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on1f150 · 2 years

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Loss and Love | cedricdiggory x reader

prompt: you and cedric are both chosen for the triwizard tournament but he ends up dying in your arms a/n: huge huge angst. also cedric dies in a different way and this was longer than expected so i hope its good :)

When you and Cedric Diggory were both chosen for the not so “tri” wizard tournament, it was a complete shock. Both of you were the best of friends and had been dared by each other to put the name in the goblet. After Dumbledore called your names, you were both thrilled to not only be participating in the tournament but participating in it together.

You both liked each other. A lot. And become even closer in the tournament definitely did not help trying to get over the crush.

“Hey.” You heard a knock on your one bed dorm. It was nice being alone because people could visit whenever they liked without annoying your dorm mates.

“Hey, Ced.” You recognized the boy by his voice. You both sounded extremely tired because you were. The last task was tomorrow and it was going to be the hardest of them all.

“You alright?” His voice echoed into your room as he stood by the doorway. You turned around from your desk and saw him. His rosy cheeks that made you melt, his honey colored hair that you loved playing with, and his fricking smile. His adorable smile.

“Yea, just really tired. And worried.” You stood up and walked to him. Your eyes met and held a longing, comfortable stare. The corner of Cedric’s eyes crinkled as he smiled weakly.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. We passed the last two challenges without dying. I’m sure we can get through this one.” He put both hands on your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. You still smelled his fainting cologne and relaxed in his touch.

“Thank you, Cedric.” You sighed as you reluctantly pulled away due to the time, which was 11pm. “Gotta go sleep. See you tomorrow, Cedric.” You walked into your bed and flew yourself onto it. Cedric just stood by the doorway, watching your drift into sleep. He smiled sadly.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” He whispered.

➵ ♆

The next morning didn’t lift your mood up even though almost everyone cheered you on or wished you and Cedric good luck.

“Come on, Y/n. You’ll both be fine.” Zacharias Smith helped get your some eggs and a piece toast on your plate.

“Yea, you guys crushed the last two tournaments. The third will be a breeze. Plus you still have till tonight. Just revise some spells or something. I think Dumbledore said you just needed wands for this one.” Another friend of yours comforted.

“Thanks, guys. I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t worry that much.” You gloomily ate the bread.

“Look. Cedric doesn’t have a worry in his mind.” Hannah Abott pointed the the person sitting next to you. He looked like his regular self. Munching on sausages and reading the prophet.

“Well, he’s so much smarter than me anyways.”

“Uhh, yea no. You are the master at charms and DADA and... well everything.” Cedric said. You laughed at his compliment.

➵ ♆

The sun was setting and it was almost time. You put on your Hufflepuff shirt that you were supposed to wear during the last task. You grabbed your wand and headed out your dorm. Everyone else was already at the stadium so the common room was empty except one other person.

“Cedric?” You couldn’t make out the person near the door because of the pile of books that sat in front of him.

“Oh hey, Y/n. You ready?” asked Cedric as he emerged from the books. He was wearing the same shirt as you except it looked a lot better on him than you.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You pulled open the door and began walking down to the courtyard where the task was going to be held.

“Eh well whatever. Didn’t want to be down there with so much people anyways.” He jogged up to your side as you walked down the stair cases. No one talked until you both reached the entrance of the small stadium where Viktor, Fleur, and Harry were standing. Harry did a small wave at you in which you returned. He looked just as nervous as you were but Moody seemed to have said something to make him relax.

“Y/n.” Cedric placed an arm on your shoulder and turned you around to face him. “It’s going to be just fine. I’m guess this whole task is a maze, looking at all the grass and stuff. Let’s just stick together okay?”

You only muttered a small okay back, but he seemed to have heard it. He gave you a small smile and snaked his hand towards yours as you both turned back around to face the stadium. Your hands both grasped each others as Dumbledore explained the rules.

And that’s when it started. The headmaster gave the signal and you were all sent into the maze. You lost sight of Cedric already. It was so dark and the hedges were so thin, you could barely squeeze through the thorns. A scream was heard and you instinctively followed it. It sounded like Fleur’s and whatever it was, it sound like she was in need of help.

You swerved through the corners and ran faster as Fleur’s screams came closer. You could swear you were almost there until you weren’t. It wasn’t her screams at all. It was a spider’s callings. A huge spider clambered it’s ways towards you.

“Shit!” You fell and picked your self back up as you ran as fast as you could. You dared not look back because you didn’t need to. The spider’s legs were thundering right behind you. You yelled spells so fast you were surprised they even came out because half of them sounded like gibberish.

“Incarcerous!” You stopped and turned around, yelling the spell with all your might. You begged this would work or else that spider would stomp you to death. Ropes from your wand sprouted out and pinned the spider to the ground. But it was only enough to stall it so you could run only a tad bit farther.

You ran as fast as you could and took as many corners as you could. You halted to catch your breath and asked yourself how the hell you managed to run that fast without breaking your lungs. Fearing the spider was still coming after you, you hid in between a few branches in the hedges and held your breath, listening for its footsteps. There were none and you relaxed.

Then he came to your mind. Cedric. You needed to find him and tell him you were okay. And see if he was okay. Your thoughts were interrupted by sudden human footsteps. They were running towards your direction. You didn’t flee, you kept your wand up and slowly moved back. It could be Cedric or it could be some other monster.

It was Cedric.

“Cedric!” You ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Y/n! I’m so glad your safe but we have to go.” He grabbed your wrist and made you run with him.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s Viktor. He’s turned bad. His eyes are white.” The brown hair boy panted. His face had rubble on it and a few scars but he wasn’t gravely injured given that he could still run quite quick. You didn’t answer but just kept running by his side. You looked at his face and admired his features. It was so wrong to be doing this during such a situation but you couldn’t help but notice how his hair blew into his face as the wind blew to him.

But you didn’t notice the stupid rock that was in front of you. Your left foot hit the rock and you fell forward, slamming your face onto the wet, muddy grass. You could hear Viktor’s running towards your direction. While you scrambled to get up, Krum already saw you two.

“Stop, Krum!” Cedric stepped in front of you, raising his wand in a protective stance. “This isn’t you. You’re under the Imperius curse aren’t you?”

Krum changed his focus from you to Cedric. He still had life in him, but he seemed to have ignored what Cedric said.

“No! Cedric!” You leapt to your feet and tried to pull Krum who flung himself onto your best friend. Krum was as heavy as a boulder and pinned Cedric to the ground.

“Y/n! Just go! He’s going to curse you. He’s much more skilled than all of us!” Cedric managed to yell. Viktor put his left hand onto Cedric’s chest as he fumbled for his wand with his right hand. Before you could yell any counter curse, Viktor already pushed you into the hedge and the vines began to drag you in.

“Cedric!” You tried to fight off the vines but even more came and wrapped around your legs. You were immobilized and couldn’t do anything as the hedges closed around you.

“Stupefy!” A familiar voice rang. It was Harry Potter’s. “Cedric are you alright?” Cedric didn’t respond and instead rushed to where you were pulled in.

“Bombarda!” exclaimed Cedric. The hedges blew up and made a clear passageway to where you were.

“Cedric, what happened to Krum?!” You frantically asked as Harry and Cedric tore the vines that were tightening around your shins.

“Harry, got him. Ran somewhere else. Are you okay? I thought they had you.” Cedric’s hands ran through your face, brushing off the rubble and dirt.

“Thanks, Harry.” You finally got released from the vines and thanked the Chosen One. He gave a small smile back. “And Fleur?” You asked, suddenly remembering how you saw everyone but her.

“The vines got her. I sent some sparks, she’s probably safe now.”

“Alright.”

All three of you began to walk together through the maze, not exactly sure what you were looking for. You and Cedric were holding hands again and Harry walked along side the both of you, cautiously looking around for any other signs of danger. A faint blue glow at the end of the long passage way caused all of you to turn your attention to it. It was the cup.

In the flash of a blink, all of you started to run towards the cup. A sudden surge of greed entered all of your minds. Cedric and Harry pushed and pulled each other as they were fighting for the cup. You wanted to win too but you’ve never seen Cedric act like that. So greedy. So violent.

“Stop, Harry! Stop, Cedric!” You yelled as the two boys still tugged at each other. The hedges behind you were quickly closing in. You took hold of Cedric’s arm and tried to tell him to stop.

“Get off me!” He yelled as he pushed you back. Shocked, you ran past them. If they were going to fight, better not be involved with it. You were both ahead of them and closer to the cup, but a sudden scream stopped you.

Cedric was on the floor and bound by those vines. He was being pulled back like the vines were living things. Hungry for someone. You looked at him and at the cup then back at him.

“Please, Y/n! Harry!” His hands tried to grab hold of something to pull him back up, but the vines were too strong.

You looked at the cup and Harry once more. The 4th year nodded and both of you aimed your wands at Cedric.

“Reducto!” You and Harry shouted. The vines turned to dust and Cedric quickly stood back up.

“Thank you. I thought you guys would leave me there.” He panted as he brushed left over vines on his shirt.

“Honestly, me too.” You jokingly responded. The three of you laughed despite the current life or death dilemma.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, Y/n,” apologized Cedric suddenly. “I have no clue why-”

“It’s okay. In the midst of whatever’s happening right now, I know it wasn’t you that pushed me. You would never do such a thing.” You looked into his brown eyes.

“Er, uhm. We gotta do something. Those hedges are closing in on us.” Harry blurted out. “Who gets the cup?” He hesitantly questioned.

“Let’s just all get it. Does it really matter now?” Cedric suggested. You and Harry agreed and broke off into a run. The hedges were inches from grabbing you three. You all leapt and grabbed the cup. You felt yourself being picked up from your feet. What was happening?

Suddenly, the three of you fell onto more hard grass. Your head span for a few seconds until adjusting yourself to the scene.

“It’s a portkey.” You heard Cedric brilliantly remark. “And where are we?”

“Yea, where the hell are we?” You slowly stood up, using a random stone to help you up. The random stone wasn’t a stone at all. It was a huge statue. “What the?” You whispered.

“A graveyard. At least I think it’s a graveyard.” Harry was walking around as well. He knew they were there because of him. He put both you and Cedric in danger. Then something caught his eye. A grave.

“Cedric, Y/n we have to get back to the cup,” panicked Harry as he kneeled down to read the grave. It had the surname none other than Riddle.

“Harry what’s going on?” You asked, getting scared. Someone emerged from somewhere in the graveyard and Harry suddenly screamed. His hand flew to his scar.

“Harry! What’s happening?” You and Cedric knelt down to help the boy in pain.

“Get back to the cup!” Harry commanded before adding another haunting scream. The person who emerged was a short man. He was holding something. A baby of some sort but it was like a skeleton.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Cedric raised his wand.

“Kill the spares.” A voice hissed. A jet of red blasted out of the man’s wand. Cedric suddenly yelled in pain as he fell to the floor.

“AAAH! STOP! STOP!” shouted Cedric. His body was twitching to uncontrollable amounts. You rushed over to Cedric’s side. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head while the red spell kept making him twitch. The man then directed his aim to you. Another red spark hit you. It was the Cruciatus curse.

Pain shot through your body as you tried to fight it off. It felt like your body was lit on fire as knives from all over pierced every part of your body.

“No, Y/n! Cedric!” You heard Harry plead. “Don’t kill them! You want me right? I’m right here! Leave them alone!”

The pain finally stopped and you both laid on the ground, almost lifeless.

“Cedric...” You used the last bit of energy to crawl to him. “It’s going to be ok.” You lied as you situated yourself beside him. You held his hand as he slowly turned his head to look at you. Everything was blurry. The only thing you could make out was Harry being bound by some moving statue. And some bald man walking to him.

You never would’ve guessed that these would be the last few minutes of your life. You couldn’t move a single limb as you were too tired to.

“Y/n...” Cedric rasped. “I love you. And I’m just really glad that we’ll die together.” He smiled. His stupid smile.

You tried to fight your eyelids open as you felt your heart almost give in.

“I love you, too.” The words of death left your mouth as both of your battles finally fell into an abyss of loss and love.

#cedric diggory #cedric x reader #cedricdiggory x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader

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kuroosmikasavolleyball · 3 years

Text

Her Game

Abendrot

(n) the color of the sky when the sun is setting; a certain afterglow.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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a/n: I’m so sorry this is late! I got really busy with school work and other stuff and Part 4 wasn’t ready to post on Sunday. Here it is though, I hope you enjoy. This is the second to last part of the series(I think). I hope you understand the connection to the series title now a little bit but it gets better😏 I don’t know if this counts as slow-burn but…yeah. Anyways, feel free to like, republish, and message me. Requests and taglists are open! This is a safe and loving place for everyone and any hate will be shut down. Enjoy reading<3

Part 4 summary: Ravenclaw and Slytherin verse in the second and last quidditch game of the season. New strategies, doubt, nervousness from what happened earlier is bundled up for (Y/N), and all she needs to focus on is winning this game. Will Slytherin take the win and bragging rights, or will Ravenclaw emerge victorious?

pairing: cedric x fem!reader(in ravenclaw)

genre: fluff

warnings: uh nothing

word count: 1.6k(how did this happen-)

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“What’s got your mood down the drain?”

Kimball peers at (Y/N)’s woeful face, “Don’t tell me you’re nervous; this new plan has already got me shaky.”

She would’ve told Kimball what had happened last night if Roger wasn’t right next to her.

(Y/N) leans her head on the palm of her hand. “It’s nothing. Can we just continue planning, please?” Roger looks at her, a bit worried as well.

“Maybe..this plan should stay a draft. I’ll go tell the team.” Roger almost gets up but (Y/N) stops him. “No, wait. I’m ok; I promise. Let’s do this.”

Fred and George walk in and (Y/N) speaks, “Just gimme a sec.” and goes towards them.

“Hey hey! How’s my favorite Ravenclaw?” Fred ruffles her hair and she swats the hand away.

“She’s..ok I guess. Kimball and Roger came up with a plan yesterday and somehow the whole team liked it. We’re gonna test it out during the pre-game practice but I’m a little terrified.”

“You smarties always come up with something, huh? Don’t worry about it; you’ll be great. I even got my special edition Ravenclaw hat!” George playfully lifts a blue and bronze homemade hat made by Mrs. Weasley. (Y/N) has the same kind for Gryffindor, but she’s smart enough not to wear it in public.

“You don’t have to cheer me up; I’m fine. By the way, have you seen Ced? He hasn’t come down for breakfast yet.”

“Nope, we haven’t; he must be off on his ~prefect duties~.”

George scrunches up his face in disgust.

They say their goodbyes and head to the Gryffindor table. Just as (Y/N) is about to go looking for Cedric, he walks in with a painful expression.

“God, I should’ve listened to you, these hangovers are not worth it.”

Huh? How is that his first sentence? Doesn’t he rememb-

“You ok? You know you have nothing to be nervous about today, right? Ravenclaw will definitely win.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just..do you remember last night at all?”

Cedric cocks his head to the side. “Uh.. a bit. I remember coming into the Ravenclaw common room, we played a drinking game..then it gets fuzzy. But I remember you walking me to my common room; thanks for that.”

Oh? He..doesn’t remember.

“Ah ok..that was most of the night so you didn’t miss too much. Go eat and drink water; you’ll feel better.”

The warmth in her ears and cheeks felt a bit too overwhelming once in the Ravenclaw locker room. Normally, a quidditch game wouldn’t have struck up such nervousness in (Y/N), or just the Ravenclaw team in general. They knew how to calm down in time for the game and bring all their assets to the table. Except now, there was only one match that determined everything.

Roger was almost roaring. “Alright guys! I know we’re all a little on edge right now, but let’s get to the point. We know Slytherin plays a dirty game but we’re staying fair. Don’t let rage take you over, think and focus, we got this. Let’s go out there and win this!”

He continued to give separate instructions to the beaters, the keeper, and the seeker. He turned to (Y/N) and Kimball, firing up to go.

“Before you say anything, Davies. We know what to do, we’ll try the plan out right now during the practice, ok? Now calm down.”

Kimball was surprisingly stable today and it was no doubt she was going to have a good match. Roger visibly deflated but kept a smug look in his face.

Hooch told them Ravenclaw was going first for practice so the team kicked off into the air.

(Y/N)’s hair was tied back and the breeze tickled her face. She missed this feeling; so freeing and beautiful.

Before long, Kimball nodded towards (Y/N) and took off. She stayed higher up and Roger acted as an opponent chaser. They released the Snitch, the Bludgers, and the Quaffle, and started a mock game. Roger zoomed past (Y/N) and she went behind him. Kimball followed (Y/N) but from above. (Y/N) stole the Quaffle and headed to the three goals, where their Keeper stayed, and scored.

(Y/N) kept the Quaffle and tried to score again, but Roger stole the ball and that’s when Kimball came into the playing area. She quickly picked the ball from Roger and scored while (Y/N) flew up. This was their plan; have one chaser on the pitch and the other two above, following the movements. As soon as the ball was stolen or the chaser runs out of stamina, another substitutes in. If all three chasers from the other team started tagging the one chaser, the other two will come down to help. Roger had checked with Hooch to see if the tactic broke any rules and she allowed the Ravenclaw team to use it.

The Slytherin team practiced regularly and it was a relief to not see any crazy strategies.

We can win this.

The houses filed in, chattering their heads off as the teams got ready to enter the field. The Ravenclaw team was introduced and they flew up, similar to the Slytherin team except for Lee’s backhanded comments.

“The game is the last one of the season! But don’t worry, I’m sure the Triwizard Tournament will be entertaining! Let’s get on now; today’s match is Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. I hope you all cheer for the right team!”

He got a slight warning from Mcgonagall and that was it. Marcus Flint and the other players were all mounted on their fancy brooms; (Y/N) was a tad jealous, but her Comet 290 did the job. Hooch gave warnings and blew the whistle, and before (Y/N) knew it, the game began.

The strategy had worked so far except for a short period where Draco Malfoy was chasing the Snitch and almost crashed into (Y/N) and Kimball, who were waiting above and had to move away really quickly.

Roger was running out of breath and (Y/N) noticed, so she flew down after telling Kimball and took his spot. A red-haired Slytherin chaser had the Quaffle, so (Y/N) speeded towards them. One of the beaters hit a Bludger towards the chaser and (Y/N) swooped in to take the Quaffle when they were distracted.

“Nice hit, Jason!” She yelled as she went past him, dodging Marcus Flint.

“and…(Y/L/N) scores! The score is now 50-35 with Ravenclaw in the lead.”

Cheers grew even louder and (Y/N) swore she locked eyes with Cedric as she flew past the Hufflepuff tower.

Ravenclaw’s seeker, Cho Chang was a little quiet and the year below (Y/N), but she was amazing on the field. There was a point in time last year where Cedric took an interest to her, but it faded..(Y/N) hopes.

The game was similar to the last, taking a long time and the players started to lose energy. As the year had just started, it was fall and the sun set earlier. The breeze up above was chilly and the chasers of Ravenclaw went back to the regular strategy, even though the one they were using didn’t require a lot of stamina, they were getting tired of having to fly up and down. The score was 140-145 with Slytherin in the lead.

It was a little early for the sun to have set completely but the horizon line was blending. (Y/N) remembered a time where Cedric told her a word for this scenery...abendrot. The violent tango of the blue and orange hues made for a majestic view.

She was temporarily distracted since Roger had the Quaffle when she heard Lee’s voice booming, “Just as Davies scores..Chang is closing in on the snitch..SHE’S CAUGHT IT! RAVENCLAW WINS!”

The team quickly flew down and cheered for Cho, but it felt like a mutual celebration since everyone did so well. Kimball hugged (Y/N) tight and whispered about how her legs are going to be so sore.

They giggled amongst themselves until George’s voice ripped through the crowd and screamed (Y/N)’s name. The other houses were rushing up too, congratulating their friends and other players. (Y/N) was lifted and hugged by the twins and she spotted Cedric running up.

“Hell, if you think our game was good, this was amazing!” Fred laughed and set her down.

“I feel like most people weren’t watching towards the end since it was so long.”

Cedric finally caught up and spoke, “Nonsense, (Y/N). You did so well today, especially when you swooped in near the goal when Warrington had the Quaffle; you just stole it and dropped it in. He didn’t even realize.” A smile graced his face.

He noticed details..

“(Y/N)? You okay?”

“..Thanks! Yeah..um, sorry that was a really long game so I’m just tired.”

The twins and Cedric went back to their common room as Ravenclaw celebrated in a more calm way than Hufflepuff did.

A few students sat around the fireplace, but most of the players went to bed early.

“Did you see Malfoy’s face? He looked like he was about to kill someone with that grimace.” Inglebee chattered.

Kimball and (Y/N) went back to the dorms after signaling to their friends that they’re going because they couldn’t keep their eyes open.

(Y/N) thought back to how the sky looked when the sun kissed the mountains in the distance and fell asleep thinking about the fond memory of today and of when she learned from a certain someone about what that sunset is called. Abendrot.

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aidanchaser · 3 years

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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Sixteen Harry Alone

The lake was freezing — well, that was an exaggeration because the lake was not frozen over yet — but Harry was colder than he’d ever been in his life. Azkaban had to be warmer than this.

He didn’t have a choice other than to bathe at night, and he worried about what he would do when the lake did freeze over. Staying clean was crucial to his survival. As helpful as the Invisibility Cloak was at hiding him, it did not obscure his scent.

Two weeks ago, Harry had nearly been caught by Snatchers who had been certain that someone was hiding nearby. He’d managed to Confund them, but it had been a close call. He had been careful to wash daily since then, no matter how cold it got.

Harry pulled himself back onto land and used his wand to dry off and remove any mud before dressing again. He couldn’t help but wish he had Hermione’s exceptional Flame Charms for warmth, even though wishing for that hurt.

In these last few weeks, Harry had grown unfortunately familiar with loneliness in a way he had never truly understood before. Even the times he had once felt alone, like during the Triwizard tournament, or in detention with Umbridge, or when he had learned about the prophecy, paled in comparison to this.

He had no parents to turn to, no friends to lean on, not even a professor to at least listen to him. He was well and truly alone.

He supposed he could talk to Ginny, but he had been afraid to reach out to her. He was still unsure how to explain to her that he had left Ron and Hermione. At least, he didn’t know how to explain it in a way that she would understand.

Harry pulled the Cloak over him, for both protection and the small bit of warmth it provided, and ducked into the shelter of a willow tree that hung over the edge of the small lake.

Soon it would be dawn, and the streets of London would come to life. He had learned to be ready for his day before the sun rose.

By the light of his wand, Harry dug into his tightly packed rucksack and pulled out parchment, ink, and the thickest book in his small library: A Compendium of Codes of Conduct for the Career Auror.

It was also the least interesting book in Harry’s collection, so he didn’t feel terrible about using it as a surface to scribble out a quick letter:

Cedric —

This is the last time I’ll try to reach you. Just tell me everything’s okay. Meet me at the small cottage on the lake tonight.

— Harry

Harry didn’t know if Cedric would find a way to reply, but he was growing desperate and running out of options.

These last few weeks Harry had been on the hunt for two things: information about where the cup might be hidden, and a source of cockatrice blood or basilisk venom to destroy the diadem. Cedric was still key in his plan to find the cup, though Harry was beginning to lose hope that he would ever get a reply. As for destroying the diadem, he would get his mother’s help with that.

Harry muttered his half of the incantation to Obscure his note to Cedric and folded it into the shape of a Ministry memo. He missed Hedwig, but it wouldn’t do for her to deliver this note to Cedric in front of the entire Ministry on his way to work. She was probably much safer and happier with Ginny at Hogwarts.

The stab of loneliness that came with missing both Hedwig and Ginny hurt worse than remembering Hermione’s adept flame charms, but he was growing used to brushing the pain off. He shoved the thick tome back into his bag and double-checked that he had left no evidence of his presence in his hiding spot.

He never cooked food, lest the smell attract attention. He never even bothered to set up shelter or even a bedroll. It was one thing to use spells to hide a campsite in the country; it was another to hide a tent in a city, especially on the doorstep of the Ministry of Magic. The Invisibility Cloak covered him while he slept, and his own Non-Flammable Flames provided just enough warmth to keep him alive, and that had to be enough. Besides, he had tucked the diadem into his bedroll back at the campsite with Hermione and Ron, and Harry had no interest in pulling it out until he was ready to destroy it.

The only clue that someone had been here was the depression in the earth where he had slept. He did his best to kick around the mud and vegetation to obscure it. It at least looked less like the impression of a person when he was done.

The Cloak served as perfect protection as long as Harry avoided large crowds. That was harder to do during the usual commuting hours of the morning, but if he could get to a hidden spot or vantage point before the hustle and bustle began, he could pass the morning undetected.

He left the park he had taken to sleeping in, jumped out of the way of an early morning cyclist, and crossed the street to the white stone buildings. He had gotten quite good at keeping the Cloak around him as he climbed railings, buildings, and trees, but it wasn’t a perfect practice. He checked to make sure that no one was paying much attention and hoisted himself into his chosen lookout then double-checked that the Cloak completely covered him.

Today, Harry had settled on a window ledge that gave him a decent view of the Ministry entrance. It was not the most comfortable of his hiding places, but it was out of the way of the crowds and it would provide him a good opportunity to see members of the Order as they came and went.

Harry had been watching the Ministry ever since he’d left Ron and Hermione. It hadn’t been all of his plan, exactly, when he’d left. He certainly hadn’t included in his goodbye-note that he would be spending his time in London, but they had to have guessed it was where he would be. The only reason they hadn’t come to the Ministry together was because it was too great of a risk. Harry understood that, and had no desire to put Hermione, Ron, or the Weasley family at risk, but if the risk was all on him? That wasn’t so bad.

Not that his risk had gotten him very far. In his month of observation, he had seen the Prewetts, the Longbottoms, Arthur Weasley, and Cedric Diggory, all coming into work. He had hoped that he could find a way to contact someone the Order for information about his parents or about Bellatrix Lestrange and Pyrites, but so far, he hadn’t had any success.

Harry had, a few times, slipped notes into Cedric’s pockets. He had started as subtly as he could, with Switching Spells to get them into Cedric’s bag, but when he received no reply, it occurred to Harry that blank parchment in a bag wasn’t terribly unusual. So Harry had tried slipping notes into Cedric’s pockets. He had used his wand at first, but when he still received no reply, he was more direct. He had used the very limited supply of Polyjuice Potion that he had on hand to transform his appearance. Then he had bumped into Cedric and made sure that he dropped the notes directly into Cedric’s pockets.

Still, Harry had received no reply. Today, Harry was going to make sure that Cedric not only received the note, but he was going to watch Cedric open it. Maybe it was an unnecessary risk, and he should probably have cut his losses and tried for the Longbottoms after leaving notes in Cedric’s pockets had failed, but he was desperate.

He wasn’t just desperate for information on Bellatrix Lestrange and Pyrites. Even if the notes to other members of the Order might not be as protected as his code with Cedric was, it was an option he ought to have explored sooner. Harry wanted information to help him find the cup, but more than that, he wanted to prove to himself that Dumbledore had been wrong about Cedric. He needed to know that Cedric had not abandoned him.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the small stone ledge. One of the things he had hoped to find by striking out on his own was peace of mind. Being alone meant that would not be putting his friends at risk, and that he would not have to argue in circles with Ron and Hermione. He had discovered, however, that it was just as easy to argue in circles with himself, and that was a far more futile exercise.

Harry had reviewed the facts so frequently that he could recite them in his sleep: Dumbledore had not approved of Harry writing letters to Cedric, Dumbledore had warned Harry about trusting someone so close to the Ministry, and Dumbledore had left Cedric out of the will. Harry wanted to believe those decisions were wrong, but, as far as Harry could tell, Cedric had abandoned the Horcrux hunt.

The counter arguments, though smaller in number, were more powerful to Harry. He always reminded himself of the evening he and Cedric had spent in the grove of Styncon Garden, picking mulberries. Cedric had made him promise that he would not face Voldemort alone, and Harry could not believe that Cedric had not meant it.

The more Harry recited this argument with himself, the more Harry found that he actually missed Hermione telling him to forget about Cedric and to focus on the Horcruxes. She would have, at the very least, broken up the monotony of his own thoughts.

As the morning traffic rush began to fill the streets of London, Harry sat up straighter. He watched the people going up and down the street and paid close attention to those headed towards the Ministry’s hidden entrance. It wasn’t long before he saw Cedric and, unfortunately, Cedric wasn’t alone.

Cedric and Christian did not always arrive at the Ministry together nor always leave together, which Harry was grateful for. He had not yet taken the risk of trying to plant a note on Cedric while Cedric was with Christian, and Harry second-guessed his plan. He could always try again in the evening, and hope to catch Cedric alone.

His hand tightened around the parchment. No, he knew that, despite the risk, he couldn’t wait. It had been weeks of trying to make progress in the Horcrux hunt, and he had nothing to show for it. Desperation was overwhelmingly powerful motivation.

“Locomotor Note,” Harry whispered, and the memo slipped out from under his Cloak. It fluttered a few feet down and caught Cedric in the shoulder just as he and Christian passed beneath Harry’s ledge.

Cedric turned to see what had tapped against him and watched the parchment fall to the pavement.

“What is it?” Christian stopped as Cedric picked up the note and unfolded it.

He looked over the blank parchment, checked the back, then looked around for where it might have come from. He made a point of checking behind the columns at the building’s entrance, but there was no way for him to notice Harry, sitting in plain sight beneath the Cloak.

Cedric frowned and looked down at the parchment again. “It’s another one of those blank sheets.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “I told you that you should let Anne take a look at them. She’s got nothing else to do all day.”

“Oh, she’d love to know you said that.” Cedric laughed. “Besides, I’m sure I can figure out what they are.”

“You said that last week. And the week before.”

“Obviously whoever’s sending them thinks I can figure it out, or it wouldn’t have been sent to me.” Cedric looked over the parchment one more time before folding it up and tucking it into his cloak. “Would you believe me if I said that I think it has something to do with Quidditch?”

Christian shook his head, and they moved too far off for Harry to hear the rest of their conversation.

Harry resisted the urge to bang his head against the window, which would certainly startle whoever was in the office behind his hiding spot.

At least now he knew that Cedric had been getting the notes, even if he hadn’t read them. But Harry didn’t understand why. If he had stumbled across a very obvious blank note, his first though would be to test the incantation that he and Cedric used to conceal their ink. Perhaps Cedric had tried their couplet on the other notes, but the spell had worn off somehow?

But that was a rubbish thought. Harry had checked the ink just yesterday. He’d recited both halves of the incantation, and the ink in the bottle had disappeared and reappeared, just as it was supposed to.

It seemed, short of revealing himself to Cedric directly, Harry would have to find another way to get the information he needed from the Ministry. That could be tomorrow’s task. Today, he was determined to destroy the diadem.

But until the morning rush died down, it was impossible to leave his ledge, so he closed his eyes and waited.

Harry didn’t sleep properly anymore; every part of him was constantly on alert — for Snatchers, Death Eaters, or even Muggle police. The Cloak could not protect him if he moved and it slipped off of him. He missed the safety of the tent with Ron and Hermione, their protective charms that had served them well out in the countryside, and the safety of numbers, of knowing someone you trusted could watch your back while you slept.

And, perched here on this ledge, it was hard to doze off much at all with Big Ben chiming every quarter of an hour.

So he didn’t sleep, but he rested as best as he could until the commuter crowds had thinned out enough that he could safely hop down. He had a small window before the tourist crowds really picked up to move to a new spot, or he really would be stuck on that ledge all day. It had happened once before, and he had had to spend an entire day sitting on the podium of a statue of some important Muggle until well after the evening commute had died down, when he’d finally been able to climb down without bumping against any Muggles. At least if the Cloak slipped while he moved, the Muggles never gave his hiding spots more than a puzzled second glance before returning to their business.

Despite the Invisibility Cloak draped around his shoulders, Harry still pressed himself up against the wall as two wizards dressed in deep burgundy hurried up the street towards the Ministry. He’d learned to recognise the weak Muggle disguises of those in the Muggle-born Registration Commission as easily as the Muggle police uniforms. It helped that they always wore burgundy in the same shade as their cloaks, as if it were a source of pride that they refused to shed. He had seen more than one witch or wizard dragged into the Ministry even as they had insisted that they had a magical ancestor in their family tree. Harry had tripped up the M.R.C. wizards when he could, to give those witches and wizards time to run, but he had been afraid to do much more and risk his own capture.

Once the red-clad wizards had disappeared into the Ministry entrance, Harry hurried up the street and towards the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t a long walk, though Harry often took circuitous routes, turning a half-mile trip into one or two miles, just in case. It was the sort of paranoia he thought Mad-Eye would be proud of.

The Leaky Cauldron, though, was not Harry’s real destination. He only used it to get into Diagon Alley, and, when he could, get some food.

More often than not, he could swipe a scone or a piece of toast from a table as he passed. He felt guilty about stealing, but there were few places to get free food in London, and his supply of Galleons was already growing thin.

Besides food, however, the Leaky Cauldron had one other important feature: newspaper stands. Harry not only pocketed unwatched food, but he had also gotten into the habit of snatching the paper each day as well. He felt less bad about stealing that. It wasn’t as if the Prophet deserved any of his gold.

After slipping through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley, Harry’s pockets were filled with two bread rolls, a scone, and a rare prize: a hot buttery potato. It leaked into his jeans uncomfortably, but it was nothing a spell couldn’t clean up.

Once Harry had crossed into Diagon Alley, he usually took one of two paths: either find a hidden corner in Knockturn Alley or see if there was a reserved table at Rosa Lee’s. Reserved tables were nice, because they often sat empty for twenty minutes to an hour, giving him plenty of time to eat and browse the paper.

After facing both the risk of reaching out to Cedric and the pain of how badly it had failed, however, Harry did not feel brave enough to slip into a tea shop and seat himself at an empty table. He headed, instead, for Knockturn Alley. It was where he needed to end up, anyway.

Knockturn Alley was full of hidden nooks and crannies, perfect places for wizards who did not want to be found. It was also ideal for Snatchers, but Harry had found that as long as he stayed clean and didn’t snore, Snatchers weren’t bright enough to look for much else. In their defence, they probably didn’t come across many runaway Muggle-borns with Invisibility Cloaks.

Harry found an empty space between The Spiny Serpent and Moribund’s and settled in with the Prophet and his breakfast. He would still have to keep alert and make sure that no one else also looked in and thought this empty spot would make a nice hideaway, but for now he was as safe as he could be.

He had grown unfortunately familiar with seeing his own face on the cover of the Daily Prophet. If he was lucky, some other headline might take priority, like last week, when they had announced the cancellation of the Quidditch World Cup. Though upon reading the article, Harry had learned that the real story was only that some league administrations were discussing the possibility of canceling the World Cup, in light of the sudden rise of tragedies occurring throughout the magical community of Europe.

Today, though, his face was front and center. The article did nothing but speculate about what Harry Potter might be up to next, and offered some rumours that he had been spotted in Cardiff. Harry always read the articles closely, in hopes that sightings of him might actually be sightings of his father. But he never knew how much to believe of the Prophet, nor how much to hope that his father had escaped the Death Eaters.

He had not had any more dreams of Voldemort torturing his father, which Harry trusted was a good sign. Instead, his dreams were filled with the thief who had stolen something from Gregorovitch. Harry was terrified to think too heavily on these dreams, lest his knowledge of the thief’s true identity bleed into Voldemort’s mind, but he was no closer to knowing what Voldemort truly wanted than he was to finding Hufflepuff’s cup.

At least, even if he didn’t have the cup, he had a plan to destroy the diadem. Harry shoved the Daily Prophet into his bag and exchanged it for the hand-written book his parents had gifted him for his sixteenth birthday, which happened to be his favourite book from his small library.

He opened to the section on Potions and flipped through his mother’s recipes and notes until he reached the recipe he had pored over the most since receiving this gift: the Wolfsbane Potion.

It was the one recipe he was most interested in, not only because it was exceptionally detailed, but it was the one potion he had wanted to brew since childhood. He still hadn’t done it himself yet, only helped his mother a few times last year, but he’d studied it frequently. And, even while he was on the run, he had found himself returning to it, especially in the days leading up to the full moon. It helped him feel connected to his family.

He was familiar with what went into the Wolfsbane Potion — everything from aconite to powdered silver — and had never paid much attention to the ingredients part. Mostly, Harry worked to memorise every detail of the instructions. But the other night, he had noticed an odd annotation to the ingredients list. Lily had written, beside each ingredient, special preparation instructions. Next to powdered silver, she’d written the incantation for efficiently turning sickles into powder. She’d marked that Jobberknoll feathers needed to be shed at the full moon. She’d also noted that it was best to pick Wolfsbane at the new moon, and she had instructions for properly preserving the flowers and roots. Next to those instructions, however, was a note that Harry hadn’t understood. She’d written “Kn-14A.”

It wasn’t a measurement that Harry was aware of. It wasn’t an ingredient that went in with the Wolfsbane, or some variant strain of it, as far as he knew from watching Lily and James make the potion at each full moon. And though his mother had gone through the recipe with him when they had brewed it last summer, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Kn-14A.

Yesterday, however, when he had ducked into the alley near Borgin and Burkes to avoid a Snatcher, he had noticed the shop number: 13B.

Kn-14A wasn’t a set of instructions related to brewing the Wolfsbane Potion; it was where to find ingredients.

Harry finished the potato, but decided to save the bread and scone. Food was no easier to come by in the city than it had been in the countryside, so he had maintained the rationing strategies he had gotten used to while traveling with Ron and Hermione.

He squeezed the bread into his very full pack and, not for the first time, wished that he had asked Hermione to show him how to use the Undetectable Extension. He reached into the side-pocket for the flask of Polyjuice Potion and shook it. He had maybe one use left. Was this worth it?

If Harry was going to get more information on Bellatrix Lestrange or Pyrites, he might need to get into the Ministry. The Invisibility Cloak wouldn’t protect him from Secrecy Sensors. His best bet would be Polyjuice Potion.

He reached back into his bag and pulled out the Daily Prophet.

How much did he still look like himself, really? His scar was hidden behind his hair, which had grown out considerably, and his face was partially obscured by the beard that had slowly grown in over this last month. Shaving had not been on Harry’s priority list. He could Transfigure his hair colour, but even then, the glasses would be a dead give away.

He took off his specs and squinted into Diagon Alley. Without them, He wouldn’t be able to read any bottle labels. He looked down at the blurry frames in his hands and had an idea. It was either the stupidest thing he had ever thought of or the most genius. He supposed he wouldn’t know until it was done.

He tapped his wand against his glasses and muttered the incantation for a Disillusionment Charm. He focused on the frames and not the glass, since he still needed to be able to see through the glass. The thick, dark frames dissolved away, though he could still feel them in his hand. He put the newly obscured frames back on and used his reflection in the two-way mirror to help him turn his hair dark red. Finally, he held the Prophet up beside the mirror. It wasn’t as good as a Polyjuice Potion, but it was better than nothing.

Reluctantly, and with his heart thudding against his chest, he removed the Invisibility Cloak.

He half-expected Voldemort to appear out of thin air and attack him, or a Snatcher or Ministry employee to point him out. But no one paid him any mind. No one seemed interested in the lanky, disheveled young man tucked away in a corner of Knockturn Alley. He supposed there were different kinds of ways to be invisible.

He took in a deep breath, and headed up the street. He kept his hand on his wand and his head down. Fortunately, Knockturn Alley wasn’t a place known for its friendly patrons, and no one gave him a second glance. Still, he felt overwhelming relief when he arrived, unaccosted, at Shyverwretch’s Venoms and Poisons.

There were no windows looking into Shyverwretch’s. Whether that was to protect the patrons or the products, Harry couldn’t say. But he had come this far, so he might as well see this plan through. He placed a hand on the door and pushed.

The shop bell made him jump, and he closed the door hastily behind him.

The room was dimly lit, which Harry was grateful for. It wasn’t much bigger than a cupboard, though, and if Harry wasn’t certain he had just entered from Knockturn Alley, he might have worried that he’d stumbled into someone’s private pantry. Shelves lined the wall from floor to ceiling, stocked with small bottles of dark glass. None of the bottles were labeled, but each of the shelves were marked with a series of numbers and letters. Harry supposed that people who bought poisons did not want to advertise their purchases, but that meant he would have to ask the shopkeeper for help.

Not two feet from the door was a small shop counter with a glass case that contained some of the more opulent bottles. Behind the case stood an elderly wizard holding a mortar and pestle. He had no hair, but did have a long, wispy beard that brushed against the glass. His sharp eyes were focused on Harry.

Harry swallowed. “Er — morning.”

The elderly man said nothing.

Harry cleared his throat and lowered the pitch of his voice, hoping he would sound older. “A friend told me you sell poisons.”

He let out a wheezy laugh and set the mortar and pestle aside. “I imagine my sign did as well.”

Harry’s ears burned and his heart raced. “Yeah, it helped. She said you have — er — aconite?” Harry wasn’t sure which name was most appropriate or least suspicious.

“What date of harvest do you need?”

“Oh — no, actually I’m looking for something a bit harder to come by.”

“You’re interested in the seeds? I’ve sold them before, but it’s a special order —”

“No — er — you don’t happen to have any cockatrice blood do you?”

The elderly man stared at Harry, and when Harry did not elaborate, he wheezed again and doubled over in laughter. The laughter rapidly turned into a horrible cough and Harry was afraid he had accidentally killed the shopkeeper.

It took the man some time and several loud, wheezing breaths to regain his composure.

“Pardon me, boy,” he finally said, “but do you have any real business to conduct?”

Harry hesitated. “Do you know where I could find some?”

“Of course. You can travel to Egypt, find a cockatrice, and pray you kill it before it kills you.”

Harry’s hand went to his hair out of habit before he realised he was about to accidentally reveal his scar. He scratched his chin instead. “What about basilisk venom?”

“You’ve certainly got a taste for rare poisons. Bit young to be filling out such an expensive collection.”

“Look, do you have any or —”

Harry was interrupted by a soft jingle as the shop door opened. He held his breath, afraid to turn around and see who had entered. The shop was small for a duel, with no cover besides the shopkeeper’s counter. He just had to hope he could leave before he was recognised. He gripped his wand tightly.

“Hey,” a low voice seemed to growl, “Shyverwretch, do you have what we discussed?”

Harry’s stomach dropped and he fought off the panic that rose in his chest. He knew that voice far better than he would have liked.

Shyverwretch didn’t look anymore fond of the man than Harry felt. His beady eyes had gone wide and he swallowed slowly before speaking. “Greyback, I told you, I don’t take the names of my customers —”

“But I’m not asking about customers.” The bell jingled again as Greyback closed the door. He did not try to move past Harry to Shyverwrtech, and Harry could not help but think Greyback was intentionally blocking the only exit.

“I’m asking about cowards.”

“I can’t help you — I don’t have what you’re asking for.”

“Oh, but I know you do. I also know you have a granddaughter in South Harrow. Your great-granddaughter just turned three, didn’t she?”

Shyverwretch paled. His whole body trembled and his gaze slid from Greyback to Harry. Slowly, he lifted a shaking hand and pointed it at Harry.

Harry turned, but he wasn’t fast enough. Greyback grabbed his wrist before he could draw his wand. The werewolf’s claw-like fingers dug into Harry’s skin.

“No need for wands between us. It’s lucky I found you when I did. So, you’re here for wolfsbane?”

Harry kept his eyes down, both to hide how much pain he was in and to hide his face. No one had said his name yet. If he could just get to the door, if he could get out of this small shop…

He tried to jerk his arm away from Greyback. Blood trickled down his wrist and into his clenched fist.

“Why are you trying to run? I’m here as a friend, to show you a way other than wolfsbane.” Greyback leaned in close and Harry’s heart raced. “Spend the next three days with me. That’s all we’ll need. Three days, and if you don’t enjoy hunting with a pack, I’ll let you —” Greyback paused. He took in a deep breath. “I know your scent.”

Harry tore his arm away, not caring that he lost his grip on his wand as Greyback’s claws shredded the tendons in his arm. He could heal it later, or he would duel left-handed if he needed to, but he had to get out of here first if he was going to live.

As his uninjured hand yanked on the shop door, Greyback snarled, “Potter!”

Harry ran. He ran faster than he had ever run in his life. Faster than when he had chased Bellatrix Lestrange through the Department of Mysteries, faster than when he had run after Snape. He didn’t dare stop to fish his wand out of his pocket with his working hand. He ran out of Knockturn Alley and through the Leaky Cauldron back to Charing Cross.

Automobiles screeched and honked as he ran into the Muggle road, but Harry paid them no attention. He didn’t know if it was in his head or if he could actually hear Greyback’s snarls behind him. He wasn’t going to turn to check.

He made it through the busy junction without getting hit by any drivers, and he didn’t hear anyone run over Greyback, either. He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest as he ducked around Muggle shoppers and scanned the Muggle shops he passed in search of a place to hide or at least get enough cover to draw his wand.

He wondered if Greyback cared enough about the Statute of Secrecy to not rip his throat out right in front of all these Muggles. Or, more likely, Greyback would want to take him back to Voldemort. He supposed the Ministry would have a grand time Obliviating all the witnesses, and Greyback wouldn’t spare them a thought.

He still did not dare slow his stride, but he did glance across the road to the tinted shop windows, where he could see his warped reflection intermittently between motorists. He certainly looked absurd, but that wasn’t what he was concerned with. He could see Greyback’s reflection, too, still on his heels.

The man was larger than Harry recalled from that night on the Astronomy Tower. He seemed to be made of sheer power, and Harry was certain that Greyback was gaining on him. Harry forced himself to increase his speed, and his legs burned in protest, but obeyed as much as they could.

He couldn’t outrun Greyback. He needed to get somewhere safe.

On the corner up ahead, Harry saw the red and blue logo of the London Underground. He had only ridden it a few times, but if anything was faster than Greyback, it would be the Tube.

He pushed his way past the Muggles and practically jumped down the stairs. A few people called out in protest, but their weak shouts turned into proper cries of outrage as Greyback threw them aside in pursuit of Harry.

Harry could see the ticketing gates up ahead and knew Greyback wasn’t going to wait around for him to fish any Muggle money he might have out of his pack. He leaped over the barrier, but when his trainers hit the smooth tile, he sprawled out onto the ground. A Muggle in a bright red shirt and blue tie ran towards him.

“Hey! You can’t jump the —”

Harry scrambled to his feet and kept running, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth from where his teeth had punctured his tongue. He was pretty sure he’d cut open his chin on the tile, too, but those problems were secondary to getting away from Greyback.

He heard more shouts, assumed Greyback, too, had jumped the barrier, but he kept his eyes ahead in search of a way out. The last thing he needed was to get in a carriage with Greyback and put more Muggles at risk. He passed the information center and half-ran half-slid down the ramp to the platform. He didn’t care which line he got on, as long as it was going fast and he could get in just before the doors closed.

The rumble and squeak of a train coming in echoed around him, and he fought the burning in his chest and the stitch in his side to try to catch it. He skidded out onto the platform and bolted for the first carriage he saw. A woman with a pram protested sharply as he pushed her aside to get through the doors just before they snapped shut behind him.

Greyback slammed into the doors at full speed, and the entire carriage rocked from his momentum. The passengers gasped, but the train lurched forward onto the next station without care as Greyback banged his fist into it again.

Harry fell into the nearest open seat and looked down at his clothes, soaked in blood. He started to reach for his wand, but there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

Harry looked up at a man in a suit, who was probably about his father’s age, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Harry’s first thought was to run, that this man could be a Hit Wizard or a Snatcher, but reason settled in and reminded him that no self-respecting blood purist would be caught dead on the Muggle Underground. Perhaps Harry should have been riding the trains more often during his time in London.

“M’alright,” he said, and wished he didn’t notice the way his speech slurred. He knew what he needed to do, he just needed there to be less Muggles paying attention to him.

“Here, keep this pressed there.” The helpful Muggle put something against Harry’s arm, and Harry didn’t look to see what it was, but he listened. “My name’s Nigel. I’m going to help you get to a hospital.”

“Thank you,” Harry put effort into pronouncing each word, “but I’ll be okay.”

“That’s a nasty scrape on your chin, too. Did that man who was chasing you hurt you?”

Harry didn’t bother to answer. He had no idea how to explain why Greyback had hurt him, let alone why the man had left claw-marks in his wrist.

He pulled his wounded arm to his chest and, as surreptitiously as possible, slipped his wand from his pocket. He used the makeshift compress the man had given him to hide his wand as he pressed it to his injury and muttered the incantation to seal the cuts closed. He could feel not only his veins, but the muscles and tendons knit themselves back together. He’d never had to perform a spell like this on himself, but he was familiar with the feeling. Sirius had closed up similar wounds from Greyback last summer.

When it was done, he flexed his hand and closed it into a fist. It was a bit stiff, but he would be able to duel just fine.

The train slowed to a stop and Harry stood, but Nigel pushed him back down.

“Not yet, son. We’ll get off at the next one.”

The Death Eaters may not use Muggle transport, but they weren’t stupid, not even Greyback. It wouldn’t be hard for them to patrol the stops on this line to try to find him. He needed to change trains before they filled up each station. He needed to get out of London.

“I promise, I’m fine —”

“It’s a short walk from there to St Thomas’. They’ll be able to help you.”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t know if he was weary from his intense sprint, the fading adrenaline, or the loss of blood, but just the effort of it made him dizzy.

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“One more stop,” the man promised. “If you’re worried that man will be waiting for you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Nigel had no idea what he was promising, but the carriage doors had already closed.

Harry pulled the compress off of his arm. “I’m fine, see? It looked bad, but it really wasn’t.”

Nigel stared at Harry’s arm in astonishment. “But there was so much blood —”

“Guess I hit my chin hard. Listen, I just need to get out of London, okay? So can you point me to a train that can do that?”

“You can get just about anywhere from Waterloo.” The man sighed. “I still think you should go to the hospital. You might be hurt more than you —”

“No, thank you.”

Nigel pursed his lips as the train slowed to a stop. Harry hurried out of the doors the moment they opened, and he didn’t like that the nice Muggle man followed him.

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to go to a hospital?”

Harry tightened his hand around his wand, but did his best to keep it hidden in his sleeve. He searched the platform for any sign of Death Eaters or the Ministry.

“I’m sure,” he said.

“Then let me help you out of London. Where would you like to go?”

Harry had no idea.

“Do you have family or friends you can connect with?”

Harry swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I don’t… have anyone. You don’t need to worry about me — I’ll be alright on my own.”

Nigel gave Harry a long look and seemed to resign himself to Harry’s stubbornness. “Well, how does Kent or Brighton sound?”

It was hard to think through the fuzz in his head, but an idea sparked. It wasn’t a perfect idea, and it was certainly risky, but it was an idea, and he was short on those at the moment.

“Could I get to Surrey from here?” he asked.

“You have friends at the University that way?”

“I have an aunt and uncle out there.” He didn’t know where Vernon and Petunia were, exactly, but he knew they weren’t at home, which meant that the house was probably empty. He couldn’t imagine the Death Eaters would think it important enough to keep a consistent watch on.

Nigel looked relieved to hear that Harry did indeed have family he could get to. He helped Harry find the right train and even paid for Harry’s ticket.

Harry protested — he had some Muggle money — but Nigel insisted.

“It’s not right to stand by when someone is in need,” Nigel said. “I’m just glad someone was able to help you today.”

Harry didn’t have too much experience with Muggles as a whole, but he was grateful that he could add Nigel to that experience.

They shook hands, and Nigel took the opportunity to once again examine Harry’s wrist. He marveled that there was no sign of a wound, but without a way to explain it, he let the matter drop and waved Harry off.

Harry thanked him again, and found a seat on his train as far away from any Muggles as he could get. It was easy enough to clean up without anyone looking at him, and with the help of the mirror was even able to fix the cut on his chin.

Once he had finished Healing everything and removing blood-stains, he sank back into his seat and considered how fruitless his day had been. He hadn’t been able to make contact with Cedric, he might as well have announced his presence to Voldemort directly, and he didn’t even get what he needed to destroy the diadem.

He wouldn’t be able to come back to London.

With a sigh, Harry dug into his pack for the bit of food he had left. Under normal circumstances, he would have waited a few more hours before eating again, to let his food last as long as possible, but between his sprint and Healing his wounds, his body needed to refuel. The scone had slid down the side of his pack and was nothing but crumbs beneath his books. The bread rolls were squished into his bedding.

Carefully, Harry extricated his bedroll from his pack. He unrolled it on the seat beside him and as he stuffed one of the flattened bread rolls in his face, he felt through the bedroll for the second roll, and for the diadem. He only found the bread.

In a panic, he dumped his bag out onto the seat beside him. His canteen tumbled out, along with a change of clothes, the crumbs of the scone, the Daily Prophet, the Snitch from Dumbledore, his books — the Auror code, his parents’ gift, and two Defense books — but there was no Horcrux.

Panic rose in his throat. He had no idea when, or where, or how, but somehow he had lost Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem.

#hp everyone lives au #hp everyone lives #hp #hp fic #dh

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slyttherins · 3 years

Text

Unexpected flame (part 3) | Fred Weasley x Sirius Black’s daughter

June 1995

After the grim end of the Triwizard tournament, the return from Hogwarts was gloom.

Two weeks had passed since the final task and many students were still mourning Cedric Diggory. His death had been traumatic for a lot of people - they had expected to see a winner come out of the maze, not a cadaver -, and the image of Cedric's lifeless body in the middle of the pitch will forever be inked in their memory.

Juliet didn't know Cedric a lot. He was three years older than her and they didn't cross paths a lot at Hogwarts. All she knew was that he was the embodiment of the qualities of a Hufflepuff and was their quidditch team' seeker. She was sad and disturbed about his death, as everyone was, but wasn't weeping in mourning.

As they neared London, a smile formed on her lips. In his last letter, Remus had informed her that she'd be spending a small part of summer with the Weasleys and she was thrilled.

According to Ginny's letters, summer at the Burrow sounded really fun. The younger of the Weasley clan would always tell Juliet about the many pranks the twins would pull, swimming in the pond during hot days, playing quidditch above the field and even de-gnoming the garden.

''I don't mind you coming over during summer vacation, Juliet, but don't make it a habit. I see you enough at school,'' Ron said as he dragged his trunk onto a trolley.

''I'm just so obsessed with you that I can't leave your side, Ronald,'' Juliet replied jokingly. She wrapped her arms around him and attempted to kiss his face, but Ron dodged her lips. His cheeks were bright red from the attack, not used to girls being so close to him - beside his mother and sister.

Ginny and the twins laughed.

''Worry not, I won't be staying for long.''

''Well, I don't mind you staying for the summer. We're gonna have so much fun!'' Ginny said excitedly.

''Mom's here,'' George pointed out, seeing her hurry through the mass of parents and students and trolleys full of luggages.

The Burrow's back yard was beautiful during summer. Molly's large garden was filled with flowers, overgrown weeds and...chickens running around. It was a lot livelier than the old flower box at 12 Grimmauld place that she and Remus never watered and had left to die.

''You can stay in Percy's room if you want, dear. You'll be more comfortable than on Ginny's floor. I've put an extra blanket for you. The nights are cold, even in summer,'' Molly informed, tearing Juliet's attention from the window.

She thanked Mrs. Weasley and frowned. ''Where's Percy? Won't he need his room?'' she asked, confused. She didn't personally care about Percy, but she didn't want to steal his room and cause more trouble between them.

Ron shook his head, walking past her and looking around the kitchen, in search of anything he could steal and eat before dinner. ''He's not here. He got himself a job at the Ministry of Magic as assistant to Bartemius Crouch.''

''So you won't have to worry about him attacking you during supper,'' Fred added with a grin.

Juliet bit back a smile, shaking her head. Of course he remembered that.

''Mr. Crouch can't even remember Percy's name, it's hilarious. He calls him Weatherby,'' George added, not even holding his laughter.

Fred mimicked his brother and Molly scolded them both, using the hand towel she had in her hands to swat at Fred's arm. ''Quit making fun of your brother, will you? He worked really hard to get this job.''

''What's for dinner, Mom?'' Ron asked as his stomach made a growling sound.

Beside him, Ginny rolled her eyes. How could he always be hungry?

Percy's room being on the same floor as Fred and George's, Fred decided to be a decent host and show her the way.

''Here's Percy's den,'' Fred said, opening the door. ''Careful not to stay too long in here, you might lose your humor.''

The room was neat and clean compared to Ginny and Ron's. There were no posters or family pictures on his walls, but Ministry law books, ink pots, parchemin papers and old Daily Prophet newspapers all over his desk.

Juliet walked in and set her trunk down at the end of the neatly made bed. ''Fear not,'' she reassured the redhead, having no intention of staying in Percy's room for longer than necessary. She'll come here to sleep and that's it. ''My humor is deep in my blood.''

With Sirius Black for father, it was impossible to not have a great sense of humor. Juliet didn't share his attraction for mischief - not to his extent -, but she liked to tease people and joke around.

''I'll make sure to make jokes everyday, just in case. If you stop laughing, I'll know it's because of Percy's bedsheets.''

Biting her cheek, Juliet fought a smile. ''Always have my back, uh Freddie?''

He grinned in confirmation. ''If you need anything, just knock on my door.''

The next day, the sun was shining high in the sky as Ginny pulled Juliet through the backyard, both dressed in their bathing suits. They went up to the small deck that led to the pond, excited to jump in and cool off.

The first day of summer vacation was usually dedicated to cleaning the yard, but Molly had made an exception and let the kids play in the water since they had a guest.

When the girls arrived, Ron and the twins were already in the pond, fighting with pool noodles.

''Get him, George!'' Fred cheered as George hit their younger brother with a green noodle, a slapping sound echoing.

''Go George!'' Juliet joined in, taking George's side too.

Her voice had distraught Ron and his short moment of inattention cost him to get hit square in the face by George - and losing grip of his noodle. ''Bloody hell, what are you wearing?'' Ron asked, catching sight of the girls and staring at Juliet with wide eyes.

''I won!'' George exclaimed, turning to his twin for a celebratory high-five.

Juliet sat on the edge of the deck, about to get in the water. ''It's a bathing suit, Ronald. You wear it to swim,'' she explained, making the others snicker.

''This is a bathing suit.'' He pointed to Ginny's bright red one piece. ''Not...whatever this is.''

Juliet rolled her eyes and got in the water while Ginny jumped, cannonball style and splashed everyone - including Ron who scowled.

''You seemed in need of a cold shower,'' she told him as she resurfaced. ''Let's play chicken fight.''

''In case you forgot, we're an uneven number. It won't work,'' Ron reminded.

''Well, one of us is gonna wait on the sideline and replace the first person who falls. And, that person is you. You can be referee.''

''Me! Why me?''

''Because you're the one who mention it and I don't trust you to keep me up on your shoulders.''

Ignoring the bickering between his two siblings, Fred had dove under to refresh himself, starting to feel a burning on his pale shoulders. He emerged of the water and shook his head, sprinkling water everywhere with his long red locks. Those boys really needed a haircut. It was getting out of hand.

Ron grumbled some more, reluctantly accepting his fate as Ginny went over to George, ready to play.

''Juliet, you go with Fred. I'll go with George.''

Upon hearing his name, Fred caught eyes with Juliet and swam up to her. ''Ready?''

Fred's body had changed a lot over the past year. Puberty was most likely one of the reasons, but also quidditch. As beaters, they couldn't be frail and lanky; they needed muscles.

Standing so close to him, Juliet was surprised by how broad and strong those shoulders were underneath his robes and sweaters. She couldn't help but dart her eyes to his naked chest and the galaxy of freckles on his wet skin.

Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts away. ''How do I get up there?'' she asked, having never played this game before.

Fred lowered himself down in the water and Juliet awkwardly climbed on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his freckled skin in panic as he stood up, feeling herself wobble.

''I'm not gonna drop you,'' he said in a reassuring voice, putting his hands on her knees for security. ''If I can hold Ron up, you've got nothing to be scared of.''

''Get ready to lose, losers!''

After playing in the pond all afternoon, the Weasleys had gathered in the backyard for a campfire. Mrs. Weasley had brought out the marshmallows to roast and Fred and George had decided to show off their firework skills.

It was a day Juliet wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

But, all good days come to an end and it was now time to go to bed.

After an hour of tossing and turning, the young witch came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to find sleep anytime soon. It wasn't because she wasn't tired - she was -, but sleeping in Percy's bed made her feel uneasy. His loud comments regarding Sirius had hurt her and she’d honestly rather sleep on Ginny's wood floor than here.

She had fallen asleep fast enough last night, but she always fell asleep fast after a train journey.

Sitting up, Juliet reached into her trunk and grabbed a book. Might as well read instead of sitting there in the dark and waiting for sleep to come.

A gentle knock on the door made her slightly jump, and then, someone poked their head in. Fred.

''Everything okay?'' He was in his pajamas and his hair was slightly mussed from sleep. ''I was on my way from the bathroom when I saw some light. Given the hour, I decided to check on you.''

Juliet put down her book, heart warm. It was very kind of him to check on her.

''I just... I can't seem to find sleep.''

''It's because of Percy's smelly sheets, isn't it?'' Juliet looked down at the bright patchwork blanket, doubt and disgust in her eyes, and Fred laughed. ''I'm kidding. Mom washed them.'' He stepped in and sat on the end of the bed. ''So, tell me. What's keeping you up tonight, Black?''

Juliet sighed. ''Lots of things,'' she half lied.

''Let's play a game. I tell you something I haven't told anyone and you tell me one until you fall asleep. I'll start. I'm gonna be graduating Hogwarts next year and I'm scared. Worried, mostly. As you know, George and I want to open a joke shop. It's always been our big dream. It used to be an almost impossible dream to reach because of our shortage of money, but with the money Harry gave us, it's allowing us to make test samples and slowly build a small variety of candies to sell. But what if we fail?''

Hearing Fred confess his worries about the future changed Juliet's perspective of him. Fred was always so bold, confident and positive, going around telling people that anything's possible if you've got enough nerve. He gave the impression that he was never afraid of anything, but he was just good at hiding it.

''I think everyone's a bit afraid of the future. It is scary.''

''I try to stay positive, but there's always this 'what if' that's in the back of my head. If we fail, what will I do with my life, work at Gringotts? At the Ministry of Magic? Become a teacher? Absolutely not.''

''You're great at quidditch. You and George are the best beaters Gryffindor ever had.''

Fred chuckled. ''I’m flattered, but I’m not good enough to play professionally. And I like to play with George. Quidditch is something we’ve always played together. I’d feel weird to play without him. It’s your turn.''

Finding something Juliet had never told anyone turned out to be more difficult that she'd imagined. In their Ravenclaw dorm, she and Luna had a lot of late night conversations over the years. They’d talk about everything and nothing, typical girl things and...stranger things, but Sirius was a subject they never dipped in.

''I almost didn't meet my father,’’ she started, which immediately caught Fred’s attention. ‘’When Harry and Hermione saved and helped him escape in third year, I almost didn't follow Harry into the yard. I was scared he wouldn't be the person Remus had told me about. That he wouldn't be as great as I had been told. I was scared to be disappointed. I also knew that it might be my only chance and I'd regret it all my life if I didn't go.

''When I got to the yard, he wasn't at all like I had imagined him to be. He was...scary looking, as anyone would be after spending so long in Azkaban. I almost turned around and ran, but he called my name, his voice so hoarse and broken, and a smile had curled on his face. The first in Merlin knows how long. At this moment, I realized that I held a power. A power to bring him a sliver of happiness after all those years of coldness, darkness, misery and despair.''

''I'm sure it was an emotional experience for him too. It must've been a shock to see you.''

''I write him letters almost every day, but I don't have an address to send them to so I keep them in a shoebox under my bed.'' Juliet laughed at herself. ''It's silly, I know-''

''It's not,'' Fred countered. ''I think it’s cute and understandable. You had gotten your father back when he was taken away from you - again. It's a way for you to talk to him, even if he can't read your letters or respond.'' He yawned and apologized. Unlike Juliet, he had been sleeping before knocking on her door.

''You can go back to bed if you’re tired.''

Fred shook his head. ‘’I’d rather stay and talk with you. It’s my turn now, is it?’’

They kept going for a few more minutes, talking in Percy’s room while the rest of the house was asleep.

If Molly were up, she’d undoubtedly scold them for being awake past midnight and Fred going into Juliet's room. Her rules were clear about guests from the opposite sex: no visiting after bedtime.

While they were talking, they had shifted on the bed and changed positions. Their knees were now touching and their feet were buried under the patchwork blanket.

''I didn't want you to go back to Angelina after we danced at the Yule Ball,'' Juliet said, surprising herself. She found herself panicking inside, realizing that, although true, it could ruin their friendship in a disastrous way.

A smug smile curled on Fred’s lips. ''I'm a brilliant dancer, am I?''

She chuckled, but didn't deny. Although Fred Weasley wasn't great at following through with the classic steps when ball dancing, he knew how to spice it up and make it really fun.

''I didn't tell you, but you looked gorgeous in that dress.''

Juliet blinked.

It wasn’t the first time Fred complimented her, but he had never been so bold. He’d usually say something subtle that he could easily say to his sister, but tonight, it sounded very flirty - and Juliet didn't hate it.

After that, it was a blur. She could recall Fred talking, but one of them fell asleep and the other followed.

Fred was gone when Juliet woke up.

At first, she thought last night had been a dream, but the blanket was moved as if somebody else had slept there. She grabbed the blanket and a faint smell of Fred lingered on the blanket. Juliet smiled.

''Morning!'' Ginny greeted, walking in and inviting herself on the bed. She was still in her pajamas so it must've been still early. ''Luna sent an owl this morning, inviting us to have tea at her house tomorrow,'' the redhead informed, holding the piece of parchment in her hand. ''I'll ask Mum if we can go, but it should be okay. She doesn't live too far.''

Juliet rubbed her eyes, still washed with sleep and nodded, looking forward to seeing Luna. One of the things she didn't like about summer was not sharing a room with Luna for two months. She missed her so much. They'd write letters, but it wasn't the same.

''Mom is making pancakes. She sent me to get you.''

''Oh, yum!''

The raven haired girl pushed the covers away, excited to eat Molly's delicious pancakes, but Ginny stopped her. ''Before we go down, there's something I wanted to talk about...I think my brother fancies you.''

Panic flashed in Juliet's mind. Was Fred that obvious? His flirting was pretty subtle and rarely when there was people around. How could've Ginny come to that conclusion?

Juliet laughed. ''What? He doesn't. Gin, you're insane.''

''He was so red at King's Cross when you hugged him! And, he kept staring you when we were at the pond yesterday. He's into you.''

Ron. Ginny was talking about Ron, not Fred.

''See it the way you want. Now, let's go eat pancakes!''

#fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #oc x fred weasley #Harry Potter #fred weasley x sirius black daughter #unexpected flame #sorry for the long wait #I changed my mind many times while writing this #and it's longer than planned #sorry but also not

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theunknowncryptid · 4 years

Text

Part Thirty - The Lovers and the Guilty

Masterlist

Yoongi x Y/n

After a horrible prank, Slytherin, Min Yoongi, is entered into the Triwizard Tournament. Y/n, feeling responsible, decides it’s her personal mission to make sure he survives the ordeal

Chapter Warning: Mature, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Some Angst :{

~ ~ ~

Yoongi ran his fingers up and down the back of Y/n’s calf, absentmindedly. He felt like the legs were taunting him. They were smooth, long and for the past five minutes all Yoongi could think about was how to get them wrapped around him. The girl attached to the legs was laying on her stomach against the bed comforter, flipping through a book titled Useful Spells, Charms and Jinxes. She either couldn’t feel Yoongi’s delicate touch, or she was choosing to ignore it.

Yoongi was also laying against the bed, but instead of facing towards the foot like Y/n, he was laying with his head toward the pillows. He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. Besides them, the room was void of people. The sun that shone through the windows suggested that everyone was taking advantage of the nice Saturday afternoon after a long winter.

Y/n flipped another page of her book and Yoongi continued his study of her legs.

They were like a beautiful road leading up and up. Yoongi moved his fingers so that they focused on the back of Y/n’s thigh. Yoongi silently thanked whatever god had influenced her to wear cotton shorts today.

“What happened to your book?” Y/n asked suddenly. Yoongi paused his ministrations and looked at the girl. She was looking back over her shoulder and smirking. The two of them had been studying spells that could help Yoongi in the third task. With no idea what was ahead of him, the best course of action was to find useful magic to learn. Yoongi’s book sat, abandoned, on the pillow next to his head. He flushed slightly under Y/n’s eye.

“I’m taking a short break,” Yoongi answered. Y/n raised her eyebrows. Her gaze flitted briefly to the hand tracing squiggles on her ankle, then back to Yoongi's eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

Y/n scoffed and closed her book. Pushing up on her arms, she rose to her knees and turned to Yoongi. He pulled himself into a sitting position against the headboard. Yoongi lifted both arms palms out towards the girl and with almost frightening familiarity, she intertwined their fingers and shuffled closer to him. Yoongi smiled as Y/n lifted slightly to straddle his lap.

In the month that they had been dating, Yoongi felt happier than he had in years. Maybe it was the new physical contact, or the way Y/n looked at him, or even the fact that he was now consistently sleeping in the Gryffindor tower instead of the Slytherin dungeons, but it was like an electrical charge was now running through his body at all times.

In the mornings, he woke up happy with a beautiful girl wrapped in his arms. Then, he either spent the day with Hoseok, his new friends he shared with Y/n, or studying for the third task. Then at night, he drifted off warm and happy, occasionally feeling small kisses pepper his skin when y/n felt soft.

In a way, he reminded himself of Frankenstein’s monster. Long dead, but now reanimated. Except, he didn’t feel like a monster. He felt loved.

Over a month ago, Yoongi had texted Y/n that he felt he was in danger of falling in love with her. And that was no longer true.

Somewhere along the way he had fallen horribly, unbelievably in love with her.

Yoongi could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved her. It was the day Jungkook had walked in on them in the Transfiguration classroom.

“What are yo- OH, God” Yoongi moaned. He was sat against a desk with Y/n standing in the space between his legs. Class had dismissed for the day and what was supposed to be Yoongi innocently walking Y/n back from Transfiguration had turned into a full-blown make out session. It had been two weeks since Yoongi confessed his feelings to the girl in front of him. They had made out before, quite often, actually- but this had never happened before.

Y/n had slid her hand from it’s hard grip on Yoongi’s hair to the inside of his pants. Y/n lifted her head from Yoongi’s neck, leaving red marks in her wake. She didn’t want to assume that he wanted this without making sure. She met Yoongi’s dark eyes, silently asking permission to continue. What met her was a look that she had never seen before. It was pure need and want. Y/n felt her stomach turn and her legs falter. One thing was communicated in the look; He wanted her.

Trying to hold back groans of frustration over the unmoving hand on his cock, Yoongi threaded one hand into Y/n’s messy hair and crushed her lips against his. Y/n squeaked slightly, but was quick to kiss him back. She pressed her body closer to Yoongi’s and allowed her hand to wrap gently around the thick rod. Yoongi moaned weakly against Y/n’s lips. She smiled into the kiss and strengthened her grip. Then, with one swift movement, Y/n stroked down.

Yoongi gasped sharply. He moved his mouth to kiss up Y/n’s collarbone. His reaction spurring her on, Y/n stroked up and down Yoongi’s cock again and again, pausing occasionally to run her thumb over the head. Yoongi moaned low in his throat. His volume was rising steadily with the continuous movements and Y/n hushed him. She moved her hand faster and Yoongi’s grip on her waist turned harder.

“Merlin, Y/n. Please, don’t stop.” Yoongi begged. The vibrations of his voice tickled her skin. Moaning in between breaths now, Yoongi had been reduced to panting roughly in the crook of Y/n’s neck. He couldn’t think and he didn’t care. Yoongi was in Heaven.. Valhalla.. Elysium, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. And he was about to cum in his pants in the Transfiguration classroom.

Y/n gave him exactly that. Yoongi moaned Y/n’s name and lost control. She pulled him through, milking him until Yoongi was reduced to a sticky, trembling mess in her hands.

Breathing heavily, Yoongi finally pulled away from Y/n’s neck and looked her in the eye. Like before, it was a look Y/n had never seen before, but this time it wasn’t desire. It was awe. Yoongi was looking at her as if she had just saved his life and cooked him breakfast simultaneously. Y/n smiled shyly.

The peace didn’t last long.

“Y/n?! Are you still he- OH MY GOD!” Jungkook screeched. He had burst into the classroom to be greeted with the scene of a sweaty Yoongi and Y/n wrapped in each other's arms. To top it off, Y/n’s hand was still down Yoongi’s pants.

“JUNGKOOK! GET OUT!” Y/n screamed at the boy, ripping her hand away from Yoongi. Sounds of choking and skidding sneakers followed the younger boy as he ran from the furious couple.

It was right after he had… you know. The loss of his parents, his grandmother, and even Jin had left Yoongi surrounded by stone walls. Impenetrable walls. He locked himself off from everyone to protect himself. Yoongi was proud of his walls.

And in one small, sexually frustrated act, Y/n had ripped them down.

Don’t get him wrong, classroom handjobs were great. In Yoongi’s opinion, they were fucking amazing. But, that wasn’t why Yoongi was suddenly in love. He loved her because at that moment he knew he trusted her completely.

Trust had been growing between them steadily for months, but just then it solidified. Stronger than ever. Yoongi knew that whatever may come, Y/n would be by his side.

He looked up into her eyes, shaking and breathless, and knew he was unconditionally in love.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around the girl sat in his lap. Y/n smiled down at him.

“You take too many breaks.” She giggled and wound her arms around Yoongi’s neck.

“What can I say?” He mumbled. Yoongi’s gaze focused on Y/n’s lips. “You’re distracting.”

Yoongi used one hand to pull Y/n down to meet his lips. He kissed her soft and sweet. Y/n’s hands pushed through his hair so that Yoongi was sure that it would stick up at weird angles later. He pushed his tongue forward to meet y/n’s and sighed blissfully when she responded. Yoongi slid his arms down her waist, studying the curves. He focused on the warmth that came from the sliver of exposed skin between Y/n’s shirt and her shorts. He felt his skin heating as Y/n pressed herself into him fully. Yoongi continued on his path, bringing one hand down to the curve of her ass. The other hand stayed at Y/n’s hip and Yoongi used his thumb to smooth over the exposed skin. Y/n lost herself in the moment and began kissing down Yoongi’s jaw to his neck. Yoongi groaned when Y/n grazed her teeth gently over his collarbone.

“Y/n?” Yoongi asked. Y/n hummed, continuing to leave marks on Yoongi’s skin. His hand had barely slid up Y/n’s shirt and he gripped her hip to try and remain focused. “Do you.. Want to continue?”

Y/n finally pulled away, straightening to look at Yoongi’s face. He was blushing furiously and refused to meet her eye. Y/n brushed one hand through Yoongi’s hair to pull away the hair in his eyes.

“I want to,” Y/n whispered. Yoongi looked up at her, apparently surprised. “I really want to… D-Do you want to?” She stuttered at the end, losing her confidence. Her pink cheeks matched Yoongi’s.

Yoongi nodded rapidly, obviously eager. Y/n laughed with a wide smile and leaned forward again to capture Yoongi’s kiss. He responded with enthusiasm and allowed his hand to wander further up Y/n’s shirt. Yoongi breathed heavily as he realized Y/n wasn’t wearing a bra. His fingers brushed over pebbled nipples causing Y/n to moan softly. She ground her hips against Yoongi’s in reaction and Yoongi could feel himself hardening.

“You don’t want to know how much I’ve thought about this.” Yoongi whispered. Heat flooded to Y/n’s lower belly. “At night, laying next to you in only this,” Yoongi pulled slightly on the small cotton shorts. “I’ve been going out of my mind.” He growled. Yoongi pulled at Y/n with searing intensity now, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“I’ve thought about you, too.” Y/n whispered. Yoongi’s hands pulled at her shirt and Y/n raised her arms to help him remove the material. Yoongi stared openly at the breasts in front of him. His mind reeling at the new information.

“You thought about me?” Yoongi asked in distracted astonishment. Y/n nodded shyly. She rocked slightly in Yoongi’s lap as Yoongi fondled her breasts. Yoongi looked up at Y/n with hooded eyes.

“Tell me.”

“What?” Y/n asked breathlessly.

“Tell me what you thought about me doing to you.” He demanded. Without waiting for an answer, Yoongi leaned forward and pulled one pink bud into his mouth.

“Yoongi,” Y/n moaned his name and threw her head back. She gripped his shoulders to keep herself from melting completely into the sensations. Her eyes squeezed shut and her voice shook as she spoke. “I th-thought about you.... T-touching me.” Y/n choked out.

Yoongi’s cock hardened painfully from its confinement in his jeans and he thought stupidly that he may go into cardiac arrest at any moment. He scraped his teeth along her nipple then soothed the bite with his tongue. His voice came muffled between Y/n’s breasts.

“Did you touch yourself while thinking of me?” Yoongi asked. Y/n’s chest rose and fell erratically.

“Yes.” She breathed. Yoongi pulled away from Y/n’s breasts and looked up. His lips were swollen and wet.

“Show me.” He said. Yoongi’s voice sounded like a plea.

Taking her time, Y/n leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to Yoongi’s lips. Mustering all her confidence, Y/n backed up on her knees and twisted in Yoongi’s lap so that her back was to his chest. Yoongi wrapped his arms around her naturally and pulled her hair away to kiss her cheek. Y/n placed her hand on top of Yoongi’s and guided him to the hem of her shorts. Taking the hint, Yoongi slid his hand past the cotton shorts and beneath lace panties.

“Oh!” Y/n moaned. Yoongi rubbed small circles on the bundle of nerves in Y/n’s damp folds. Y/n’s head fell back onto Yoongi’s shoulder. Encouraged by her reaction, Yoongi plunged two fingers in. “God, Yoongi,”

He thrust his fingers in deeper, eliciting moans from Y/n. Yoongi curled his digits against her walls, building pressure inside of Y/n. Moans spilled from her mouth, leaving her breathless. Yoongi breathed shakily against Y/n’s ear. The sight of the girl he loved squirming against him in pleasure aroused him to no end and left him speechless. Y/n spread her legs wider and Yoongi pushed in another finger. She was forced to bite her lip to keep from screaming out.

“Is this okay?” Yoongi asked. He continued to thrust his fingers into Y/n. She raised her hand to Yoongi and held his neck.

“It feels so good,” Y/n whined. “Yoongi, please,”

“Tell me what you want, baby” Yoongi begged. He wanted to bring her to the brink with pleasure, so that she screamed his name. Yoongi wanted to give Y/n everything.

“I want you,” Y/n moaned. She could feel Yoongi’s erection pressing her from behind. “Please, Yoongi.”

Yoongi groaned lowly in his throat. He would never stop replaying those words in his head. Giving one last pump, Yoongi pulled his fingers away from Y/n and wiped them on his jeans impatiently. Guiding her with his hands, Y/n sat up and moved away from Yoongi to lay back against the bed. Moving frantically now, Yoongi pulled off his shirt so that it landed on the floor next to Y/n’s. With help from Y/n’s roaming hands, Yoongi’s jeans and boxers joined his shirt. His painfully hard member stood at attention and drops of precum leaked from the tip. Leaning over her, Yoongi carefully pulled Y/n’s shorts and panties down. Yoongi felt his head spin at the sight. Y/n- completely bare and waiting for him to fuck her.

“You’re amazing.” Yoongi murmured. Y/n smiled up at him from the bed. He pumped himself a few times, more than ready. Yoongi laid himself down in between Y/n’s legs. He kissed her deeply, once more. Meeting Y/n’s eyes, Yoongi positioned himself at her entrance and thrust forward.

Y/n arched her back as Yoongi filled her, stretching her wonderfully. He pushed forward until he was buried completely inside. Yoongi moaned louder than ever and pressed his face into Y/n’s neck. She let out an involuntary whine as he began to rock into her slowly. Needing to hold on, Y/n wrapped her legs around Yoongi’s hips and pressed her nails into his back.

“God, Y/n.” Yoongi moaned. He pushed steadily into her, keeping pace. “You feel so good.” Y/n moaned, unable to speak. Yoongi moved faster and the four poster bed started to squeak beneath them. “I want to fuck you until your screaming for me.” He growled. Y/n felt her walls clamp on Yoongi in reaction to his words. She called his name into the room again and again, like a prayer.

Yoongi pumped harder into Y/n, pulling her thigh higher so that he was able to bury deeper inside. He hit her just right at that angle and Y/n cried out in a scream. Pressed together as close as possible, Yoongi knew he never wanted to leave this moment. He wanted to stay right here forever in pure ecstasy. He kissed Y/n suddenly with passion and love. Y/n kissed him back just as hard.

“Yoongi!” Y/n cried out. Yoongi was pounding into her desperately. “I can’t-” Yoongi reached between them and started rubbing Y/n’s clit. She bucked wildly into him.

“Come, Y/n.” Yoongi groaned. “I want to feel you come around me.” Y/n breath hitched and her moans came together. With Yoongi’s name on her lips, Y/n clenched around him and she came hard. Yoongi fucked her through her orgasm, moaning into her and feeling his own climax build. With a few more earth-shattering thrusts, Yoongi fell over the edge, coming inside her with a groan.

Yoongi collapsed against Y/n, breathing heavily. The air smelled of sweat and sex. Every bone in Yoongi’s body felt like jelly and his soul was singing. He rolled off of Y/n and pulled the girl against his chest. She smiled at him and laughed breathlessly.

“I love you,” Yoongi said suddenly. Looking at her now, smiling and breathless, Yoongi only wished he had told her sooner. Y/n’s smile widened.

“I love you, too” She said, cupping his face with her hand. Yoongi breathed a laugh of relief and kissed her.

~ ~ ~

The pair spent the next few hours wrapped up together in Y/n’s bed. They talked with each other and shared stolen kisses, reveling in the fact that they were young and in love.

When the afternoon came, Yoongi had to go meet Hoseok to study. He was already late, finding new ways to distract Y/n everytime she tried to redress him.

“You can’t blow off your friend!” She insisted.

“But, I want to blow off my friend!” Yoongi complained, unbuttoning the pants Y/n had just buttoned for him. Finally, Y/n got the man dressed and pushed him from the dorm. Yoongi watched from the doorway as Y/n walked back to the bed. She wore his sweatshirt that fell mid-thigh and her hair was pulled into a messy bun. Yoongi smiled as the girl searched for their abandoned spell books.

“I am so in love with you” Yoongi mumbled. Y/n turned, realizing he was still in the doorway.

“Get out!” She laughed. Yoongi smiled and left down the stone steps. He was still smiling when he entered the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Y/n was crying again the other day,” He heard a voice say. Yoongi froze.

“I know. She gets more upset everyday.” Another responded. Yoongi stepped into the shadows of the room, not wanting to be noticed. He wasn’t much for eavesdropping, but whoever these people were, they were talking about Y/n.

“I told her she has nothing to feel guilty for. She wasn’t involved.” Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. The voices, whoever they were, sounded familiar.

“I know that and you know that, but as long as she’s lying to Yoongi, Y/n won’t believe that” The second voice said. Yoongi shook his head, more confused than ever. He needed to know who was talking. Moving as quietly as he could, Yoongi stepped away from the corner slightly so he could see the two people talking on the couch.

It was Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Well, what are we gonna do. It’s not like we can tell Yoongi we put his name in the goblet.” Taehyung said. Yoongi paled.

“I don’t know what we can do.” Jungkook sighed. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Yoongi never needs to know who put his name in the goblet.”

Yoongi stepped back to the corner.

What the actual fuck

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

everything and more, part I

request: from @gwenandtheunfortunatename: Hey!! I mentioned something earlier ab a prequel to “everything and more?” Maybe some snippets of their relationship developing each year that’s not too disgustingly fluffy (Ik imma demon) but still cute? Like everything to how they first met to where they were in ur fic?? Idk

A/N: of course darling! i apologize in advance if it gets sappy and annoying that’s just who i am as a person lmao but i’ll do my best to keep it ~chill~ also this is going to be a mini series so i shall post when each part is up and ready :D will update as i go on, original piece is linked below loves!

tag list for fred: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @how-do-life-does @semmelsemi @perksofbeingawf @cottageoflove

other: @gwenandtheunfortunatename @bbystrawberry0421 @valwritesx

PART I | EVERYTHING AND MORE

Year 6

Fred Weasley had never really fancied a girl before.

At least, not one that mattered, anyway.

He first noticed you at the beginning of your sixth year—the Beauxbatons students had begun to filter into the Great Hall, and most of Hogwarts went wild at their arrival. You stood up and perched yourself higher on the bench, awe-struck and clapping with everyone else as your guests arrived and took their places. He watched as your hair danced across your shoulders, he watched your necklace bounce against your neck, he bit his lip when you smiled brightly. And to Fred, you were glowing.

You were golden, and he was smitten.

He’d done not much else that term except try and grab your attention, but it wasn’t working... or so he thought. You pretty much lived up to the expectation that Ravenclaws spent a majority of their time studying. Little did he know, he turned out to be a bit of a bad influence on you. Not truly bad, of course—it an exciting way. But much to Fred’s dismay, a lot of your time was spent in a place he wasn’t exactly fond of—the library.

“You alright, mate?”

Fred’s brothers had caught him staring at you across the Great Hall during a feast one evening, and began to snicker like little schoolgirls.

“Never seen him so interested in anything before,” Ron joked, punching his older brother in the arm.

Fred didn’t take his eyes off of you, though. He just breathed in deeply as his brothers and friends continued to tease him mercilessly.

George said, “Reckon he won’t go for it. He gets flustered around pretty girls.”

Which was... kind of true? Fred didn’t seem to get flustered when he finally plucked up enough courage to talk with you that evening when he spotted you heading back towards the Ravenclaw common room, but there have been times when it was known to happen. It was sweet.

Fred elbowed his twin in the ribs and said, “Would you lot shove off?”

He ran a hand through his long red hair, something you’d come to realize he did a lot when he was feeling rather nervous.

“Just go for it, mate,” Harry provoked him. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Fred shook the bad thoughts from his mind.

It was a late evening for you. Nearing almost midnight, you strolled out of the library, completely worn out by the amount of work you’d managed to finish in spite of all of the festivities going on with the Triwizard Tournament. You knew what everyone around you was thinking—it’s the first bloody night and you already had work? But to you, there was always room for studying and improvement.

The corridors were empty now, as you’d presumed, and you did your best to avoid any and all Hogwarts ghosts (and wandering professors!) because you were bloody exhausted and didn’t want to get wrapped up in conversation. But much to your dismay, it happened anyway.

But not with a ghost.

With that witty boy, Fred Weasley. He turned a bend and you nearly walked into one another. You were so tried.

“Bit early in term for studying, isn’t it?” he joked.

“It’s never too early—it called for a late night,” you replied, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. And then, teasingly, “Bit late in the evening for a stroll, eh?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, but you somehow knew that Fred Weasley probably didn’t go to sleep before midnight, anyway. He stuck his hand out in the dark corridor. “I’m Fred, by the way.”

But you knew. You didn’t need him to know that, though. “Hi. I’m Y/N,” he had a firm handshake, but not in an intimidating way. Something struck you about him, though.

“Can I walk you back to your common room?”

He was surprisingly charming. “Sure,” you replied, smiling at him. “Thanks.”

You and Fred had one class together last year. Potions. Not that you could really chat him up during that time anyway, or Snape would have your heads. It was a shame, because you always thought you’d get on well, and because you’d always wanted to tell him just how much you actually admired his and George’s pranks—they always gave you a good laugh. Harmless, they were, and you didn’t see anything wrong with that.

You really wanted to prank someone with him, actually. And he seemed to light up when you finally did tell him.

“Oooh,” he teased, “we may just have to make that happen.”

“Don’t tell any of my fellow Ravenclaws,” you said warningly. And then, softer, “Reckon they wouldn’t quite understand.” Fred laughed. “Well—thanks for the company, Fred. I’ll see you soon?”

He grinned before leaning against the wall near the entrance to your common room. “Yeah, soon.”

You were certain you went to bed with a very large grin plastered on your face.

The Great Hall was supposed to be quiet, as everyone was working on their assignments, but Snape could only shush so many students at once. Across from his twin, George threw a piece of parchment at Fred to catch his attention. “So?” he asked, “spit it out, then.”

Fred looked at him quizzically.

“Did you or did you not finally speak to Y/N?” Ron asked.

Snape threw a warning glance in their direction. Fred nodded inconspicuously.

The boys waited with baited breath. “And?” Harry, Ron, and George all asked together.

“And,” Fred replied through gritted teeth, “it was... nice. She’s rather sweet.” He wanted to keep most of the details to himself. His little secret.

Annoyed, Ron threw his quill at his older brother and his ink splattered all over the pages of blank parchment. Hermione hissed and slapped Ron on the arm, as if to scold him. Ignoring this, Ron rolled his eyes and turned back towards Fred, eyes wide and itching for more information. But Fred’s lips were sealed in a smirk.

Ron ruffled his hair and sighed, “You’re killing me, mate.”

Fred was about to fire back with some sarcastic comment, but was distracted when you sauntered into the Great Hall with some fellow Ravenclaws. When you walked past the Gryffindor table, you bit down on your bottom lip and slowly raised a hand and mouthed, “Hey,”

Fred did the same, his cheeks flushing red.

This time, when the boys started to snicker, Ginny was the one scolding them.

“You’re all gits,” she told them seriously. But being Fred and George’s little sister, she’d learned quite a lot about teasing from them over the years. “Leave poor Freddie alone. He’s emotional because he’s in loooove,”

But instead of fighting her on it, Fred stayed silent as everyone laughed quietly, his eyes following you straight to the Ravenclaw table, where they stayed most of the rest of the afternoon.

Most of your evenings were still being spent, regrettably so, in the library. Work was piling up and you were fretting about studying. You wanted to be more carefree. You just needed to let loose a little, so you left.

It was unreasonably warm for a winter day. Almost summer-like. You were walking with a very heavy bag slung over your shoulder when you spotted a very happy looking Fred down the way in front of the entrance. “Hey, Freddie!” you called, catching him by surprise.

When you caught up to him, he teasingly mocked, “Hey, Y/N!” just as excitedly as he picked you up and spun you around in a bone crushing hug. You felt your cheeks flush red and your whole body felt warm. “Where’re you off too?” He glanced at your bag you placed on the ground beside you and frowned. “Library? On a day like today?”

“I’m afraid so,” you told him begrudgingly. “It’s beautiful out.”

“Shame, really. Was going to ask you to join me. But you wouldn’t skip studying now, would you?” His narrow eyes were driving you bonkers.

You smirked at him and placed a hand on your hip. “Try me, Weasley.”

“Am I becoming a bad influence on you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, picking up your bag again and heading towards the entrance. When you turned around only to see him awe-struck, with a confused yet impressed look on his face, you asked him, “Well are you going to join me, or what?”

The grounds were especially beautiful that day.

For a few reasons, you supposed.

You and Fred had left your bags and warm robes near a tree somewhere and took to a very long stroll that lasted most of the day.

He was easy to talk too. You liked that. Nothing felt forced or rushed or awkward. He was just... him—funny and charismatic and charming, consistently making you laugh and question yourself—but only in the best of ways.

And you were intriguing to him. He always told you that you didn’t really live up to the Ravenclaw stereotype—rather than the studying, of course. He loved listening to your stories you told, and the way you laughed at his jokes. He was falling for you quickly and he never wanted that feeling of free fall to end.

“Bloody hell—is it dinner already?” You asked suddenly. You were lying in the grass with your eyes closed, discussing something about life after Hogwarts, when you shot up. Fred didn’t move as quickly as you did, though. The sun was beginning to set. You couldn’t wait for summer days when it was bright until the late evening. “We’d better get a move on—regrettably back to my house table, I’ve always thought it rather silly to not let the houses eat together, no? Always driven me mad.”

You pulled Fred to his feet and brushed some grass off of his shirt.

“Promise me something, okay?” he said. Teasingly, he continued, “unless you’re afraid.”

You furrowed your brow. “Well that depends—” you tugged on his arm playfully. “Kidding. What’s up?”

“Promise me that when you get bored of sitting with your housemates at the second task tomorrow,” he took your hands in his and pulled you closer as your heartrate sped up a considerable amount— “that you’ll come sit with me.”

“Why’s that?” you asked shyly.

He blinked and smiled softly. “‘Cause—I want to spend more time with you.”

There was palpable tension between you two. Just inches from each other you were, and he seemed to be leaning in closer ever so slowly. You caught yourself doing the same and your heart skipped a few beats. There was a light wind running itself through your hair and it made goosebumps rise on your arms and neck. Was it the wind? Or maybe—

His lips were nearly on yours.

It was so soft, you didn’t even know if it was real.

Then an awkward sort of grunt came from the trail beside you.

An uncomfortable, awkward looking Hagrid was running a hand through his very ratty, messy hair, and trying his best to act as if he hadn’t seen what was about to happen. Doing his best to hide his frustration, Fred sighed quietly through gritted teeth, squeezed your hand and pulled back, glancing towards the Gamekeeper. “How’re you, Hagrid?”

“Doin’ well, Freddie!” Hagrid called gruffly, still feeling slightly uncomfortable in the moment. To you, he said, “Miss Y/N.”

“Hi,” you waved back swallowing over a lump in your throat. Then Hagrid nodded at you both and continued to make his ways towards the castle for the dinner feast. You and Fred couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

And just like that. Moment over.

Regrettably, Fred sighed. “C’mon, then,” he interlocked his fingers in yours, “dinner awaits.”

At the Gryffindor table, it seemed as though Fred seemed to be the center of attention. Nothing new to him, actually—however, this time, he really didn’t want to be. Everyone seemed to be interested in what was going on with you two.

“Did you kiss her yet?” Ron asked.

“C’mon, just tell us already,” Harry pleaded.

“Don’t you two know that Freddie doesn’t kiss and tell?” George teased.

Hermione and Ginny just rolled their eyes at the boys—but still eyed Fred curiously.

But Fred stayed silent. Not something most people were used too. He just ate his dinner, smiled cheekily at his friends, and counted down the seconds until he could see you again.

“D’you reckon this is going to end well?”

Fred placed a hand on the small of your back, inching you forward to get a closer look. “Don’t go soft on me now, Y/N. Besides, it’s harmless—he’ll find it funny once we’re through with him.”

Pranking Fred’s twin brother was now making you more nervous than ever.

George was sitting at the Gryffindor table, flirting obnoxiously with Angelina Johnson, discussing something about Quidditch—dragging out the real thing he wanted to do—ask her out. You and Fred had strategically placed a hiccoughing sweet directly next to George’s plate, and to your satisfaction, he’d taken it and was holding it in his hands. Fred knew he’d go right for it. Angelina was sitting next to him, not supremely impressed by the fact that his flirting was, well, mediocre—at least compared to Fred’s.

She sat looking half bored, half amused when George finally took a bite of the sweet. Fred squeezed your shoulders, anticipation flooding his bones.

It was almost an instant, really, that George began hiccoughing uncontrollably. Angelina looked at him, perplexed, and began to giggle as George hiccoughed more and more. It was supposed to be a prank, but Angelina seemed to find it almost... charming? There was a new sort of gleam in her eye, one that wasn’t there before, one that seemed almost—admirable.

It was still funny, though, seeing George do everything in his power to stop this from happening, as he wanted nothing more than to ask Angelina on a proper date. You and Fred fell into a fit of giggles until he pulled you out of the entrance and onto the grounds. It was warm, but you still tried to hold back a shiver.

“Not one of your best, Weasley,” you told him. “Still funny—however I reckon George is going to be getting more than a date by the way Angelina was fawning over him. They’ll be snogging all night.”

“Ah, well—can’t win them all.” Fred replied when he finally caught his breath.

You smiled. “I regret to think Angelina may now be head over heels.”

“You think?” he asked and you nodded. And then—his hand was around the back of your neck, his thumb sweeping over your soft, rosy cheek. A heartbeat increase. A nervous smile. “And how do you feel?”

You prayed to any and all gods that no Gamekeeper, no twin, no nosy student would interrupt you both this time. It was hard enough walking away from that moment before, wanting nothing more than to press yourself into him but not being able too. But everything seemed to be moving in slow motion this time around.

You heard McGonagall’s muffled yells from the Great Hall—something seemed to be happening with some Slytherins, but her voice was drowned out by the blood pounding in your ears. Fred’s heartbeat increased and everything around you both seemed to come to a standstill, and you could see nothing but the rise and fall of his chest.

That free falling feeling again hit Fred like a ton of bricks, his stomach dropping in the best way every time your eyes moved from his, to his lips, and back again.

With a surge of confidence, you replied, “Like I’ll fall in love.”

You pulled on his tie and stopped just before your faces touched—making him wait just another moment. By the look he gave you, he was going mad and so were you. Then, slowly, you pressed your lips softly to his.

They molded together and moved in sync as you slung your other arm around his shoulders and he tightened his grip around your waist. The entire world stopped for Fred—nothing mattered except you—his hands on your waist, your eyelashes brushing gently against his cheek, his lips interlocked with yours.

You parted first, and he looked stunned. Like maybe he thought he’d be the one to kiss you first. You were nervous he’d be upset, but his cheeky smirk told you differently.

“You’re always going to surprise me, aren’t you?” he asked breathlessly.

You tugged on his tie again before leaning in for another nip. “I wouldn’t doubt it, Weasley.”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated!

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley series #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley twins imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #ginny weasley #ron weasley #harry potter #hermione granger

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vintagediavolo · 4 years

Text

You are worth it. (Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254916

***

“Are you alright, Harry?” Luna Lovegood asked while he dipped a ladle into the punch bowl on the table in front of them. He knew everyone meant well when they asked him this question, but as of late, it only served to worsen his anxiety. Just that morning, a concerned-looking Molly Weasley asked him the same question as he managed to eat only half the breakfast on his plate, but he managed to abate her distress with a wave of his hand and a steady reply.

Did he not look “alright”? Probably not, the voice inside his head retorted. He’d only been able to accomplish the bare minimum of taking care of himself ever since the war ended: brushing his teeth, taking a shower every other day, changing his clothes, and so on (these tasks were easier now that he could legally use magic outside of school, he could admit). Taking a moment to think and take a sip from the paper cup in his hand, mouth puckering at the fruity taste, he turned to her with his eyebrows furrowed.

“In all honesty, Luna, I don’t know.” She seemed unphased as she, too, reached for her own serving of punch. Her blonde hair fell in ringlets to her waist and her wrists were adorned by a multitude of gold bangles that jingled with each of her movements.

“That’s not surprising, Harry.” She spoke so quietly that he had to lean in closer to understand her words over the bustle of the surrounding partygoers (the Weasley family had decided to host a graduation celebration). “Your head has been swarming with more nargles than I’ve ever seen before.” This drew a chuckle out of him, but before he could find a clever response, she cut him off. “It’s okay to not be okay, Harry. After everything everyone has gone through, no one is the same. No one would blame you for not being okay.” The words invoked such a feeling in him that he nearly lurched and crushed the cup in his hand, but he managed to keep his stomach from plummeting too far. Studying Luna, he appreciated that no ounce of pity was detectable in her expression. In fact, she looked normal. Or… as normal as a Lovegood could.

She stood beside him and took a swig of her own punch, eyes trailing around everyone around them. Ron and Hermione were sat at a table not far away, giggling over whatever stupid joke the red-head probably made up on the spot. Harry smiled at the two. He was happy for them. He doubted that Ron would wait long to propose marriage to Hermione, seeing as their relationship progressed swimmingly since the war ended. Not to say that they didn’t struggle--oh, no. The missing hole of one Fred Weasley remained apparent and he knew that it would never disappear. He knew from personal experience that nothing could ever fill that missing space.

“Harry,” a deep voice said on his other side, making him jump and nearly spill the contents of his cup down the front of him. The voice had grown familiar to him now. A few weeks ago, if you had asked him if he thought he was going to be good friends with the second eldest Weasley, Harry would’ve scoffed. He knew that the man’s heart resided in Romania, and he never thought starting a friendship with said dragon tamer would’ve been possible due to his free-spirited lifestyle. It turned out Charlie took a few months off in order to be with his family after… well. The grieving process would be easiest if the family was together, Charlie explained to him one night as they sat in the front lawn in the damp grass, the red-head’s normal passionate expression completely gone.

Harry recalled the sudden ache of his heart during that moment. Of course he dealt with his own share of familial loss through his parents and Sirius, but it was different. He’d never been able to form a close relationship with his parents seeing as he was only a year old when they were murdered, and Sirius’s relationship with him was short-lived to say the least. The thought of knowing someone your entire life, to have them be blood-related to you, and then for them to be suddenly taken away…

Swallowing the last bit of punch, he raised an eyebrow at the man as he turned for a second serving. “Charlie.” He watched Charlie open his mouth with the question posed on his lips “Before you ask if I’m alright, I’ll supply you the answer that no, I am not. But who is, really?”

“Wow, Harry Potter admitting that he isn’t alright? Did you slip something into his punch? Veritaserum, maybe?” Charlie asked Luna after a moment, who shook her head.

“Oh, no. I was just helping him get rid of some of the nargles.”

“Nargles?” Charlie asked, and Harry found himself humoured as he witnessed them spiral into a conversation about the creatures that Luna often spoke of. He knew Luna was going to be working with her father to produce the Quibbler now that they graduated, but he wondered if she’d pursue any other career. Harry didn’t even have a single idea for himself. He’d always fancied the idea of enlisting in the Ministry of Magic’s auror department, but he decided one night after a few (more than a few, let’s be honest) drinks that the experiences he lived through was enough excitement for more than a few lifetimes. His next idea was Hogwarts. He was sure Professor McGonagall would have loved to have him as a professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he decided that didn’t feel right to him either. He simply didn’t know what he wanted to do. Ron seemed perfectly fine pursuing his original dream of becoming an auror, and he knew Hermione was already working on getting a job within the ministry.

He felt lost.

Relaxing wasn’t something he was used to. After spending his entire life on edge about a psychotic dark wizard coming after him and having it go away, he didn’t… he couldn’t find a way to sit back and enjoy life. It was weird to see his friends grieve but continue to progress with their lives whereas he remained stuck in this mental purgatory. Seeing a shrink might be good for his well-being, but he didn’t wish to beleaguer yet another person with his onset of issues, even though Hermione had assured him one night that that was their job and they knew what they were signing up for. It still made him uneasy.

“Seriously, Harry,” Charlie’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Do you want to go inside or something? You look peaky.” The expression of concern on the Weasley’s face made Harry’s skin crawl. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get used to people being concerned for his well-being, but perhaps that’s what a decade plus with the Dursley’s did to someone’s psyche. He tore his eyes away from Charlie’s, instead easing his own turmoil by studying the freckles that adorned his nose.

“He’s right,” Luna said, setting her cup on the silk table-cloth. “It’s getting late anyway.” She gestured to the horizon where the sun sank a few hours prior with a jingle of bangles. There was still enough light to make the party visible, but it was fleeting. Fairy-lights that were earlier strung across the garden by Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were beginning to twinkle, and Bill had begun to light the torches that were staked in the ground with a wave of his wand. “No one would think it odd for you to go to bed. Or do other things.” The sly implication of her words and her glance between himself and Charlie made his complexion burst into a brilliant red. Thankfully, Charlie had become preoccupied after Bill had come to light the torch nearest them and started a conversation that was probably about dragons.

“Luna, he doesn’t think of me like that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Harry. He has an impressive number of fluttering humdingers at the crown of his left temple.” He blinked, not understanding the implications of this whatsoever. Before he could wrap his head around the statement and question her on it, a tipsy Ginny Weasley swooped in, in demand of Luna’s attention. “I’ll see you around, Harry.” He bid her farewell, hiding his smile at Ginny’s antics. She could be an absolute madwoman, and after a generous amount of firewhisky that was no exception. He knew the Weasley woman harboured a crush on Luna just as Luna knew he harboured a crush on Charlie.

Damn emotions.

The light feeling within him was dissipating along with the sunlight though, he could admit, and so he resorted to vanishing his cup after making sure the contents were drained and rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He wondered if he should tell anyone that he was retiring for the night, but after looking around and seeing everyone occupied, he deemed it unnecessary.

Carefully brushing past Bill and Charlie who stood near the back entrance to the house, he caught a few of their words and suppressed a chuckle at the affirmation that they were talking about dragons--Hungarian Horntails, to be exact. Apparently before Charlie came home after the war, the reserve received a few hatchlings of the species and he was recalling them burning the eyebrows off one of the nursery workers through his laughs .An unpleasant shiver ran through him as the name reminded him of the Triwizard Tournament and how he out-flew one of the beasts out of sheer luck. He must’ve stopped on the step amidst his thoughts, and he cursed as Charlie caught sight of him. “Harry. You’re going in? Do you mind if I join you?” He didn’t miss the wink Bill sent his way, but he managed to not get too flustered. Everyone seemed to know something he didn’t.

He admitted to himself that the two older Weasleys were accountable for his sexual awakening as a teen. Something about Bill’s earring and Charlie’s freckles after he arrived at the Burrow the summer of the Quidditch World Cup made his heart beat faster and… other regions of his body feel a sort of way. He would never admit that to anyone. He could imagine the mortified expression on Ron’s face if he told him he realised he was gay by looking at two of his brothers. His feelings for Bill subsided over time, thankfully (he didn’t wish to cause any troubles with Fleur. Merlin, that woman scared him more than Ginny, and that was saying something), but alas, something about Charlie still made his stomach turn in on itself. A part of him wished that they could start something, but he knew it was unlikely.

He was eight years younger than Charlie, for crying out loud, and who would want to date their younger brother’s best friend. That would just be awkward. And having that younger brother’s best friend be the world-renowned Boy-Who-Lived was the bitter icing on the cake.

“Um… sure,” Harry said. He only planned on going to the bedroom he shared with Ron and writing in his journal for a bit until he lulled off to sleep, so he couldn’t produce an excuse that would drive the older Weasley away. Together, the two of them entered the house and ascended the creaking staircase without a word until they entered the bedroom.

“Tell me, Harry. What do you think you’re going to do after all this settles down?” Charlie asked, sitting down next to where Harry sat on his bed, who was pulling his journal out from underneath his pillow. He thought for a moment, carefully picking out his words. He had just been going over this in his head in the backyard.

“I don’t know,” Harry said finally. It was the only thing he could think of. “After so many years of worrying about lives that weren’t my own, I’m afraid I don’t know what to do with myself.” The words rolled off his tongue worryingly easily. It was an effect that often came over him when in Charlie’s presence. Blimey, maybe I should just ask Charlie to be my therapist, he joked to himself.

“No one is rushing you.” Harry watched as Charlie laid back over the edge of the bed, struggling to keep his eyes from wandering to where the hem of his shirt had risen to display the rigid muscles underneath. They were freckled, he noted. He wondered just how much of the Weasley's body was covered in freckles. Berating himself, he tore his eyes off Charlie in favour of rooting through the bedside table drawer for a pencil.

“I know, but…” He began after finding the writing utensil. “I just feel stuck.” A quiet silence ensued. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but a sense of uncertainty hung in the air that Harry pointedly ignored, instead leafing through the pages of his journal until he found a blank page. Halfway through word vomiting on the paper, pencil scribbling furiously against the parchment, Charlie suddenly sat up, causing Harry to flinch.

“Harry, can I ask you something?” He could feel the colour draining from his face. Did Charlie notice his, as what Luna described them, “not-so-subtle” glances towards him? Did he think he was gross because of it? What if…

Charlie must’ve noticed the panicked look on his face. “Harry, what is it with you lately? You were fine with me at first, but… Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Harry shouted, surprising the both of them. Groaning, he slammed the journal shut and put it aside, instead laying his head on his pillow with his eyes shut tight. “Quite the opposite, really.” As soon as he choked this out, he went cold, and he could feel the sweat beginning to permeate his forehead. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and see Charlie’s horrified expression. If the older man wasn’t already put off of him, what would this bring?

“Harry?” Deciding to face whatever this led to--it couldn’t be worse than Voldemort, right?--, he sat up and opened his eyes after an insufferable moment of silence, ready to offer an explanation when the redhead simply leaned forward in a blur of freckles, blue eyes, and tanned skin and simply placed an unchaste kiss to his lips. Brain buffering, Harry looked at Charlie as he broke away with an expression of pure confusion, all the while struggling to speak.

“I.. You.. You just-” Charlie only smiled at him. With no words to be spoken, Harry launched himself forward into the man, enthusiastically returning the action. Charlie’s arms wrapped around his waist and he let himself run his hands through the Weasley’s hair, which was as soft as he imagined. He almost started comparing it to the kiss he shared with Ginny in the Room of Requirement three years prior, but he quickly shoved that from his mind. That wouldn’t be very appropriate, and it made Harry feel a little nauseous if he were to be honest. When they separated to breathe, Harry sighed against Charlie’s lips and let his eyes meet the other’s. On the outside, they were only looking at each other, but they were really conveying all their feelings for each other through that single gaze.

“Come to Romania with me.” Charlie’s words were quick but loud and to the point, and they caused Harry to tense. Leaning away from him, all Harry could do was look at Charlie with his eyes wide open. He couldn’t feel the beating of his heart anymore and he thought he died for the third and final time, but he knew that was untrue as soon as Charlie’s lips on his neck brought him back to the bedroom. He tried to speak but the Weasley had chosen that moment to open his mouth and place a wanton kiss on his collarbone, tongue sinfully dragging along his skin. Unconsciously, he arched into Charlie and he bit his bottom lip so he couldn’t release the moan that abruptly fought its way up his throat. His fingers dug into the older man’s shoulders and he could feel just how muscular he was.

“B-but… Romania is your space,” Harry eventually said through a heavy exhale, regaining his thought process. “Why would you w-” Charlie suddenly bit the area he had been sucking on and Harry squealed, embarrassingly enough. Really, it was pathetic. Deciding his work was done, Charlie ceased his onslaught for a moment to be serious. He made sure that Harry was looking at him once more.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t like you being with me? Look at us right now.” Amidst their snog-fest, Charlie ended up cross-legged on the bed with Harry straddling him, and Harry blushed as he took notice of the position.

“Well. Living with me would be more than just this,” he argued. “Oh, I was planning on making that happen.” Harry playfully glared at him but slid off his lap to sit in front of him. Charlie only took one of Harry’s hands in his own and squeezed, encouraging him to talk about what he wanted to. He could see the warring emotions on the boy’s face and he didn’t wish to further overwhelm him. “I just… In all honesty, Charlie, I’m a mess.” All his words were met with was a cocked eyebrow. Harry stroked the large burn scar on the back of Charlie’s hand with his thumb instead of explaining himself.

He wondered what kind of dragon did it. Was it a blasted Hungarian Horntail or was it some other species? A Welsh Green perhaps… or an Antipodean Opaleye? He remembered reading about them in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was elated to be teaching about his favourite animals and Harry brought to mind the way Hagrid’s beady eyes shone when he told the class about a dragon he had once met named Norbert. For a moment, he was curious as to if the Norwegian Ridgeback (renamed Norberta as per gender discovery) was still a resident of Charlie’s reserve, but he knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

“Is that it, Harry? We’re all right bloody messes,” Charlie said.

“Yes, but are you sure you want me to be your mess?”

That was it. That was what he wanted to get out. He knew everyone was dealing with their post-war feelings, but dating him came with everything else that had to do with Harry Potter. “The Boy-Who-Lived”. Oh, how he wished to squash that title out of existence. Charlie would be subject to press coverage and ruthless Daily Prophet article after article. He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without being recognised as “Harry Potter’s significant other!” and he didn’t want anyone to have to live with that. The press was capable of driving anyone mad, even the most patient of people. An image of an evilly-smiling Rita Skeeter and her acid-green quill popped into his mind and he had to stop himself from shivering.

During the beginning of everyone’s stay at the Burrow, Harry attempted a trip to Diagon Alley in search of a new owl. He was already distraught in this as thoughts of Hedwig getting struck down over the night lights of London repeatedly played in his head, but everything escalated when he was essentially mobbed inside the Leaky Cauldron upon arrival by hungry press reporters and lunatic fans. The flashing lights and bodies pushing against him made him freeze and he could remember wanting to crawl into himself. Thankfully, Tom noticed what was happening from where he stood preparing drinks for people sitting at the bar, and after casting a sonorous charm, demanded they all give him room.

The paparazzi were unenthused at the order but nonetheless complied, not wanting to get kicked out of the pub. Shaken, Harry merely turned around and disapparated directly back to the Burrow, startling a Charlie Weasley (of course) who was coming outside to fetch Errol after he’d dive-bombed into the dining room window once again. That was their first interaction with each other. Charlie had had a joke immediately forged in his head but upon seeing the dreadful expression on Harry’s face, he forgot all about the old unconscious owl laying in the bed of herbs and the witty words on the tip of his tongue.

“You?” Current Charlie asked although he fully understood where the younger boy was coming from.

“Me.” Charlie kind of wanted to slap the forlorn look off Harry’s face but he only brought his hands up to hold it, carefully brushing the wild hair from his eyes.

“Harry, I couldn’t care less about that. You are worth it. Besides, the director at the reserve wouldn’t let any press within 10 kilometres of the place. He is very strict on maintaining the reserve’s privacy.”

You are worth it.

Charlie began explaining the reserve in detail, but Harry stuck to those four words that he stated so casually. He said them without knowing how much they struck Harry in the gut, but he decided he needed to let the man know. Wrapping his arms around Charlie’s neck, he drew him back in and it didn’t take long before they were making out again. He could taste the butterbeer they were drinking earlier on Charlie, and he wished he could drown in the man for eternity. When he pulled away, he smiled as Charlie chased after him. Ducking, he began kissing the neck beneath his jaw, and he could feel two hands grip his waist. “Okay.”

Charlie shook at the sensation of Harry’s lips moving against his neck and the way his breath tickled, but he realised what he said. “Okay?”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry said, a whisper. The blinding smile that Charlie gifted him took his breath away.

“Say it again.”

“I’ll come with you,” he complied, this time a bit louder. They crushed each other in a hug and Harry had to furiously blink away the burning sensation in his eyes.

“What in the bloody hell are you two doing?” The new voice in the room startled the both of them, and they turned to look at Ron, who was standing in the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. Before either of them explained their position or why they were wrapped in a passionate embrace with each other, Ron groaned painfully and let his head fall back against the doorframe. “Is that a hickey?”

Sure enough, the mark where Charlie had bit his neck had blossomed into a red bruise and all Charlie could do was send his brother a sheepish grin. “Sorry, bro. I seem to have taken to your friend.”

“Seriously, Harry? First Ginny, and now Charlie. Are you going to try and seduce me next? Have your turns with the whole family?” Harry was worried that Ron was truly angry, but the tone of his voice relieved him as he could tell the younger redhead was joking. “Sorry, mate. You’ll have to fight Hermione for that one.” They shared a healthy laugh and it was almost odd. Over the growing months, genuine laughs had become rare, but their trio of chuckles sounded natural. Unforced. Smiling, Harry leaned back into Charlie’s chest and closed his eyes, letting Charlie lean down to kiss him on the head. “Now don’t get too comfortable in here,” Ron said, sounding nervous.

“No worries, Ron,” Harry said, but he missed the wink Charlie sent Ron over his shoulder that made the younger Weasley look a bit queasy. Nothing “too comfortable” happened, though, much to Ron’s relief. Harry fell asleep in Charlie’s arms and Charlie fell asleep holding him, and Ron cursed himself for not having a camera on hand.

All Harry knew was that he was going to get to start over. Live his own life. Being able to do it with a man he was sure he would grow to love was an added bonus.

For once in his 18 years of existence, everything was going to be okay.

(Except for when they told Mrs. Weasley he was going to be moving to Romania to live with her second eldest son, but he’d take that over preparing to fight a dark lord any day).

***

#harry potter x charlie weasley #harry potter #charlie weasley #harry #potter #charlie #weasley #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #fic #gay ships #slash

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2k17cashton · 7 years

Text

The Final Task (Gryffindor! Calum)

perhaps the most requested thing in the history of my blog

pairing: reader&Calum

warnings: just some swearing I guess

word count: 7,310 (this is long af)

summary: The final task of the Triwizard Tournament and also the 4th part to my hogwarts!calum series, I suggest you read part one, two, and three before you dive into this one.

Time passes by quickly at Hogwarts. There is always something to do, whether it’s studying, taking spontaneous trips to Hogsmeade, exploring dark parts of the Castle, going through restricted areas, visiting Hagrid’s Hut for a quick chat and one of his hard as stone cookies or even just spending countless hours in the library reading and doing nothing else.

Time is such an odd concept, you can’t feel it, you can’t tell if it has an end, you just know it’s surrounding you from every part. Time takes away everything around you, all the things you might get accustomed to, time makes sure they’re not there forever. The icy grass has slowly gained back its color and it started growing again, the dead flowers have raised high once again, beaming in the sun, the leafs have gone back to living on the trees, not on the ground. And it’s all because of time.

But time can also be evil. It can bring excruciating pain. The pain of waiting for something to happen is brutal, it consists of bitten fingernails and bouncy feet, fast beating hearts and shivers running through your body. And that is the only thing time has given you lately. Pain.

The cold weather is long gone now, warm wind beating against the trees, making branches shake and birds fly high into the sky, past the clouds. The wind is no longer something everyone fears, but rather something they enjoy. It’s not violent, it’s like a touch across the tops of your shoulders, it’s soothing. It’s one of the only touches you can enjoy, all the others seem to startle you and make you flinch away. You’ve been avoiding any kind of interraction for a while now anyway.

It’s not because you wanted to, god no, every time he touched you, you used to quiver under his hands and push closer into him, wanting it all across your body. Now, all it did was leave you cold. Wherever his fingers would trace across your skin, you would shiver and feel icy lines imprinted into you. It wasn’t comforting anymore, it left you feeling pain and cold all over.

It led to arguments, tremendous arguments, screaming and crying and lots and lots of pain. There were angry “I love you’s” and the feeling of not being able to breathe. And it hurt, not only you, but him as well. It hurt every single time he would throw the words at you, they just seemed so vain, almost as if he was struggling to get them to you, to send them right through you so you could feel their power, but you couldn’t. They were empty, just like you.

“God dammit, Y/N! I’m trying my fucking best over here and you’re not helping at all!” He screamed, throwing away any kind of hope that was left of a decent conversation.

“Stop yelling, Calum.” You sighed, letting the book fall from your hands to the ground, not even able to hold it any more.

“No, you stop being so calm! Yell, scream, say something!” He clearly wasn’t going to stop, and you weren’t in the mood to fight back either, but he wanted for you to. Needed it.

“I don’t want to!” He finally got a reaction, which you didn’t want to give, but you couldn’t just hold it in anymore. “I’m tired of yelling, Calum, I’m tired of all of this! My lungs hurt, my head is dizzy and my whole body aches, can you just stop already?” You ended on a quieter note, dropping your head into your hands.

“Yeah, well, so am I. I’m tired of you acting like this, you haven’t said anything to me in over a week, talk to me!” He sighed exasperated and dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs, trying to get you to look at him.

“I’m talking.” You said quietly, leaning slightly into him, because despite everything, you still wanted to feel him close; he became like air and every time he was away for too long, you couldn’t breathe.

“Not like this.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to your knees. “You’re not talking to me, you just talk to make noise. It’s like you don’t want me to be here.” His unruly hair was covering his face and you wanted so badly to run your fingers through the curls, but you didn’t. “Do you want me to go, Y/N?” He looked up at you through shaky and tired eyelids. “Do you want me to leave you alone?” He said, the words most likely stinging his tongue. “Because I will. As much as it hurts, I’ll go.” He waited for you to say something, but it was all in vain.

You couldn’t talk. You had no idea what you wanted. “It’s Calum, Calum, Calum! All you want, all you need, it’s him!” Your brain kept on yelling at you, but you ignored the distant voice until it faded away. He surrounded you from every part, intoxicated the air you breathed and completely blurred your vision, the only thing you could see, breathe and taste was him. And it wasn’t good. It was toxic, it was even worse that you didn’t want for it to stop. But you had to stop it. No matter how much it hurt.

“All I need…” You said in a shaky breath, Calum’s eyes lighting up at the sound of your voice. “Is time.” But that is obviously not what he wanted to hear. “Just some time.”

So he gave you time. He gave you all the time in the world. His chest hurt at night every time he would wake up from dreaming of you and his fingertips would tingle with the need of feeling your skin, but he waited. Give her time.

You had no idea why you wanted time, why time was so important. Days were passing by excruciatingly slow without Calum and the nights seemed even longer, almost never-ending. He was like a drug that you had to leave behind in order to get better and back on track. And slowly, as the days passed right by you, it seemed like a good decision.

It wasn’t until weeks later when you finally bumped into each other. He skipped every class you had together, was never present for breakfast, lunch or dinner, never played Quidditch and never tagged along to the weekly Hogsmeade trips. He wanted you to have all the space and time away from him. But as much as he tried to stay away, he couldn’t hide forever.

“Hi.” He breathed out when he saw you, his voice barely audible.

“Hey, Calum.” Your eyes were glued to his face, finally seeing him for the first time in almost three weeks.

As much as you had joked before about him never growing any facial hair and teasing him every time he shaved for basically no reason, you could now see he really looked to be in need of a shave. He had deep dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked dry. You can’t say you looked any better, most likely the same. Well, except for the beard.

“H-How have you been?” He asked shakily, his eyes shifting anywhere but on your face.

“I’ve been better.” You smiled slightly, and he nodded, most likely agreeing. “You, uh…” You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “You got a haircut.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, running his fingers through the short curls. “Figured it was about time.” You nodded, agreeing.

“Looks good.” You bit your lip, contemplating your next words, but then just thinking “screw it” and going for it. “What are you doing tonight?”

So you waited for the time to pass, but it just seemed to stay still. It’s almost as if the clock had been cursed to stay into place and not move. Seconds seemed to turn into minutes and minutes into hours. Just ten more minutes until everyone went to sleep and you could sneak out. Ten more minutes of biting your nails and running your fingers through your hair until it got all tangled up again.

When the clock finally ticked nine, you bolted out of the room. Your steps echoed through the Ravenclaw Tower, so you decided to ditch your shoes and also your robe, throwing them onto the couch in the Common Room and tip toe out the door, wand clutched tightly between your fingers.

Looking around, you couldn’t see him. You decide it’s best to just stay in place, exactly where he said he’d meet you, and fidget with your fingers anxiously. Not even a minute passed by until you hear steps coming from behind you and you turn around, but don’t see anyone. Walking towards the staircase, no one is in sight. Frowning confused, you turn around and almost scream bloody murder, before he puts a finger over his lips and hushes you.

“You really need to stop getting so scared all the time.” He chuckles, backing away and you sigh, closing your eyes for a split second.

“And you really need to stop scaring me.” You retort, but drop the subject quickly.

“Sorry.” He says quietly, looking down at his feet and then frowning. “Where are your shoes?” He asks.

“Oh,” You remember, shaking your head. “I left them behind, they were making too much noise.” You turn around and start walking towards the stairs, but then frown and stop in your tracks, looking back at him. “Actually, I have no idea where I’m going.”

You haven’t wandered around the Castle this late since… well, since you last went to see Calum. And that seemed like such a distant memory now. Sometimes you would look at the clock on the wall at night and think to yourself just half an hour more, but then you’d realize no one was waiting for you anymore. So you stopped counting the minutes.

“Uh…” He thinks for a few seconds, then smiles. “Well, there’s always the Prefects’ bathroom. There’s no one there at this hour and it’s big and surprisingly very nice, we could- “You cut his rambling short.

“Calum, I don’t care if it’s the Prefects’ bathroom or Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.” You start to make your way back towards him. “I only want a quiet place, just for us.” You whisper the last part and he looks at you through long eyelashes, biting his lip.

“Fuck, okay.” He nods quickly and goes to grab your hand, but then immediately stops himself. “Can I?”

Looking down at his expecting hand, you suddenly feel uneasy. You haven’t had any kind of contact in a very long time, the last few times his skin touched yours it left you cold on the inside and made you want to push him away. But you missed him, just remembering how his touch used to feel before makes your skin tingle, so you nod, slipping your fingers through his and breathing in deeply. He is warm, not cold against your skin anymore, and you had no idea until now how much you had missed this.

He gave a small smile, gripping onto your hand tighter and starting to walk towards the Hospital Wing where the Prefects’ bathroom was also located. The night was quiet, the only sound heard were your quick steps through the empty Castle. Reaching the 4th door down the long corridor, you hear Calum whisper “Pine Fresh” and the large door opens in front of you. You keep on taking small steps behind him, jumping a little bit in your place as the door shuts behind you.

“See? I told you it was nice.” He beams and you have to agree.

The bathroom, as odd as that might sound, is actually really beautiful. There are pictures of mermaids on stained glass windows, marble tiles and most importantly, a big tub, almost the size of a pool, in the middle of the room, overflowing with bubbles.

“You wanted to get me here so we could take a bath?” You grin and hold back a laugh when you see his eyes widening.

“No, no, no, it’s nothing like that, I just thought- “You shake your head with a giggle.

“Calum, I was kidding. It’s okay.” He breathes out in relief and still not letting go of your hand, he guides you close to the tub, sitting down and crossing his legs, you following his actions.

After that it’s silent for a while, the only sound in the room consists of the taps running different colored water and the bubbles popping. He doesn’t know what to say and neither do you, but he still doesn’t let go of you hand, no matter how clammy it got. He only grips on tighter.

“So- “You start to say, but he talks at the same time.

“I missed you.” He suddenly blurts out and you nod.

“Me too.” You feel his thumb run over the back of your hand and it’s comforting. “So much, Calum. You have no idea.”

“But I want to.” He says, his voice desperate. “I want to have idea how much you missed me.” He pushes closer to you, your knees touching. “I want to know why you left.” At that you sigh and break eye contact.

“I never left, I was still in my room.” You try to state the obvious, but that’s not the answer he was looking for. “I told you, I needed… time.”

“Time for what?” He pushes and you find it very hard to give him an exact answer.

“Ever since the Second Task.” You start with a sigh, gripping onto him tighter. “I just couldn’t…” You trail off, trying to find your words. “I couldn’t shake that feeling away. It’s like every time you touched me, I felt cold all over again. The exact same cold I felt that day at the lake.” Your eyes can’t possibly meet his, so you keep them glued onto his messily tied shoelaces.

“It hurt, Calum. I needed to get away from it.” Swallowing hard, you prepare yourself for saying the thing that had been bothering you most. “And what you said to me that day…” You trail off.

“What, that I loved you?” He says quietly and you nod. “You know I never lie to you, Y/N.”

“I know.” You nod quickly. “And that’s why it terrified me. Because you never lie.”

“The idea of me possibly being in love with you terrifies you?” He asks and you just nod, biting down on your lip. “Why?” He whispers quietly.

“I can’t, Calum- “He cuts you off when you begin shaking your head.

“No, don’t tell me you can’t say or you don’t know.” He says angrily. “I’m tired of that answer. Tell me how that makes you feel, tell me if you feel it too.” He leans closer to you, placing a hand on your thigh, and you exhale in relief when his fingers feel warm again, not cold. “Because I’m not taking my words back, Y/N.” He shakes his head from side to side. “Not now, not ever.”

“God dammit, Calum, I don’t want to love you!” You finally say exasperated. “As much as I want to say I do, I don’t want to admit it to myself.” Composing yourself, you let the words flow out of you. “I’m afraid that if you get hurt, if you…die.” The words hurt just saying them, but they are the truth. “Then I’ll be left here without you, without anything but empty words.” You feel your eyes get heavy with tears. “I’ll be left loving you and waiting for you to love me back, but it just wouldn’t happen.”

You don’t even realize how fast things are happening, you don’t remember the first sob that escaped your lips or his arms wrapping securely around you, a hand keeping your head hidden into his chest. You don’t know when you started crying and completely soaking his shirt, but all you know is that you feel good, right there, engulfed into his body.

A good ten minutes pass before you finally come back to reality. Your tears are now cold onto his shirt and slowly drying, lips swollen and eyes puffy. His arms are still secure around you and you sigh into him, pressing your cheek to his heart, hearing it beat beneath you and making you relax.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet cheeks.” He whispers after a while, voice hoarse. “You’re stuck with me forever.” You can already tell just by the way he talks that he is smiling.

“Don’t make empty promises.” You shake your head.

“I’m not promising you I won’t get hurt.” He says back. “I most likely will. And really bad to be honest.” You wince just at the thought. “But you know I don’t give up that easily. Not even death can take me away from you.” You slap his chest and he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here to stay.” He whispers over your skin. “That I can promise you.”

You lift your head from his chest and sniffle, looking into his eyes. You know that when Calum makes a promise, he will keep it. But you just don’t know if this promise depends on him. He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, fingers caressing your cheek and you gasp.

“Please tell me I’m not making you cold again.” He says quietly, shutting his eyes tight. “Anything but that.”

“No…” You shake your head, nose bumping into his. “You’re the warmest you’ve ever been.”

His lips immediately crash onto yours after you say those words. You didn’t realize until then how much you had missed the softness of his lips and their sweet taste. Your body pushes back into him, wanting to get as close as possible.

“I love you.” He breathes out heavily. ”Fuck, I love you so much you have no idea.” He kisses you heavily again. “I don’t need to hear you say it back.” His fingers run through your hair. “Just let me say it.” You nod quickly, biting down on his lower lip. “I’ll say it until my mouth hurts and my tongue bleeds.” You gasp at his words, arms wrapping around his neck and legs straddling his lap. “I’ll never stop.” You look into his eyes and before you would have said they were filled with lust but today, today you can say there’s a different emotion hiding behind them. “Just say yes.” He leans back to get a better look at you. “That’s all I ask of you.” You run your fingers down his face, appreciating every single crease and dimple.

“Please.” You say quietly. “Don’t ever stop saying it.” He breathes out in relief, fingertips digging into your hips.

“I love you.” He says and you push closer into him, lips covering his. “I love you.” He mumbles into your mouth. “I love you.” He sighs over your cheek, pecking it gently.

You lock eyes again and you finally feel the life come back into your body. You feel whole again, because of Calum. And in this moment you realize he’s the other half of your soul you’ve been missing all along. Your hands press onto his cheeks, making his pretty lips pucker up and bringing a smile to your face. Everything seems peachy until you feel water splashing all over you making you close your eyes and gasp in surprise.

“Myrtle!” You both yell at the same time over the sound of the ghost’s giggles.

The months of spring passed by quickly, almost as a blur. The first days of summer definitely made a statement, an unbelievable heat wave engulfing Hogwarts. Everyone was mostly outside, having spontaneous water fights that would lead them to detention. The big windows of the library had finally been open, letting fresh air inside, something different from the usual smell of old dusty books.

That’s where you had been spending most of your time. You lived, breathed and only saw the library books. Anything, and absolutely any kind of information you could gather about the third and final task, you wrote it down. It took away all your free time and preoccupied your mind constantly, but there was no time left. It was either this week, or never.

Calum had been trying to get all the studying off your mind, but there was no way he could do that. In class, you daydreamed about it, at breakfast, lunch at dinner you always carried a book with you, at night you couldn’t sleep thinking about it so you would get out of bed at unbelievable hours and read under the covers with your wand lighting up the dark room.

Despite his protests and worries, you just couldn’t stop. You were too worried that you might have missed a certain paragraph that could possibly save his life. You just wanted to make sure. But he wasn’t worried. He actually seemed more than fine, considering he was going to be in a life or death situation in less than twenty-four hours. He ate his porridge that morning with no care in the world, stroking your thigh under the table and joking with his friends.

You had started joining him at the Gryffindor table for breakfast in the last couple of weeks, wanting to stay as glued to him as possible. And since mornings were not as crowded as dinners, you chose to do it just then so you wouldn’t attract too much attention, having the only blue uniform between all the red ones.

That day after your classes had ended, you went straight to the library and spent a good two hours with your nose hidden in a book, scribbling messy notes on the side. You jolted and almost lost the page when you felt hands press down onto your shoulders, clutching the book tightly to your chest.

“You really need to stop doing that.” You press your forehead to the wooden table, sighing in relief.

“It never gets old.” He chuckles and drags a chair next to you.

“I’m busy, Calum.” You resume with your reading, trying to figure out which paragraph you had left on.

“What could possibly be more important than my company?” He frowns funnily, and you roll your eyes.

“Saving your ass from dying, that’s what.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve been trying to do that constantly for the past three weeks, give it a break.” He whines, placing his chin on your shoulder.

“Not today, Cal.” You close your eyes a bit longer when you feel his hot breath fan over your neck.

“This might just be the last time you see me intact.” He jokes. “Who knows, maybe I’ll lose an eye. What would you think about that?” He leans back and waits for your reply.

“I would think damn, I could have prevented that if he would have just let me read.” You glare at him and mark your page, knowing you most likely won’t be able to get back to your studying anytime soon.

“You’re tired.” He frowns, lifting your chin up with a finger. “I can see it on your face.”

“Gee, thanks for appreciating these beautiful bags under my eyes.” You say sarcastically, running a hand over your face.

“Seriously, when was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” He asks, the worry still not leaving his eyes.

“I honestly don’t know.” You sigh finally admitting to him that you hadn’t really been sleeping in the past couple of weeks.

“Come on, you need a break.” He nudges your foot under the table.

“I’m not sure I can even get up.” You yawn, arms stretching above your head.

He grabs your wrist, helping you get up and steady yourself and then turns around. You frown in confusion, but then he glances back at you, motioning towards his back. Catching onto what he was saying, you laugh and place your hands on his shoulders.

“Really? Piggy-back rides? How old are you?” Despite saying that, you still climb onto his back, his arms securing under your thighs.

“Hey, age doesn’t matter as long as I can keep you from possibly collapsing while walking down the stairs.” You cock an eyebrow at that.

“Touché.” You agree and lean down to pick up your bag.

“Shall we?” You point towards the exit and he starts walking, jumping up a bit to startle you. “Stop.” You giggle as he walks at a faster speed towards the door.

“No running in the library!” You can hear a female voice yell from the front desk and you gasp.

“Sorry, Madam Pince!” You call back to the librarian and see her shake her head.

“Kids.” She says under her breath as Calum opens the big library door, walking down the hall.

“Where are you taking me?” You say after a while, having no clue where he was headed to.

“You’ll see.” Is all he says and keeps on walking out of the Castle.

The mid-June summer night feels nice, warm wind blowing across your face and making Calum’s now already in need of a new cut hair blow onto your forehead. You lay your cheek on his shoulder, closing your eyes just for a spare second enjoying the nice sensation of his warm skin and the sound of his breathing.

“Come on.” He pats your thigh after walking for a little while. “Off you go, peach.” You unwrap your legs from his waist and balance your hands onto his waist, trying to keep your feet steady on the ground.

Looking around, you see that you’re now at a pretty good distance from the Castle. He walked you over to a small hill from where you could see the big gardens and a little of the Quidditch field. He sat down on the grass, leaning his back against the big oak tree that’s shadowing above you. You glance back at him when you feel him tug at the end of your robe, motioning for you to sit next to him.

You do just that, sitting down carefully and leaning your back against the rough surface of the tree as well. It’s nice, just sitting here, watching the sun go down next to Calum. The wind is still blowing around you, making the branches of the tree shake and break the silence. Calum’s hand rests above your knee, running his finger in small circles across your jeans.

“Are you scared?” You ask after a while, voice quiet. He seems to contemplate the question for a while, but then just shrugs.

“Not really.” You nod biting your lip. ‘Are you?”

“Terrified.” You sigh, placing your hand above the one he had resting on your knee.

“I know I can’t ask you not to be.” He nods in acceptance and you huff.

“Don’t even try.” You shake your head.

“All I ask is that you believe in me.” He turns his head to look at you. “Know that I’m going to make it out alive, just for you.” You turn your head to the side, looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

“I do believe in you.” Your voice is quiet, a small smile covering your lips. “You know I do.”

“I love making sure.” His eye drops in a wink and you laugh breathily, running your fingertip over his knuckles. “You know I love you, right?” That makes you turn your gaze back on him.

“Of course I do.” You nod, biting down on your lip.

It had been almost two months but you still hadn’t said it back. It only got as far as to saying “me too” but never the actual words. It’s like they rested on your tongue, waiting to be spilled out, but being blocked by gritted teeth. He still liked just the fact that he could say it any time of the day. He didn’t need to hear those words coming from you, he just knew it. He knew he had you completely wrapped around his finger, he knew any word coming from his mouth could possibly destroy you forever. But he only used his power to be kind, to make you feel good, never to hurt you.

“I know you do too.” He sighed and you bit down on your lip at his acknowledgement. “I’m willing to wait.”

You moved closer, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your back and squeezing your side. The sun was almost down behind the clouds, the small lights placed around the Castle lighting up. You could see into distance owls flapping their wings and flying away with letters tied to their legs, everyone most likely sending letters to their loved ones to inform them about the big task happening tomorrow. But you weren’t worrying about that, not now at least. Calum always made sure to take every problem off your shoulders. And you loved him for that.

“As long as it takes, baby.” Was all he whispered before you closed your eyes.

Yelling could be heard all around, every single voice standing out. Each screaming their own thing, either positive or negative. The Slytherin side was quiet, all gossiping amongst themselves. All the other houses were excited, but Gryffindors were ecstatic, wearing their pins, waving small flags and jumping up and down.

You were sat in the front, anxiously waiting for Calum to appear, bouncing your foot up and down and running your fingers through your hair so much you were sure it was a total mess by now. Your best friends were seated on each side of you, glancing at you every now and then, worrying about you. You clearly had not slept the whole night, the only kind of sleep you got was the small nap you took into Calum’s arms last night against the oak tree, that is until he woke you up to take you back to your room.

The kiss you shared that night was long and full of passion, fingers gripping onto each other as hard as possible, not wanting to let go. You didn’t want to think about the fact that it could have been a goodbye kiss. It wasn’t, he promised you that much. And Calum always kept his promises.

“Y/N!” You heard Anabelle yell and shake your leg, and you immediately turn to see her pointing in a certain direction.

Sprinting out of your seat, you run into his chest, arms wrapping around his neck and your head rests onto his shoulder. He is dressed in the Gryffindor uniform he had been given, his curls brushed away from his face and dark red gloves cut at the fingers covering his hands.

“I’m so scared, Calum.” You whisper out of breath into his ear and he squeezes you tighter against him.

“So am I.” He chuckles lightly. “A little bit.”

“No matter what.” You lean back, looking him up and down to reassure yourself that he is here and he is okay. “If you know you’re not gonna make it or you’re hurt, you shoot red sparks, do you hear me?” You place your hands on his cheeks.

“Loud and clear.” He smiles, trying to ease the tension and you sigh, totally not in the mood for jokes.

“I’m serious, Calum. They’ll come and get you. If not, I’ll come and get you myself.” He laughs at that, bopping your nose.

“You? In that maze? Buttercup, you get lost in your own room.” Slapping his hand away from your face, you shake your head.

“Not now, Calum.” You drop your gaze and glance at your feet, your converse looking perfectly polished in comparison to his dirty ones.

“Hey.” He whispers softly, fingers resting under your chin and lifting it up so you would look into his eyes. “I love you.” He smiles softly.

“I know.” You lean your hands onto his chest, his cheek brushing against yours.

When you hear the voice of Professor McGonagall calling out to the champions you desperately search for his eyes. You both lean in at the same time, lips connection for the last time until he comes back. And you know he will come back to you.

Letting go of him was probably the hardest part. His fingers barely slipped from yours and you already felt cold all over again. Walking quickly towards your friends, you held hands tightly with each of them, biting onto your lip anxiously. This is it. He was gonna go in there and perhaps never come back. You shake away the dark thoughts, and keep on telling yourself everything is going to be okay. He will be okay. With a last look at the crowd, he spots you and smiles, before running off into the large maze and out of sight.

So now you wait. That’s all you can do. Just wait and hope it all turns out to be okay. Small lights of spells can be seen, the sound of bushes burning and sometimes yells. But none of which you could recognize as Calum’s. Everyone is anxiously waiting, bouncing their feet up and down, biting on their fingernails.

And then finally the first shot of red sparks came. You sat on the edge of your seat, watching as someone Dissaparated and Apparated back not even one minute later, the champion from Durmstrang Institute clutching tightly onto the professor, his leg looking pretty much dead as it just dragged behind him. You place your face in your palms and sigh, feeling bad for him but very relieved that Calum was still in there, hopefully okay.

Another half hour passes by and nothing happens. It was down to him and the girl from Beauxbaton Academy, and only one could win. After a while everyone grew impatient. Why was nothing happening? No one seemed to be shooting red sparks into the air, but also no one had grabbed the Cup yet.

“Come on, Hood.” You could hear Professor McGonagall’s voice say quietly from your spot so close to the judges.

Your lips were bleeding by this point from biting onto them so much, your foot constantly getting cramps from bouncing it so much. The wait seemed never ending, almost excruciating. And then it finally happened. Someone got the Cup.

Everyone stood up from their seats when the blue lights erupted from the middle of the maze, gasping and clutching their hands over their mouth. You were the first one up, leaning onto the railing in front of you, hands clutching the cold metal tightly, fingertips turning white. You knew that after someone grabbed the Cup, it would be used as a portal to take them out of the maze.

Demelza Nolt. She stood proudly in front of the maze, covered in scratches and dirt, but holding the big golden Cup in both hands. The Beauxbatons Academy erupts in cheers. But everyone else seems to be quiet. Where was Calum?

“Where is he?” Sybill murmurs behind you and you feel the world collapse around you.

And then finally, everyone spotted them. A light shower of red sparks shooting low in the air. Professor Slughorn shot out of his seat and quickly Dissaparated. You ran out of your seat, ignoring the screams of your friends behind you. Just as you had reached the big field in front of you, you saw them Appear back. And the image shocked you.

Calum was barely hanging onto the old man’s shoulders, his knees buckling underneath him and giving out after just about two steps. He collapses to the ground, broken wand falling from his fingers next to him. The harsh wind blows right into your face as you sprint past everyone and fall to the ground, your knees most likely going to feel the pain of that later.

“Calum.” You whisper, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as you get a closer look at him.

He looks a total mess. Clothes ripped at every edge, his head barely managing to stay into place as it keeps on trying to fall to the side. His eyes are almost shut, the only thing still keeping them open is the only strength he still has. His face is covered in scratches, so is the rest of his body, his lip busted and bloody. And there was just a lot of exactly that – blood. It was everywhere.

“Calum, oh my god, baby.” You shriek, cradling his head onto your lap. “Hey, hey.” You place your hands across his cheeks, shaking him back to reality. “Come on, stay with me.”

Time seemed to stay still around you, nobody was moving. And that annoyed you the most. Nobody wanted to move.

“Bloody hell, somebody help him!” You yell and look behind you at every single face. They are all looking at the two of you with their mouths agape.

“Y/N…” You hear a light whisper and turn your head around so quick you’re sure you were pretty close to snapping your neck.

“Hey, look at me Calum.” You sniffle, leaning down towards his face. “It’s all good, it’s all good, you’re going to be okay.” Your lips quiver, not even your own brain believing you.

“Y/N…” He whispers again, a small smile forming onto his bruised lips. “I promised.”

“I know you promised, fuck, I do Calum.” Your head drops to his chest and you let out an ugly cry, hanging onto whatever was left of him.

“I never…” He struggles to breathe and you try to shush him, but he wasn’t done speaking. ”-break a promise.” And after that his eyes close.

“No.” You whimper. “You never do.” You could hear the quick steps of people approaching you. “And I love you for that.” You press your cheek to his chest, hearing a distant and very faint beat. “I love you with all my heart.”

It took weeks, weeks of excruciating pain and ugly sobs. And then school was finally over. The Hospital Wing became the only place you knew. Nothing else seemed to matter. You were glued to those white beds, never getting off your chair. He was going to be okay. Just like he had promised.

He came out with just a broken arm, a twisted ankle and a slight concussion, thank heavens. It was bad, but not bad enough to the point of no return. And now that July had finally made an appearance, it was time to go home.

You had never seen Calum cry before. And seeing him do exactly that multiple times in the past couple of weeks sent sharp waves of pain straight to your chest. But they couldn’t compare to the pain he was in. The first conscious night was the worst one though. He had woken up two days later, confused and lost. All he knew was that you were there and you weren’t leaving, and that’s all that mattered. And then when Madam Pomfrey finally touched him for the first time when he was awake, he could not stop the loud screams coming out of his mouth.

They were brutal and full of pain and just plain ugly. They made your ears bleed and your eyes spill with rivers of tears, but you knew that he was going to get better. And in order to do so, he needed to suffer through the healing process. But in the end, he did get better. And now you could finally go home.

Every night when Madam Pomfrey would send you on your way back to your house, you would sneak out and into the Hospital Wing, squeezing into the small white bed next to Calum, kissing all of his pain away throughout the night.

“So.” You hear the faint sound of his voice say from next to you. “I guess next year is your turn.”

Everybody was slowly boarding the train, waving goodbye to Hagrid whom, as always, was waiting by the Hogwarts Express to give hugs and some cookies. You had boarded your luggage, helping Calum with his since his hand was still wrapped up, a bandage hanging around his neck and holding the broken arm into place. And after that you decided you would sit outside until you had to leave.

“Turn for what?” You twist your head to look at him and smile softly.

“Well, I didn’t win the tournament, so you’ll have to defend Hogwarts’ honor next year.” He grins, showing his beautiful smile and you laugh.

“I’m pretty sure there will be no next time.” You shake your head. “McGonagall is shutting this Tournament down. For good this time.”

“I guess that would be a smart decision.” He nods in agreement.

You look back at everyone boarding the train, the kids from the first year seeming to be the saddest about going home, all of them clutching their luggage and owl cages tight and looking behind at the big Castle in disappointment. Nobody wants to leave Hogwarts, that is just the way it is. It’s a home for all.

“Will you visit me this summer?” He asks, bumping his hip into yours, but then regretting the idea and wincing in pain.

“I don’t know.” You answer thinking. “My parents and I are taking a family trip to Paris. We might be there for a few weeks.” He parts his lips, seeming disappointed. “Don’t worry, I’ll call you as soon as I get back. And send you lots of cards.” He smiles at that. “You could come looking for me afterwards.” He nods quickly, clearly liking this plan.

“We could go to that ice cream shop in Brighton you have gushed about so much.” He suggests and you gasp, excited just at the thought of that idea.

After that you just sit in silence, looking at the small clouds that had formed above you. Even in the middle of summer, rain just didn’t seem to want to leave you. But rain was not so bad, it reminded you of quiet afternoons in the library and nights spent with Calum, sharing chaste kisses while it poured outside, the sound echoing all around. Rain could be something truly beautiful.

“You know I love you, right?” He says, placing the uninjured arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer into his side.

“I love you too.” You say softly, a smile taking over your face.

Ever since that night, that horrible night in which you had almost lost Calum, you realized it wasn’t the fear of losing him that was holding you back from saying those words. It was the fear of losing your control and letting this love inside of you free. But now, you couldn’t stop saying it. You whispered it to him every single day, you said it in the morning, at night, you even mumbled it in your sleep. And it didn’t sound empty and foreign on your lips anymore. It tasted sweet like honey and felt as soft as Calum’s lips.

“So now what?” He sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and looking ahead of him into distance.

Almost everyone was at this point on the train. They were eager to go home. You saw all the carriages with Thestrals leave and the only people left were you, Calum and well, Hagrid. You looked back at the Castle and thought about what you had accomplished this year. Pretty good grades from spending all that time in the library, a nice organizing experience with the Yule Ball committee, but most importantly, falling madly in love. And that was all that mattered.

Looking up at him, you smile and lean up to peck his cheek, before grabbing his hand and sighing, relieved to finally be able to say these words.

“Now we go home.”

A/N: oh boy this has been a wild ride, hasn’t it? now I’m emotional. if you wish to see like an extra blurb or something, I might have something in mind so let me know :)

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos smut #5sos fluff #calum hood #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood smut #calum hood fluff #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #hogwarts #Harry Potter #hogwarts!5sos #gryffindor!calum

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crypticcravings · 7 years

Text

There’s Something in Your Eyes

I'm going to kind of combine prompts for this one, and that may be cheating a bit, but I like this enough to submit it for both. First and foremost, this is a Harry Potter AU (Day 13), and I have combined it a bit with Day 17, Prom Night. Of course, the closest thing to a "prom" in the Harry Potter universe would be the Yule Ball! So this will be a two-shot, with part one being posted today, and part two posted on the 17th. I hope you enjoy!

This year, the Triwizard Tournament is being held at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, where Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been selected as Champion. She is not afraid of most of the challenges that await her. Except one. Fantastic beasts? No problem. Tests of wit? She's got them in the bag. Asking her crush to the Yule Ball? That's a different story entirely…

Named for Ajab Si from Om Shanti Om.

Also on AO3

Alya placed a hand on a vibrating Marinette's shoulder. She had been anxious all day, and couldn't seem to get ahold of herself. "You can do this, girl! Just believe in yourself!"

"I don't know, Alya, he's already turned three girls down today," Marinette lamented. "What makes you think he'll agree to go with me?"

"He can't possibly turn down the school champion, though! He didn't even know any of those other girls. They only recognize him from fashion magazines. You're his friend! Plus, I've always thought he's had a soft spot for you."

Marinette's face flamed up. She had a point. The other girls weren't even Beauxbatons students. "A-anyway, what do I even say to him?"

Alya wrapped her arm all the way around Marinette's neck and waved her wand in a circle. "You just go up to him and say everything exactly as we practiced. You can do it!"

Marinette took a deep breath, "Okay, I can do this."

It was the 21st Triwizard tournament since it's revival, and this year the tournament was being held at their school. Marinette had the great honor of being the Beauxbatons champion for the year, and while the challenges didn't normally scare her, there was one thing that left her terrified: asking Adrien Agreste to the Yule Ball.

"Alright, here's your chance!" Alya put both hands on her shoulders. "Go for it, Marinette!"

As Adrien walked by the corridor with Nino, Alya shoved Marinette directly in front of him. No one would have guessed that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a Tournament Champion, capable of taming wild beasts and life-threatening battles with the way she tripped and flailed her arms as she stumbled out in front of her crush and his best friend. Her textbooks spilled out of her arms, and her holly wood wand slipped out of her hand. The only thing stopping her from tumbling on the ground along with them was a strong arm wrapping around her waist as she flailed.

"Are you alright," Adrien asked, bringing Marinette upright.

"You're so fine--I mean I'm fine! Everything's great! I just fell for--I mean over you--I mean, I just tripped a little bit." Marinette groaned internally at her inability to speak a coherent sentence in front of this boy and cursed Alya for forcing her to follow through with this plan.

As usual, if Adrien noticed her nonsensical babble, he chose to ignore it. "Well, I'm glad you're okay."

Both Adrien and Marinette bent down together to retrieve her dropped materials. Nino handed her the nearly trampled wand and Adrien helped her back to her feet. "Thank you."

"No problem." Adrien shot her one of his million dollar smiles, and Marinette had to focus on holding onto her materials this time. "See you later, Marinette."

He and Nino started to walk once again, and Marinette knew this was now or never. She had to do it. She was going to do it. "Wait, Adrien!"

He turned back to look at her. "What's up?"

"Um…"Marinette took a breath to steady herself. She could do this. Before she could stutter, doubt, or second guess herself, she forced the words out of her mouth with as much strength and confidence as she could muster. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Marinette's heart pounded in her chest. Part of her wanted to turn and run from the sheer embarrassment of actually asking her crush to the ball, but she stood her ground. She was a Champion, after all. She could face dragons and giant spiders. She could deal with this.

By some miracle, Adrien smiled. Not one of his fake model smiles that he showed the girls who fawned over him every day, or that he wore on the cover of magazines, but a real, genuine smile that she only saw when he was laughing at one of his own jokes, or when Nino was telling him about his most recent date with Alya. "I'd love to go with you, Marinette!"

"Really?"

"Of course! It'll be fun!"

Behind Adrien, Nino, ever the wingman, gave Marinette two thumbs up. She could hear the faint shutter of Alya's cell camera.

"Yes! Great! So…um…I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, see you later!" Adrien gave her a small wave before turning with Nino to continue on their way.

Marinette waved back at him, a dreamy smile painted across her face. He'd said yes! He was going to the ball with her! She couldn't believe this.

"…ette! Earth to Marinette!" Alya waved her hand in front of Marinette's face.

"I think my legs went numb," Marinette whispered. "I don't think I can make it to class today."

Alya chuckled. "I guess I'll just have to carry you, then."

Alya looped her arm through Marinette's and tugged her towards the classroom. Marinette could have sworn that she floated the entire way there.

"So, are you psyched for your date with Marinette?"

Adrien gave Nino a puzzled look. "Date?"

Nino grinned, resting his headphones around his neck. "You know, your date. At the Yule Ball."

Adrien shook his head. "It's not a date, Nino."

He rolled his eyes. "It's totally a date, bro. I've seen the way you look at her. Throw in some low lighting and some sweet romantic tunes, and you're in business."

Adrien's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about? How do I look at her?"

"Dude, its like she's the sun and your whole world revolves around her. How can I not notice? How can you not notice?"

Adrien shook his head as class began. Sure, Marinette was awesome. She was brave, smart, quick on her feet, strong, and beautiful, but he didn't look at her like that, did he?

News spread to the rest of the school within the next two days, thanks to coverage by the school news paper, and no thanks to Alya for providing pictures.

Marinette had quickly gotten used to being scrutinized since entering the tournament, but she didn't appreciate having her love life projected about the school, especially when she hadn't even established that she had a love life yet.

"Why did you give them that photo, Alya?" Marinette pushed the newspaper away from her and flopped forward on the table.

"The world deserves to know that my girl is making progress. Everyone already knows you two are made for each other. Just had to make it official."

Marinette groaned. She couldn't help feeling a little proud of the public announcement, even through her embarrassment. She wasn't sure yet what Adrien thought of the article, but she would deal with that if it came up.

"So are you going to be making your dress?"

Marinette turned to face her best friend and grinned. "I started it weeks ago."

"Dang girl, you didn’t even have a date yet."

"I would have to go either way," Marinette shrugged. "Plus, I thought I'd need more time. Sewing with magic is way faster than using my grandmother's machine."

"Tell me about it. I know I've said it before, but can you imagine what my parents would say if they saw some of this stuff? If my dad could see some of the animals you've battled, he would flip out."

Alya, being muggle born, was always finding something new to marvel over. It was refreshing for Marinette. Being half-human, she'd grown up in a blended household filled with both human and wizard technology, so it was fun to see someone who had access to so much technology in the human world obsessing over technology and magic that had existed for hundreds of years.

"So, how's it looking? The dress I mean."

Marinette giggled. "It's a surprise.

Adrien, of course, heard about the newspaper article fairly quickly. He generally shrugged it off, not really bothering to even read it. He'd heard what he needed to know from Nino, after all. And Chloe, of course, had her fair share to say about it. He tried to ignore her as much as possible for his own sanity.

He gathered that Alya had submitted the pictures and been the primary source for the article. Nino was eating it up, of course, insisting that it was equivalent of announcing his and Marinette's relationship.

Nino considered Adrien to be deeply in denial, not out of distaste for Marinette, but simply because he was too dense to realize his own feelings. He was a pure soul, thoroughly innocent to the point of not wholly understanding himself.

Nino knew him well, though. He saw the way he lit up when Marinette was around, and how she captured his attention just by being in the same room. He wanted his boy to be happy, and Marinette was able to do that for him.

It was time to talk to Alya about developing a plan.

Part 2

#Adrinette Month Day 13 #AdrinetteMonthDay13 #Adrinette #Harry Potter AU #Adrien #adrien agreste #marinette #Marinette dupain Cheng #Marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #Cryptic Fic

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fandom-imagines-stories · 7 years

Text

Always You Three- Year One

Pairing: Fred Weasley/Oc

Warnings: None

Word Count:2645

Summery: Andromeda Malfoy was the pride of her family, that is, until she was sorted into Gryffindor. Who better than Fred and George Weasley to help her navigate five years of being shunned by her father? But when the Triwizard Tournament arrives, her father devises a plan and Andy is thrown into a world of deadly challenges, friendships becoming something more and dark family secrets.

“Hufflepuff!” The sorting hat shouted and the table decorated with yellow and black erupted with applause.

“Andromeda Malfoy.” Professor McGonagall called out my name and I straightened my robes. As I strode confidently up the steps, I could hear people scoffing and muttering amongst themselves. Everyone knew which house I was going to be in. Every person in my family had been in Slytherin during their years at Hogwarts, except for one, but no one ever talked about him.

I sat down on the stool and the professor placed the hat on my head. Before it even touched a single black hair on my head, it seemed to know its answer.

“Sl-” It silenced itself. “Now wait just a moment.” I swallowed. What did it mean wait? “You long to impress your family, but there is a certain spark within you that I simply cannot ignore.” These words were only heard by me for the tables were still alive with anticipation and chatter. “Indeed, you would thrive in Slytherin, but even now, as you hope to live up to your family’s name, you know that you have always been different. But where to place you? You are quick witted and you excel in studies, but you are also loyal, no matter what your family’s past. I can tell that you will stand up for what you believe is right, and though you are afraid, you will even stand against those you love, which is a great act of courage.”

“Get on with it!” A student shouted receiving a fit of giggles, but a cold glare from McGonagall.

“Gryffindor!” The hat’s voice rang through the hall and the room went silent. My heart plummeted. There must be some mistake. I am Andromeda Malfoy, a well raised pure blood. I was born to be a Slytherin. McGonagall, seeming shocked herself, ushered me off the stool and called up the next first year. No one cheered as I cautiously walked to the Gryffindor table. The only sound was the light clapping from the head table.I lifted my eyes from the ground and saw Headmaster Dumbledore smiling at me, his gaze wise, yet curious. When I found a seat, the other students gave me a look and quickly scooted away. I held my head up, pretending I didn’t need their approval.

Later that night, I read a letter from my mom, realizing that she would want to know what house I got into even though she shouldn’t have to ask. I should have been sitting in the Slytherin common room, snickering with other Pure Bloods. Instead, I sat sniveling in front of the fire while everyone else was asleep. Or I had thought they were all asleep.

“Crying on the first day?” Exclaimed a voice.

“Bad sign.” Responded another. I turned to see a red headed boy sitting next to me.

“Definitely.” I glanced to my other side, gasping as I found the same boy. They both laughed.

“Twins.” I grumbled. I looked over both of them. “Ginger, musty old robes: you two must be Weasleys.”

“Snobbish.” One remarked.

“Robes in pristine condition.” The other noted. “Aha! You must be a Malfoy.”

“My father told me to stay away from your sort.” I said in a tone that made me realize why they thought I was snobbish.

“Your family and our family don’t get along.” The boy on my right explained. “I’m Fred by the way. That’s George.”

“I’m Andromeda.” I announced proudly, wiping away the wetness on my cheeks. Fred snickered. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just a long, Malfoyish name.”

“Well…” I thought for a moment and remembered the name Draco used to call me when he was young and couldn’t pronounce my name. “How about Andy?”

“I like it.” The twins nodded in agreement.

“Okay Andy,” George started, his expression softening. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh… I just- I have to tell my parents I got sorted into Gryffindor.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Fred wondered.

“Every member of my family was sorted into Slytherin except for one, and he’s in Azkaban.”

“Well if it makes you feel better, almost everyone in your family is in Azkaban.” George joke and Fred kicked him. “Ow! What was that for?” I giggled.

“What are you two doing out here anyway. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“George and I like to think we’re nocturnal.” Fred grinned.

“Pranks are fun during the day, but it’s at night when the real fun happens.” George added, rubbing his shin.

“We should probably get to bed.” I glanced toward the clock.

“See you tomorrow?” Fred asked.

“I won’t tell my parents if you don’t tell yours.” I grinned mischievously. They both smiled and answered at the same time.

“Deal.”

* * *

The chaos that ensued in the next few weeks was more than I had expected when I became friends with the twins, but it was just as perfect as I had hoped. They always made me laugh, trying especially hard to cheer me up when my mother said that my father might be ‘to busy’ to write me at school. Even my younger brother Draco stopped writing me letters. At first I was devastated, but the twins often encouraged me that I was brave in writing them myself that I was in Gryffindor and they said that if my family couldn’t see how wonderful I was then it was their loss. This didn’t completely make me feel better, but it did help.

Their first big plan for the year, was to break into the horribly stiff Mr. Filch’s office and see what he had collected from students over the years. I, of course, was skeptical, knowing that if we got caught, everyone would know that we were friends. But they insisted that I come with them, it would be like some kind of initiation into their two-member club.

We started after the sun had gone down and everyone, including the twin’s overly pompous brother Percy, had gone to sleep. Lee Jordan, Fred and George’s other best friend, also came along, more than willing to be the distraction to get Filch away of his office.

“So here’s the plan,” Fred whispered, laying out a small map they had drawn. “Lee will go to the library, and open the screaming book in the restricted section.”

“How do you know that there’s a screaming book in the restricted section?” I wondered. “Don’t you need a teacher’s note to get in?” I almost said; “Don’t be dense. You can’t get into the restricted section without a teacher’s permission. And you couldn’t possibly have gotten that.” But then I remembered that I was trying not to be a total prat now a days.

“Ah, young, innocent Andy, you have so much to learn.” George sighed playfully.

“We broke in on the second night.” Fred answered. “Looked around a bit- found some pretty interesting things.”

“I’ll go and make a ruckus, making sure Filch will be one the other side of the castle when you get in his office.” Lee chimed.

“While Filch is in the library, we’ll get to his office from this corridor.” George pointed to a hallway on the map. “The three of us will look around and take anything worth taking.”

The four of us snuck out of the common room and down the hall, Lee going in the opposite direction.

“Don’t forget to get out of there before you can get caught, or you’ll get detention for a week.” George warned.

“I know. I’ll see you guys back in the common room.” Lee grinned before continuing toward the library. Fred, George, and I made our way around the castle, checking every corner in case Filch or another teacher was patrolling. Soon, we found Filch’s office, but halted at the sound of an angry meow.

“Mrs. Norris!” I exclaimed in a whisper. She scurried off. “I hate that cat.”

“We better hurry before she brings Filch back.” Fred turned to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. I sighed and pointed my wand at the lock.

“Alohomora.” The lock clicked and opened. The office was cluttered, despite Filch being a neat-freak. A large trunk sat behind the desk, with a large lock on the front. I tried the spell again, but nothing happened.

“There must be an enchantment on it.” I groaned, defeated. “We better get back to the common room.”

“Or….” Fred’s eyes sparkled and I knew he was going to say something I would regret. “We could wait for Filch to get back and get the key.”

“Are you crazy?” I almost shouted. “If Filch comes back, they’ll send a letter to our parents, and I can’t get in trouble.”

“If you want to go back, go ahead. But there’s gotta be some good stuff in here if he had it enchanted.” I thought for a moment, and for some reason, my curious side over powered my logical.

“Fine, we’ll wait.”

“Fred, go be look out, I’ll find somewhere for us to hide, and Andy look around and see if there’s a slight chance he left the key in here.” George began to search the room for any dark corners or tables to hide under. I rummaged through the desk until I came across a large piece of blank parchment.

“Hey George… why would Filch keep an old piece of paper?” I questioned.

“I don’t know, but that looks like a map.”

“A map with nothing on it?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Or a map that can only be revealed with magic.” He tapped his wand to the paper.

“Mr. Prongs would like to advise amateurs like the Weasley twins and especially a Malfoy to leave the pranks and raiding to the professionals.” I read out loud. “It’s just some stupid paper made to insult people.”

“No, it’s a map. Whoever this Prongs was must have put a spell on it.” George concluded. “There must be a password or something.” Fred peaked his head in the door.

“You two better hurry up. I can hear footsteps.”

“We’ll just have to settle with this.” I put the paper in my robe pocket and pulled George behind me.

“But we didn’t open the chest.” He whined.

“We’ll have plenty to do while we try to figure out how to use the map, now let’s go!” Fred ran behind us as soon as we could hear Filch’s shouts. We ran through the dark halls and up the moving staircases until we lost the strict caretaker. We found the fat lady’s portrait and said the password, and despite her sleepy protests she let us through.

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.” I took the paper out of my pocket and handed it to them.

“You’re not going to help figure out the password?” Fred looked at me with his big brown eyes and pouted.

“Did you guys find anything?” Lee asked sleepily from the couch.

“The trunk was locked and Mrs. Norris found Filch before we could get it open.” Fred lied.

“That’s too bad. I’ll be in bed if any of you need me.” Lee shuffled upstairs and I began to follow him.

“Why didn’t you tell him about the map?” I wondered.

“It’ll be our secret.” Fred smirked. I smiled and went up the stairs and dreamed of mischievous red heads.

That school year I learned how to levitate a feather and how to make a cure for boils, but none of that compared to what I learned from Fred and George. They taught me that some rules are meant to be broken and that being a Pure Blood wasn’t really anything to be proud of. Instead, I took pride in getting the best score of my class in potions. Professor Snape even seemed to like me.

During the year, about a month after we found the mysterious map, Fred and George were taking guesses of the password, and the map seemed to be helping them figure it out by lighting up whenever they were getting closer to the answer, they used the right set of words and the Marauder’s Map revealed itself, showing the entire grounds of Hogwarts including secret passage ways that we often used to get around. It also showed everyone in Hogwarts, with their names and a pair of footprints that moved as the person moved. It helped us know where Filch was and which route to take to avoid him. With the map’s help, we only ever got caught twice throughout the school year. Like the time we enchanted some of Professor McGonagall’s books to soar across the room and land on the Slytherins. We got two weeks of detention, but luckily she didn’t write to my parents.

But as the year came to an end, I realized that I would be going home to a family that was disgusted by me. As the train moved forward through the vast valleys, Fred and George joked around with Lee, and I would fake a smile whenever they talked to me, trying to hide the tears brimming my eyes.

“Hey,” Fred tilted his head so he could see my face, “It’s going to be okay. George and I will write every week.” I shook my head.

“We can’t write.” I said sadly. “ It’s too much of a risk, someone will read them.”

“Well I can’t go the entire holiday without talking to you. We’ll just… come up with code names.” Fred got out a piece of paper and began to brainstorm. “We can be just like the Marauders.” We all thought for a moment.

“Well it has to do with animals if we are going to be our own Marauders.” I pointed out.

“What about bird brain over here.” George pointed at Fred and Fred threw the quill at him.

“Well, what about Little Red for our little fox?” Fred suggested, looking at me.

“Where’d you get fox?” I wondered.

“You’re sneaky.” George noted. “Remember the time when you snuck into Hogsmeade right under Professor McGonagall's nose?”

“And you’re one of the wittiest people I know.” Fred added. “Besides the two of us, of course.” I punched his shoulder.

“So it’s decided. Little Red it is.” George concluded, writing down the name next to mine.

“Now what about you two cackling hyenas?” I joked.

“Hyena,” Fred mused, “I like that. How about-” The train jerked to a stop.

“Hold that thought,” I said, standing up. “I should get out of here before Percy shows up.”

“What about our names?” They asked at the same time.

“You’ll think of something.” I gave them a smile and hurried out of the compartment. I pushed passed as I exited the train and made it onto the platform. I searched through the crowd of people, looking for familiar heads of light blonde hair.

“M-miss Andromeda?” A small voice said from behind me. I turned to find Dobby, our house elf, standing timidly between a group of students.

“Dobby?” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Where’s mom and dad?”

“Y-your father sent me to pick you up miss.” I froze.

“H-he what?” I stuttered. I hoped at least after an entire school year, my father would want to see me when I got back.

“He said he had business at the ministry to attend to.” Dobby seemed to notice the tears. “You’re mother s-said she wanted nothing more than to see you when you got back, but you’re father insisted she go with him.” I sniffed and nodded.

“Of course. He must be extremely-” My voice cracked and I held back a sob. Dobby reached up and took my hand.

“Let’s get you home miss.” He said sadly. I wiped the tears off my cheeks and held my head up high… just like a Malfoy.

#fred weasley #the twins #originalcharacter #malfoy #harry potter #hogwarts #george weasley

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