But we’ll tell our friends the truth. I left you . We could tell about the infertility issue, I don’t care. We can tell that’s the reason.”
And he knows it’s not the reason, she knows it’s not the reason. The reason is that he can’t look her in the eyes when he comes inside her, and the choked moan he offers reverbates in his mind like his shame. The reasons are all the times he doesn’t tell her how many ways he is not cheating on her. And she doesn’t deserve this. For the first time in his marriage he sees just how beautiful his wife is. But it doesn’t bring any more shame for him, all he feels is a dull sadness.
“I’m sorry, Astoria.”
“I know.” She purses her lips. “I hope you can work this out someday, you and Granger.”
The morning light through the window glints on the polished crystals on their dining table. The hollowness of Astoria’s goodwill and the hollow of his chest build up a vicious, terrible anger. And the age old contempt, and sadness.
The divorce works out in less than a month. When he tells Granger this she offers her condolences.
It takes him a few weeks more to summon up the courage to talk to her. It’s a hot, humid, summer day. He sits in front of her desk, his index tapping into the mahogany as she tries her absolute best to ignore him. It’s been like this for a few days, he comes into her office during lunch and offers to take her into someplace new. She refuses. He insists. And they talk without talking, glance without staring, and he feels the blinding, irresponsible electricity between them when their shoulders brush unexpectedly, or when she smiles without scoffing.
“Do you know what Astoria said to me at our divorce hearing?” he asks. Suddenly, preposterously, in a blunt stroke of brashness. 
The quill in her hand quivers. But she doesn’t look up. “What?”
“She wished I could work it out with you.”
The quill stops moving altogether. “Work what out?”
“This - this connection. The age old… fondness.”
“Is that her choice of word?”
“It’s mine.”
A fist forms in her hand, the quill breaks in half as she looks up. Right at him. Right through him. “You asshole.”
“I know.”
“You talk about fondness between us? After - after all these - fucking years?”
“I know I am a bit late, but -”
“A bit? Three years! You told me yesterday that marrying her was a bad decision. Well, Draco, I could’ve told you that three years ago.”
In his mind, Hermione smiled at him when he brought that up. In his mind she accepted his apology with a laugh. He stutters, his well-practiced eloquence blatantly failing him, “I -I mean - you married Weasley too… and -”
“Only after you -” She closes her eyes. “I hurt him, Draco. I hurt my friend because I was lonely and you rejected me and I know that is not an excuse, but you - you fucking prick.”
He has never, ever before heard her use this much profanity in a single exchange.
“I’m sorry.” It comes out like a breath. And when he finally says her name - “Hermione.” - it sounds like a long echoed confession.
Her face softens, but not entirely out of fire. Still she huffs, rolls her eyes and settles back in her chair. “You need to do a lot more than apologize.”
“I know.”
“You have to put an end to this messed up habit of punishing yourself.”
“I know.”
“You have to promise me to never let me go again.”
“I will, I’m ready.” Or he thinks he is. But damned if he ever let the terror in his spine to decide something for him ever again.
“But first and foremost.” She tilts her head. “You have to do one very important thing.”
Draco stares at her expectantly. And suddenly a memory comes to his mind, a fleeting, sparse image of Hermione in the Astronomy tower in a spring afternoon, between classes, sharing her notes with him, sharing a piece of her mind with him. He remembers staring at her as she talked and imagining what it would feel like to kiss her.
When she speaks in the cramped chamber of the ministry, he almost feels the breeze of wind at the highest tower of their old school. He almost feels eighteen again.
“You have to ask me out.”
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itsgrangerweasley · a day ago
Ron: *nudges Hermione awake at 3am* do you like me?
Hermione: Ron, I married you.
Ron: But did you marry me as like a friend or—
Hermione: *throws pillow at Ron’s face*
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moonlightdancer26 · 2 days ago
Are the golden trio kind of like the better versions of the marauders?
Yep. They were the improved version of the Marauders - Peter.
Harry was the improved version of James, Ron was the much improved version of Sirius, Hermione was the “improved” version of Remus.
And, had Neville been a Golden trio member (well it wouldn’t be a trio, now would it?), then they all would’ve been improved versions of each Marauder, given that Neville was the improved version of Peter.
So yes, anon, they were the better version of the Marauders.
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acnelli · 2 days ago
@microficmay day 6: Survive [Ron/Harry, rating: GA]
Coffee Shop AU anyone?
The only reason he had managed to survive this shift, had been a pair of impossibly green eyes.
Jesus, that guy was crazy hot.
Ron cleaned the last table. The one green-eyes had only just vacated.
He found a napkin with numbers and words scribbled on it.
'Call me?'
Read on AO3
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literally-just-trashy · 2 days ago
One of my personal favorite Harry Potter head canons is that the weasley twins did in fact know about peter pettigrew through the map, not really knowing who he turly was, and just did not care about it. Like they probably started to notice that some random peter guy was just constantly hangging around Ron 247 and even during his sleep but just did absolutely nothing about it.
"Hey, Fred?"
"Yeah, George?"
"Do you think we should ask Ron about the random peter guy that's constantly with him despite not actually ever seeing him once, or even hearing Ron mention or talk about him?"
"...I mean.. do we have too?"
"Lmao yeah your right who tf cares lol."
Then one day out of the blue Ron comes out to his family about how this guy named Peter pettigrew was actually disguising himself as his beloved pet for the last who knows how long and was actually a servant for the evil dark lord and put both him and his friends in hella danger. So while everyone's comforting Ron about his traumatic encounter, George and Fred just look over at each other with the most knowing and "holy shit we can't tell anyone about this," look.
They never end up telling Ron about all the times they saw peters name on the map.
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reythemandalor · 5 months ago
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ygreczed-hp · 2 months ago
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I just remembered I loved Harry Potter so I am reading the books again after like 10 years -in english, cause I’ve only read it in my native language before
And I asked myself, how come I’ve never drawn ANY HP fanart before ?
Here come some drawings, (aka me trying to get some consistency at drawing the characters)
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beebox-illustrations · 3 months ago
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Oh, What a fun time puberty is….
Halfway through with inktober lads!
Have a nice week 🌻✨🐝
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lilbeanz · 2 months ago
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serendipity-in-love · 4 months ago
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Harry Potter 20th Anniversary: Return to Hogwarts (2022)
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sebandmia · 4 months ago
one of the most special parts about the harry potter reunion was seeing the genuine love between the cast members — especially the golden trio. it means so much to know that they all have an endless love for each other and what they created together as not many film franchise casts have such intrinsic bonds like that after 20 years. and seeing daniel, rupert, and emma still cry over what their experiences mean to them was so cathartic. no matter how much time passes, they will always be an important part of each other’s lives much like how this magical world will always be special to those who adore it. how beautiful is that
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dracomalfloy · a month ago
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"The train rattled onwards, speeding them out into open country."
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ohwhpotter · 4 months ago
After all this time? Always
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rosalyfart · a month ago
Ron is always Harry’s best back up 👍
Excuse the crude nature of these doodles lol I wanted to do this quickly so I wasn’t too precious about it.
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acnelli · a day ago
Black & White
@microficmay Day 10: Black & White [Blaise/Ron, rating: GA]
"One game, Weasley," Zabini pointed at the chess board in front of him, "and if I win, you'll go to Hogsmeade with me."
Ron sat down, turning the board around, so he could play black. He had to give Zabini at least some chance to win, hadn't he?
Read on AO3
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missmrah · a month ago
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Regency themed Harry Potter featuring dubiously researched costumes and furnishings (artistic license was liberally taken). And in case anyone was wondering... yes, I did just binge Bridgerton season 2 😅
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reythemandalor · 5 months ago
Is it a massive injustice that Johnny Depp got fired from the Fantastic Beasts franchise? Yes.
Is Mads Mikkelsen absolutely perfect for the role of Grindelwald? Also yes.
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