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dracowars · 3 years

Note

was gud :) i LOVED your last request, and i can’t believe it was your 1 one - you’re definitely talented!! but i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n has a bruise on her face, bc harry and her had a big fight over draco.. she then tells him (cause he her bf), and draco goes completely crazy, and fights w/ harry in the bathrooms (yk movie typa style) - y/n then thinks that it’s all her fault, after he’s completely bruised and hurt -maybe like a cute fluffy ending? i love what you do xx

guardian | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

word count: 5,0k

summary: where y/n stands up for draco

a/n: thank you for requesting! this got longer than i intended lmao and i changed the plot of the movie a little to fit this one shot! hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, swearing, also harry is pretty nasty here

universe: harry potter

It is a cold, snowy and wintry day at Hogwarts, snowflakes slowly floating out of the greyish clouds above the already in a thick layer of snow covered castle. Christmas is just around the corner and everyone is looking forward to the Christmas holidays and to being able to calm down from the stressful exam periods for a few weeks with their loved ones. You can't wait any longer either, because this year will be something very special.

This year you invited your boyfriend Draco to spend the festive holiday season with you and your family so that you can finally introduce him to them - not that they don't know already who Draco Lucius Malfoy is. Even if you are a Gryffindor and your family has very different views and values than Draco's, they are still accepting him and ready to welcome him with open, warm arms. Unlike your best friends Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Given that you were sent to Gryffindor in your first year at Hogwarts, it was only a matter of time before you befriend the three of them. In fact, you first were friends with the Harry Potter himself before he introduced you to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and he is still one of your best friends until this point in time. However, when you got together with Draco Malfoy, the archenemy of the Golden Trio, they could no longer understand the world. How could someone like you be with someone like him?

Actually, you can't really explain it yourself, but at some point in your fourth year - probably when he asked you to go to the Yule Ball with him - one thing led to another and you found yourself madly in love with the platinum haired boy. Of course you can understand your best friends' view on your boyfriend, they have every reason to not like him, but it still does not give them the right to complain about your relationship over and over again. Instead of helping you with affairs of your and Draco's relationship, they often prefer to ignore you or give the popular answer: 'break up with him then'.

But because they are your closest friends, you (have to) tolerate their behavior, even if it has already caused you numerous sleepless nights. And Draco knows that. He knows how much the friendship with them can hurt you at times, and although he is not really fond of them either, he never once advised you to end your friendship. He is always trying to help you because deep inside he blames himself for making you feel so excluded from them. Because he is your boyfriend.

Several times he has already wondered whether he should break up with you just for the sake of you getting included into their friendship again. But he remained a little selfish and also was not strong enough to do it. He loves you too much.

Today, Harry and Ron made nasty remarks about Draco again right next to you in Potions, without taking into consideration that you were there. Only Hermione didn't get into their conversation and talked to you about the lesson. You don't know if she did it on purpose to distract you, but it luckily worked anyway.

Even so, you are smart enough to know that they talked about it until the end of the class. They talk about him all the time, it seems to have been their number one topic of conversation since the incident.

The incident when you went to the Three Broomsticks together several weeks ago to drink butterbeer and just enjoy yourselves, when you had to watch the poor girl Katie Bell, a Gryffindor from your year, pass out in front of you on the way back to Hogwarts. You helped her immediately and she was taken to the St. Mungo hospital. McGonagall later told you that it was a cursed necklace that was responsible for the accident.

And then it all started.

Harry and Ron were quick to blame Draco for the incident with Katie Bell, even though they had no sufficent proof at all. They were convinced that Draco must have had something to do with it, just because he is Draco Malfoy. And in fact, Draco actually acted strange lately, even towards you, but you would never assume that he would do something so cruel. Their accusions have grown so outrageous that you even had to distance yourself from your once best friends.

Still, you never told Draco about it. You know he would blew up in anger if he knew and since he is acting differently at the moment anyway, you don't want to make him feel even worse. That is why you kept it to yourself until now, to protect him.

After a while, you got closer with, mainly, Hermione again, but the constant reminders of what happened did not stop. Nevertheless you try your best to endure it and that is exactly why you are currently sitting at the Gryffindor table in the festively decorated Great Hall, listening to Harry and Ron's conversation, that, for once, is not about your boyfriend or what he might have done.

At least not until Katie Bell, happy and healthy, suddenly enters the Great Hall again after her absence.

"Harry, over there! Katie Bell is back", Ron whispers and Harry turns around to look for her. Immediately, you lower your fork, that still has food attached to it, and swallow down the lump in your throat, waiting for them to make their next move. To say you have a very bad feeling about this situation is an understatement. "Guys. Let her be, she just arrived-"

"I will go up to her and ask what happened. She will surely confirm that Malfoy gave her the cursed necklace", Harry explains, rudly ignoring your comment while already standing up. Before he leaves, Harry gives you a look that says something in the lines of 'i'll prove to you who you got involved with'.

With tension and anger slowly building up inside of you, because he just won't let it go, you can only watch Harry go away and confront Katie. From her gestures you absoultely can't tell what she is telling your 'best friend', you can only hope that she tells the truth and that it wasn't Draco.

Speaking of which, right in this moment Draco enters the Great Hall and unintentionally walks straight towards Harry, who has just finished his conversation with the victim and doesn't even come back to your table but directly walks in Draco's direction. Draco, realizing that something is wrong, turns around and leaves the hall as quickly as he entered it.

With a jolt you get up from the table, accidentally throwing down your fork to the ground, and run out of the Great Hall, following them. You don't know what Katie told Harry, but it can't be something good considering the look that you saw on Harry's face.

"Harry!", you loudly yell at him when you finally catch up to him in a long, empty hallway with no sign of Draco anywhere. You stop Harry from going further by grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. "Stop chasing him, please. Draco has nothing to do with this", you try to convince him, even though you don't even know what Katie told him, and thoughts, thoughts that should not be there and not even exist, creep into your mind slowly but surely. Thoughts that Draco might actually have something to do with it after all.

"Why are you still protecting him, Y/N?! He cursed Katie Bell, maybe even wanted to kill her and you still don't want me to follow him just because you are so blind of love that you don't even notice the monster that he is?", Harry angrily spats out, pointing his wand at you, which he had already drawn out of his pocket while he was running before. Feeling uncomfortable with a wand so close to your face, you furiously slap it away with your hand.

"Don't you dare to ever talk about him like that again", you threaten Harry, grinding your teeth and clenching your fist in an attempt to not do something any second that you would probably regret. "He is and always will be a ruthless Malfoy, Y/N. So stop playing dumb. We both know that he did it", Harry responds, accompanied by a disappointed shake of his head.

"Do you have any evidence?", you ask, expectantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You don't really want to know if he does because if he really does, it will surely break your heart into pieces. "What evidence does it still need for you to finally understand?", Harry huffs out annoyed. "There is no point in discussing with you anyway. I just want to talk to your boyfriend, so if you would excuse me now."

Without waiting for your answer, he continues to run through the corridor quickly, but the anger in your veins has now become so great that you follow him instantly and, this time more roughly, grab him by the wrist, bringing him to a halt. When he removes his hand from your grip angrily, he accidentally hits you directly in the face, which is why you stumble back a few steps.

Shocked, you cover your face with your hands, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes that form from the stinging pain. Not only do you seem shocked, but Harry himself too. Slowly you remove your trembling hands, only to discover a thick red substance on it. Your stomach makes a flip at the sight. Harry hit you with so much force that your nose is bleeding.

"Y-Y/N. I didn't mean to-", he stumbles over his words, trying to make up for what he did only seconds ago. But maybe this was the one action that you needed to realize what kind of a 'best friend' you have.

Or had.

"You didn't mean to?!", you scoff, trying your best to stop the blood from flooding out of your nostrils. "So this was not what you wanted to do for a long time, huh? Did you not even realize how much you and your antics hurt me already? You always think you know everything better and act like the hero everyone has been waiting for when you should really think about whether you are the actual monster here, Potter."

And with these hurtful words you turn around on your heel and go look out for Draco by yourself, not caring what Harry has to say. Most of all, you wish to never have to exchange a word with him in your life ever again.

Still angry, you stomp through the lonely corridors on your own, hoping to find your boyfriend soon, especially before Harry does. On your way you notice that the blood is already dripping to the ground and thus you are trailing a trail of blood drops behind you. You are just about to wipe the blood off with the back of your hand when you suddenly hear crying echoing through the empty hallway. Without hesitation, you run in the direction of the suppressed sobs that are getting louder and louder the closer you get until you eventually stop in front of the boys bathroom.

You wipe your face with your hand once and crack open the door a tiny bit to be able to get a glimpse inside the room. The bathroom is quite dark and cold and your gaze directly falls onto a figure leaning against one of the sinks, sobbing bitterly. His entire body is shaking from crying, your heart breaking at the sight, and you can see the knuckles on his fragile hands turn white as his grip tightens on the edge of the sink.

"Draco?", you whisper as quietly as possible to not scare him, your voice only inches away from breaking at the sight you are seeing in front of you. He always portrays himself as strong and proud when in reality he is breaking inside. His head snaps up instantly, looking at you standing behind him through the dirty mirror, defintely not expecting you here.

Draco turns around to face you, his shoulders hanging low as he so badly trys to stifle his sobs, not wanting to show him his weak side. Only now you notice the deep dark circles under his beautiful eyes - which have also lost their shimmer - and how emaciated his face is, how thin his entire body has become. Trying not to cry yourself because of the horrible sight, you slowly walk towards him, picking up his sweater he threw on the floor. As soon as you stand in front of him, you carefully take one of his trembling hands in yours, neither of you saying a word.

Your hand gently strokes up his arm until you reach his shoulder and you then place your hand on his neck. You look deep into his eyes, which suddenly seem so helpless and anxious. "I haven't seen you in days.. You look terrible, Draco", you softly pout at him, brushing a tear from his cheek.

"It wasn't me, Y/N. No matter what they say, it really was not me", Draco whimpers silently, taking your hand that previously was on his neck in his, pressing it against his chest, right at the place where his fast pounding heart beats against his skin. His sad eyes, filled with so much pain, seek eye contact with you, his face taking a desperate posture, scared about what will happen. Scared that you will not believe him. "I have been doing a lot of very very bad things lately, but I really did not do anything to that girl. You have to believe me, Y/N! I would never-"

"I believe you, Draco", you interupt him with a reassuring smile, glad that he opend up to you even if it was just a tiny bit, and move a little closer to him, gaze focused on your intertwined hands. "I will always believe you, baby. It hurts me to see you like this."

"You were not supposed to ever see me like this", Draco confesses, lowering his head in defeat. You gently place your hand on his jawline and and lead his face to look at you. "Don't say something like that. We all are allowed to sometimes let down our guard, even a Draco Malfoy is allowed to do so. You can't always be strong. And even if you are hiding something from me, I know that you have a plausible reason for it. Because I trust you, Draco. With my life", you explain, smoothly placing a kiss on his tear stained cheek.

Despite your statement that was supposed to soothe his tense posture, worry, that you can easily identify, creeps into his pale face. Contrary to what you expect - that he is still worried about you not believing him -however, this concern applies to you. "You're bleeding, Y/N!", Draco realizes, frightened, and his cold hands cup your face immediately, examining your face in the most precise way.

Since you have totally forgotten about both your nosebleed and the half-dried blood on your hands, your breath hitches as his thumb lightly brushes your nose. Draco's previously white long-sleeved shirt has blood stains all over it now, as does his sweater that you are still holding in one of your hands. "What happened?", Draco asks with concern in his broken voice as you wipe away the blood with the back of your hand one more time.

While you are looking for a suitable answer and the right words, Draco gets you a towel to prevent the blood from running down your chin. Carefully, he dabs it over the lower part of your face while you convulsively grimace. "When.. when you ran out of the Great Hall after seeing Harry and Katie Bell talk, Harry followed you straight away, but I couldn't let him hurt you or do anything to you, so I went after him. I wanted to stop him and, well, he hit me right in the face with his hand", you describe what happend and Draco's expression that was still worried a few seconds ago suddenly turns into one of pure anger.

"He did what?", he spits out, clenching his fists. "Draco, please. I don't think he did it on purpose, but it finally showed me what kind of friends I have. Don't worry, it is not as bad as it looks like", you give him a loving smile, but even that does not seem to calm him down at all. "Not as bad as it looks?! He hit you bloody, Y/N! He is pathetic if he thinks that he will get away with it that easily. No, not with me. I'm going to find this bastard now and teach him a lesson, once and for all", Draco rages, his jaw clenched as he passes you and goes to the door.

You quickly grab his arm and prevent him from leaving when suddenly said person steps through the door to the bathroom. Draco's muscles tense under your grip. "You!", he yells at Harry immediately, jumping towards him but being held back by you. "You hexed her, didn't you? Why did you curse Katie Bell, Malfoy? What the hell are you up to again?", Harry confronts him, his brows furrowed.

"What did you do to my girlfriend, Potter?! Who do you think you are?", Draco immediately counters and tightly grabs Harry by the collar with his free hand. "I swear to Merlin, I will kill you."

Everything happens so quickly that you don't even realize it at first. Harry throws himself on Draco, who has broken out of your grip, hitting im with his fist directly in the face several times before Draco gains the upper hand and manages to kick Harry off of him, who slams on the floor with a cry. "Stop it you two! Do you want to kill yourselves?!", you step in, but Draco quickly gets up and pushes you to the side.

"Get out of here, Y/N. Now!", he orders, but you don't even think of leaving the two of them alone here. When Harry has straightend up again as well, they both have their wand in their hand, ready to fight. "Now it is time to show what the Chosen One is capable of", Draco provokes and shortly afterwards a red spell is already shooting in his direction. Draco skilfully evades the Expelliarmus spell and uses his own on Harry, also missing his target by a few inches.

"You have no chance against me, Malfoy", Harry mentions before attacking again, this time using Expulso. Draco dodges the spell which then hits the mirrors right between you and him, shattering them into a thousand pieces, the explosion throwing you to the ground. The floor of the room fills with water because the sinks were also damaged and Draco hastily pulls you out of the puddle. "Stay behind me", he quietly tells you, shooting at Harry who takes cover behind the toilet cabin.

For a moment, you do not hear any sound from his direction anymore. Draco's and your quick breath and the running water echo around the cold room. You cling more onto his arm, seeking protection, as you hear Harry's steps in the water. Draco immediately pulls you behind him, finding cover. Carefully, he looks around the corner, only to see Harry at the other end.

In the meantime you have also taken out your wand and listen closely to be able to locate Harry's exact position. Draco kneels down on the wet floor and looks under the cubicles, discovers Harry's feet on the other side and shoots Expulso at him. One of the toilets and cabins breaks under the impact of the spell and more water comes flooding onto the ground.

Draco and you quietly take a step forward to face Harry, but as soon as you do, a curse that you have never heard before flies into your direction. Draco stands in front of you to protect you and gets hit by the spell, stumbling back a few steps before falling to the floor with a splash. A loud scream escapes your throat and you manage to disarm Harry with Expelliarmus.

Whimpering, Draco lies on the floor covered in blood, the water around him turning a dark red color. With a cry you fall on your knees and crawl over to his trembling figure, carefully placing his head on your lap and holding his face in your hands. His body twitches at the pain emanating from the wounds that appear as if they have been slashed with a sword, and his lips quiver, emitting suffering noises.

"No, no, no, no! Look at me, baby. It will be alright, okay? We will fix it", you sob, caressing his cheek with your thumb as tears stream down your face. A shadow covers you as Harry slowly walks towards you. "What did you do? What kind of curse was that, Harry?! Undo it. Now!", you yell at him, your crying only getting worse. Shock and regret are written on his face, his gaze switching to Draco, who is suffering terribly. "Sectumsempra", Harry says in not more than a whisper. He himself does not know what he has done and shakes his head in disbelief, suddenly turning away from you and then he just runs out of the flodded bathroom.

"Come back, you coward! You can't just leave me here!", you shout after him, without succes. He is already gone.

While still holding Draco in your arms, you quickly look around for your wand, which lays in the water a few meters away from you. You carefully stretch in its direction and get hold of it. "Episkey", you whisper repeatedly, trying to stop Draco's bleeding, but to no avail. "HELP! Please, I need help. Someone has to help me", you yell as loud as you can, hopefully drawing someone's attention to you. Draco's breathing becomes faster and more irregular by every second that passes, his body trembling under your touch.

"Hold on, Draco. I will fix this, just stay with me, okay?", you assure him, but slowly lose hope yourself since all of the healing spells you have ever learned are unsuccessful. "I am so sorry..", you cry out, your forehead gently touching his. Now, all you can hear are your sobs and Draco's painful whimpers.

And footsteps.

"What happened here?", Professor Snape suddenly appears in the room, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the young and badly hurt Malfoy in your arms. "P-Potter.. He-", you try to explain but Snape shoves you to the side ungently, taking a closer look at Draco's injuries. He takes out his wand right away and runs the tip over Draco's wounded torso.

"Vulnera Salentur", Snape speaks to himself and you watch the puddle of blood that had formed around Draco's almost lifeless body disappear, as do the blood stains on his white shirt. Except those made of your blood.

His breathing regulates itself again and not waiting one more second, Professor Snape picks him up and directly heads to the door. You quickly follow him without saying a word, just sobbing to yourself all the way to the hospital wing. However, before you can go inside, you are stopped by Madam Pomfrey and can only watch Snape laying down Draco on one of the hospital beds before the door closes in front of you.

Heavily crying you lean against the wall with your back next to the door and let yourself sink to the floor, your knees drawn to your body and your forehead on top of them. Your small figure permeated by your bitter sobs, you don't even notice when the door opens after a few minutes and Snape stands in front of you. "Ms. Y/L/N", he clears his throat, your head shooting up in shock while tears run down your cheeks like waterfalls.

"Will he be okay?", you poud, wiping some of your tears away while standing up. "We assume. He needs a lot of rest", he explains and you nod in approval, sinking down your head. "I won't even bother to ask what happened. But you may want to get treated as well", he adds, pointing to the dried blood that is smeared over your face and hands. "Thank you, Professor, but I would rather stay here and wait", you answer in a sad voice.

"Then why out here?", Snape asks reproachfully, cocking an eyebrow. Confusion written all over your face you stare at him, not understand at all what he is pointing at, and he just crosses his arms with a sigh. "I told Madam Pomfrey about you and your relationship to Mr. Malfoy. She allows you to stay with him as long as you stay quiet", he explains. "O-Of course! I will not make any noise", you assure him and with a nod he leads you into the hospital wing.

Draco is lying on a white hospital bed with closed eyes, the blanket pulled up to his chin, only his head peeking out from underneath. Madam Pomfrey eyes you suspiciously, but still points to a chair next to the bed which you are supposed to sit on. You sit close to the bed and look at Draco with sad eyes, your tears still finding their way over your already damped cheeks. There are bluish purple spots on his face, the result of Harry's punches, and his lip has been treated where it was split open.

"He should regain consciousness soon. I have never treated a student who was under the Sectumsempra curse before. Let us hope for the best", says Madam Pomfrey as she clears some medical bottles from a small table next to you. "You are lucky that Professor Snape was there."

"Thank you, Professor. For everything", you sniff and give him the best warm smile you can manage right now. Snape seems quite surprised at your words, but then nods before leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey also leaves you and Draco alone for now.

The longer you look at Draco and his current condition, the worse the guilt builds up inside of you. You gently touch his forehead with your tembling hand and brush a platinum blonde strand from his face. "It's all my fault", you cry and search for his hand under the covers, which you then carefully take into yours. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Dejected and overwhelmed by guilt, you drop your head and cry relentlessly, your sobs giving the empty room a sorrowful atmosphere. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your hand and look up. Draco's eyelids twitching lightly before his eyes slowly flutter open, his gaze meeting yours. "Hey, darling. What's wrong?", he asks in a hoarse voice, worry spreading over his features.

"You are awake!", you say, even more tears running down your cheeks. "I was so scared, Draco", you sob and he puts his hand on your cheek with a soft smile on his lips. "Look, I'm fine now, Y/N. You don't need to worry anymore", he tries to cheer you up even though you both perfectly know that he is not fine yet.

"If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened. And then I couldn't even help you and there was blood everywhere, your blood, and-", you ramble but his index finger on your trembling lips stops you from doing so. "There is no way that it is your fault, sweetheart. If anyone is to blame, it is Potter", he denies your statement. "B-But you could have die-"

"Stop it, Y/N! If anything, you saved my life. And I would do the same for you. I would go through this pain over and over again if it means that I can protect you", he states and you fall into his arms, his eyes now full of tears as well because in his eyes it looks like you have suffered a lot more than him. All the blood that is still covering your soaked clothes, your hands and your face, shows him that you are in a just as bad of a condition as he is.

"Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth your precious tears, sweetheart", he claims while giving you a tired smile. "I should have never trusted Harry. I didn't know that you could be so wrong about a person", you apologize again. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

Draco, sensing your building up feelings of guilt, tries to sit up a bit but abruptly stops in his movement, hissing in pain. Alarmed, you get up and gently push him back into the mattress. "Does it still hurt? Should I let Madam Pomfrey know?", you ask worriedly and smooth the covers over his so fragile looking body. In your mind already on the way to Madam Pomfrey, Draco only shakes his head in disapproval. "No, I'm fine. Just a little bit sore, that's all", he genuinely smiles at you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him.

Your faces only inches away now you stare into his grey eyes while they roam over your face. "How is your nose?", he asks and his fingers, which found their way to your cheek earlier, lightly brush over the bridge of your nose. His questions makes you huff out and you move away, your cheeks turning in a slightly tint of red. "That is not important right now, Draco. You getting well again is much more important than my nose", you roll your eyes because he is still not paying attention to his own condition that is much worse than yours.

"Not for me", his stubborn self answers, pouding like a child. And before you know it he pulls you back and connects your lips in a loving and cheering kiss. A soft kiss to thank each other for being the other's guardian.

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pebblysand · 3 years

Text

[fic: the wolf's just a puppy (and the door's double-locked)]

Thanks so much to @clarensjoy for organising and to @efikeff for suggesting I take this prompt! I've gone back and forth with this one quite a bit because the wordcount got out of control so I thought I would just pull it out of the ficfest and post it on AO3 instead, which I did a few days ago. But now, I'm like, you know what, actually, why not put it up on tumblr as well? I'm the only idiot who imposes stupid word count requirements on myself haha!

So, anyway, this was (kind of) inspired by prompt #27: Harry and Ginny see how long it takes for Molly to realise they are dating after the war but honestly took on a life of its own. I'm really sorry, probably not what you expected, but here it goes anyway.

Rating: strong t for language and a slight reference to sex

Word count: 4,017

TW: general post-war trauma i suppose

Title from: Holes by Passenger.

You can also read on AO3 here.

the wolf’s just a puppy (and the door’s double-locked)

It's a necklace that does it. Gold, discreet; thin, tiny links around her neck - she's always fancied gold more than she does silver, has always liked the way it reflected the sun through the shop windows in Diagon Alley, the way she imagines it would contrast against her skin. Her parents never had much money for anything, of course, let alone jewellery.

There are two pieces that she owns prior, to her seventeenth birthday. The first one is a tiny bracelet. It doesn't fit her wrist, anymore, but she keeps it in the drawer of her bedside table regardless, like a reminder more than an ornament, something that her mother must have tenderly wrapped around her short, chubby limbs once upon a time when they left St Mungo's in '81. It has a little plaque attached to it: soft, cursive engraving (ginevra w., it reads).

Sometimes, Ginny considers enlarging it. The name ‘Ginevra,’ though, has never truly been hers. She would have to change the script, you see, and every time she thinks about it, it feels a bit like trying to erase a memory from someone else's brain. Ginny, herself, doesn't remember that time in her life, the time when her mother picked the name Ginevra, and somehow, that makes the bracelet Molly’s, rather than hers. It's like stuck in a flickering moment in time, back when Ginny wasn't Ginny, and when her world was about to celebrate the end of a war.

In her own early memories, they were stumbling into another one, already.

The second piece is a ring. A war ring, of sorts. It was carved out of whatever Hogwarts had left to offer, that day, when Luna whispered spells that transfigured wood into metal with a precision that rivalled that of McGonagall. The both of them sat on the floor, in the room of requirement, a cautious ear kept to the ground, watching out for sounds of quick footsteps or pained screams, quiet like hope in a windowless room. 'I would like to be seventeen,' Luna said - that slightly dreamy tone of hers, always. Sometimes, all they wanted, back then, was for a moment of peace that never came, for the scared, second-year boy that sat in the corner of the room with his arms wrapped around his knees, to finally stop crying.

'Here, it's for you,' Luna smiled, dropping the ring into Ginny's palm, a piece of gravel charmed to be mounted like a gemstone. It resembled the face of a horse. 'It's after your Patronus.'

Ginny nodded, that night, tried to force a smile over her features, something that meant: thank you. She slipped the ring down the fourth finger of her left hand and thought of her Patronus. Thought of Harry, too.

Later, her brother died. Later still, they won the war. It is a fact, from what she’s told, so she’s not sure why the wizarding world spends so much time and energy, that year, trying to make itself believe it. There are the celebrations, and the memorials being built, the cracks in the castle walls that they fill with mortar, the wave of their wands in the air. It is a fact because the Prophet says so, because they put Harry’s picture on the front page on the 3rd of May and tell everyone that Tom is dead.

They don’t call him Tom, of course.

Sometimes, Ginny wonders how her parents must have felt, back when the chain still fit around her wrist. She wonders if, when Lily and James died, her mother ever truly felt victorious with her own brothers lying buried deep into the cold earth of a graveyard.

In 1998, when Ginny turns seventeen, the celebrations are a rather loud affair. She lets it happen; it makes her parents happy. Mum yells at the boys as they try to put up the tent in the garden and the cake is enormous, full of all different kinds of chocolates like a tray of Easter eggs. George lets out fireworks that roar loud and powerful at the end of the night.

Nature just hates a vacuum.

A few days before the party, Harry asks: 'What do you want for your birthday?' It is still July, back then, and this is the kind of relationship that they have, now, something that is sometimes fearless and sometimes blatantly transparent. They've snuck out of the house, past the wards and the enchantments meant to keep them safe (to keep him safe) and walked down the streets of the village in the late evening sun. An Auror in plain clothes is following them, she can tell, and Harry's hand is shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket, where she knows he keeps his wand. Their arms brush as their feet graze the cobblestones of the streets – it is what they get these days, for carrying on with life: a trompe-l’oeil of normalcy.

He never had the opportunity to read that book that Ron gave him about charming witches. When he tells her about it, they laugh. She shrugs at him and points out that his favourite way of garnering information has always been to openly and bluntly ask for it, anyway, until he wears everyone out and gets what he wants. Sometimes, people find that annoying, arrogant or aggressive, but she finds it reassuring. Spent an entire year of her life under the Carrows trying to hide in plain sight, and Harry’s somewhat chronic inability to conceal what he thinks is what makes it easier for her to breathe, whenever his arms wrap around her at night. If he wants to know something, he'll ask her. ‘Gin, what happened last year?’ he’ll say, or ‘Gin, do you think it’s my fault if Fred died?’ At night, she knows that she can just close her eyes and let herself trust him.

Many times, in the years that follow, she hears people suggest that he could have been sorted into Slytherin. To her, it ought to have been Ravenclaw. Sure, Harry’s not as clever as Hermione but his thirst for knowledge, facts (truth) is unrivalled. All he's ever wanted, since the day she met him, was to know: what she thinks, all of it, everything, the questions that don't really have answers. Why me, why us, why this.

Personally, she doesn’t think she minds it much, anymore. Not knowing.

So: 'What do you want for your birthday?' he asks rather bluntly and she laughs, bumps her shoulder against his. They can't kiss, not here. Not with the world and the Auror watching. Her parents don’t know – no one really does. It’s not that she wants to keep it a secret - not forever - but this thing they have, it's like hot glass, about to be blown. Fragile, shapeless, delicate. For now, she's afraid that the noise of the world around them might shatter it.

'My Apparition licence,' she laughs in response, her glance quick, finding the escort behind them. ‘To get the fuck out of here.'

That year, her mother’s present is a dress: green with golden seams. ‘I didn't think you'd want a watch, not like the boys,’ she says. So, under the table, George slips Fred's in her hand when no one is looking. ‘He'd want you to have it,’ he whispers - that and nothing else.

Ginny takes it.

She can't breathe.

Her Apparition licence isn’t something that Harry can do anything about (or else, he would probably have granted himself one, first, seeing as the Ministry never did) so he gets her two, separate gifts instead. First, a public-facing one, a utilitarian one. There is a box on the dinner table labelled with her name scribbled in his messy, tiny scroll. Inside, she finds broom wax and shiny, new footrests compatible with her Cleensweep. ‘Ah, thanks,' she grins. ‘I needed this.’ It’s not a lie; they’d talked about it, about her going pro in a couple of years, and her voice is warm and genuine when she addresses him. She likes the present, will actually use it, not like Percy's ridiculous Twenty Things to Think about when Choosing your Post-Hogwarts Path guide that she only mildly tolerated because, well, Percy. Later, though: 'Close your eyes,' Harry says in her ear. He sits behind her on her bed; she feels the light weight of a golden chain against her neck - she breathes again.

When her eyes open, there’s a pendant and a deep-red stone over her chest, about half a centimetre in diameter. It rests against her skin, flat at the back, set in gold. ‘It’s garnet,’ he provides when she turns to look at him.

Ginny smiles. Almost laughs. ‘It’s too much,’ she says, but not like I can’t, more like: it’s beautiful, and, you’re crazy.

There’s something a bit smug and playful in his look. He winks at her, kisses her cheek. 'Don't worry,’ he smiles. ‘I didn't pay for it.'

She laughs at that, raises a curious eyebrow at his turn of phrase. ‘That why you broke into Gringotts, is it?’ she teases. He bursts out a laugh, shakes his head. Kisses the nape of her neck, just over the chain.

‘Nah, I found it,' he shrugs. She’s curious but knows she probably won’t get a straight answer out of him, not now (he is honest but sometimes, he takes his time) so she doesn’t push. Leans into his chest instead, her head against his heart. He adds: 'Just wanted you to have it.'

There are no diamonds between them, just a chain and a stone. No rings, no nothing (not yet, anyway). Not now. Sometimes, life still feels like a thin layer of ice.

Sometimes, it is like concrete under their feet.

That summer (and even in the months that follow) Harry is nervous about her parents finding out about them. Ginny isn't (not really) but on a purely hypothetical level, she does wonder how long it will take for her mother to figure things out. Catch on to what’s been happening right under her nose, so to speak. She probably won't, though. They’re not ready for a fuss, the both of them, so Ginny won’t let it happen.

'I give it two months,' Harry says, one night - they sit in the sun, out in the orchard at The Burrow. For cover, Ron and Hermione are supposed to be with them. Conveniently, they keep disappearing, these two. Like a tacit understanding that Ron mildly tolerates because of the undeniable advantages he gets out of the arrangement. Under Ginny's shirt, Harry's hand is warm. 'Unless your mum is a legilimens. In which case, I'm already fucked.'

Ginny bursts out a laugh in response, a quick peck dropped to the side of his mouth. 'Trust me, she's not. I know Mum. She'll know when I want her to know.'

Against her chin, Ginny feels his thumb pulling her face back to his, eyes directly set on hers. Slowly, his finger moves up, lightly parting her lips. 'Yeah?' he asks. 'Wanna bet?'

Her tongue just about brushes the tip of his finger. She sees him inhale and hums. ‘Maybe? What are we betting?'

His arm drops to the side, mouth now millimetres from hers. There is a slight blush to his cheeks. She knows that he is shier with these things than he lets on. 'I can think of a number of things.'

She smiles, kisses him. I’m sure you can, she thinks.

(He loses the bet. Obviously.)

That autumn, Ginny goes back to school. That is an odd thing that happens. Most days, she's not sure what to make of it. Sometimes, she picks up her bag from the floor in the Great Hall and underneath, she finds blood. She knows it isn't there (it's in her head) but it feels real, nonetheless. Thick and slippery between her fingers.

She thinks of Fred.

Harry's in London. He belongs there, she can tell, has found a home, a big city that is it, for him. There, he can be everyone and no one, and people don’t look at him twice when he crosses the street. He goes to the pub, has pints with his mates, attends Muggle gigs and settles into being eighteen and alive. He comes up to Hogsmeade to see her, that one time, and they have sex for the first time. She initiates it, hadn't really planned for it to happen but then his hand is on her bum and they’re snogging at the back of the Hogshead and she thinks: why not? Why not book a room, why not do something just because they’re young, just because they’re alive, just because they can? It's probably, objectively not that great, but it’s everything she wanted. He stares up at the ceiling afterwards like she's hung the moon up there in place of the chandelier and she kisses him, and he smiles against her lips - they're her favourite: his smiling kisses. They're a bit rare, still, thus a bit precious.

She doesn't want people to ask, most of the time, so she keeps the chain he gave her under her shirts and jumpers, that year. He's far from her more often than he is near so she also likes it (likes him, by extension) close to her skin. In her head, she protects him from the cold, from Quidditch trainings, from gossip, and through the tiny, gold links, her heart beats against his. They write. It is not his preferred method of communication but he tries. Ginny shares a room with Hermione and when she lies in bed, writing back to him (long, winding letters where she shapes riveting adventures out of her now boring Hogwarts routine), her feet lifted up behind her and crossed at the ankles, her dorm-mate says: 'Say “hi” to Harry for me, will you?'

She's either the worst or the best thing that's ever happened to the world, Hermione.

Once, in the middle of a study session, Ginny runs her fingers over the collar of her t-shirt and there is a look on Harry’s best friend’s face, a 2-AM look of questions that need to be asked. Hermione sighs, leans back in her chair, toys with a mug of tea that’s gone cold too long ago. ‘It’s garnet, isn’t it?’ she asks. ‘The stone. Not ruby.’

Ginny’s necklace is showing, she realises, and it’s just the both of them left looking over class notes in the Common Room. Her fingers automatically run against the gold and Hermione’s one of the only people who have actually seen the stone, this year – it’s not an easy thing to hide in such a small bedroom. Ginny’s gaze lifts to meet hers, jaw set and dark brown eyes. ‘Yeah,’ she says.

Hermione lets out a short sigh when she nods, knowing. ‘January, then,’ she observes. It isn’t a question, so Ginny doesn’t answer, just letting her quill rest at the edge of her middle finger, suspended. Silent, she watches as Hermione smiles, cold, and when her next words come out, there’s a slightly ruthless edge to them, like if you hurt him I will kill you, and that’s a fact, not a threat. 'It probably meant a lot to him, you know,' she adds and Ginny nods again, holds her gaze for a moment, before going back to her potions book.

‘I know.’

Harry’s chain remains a secret to everyone else until the summer of '99. The summer after the anniversary, after the tears and the remembrance ceremonies. Then, it becomes a thing, only because Ginny lets it. She stops watching her back, stops hiding it under her jumpers, because they're ready. Harry, herself, her parents – she wakes up one day and figures: it will be okay, if people know. One morning in July, Harry Floos over for breakfast and when he gets to The Burrow, 'Ginevra Molly Weasley,’ her mother suddenly articulates as her eyes narrow over the kitchen table. ‘What in Merlin’s name is that?'

Molly is loud, that morning, pots and pans long forgotten on the stove, fingers already reaching around Ginny's neck. Her daughter pretends to shrug her off.

‘Where on Earth did you get money for this?' Molly roars. 'This is -' her arms are crossed over her chest; Ginny just smiles. This is it, isn’t it? 'This is gold, how did you-?'

That morning, in the soft, earl light, instead of paying attention to her mother, Ginny's glance is focused on Harry's. Do you want me to lie? she silently asks him and he stands awkwardly in the doorway, like fear and courage are fighting each other at the pit of his stomach. She sees him sigh, look to his feet and suddenly, there is the ghost of a smile across his lips, a quiet nod, like Godric Gryffindor is finally awarded a reluctant win. Ginny doesn't think he would have won before, certainly not last summer, and it is a testament to how much they've grown that he does, now.

'It was given to me,' Ginny says, finally turning to face her mother. Molly frowns and looks, if possible, even more aggravated.

'And, who gave this to you, may I ask?'

Determinedly, Ginny's gaze drifts from her mother back to Harry. She sees him swallow heavily (but again, in a this-had-to-happen-eventually sort of way), and she says: 'Well, Harry, actually.'

Her mother’s mouth opens, then. Closes. A few times. Molly’s brain seems to scour her memory for details, facts that might explain this - for a moment (a rather, triumphant moment, as far as Ginny is concerned), they seem to have made her mother speechless.

Nature hates a vacuum, though, as has been previously established, so the next words that file out of Ginny's mouth are said on instinct, without too much thought, just to fill the silence between the three of them, unwarranted. 'It was his mother's,' she says.

And, after (after the yelling, and the speech, and the 'You could have told us!' - although, 'Oh, it was your mother's, Harry dear,' - and, after the stern look that Bill gives them which Ginny knows is fake), her mum bakes pie, that day. When her dad gets home from the Ministry, there is a moment of confusion, then an awkward explanation, and he pauses for a second or two before firmly shaking Harry's hand. By then, The Boy Who Lived has turned into a soft shade of embarrassed and nervous scarlet, and her father, rather solemnly, invites him over to the sitting room with a tumbler of Firewhiskey. George laughs (that is rare - it almost sounds like a memory) and, 'Ah, I bloody knew it!' he says ('Language, George!'). And, that summer, the day when Harry and she become a 'thing,' is the day when sprinkles of the old 'normal' start blending into the new. She misses Fred, that day more than ever, because this is a snippet of their lives that he’ll never get to see, but maybe, they've started to feel a little less scared, recently. She and Harry wanted to see how long her mother would take to figure things out but she couldn't have found out, not before now. They weren’t ready. None of them were.

Late that evening, Harry stands outside, look cast out to the garden - his trainers shuffle the grass under his feet. 'It wasn't that bad,' he admits. The both of them stand close but don't touch; he looks up and finds her gaze. 'I wasn't sure you knew.'

Ginny smiles. The tips of her fingers dance over the back of his hand until he relents, lets them wrap around his. 'How could I not?' she asks.

He shrugs. Sometimes, she forgets that he didn’t grow up here. That he doesn’t know that every kid in their world knows that his mother was born on the 30th of January and died on the 31st of October 1981, that in less than five years, they’ll both be older than she could ever be.

This, right there, is the sad part, Ginny knows. One of the many sad parts, as a matter of fact. Because today, Ginny’s mother found out about them, and she got to yell and to smile, and to give aggravated looks all at once, in a way that Lily never will. His mother, she left a birthstone and a gold necklace behind her, but she’ll never get to hug her son again, never get to watch him, eighteen and shy, as he kisses a girl under the moonlight. And, because of that, that evening, Ginny grips at the chain that rests against her skin harder than she ever has before, like something missing that they’ll never get back. Harry will never have the things she has (her father walking her down the aisle, her mother weeping on Bill’s shoulder, sobbing, ‘My little girl!’) but Ginny, well, she’ll never be anyone’s daughter-in-law. That fact, that simple, tangible fact, makes her heart ache in a way that it never has before. Now that they can touch, she feels her left hand squeezing his fingers in the dark.

'I found it in their vault a few summers ago,' he explains, speaks again, apropos of everything and nothing, to fill the empty space between them. He’s looking at the ground. 'I wasn’t sure you’d want it,’ he admits. ‘If I told you it was hers.'

'Why?' she asks. 'Because she's gone?'

And, that seems odd, in her head. She wonders what he thought. Wonders if perhaps, it was a fear of bad luck. Or if maybe, he thought she’d be scared, scared like people who fear the dead, forgetting that it is always the living who try to kill you. In the dark, next to her, Harry stares straight ahead. Watching the side of his face, she notices his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 'It's a lot, Gin.'

And, ‘Yeah,’ she thinks, says. Maybe, it is. Between them, she gives his hand a little squeeze again. And, in the end, the fact that she agrees does seem to surprise him, surprise him enough that their looks finally meet. 'I wear Fred’s watch, you know?’ she breathes. ‘I chose you, Harry. I can handle this. Past and present, I can handle you. I'm a lot, too.'

He looks at her, then, and something grazes his mouth, something between a sigh and a smile. He looks straight into her eyes. 'I think I'm in love with you,' he says.

And, it's her turn, now, to feel her own look narrow, facing his. They've never talked about it - not really – because their relationship has always been something a bit special, like its own, safe, little bubble that they were afraid to burst. Yet, suddenly, it dawns on her and it’s glaringly obvious: this - this - is what love is, but how could they have known? How do you know to put words on something that you've never felt before, like you're burning a candle and trying to describe its smell for the first time? Harry's rare smile is slightly nervous, watching her, and when Ginny looks at him, she finds that maybe, hers is, too. It's scary - this beautiful, fragile thing that they've both jumped head-first into after the armistice was called. They didn't think about it too much, after the war ended, but here they are, a year later, and the feelings that they've let grow have a name that they can't hold back, not anymore. It's grounding - love - like a frozen mountain lake or a cosy winter fire - peaceful and steady, until it runs wild and tries to kill you.

Well, dear big, scary world, she thinks. Try me. Try us. The whole lot of you against the whole lot of us. We're a fucking lot, too.

That night, Ginny nods at Harry and kisses him in the dark.

'You know what?' she says. 'I think I am, too.'

--------

Liked it? Want more stories like this? You can find some here or here and find my original writing here. If you would like to help me justify the truly unreasonable amount of time I spend writing, you can consider donating to my tipee writing fund, here.

Thanks very much for reading!

#hinny ficfest #hinny #hinny fic #harry potter fic #ginny weasley #harry potter #george weasley #hermione granger #molly weasley #hp fic #hp ficlet

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beiasluv · 3 years

Text

‘See you again’ / Newt Scamander x (fem!)Reader / pt.2

Hey guys i’m back! this following imagines is the sequence to the first part, check it out HERE.

words count: 1,161 words

warning(s): mentioned of pain

soulmate AUs: name appear on wirst when 17.

(y/n) = your name / (y/bf/n) your best-friend name

*english is not my mother-language please forgive any mistake i might have made*

ENJOY!

---

‘happy birthday dear (y/n) happy birthday to you,’ with that (y/n) closed her eyes, her eyebrows twitched by making a wish. the fire was extinguished; vanished left a burning smoke behind. the room erupted with cheers and congratulations from your family and friends.

it is 7:36 the exact time you were born at st. mungo’s; what a time to be alive, you are finally 17 years old. which means your soulmate's name would appear at midnight soon tonight. you wouldn’t say you are not excited but you just can’t imagine who is going to be your soulmate, for the sake that you don’t even have a boyfriend/girlfriend. it could be anyone now, a friend at school, some stranger, or maybe a muggle. otherwise, you are rather excited for who it is.

‘honey? would you mind feeding the hippogriffs for today? i’m sorry it was supposed to be a special day for you but my boss is calling me an-,’ your mum was cut off and words stop falling from her mouth.

‘it’s okay mum i can do it,’ you smiled lovingly to your mother. ‘thank you dear, i would grab sweets on the way back, i have to go now stay safe honey!’ mother grabbed her coat and ran through the door.

‘Oh! (y/n) dear! make sure to watch for your wrist!’ she apparated away.

‘hey guys,’ you entered the shed of the hippogriffs. (y/n) maneuvered around the shed and grabbed five buckets of fresh fish. ‘ugh! i don’t know how you guys eat this,’ (y/n) gave a disgusted look to the fishes. ‘i can do it, there’s no need to fear anything, just be calm with them,’ you took a deep breath and a long one out.

each step you walk to the gate your heart beats faster and faster, and you feel like it was about to explode itself. the memory of the day your brother fall off the hippogriff, played back each step. it happened right here at this place. but (sadly for dad) luckily that hippogriff was brought by your very own school, hogwarts, so you were learning with that very hippogriff that dropped your brother in the care for magical creatures. with your little strength, you have arrived at the gate of the famous hippogriff bredder farm.

one final push the gate is opened, several hippogriffs head snatched to your way. you gasped for breath like your life is going to end. step by step your legs brought you to the middle of the farm you dumped the five buckets in. luckily your dad taught the hippogriffs to have manners, they’ll always wait until the buckets are fully empty. then they’ll dig in.

‘oh! merlin’s beard!’ the hippogriffs came right into your face. (y/n) dashed away a few of them and ran to the gate. her legs don’t seem to be scared anymore, she felt like she is running very fast that she can do the olympics. a second later she had arrived, outside the gate. ‘phew, that was a close call,’ she walked back to the house and decided to call it a day.

---

‘night orion,’ (y/n) strolled past her brother’s bedroom. ‘night (y/n)! oh! be careful about your wrist my friends said it hurts like hell,’ orion poked his head out of the door his eyes were full of worry. ‘thanks ori, i’ll see you tomorrow then,’ you gave a weary smile and he was gone.

speaking of care for magical, you are assigned to write an essay about one creature that inspired you, and describe everything about it. wheater is about caring, habitats, behaviors, appearance, you named it.

‘i’ll guess i’ll just write the essay until my soulmate's name comes up then,’ that you grab your hogwarts trunk, unlock the password. for the first time, you opened your trunk this summer, you were in awe when she saw a gift from her friends with a note attached.

(y/n) put the stuff on the side, and she seized the ink bottle and some parchments, but she can’t start your work without the Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them book. ‘accio Fantastic Beast!’ for sure (y/n) would take the chance to use magic since she is finally not underaged. you scribbled your thought down the first sketch. each sketch you connected the paragraphs, making sure about your words and cut un-necessary pieces of information out.

after several hours (y/n) looked up at the clock to read the time, and the clock's little finger was pointing between number 11 and the number 12. same with the long finger. ‘it could be any minute soon,’ (y/n) let out a long sighed. many minutes had passed (y/n) is now sleeping on her table waiting for her soulmate’s name.

not long after her wrist felt like being dipped into a fire. her wrist is burning as the letter formed, (y/n) didn’t notice the name since her eyes were filled with tears. the pain was eating her bit by bit. (y/n) decided to run to her brother. ‘orion!’ she called out as she was crying in the hallway. ‘(y/n)!’ orion ran and hugged you, he was worried for this day the most the day his sister knows her soulmate.

---

(y/n) never failed to do the big sister job in his eyes, and he realized he was gifted with the best sister in the whole world. he would do anything to protect his big sister, when he saw her tears it hurts him so bad.

‘(y/n) please show me your wrist,’ orion slowly reached for your hand and examined the burn. ‘N E W T O N, hm newton doesn’t sound so bad isn’t it?’ orion tried to cheer you up. ‘huh? did you say newton?-,’ (y/n) tried to open her dried up eyes. ‘tell me the last name,’ (y/n) requested her brother for assistance in seeing. ‘it’s S C A M A N D E R, salamander? scamander?’

‘Newton- newton scamader?’

‘BLOODY HELL, you won’t believe it orion-’ (y/n) sprung herself up and ran to her room. ‘wha- what?’ leaving her confused brother behind. he saw (y/n) holding a piece of paper, looking as new as it was manufactured yesterday, and a thick book. ‘what’s that (y/n)?’ orion squinted his eyes to see the text. ‘i’ve met him at hogsmeade when i was getting the Fantastic Beast book, and guess what- he wrote the bloody book himself!’ (y/n) rant about her stupidity forced the book into her brother's face. ‘i should’ve known it was him!’ (y/n) sighed and collapsed on the floor.

‘ms. (l/n) did you forget something?’ orion scoffed at you. ‘what’s funny? i didn’t forget anything? oH! the laundry?’ you rushed to answer yourself. ‘no you idiot don’t you see his address? on the bloody paper?’ orion shoved the paper right in front of your eyes.

‘go find him.’

part three? :)

#newt scamander #Newton Artemis Fido Scamander #newt scamander imagines #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x you #newt scamander fanfiction #fantastic beast #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #slytherin

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