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#this was supposed to be a portrait of harry but then i got carried away
inpraizeof · 1 year
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will i see you again?
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bill weasley x reader
synopsis: a one night stand in egypt has him reeling about what could’ve been. bill returns home to see his possibilities right in front of him
a/n: i wanted more bill x reader and there barely is any so i had to take matters into my own hands
part two
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
you stared at the bump that was protruding from under your dress. summer was all year round in egypt, but as you got bigger, your dresses got tighter and shorter, and you knew that it was time to return home and face the undying music.
a consequence of a night you knew you would never forget. he was lucky, you thought, he would never have to know your world, carry your burdens.
only thing you regretted was he would be missing out on a child’s life. his child’s life. but there was also the possibility that he would’ve never given a damn to begin with.
your lips connected and all you could taste was the bitterness of his rum that he had chugged before letting you drag him away from the tantalizing bar maids. his hand mushed into your hair, and kissed you roughly. he was all teeth, and you felt your lip in between his. it made you feel the thrill of it all as his hands roamed your body. it was dark, people were dancing around you and you could hardly feel anything but him until you realized what this was going to lead to. you were anything but someone to fuck on the dance floor like this.
you grabbed the man and pulled him close as you ducked the arms of dancers and dashed towards the bathroom. you threw the door open, seeing a woman washing her hands. it was ill lit, a neon pink decal above the mirror was your only light as you kicked the girl out with a mere gaze.
you pulled the man back onto you before slamming the door shut with the weight of his body. he moaned as you kissed him, a hand reaching for the lock, you turned it and let yourself roam his body.
he was attractive, a redhead, which was new for you but you’d try anytbing once. he had a scar on his face that made you question everything but he was a great kisser, and that was all it seemed to matter in the moment.
he didn’t bother asking your name, and nor did you, all you knew him by was- “sir!” you screamed as he fucked you against the door. you were gripping his shoulder as he was holding you. you threw your head back and the thumping got louder. he was frantically fucking you, and you felt yourself tense up as you came, moaning loudly as you shook. you felt cum trail down your leg and realized he too had came.
“fuck.” you muttered as he set you down.
the house was the same. old, creaky, dusty, hateful and wretched. but it was home. and as you set your bags down, really taking it all back in, the familiar house elf from your childhood came to greet you.
“mistress y/n.” kreacher gazed at you with squinted eyes, taking in your pregnant self, “how was your trip.” it was more of a statement rather than a question so you ignored him as he stalked away with your bags.
your father was supposed to be here, but as you gazed at the clock, you realized that you had arrived earlier than you had expected. so you grabbed your remaining bag and hauled it up the steps, following kreacher to your old room, you passed the portrait of your grandmother and the silence was suddenly filled with a shriek of disdain.
“don’t tell me you got yourself impregnated unwed! a disgrace this great house has been brought, such a disgrace, like your father!” walburga shouted, and you sneered, “i missed you too, grandmother.”
as you looked at your room, everything left in its place as the night you had left it, you realized with a sinking feeling that you weren’t a teenager anymore.
you let a hand trace down your belly, you were a mother now.
as you toured your old belongings, you came across the pictures that you had pinned poorly to your budoir, pictures of you with harry and your father, a makeshift family, you had always said. another with your old friends, cedric before he passed and cho.
a knock at the door brought you out of your thoughts and you pulled your feelings back and turned to see your father at the doorway.
you sniffled, wiping your teary eyes, “sorry, it’s the hormones.” you excused and embraced sirius. sirius chuckled warmly, “don’t worry about it, kid. im just glad your home.”
you pulled back and sirius looked down at your belly, “you too.” he talked to the baby and you laughed.
sirius grabbed your arm and pulled you into the hallway, “molly has been preparing a dinner for your return at her home.” he looked at you, “i understand if you don’t want to attend, but harry will be there.”
and now you were apparating to the burrow, a long heavy coat over you as you had failed to realize too late that no one knew of your surprise.
as you opened the door to the weasley home, nothing but the warm scent of cinnamon and honey filled your nose as you walked in. shouts and banter could be heard from somewhere in the house and all eyes were on you suddenly.
molly was practically jumping up and down as she ran to hug you. as she hugged you, you realized that your belly was bumping against her, but molly didn’t seem to notice in her joy. you had always been like a second daughter to her, coming around so often after harry had set your father free.
“i’m so happy you’re back, my darling girl!” molly kissed your forehead and she laughed joyfully. she greeted sirius with a smile, “i just know your father is so happy that you’re home, he wouldn’t stop talking about it when you wrote that you would!” you turned to your father who was now a slight shade of pink.
before you could say anything else, harry, hermione and ron all ran up to you. harry was the first to hug you, and unlike molly, he was the first to notice you were different. harry frowned as he pulled back and you exhaled. you tugged the coat off reluctantly and your bump was now in full view.
the three looked down at you with shock and you smiled sheepishly, “surprise?”
hermione didn’t care as she hugged you, screaming joyfully that she was going to be aunt.
harry and sirius exchanged a series of looks and all ron could do was stare.
“blimey, y/n, but you certainly put some weight on abroad.” he hid his shock and hermione pulled away from you with a roll of her eyes, “she’s not fat, she’s pregnant, ronald!”
you chuckled, “it’s alright. trust me i thought i was getting fat too.”
molly was busying herself in preparing the dinner so she was the last to notice your bump. yet still the loudest in her congratulations.
it seemed that everyone, your father, harry, hermione and the rest of the weasley family all made the pointed question not to ask about the father.
wouldn’t be the first time someone from the noble house of black would be a single parent. sirius was with you, and that earned you some interesting nicknames growing up.
but you and your father liked to joke that you were like zeus and athena. a mere thought turned into a child, you didn’t need a mother if you had your father.
but after he was put away, you found the much needed influence of a girl in tonks, who had done the great deed of taking you in, even if she was barely an adult herself.
and after your father had returned during your fourth year, you spent time with him until you realized that the world of war had no place for you, and you had saved yourself the rest of the despair after cedric died.
“why didn’t anyone wake me for dinner?” a voice could be heard calling down the steps. you turned to molly who smiled, “bill is home from egypt. i was assuming he was tired after traveling all day, so i let him sleep.” she mentioned and you nodded.
out of all the weasley siblings, you had only met ron, the twins, ginny and the insufferable percy. the two eldest weasley brothers had been a total mystery to you, something out of legend as you hadn’t even seen pictures.
“hurry down now, bill.” molly called out, and as he finally rounded the corner towards the table, you realized with a wave of nausea who it was.
and seemingly, he did too.
bill hadn’t bothered to properly greet his family when he came home. it would all be in due time, he excused, and made his way to his bedroom where he would continue to wallow in the sorrow.
it had been just a few months since that night but it was like she had been a siren, a woman untouchable that he only desired more of. she consumed his thoughts, his dreams, even his nightmares.
bill had to leave egypt to escape her, or at least the thought of her. but back home, it seemed to intensify even more.
all he could remember were her piercing eyes, a sight he would never forget.
as he heard clamor downstairs bill sat up and stretched. he saw fred exiting the room and he stopped him, “what’s going on?”
fred shrugged, “mum said sirius and his daughter were coming over for dinner.” bill waved a hand as his brother left and threw himself into the pillows with a yawn.
he tried to make himself comfortable but the smell of the food had snaked its way up to his room, and now all he could feel was the pain of his empty stomach.
so with a sigh, bill pulled himself together and set down to greet his family and the guests.
you gulped as the silence seemed to drag on.
“bill?” you asked and he nodded. the same man from the nightclub was standing in front of you. in a pair of sweats, ruffled hair and a cheap hoodie, he was standing there.
same facial scar, same hanging earring. the father of your child was bill weasley.
bill was astounded. hearing his name from your lips had him flown back into a muddle of daydreams. he had imagined this moment before. meeting tou again, and professing his love to you.
but the shock of seeing you with his own two eyes for the second time was enough to send him back into a slumber.
you had stood up and he had noticed it. a bulging piece of evidence from under your dress, bills mind went to all the possibilities.
what if the baby is mine? was she pregnant during and i had missed it? have i gone so crazy that i’m imagining her face on other bodies?
“between the looks of you two, i’m assuming you two know each other?” fred let out a whistle and you and bill looked at each other before answering at the same time.
“yes.”
“no.” you echoed.
fred and george both cringed and suddenly things became awkward. molly caught their hint and clapped a hand, “dinner will resume in twenty minutes. let’s all have tea in the living room!”
your father looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you shrugged slightly as he was dragged off.
bill went outside, and a cigarette appeared in his hand. he was nervous, seeing you was too much. seeing you pregnant was coma worthy, and how he was still standing was an achievement.
you followed him and stood away slightly as you realized he was smoking.
silence once again, and you cleared your throat as you moved a hand down your belly, “it’s yours.”
“what?” bill was too busy trying to focus on his cigarette and missed your comment.
you repeated, “the baby. it’s yours.”
bill looked at your belly and back at you, “i know it’s a shock. trust me, this wasn’t in my plans. but we didn’t even know each others names and i-“
bill was too busy gazing at your belly than to listen to your rant, “may i?” he held out a hand, and you stopped mid sentence to grab his hand. a reluctant step forward, you set his hand on your belly, “it’s too early to feel anything but-“
bill gasped, there it was. a small kick just on his hand. you had felt it too, and your shock was mutal.
bill tossed his cigarette and smiled as both hands grabbed your belly, “wow.” he whispered.
you looked at bill, “bill,”
bill looked at you, “y/n.”
you raised an eyebrow and bill laughed, “how could i forget the name of sirius black’s rebellious daughter who ran off into the night?”
“you knew it was me?”
bill shook his head, “i never saw a picture, i just knew of you.”
you scoffed, “i guess i could say the same thing.”
bill pulled back his hands and was now crossing them, “i understand why you kept this to yourself. a million chances and it wouldn’t be this lucky.”
you nodded, “if you don’t want to be involved that’s fine. wouldn’t be the first time i do something alone.” you looked down at your belly and held it before looking at the sun setting just overhead.
bill held out a hand, “i want to be. i want to be a father. and i want to be with you.” he was pink, a shade of embarrassment as he realized what he had said.
“really?”
bill nodded, “it might sound incredibly odd but- i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. i left egypt, quit my job because you were haunting me. knowing this, knowing how perfect this turned out to be makes me realize one thing.”
you raised an eyebrow, “what is it?”
bill smiled, “that you were true to your word.”
as zippers were heard being zipped, you fixed your hair. the panting of the man was heard quietly as he looked at you once more, “will i see you again?” words slurred just so slightly that you laughed.
“i hope that for your sake, you do.” you left him right after that, leaving the man to fade into the darkness just as the blasting music met your ears.
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elliemarchetti · 2 years
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The Road to a Perfect Summer
Just a quick one-shot for Fremione’s Fabulous Summer Bingo in which I tried to cover every square of the card. Enjoy!
Words: 1.8K
Rating: Teen and Up I suppose?
TW: if mentioning sex is triggering for you then don’t read this, but I swear it’s just a couple mentions and nothing too specific. Teenagers crazy hormones, that’s all. 
After Peeves revealed to Dumbledore it was Sirius Black who scarred the Fat Lady’s portrait, all the Gryffindors were sent back to the Great Hall, where within ten minutes they were joined by the rest of the students, all equally confused.
“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here.”
Although they were in different places in the room, Hermione and Fred’s eyes met with astonishing speed. They had no reason to search for each other, there was absolutely nothing between them, yet when Dumbledore conjured hundreds of purple sleeping bags, the twins sneaked up to the corner occupied by her, their brother and Harry.
“Do you think he’s still in the castle?” George whispered, anxiously.
“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” said Fred.
"Don't you think it's strange that he chose to do it on Halloween?" Hermione asked, as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. “The one night we weren’t in the tower…”
“He must’ve lost track of time, being on the run,” said Ron. “Otherwise, he’d have come bursting in here.”
Hermione shuddered, and Fred moved imperceptibly closer.
“The true question is how did he get in,” observed George.
“Maybe he knows how to Apparate,” said a Ravenclaw a few feet away.
“Or he disguised himself,” ventured Lee Jordan, lying right next to George.
“He could’ve flown in,” suggested Ron, but Hermione knew none of those options were valid, not with Hogwarts' defences preventing Apparition and the Dementors patrolling outside the walls. As Percy shouted for silence, the candles went out all at once, the only light now coming from the silvery ghosts and the enchanted ceiling, mirroring the sky outside. Only much later, when everyone was already sound asleep, Fred saw a single shooting star right above his head. He wished there could be more nights like this, where Hermione Granger, even if only in her sleep, sought for his hand, unaware the opportunity would soon present again. They were in the infirmary, and although Madam Pomfrey reassured them Harry would wake up after the bad fall caused by the Dementors invading the Quidditch field, it hadn’t happened yet. Hermione cried silently for a while, tears mingling with the rain dripping from her curly hair, but finally exhaustion got the better of her and she fell asleep on his shoulder, their hands intertwined. No one wanted to wake her up, so when the Healer asked for everyone to leave, Fred carried her in the Common Room and slept at the sofa’s feet, just to be sure no one would bother her. He was kind of worried for the deep dark circles under her eyes and her overall ashy complexion, so different from the tan she had when she came back from France. In those months, Fred though a lot about the letter she wrote him over summer. To be totally honest, it was him who started the correspondence, sending her some innocent photos from Egypt. He said to himself he did it because he knew Ron wouldn’t adequately update her on the wonders they say, and he certainly wasn’t expecting an answer, but when Errol came back, all dishevelled for the long trip, with a letter addressed specifically to him,  his heart almost burst with joy. In the envelope, there was also a Muggle photo of Hermione, wearing a one-piece swimsuit, smiling happily after she climbed a particularly high reef.  Her face, shoulders and tights were a deep red, but she didn’t seem to care about the sunburn. That shot immediately became one of his most precious treasures, and se he watched it for the umpteenth time, he decided to ask her to spend a few days at the Barrow the next summer. Luckily, his father winning those tickets for the Quidditch World Cup made things infinitely less embarrassing with his parents, and despite his mother found out about the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, she wasn’t too rude with their guest, at least until she tried to defend them about the toffee he and George gave to Harry’s cousin.
“You shouldn’t have done it. Now she’s going to blame you for anything too now,” Fred told her once Mrs. Weasley stopped screaming. They were hidden in a nearby field, laying in the grass watching countless little white clouds rushing by, carried south by the wind.
“Someone had to do it, not everything you do is just plain wrong,” she replied, adjusting the denim jacket she tucked under her head. With a stretch of the imagination, she could imagine it was a soft pillow, and she was as weightless as the clouds, headed for a light-hearted adventure.
“I hope someday she’ll understand us,” Fred went on, more lost in Hermione’s side profile than in the blue and white sky. “It’s not just about making people laugh, we want to create something of our own, something nobody has ever done before.”
For some strange reasons, Hermione found it honourable, perhaps more so than Percy’s desire to take the social ladder.
“She’ll understand, you’ll open your own shop and she’ll be you customer too,” Hermione replied, closing her eyes to enjoy the peace and silent those daydream exuded. No more screaming matches in the kitchen, no more cold stares at the dinner table, and most of all, a true lab for the twins to experiment in, so no more explosions coming from their bedroom. A little too perfect for the Weasleys, but after all she liked to let her imagination run wild once in a while.
“And will you be too?” Fred asked in a whisper, making her shiver. She didn’t know what exactly was happening to her, but it’s been months since she started to get along more with her best friend’s brother than with Ron himself.
“I won’t need to be you customer to know all the products, you’ll come to ask desperately for my help and my infinite knowledge will finally be appreciated,” she joked, crossing Fred’s half amused and half amazed gaze.
“Not even for Penelope’s Purple Pussy Cats?” he asked, feigning offense.
“Not for those, and not even for one of your cheap love potions,” Hermione added, getting closer and closer to her friend’s face, drawn like iron to a magnet.
“You definitely don’t need those,” Fred concluded, cancelling the ridiculous distance separating them. Although he had thin lips, they were incredibly soft, and despite his lively character, he kissed her gently, as if they had all the time in the world and he wanted to woo her by stroking her rosy cheeks with trembling fingers. Hermione lost all sense of time, and perhaps even of space, for it was with utter amazement she felt a raindrop fall on her bare shoulder.
“You can’t be serious...” Fred muttered, his eyes turned to the suddenly leaden sky. The storm hit them fully as they tried to run home, and while they slipped through the front door soaked and covered in mud, Hermione couldn’t help but think she would kiss him for hours, hiding in a hallway or pressed against the wooden walls of his room, if only there weren’t all those people at the Burrow. The problem turned out to be even greater at school, but they managed to keep the situation under control until the summer after her fourth year, when everyone joined Sirius at Grimmauld Place. The first to express her perplexities aloud was Ginny, when in honour of the Summer Solstice Fred didn’t took off the flower crown Hermione made for him. The older of the two girls begged the younger Weasley to keep the information to herself, but Ron soon became suspicious too, seeing that Fred, who along with George could now Apparate, did nothing but sneak out to bring their common friend whatever she craved at the moment.
“First it was marshmallows, then iced coffee, I’d understand if it was something from Honeydukes, but those are Muggle things and they can be only for you,” he said, in his embarrassed and twisted way to explain the matter. The quieter of the twins obviously already knew everything, so with the start of her fifth year it seemed natural to go public, as much as possible under Umbridge’s dictatorial regime. Hermione just found a comfortable place to read in the Room of Requirements when Lee, Fred and George joined them along with Cho Chang, much to Harry’s delight.
“It’s bizarre,” said her boyfriend, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, darling? But it was just a broom closet then...”
A shiver ran through Hermione’s spine, forcing her to squeeze the pages of Jinx for the Jinxed harder than she wanted. She remembered perfectly well that day on the beginning of the year, her moans muffled by Fred’s kisses, his hands making their way under her skirt... She had to close the book shut to get a grip on herself and not rush out with him from the first official meeting of the Dumbledore’s Army.
“You did it on purpose!” Hermione exclaimed as they came back to the Common Room, while Lee and George moved far enough to give them the much agonized space. “You wanted to distract me to get the better of me with disarmament spells!”
“You know I’d do anything to win,” he teased her again, and for the next two weeks there were no more discussions about the methods he and George choose to test their new products, only long passionate kisses and a couple stolen caresses, after which came the Terry Boot incident. The Ravenclaw was so enchanted that Hermione could cast a flawless Protea Charm his words sparkled a little jealously in Fred, who decided he had to mark his territory. They nearly broke curfew that time, but for a moment, Hermione forgot even her Prefect duties and dreamed of their naked bodies for several nights to come. After the lifetime ban Professor Umbridge inflicted on nearly half the Gryffindor Quidditch Team things calmed down a little, but Hermione knew the twins would find the perfect way to get back at her, which came in the form of the biggest and most elaborate prank they ever set up, involving a lot of fireworks, some Stinksap stolen from Professor Sprout’s greenhouse, a Portable Swamp and the confiscated brooms, which reached the twins still attached to the chains used to fasten them to the wall.
“Only two months left, and then we’ll have the best summer of our lives,” Fred told Hermione before flying off into the glorious sunset, accompanied by a tumultuous applause and Professor Umbridge’s indignant screams.
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artbyflor · 3 years
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Harry and Ginny are just not the couple you want to bet against
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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years
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I’ve Got You
Gryffindor!Reader X Draco Malfoy
Requested: @queenofmankind​ Hii! can I request a small oneshot for Draco x Gryffindor reader based on the song “I Got You” by Leona Lewis please if that’s not too much? Thank you! 
A/n: Okay this is in no way “short” though I suppose by my normal works it is, only about 3.5k. But I hope it’s what you were after and may I just say it is an amazingly precious song by oh my stars does it sound like the early 2000s of my youth. Also sorry it took so long to get around to, I’m very particular about music (because I have synesthesia with music among other things) but I absolutely love how this turned out!!  Let me know what you guys think and watch these dorks pine after each other. 
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“Malfoy?” I looked up from the rack of new quills. “What are you doing in this part of town?”
The blond hair boy stared at me shocked, as if my acknowledgement of him was unbelievable. He rolled his eyes and went back to looking at new rolls of parchment.
“Oh, come on really? You’re gonna be like that?” Crossing my arms, I turned and faced him completely.
“Be like what?” He snapped, his eyes cold and defensive. “In case you have noticed, we don’t like each other!”
“And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s the summer, and I never said I didn’t like you. Not that I do like you particularly,” I muttered under my breath.
“So, what that it’s the summer?” His words were quick and sharp.
“Well, I mean, right now, I’m not a Gryffindor and you’re not a Slytherin. You’re just Malfoy,” A smile played at my lips. “Or have you forgotten?”
“How can you say something like that? Of course, you’re still a Gryffindor and I’m still a Slytherin. That’s how this works!”
“But it doesn’t have to,” I held out the parchment I knew he was looking for because I had seen him use it all year.
“Of course, it does!” He snatched the parchment from my hand. “If we’re not our Houses what are we?” The words were like ice, but they didn’t faze me.
“Maybe, I don’t know... people?” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at the seemingly lost cause. “Don’t be a stranger Malfoy,”
His dumbfounded look had me laughing to myself as I exited the small shop, and stepped out onto the lane, smiling up at the rain that came down.
........................................
The next time I saw him, was just before the school year started. We both wound up looking for the same book together. There was a challenge in his eyes—the book was elusive: who would find it first.
“Ha!” I called, holding up the book victoriously.
Draco’s head popped up from a few rows away. He sulked, making his way over to me. I handed him the copy and went to look for another... that wasn’t there. Draco seemed to realize that too.
“Here,” He scoffed, shoving the book back into my hands. “You found it first.”
“No, it’s alright,” I smiled, not taking it. “I can buy it second hand, I don’t have a problem with that,” There was a slight accusation in my tone that Draco seemed to pick up on.
Rolling his eyes at me, he stormed off, book in his hands. I remained near the shelves, looking to see if I had missed another copy indeed, but it was in vain. Sighing, I stood. Until I heard a familiar voice ranting near the counter of the shop. A very scared store clerk rushed away, ducking into the back of the store, coming out with another copy of the book we had just been arguing over.
An annoy smirk was on Draco’s face as he gave me the one from the shelf.
“This one had no doubt been touched by a mudblood.” He sneered. “How dare the clerk think I would buy such a thing,”
Tried as he might, I saw right through his little charade.
“Okay, Malfoy,” I chuckled, hugging the book to my chest. “Sure thing,”
“And besides. I owe you for finding that parchment. I don’t like being in people’s debt,” His mask was stoic and unfeeling.
“It’s not about—” I tried as he walked away.
I let out an annoyed growl that faded to a smile as I caught his eye as he left the shop. There was a smile on his face as he looked back at me.
........................................
As soon as we were back on school grounds, he was a Slytherin and I was a Gryffindor again. But maybe we weren’t. Maybe we were... people.
When I found Draco asleep in the library late one night, hunched over his Potions notes, I found myself smiling at him. He wasn’t a Slytherin then, he wasn’t even Malfoy... he was Draco.
“Draco,” I whispered softly, nudging his arm. “Draco, wake up,” I whispered a bit harsher.
Blue eyes flashed open, his wand at the ready as he almost fell out of his chair—if I hadn’t caught him.
“I got you,” I helped him stand. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”
 He rubbed his face and leaned against the desk that protruded from the shelves of books. 
“Studying,” His voice sounded annoyed and groggy.
“Oh, I’m sure,” There was a smirk on my lips. “Go to bed, Draco, you’re exhausted.” 
“You’re just saying that, so you’ll beat me on the exam tomorrow,” He sulked.
I almost rolled my eyes.
“Yes, because your grades are much more important to me than your well-being,” I drawled. “Don’t be stupid Draco, go to bed.” I annunciated each word.
“I’m not being stupid, and I don’t need you looking after me! We’re not friends and I don’t like you! Now stop acting like I do and leave me alone!” He snapped, grabbing his notes and storming out of the library, leaving me there, dumbfounded and hurt.
A deep breath in and out, and the hurt faded. I raised my head and walked out of the library behind him. For better or worse, he was on my mind as I laid in bed that night, and all the while the next day as we took our Potions exam under Snape’s watchful eye.
Our interactions throughout the years stayed at about that level. I’d catch him in a moment when he needed help but wouldn’t admit it, and I wouldn’t hesitate.
........................................
It happened when I was going back to my dorm after prefect duty and Draco was avoiding Filch like the plague. I said nothing but grabbed his hand and shoved him into a nearby classroom, standing guard outside. As Filch passed, I smiled and nodded, and he left without suspicion.
“If you ever—” Draco seethed, white hot fury on his face that honestly scared me. He towered over me this year.
“You’re welcome,” I snapped, heading back toward my dorm, my fists clenched, tears in my eyes.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I yelled at myself. “What is wrong with you?” I met my reflection in the mirror. A confused, hurt girl looked back.
You care for him, she seemed to say back.
........................................
It happened again when he and Harry fought after the quidditch game. Hermione aided Harry, and no one dared go near Draco, who was bleeding and appeared downright dangerous. As soon as the crowds left, I saw Draco try to take a step forward and stumble. Rushing forward, I grabbed his arm and slung it around my shoulders.
“I got you,” I murmured encouragingly.
He didn’t seem to have an insult to throw at me as I took him to madam Pomfrey. I didn’t stay as soon as he was in her care. Instead, like a true Gryffindor, I fled the scene and broke down in tears in a nearby hallway. Hermione found me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder.
“It’ll be alright,” She encouraged. “You’ll be alright,” 
........................................
And again. It was sixth year. I had watched Draco go from an annoying git to looking like death walking. The night after Harry did something that I would never forgive him for, I found Draco curled up in the Astronomy Tower, a mostly empty bottle of Fire Whiskey gripped tightly in his hand. Worry grew in my chest as I wrestled the bottle from his hands.
“Did you drink all of this?” I shrieked. “Of all the stupid insolent thoughtless reckless idiotic things you could have done!” I didn’t even know how to end the insult.
“I’m fine,” He slurred. “You worry about me too much,” His head lulled back, half opened eyes looking up at me, an amused smile on his face.
“Oh, I worry just enough for your sorry ass,” I growled, helping him to his feet. “Come on, we have to get you back to your dorm,”
“You’re bossy,” He leaned most of his weight on me, tripping and nearly face planting on the first step he tried to take. The curse that tumbled from his lips caught me off guard.
“Merlin, Draco.” I groaned, helping him back up. “Oh, I am never going to hear the end of this,” Muttering to myself, I draped my robe around him.
“Get this fucking thing off me,” He sloppily fumbled, attempting to dislodge my robe from around his shoulders. “Bloody Gryffindor,”
“You’re making this very difficult,” I growled, resorting to actually carrying him with the aid of a Levitating Spell.
“But that’s how you like me,” Draco smirked, his head falling back. “Little Gryffindor can’t leave the Slytherin prince.”
“More like Slytherin damsel in distress,” I muttered under my breath, walking up to the Gryffindor portrait.
The Fat Lady eyed us both. I gave her a pleading look with the password said and she let us in. Thanking the stars that the common room was empty, I quickly hurried up the stairs, marveling that they didn’t fall out from under me. Who knew that carrying a boy up the stairs would work?
“Put me down!” Draco whined.
I obliged and dropped him on my bed. Locking the door and practically barricading the room, I paced my floor trying to figure out what to do with the very drunk very ostentatious Draco who was lounging across my bed.
“Of all the times I imagined your bedroom, I didn’t expect this,” His eyes followed the walls of my room that were covered in my favorite paintings and hanging plant vases.
My cheeks flushed as I realized that he just admitted to thinking about my room. More than once. I shoved that thought aside and started to think about what to do with him. What was I supposed to do with him?
Sighing, I resulted to taking care of him.
“I’m going to take my robe off of you. And yours,” I whispered softly, nearing him. 
“Stripping me already? Isn’t that a bit forward?” He grinned. “Never took you as the type.” 
“For the love of Merlin, shut the fuck up right now,” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut. 
“Ooooh, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that pretty mouth curse before.”
I paced away from him and clenched my fists, fighting the urge to punch him in the face. Six years. Six years he never once batted an eyelash at me. Never showed an inkling of care and this is what it took? Him wasted and not thinking correctly?
Inhaling deeply, I ignored all of the other words that came from his mouth with great difficulty as I got his robe off as well as his tie and sweater. Tugging him off the bed, I lead him to the small bathroom that was allotted to my prefect dorm. Draco slumped down on the toilet. Rummaging around in the back of my med kit, I found what I was looking for, something I had bought off of Fred and George: anti-nausea tablets. It was intended for use after throwing up tablets to get out of class, but I figured it was better to keep them on hand.
“Here,” I offered it to Draco with a glass of water. “We need to sober you up,”
“I’m fine,” He slurred again, leaning against the cool tile of the shower. 
“No, you’re not. Draco.” I bit out and took a deep breath. “Please,”
“Whatever,” He grumbled and took the glass of water and tablet, downing both. Some color returned to his face and I sighed in relief. “Why is it so damn hot in here?” He groaned, easily slipping his shirt over his head.
I gasped, seeing the angry red gashes littered across his creamy skin. My eyes followed them over his shoulders and down his arms, to where something else resided, having my stomach churning.
“Draco you didn’t,” I squeaked out, taking his left arm, tears in my eyes. “Tell me you didn’t!”
“I had to; The Dark Lord was going to kill me family... kill me.” His words were surprisingly calm, all things considered.
Tears streamed down my face as I reached up to stroke his face, there was a sadness that lingered in his eyes. He was a broken man in my hands. I ran the water from the faucet, running a washcloth under it, wringing it out, then crouching down between his legs.
“I’m gonna clean you up, alright?” I whispered softly.
He didn’t speak. His eyes stayed trained on me. The garnet cloth was a stark contrast to Draco’s marble skin.
“Why are you so kind to me?” He mumbled out. “I’ve been an arse to you for years...”
“Because,” I smiled softly, delicately wiping the sweat from his face. “Against my better judgement, I’ve got you Malfoy.”
His eyes slipped closed and his weight slumped against me.
“Draco? Draco!?” I tilted his chin back, kneeling before him. “Wake up! Come on asshole, wake up!” There were tears in my eyes as his blue eyes fluttered open.
“Your eyes have flecks of gold in them,” He slurred out, his hand clumsily brushing the hair from my face.
“Okay pretty boy,” I smiled. “Let’s get you to bed,”
It took some effort and a bit more arguing, but he was curled up on top of my sheets, sleeping on his side. I let out a defeated sigh and pulled my desk chair beside his head and sat there, picking up my book, keeping mind to wake him every so often to drink water and to make sure that he was sobering up. Sometime around four in the morning, I felt sure enough to let him sleep off the rest of the alcohol as I folded myself in the chair, watching him until my eyes became too heavy to open again.
In the morning, he was gone. There wasn’t a trace of him left. The bed was made properly, his clothes had vanished, the washcloth I had used was dried and folded back in the cupboard. Looking around there was no evidence except my dislodged desk chair that last night wasn’t a dream.
It broke my heart more than it should have.
When our eyes caught in the halls, he looked away and rushed the other way, leaving me staring after him and Hermione pulling at my arm, reminding me we were going to be late.
He avoided me the rest of the year. 
I didn’t see him that summer.
I avoided him seventh year.
 Almost. 
........................................
Draco crashed into me one night. Fear struck my heart because I was out past curfew, getting a blanket from a first years dorm that they had forgotten to bring to the Room of Requirement. He almost didn’t notice me, there were tears in his eyes.
Then he yanked my arm hard and shoved me against the wall, his wand under my throat. 
“You shouldn’t be in the halls,” He hissed, almost in hysterics. “What are you thinking!?”
I held my tongue, tensing for the Cruciatus Curse that I knew was coming. It was an all too common punishment these days. Seconds dragged on as we stared each other down. Then, he backed away, catching me when I stumbled at the lack of support.
“Now we’re even,”
Then he stalked down the hall in the opposite direction.
“Draco,” His name fell from my lips without my permission as my feet followed his. “Draco, please,”
“I won’t be forgiving twice,” He growled, keeping his brisk pace.
“Fine,” I pulled his hand, making him stop. “Do whatever you want to me. Snap at me, insult me, leave me, torture me, I don’t care, but Draco I ask one thing,” My voice wavered as tears pricked my eyes. “When are you going to see that this has never been about keeping score?”
His snarled faced fell into the same broken look that haunted his features about a year ago. His hand raised, and I flinched involuntarily, but there was no need. His arms curled around me, pulling me to him. I froze. He inhaled deeply then released me.
Wordlessly he left. 
And this time I watched him go.
........................................
His eyes met mine as we stared at each other from different sides of the same war.
Then he was gone.
This time I knew the heartbreak was coming. I just didn’t know how much it would shatter me. 
.......................................
It had been a few months since the Battle of Hogwarts. There was a knock on my apartment door. Night hung in the air.
“Mr. Weasley? Draco?” I frowned.
“Alright Draco, you know the rules,” Mr. Weasley gestured. “Five minutes.” I let the blond- haired man into my apartment.
“Please, I don’t have a lot of time.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Alright...” I closed and locked the door behind him.
He stood in front of my small hearth, his back to me, watching the dying flames. 
“Draco?” I asked, taking a step towards him.
“My... my trial is tomorrow,” The words scarcely left his lips at an audible volume. “They... they say I can call any witness... to speak on my behalf... Harry would be my best bet, but he would never but I thought maybe you would—” He stopped short, turning to face me. “I don’t deserve to ask this of you,” His blue eyes scrutinized mine, holding all the sadness of the world. “But please,”
“Give me a time and place,” I said without second thought. “I’ve got you, Draco,” A smile touched my lips.
A strangled cry of relief left his lips as he pulled me into his arms. I don’t know how long we stood there, holding each other. There was another knock on the door. Five minutes was up. Mr. Weasley gave the information for the trial, and his best, before apperating away.
I wasted no time going around to every classmate I could find, not giving in until they promised to be there tomorrow too. When Harry agreed, I sagged in relief and pulled him into a hug. Maybe, after all this time, I could forgive Harry for nearly killing Draco after all.
After the trial—and the witness accounts of nearly fifty Hogwarts Alumni that Draco was a victim of war—is when Draco broke down crying into my arms, away from the cameras and the crowds. I held him and rubbed his back softly.
“I’ve got you,” I soothed. “It’s alright. You’re alright, Draco.” 
........................................
The next few days, Draco wound up on my doorstep in the waking hours of the night, trembling. Claiming that he couldn’t sleep at the Manor because of what memories haunted him there. Again, he begged for my kindness, whispering that he knew he didn’t deserve it, crying because he desperately needed it anyway.
After a while, I simply invited him over for dinner then to spend the night. There was no use denying that he was going to wind up here anyway.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not sleeping on the couch. You’re like six foot four, Draco.” I crossed my arms in indigitation. “Take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,”
“No, that’s just wrong,” He argued. “I’m imposing on you, I can deal with a bloody couch,”
“Draco,” I scolded, fighting the urge to stomp my foot. “Take—the—fucking—bed—you— asshole,”
An amused smile played at his lips as I glared up at him. He didn’t argue back, however, to my surprise. When I was finally grasping at sleep—not because of the stupid couch—there was a creak in the floorboards and the sound of socks against hardwood. They paused in front of me and I felt arms pull me into their grasp, cradling me.
“Draco?” I slurred sleepily. “Put me down,” It was nearly a whine. 
He shushed me softly. “I’ve got you,”
That was the first night we both found sleep and comfort in each other’s arms. And it surely wasn’t the last. Draco moved in about a month later, and the first thing he did was buy a bigger bed for the both of us—and a longer couch.
........................................
Months turned into years. Nervous butterflies turned into ‘I love you’s. Night terrors turned into nightmares turned into peaceful nights. Night turned into day. Traitor turned to Co-Trainee Healer turned to Co-Head Healer. Girlfriend turned into fiancée turned into wife. Boy turned into man turned into father. Fears turned to memories. Moments turned into photo albums.
One thing never changed: You always had Draco Malfoy.
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jamilelucato · 3 years
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hi!! I just followed and saw your open request for hp fics!! congrats btw!! I was wondering if you could write for me either a Fred Weasley x reader or Sirius Black x reader with Enemies to Lovers? If y/n could be a hufflepuff that'd be awesome too lol ❤️❤️ also I'm here for the banter + unresolved sexual tension 👁️👄👁️ thank you!!
Gryffies and Puffies [F. W.]
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader
Summary: Fred and [y/N] were never close, in fact, they hated each other, but Angelina is determined to change that.
A/N: Hi! Thank you, really! I tried to follow your request as much as I could, sorry if the Hufflepuff portrait is not much Hufflepuff like, I’m not one and I don’t have many friends that are, but I tried to keep it as I knew. Hope you like it! (gif not mine)
Last chance to send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist
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Although, generally, [y/N] doesn’t bother doing her homework way earlier than needed, this time she knew she had to start soon if she wanted a good grade.
Professor Snape wasn’t very fond of the Hufflepuff’s students, so, as a proud member of her house, [y/N] felt like she had to prove the Professor wrong, and show the authoritarian how smart Hufflepuffs can be.
It was the third book she had got from the Library, and this one specifically was just about the subject — Ageing Potions — but [y/N] seemed more lost than before while reading it. Sh even asked, politely, to the Librarian if the book was in English because she couldn’t understand a full paragraph.
“Having trouble there?” asked Angelina Johnson before sitting down in the chair next to [y/N]’s.
[y/N] smiled at her long-time friend. Angelina’s mom was a great friend of [y/N]’s mom, and so, they grew up together, as a weird but cool duo. Angelina had a more explosive personality, when [y/N] was generally softer and prefered to talk instead of punching.
“A lot, actually,” [y/N] sighed. “Have you started yours yet?” the sixth-years Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors shared Snape’s classes, so [y/N] knew Angelina had the same assignment as her.
“Oh, haven’t even started,” answered Angelina, catching one of the books in front of them and flipping through it.
“Angie! Professor Snape already has something against you, don’t give him an extra to work with!” [y/N] retorted, genuinely worried for her friend.
Angelina chuckled. “By something against me, you mean because I sit with the twins?”
“Exactly!” the girls burst into soft laughter.
Angelina knew that [y/N] was out for the Weasley twins ever since third-year when they painted the whole Hufflepuff common room black for one week. Professor Flitwick had to step in to help get rid of the magical paint.
But that wasn’t just it. It seemed as if whenever [y/N] got into trouble, the twins, and more specifically, Fred Weasley, was around.
“So... Hogsmeade this weekend. You comin’?” asked Angelina when the laughter calmed down.
“Nope, got this to finish,” [y/N] sighed, pointing to the parchment blank. “Or gotta start it.”
Angelina protested, “come on, you never come!”
“With you, I don’t!” [y/N] frowned. “You always bring them!”
“They’re my best friends!”
“Ouch,” [y/N] pretended to be offended, but only gained a shove from Angie before her best friend started laughing again. Those two were always laughing.
“I promise they’ll behave,” Angie sparkled her dark brown eyes towards [y/N], and seeing a pit face, [y/N] knew she had lost.
“Fine,” the Hufflepuff agreed, closing the books in front of them, knowing very well that no preparation in the world would make her homework worthy of a good grade in Snape’s eyes. “But you owe me one.”
“Put it on the account,” smiled Angie.
***
“Here she comes, the Hufflepuff princess,” smirked an inpatient Fred Weasley, watching with a brow raised as [y/N] finally got out of the train.
Without staring the identical redheads, [y/N] apologized to Angelina, “sorry, got stuck with Bryan and Clary, they were tellin’ me about the...”
“No one cares, puffie,” Fred whispered, in a voice that sounded almost like a whistle.
“Shut it, Weasley,” [y/N] warned, with a tired look. If her visit to Hogsmeade was going to be like that, she did not know if she’d be able to honour the motto of kindness and forgiveness of her Hogwarts House.
“Oh, she acknowledges I’m here,” Fred smirked again, “finally.”
[y/N] rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm around Angelina’s, while she murmured apologies. The two girls took the lead, while the twins followed, and [y/N] could swear that every announced turn she and Angie decided to take, she could hear Fred sighing in complain — and she was loving that.
“First stop: Honeydukes!” [y/N] shouted, stating the way.
Angelina stopped when she noticed Fred had stopped too.
“No way — Zonko’s first,” he debated.
[y/N] turned around, facing the redhaired boy — really facing him, like she had not done yet. She sometimes forgot how cute he was.
Well, any boy taller than her, she considered cute really, because she loved how they leaned down to look at her — and Fred had a lot of leaning down to do.
“Honeydukes,” [y/N] said, hoping her voice sounded as scary as Professor Snape because he was the one she was trying to imitate.
“Look, you can eat later, puffie, but the good products will sell out if George and I don’t go to Zonko’s now,” he continued his pledge.
“You two go then — I’m going Honeydukes first,” [y/N] was trying her hardest to stand her point, but when Angelina and George puffed next to them, she lost a bit of her posture.
“You expect George and I will let you two girls walk around alone?”
“I don’t need a bodyguard!” [y/N] shouted, crossing her arms.
“If that’s supposed to be your scare-people-away face, then yes, you need bodyguards,” Fred argued.
“Let’s go to Zonko’s first, y/N. It’ll give less time for the chocolates to melt,” Angelina stepped in the argument, knowing that the two would continue to argue all day if they could. In fact, Angelina had already witnessed them arguing two whole hours about which team was better at Quidditch — and it seemed to be horrible to [y/N] offend Angelina as a player just to win the argument.
Puffing the whole way and not daring to face Fred, [y/N] followed them to Zonko’s. It was easier to avoid looking at him when the boys entered the store (already crowded) and got lost from the girls in the middle of the shelves, their eyes shining with new and classic products.
Taking advantage of the momentary peace, [y/N] wandered around the store, looking for something that could be used for good fun, like some board game. She didn’t realize that Fred was right behind her until he opened his mouth.
His voice a whisper so close to her ear, that it shivered all over her: “you should buy it if you can’t stop staring,” he smirked.
She turned around to face the boy way too close than she expected. Trying to step away, she bumped into the shelve, but fortunately, nothing fell.
“I don’t want a stupid...” [y/N] battled with herself if she should say or not the next word, “furry bear,” she ended up saying because she hated leaving phrases unfinished.
“Yeah, okay,” Fred pretended to believe, puffing his chest.
“I don’t,” [y/N] stated again.
“Sure, if you say so,” he continued his little game.
“Just because Hufflepuffs are kind, it does not mean we like all cute and fluffy and soft things, okay,” [y/N] tried to prove her point using of more complex sentences, but noticing his smile, she thought she only contradicted herself.
“Not all Hufflepuffs are the same,” Fred tried to help her.
“Exactly,” [y/N] crossed her arms.
“But you like the fluffy and plushy,” Fred raised an eyebrow, but he did not look into her eyes.
“Yes,” [y/] agreed, before even realizing what she was saying yes to. She only had time to listen to Fred burst into laughter, she could no longer take back what she said.
But for a second, it didn’t matter; his laugh was worth it. Until it wasn’t.
“So you like plushy, huh,” he repeated non-stop.
“Oh, for Helga’s sake,” [y/N] she puffed, desperately trying to get away from the ginger boy.
***
When the boys had finally bought all they wanted from Zonko’s, [y/N] and Angelina were already outside waiting. There weren’t many things that the girls founded interesting there. Angelina favours Quidditch stuff and, [y/N], as pointed out by Fred himself, prefers fluffy things.
“That took a while,” you pretended to whisper when actually you spoke loud enough for the twins to hear.
“Oh, did we make you wait, puffie?” Fred teased, but [y/N] just rolled her eyes, not ready to fall into his traps again.
“Well, for fairness, it’s you girls’ time to pick a place,” George said, and [y/N] involuntarily smiled at the more delicate Weasley twin.
“Honeydukes!!” [y/N] shouted before Angelina could say anything, but it didn’t matter. The three Gryffindors immediately started giggling at the girl’s excitement to visit the candy store.
Angelina and George got themselves involved in a talk about the new best broom in the market, leaving Fred and [y/N] behind. They both played Quidditch too, but George and Angie made no effort to include them in the conversation.
“See,” [y/N] decided to tease Fred since they were closest, “if we had gone to Honeydukes first, you wouldn’t need to carry those many bags around.”
Fred almost forgot how to walk. He was generally the one that started the teasing — [y/N] wasn’t much of the provocative kind unless she was provoked. However, Fred liked it.
“You would be the one carrying the bags then, genius,” Fred pointed out, turning his face sightless to the right to get a glimpse of her reaction.
“How many sweets do you think I’m buying?” she asked, analyzing the three plastic bags in his left hand and the two others in his right one. She compared it to the three chocolate bars and a couple of chocolate frogs she had in mind, and she was sure it would be just one bag.
Fred shrugged, letting out a soft chuckled. [y/N] might have had a point, but he was not going to admit it.
When they finally arrived at the candy shop, Fred lost sight of [y/N] because she fastly ran inside. Angelina entered the shop too, but George and Fred had so many bags they were afraid to walk in, so they decided to take turns inside.
Fred went in first, excited to see how [y/N] would be in her environment, but he didn’t like what he saw. As soon as he walked in, he saw her in a corner on the left-back, surrounded by some boys. At that distance, Fred would not guess they were Hufflepuffs.
His first instinct was to suppose she was in danger, but then she laughed. Really laughed, in the sweetest way possible, in a way she had never laughed to his jokes.
He knew she was alright, but he wasn’t. He rushed out of the store, surprising George.
“Back so soon?” George asked.
Fred was not in the mood to tell his twin that might have caught feelings for a certain uneasy girl, so he lied.
“Yeah, had no money left. I mean, if I still want a butterbeer,” Fred said, shrugging and taking his brother’s place as the guard of their Zonko’s products.
George said no more, glad to have the chance to buy something sweet for himself. In the middle of the night, after running around with Fred, George loved having a chocolate frog to recharge his energies.
“Next stop,” said Angelina, once the three got out of the candy store, “Three Broomsticks.”
Everybody agreed with ununderstanding whispers. [y/N], as she planned, got out of Honeydukes with only one plastic bag, that she teasingly raised towards Fred, who rolled his eyes, with a troubled expression.  
His reaction wasn’t the one [y/N] was anticipating. She wanted him to make a quick remark, mess with her bad eating habits, anything like that. But ignore a clear chance to mess with her — she did not expect that.
She rushed to Angie’s side, happy to get a chance to gossip with her best girl about what the boys she had met in the shop had just told her.
“So, Luke told me that Cormac McLaggen is chasing after your friend Alicia, is that true?” [y/N] asked.
Angelina turned her face to her best friend, confused with such a question. Not that the two never gossip before, but [y/N]’s tone was generally less invasive and judge than this.
“Why? Are you interested?” Angie asked, raising a brow.
[y/N] almost choked.
“Interested? Me?” she puffed. “Please.”
Behind the girls, one of the twins was paying very close attention to the conversation.
“He’s not really your type, is he?”
“I’m not interested in him,” [y/N] debated. “I could be, but I ain’t.”
Angie turned her face to the front again before pulling the door of the Three Broomsticks. The four got in, and George was looking around for an empty table when [y/N] asked: “what are you guys taking?”
“Butterbeer,” the three Gryffindors answered together, causing the girl to smile at their synchronization.
“I’ll get it; you go sit down,” she was actually being nice because, of all of them, she was the one with fewer bags.
Being friends with Madam Rosmerta had its privileges, such as [y/N] was first attended as soon as she reached the counter.
“Hey, Madam Rosmerta! How’s it goin’?” [y/N] asked, working extra hard her charm. The whole counter was staring at her, half angry, half not believing, that she was being served before them.
When the woman finally gave [y/N] her drinks, she headed to the table her friends had picked, noticing with an exhalation that the only chair left was in the middle of Fred and George.
“That was fast,” pointed out George, getting his butterbeer with a smile and tossing you a sickle.
“No need, it’s on me,” [y/N] said, giving George his coin back. “Actually on Rosmerta, but that’s supposably to be a secret.”
Angelina smiled, reaching for her cup and savouring the butterbeer as if it was more tasteful because it had been free.
Fred looked at you without exactly turning but grabbed his drink anyway.
“Thanks,” he whispered, this time Fred’s tone had no sign of banter.
[y/N] was scared they would remain in that dreadful silence, bt Angelina took her chance to tell everyone about her father’s newest accomplishment and how it would affect them — he had a bought a summer house near the beach. She was sure he would allow her to bring them for a weekend.
“Wow, Angie, count me in! Would love beach day!” [y/N] beamed.
Angelina chuckled. “I’ll see if we can go next holiday.”
The whole table cheered in excitement, and George was so happy that he decided to buy them the next round of butterbeer.
When the day in Hogsmeade was over, [y/N] and Fred got back to their usual bickering. George knew that would happen, but Angie was, in fact, hoping for them to finally develop a real friendship, better than the day to day teasing.
Days and months went by. [y/N] ended up getting the better side of Professor Snape, after all — he said her essay was the best one from that class.
Angelina kept trying to connect Fred and [y/N], but it was like she was running from him. Fred seemed neutral about it all, and that was a first.
“So my father got back to me...” Angelina started telling the twins as soon as the Quidditch practice was over.
“And?” George was genuinely enthusiastic.
“And we can go for the Easter holiday!” cheered Angelina. “Unless your mom doesn’t allow you to come...”
“Molly will be pleased to have two less in the house,” admitted George.
“Is [y/N] coming?” Fred asked, raising his voice so he could be heard since he was in the back of the tent.
Angelina exchanged looks with George before answering, scared that he wouldn’t like her answer. “Yes, she is, and I hope you behave.”
“Are you saying that to her?” Fred retorted.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t the one who messes with her,” Angelina tilted her head towards Fred, who just shrugged, puffing as if he was innocent. “Well, gonna invite Alicia and Katie. See you later.”
***
Part of [y/N] wondered why she had said yes. Sure, Angelina Johnson was her best friend of all times, but still, as her father drove you two to the beach house, all she could think of was that it would be a house filled with Gryffindors and she would be the only outsider.
She wasn’t friends with the others. She could become friends with Alicia and Katia, she guessed, and George was somewhat of a colleague, but Fred? Oh, Helga, she signed in for a nightmare.
Since the Hogsmeade trip a couple of months ago, things without explanation kept on happening with [y/n] more often than before. Clothes coloured in bright pink, her cat turning in with two tails instead of just one, and she even received letters with nothing written on — those were the most confusing of the pranks. Again, she was almost sure it was Fred’s fault, but since the pranks were harmless, she never confronted him about them.
Angelina and [y/N] had time to settle themselves down in a room just for the two — Katie and Alicia were getting another one, and Fred and George the one far most at the end of the corridor.
When the six kids were all together, things started getting, well, exciting. There was no way Fred and George were going to let that trip be a bore.
Without parents around, you six stayed on the beach until 4 a.m, watching the sun rising far away. Alicia had brought some firewhisky, but since it was only two bottles, the group decided to save for later.
When [y/N] woke up on the second day, she found herself lying in a mattress-shaped floater, tossed in the middle of the pool.
“WEASLEYS!!” she shouted, waking the whole house up.
With no wand around, [y/N] had no option but to jump in the pool and swim to get out of there. When she managed to cross half of the backyard, Fred and George appeared at the door, and you took a glimpse inside the house, where the girls ate breakfast like nothing was happening to [y/N].
“Morning-swim, huh?” Fred crossed his arms, smirking slightly.
“You’ll pay for that, Fred,” she replied, shaking, the coldness of the water that soaked her combined with the wind of the beach was not doing her good.
“Cute pyjamas, puffie” he continued teasing as she passed him by — his eyes following her back as she went upstairs. The nickname was not something she was quite fond of, especially because she knew he used it just because of her house.
George nudged his twin. “Don’t ask why she doesn’t like you,” George said, leaving his brother at the door and sitting down next to Alicia.
“What? You helped,” pointed down Fred, sitting too.
“Yeah, but she likes me,” George raised a brow, his confident expression did not even shake at the dark look his twin cast.
*** When the night came, [y/N] was sure she had gotten a tan, but after she got in the shower and took a good look in front of the mirror, it was like the tan was gone. She wasn’t hurt, though, so it wasn’t all bad.
Getting downstairs, she noticed that the group hadn’t been able to keep themselves away from the firewhisky any longer, because the only two bottles were displayed in the middle of the table set outside in the backyard.
[y/N]’s white dress was practically sparkling in the dim light of outside, and for a minute, Fred was out of breath, staring at her in a way he had never before.
Well, actually... Never before since they arrived. But Fred was not gonna mention the other thousand times she left him breathless by her looks.
“Where’s Angie?” [y/N] asked before sitting down, noticing that her bestie was the only one left.
“Still showering. Angie says she can feel the sand everywhere yet,” explained Katie.
“And who’s to blame...” [y/N] wondered aloud, trying to provoke the twins who had been fighting everyone in the sand earlier.
Even though Fred teased her the whole afternoon — how she would never win him in the fight, how she was laze, how he was fast — she didn’t give in, preferring to get sunbathed. It didn’t work though, but at least she didn’t have sand in all weird places now.
Angie finally got outside, wearing a beautiful set of shorts and a floral blouse.
“Let’s start the game, come on, I really need it,” she said, and the whole table agreed.
They played an updated version of beer pong, the muggle game, and [y/N] was losing badly to everyone else. That meant that she was the one drinking more, and, for Helga, she was not used to it, but with time, the effects seemed to disappear.
When the game was over, [y/N] had been sitting for minutes at the edge of the pool, wetting only her feet. There was a cup of firewhisky in her hands, but even if not drunk, she knew she shouldn’t keep drinking it.
Someone found a way to play muggle music, and Angelina, Alicia, Katie and George were having the time of their lives in the improvised dance floor.
Fred was walking, as silently as he could, towards [y/N]. He wasn’t very fond of the music playing, and he wasn’t as drunk as the others. Generally, he would have pretended to be, like George was doing, just for the fun of it, but watching [y/N] all alone, he knew he had to something about her.
“Hey,” she smiled softly, noticing the boy sitting down next to her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, but she never answered. She put the cup down though — Fred thought that was a good sign. “I’m sorry about the pool earlier.”
[y/N] stared back at him, this time trying to analyze every aspect of his face. Like how he had moe freckles on his left cheek then the right. How his nose was big but yet perfectly pleasant to look at. How he was leaning towards her even though he wasn’t noticing. But she did. And she leaned in too.
“You know, if you wanted my attention, there were other ways to get it,” she said, surprising herself with the bravery to speak up.
Fred froze.
“You could have apologized to my cat, that would’ve been nice, for starters,” she said, this time surprising him, who laughed it off.
“He didn’t like the extra tail?”
“He actually did,” she joined him in the laughter, remembering her pet playing with a smile in her dorm room because he now had two tails. “Hey, how did you found out that he was my cat and not any other?”
Fred smiled in the dim light.
“He was the fluffiest,” was his answer. [y/N] elbowed him, pretending to be angry, but she knew that, unfortunately, her cat was the furriest cat Hogwarts had ever seen.
After a moment of silence, [y/N] decided she better get back to her room — and she hoped this time she would wake up there too. Getting up without warning, she ended up scaring Fred.
“Where are you going?” he asked, getting up too.
“Back to bed,” she said. “Better get a good night sleep before tomorrow — it is our last day after all.”
Fred wrinkled his nose. He knew she was right, but he also knew that it was his last chance to do something with her, at least, under the spark of the moon.
But she seemed so far away...
“Well, at least let me accompany you,” Fred offered [y/N] his arm, which she took with a smile.
They walked in silence — the rest of the group didn’t even notice they were gone.
[y/N] was about to get to her room when Fred stopped her.
“Wait,” he was confused whether it was the best time or not, but it was his only time so... “wait here, I’m gonna grab something for you.”
He walked to the end of the corridor, rushing to his room. Fred was rummaging through his suitcase, looking for what he wanted to give her.
[y/N] waited patiently — and quite anxiously — for whatever Fred was going to give her.
“Here, ” he said, giving her something he had hidden in his back. [y/N] grabbed from his hands, surprised with the texture of what she got. “I don’t know if Angelina ever mentioned me and my brother want to open a joke shop, and well, this product... You kinda inspired me to do it.”
She studied the hairy, yellow ball in her hands. Thankfully, she held it gently, because when she turned the thing over, she noticed that two little blue eyes were staring at her, startled.
“Oh my Helga, Freddie, is this alive?” she asked, but the answer didn’t really matter because she was already petting the small furry ball.
“It’s she, actually,” he smiled, noticing how happy she was with the gift. “Has no name, though.”
“What is she?” she asked while playing with the pet, noticing she was warming up to [y/N]’s touch.
“George and I named it Pygmy Puff — a miniature Puffskein,” Fred explained, petting the furry ball too. “They are generally pink or purple, so yours was made with a lot of care.”
[y/N] looked up from the yellow Pygmy Puff to Fred and tilted her head, uncontrollably smiling.
“Guess the Pygmy Puff has something to do with me too,” [y/N] teased.
“The whole thing has something to do with you,” Fred let out, blushing immediately, but [y/N] didn’t notice. Fred fake-coughed. “So, what will you name her?”
[y/N] thought about it for a while. “I guess it would only make sense if she was named Gryffie. After all, her creator is a Gryffindor,” [y/N] blushed but avoided looking at Fred, focusing solemnly in the Pygmy Puff.
“It makes sense,” Fred looked from the pet to the girl and bit his inner cheek. “Two houses come together for an invention.”
“That’s the Hogwarts spirit,” [y/N] laughed it off. “Thank you, Fred,” she said before leaning on tiptoes to place a kiss on Fred’s cheek.
The Pygmy Puff enjoyed the time with no attention and walked from [y/N]’s hand to her shoulder, and Fred stared at the fluffy thing while [y/N] kissed him.
And somehow it felt like the pet was trying to say something.
[y/N] stepped away and said good-night, entering her room with a sad look. She didn’t want the night to end. So, after placing Gryffie on the bed, she turned to the door, ready to open it again. But Fred was faster.
They stared for a full second before both rushed towards each other, locking their lips in a soft but potent kiss.
Fred’s hands found her waist and pulled her closer, as closer as Fred could — close as he always wished she was. [y/N], of course, ran her fingers through his hair, something she had been wanting to do for a while now, and she was glad to find such fluffy and soft hair.
They were breathless, but neither wanted to pull away. Fred leaned to her neck, finding her sensitive spot right away, and there was nothing better than hearing her moan so close to his ear.
Behind them, the Pygmy Puff made some sound weird, but they just laughed it off and pulled each other closer again, as if they could be closer than they were.
The Pygmy Puff cried again, and this time non-stop, so [y/N] had to pull away. She was the mother of that pet for only a couple of minutes, but she was very protective over it already.
“What is it?” she murmured towards the fluffy ball at the same time Fred cleared his throat, making [y/N] turn to Fred again, who was looking at the stairs.
“Hi, little love birds,” giggled a very drunk Angelina.
Fred and [y/N] were instantly red, from head to toes, but Angelina and the rest of the group didn’t even care, they just couldn’t giggling and bumping into each other.
“Hey, George, I think I’ll better sleep in your room,” Angelina spoke again. “I believe you’ll have an empty bed.”
“Good idea,” George said, locking arms with Angelina to protect her from falling — she could do it at any moment now. “Good-night, love birds. Or should I say love puffs?”
The four teenagers were laughing out loud, they could wake someone up if only someone were sleeping. George and Angie closed their door as soon as they walked in and winking at [y/N] and Fred, Alicia closed the door of hers and Katie’s room.
“Well, I guess I just lost my bed, puffie” Fred sighed, pretending to be upset, leaning on the door frame.
His eyes sparkled in the dim light of her room. [y/N] smirked, pulling him by his collar, suddenly very aware of her Femme Fatale powers.
“Good thing I have an extra one here,” she said, kissing him again, and again, and again...
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Text
If you died instead of Cedric (Draco x reader)
I am so sorry for the angst but I cannot get this out of my mind.
Warnings: This gets so fucking sad. Death is mentioned obviously, crying, swearing
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You were a champion instead of Cedric, making you automatically feel guilty
Cedric though, was basically training you, walking you through what to do
Draco hated seeing you so drained as you trained
But the look on your face when you got your first victory was amazing
You held that damn egg so high almost to say "LOOK AT WHAT I JUST DID!"
Draco was proud, being like "Guys, that's my girlfriend."
You trained even harder, working as best as you could to make it to the end
Course you were pissed when you discovered that your second trial was Draco basically chained to a lake
He assured you afterwards he was fine but you still were pissed.
Draco kissed your head, telling you that he was glad you helped him
You helped Harry along the way if you had information he didn't
After all, he wasn't supposed to be in that competition but he was.
You and Harry were friends for years but this brought you closer
The Yule ball was weird, certain adults congratulating you on your triumphs saying that you'd probably win
You absolutely hated Rita Skeeter
She would always try to catch you and Draco off guard but usually fail
She's the epitome of that one meme: "YOU TWO ARE HAVING SEX" "Damn Draco why didn't you say anything I would've put my book down"
The final trial came and you had this bad feeling.
You wanted to drop out the second you saw that maze.
"Draco, something is wrong, I can feel it." You murmured.
He frowned. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay." He assured.
You looked at him and then the maze.
You didn't realize this would be a fatal mistake.
You got to the end, discovering with Harry that the cup was a portkey.
You landed on your stomach and you grunted.
"What the fuck?" You mumbled.
Harry frowned looking at something.
It all happened so quickly, the flashes of light and then this feeling of electricity pulsing through you.
You were knocked to the ground and you just... You died
Harry couldn't believe it. Not you... No please not you.
He was crying the entire duel and carried you back with him when he got out of there
He was crying so hard as everyone was cheering, unaware of the situation
It wasn't until Draco sprinted down there that they realized something was wrong.
He let out this broken scream after seeing you and Cedric just stood there in shock
Fred and George both stood there shocked to see their best friend just... Gone.
Harry had to be pulled away from you and when Draco finally saw that face...
Oh God it was bad
Snape even had to turn away
Yes, you could be bothersome but damn it you were a kid.
You made those around you laugh and never left anyone truly alone.
Draco spent most of his time now in the hufflepuff common room
Cedric couldn't look at the common room the same, he always expected to see you sitting on the couch with a book saying hello
Fred and George towards the end of the year told Draco that he was welcome to come to their home for summer so he didn't have to deal with everything at home
To their surprise he actually came
Molly hated seeing everyone so drained
Fred and George would make people smile yes, but damn it it wasn't the same.
But Molly will never forget seeing Draco drinking a glass of water at the table in the middle of the night
She sat down with him and he just...
He could see Molly really wear off on you and the traits just... It matched up to a point he was crying.
She hugged him and told him that even though you're gone he still had family who loved him and would be there for him
But he just... He started talking to Molly about why it hurt him so much
"She told me Molly. She looked me in the eyes and told me that something felt wrong." He sobbed.
She hugged him tighter.
"If I just would've stopped her."
Fred and George the next year absolutely dreaded this bitch Umbridge
Draco hated her the most.
She even pretended to know what he was going through
"I understand you lost your friend last year but--"
"She was the love of my life. Do not dare bring her into this." Draco snapped.
Harry hated her even more, hearing her say things like "Look, your friend is just gone okay, she's not coming back"
Mcgonagall was not having that shit though and basically told her to shut the fuck up.
Hermione never thought that libraries could be so sad
But damn it every time she sat down she expected to see you next to her doodling or doing origami
Instead it was empty.
Arthur and Molly felt like they lost a child
Draco flat out refused to return home after discovering the alliance killed his GIRLFRIEND.
He joined the order and Sirius assured him that the rest of the order was taking your death hard
Remus was shocked and really upset. He never expected to lose a student like this.
Sirius remembered you, always trying to keep Harry from getting into trouble.
Tonks remembered you, you seemed so bubbly and cool
She also bonded with you for sharing the same house.
Everyone fought twice as hard because they lost their friend
Draco was more of a healer though, helping the crew after the battle.
When Sirius died he was there helping Harry because he felt like if he didn't you'd be pissed
Draco wore a ring of yours on a chain, never taking it off
As more deaths began to happen Draco just converted that pain into absolute anger
That was unleashed in the battle.
When Ginny wad nearly attacked he defended her, killing Bellatrix himself.
But it was what he said that caught everyone off guard.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"
Draco also ended up saving Fred too.
The amount of power and pain that Draco inflicted during the battle was so concerning.
He actually almost died.
He took a hit and passed out.
He could see you.
My God it was you. He missed you.
"Draco? No no. Hell no, it's way too soon for you." You said.
"Love... I just want to see you again." He said.
"... Draco I'm always with you. But this is not your time." You said softly.
He remembered your hand on his cheek and kissing it.
He woke up with Fred sighing in relief. "He's alive!" George said.
He swore as he looked towards the great hall's doors he could see you walking away.
When Harry died he was so angry. How many more people were they going to lose!?
Draco became absolutely unhinged and uhm
Killed Nagini.
And basically said "FUCK ALL OF THIS" when Harry came back as he punched a death eater, took back the wand and booked it.
The battle ended and the amount of lives saved by Draco was through the roof
He somehow saved remus and tonks dude.
This man really said "NOT TODAY MOTHER FUCKERS!"
He would come over every holiday to the Weasley's.
Draco would have a couple of moments where he could almost hear you laughing at a joke that Fred or George would make.
He was apart of this little family and they loved him
He would stand outside sometimes and just listen to the breeze.
Sometimes he could hear you if he listened hard enough
He had hard days where he just didn't want to function.
But his family had his back if anything went wrong.
Draco would work (willingly!) With Fred and George sometimes in the shop
But in the end he became a healer.
Mcgonagall would never forget the dent you left.
But something made draco's days a bit more bearable
You see: in the dungeon near the Hufflepuff common room there was a portrait of a kind girl who would talk to students.
It was you.
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thewidowsghost · 3 years
Text
The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 21
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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"Password?" the Fat Lady asks Harry and Ron as the two Second Years pause, glancing at each other.
"Er -" says Harry.
The two hadn't been able to get the new year's password, not having met a Gryffindor prefect yet, but help comes to the two almost immediately; Harry and Ron hear hurrying feet behind them and turn to see Hermione and (Y?n) dashing towards them.
"There you are! Flying a car!?" Hermione says. "You're surely expelled?"
"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assures her.
"You're not telling me you did fly here?" blusters Hermione.
"Skip the lecture," says Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."
"It's wattlebird," (Y/n) tells them.
"But that's not the point -" Hermione interupts, but her own words are cut short as the portrait of the Fat Lady swings open and there is a sudden storm of clapping. It looks like the whole of Gryffindor House is still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy arm chairs, waiting for Harry and Ron to arrive. Arms reach through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them and (Y/n) stepping in right after.
"Brilliant!" yells Lee Jordan and (Y/n) just rolls her eyes, moving across the common room to sit beside Ginny on one of the couches. The younger redhead is reading one of her school books, starting when (Y/n) sits down beside her but then she relaxes, going back to her book.
Ron is scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry can see one person who doesn't look happy at all. Percy is visble over the heads of some excited first years, and he seems to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudges Ron in the ribs and nods in Percy's direction; Ron gets the point at once.
"Got to get upstairs - bit tired," Ron says, and the two - Harry and Ron - start pushing their way towards the door on the other side of the room, which leads to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.
"Night," Harry calls to (Y/n) and Hermione, Hermione wearing a scowl like Percy's.
The two boys manage to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gain the peace of the staircase. They hurry up it, right to the top, and at last reach the door of their dormitory, which now has a sign on it saying Second Years.
. . .
(Y/n) meets her sister's gaze across the common room.
"See you," (Y/n) says to Ginny and the girl looks up, as though surprised that (Y/n) is even talking to her, but Ginny waves goodbye.
(Y/n) and Hermione make their way up to their own dormitory.
Marvel greet the two sisters at the door, her paws coming to rest on (Y/n)'s knees.
(Y/n) chuckles, picking up her cat and carrying her to her bed.
. . .
The next day, Harry barely grins once. The four long House tables are laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling - today, a dull, cloudy gray. Harry and Ron sit down at the Gryffindor table across from (Y/n) and Hermione. Hermione has her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug, (Y/n) glaring a hole in the book as she eats her toast, bacon, and eggs.
"Mail's due any minute - I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot," Neville says and (Y/n) grins at the boy beside her.
Harry had just started on his porridge when, sure enough, there is a rushing sound overhead, and a hundred or so owls stream in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounces off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray falls into Hermione's jug, spraying all of them with milk and feathers.
Hedwig lands on (Y/n)'s shoulder, a letter clasped in her beak. (Y/n) takes the letter from Harry's owl and she grins when she sees the handwriting.
(Y/n) gives Hedwig a piece of bacon and the snowy owl flies off.
(Y/n) zones out of the conversation as she reads the letter.
Hey, Sweetie!
I just was writing to ask how your last month with the Grangers' was, and how your trip to school was.
Everything's alright here, just missin' you a lot.
I've got Pepper to keep me company, but it's just not the same.
(Y/n) looks up from the letter as a loud roar fills the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.
" - STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE -"
Mrs. Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, make the pates and spoons rattle on the table, and echo deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall are swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sinks so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead can be seen.
" - LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED -"
Harry had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. Harry tries very hard to look as though he can't hear the voice that is making his eardrums throb.
" - ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED - YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."
A ringing silence falls around the hall. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, bursts into flames and curls into ashes. Harry and Ron sit stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laugh and, gradually, a babble of talk breaks out again.
Hermione closes Voyages with Vampires and looks down at the top of Ron's head.
“Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ron, but you —”
“Don’t tell me I deserved it,” snaps Ron.
Harry pushes his porridge away. His insides are burning with guilt.
But Harry has no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall is moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. (Y/n) takes hers and realizes that all her classes are basically the same, only that she had Potions with the Fourth Years.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) leave the castle together, cross the vegetable patch, and make for the greenhouses, where the magical plants are kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seems to think that Harry and Ron had been punished enough and is being perfectly friendly again.
As they near the greenhouses, the four see the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) had only just joined them when she comes striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Oh, hello there!" Lockhart calls, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is!"
"Who would?" (Y/n) asks and Lockhart glances at her before looking away.
"I just happen to have met several of theses exotic plants on my travels . . ." Lockhart ignores (Y/n).
"Greenhouse Three today, chaps!" says Professor Sprout, who is looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.
There is a murmur of interest - the Second Years had never worked in Greenhouse Three before. Professor Sprout takes a large key from her belt and unlocks the door. Harry catches a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling form the ceiling. (Y/n) and Harry are about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hands shoot out.
(Y/n) glares daggers at the man, her eyes flaring silver and Lockhart drops his hand off (Y/n)'s shoulder.
Lockhart looks more interested now as he examines (Y/n), his eyes flicking to the scar on her neck.
"Harry! Miss (L/n)! I've been wanting a word - you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"
Word Count: 1460 words
Taglist:
@big-galaxy-chaos
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casputin · 3 years
Text
Last Christmas
The morning was peaceful. Lily's boys were sleeping. James was snoring upstairs in their bed. The cat was in it's cat bed in the nursery. And in his crib was little Harry, almost five months old and sleeping soundly without a care in the world.
Voldemort was still out there, of course, still committing atrocities, and who knew what tomorrow might hold. But today was Christmas, and God knows, they were going to be allowed this one day.
Lily pulled the flour, cocoa powder and sugar from the cupboard. When they had first married, James had insisted on getting a house-elf, but Lily had soon put stop to any such ideas. Her parents hadn't had help raising her and Petunia, and she would raise a family the old fashioned way too. Of course she used magic from time to time, but Christmas was different. Today she was doing everything the Muggle way. That's why she was awake at four thirty to bake a Yule log.
By six o'clock Lily had peeled the carrots, parsnips and potatoes, which were now all sat in a big bowl covered with water. The turkey had been defeathered. The pigs were wrapped in their blankets. She was about to start whipping up some butter cream for the Yule log, when there was a mewing at her feet. The cat was up and clearly wanting to go out, so Lily opened the back door for him. A chill blasted into the warm kitchen and the cat dashed out into the snow. Thirty seconds later he was back inside and curled by the fire. Lily locked the door again.
Lily turned her Muggle wireless on. She liked to keep one foot in the world she came from.
'Grandma, we love you, grandma, we do ...'
Oh God, it was those whiny bloody schoolkids. She'd rather listen to John and Yoko's song than this rubbish. She'd rather listen to Cliff bloody Richard. She thought for a moment of her own mother, who'd always like Cliff Richard. This was the first Christmas in years that Lily hadn't bought her a Cliff Richard calendar for Christmas. Not even magic could fix ovarian cancer yet. At least she's lived to see her grandchildren.
Unfortunately she was the last thing holding Lily and Petunia together. Lily hadn't seen her sister since the funeral. Her son, Dudley, and Harry had got on well, but Petunia wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world and no matter how many letters Lily sent there was never any reply. Lily thought that Petunia expected her to have saved their mother with magic and blamed Lily for her death. Still she'd sent the Dursleys a present and a card. It was Christmas after all, a time for hope.
'So this is Christmas ...' sang the radio as if taunting Lily.
She turned it off.
There was movement upstairs. James was up. She heard him move, zombie-like, to the bathroom. There was a pause, followed by the flush of the toilet. Then - Thud! Thud! Thud! - he made his way down the stairs.
'Mmm ...' he yawned, 'something smells delicious. Ooh, buttercream!'
He stuck his finger in the chocolate buttercream and licked it.
'Needs more cocoa,' he said as Lily slapped him.
'It's not finished yet,' she scolded, 'and it's for tonight, so bugger off. Make yourself useful and put the kettle on, I'm gasping for a cuppa!'
'Yes, sir!' James said saluting. 'And Merry Christmas to you too! What time is everyone getting here?'
'I've told everyone midday, but Wormy always gets here early and Sirius'll turn up whenever he wants to.'
'Yeah, I expect so.'
As James finished making the tea there was a tap on the window. An owl carrying the Daily Prophet was there. James let it in and paid it. The owl flew away again.
'They've reported on Frank's raid the other night,' he sighed as he rifled through the paper. 'We knew it would get out sooner or later. It's that bloody Skeeter woman again - I'd love to know how she finds these things out.'
Lily finished slathering the log in it's buttercream. There was some left in the bowl. She took it, with the spoon, over to James and sat on his lap.
'Merry Christmas,' she said, kissing him tenderly. 'Here, just for you.' She scooped the buttercream onto her spoon and moved it towards James's mouth, which he opened wide with glee. At the last second she redirected it's trajectory into her own mouth. James pushed her off his lap and she fell to the floor, the bowl and spoon clattering, Lily herself bent over in laughter. The cat hissed at them, which only made Lily laugh more. James pounced on top of her, and covered her face in kisses.
'That's it,' he said, keeping her pinned between his thighs, and readying his fingers to tickle her, 'you're for it now!'
'Don't you dare!' Lily screamed.
'Too late,' laughed James, 'I'm going to get you!'
Suddenly they heard crying from upstairs.
'Saved in the nick of time,' James said, standing up and helping Lily to her feet. 'I see you're already his favourite. But, as you're busy making a mess in here, I suppose that I'll go sort him out.'
He kissed her forehead and Lily watched as he sauntered out of the kitchen, wiggling his hips. Yes today was Christmas, and it would be a good day.
*
As predicted Sirius had turned up when he wanted to, on this occasion it was ten o'clock. Lily didn't mind. They had already opened their presents - including a surprise from her sister (a rather ugly vase, but it was the thought that counts, and to Lily represented hope that all was not lost between them) - and Harry kept the two of them busy whilst Lily finished off the dinner.
'He's already looking like James,' Sirius said as he fetched a couple of Butterbeers from the kitchen. 'He's got the Potter hair, that's for sure! Don't even attempt to tame that.'
'Oh, don't worry about that, James has already warned me,' Lily said as she shoved the Turkey into the oven.
'Your eyes though,' Sirius said.
'Yeah,' said Lily softly. Not that she ever thought of them as hers though. They'd always be her mother's eyes in her mind.
Peter was also early, though only by half an hour. The cat, who was always so playful with Sirius, had to be shut away upstairs and for some reason he always hissed at Peter and tried to scratch him. He knew he was a rat, James always said.
Remus turned up at midday on the dot. It was quarter to twelve before James finally went round to Bathilda's. Mind you at a hundred and seven Lily could forgive her forgetfulness.
Dinner was served at one o'clock exactly. They had opened their wizard crackers. Lily wore a sombrero; James had a Dunce's cap, which everyone agreed suited him; Sirius had a pink and white striped nightcap; Remus had a multi-coloured, glittery Top Hat; Peter wore a red and yellow cap with a green propeller on the top, which spun madly everytime he laughed; and Bathilda had a pink stetson with the words 'Kiss Me Quick' strewn across it and mistletoe hanging from the front, which made her laugh no end. And she had wasted no time kissing all the young men at the table. Lily was almost jealous of the snog she got back from Sirius.
'You don't mind if he leaves the bike overnight, do you, Lily?' Peter asked when Sirius finally came up for air, which made everyone laugh once more.
Every last morsel of food was gobbled down, which Lily was very happy with, and whilst they let their dinner go down they played the Who Am I game with chocolate frog cards that they fixed to their foreheads. James had a very easy time guessing Dumbledore, Lily had it a little tougher with Uric the Oddball. Sure they'd learnt about him at Hogwarts, but she's promptly forgotten anything Professor Binn's had ever said, on any subject, pretty much as soon as the lesson was over. Bathilda had the hardest card though. It took her almost a quarter of an hour to figure out she was herself, despite the fact that no-one managed to keep a straight face throughout her questioning. Her own portrait on the Chocolate Frog card kept rolling her eyes throughout.
After the Christmas pudding (which Lily set alight with Fire Whiskey for a brighter and more interesting flame than brandy had ever given her mother) they had their coffee, and reminisced about Christmases past. Sirius remembered his first at Hogwarts - his first away from his family, and his first with the other Marauders - very fondly. Peter told of when he was six and had accidentally created a barrage of snowballs that he pelted his father with. His parents were very proud as it was the first time he showed any sign of magic. Up to that point they thought he might be a squib. After Lily, James and Remus offered their favourite memories as well, Bathilda, sherry in hand, regaled them all with tales of Christmases long ago.
That was the first time Lily found out that their cottage had once been home to the Dumbledore family.
'Oh, yes, dear,' said Bathilda, 'they kept themselves to themselves back then though. Kendra was a very proud and private woman. But I shouldn't say any more ... I'll have another sherry though, James, if there's one going?'
Soon Bathilda was tottering back home, and, once Harry was tucked in his cot, Lily joined the others by the Living Room fire and they reminisced about their schooldays. Whenever anyone brought up anything to do with the Order Lily stopped them in their tracks, and reminded them that today was Christmas, and as such, there was to be no talk about the bad things.
Eventually Peter left, and soon followed by Remus.
'When're you going to tell him, Moony?' Lily asked Remus as she let him out.
'Tell who what?' said Remus, feigning confusion. But Lily knew he knew exactly what she meant. She wasn't going to let him get away with it tonight though. It was Christmas. Besides, she'd had one too many Snowballs.
'When are you going to tell Sirius you're in love with him?'
She saw Remus blushing in the streetlight, though he tried to hide it.
'It's not that simple,' Remus said.
'Course it is,' said Lily. 'You love him and he loves you. What could be more simple than love?'
'Oh, if only love were so simple,' said Remus sadly. 'You're so lucky. With James I mean. And Harry.'
Remus leant forward and kissed her on the cheek. She felt a warm tear as their faces touched.
'Goodnight, Lily. Thank you for a wonderful day. I'll see you in the New Year.'
With a final, sad Merry Christmas, Remus left, and Lily, who had been up for almost seventeen hours now, kissed her husband goodnight and made her own way to bed. No doubt she would find James and Sirius asleep on the sofa when she made her way back downstairs in the morning. She wouldn't have it any other way. It had been a perfect Christmas, and she could hardly wait until the next one.
If you like this, find more here!
And a very, merry Christmas to all!!!
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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years
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Written In The Stars CVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)
A/N: Tomorrow I’m posting a hidden moment about what happens once the kids are at school and two former marauders are left alone. Stay tuned! -Danny
Words: 4,225 
Series’ Masterlist
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Listen to: ‘Better Off’ -by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler
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Chapter Six: Hidden Nightmares.
"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away toward Sirius and Lupin.
"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you..."
Mel took her friend away from Moody in case he decided to continue trying to scare him to death.
"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks as she walked past them. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."
"Like what?" said Ginny.
"Like the ability to behave myself."
"Same reason why Mel didn't get a badge," Emily walked past her daughter. "I hope this works as a lesson..."
"Sure does, now I know I'm doing something right," Mel smirked.
"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked.
"No one would have made me a prefect! I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."
"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," said Lupin. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."
"What about my dad?"
"Matthew was a brilliant student but Dumbledore knew that giving him the badge would've been like given us green light to go around doing whatever we pleased," Sirius grinned.
"Again, same the reason why Dumbledore didn't give you a badge," Lupin smiled.
"You really think I would let my friends do mischief without any consequences?" Mel feigned indignation.
"Yes," The three adults replied.
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"Well, I think I'll sort out that boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? 'Night, dears."
Mel walked into Harry just as he was getting up and she stumbled backwards.
"Sorry," He said quickly.
"It's fine..."
"You all right?" Moody asked them.
"Yeah, fine."
"Lovely dinner," Mel smiled tensely.
"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," He told them.
From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph.
"Original Order of the Phoenix," growled Moody. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one... Thought people might like to see it."
Harry took the photograph and Mel leaned closer to take a look.
"There's me," said Moody. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom — Poor devils, better dead than what happened to them... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... shift aside there–
That's Edgar Bones... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young... Caradoc Dearborn vanished six months after this, we never found his body... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes... budge along, budge along... That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke..."
It was the first time she'd ever seen of her grandfather. He looked a lot like Dumbledore, but he lacked the warm gaze and the fancy robes. He had the same hair colour as her though, and there was a similarity between his nose and her dad's.
"That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you! Eh?"
Five people were staring up at them: Petter Pettigrew, Lily and James Potter, and her own parents.
"That's great," She tried to sound enthusiastic. "Look at that..."
"Yeah," Harry's voice sounded heavy. "Er... listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my..."
"What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" Sirius asked loudly from the table.
Harry left so quickly she almost thought he'd disapparated, she understood though, that picture was full of ghosts, and for some reason, she felt kind of responsible for them– maybe Harry felt that way too, after all, it was him Voldemort was after...
The adults surrounded the table and stared at the picture, there were tons of quiet exclamations and nostalgic chuckles as they examined it, but what made her leave the room was the way she knew her mother and Sirius had finally found their friends' faces staring up at them, she could see something dark and heavy falling on their features.
Mel didn't feel like sticking around to hear stories about when they were all young and alive, when Peter was still Peter and not the traitor that had gotten his friends killed. It was stupid to remember something they couldn't have back.
She was in the main hall when she heard someone crying.
"No! No... riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS !"
Mel ran up the stairs and found Harry looking at Mrs Weasley... She was sobbing above a second Harry, only that this one was dead.
'Boggart', Mel thought.
"Harry, we need to get help–"
"Mrs Weasley, just get out of here!" Harry's eyes fixed on the vision of his own body. "Let someone else —"
"What's going on?" Lupin rushed in followed by Sirius and Emily. Moody was right behind them."Riddikulus!"
Mrs Weasley wept harder.
"Molly– Molly, don't... Molly, it was just a boggart," Lupin patted her head gently. "Just a stupid boggart..."
"I see them d-d-dead all the time! All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it..."
She had been dreaming the same thing that summer– hell, her boggart had been the same thing years before that! Seeing it again that night caught her off guard. A thousand different images of Harry trapped in the cemetery came to her, the pain she'd felt that night, the memory of Cedric's body laying on the grass...
She tried to get out of the room as fast as possible.
"D-d-don't tell Arthur– I d-d-don't want him to know... Being silly... Harry, I'm so sorry, what must you think of me? Not even able to get rid of a boggart..."
"Don't be stupid," said Harry, sounding impressively calm.
"I'm just s-s-so worried– Half the f-f-family's in the Order, it'll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this... and P-P-Percy's not talking to us... What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?"
"Molly, that's enough," said Lupin. "This isn't like last time. The Order is better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to — Oh, Molly, come on, it's about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time, you weren't in the Order then, you don't understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one..."
"Don't worry about Percy," said Sirius. "He'll come round. It's a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology..."
"And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," Lupin looked up to Emily and smiled a bit, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?"
"Certainly not!" Emily kneeled beside her, hugging her by the shoulders. "Not after all you've done for us! After seeing how much you care about Harry! You're one of the best friends I've had in a long time, I would never abandon your children..."
Harry turned and locked eyes with Mel. He had a distraught expression on his face as he watched her cover her mouth, struggling to breathe.
One time when she was six, Mel had to be taken to the nurse because some kids cornered her in the playground and she lost it; a teacher carried her out. When her mother arrived they told her Mel had suffered a panic attack.
A panic attack wasn't exactly a good omen nor the best way to spend her last night before going back to school, but she had no control over it.
"Deep breaths, Mel..." Harry muttered, quickly making his way towards her. "It's okay–"
The boy tried to touch her and that stirred her into action. Mel slapped his hand out of the way and ran out before someone could stop her. She ran up all the way to Buckbeak's layer and she locked herself there until her crying stopped.
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"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" Mrs Weasley yelled.
Mel let out a pained groan, her head was pounding after last night and all she wanted was to get to the train so she could take a nap. Mrs Black's portrait was howling, but no one tried to close the curtains since the house was loud with voices coming from every floor, all gathering their stuff before leaving.
"I'm dying," The girl leaned on her mother's shoulder. The woman ran her fingers through her hair tenderly.
"You had a rough night. Been years since you had one of those..."
"It was the stupid boggart," She muttered. "I'm okay now. I'll see Erick, so that's kind of cool..."
"You and Harry haven't talked, then?"
"Mum..."
"I'm not trying to force you–"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"
A dog ran into the hall, looking rather lively.
"Oh honestly... well, on your own head be it!"
Mrs Weasley, Emily, Mel, Harry and Sirius all left the house together.
"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked.
"She's waiting for us just up here," said Mrs Weasley.
"Wotcher, guys," Tonks -disguised as an old woman- winked at them. "Better hurry up, hadn't we?"
"I know, I know... but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again... but Fudge wouldn't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic..."
Sirius was having the time of his life though, running around chasing pigeons and barking loudly. Mel and Harry laughed at his antics, Emily rolled her eyes and mumbled something about him being a child.
As they walked through the streets watching Sirius chase cats and go crazy with the poor birds, she felt Harry glancing at her from time to time. Mel knew he only wanted to help, and perhaps he was a little hurt about the way she'd reacted last night. However, she was far from even acknowledging that she'd cried in front of so many people.
"I felt it, you know?" Harry said when no one was paying attention. "Your panic attack..."
"I figured," Mel said numbly. "It's the lifeline... doesn't matter, I have it under control."
"I could've helped," He insisted. "When we were little–"
"We're not little anymore," She replied sternly. "You handle your stuff, I handle mine. That's what we agreed on."
Harry's jaw clenched, he didn't speak after that.
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It felt like a type of rebirth when she crossed the platform and found herself in front of the scarlet train.
"I hope the others make it in time," said Mrs Weasley.
"Nice dog, guys!" called Lee Jordan.
"Thanks, Lee," said Harry.
Sirius made a show of himself, acting as the perfect puppy.
"Mel, come here for a moment," Emily drew her away from the group, looking anxious.
"What is it?"
"I didn't say anything until now because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable during your stay but... oh, well..."
She noticed how her mother glanced at Sirius, who was rolling around at Harry's feet.
"Mum... Are you and Sirius... a thing?"
Her mother hesitated.
"I know you've noticed how... I mean, we've... we're not exactly together."
"Oh," She frowned. "Why not?"
"What?"
"If you want to be a couple, then be one."
"I... you... you're not upset?"
Mel gave her a small smile. "You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy. If being with Sirius gives you that, I have nothing against it. He's a good man– bit stubborn, but he treats you well, right?"
"He was always a good friend..."
"I hope all goes well, then."
The woman stared as if she'd mistaken Mel for someone else.
"You have more of Matthew than you could ever have of me, you know?" Emily beamed. "I'm thankful for that."
"Sirius would be an idiot if he rejects you, to be honest."
Her mother laughed.
"Don't get your hopes up about this, though..."
"I trust you," Mel brushed it off, hugging her one last time before going back to the group.
Five minutes later Lupin was wishing her a safe journey. Mel held onto him tightly, his scent filling her lungs.
"I'm going to miss you lots," She mumbled against his chest.
"You'll see me soon," Lupin rubbed her back. "Now, just because you weren't made a prefect doesn't mean you're allowed to misbehave. Make us proud."
Sirius ran up to her and crashed against her legs, she kneeled and hugged him as well.
"I'll miss you too, Snuffles... look after my mother while I'm gone, okay?"
He barked, snuggling his face closer to hers.
"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin told the rest of the teenagers. "You too, Harry. Be careful."
"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody. "And don't forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."
"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks. "We'll see you soon, I expect."
"Quick, quick," said Mrs Weasley as the whistle blew a second time. "Write... Be good... If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... Onto the train, now, hurry..."
For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"
"See you!" Harry yelled from the door.
The black dog chased the train barking madly until they turned, then he vanished.
"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione murmured.
"Oh lighten up, he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke," Ron shook his head.
"Well, can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. Are you coming with us, Lady?" Fred asked.
"Maybe later," She shrugged.
"All right, see you later!"
"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked.
"Er..."
"We're — well — Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.
Suddenly Mel felt really bad about not going with Fred and George.
"Oh," Harry tensed next to her. "Right. Fine."
"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said the girl. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."
"Fine– Well, we... might see you later, then."
"Yeah, definitely. It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather — but we have to — I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."
"I know you're not," said Harry.
"I'll tell Erick you say hi, Mel," Hermione offered, thinking that would ease her mind.
"Brilliant," She said without much excitement.
"Come on," Ginny spoke, Mel felt immense relief as she turned to look at the girl, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."
"Right," said Harry, and he looked as pleased as her.
After a while of silent walking, they ran into Neville, which was even better, more people to talk to.
"Hi, guys– Hi, Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."
"What are you talking about?" said Ginny. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —"
"I don't want to disturb anyone..."
"Don't be silly," Ginny chuckled. "She's all right."
They all followed her inside.
"Hi, Luna! Is it okay if we take these seats?"
The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Harry knew at once why Neville had chosen to pass this compartment by. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.
"Thanks," said Ginny.
In the middle of all the movement of putting away trunks and pets, Mel and Harry somehow found themselves seated together. The girl thought it'd look suspicious if she were to move now, it would confirm that she was actively avoiding him.
"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.
"Yes. Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter."
"I know I am," said Harry, frowning slightly.
Her eyes then moved to the next person, which happened to be her.
"You're a Dumbledore."
"Yeah, people keep saying that," Mel said.
Luna moved to Neville. "And I don't know who you are."
"I'm nobody," He said.
"No you're not," said Ginny. "Neville Longbottom — Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," sang Luna.
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"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville asked them.
"Another Remembrall?" Harry teased.
"No– I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago... No, look at this... Mimbulus mimbletonia."
"Sick!" Mel beamed. "Er- in a good way..."
"It's really, really rare," said Neville excitedly. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."
"If you do manage, I'd love to have one," Mel eyed the plant with interest.
Harry did a strange noise next to her and she stared back, daring him to speak.
"Does it — er — do anything?" He asked, glancing nervously at her.
"Loads of stuff! It's got an amazing defensive mechanism — hold Trevor for me..."
Neville put the toad on Harry's hands. Luna was staring again.
Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.
Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, dark-green jets of it; they hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna Lovegood's magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat, but Harry, whose hands had been busy preventing the escape of Trevor, received a face full. It smelled like rancid manure.
Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.
"S-sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before... Didn't realize it would be quite so... Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor.
Mel cackled, cleaning her face without an ounce of grumpiness.
"That was amazing!"
The door of their compartment slid open abruptly.
"Oh... hello, Harry. Um... bad time?" Cho stared at the lot with an anxious expression.
"Oh... hi," Harry quickly tried to clean his face.
"It's a terrible time," Mel said brightly, "We stink."
"Um... well... just thought I'd say hello... 'bye then."
Cho Chang was blushing when she closed the door. She heard Harry groan and fall back on his seat.
"Never mind," said Ginny. "Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!"
"Sorry," said Neville timidly.
"Don't be, that was really interesting to watch," Mel smiled.
Neville blushed at her comment.
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"I'm starving," Ron walked in, Mel quickly made room between her and Harry, which he took without even noticing.
"Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House," said Hermione. "Boy and girl from each."
"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron.
"Malfoy," replied Harry.
" 'Course," Ron made a face.
"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione to Mel. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..."
"Cheating of course," Mel shrugged.
"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.
"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," said Ron.
"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," said Hermione. "Oh! Erick seemed fine, Mel– couldn't talk to him because of Malfoy, of course..."
"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron explained, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something..."
"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!"
"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all."
"So you're going to descend to his level?"
"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."
"For heaven's sake, Ron —"
"He's not being unfair, is he?" Mel defended him. "If anyone deserves detention, that's them..."
"I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing," Ron then pretended to be the Slytherin. "I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon's... backside..."
Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna Lovegood. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. She laughed so hard that her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor.
"That was funny!"
Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. Utterly nonplussed, he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on Ron's face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna Lovegood, who was rocking backward and forward, clutching her sides.
"Are you taking the mickey?"
"Baboon's... backside!"
"Hey, Lovegood," Mel grinned. "We're going to be great friends..."
"Can I have a look at this?" Harry asked Luna. He was staring at the magazine she'd dropped. "Mel, have a look at this, will you?"
He was showing her an article over Ron's shoulder.
SIRIUS - Black As He's Painted?
Notorious Mass Murderer OR Innocent Singing Sensation?
For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard. Black's audacious escape from Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic. None of us has ever questioned that he deserves to be recaptured and handed back to the dementors.
BUT DOES HE?
"What is this?" Mel asked, her voice slightly shaking with contained laughter.
"Hang on," Harry said distractedly. "This one's about Fudge.."
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, denied that he had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts, when he was elected Minister of Magic five years ago. Fudge has always insisted that he wants nothing more than to "cooperate peacefully" with the guardians of our gold.
BUT DOES HE?
Sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Fudge's dearest ambition is to seize control of the goblin gold supplies and that he will not hesitate to use force if need be.
"It wouldn't be the first time, either," said a Ministry insider. "Cornelius 'Goblin-Crusher' Fudge, that's what his friends call him..."
"Anything good in there?" asked Ron.
"Of course not," said Hermione. "The Quibbler's rubbish, everyone knows that."
"Excuse me," said Luna. "My father's the editor."
Mel had to bit her lip to not make a sound.
"I — oh. Well... it's got some interesting... I mean, it's quite..."
"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna took back the magazine and buried her face behind it.
The door to the compartment opened again.
"What?" Harry snapped at Malfoy.
"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention... You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."
"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."
The group laughed. Mel felt something crawling up her chest, ready to pounce.
"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione.
"I seem to have touched a nerve... Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."
"Get out!" said Hermione sharply.
Mel's heart skipped a beat.
Dogging.
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chayacat · 3 years
Text
Devil’s Sweet Star (14)
Fandom: Dead by Daylight
Ghostface x Female Reader  
Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  
***
Rage... A sudden outburst of this emotion can turn a man into a real beast. A lot of things can make you get angry. Most often, it’s when someone is attacking your loved ones. And when you end up finding those responsible... let's say doctors have a hard time repairing some of the body members.
But when rage takes a narcissistic and sadistic assassin like Danny... Well, it's like you're treating of beast... A beast. He had spent the whole night looking for the one who stabbed you, thinking and imagining how he would take care of his "guest". He wasn't angry because that man wanted to steal the show by killing you, no... He was DRUNK with rage because that filthy bastard wanted to KILL you. If there's someone who has to scare you... if there is someone who has to hurt you... if there is someone who has to kill you... That's him. him and him ONLY.
He had fallen asleep in his office, passing his rage on the photo of McKellan who was unrecognizable, the knife planted on McKellan's forehead. He was lying on the couch with his glasses resting on the little table next to him, a plaid serving as a blanket. He moaned slightly and moved a little in all directions. Like when a child has a nightmare. And he had one. He remembered the long corridors, the nurses and doctors who passed through the rooms, the patients who were lying in their beds, others in wheelchairs and.... That door. This room: number 012. That's where she was... that's where she...
“Danny...”  
He awoke startling, drops of sweat beading on his forehead, panting as if he had run a marathon. The simple fact of having seen the façade of the hospital in which you are... brought him back bad memories. He thought he would never go back, he never wanted to go back... and yet... He got up, left his office to go into the bathroom, and put some water on his face. He needed to wake up. As he wiped his face with a towel, his phone rang. Mattew or Melina, probably.
“Hello?” Danny said, his voice sounded tired.  
“Hi Jed...it’s me Mattew... I know it's a silly question after what happened yesterday but...how are you? You seem tired. I don't mind you, do I?” said Mattew embarrassed.
“You never bother me, you know that. I... let's say I had better nights... I'm worried about (Y/N) . Even though I know she's safe there. How about you?”
“I didn't sleep better than you if it makes you feel better... Neither did Melina. The boss called me... you don't need to come to work if you don't have the strength. You can work quietly at home until you feel able to come back.” replied Mattew.  
“That's nice of him... I'll be back on Monday morning... I think I'll take advantage of this weekend to... to clear my mind. And go and see her. Until she got out of the hospital.” said Danny, rubbing his eyes.
“Do you feel able to go on your own? Do you want us to come with you? Because yesterday you were completely... paralyzed at the thought of getting inside.
If only you knew the reason, poor man...that's way too personal for Danny to talk about. But if he ever has to talk about it... there is one person, whom he "judges" worthy of being aware of.... It's you. Of course, he'll have to change two or three little things.
“Jed?” ask Mattew on the other line.  
“Sorry, I was somewhere else. I promised her I would go and see her. Then I'd go. Don't worry about me. I think I'll be fine on my own. I’m sorry but, I have things to do before I go to see her. Say hello to everyone for me. And don't forget to tell the boss.” respond Danny.
“Sure! Rest well Jeddy! See you Monday then!”
Danny hung up before returning to his office, putting on his glasses and removing the knife from his hunting board. He observed the photo, at least what was left of it, a bad look, but a crazy smile on his face. Oh, when he finally gets his hands on him... He's going to torture him like never before. A slow, painful, unbearable agony, before slaughtering him, tearing his skin, making him so unrecognizable that no one will be able to approach his corpse without immediately throwing up on him. He will no longer have the skin on his bones... it will only be a putrefaction heap.
Mike was a work of art... But McKellan will become a masterpiece. A bloody, twisted, disturbing masterpiece. The most beautiful trace of his existence, the most beautiful signature of Ghostface. And when it's over... He will ensure that no one comes near you. As I said, Danny does not share what belongs to him. And he intends to make it clear.
It's amazing that we found the headless body of the dealer but not the body of Mike as well as the photos... and his basement of fantasies. Danny had worked on it more than on the other and he felt a bit vexed. But sooner or later...someone will find him. And with the bloody arrows Danny left on the walls, he's not going to get lost. It's so nice of him that he surprises himself.  
Well... it's time for him to get ready, he said he'd come to see you, and he will. But first he had to go to the police station, witnessing what happened, the police asked him to come to hear his testimony as well as the description of your attacker. If only they knew who they were going to welcome, just thinking they were getting a poor witness... It's no longer taunting the police at this level, it's this openly mocking them.
And then he's going to do something he hasn't done in years... buy a bouquet of flowers. For you. Even if the beauty of the flowers will never surpass yours. His sweet little angel. What kind of friend would "Jed" be to you if he came with nothing? Of course, you wouldn't mind, but for Danny who has studied other people's stupid behaviours, bringing flowers is always well seen. And "Jed" is supposed to behave like that.
He tied his hair, put his glasses back in place, took his bag and left his apartment to go to his van. It’s not the desire that he lacked to go sneak into your apartment but, the police of this small town are not very friendly when the person they summon doesn’t respect the schedules. And for the moment he must not draw suspicions on him. Brush the police in the direction of the hair during the day, provoke them and humiliate them at night. So far, that's what he's always done. And that always worked.  
The police station... hmph. For Danny, getting in is like letting the wolf into the sheepfold, or a demon going to heaven. How ironic... But funny. He pushed the door and went to the reception to show his summons. The policeman showed him the way and knocked on the door of the man who was handling the case: Inspector Daniel Wilhelm. What a surprise... Wilhem was also in charge of the Ghostface murders... It's a small world. Or he did it on purpose.
“Inspector Wilhem...” said Danny with a smirk.
“Jed Olsen... Of all the witnesses who could have been there... You must have been in the heap. Are you going to follow me until I die?”
“I can turn the question over to you... But you didn't summon me to talk about coincidences and fate, did you?”  
“No. Take a seat. Coffee?” said Wilhelm turning his back on Danny to serve himself a cup of coffee.
“No thanks.”  
Wilhelm relocated to his office, taking out all the necessary to record the testimony and called a graphic designer for the description of the suspect. Danny told everything that had happened this morning, down to the smallest detail. Wilhelm asked questions as he went to see if there was a special connection between you and your attacker. Then came the portrait of the aggressor that Danny described without any problem, this idiot had his face completely uncovered... Amateur. The whole thing lasted many hours and once the graphic designer left and the deposition signed, Danny put his stuff in his bag.
“You said you suspect a certain... McKellan to be the instigator of this... attempted murder. Do you have any proof of that? Because such an accusation can cost you dearly if you're wrong, Olsen.” said Wilhelm looking at the file and then Danny.
“Well, he threatened her for a simple order that she could not carry out; And I know that this man is not the type to stop at the legal means to get satisfaction.” said Danny without looking away from the inspector.
“Always sticking your nose all over Olsen.... You're worse than a weasel. It will also cost you dearly one day …"  
“If it's to allow people to discover the truth down to the smallest detail, even the most disturbing, I don't give a shit about dying, Wilhelm...”
“Tsk...By the way Mike Harris' name must be familiar to you, right? It seems to me that he was working with you... Do you know if he had any connection to drug trafficking?”  
“I don't get myself into the lives of my colleagues... but recently I learned that he had big addiction problems, which would explain why he went after me and my colleagues... Why this question?”
“We found the headless body of a guy last night... autopsy revealed a high level of cocaine... and apparently after doing some research, we discover that he was a dealer and Mike was one of his regular clients. But if you don't know... I'm not going to hold you any longer. You can leave Olsen.”
Danny got up and left the police station after shaking Wilhelm's hand. Once outside, he insulted Wilhelm in a low voice before getting in the car and going to buy flowers. Then he drove to Zanesville Hospital. He went to the reception where he asked for your room number. He remained frozen for a few seconds when the young woman in the reception told him that you were in room 012...They say history repeats itself but... that's too much.
What are the chances that two people from his entourage, two women, will end up in the hospital, in the same room? knowing that this happens years after she... Danny clutched the bouquet in his hands and inhaled deeply before knocking on the door of your room. He waited for you to allow him to enter, to open the door and face you, his eternal angelic smile on his lip.
“Jed! I’m glad to see you!”  you said happily, as if nothing had happened.
“Hey...” he starts before giving the bouquet of flowers. “I'm not an expert in flowers... and I don't know your tastes but... I thought you'd like iris flowers.”
“Hawn you’re so sweet...you don’t have to Jed...Thank you. Don’t stay there, take a sit!” you said, taking gently the bouquet from his hands. “So, how are you? I must have worried a lot of people... I'm sorry.”  
“For what? To have been stabbed? Even if you didn't do anything or say nothing?  you don't have to apologize. And... I should ask you the question: How are you? What did the doctors say?”  
“I was lucky... the doctors took me just in time. The blade didn’t hit any vital points fortunately. Normally tomorrow or the day after tomorrow I could go out. But I'll have to be careful and not make too much effort. I owe you my life... Once again.”
“Good...You don’t have to thank me; you would have done the same for me. Mattew and Melina told me to say hello to you. they didn't sleep better than me.”
You talk for hours. Laughing about everything and nothing. That laugh... Danny could hear it for hours. And see you with that smile... that angel's smile. it reminded him of those same moments he spent with her. History repeats itself... but compared to her... You're alive and you're going out. But all good things have an end. And the time for Danny to leave came. He got up and prepared to leave when he felt your hand holding his arm.
“You... Will you be back tomorrow? I'd love to talk with you again.” you ask like a little child.  
“...Of course. Rest well.” he said, heading to the door before he stops and turn to you. “By the way who was this man...Parkson?”  
“Oh...He...He’s my banker! I told him I would call him when I was settled and ...as it had been a while, he preferred to travel in person to see me. I know it's not common but... He's a little weird. But I can trust him. Just like I trust you.” you respond with a smile.
Danny nodded and, waving his hand, he left the room and then the hospital. He still had a lot... A lot to do. He was not going to go after your attacker, knowing that Inspector Wilhelm had his robot portrait... But a little visit to McKellan's house couldn't hurt. And he's going to leave him a little passing gift. Nothing very extravagant... a little bloody on the edges... But something simple. or maybe go back to the traditional method of phone calls?
In any case, don’t face a man until you know all the details about him. A little surveillance in the middle of the night, that's Danny's favorite activity. He got into his van and went home to pick up his other bag. The one that contained his outfit and his mask. No Ghostface for you tonight... Too bad. But don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to make up for lost time when you're in your apartment.  
He picked up his mail, went back to his apartment, put his belongings in his office and then picked up his other bag to leave. He went back on the road to McKellan's house, he had carefully searched for his place of residence, which frankly is not very hard to find. Look for Roseville's most eye-catching home and you'll know this is where McKellan lives. Quite isolated from everything and everyone which did not surprise Danny, when you saw the oversized ego of this rich rotten up to the marrow.
He parked in the little corner of the forest that hid his van to perfection, put on his outfit and mask before getting out of the vehicle. He observed the building that stood in the distance, the mad look and a bad smile on his face. Tonight, is not your time McKellan... You're lucky...
But soon...The devil will come and get his prize...
Your screams and your death.
***
(And it’s done! My head hurts as if a monkey had taken me for a bongo. But everything's fine! I'll be able to rest on my weekend! hoping you'll like this chapter! See ya!)
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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years
Text
When I Have You - Chapter 8
Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer.
Follow the Instagram account ‘whenihaveyou.romione’ for extra stuff, including writing challenges and dtiys stuff. 
------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8
Ron had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Not only was he on a date with Hermione, she had taken him to Muggle London, and they were now standing out the front of a building that she called a cinema. 
She'd tried explaining exactly what it was to him, and what he got from it was sitting in front of one giant, talking portrait for two hours, and he was supposed to enjoy it. 
Well, he was going to enjoy it, but it wasn't going to be because of this giant talking portrait thing. Hermione had dressed up for the occasion, and while he considered her amazing all the time, he really couldn't help but admire just how beautiful she looked under the street lights in Muggle London. And he'd told her as such. It felt strange saying it, but she seemed to appreciate the compliment. 
"Are you ready?" Hermione asked. "It starts in ten minutes."
Ron nodded. He'd probably never be ready for an introduction into the Muggle world — not completely — but he supposed he'd have to get used to it if he wanted to be with Hermione for the long haul. And he wanted that more than anything (though he wouldn't dare tell her that yet). 
"You just do all the talking. I don't want to look like an idiot."
They walked slowly into the building, and Ron's first thought was of his dad and how this would have been some kind of heaven for Arthur Weasley. He'd probably be unable to contain himself with all the new things that were here to play with. 
Hermione made her way to a counter where a young Muggle girl was standing. There were lots of sweets around, things Ron had never seen before. He looked at them, stunned. 
Hermione purchased the tickets using Muggle money (it amazed him that she knew exactly what she was doing), and then they left the counter and stood by a door with the number 3 plastered across it. 
"I think you'll really like the sweets here, Ron," Hernione whispered after a moment. "I'll be back." And before he could ask her not to leave him alone, she disappeared again, digging into her small handbag for more money. 
It slightly bothered him that he wasn't able to contribute to their very first date, but at the same time, he knew that in the coming months he'd be able to make up for it. He'd sent a reply to Kingsley that afternoon to accept his offer. Training as an Auror was a paid job, and for the first time ever, Ron was going to have his very own money. He was excited at the idea, but also relieved. Harry had always had a lot of money, and despite having Muggle parents, Hermione never seemed to be short of Galleons either (apparently her parents were paid well in their Muggle jobs). Now, he could join them. He could even contribute to things like he'd never been able to before. 
While Hermione was gone, Ron took the moment to take in his surroundings without looking like he didn't belong there. It was a fascinating place, this cinema. He doubted he'd ever learn how everything worked, but he supposed he could try. Hermione was proud of her Muggle parentage, and it would mean a lot to her if he tried to embrace aspects of it. He just hoped she would be patient with him. 
She returned a little later carrying lots of food he'd never seen before. His eyes drifted from her to the food and then back again. 
"You'll like it," she promised, beaming. "I tried to pick things that are similar to what you're used to."
To Ron, none of it looked the slightest bit similar to the abundance of wizarding sweets he was used to, but he nodded. There was a queue forming out the front of the doors they were supposed to be entering. The people around them were talking eagerly about the anticipation of this ‘movie’ they would be seeing, and Ron listened in on the conversations with wide eyes. 
Soon, the doors opened and people began filing in slowly. Ron took some of the food from Hermione to help her carry it, remembering that she couldn’t just use her wand to levitate everything in front of her. Reaching the front of the line, Hermione handed over the tickets to a worker and she led them to their seats. 
This cinema reminded Ron very much of the Great Hall, but smaller… and with the long House tables removed. And rather than the teachers right at the front, there was a ginormous thing that Hermione called a ‘screen.’ As they sat down, she muttered to him quickly, trying to explain how it worked. 
So, that was where he’d see the big talking portrait thing in a moment. He’d been expecting it to be quite a bit smaller. 
“You alright?” Hermione asked, seeming to sense his discomfort. She suddenly looked concerned, as if wondering if she’d made the right decision coming here. 
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Just going to take some getting used to, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “You’ll like it, I promise. I… um… picked something gentle for your first experience.”
Ron wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and he didn’t have time to ask her to explain either, for in that moment the lights turned off and the giant portrait in front of them flashed on. He nearly jumped out of his seat, and might have done so had Hermione not seemed to anticipate the reaction and held firmly onto his arm.
“What the hell is that?” he hissed, pointing to the giant portrait. 
“The movie,” Hermione said calmly. “Well, it will be. These are just some ads.”
Ron directed his gaze up to the screen, eyeing it suspiciously. Muggles would continue to amaze him, he supposed, if this was what they considered entertainment. 
But, by it turning on, it seemed to have some kind of magical effect on everyone, for they all fell silent at once. Ron looked around. Every single person had their eyes looking up at the screen. 
He sunk into his chair and looked down at the food in his lap. Well, if he was going to be here for two hours, he may as well try everything. 
Hermione had been right about one thing, at least. He did like the Muggle sweets. She’d bought quite a mix, but hardly touched any of them herself (something about her parents being Muggle teeth Healers and convincing her too much sugar was bad). 
The movie started, and for a while, Ron watched it in fascination. He once again thought of his dad who would have been absolutely thrilled to be here. It was quite entertaining, the show. He laughed a few times, along with everyone else. They said some ridiculous things, but he understood it enough to find it funny. 
After a while, though, his attention drifted to Hermione. She really was beautiful, and he wished he had told her more often over the past month and a bit, because now he wasn't going to be able to tell her for a long time. 
Seeming to sense his eyes on her, she turned her head and smiled at him. He really wanted to kiss her, but even he knew this probably wasn't the place to do it. It seemed a little too open. 
So instead, he settled for reaching across the armrest and holding her hand, which she accepted and her smile widened at the gesture. 
It seemed strange that this was to be their last night together for a while, and yet it was their first time on an actual date. Everything had been so backwards because of the war, and he couldn't help but wonder, if they had started out normally, would he have felt the same way about her?
He decided he would have. The situation hadn't made him feel this way; it was her. It was all her. 
When the movie finished, everyone stood up to leave. Ron watched them, mildly fascinated at how normal this seemed for everyone. This was what they did for fun, when they couldn't do magic. This was what Hermione must have done before she got her Hogwarts letter. 
A thought occurred to him as they walked slowly from the cinema, hand-in-hand. "Hermione, I've never asked you before, but do they have Muggle schools?"
"Yes, Ron," Hermione said, sounding mildly amused. "Harry has mentioned it more than once over the years. I daresay I have too."
"And you went to one?" Ron asked. 
"Yes, I did. Since I was about six."
"What did you learn there?" 
Hermione stopped right before the exit, turning to face him, and looking exasperated. "Are you really wanting to spend tonight talking to me about my educational history?"
"Er, no, not really. I was just curious, is all."
Hermione smiled. "Can you be curious another day?"
Ron nodded. He then looked around. People were beginning to file out of the building and disbanding in different directions. "Where to now?"
Hermione gave him a rather devious look as she grabbed his hand again and dragged him onto the streets. It was quite busy, and they blended in nicely.
“I really hate it when you get an idea in your head and don’t tell me what it is!” Ron huffed as Hermione turned down a quiet road with very few people. “Where are we going?”
Still without answering, Hermione pulled him into an alley off the road. The moment they were out of sight, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her so quickly that he didn’t think she intended for her back to hit the wall as hard as it did. 
“Are you alright? That sounded —”
“Just shut up for once, Ron,” Hermione breathed, and she drew him into a deep kiss.
Surprised, Ron pulled away, both of them breathing heavily. He stared down at her. “Hermione!”
“What?”
“This is so very unlike you.”
The devious look she’d given him before, returned. “Well, I feel a little adventurous…”
“Here?” Ron asked, gesturing down the alley. “Really?”
She shrugged, drawing him towards her again in another attempt to kiss him. This time, he let her, moving his hands to her face. She tasted the sweetest she ever had, her lips the softest they had ever been. 
He groaned, reluctantly breaking away. 
“What?” she asked, the street light giving him a glimpse of her very flustered face. 
“I love you,” he breathed. “You do things to me, you know? Amazing, wonderful, incredible things.”
Hermione smiled up at him, her arms tightening around his neck, as if she was making a point — though, he didn’t know what that was. Then, just as Ron was about to kiss her again, three people walked past the alley and Hermione lowered her arms. “Should we go?”
“Where?” Ron asked, his voice weak. 
"Your room?”
Ron gripped her tightly and she smiled.
“Come on, I’ll Apparate us both.”
Ron didn't have time to ask anymore questions before they were spinning through the air and landing moments later in his bedroom.
He stared at her. Out of courtesy, his family always Apparated from and to the Apparition point just by the boundaries of the Burrow. Especially so late at night, when…
But his thought never finished, because Hermione had thrown herself at him once more, kissing him so furiously that he lost his footing. 
No thoughts were in his head now aside from her. All he could comprehend was her and how much he loved her, how much he wanted her, and how much both of them seemed to want their last night to be memorable. 
He kissed her back with so much force that she sighed in response and her hands came around his neck and then she pulled him onto his bed. 
Then he was entirely lost in her, his mind turning into a big pile of mush simply by having her so close to him. 
He was going to miss this. He was going to miss everything about her, about their relationship, so damn much. 
Ron woke the next morning to a feeling of complete bliss. He savoured the moment, keeping his eyes closed and remembering every detail of last night, every detail of Hermione, from her eyes, to her mouth, to the way her body felt against his. He knew that once he opened his eyes, the reality of today would hit him, and he wasn’t ready for that quite yet. He’d savour the last moments with Hermione for as long as he could. 
There had been a moment last night where he’d been overcome with so much love for her and he’d accepted something that he’d not allowed himself to think about until then — there was no one else for him who could possibly make him as happy as she did. She was it. It was either her or no one, but Merlin, he hoped it was always going to be her. 
He had a vague memory of perhaps telling her that at some point, but he couldn’t quite remember. If he had, he hoped she didn’t mind him being so forward. She didn’t seem to have minded, though. Or maybe she thought he’d only said it because of the moment they were in. But he’d mean it without sex being a factor. He hoped she knew that too. 
He felt her stir within his arms and he smiled, finally opening his eyes. “You’re not going to forget about me while you’re gone, are you?”
“You’re not going to forget about me when you’re immersed in your Auror training, are you?”
Ron’s smile widened. “Never.”
She returned his smile. “Then, never.”
He shuffled forward, kissing her, drawing her body towards him. He’d spent most of the night doing that, but it never got boring. Besides, he had to make up for all the times he was going to miss while they were apart. 
“I love you, Hermione. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Ron.” 
He began absently stroking her hair, watching her, knowing that soon this would have to end; that soon they'd have to get up and she'd be going away and that he'd not see her for at least a month. 
"Let's just stay here forever," he said. "You, me, forget about everything and everyone else. Who needs to be an Auror? Plenty of jobs out there, right?"
Hermione laughed. "Can you really see yourself working at the Leaky Cauldron, washing dishes your whole life?"
Ron shrugged. "If I got to come home to you every night after, then why not?"
Hermione smiled, then grabbed his wrist to look at his watch. "The Portkey leaves at eleven, so we still have a few hours. I'm all packed, so we've got the whole morning together. What would you like to do?"
Ron considered telling her that sex would be good, but by the look on her face, that didn’t seem to be an option, so instead he settled against her and said, "I just want to stay here."
And that was where they laid, for at least an hour longer. Then his mother called them for breakfast. She no longer came into his room ever since the incident some weeks ago now. 
Reluctantly, they got out of bed, dressed, and then headed downstairs to find everyone else already up.
"How was your evening, dears?" Molly asked as they sat at the table. Ron immediately began helping himself to eggs and sausages. 
"Do you really want an answer to that, Mum?" Ginny asked, smirking, and both Ron and Hermione turned a bright red.
Molly, shooting Ginny a rather disgusted look, said, "How was the picture… moving… thing?"
"Hilarious," Ron said, grinning. "I think I'll go again. There's different ones, right, Hermione? You'd like it, Ginny."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. 
"You, me and Harry," Ron continued. "Harry can work out the Muggle money for us. Will be fun."
Ginny didn't look convinced, but Harry, who was sitting beside her, nodded. "You know, I've never actually been. The Dursleys didn't really feel it necessary to invite me to any, whenever they went."
"Hm, sounds like the three of you have already got plenty to do for the next few weeks," Molly said, and a smile crossed her lips. She'd been thrilled to learn that Ron was no longer going to another country and had made a point to emphasise this delight whenever she got the chance. 
Breakfast was one of the best in a long time, Molly going to an effort to make Hermione's final morning with them memorable. After they'd eaten, they made their way to the living room where Charlie and Percy were talking about dragons and the Ministry's handle on them before they left for work. It seemed that the two brothers disagreed with one another, and not wanting to involve themselves in the argument, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny hurried up to Ginny's room.
"Percy is a lot more tolerable now," Ginny said, "but he's still a prat at times. That will never change. Have you heard, he's got himself a girlfriend?"
"What?" the others all asked at the same time.
Ginny nodded, grinning. "He hasn't told anyone, but I caught him trying to work out how to send a letter the Muggle way the other day. Her name is Audrey, I think. She must be a Muggle." She shrugged.
Of all his brothers, Ron thought Percy would have been the least likely to find a Muggle to go out with. Ginny must have been mistaken. "Maybe she doesn't have an owl?"
Ginny shrugged again. "Maybe, but I don't think so. He kept muttering about how he didn't know how she survived with this kind of post…"
"The weirdest part in all that is Percy has a girlfriend," Ron said.
"Oh, Ron, he's so much better now," Hermione said. "I mean, after the war. And if she is a Muggle, then she's not going to know about… everything."
"You think he's told her?" Ron asked. "He's a stickler for rules, and telling her would be breaking a lot of them. Or does she think she's just dating some office bloke with a good, but secretive, job?"
No one had an answer for that, so they changed the topic, Harry wondering when the Quidditch league might start up again. 
"Eh, soon, I hope," Ron said. "Maybe the break will do the Cannons some good. Honestly, they just keep putting together the worst combinations…"
The morning moved on far too fast for Ron's liking, and as much as he enjoyed the company of his sister and Harry, he now only had one hour left with Hermione. He dragged her from Ginny's room, and into his own.
"Ron—"
"I just want it to be us," he said. "At least for half an hour."
Hermione's face softened and she smiled. 
Ron wrapped his arms around her, hugging her, but not in a way that was romantic; it was a way that said I'm going to miss you so goddamn much.
They stayed that way for some time, and when they did pull away, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. And she actually said the words.
"I'm going to miss you."
"Just write every few days," Ron said. "Keep me updated."
"Of course," Hermione said. "I'll let you know what happens when I find them. I'd imagine they'll be disoriented for a few days. Of course, that's if I can—"
"You will," Ron assured her. "You'll do it."
She smiled, her arms still around his neck. "I love you," she said. "I love you so much, and I wish I'd had the confidence to tell you a long time ago."
"Nah," Ron said, "if you had, we probably wouldn't be here right now. We probably would have broken up over something silly and may not even be speaking to each other. The timing was perfect."
“Broken up over what?” Hermione asked, sounding curious. 
“I dunno.” Ron shrugged. “Something really stupid. Maybe I didn’t do my homework on time. Or maybe I said something insensitive, and it resulted in a silly argument. You know, old time’s sake.”
“We were a bit stupid, weren’t we?” Hermione said. 
“Yeah, just a bit,” Ron agreed.
Eventually, they couldn't delay any more. Hermione picked up the beaded bag from where it sat on Ron's bed, and they headed back downstairs.
"All ready, dear?" Molly asked, smiling kindly.
Hermione nodded.
"And the Portkey leaves at eleven?"
Hermione nodded again. "So we better be going." She looked over her shoulder where Harry and Ginny emerged from the living room. "Are you two coming as well? If not, I'll say goodbye here…"
"Of course we're coming," Harry said. "We can't miss seeing you off."
Hermione smiled at them, then said goodbye to everyone else. A moment later, Molly put some Floo powder into the fire. 
"Good luck, dear. I'm sure you'll manage to help your parents. And, do know that if they ever need somewhere to stay, they're welcome here, of course."
"Thank you, Molly."
"Because that's what they're going to want, Mum," Ron said. "After learning their minds had been altered by magic, to come and live with a whole family of wizards."
"Oh, Ron, stop!" Hermione said. "I'll see you there." And she disappeared in a wave of green flames. 
When they'd all reached the Ministry, they were greeted by Percy, who was personally organising her travel. He looked at Hermione with a small smile. 
"All ready?" he asked.
"Yes," Hermione said, and they began following him to a lift. 
They reached the level the Magical Transportation department was on and Percy led them into a large room. 
There were so many odd and mis-matched objects in there, they could only be Portkeys. 
"Which one are you going to take, Hermione?" Ron asked, amused. "An old sock or will it be a tin can?"
"Actually," Percy said, "it's a cushion." 
Sitting on a desk was the frilliest, pinkest cushion Ron had ever seen. He snorted. "I love Portkeys."
"Five minutes, Hermione," Percy said.
Hermione turned to Harry and Ginny, and gave them each a hug. 
"I'll miss you guys," she said. "And I'll be sure to write and keep you all updated."
"We'll see you when you get back, Hermione," Harry said. "If anyone can do it, it's you."
Hermione smiled gratefully at Harry, and then, looking rather teary-eyed, she looked at Ron and flung herself into his arms and kissed him hard. 
Ron vaguely heard Ginny say to Harry, "What a goodbye!" He held onto her just a little longer until Percy's warning that she had thirty seconds forced her to break away (Ron kissed her one more time) and she clutched the cushion to her chest, as if using it for comfort. 
"Have fun," Ginny said, waving. "See you when you get back."
Ten seconds and wanting to get the last word in, Ron said, "I love you!"
But before she could reply, the Portkey and Hermione vanished from the office. 
A silence filled the room for some time, and Ron felt Harry's arm across his shoulders in an act of comfort. 
It was Ginny who broke the silence. "So, Perce," she said, "you going to tell us about this girl?"
Percy stared at her. "What — how?"
"Is she a Muggle?" Ginny pressed.
Percy looked at her, an incredulous expression on his face. "How did you know?"
"Are you going to tell her?" Ginny continued. "Or will you wait until you're married? Imagine the shock..."
"What are the rules anyway?" Harry asked. "When you marry a Muggle? I've always wondered."
Percy just stared at them, lost for words. 
Ginny grinned at him. "Well, you should introduce her to the family. Imagine the look on her face when she learns about Quidditch!" And leaving Percy with a thunderstruck expression, Ginny left the office with Harry and Ron following behind her. 
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of-a-chaotic-mind · 3 years
Text
My Family, My Home
Summary: Harry and Reader find themselves in a particularly nasty fight after the death of Sirius Black. Will they be able to mend what they broke?
TW/CW: Harry Potter x Reader. Angst, angst, angst. Mentions of death. Depressing. Yeah.
Requested?: Yes, by a lovely Anon who said, “Hi i read your last harry imagine and i am in love with it. I was wondering if you can write another for me? Where harry and reader are dating around when sirius died in order of the phoenix and harry is very depressed about the situation and slowly disassociates from the reader and when he/she wanted to talk about it and lighten the weight on his shoulders harry says sth to reader along the lines "you are not my family and you are not my home" and a big fight happens eventually harry realizes what he has done and gets very upset bc he loves her/him so much. They eventually make up but i want angst drama and tears you know lol i will be very happy if you can write this!!”
Word Count: 1,448
A/N: I tried my best to convey angst lol. It came out better than I thought it would though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always Requests are Open!
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[This gif hurts me probably as much as it hurts you lol but I wanna use it anyway]
Your POV
     I wander into the Gryffindor common room in hopes of finding my boyfriend, Harry. He's been distant as of late, no one can really blame him though. Between You-Know-Who and the death of his godfather, he has a lot on his plate. What worries me most is he’s even begun distancing himself from me. Of all people, I had hoped he wouldn’t shut me out but here we are. The common room is full of quiet chatter and thick tension but no Harry in sight.
     Ron, however, is currently locked in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Dean Thomas so I take a seat beside him in hopes of grabbing his attention but not interrupting his game. Hermione speaks up from behind her book, “Ron’ll probably be a while,” putting her book down she notices my look of concern, “in the meantime, maybe I can help?”
     “I was just wondering if either of you had seen Harry. He avoided me all during classes again today,” I ask.
     “He’s been skirting us too, probably just needs some time to adjust,” Ron mumbles absentmindedly. Hermione and I give each other a look that says we know that’s not the case. I decide to look elsewhere as Hermione goes back to her book. I make my way up the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitories and stop when I reach the one Harry and Ron stay in. I knock softly on the door but am met with silence. I knock again a little louder just in case and this time the door swings open viciously.  
     Harry stands before me bleary eyed and extremely annoyed, “What do you want?”
     Shocked at his attitude, I try my luck at calming him down, “Woah, love, calm down it’s just me. Maybe you can let me in and we can talk or perhaps I can just be there for you to lean on?”
     “Yes, I have eyes, I can see that it’s you. No, I don’t want to be bothered right now, go away,” with this he tries to shut the door in my face but I step into the room before he can.
     “Harry, I can help you, just tell me what you need.”
     “I don’t want or need your help, (Y/N). You’re not my family and you’re not my home,” with this he opens the door again, shoves me out, and then slams it behind me. Bursting into tears, I run down the stairs and out of the portrait hole, ignoring all the various looks I get as well as Ron and Hermione calling after me. I run straight to my favorite spot on the grounds. Malfoy thinks he found this tree first and claimed it but I always climb higher up into it and from the ground no one can see me.  
     As I recall the stinging words from moments before, I don’t understand why Harry would even say that. He’s always told me that when he’s with me he feels at home. My heart begins to ache as I attempt to shove all the heart wrenching thoughts from my mind but they are coming faster than I can battle them and eventually I am overcome by them as I sit by myself in a lone tree and cry my eyes out.
Harry’s POV
     I stalk back to my bed and crash down onto it once more. Seconds later, footsteps sound outside the dorm room door and as Ron barges in, I pretend to be asleep. He doesn’t fall for it though, and instead drags me out of bed and slams me into the wall, “What in the bloody hell are you thinking, mate? I don’t know what you said to them but they ran out in tears. You better have a damn good reason for hurting them or I’m going to rip you a new one.”
     “I don't have to give you any reason. I don’t want your help either, so sod off and leave me alone,” I spit.
     This time it isn’t Ron that assaults me but Hermione. My cheek stings from the sharp slap across my face. “I don’t what has gotten into Harry James Potter but I think it’s high time you stop with the pity party and let those who love you help you.”
     Ron stares at Hermione in awe, “You didn’t have to slap him, ‘Mione.”
     “Maybe not, but maybe it’ll knock some sense into him. When you’re ready, you’ll know where to find us. Now come on, Ron. (Y/N) needs us.”
     They leave me in stunned silence. I think Hermione was right, she did knock some sense into me because now I realize the hurt that I’ve caused by trying to push everyone away. I thought it was for their own good but I was obviously wrong. Now, I’ve gone and messed up with the person I’m in love with all because of my own pride. I sit on the edge of the bed and begin trying to come up with a way to apologize and smooth things over.
Your POV
     “(Y/N)?” I hear from below as Ron and Hermione come looking for me. I wipe any remnants of the tears shed from off my face with my sleeve before slowly dropping to the ground. As soon as they spot me, they rush forward and both wrap me in a hug.  
     “I’m sorry he’s being a manky old git," Ron grumbles.
     “Are you alright, hon? Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asks. I shrug but begin telling them about mine and Harry’s fight. If looks could kill, Ron would’ve surely killed the poor tree behind us as he looked as if he was trying to bore holes into its bark. Hermione also look absolutely miffed but pulled me in for another hug, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” At that moment, the him in question walks out of the castle, heading our direction.
     He approaches cautiously due to the murderous look on Ron’s face but Hermione grabs Ron by the arm and pulls him away, “Let’s give them space.” They stop just out of earshot and wait patiently in case I need them, and Hermione begins trying to calm Ron down.
     Harry looks at the ground and scuffs his shoe against the pebbles, “I know I really have no right to ask for forgiveness but I thought I’d apologize anyway.” He pauses to collect his thoughts before making eye contact with me, “I’m so sorry for the things I said. There is no excusing them and I know they hurt you. I just thought that if I shoved everyone away then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a burden. I got so caught up in trying to do what I thought was best that I failed to realize I was hurting the people who mean the most to me more than if I had just let help me carry the weight. Like I said, I know I don’t deserve it, but can you forgive me?”
     I rush forward, “Of course, Harry, I forgive you. You’re not a burden to us. We love you and we want to help. Your feelings are valid, however, and I’m always willing to listen if you need to vent. I’m willing to bet that Hermione and Ron would be willing as well if you apologize to them too.”
     He looks over his shoulder at them and chuckles at finding them bickering over something. I laugh, “I swear those two will be married one day. If they aren’t, I’ll be severely disappointed.” Harry laughs as he beckons them over.
     As they approach Hermione places herself between Ron and Harry, I suppose in case Ron decides to hit Harry. He doesn’t though and he just stands there scowling. Harry clears his throat, “I haven’t been fair to you two either. Can you forgive me for how I’ve acted?”
     Hermione glances over to me and seems to scan my face and I nod with a small smile. Seemingly satisfied, she nods as well, “Of course, Harry. I’m sorry for slapping you.”
     Harry laughs, “It’s all right. I needed it to knock some sense into me.”
     The three of us look to Ron. He seems to think long and hard about the situation before finally coming to a conclusion, “Alright, I forgive you but you know they’re like a sibling to me and if you hurt them again it won’t be Hermione hitting you it’ll be me.”
     Harry chuckles, “Understood. Let’s go back to the common room and talk though, it’s too cold out here.” We all nod in agreement and make our way back into the castle.
Masterlist
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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years
Text
“Shrieking Shack Ghosts” || YEAR 3 – Ch.28 (HP au)
                              Chapter List
<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->
Day posted: 10/16/2020
Word count: 3, 207
Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)
Rating: E for everyone
Warnings: none
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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.
This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D
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“Oh, of course you don’t look suspicious at all.” Heather crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot as Harry and Ron came down the stairs towards her. “Who would ever suspect you, carrying your school bag on a Saturday morning?”
Harry moved his bag to rest behind him instead of to his side. He crossed his arms back at her. “I’m just going to do some studying in the library after Ron leaves.” He looked around at the empty corridor but there was no need, everyone was at breakfast already, eager to get the day started.
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll both ‘go study’ today.”
They sat down with everyone and ate, trying to look somewhere between sad and bored and not at all excited to get down to Hogsmeade. They were careful not to look down the table at Hermione, who had told Harry last night she’d tell on him and get the map confiscated if she thought they were leaving the castle. Ron left, winking at them and saying ‘See you soon’, leaving them to finish eating their food slowly, looking miserable, as everyone else got up to leave and line up for Hogsmeade.
Hermione walked up to them, pushing against the river of students and sat down next to Harry, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I really am but you must understand… It’s for your own good.”
“It’s ok. We’re just going to be studying in the library, I guess. Get some homework done so we have more free time.” Harry looked absolutely pitiful as he moved his breakfast around with his fork.
“Alright… I’m sorry.” Hermione got up and hugged Heather before running out the great hall.
The only people left were the second and first years, and a couple of teachers who hadn’t finished breakfast yet. They calmly got up and walked out, making sure to head up the entrance hall stairs before waving down to Ron and Hermione who both waved up at them with very different looks.
They hurried up to the third floor and opened up the one eyed witch. While Harry shoved his bag inside Heather opened up the map and scanned the halls. A tiny set of footprints were heading their way.
“Harry!” she hissed. “Neville’s coming!”
“How close?”
“Harry! Heather!” Neville had spotted them around the corner.
Harry quickly closed the witch’s hump and stepped back. They stood against the opposite wall as far back from the witch as possible to avoid suspicion.
“Neville. You aren’t going to Hogsmeade?” Heather slipped Harry the map and he stuffed it in his pocket. “Oh, I forgot.”
Neville stopped right next to them. “It’s part of my punishment. Hey what are you two doing? We could play exploding snap together! I’ve gotten good… kind of.”
Heather and Harry looked at each other.
Harry nodded. “Oh, that’d be great… But I have that vampire essay to do for Lupin. We’ll be in the library…”
Neville’s eyes brightened. “Oh, could I join? I haven’t done it either – ”
“N-no… oh Harry, remember we did it last night?” Heather put her hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Sorry we can’t work on it together.”
“You could help me with it then!”
It was clear Neville was desperate for company. They must be the only three people in their year not down in Hogsmeade right now. Maybe they could bring him along? Although it’d be hard to hide under the cloak with him… he was a bit larger than Ron and it was hard enough with just the two of them.
“Er – ” Harry was about to respond when Neville gasped and stepped all the way in front of them, looking over their shoulders.
They turned around and saw Professor Snape walked up to them with arms crossed and narrowed eyes.
“And what… are you three doing here?” His eyes slid from Neville to Heather and stayed on Harry. “An odd place to meet up with friends, isn’t it? – Potter.”
Heather watched Professor Snape’s eyes flick to either side of them, to the closed classroom doors, and then to the one-eyed witch a few feet away. He narrowed his eyes at it and raised a single black brow, looking back at them. He looked as suspicious as Hermione had during breakfast, the same doubtful kind of suspicion.
“We didn’t mean to meet up here we just – ” Harry looked at Heather, “…happened to.”
“Really.” Professor Snape drummed his fingers on his elbow and took a few more seconds to cast them wary eyes. “It’s often your habit to turn up in places you aren’t supposed to be in – especially – places you shouldn’t be in.” He looked from Harry to Heather and she looked down. “I suggest the three of you find somewhere else to be, like your common rooms. I believe I should have assigned enough essays to keep you busy this weekend?”
They nodded and turned on their heels, heading away. Harry turned to look back at him as they rounded a corner but Heather pulled him forward. They walked all the way up to Gryffindor Tower when Heather stopped and pulled Harry to a halt.
“Harry, will you drop me off at my common room?”
Neville was holding the portrait open.
“Oh – er – yeah. It’s on the way to the library and… I forgot I left the essay there last night. See you, Neville.”
“I’ll get my textbook down,” he said and went inside.
“I feel bad for lying to him. Can’t we – ”
“No.” Harry pulled her away and took out the map as he went down the stairs. Once they were away from the security trolls guarding the portrait he pulled it up to his nose and squinted at the tiny words. “Passage is clear. Snape’s on the second floor. Why’s he always just walking around?”
They headed down the stairs to the third floor again, examining the map one last time for anyone nearby.
“His office now. And – ” Harry continued. “He examined the statue. D’you think he knows about it?”
Heather opened the witch’s hump and waited for him to clear the map and put it away. “No, or he would have found your bag.” She pushed it aside and walked in, careful not to slip and fall down the incline. She lit her wand the second the statue closed behind her, before they could be cast in total darkness.
The passage walls looked rough where the light hit as they walked, their steps echoing slightly. It was an odd kind of quiet inside, like the whole world was suddenly muffled. Outside the tunnel, walking around even the quietest of passageways, distant talking or laughter or even birds singing and cawing outside could be heard. Inside the tunnel, it was like silence was the permanent state of things and the thought of talking felt rude and disrespectful to the darkness up ahead.
They walked for several minutes before the eeriness set in, and her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. The same kind of fear that they weren’t alone in the tunnel, and that Sirius Black would be waiting for them some feet ahead crept in more powerfully than the first time they walked through the tunnel. She was leading the way and hesitating with each step she took, holding her wand out as far as she could, willing the light to reach farther ahead.
“D’you think Ron and Hermione will ever be friends again?” she asked, attempting to distract her mind and calm her racing heart as they walked.
“Why would he examine the statue? He must think something.”
She couldn’t believe he was still stuck on Professor Snape. “Harry. He isn’t an idiot you know. All Slytherins know he can smell out trouble a floor away and you’re always getting in the middle of things that get us into trouble. I’m pretty sure I’d be top of his class if he didn’t hold a grudge against me because of you.”
“But I haven’t done anything this year.”
“You’re doing something right now.”
“WE’RE doing something.”
She decided not to respond. They reached the end of the tunnel eventually and, under the invisibility cloak, they emerged out of Honeydukes and looked around for Ron, spotting him sitting on a bench across the street, eating candy.
They walked up to him and Heather kicked his foot lightly. “Here. Finally.”
“What took you so long!” Ron frowned and got up, stuffing his candy back in his pockets. “It’s been an hour.”
They set off down the street walking next to Ron as he tried his best not to look like he was talking to himself.
“Snape was hanging around the statue.”
“Harry thinks it’s weird Professor Snape was suspicious of us.”
“He was suspicious of the statue.”
“If he knew about it he would have told Dumbledore.” Ron tried to keep most of his mouth shut as he talked. “Or he would have hidden in the tunnel waiting to catch you. It would’ve made his day – or life – depending on how many detentions that gets you.”
“Or he’s caught Fred and George around there too.” Heather wondered how Fred and George managed their mischief with him around. She never saw them in the same room together, apart from breakfast and dinner. Maybe they purposefully stay as far away from him as possible… with the map that would have been easy, just taking opposite stairs or walking down different passageways.
“In here,” Ron said out of the corner of his mouth, stopping right outside the Owl Post.
He pretended to look at cards to send to his brother Bill in Egypt while her and Harry looked around. The Owl post was a small looking shop two levels high, except it had only one floor. Walking in, there was a front desk and hundreds of different letter-related things in organized clear drawers all around the first level walls. Then, up high above their heads were hundreds of owls hooting and looking down at them, twisting their heads in curiosity.
Heather had the feeling they could see them under the cloak, but none came down to inspect them, not even when Heather tempted fate and held her arm up under the cloak to see if one would land on it. Harry pinched her and she tried not to yelp, quickly putting her arm back down.
“Where are you?” Ron muttered.
They pulled on his sweater and they left.
“Zonko’s next.”
They followed Ron into the shop and found it incredibly hard to remain hidden surrounded by so many students and children packed all around looking at products. Heather hated it inside, being reminded of the only time they’d been in a toy store with Dudley and his greedy hands touching every toy he could reach. Back then she’d been taller than both Harry and Dudley and was forced to reach up and grab things for him. The fact she nor Harry were allowed to touch anything made the experience much worse.
Harry, however, happily gave Ron coins to buy several jokes and tricks. He stuffed his pockets with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.
“I hope you aren’t planning on using those.”
“Who are you? Hermione?” Ron said bitterly.
What little Hagrid’s talk did for Ron yesterday had been quickly erased by Hermione’s threat and he was back to hating her. The wind threatened to blow the cloak off them and they decided it’d be best to get away from the town. It was a nice day aside from the cold and Ron thought it would be less scary to visit the Shrieking Shack.
“I tried going up here last time with – well you know who – but the snow made it hard to look at properly. I thought there was someone on the lawn but it was just a snowflake stuck to my eyelash.”
For it supposedly being the most haunted dwelling in all of Britain, it didn’t look so scary. It looked like it was swaying in the wind, ready to topple onto itself any second. The paint was a dark cream color and the roof a light grey. The windows were all boarded up and the door had several chains on it. There were surprisingly no visible holes or missing boards but it still looked like it was falling apart. It looked lonely and sad, not scary.
“Creepy,” Harry said.
“What’s supposed to be so scary about it?”
Ron leaned on the fence and swallowed. “No one can get into it – Fred and George tried of course – but it’s sealed shut. But everyone in town swears at one point or another, they’ve heard terrifying sounds coming from inside. I asked some of the ghosts about it and they say they avoid it and warn students to avoid it too.”
It was the only house on the hill and hidden safely behind a forest of short and thin grey trees with almost black looking leaves all dried but still hanging onto their branches. Whatever noises the town heard must come from something incredibly loud to travel all the way down passed the woods.
“It’s getting hot under here.” Harry reached for the bottom of the cloak when he stopped.
Heather heard Draco before seeing him climb over the hill, walking the dirt path between the tree lines towards them.
“ – remind me about the owl I’ll be getting from my Father. I’m sure the hearings going well. He’s telling them I couldn’t use my arm for three whole months.”
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind them, a little more winded than him from climbing.
“Imagine that big hairy moron trying to defend that stupid bird. ‘He won’ ‘arm anyone, honest. He’s innocent, he is – ‘ can you imagine?” He shook his head and spotted Ron suddenly. His smile turned into a wicked grin and his quick steps slowed and smoothed. “Ah, Weasley. House hunting, are you? Bit of a dream house for you though, isn’t it?”
Ron’s face went red as he scowled. “Leave me alone Malfoy.”
“I supposed it’d be a big step up. Maybe with this one, your family won’t have to all sleep in the same room. And you won’t be sleeping in a cupboard – oh wait, that the Potters, isn’t it?” Draco laughed and looked at Crabbe and Goyle happily as they laughed too.
Heather felt her own cheeks go red at the mention of their old room situation. Ron took a step forward but Harry pulled on the back of his shirt.
“I’ll take care of him,” Harry hissed into Ron’s red ear.
“No!” Heather tried protesting but there wasn’t much she could do unless she wanted Harry to walk away, cloak and all.
Heather followed Harry around behind Crabbe and Goyle and crouched down with him as he picked up mud.
“Don’t,” she tried again but he didn’t listen.
“We were just talking about that oaf friend of yours. Well, you know him best. D’you think he’ll cry at the mention of that hippogriff getting its head – ”
Harry quickly stuck his muddy hand out from under the cloak and flung as hard as he could, hitting the back of Draco’s head, covering his silver-blonde hair with thick brown muck.
Draco whipped around, looking angrily behind them. “What was that!” His anger melted into confusion when his frantic eyes spotted no one.
Harry and Heather had crept back around to stand to their far left. Harry picked up a moss covered stick and flung it, hitting Crabbe wetly on his neck.
“Argh!” Crabe started punching the air, taking quick steps towards them with every punch he gave.
“I think you made the house mad, Malfoy.” Ron leaned against the fence, pointing a thumb towards the swaying shack.
Draco finished rubbing the mud off him when he seized Ron’s sweater. “You’re doing this!”
SPLAT.
“It’s got me!” Goyle wiped green-ish mud off his uniform.
Draco swirled around, looking at Goyle and Crabbe hitting and kicking at the air. Heather was crouching down, covering her mouth with her hands trying not to burst out laughing. Harry was standing above her, ready to throw a stick when one of Crabbe’s kicks caught a bit of the cloak and pulled it down.
Harry quickly caught it at his neck and pulled it back up but Draco had already spotted him, pointing and screaming at where Harry’s head had appeared and then disappeared. Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t seen but ran back down the hill as soon as Draco yelled. Draco ran after them, looking somewhere between angry and scared.
Ron pointed down the hill. “You guys better run! He’s probably on his way to tell on you! Get to the castle fast – ”
“See you!” Harry yelled and pulled Heather up by her arms.
She had been frozen with dread the second Draco had pointed in their direction and screamed. As they ran down the path to Hogsmeade, she couldn’t help but picture him bursting through the doors screaming at the top of his lungs that he’d ‘just seen Potter in Hogsmeade!’ at everyone.
They got down to the town and the first thing she spotted was the apothecary sign swaying in the wind across from the Three Broomsticks.
“Wait!” She ducked out from under and ran in.
If she was going to get in trouble for going into Hogsmeade, then she had to make it at least worth it. She slammed the list down on the counter and huffed at the old man staring at her red and sweaty face. He took it without a word and started putting it all together in a white cloth bag. She could hardly enjoy the experience, thinking about whether anyone would believe Draco. It wasn’t common to have a cloak, and Draco probably thought Harry or any other non-pureblood wouldn’t have one… but Professor Dumbledore knew they did. And she was sure Professor Snape, even if he didn’t know about the cloak, would be highly suspicious of them.
The old man set the bag of ingredients on the counter and waited for her to count up her coins. He gave her a polite nod as she handed them over and picked up her things, running back out of the store. She looked around wildly but found absolutely no hint of where Harry was. Did he leave her?
Just as her panic began to worsen, she felt something push her into the alley between shops and she ducked under the cloak again.
“You’re mad!” Harry hissed. “Let’s go!”
The apothecary hadn’t taken any longer than five minutes max, but it felt like she had doomed them already. She stuffed the bag strings through her skirt belt loops and tied it closed, stuffing the bag up into her sweater and stuffing the sweater end into her skirt, keeping the bag of ingredients tucked inside neatly.
They ran inside Honeydukes, slipped in the back shop door, and down the stairs into the trap door. Heather could only hope, as they ran as fast as they could, wands lit and extended out, that the tunnel was a shorter distance than the path leading up to the school.
~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~
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halothenthehorns · 2 years
Text
TLTNL- THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
Harry flipped unenthusiastically to the start of his chapter. He couldn't say this was the worst start to his term, but things weren't going so well either. At least he had the ability to hope, considering his company. No matter how long he was in their presence, he knew that would never go away.
Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room before breakfast next morning.
"She didn't wait up for you after escorting the first years up there?" Lily asked in surprise.
"Obviously not," Sirius snorted.
Hoping for some support in his theory, Harry lost no time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express.
Ron interjected on the same breath Harry finished obviously Malfoy was just showing off for Parkinson.
"Why?" James rolled his eyes. Ron trying so hard to play this off was just a tad insulting.
"Don't know," Harry shrugged, that grumpy look lingering in place. "Suppose he didn't want Hermione to think he was encouraging me."
Hermione agreed both were likely, though it was a big lie to tell.
"She's not wrong on any of that," Sirius said fairly. Remus huffed so quietly only Sirius had heard, and he supposed both he and Prongs might still be a little sore about the last time Hermione hadn't believed Harry.
Harry wanted to press his point, but all around them were students whispering behind their hands and still pointing at him.
"Subtle," Lily drew the word out pointedly, her hand twitching for her wand while she fought back a shout for them all to mind their own business.
  Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole how rude it was to point. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend,
"Why do people bother with that hand thing?" James snapped of no one. "It does no good!"
"They like to pretend they're being subtle, not everyone can pull off our magnificence Prongs," Sirius stated.
promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm.
Ron sniggered, saying he was going to love being a sixth year, whole periods used to just sit around and relax.
"If he chooses to never do any homework, then sure," Remus said with pity.
Hermione corrected they were going to need that extra time to study.
Ron insisted not today, it was going to be a real doss!
"Well it's the first day back-" Sirius began to agree, before the start to Harry's last year held his tongue from saying anything else.
Hermione suddenly threw her arm out, halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand. She scolded Fanged Frisbees were banned and confiscated it. The boy scowled before complying and running back off.
Ron waited just long enough for him to vanish before snatching it next.
Sirius threw Remus a fond smile, who in turn shook his head indulgently. Lily rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled lightly, he didn't need to ask, the reminiscent air between all three of them for that exchange didn't need words.
Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron highly amusing.
"Wasn't she the one that giggled along at everything?" Lily asked, wondering why that had been mentioned at all.
"Except in Trelawney's class, then she believed every morbid word," Harry agreed without concern even if he did feel a flicker of annoyance far heavier than this should have called for.
She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.
"Can't even blame him, that kind of attention's always valued," Sirius agreed.
The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Harry and Ron told Hermione about their embarrassing conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.
Hermione was distressed even as she defended he couldn't be surprised. It wasn't as if they'd ever showed any real enthusiasm.
Ron pointed out they'd shown more than most, and Hagrid wouldn't realize that was because they liked him, not the subject.
"I guess I can kind of see why he'd think that," Remus scrunched up his face in thought, "but outside of class you've never made it clear that's what it was. I'm sure Hagrid will be an adult about this and just understand you didn't need it."
Then Ron wondered if anyone would continue to NEWT.
"Now he's being ridiculous," Sirius couldn't help but scoff at that idea. "There's any number of reasons you'd continue that class, careers for one thing that involve the grade."
"Liking of the class as well," Remus insisted, knowing he'd have been one.
Neither Harry nor Hermione answered; there was no need. They knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures.
"Oh come now, not everyone could hate it," Remus insisted. "I've admitted some of Hagrid's ideas were," he faltered, not able to come up with the right word for testing out a new species on a bunch of fourth years, but gallantly continued, "but I'd certainly happily have continued with the class! He's got a unique way of teaching."
Harry gave Remus a sideways look, but was surprised to find he honestly seemed to mean that. Harry supposed then there could have been others outside of his class who may fancy it, just none that he'd known.
They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.
"That still won't be a fun conversation no matter what," Lily sighed, hoping Hagrid would understand, he'd always been good about that in the past.
After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.
Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first period Ancient Runes class without further ado.
"Don't even know why she waited around," James smirked. "No teacher would question why she walked into class."
Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L results. Herbology was perfect, Professor Sprout would be glad to see him again with his O grade.
Lily beamed, remembering her worry from the train how Neville could only focus on his least good grades. She did wish Harry had heard him say this, or that he'd even said it.
He also qualified for DA with his E.
"Really? I thought Snape only allowed O's," Harry heavily rolled his eyes, despite his pride Neville had done so good in that exam.
"Maybe a stipulation from Dumbledore was he had to accept that grade as well, it's a class a large majority of people do need still," Sirius speculated, though his preference would have been if Snape had just never gotten the bloody job.
The problem was his desire for Transfiguration, an A just wasn't an acceptable enough grade to be carrying on, he wouldn't cope with the course work.
Neville hung his head in shame, and McGonagall asked why the desire?
"I'm surprised Augusta never made him retake the exam," James said bitingly.
"Probably enjoying the attention he got too much and realized too late," Remus snipped.
Neville looked miserable and muttered something about what his grandmother wanted.
Lily scowled and bite her tongue to convince herself not to snap about that again.
McGonagall snorted, stating it was high time his grandmother accepted the grandson she had, rather than what she wished, especially after what happened at the Ministry.
Sirius let out a deep bark of triumphant laughter that was echoed throughout the room. Augusta shouldn't have to be told that, but what they would give to make her hear it.
Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.
"Tis a genuine rarity," Remus agreed with a sad little smile, wishing Neville heard them far more often. Harry still didn't seem any more used to it either.
She still denied him access to Transfiguration, but suggested he continue with Charms, with his E.
Neville again mumbled his grandmother for answer, she found it a soft option.
"He still on about her?" James demanded shrewdly. "By this point Neville should be aware speaking her opinions isn't getting him anywhere."
"Seems it's all he knows, her opinions," Harry sighed quietly. He'd certainly been that way through his young life at the Dursleys before Hagrid.
McGonagall wouldn't hear of it, insisting he take Charms, and she'd be dropping Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless.
Lily didn't bother to contain her triumphant laugh any more than Sirius had, all but beaming for this child finally hearing something like that.
Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.
"I must confess just one slight disappointment to this," Sirius' lighthearted tone held nothing of the sort. "She gave him an extra class! To prove a point mind you, but the homework!"
"Worth it," Remus stated, knowing he'd have done exactly the same.
Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.
McGonagall explained, with a shrewd voice showing her disapproval, that Trelawney and Firenze were splitting the students between them. Trelawney had the sixth years.
Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.
James scoffed heavily, good to know where her priorities were.
Harry went next and was approved for all subjects, including Potions to his surprise. McGonagall prompted this, his desire to be an Auror required it and Slughorn was perfectly happy to take him on with an E.
Then she finished he already had a list of twenty hopefuls looking to make the team, and was waiting for him to set a date for trials at his leisure.
James had been absently listening to the part of the conversation he'd been well aware of, but now beamed all over again at the news. He couldn't wait to hear how Harry handled those! It would be as good as any game he'd played! Probably better, since it should be hard for even his son's life to be at risk at something like tryouts.
A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry, and the two of them left the table together.
Ron was delightedly going over his schedule, finding a free period now, and after their break, and lunch!
"Savor the idea of them while they last," Sirius sighed in agreement.
They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year.
"It all happens so fast," James agreed with a wistful smile at his son, his own age, and Harry felt a guilty flash as he realized his dad wasn't all talking about Quidditch in that moment.
She congratulated him on the badge.
"What happens if all the old team had graduated?" Harry asked quickly in hopes of changing the subject.
"Never happened," James easily shrugged like his mind had never been anywhere else except the pitch. "Seems a tad ridiculous, a whole team made up of nothing but seventh years. Some years there wouldn't even be enough to form a team."
She was waiting eagerly for trials.
Harry told her she didn't need that, he'd already seen her play for five years.
"He's got her there," Sirius nodded easily, this having been exactly what Prongs had said when someone had made the snide comment about Sirius not having to try out at their team.
She warned it wasn't good to start like that, there had been many a bad teams because Captains just kept replaying old faces or letting all their friends in.
"Maybe she should have been made Captain," Harry muttered for himself, having no confidence in himself as he at once felt like giving his own best mate a guilty look.
"Don't be ridiculous Harry!" James was clearly scandalized at the comment. "You're going to have a blast with this, you'll see!"
His absolutely assured tone meant Harry couldn't possibly do anything but smile back.
Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.
An hour later they reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon. She already had a fifteen inch essay, two translations, and the books she was carrying all due Wednesday for her Runes.
"I feel like Hermione's being her usual self," Lily's brows crept up in worry. "There's just no way possible all that was assigned for two days from then."
Ron yawned.
Hermione resentfully snapped Snape would be giving them just as much.
"There's an argument they actually never had," Harry mock laughed.
The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair.
Lily clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, trying hard not to direct that at Harry. Was such a nasty description really needed three times in one book? She wasn't particularly fond of him of late either, but there were limits of what was needed.
Silence fell over the queue immediately.
Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already;
"Dark and heartless?" Sirius offered.
it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight.
"Don't be ridiculous Padfoot, you turn into a dog, not a parrot," James smirked over at him, while Sirius didn't at all look upset about mimicking the book.
New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts.
Remus made a snide comment under his breath, causing Sirius to snicker. James grumbled he was too far away to be in on the joke, while one look at their expressions had Lily thankful for the same.
Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures. He told them to put those books away, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk;
"Remember when he used to yell at us for not taking the initiative to copy down every bloody word he said," Harry groused.
Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair as he continued he was going to speak to them first and they were to give their fullest attention.
"When have you ever been denied that?" James asked innocently enough, though both Harry and Lily gave him a frown for that reminder they didn't need.
His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.
All five of them made a face right back for this.
They'd had five teachers in this subject so far, he began,
"Why on Earth did he only recount the ones from my years," Harry rolled his eyes.
"Didn't want to say the number seven thousand I suppose," Sirius shrugged without concern. "Every year it had to get more grating to him," he finished with a satisfied smirk.
"How old do you think this curse is?" Remus asked more curious than anything for Sirius' exaggeration.
Sirius shrugged without concern, his point still stood.
naturally all those teachers methods and priorities had shifted with each. Given this, he was astounded so many had scraped by with any decent grade.
"All thanks to Harry," James primly boasted.
"Dad," Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation, sure he really hadn't done more than help them all along than what they all thought. He was ignored, James' proud smile not dimming more than anyone else's.
He would be even more surprised if all of them managed to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which would be more advanced.
"I still find it a miracle anyone passed their Potions OWL's," Remus huffed, knowing that threat was going to be as literal as it could get.
James and Sirius were just surprised Snape hadn't made yet another snide comment about Moony, yet.
Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view as he continued the Dark Arts were varied, ever-changing, and eternal. To cut of the neck of one would sprout the head of two more, fiercer and cleverer than the last.
"Just call it a hydra you blithering monotone!" Sirius sneered.
"Honestly, he does have to make everything sound oh so important," Remus huffed in agreement.
Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice?
There was an ugly twist to the lips of the Marauders, Harry uneasily noticed, and his mum nibbling at her lip with a distant look in her eye. Harry wondered how many times they'd all seen this developing in Snape's youth, how this speech probably wasn't at all unfamiliar to those growing up with future Death Eaters.
He continued at normal volume their defenses for this then must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo.
Lily couldn't help a small smile for that though, knowing she was the only one but grateful all the same he'd moved on to the importance of this class.
The pictures around them were to show instances of what they may be facing, waving at the Cruciatus Curse,
Harry shivered uneasily, not meeting anyone's eyes. Snape just had to put that one up there, to constantly remind him for the next year what he'd once lived through.
A Dementor's Kiss,
Sirius' skin went sallow. Even now that the threat had been taken from his future life, the reminder it had once had lingered so long over him would not pass soon.
and an Inferius.
Parvati Patil asked if it had been confirmed he was using those?
Snape returned the Dark Lord had used Inferi in the past, which meant it was well-advised to assume he was doing so again.
"He actually managed to answer her without an insult thrown in!" James brows flew up into his hairline. "Glory, he must be in a good mood!"
"I give it another five minutes to last, he'll throw some tripe at Harry soon," Sirius huffed.
He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him. He spoke of the fact that they were complete novices in nonverbal spells, and asked of them what the advantage of those were.
Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice,
"Mildly better than calling her a know-it-all again," Harry grumbled.
before curtly calling upon her.
She gave a text for word answer from the Standard Book of Spells grade 6; the adversary had no warning of what you were fixing to do.
Snape briefly mocked her for that, but agreed in essence it was correct.
Not a skill all could utilize, as some wizards lacked the concentration and mind power for it, his eyes resting on Harry at the end.
"Whew, I was starting to worry about another teacher being replaced," James mock wiped his brow in relief at the renewed insults to his son.
"Not yet sure if I wouldn't prefer Fake-Eye," Remus grumbled, mostly kidding, but at least he'd still been more helpful to Harry's survival before trying to kill him.
Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. He refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape looked away.
He instructed them to divide into pairs and practice this.
Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word,
Sirius let out a surprised whistle, they all looked rather impressed with this except Harry, who thought by now that would have worn off on them.
a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, thought Harry bitterly, but which Snape ignored.
"I'm sure she'll get it from every other teacher in the following classes," James assured with a chuckle.
He swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling with the task.
Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised, waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.
"You could still be practicing while waiting," Remus offered helpfully. "Even helps yourself to hold onto the spell, build up resilience."
Harry gave him a light smile, once again wishing for the dozenth time Professor Lupin had never left.
When Snape saw this he called Weasley pathetic, and offered to show how to properly do it.
He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled Protego!
His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk.
All three boys burst out laughing with surprise for that, while Lily's teeth sank into her lip again, knowing that wasn't going to go over well.
The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling. He demanded of Potter if he recalled the use of nonverbal spells being used.
Harry said yes.
Snape corrected yes sir.
Harry told there was no need to call him sir, Professor.
James snorted so violently he was sure his own nose had been broken, Sirius dissolved into mirthless laughter at once and would not be upright without the support of the sofa, and Remus gave Harry an appreciative nod, "you tell 'em Harry."
To Harry's greatest surprise though, his mother laughed hardest of all, holding her sides for several moments before beaming with pride at her sharp tongued boy. She couldn't have done better herself in giving such a reply to a teacher who deserved it.
It took Harry a moment to even remember he was supposed to keep going. He rarely felt he deserved their praise, but in this instance of his sassing a teacher, he actually just wanted to linger as long as he could on that smirk in place.
Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.
Snape issued a detention at once on Saturday.
"Smarmy bloke," Remus sighed, fighting back the impulse to do the opposite and award Harry house points he deserved as much as Hermione.
"Never could take a joke," Sirius agreed, still in between mirthless laughter. He'd never enjoyed Harry's snark as much as he was in this moment.
Lily brushed her hair out of her face, her laughter finally subsiding enough to frown at them. Snape had laughed at plenty of her jokes, and it saddened her to once again realize just how much he'd changed, where once he would have been laughing as hard as them if she'd done such a thing.
Ron congratulated him as they stepped out of the class, while Hermione scolded that had been a terrible idea!
Harry defended he'd been fixing to be jinxed! He was sick of Snape using him as a guinea pig! What had Dumbledore been thinking, putting him in this class? Did they hear all that stuff he was going on about the Dark Arts, he was in love with them!
Hermione interrupted to say she'd thought he sounded like Harry had last year.
The outrage bursting out of Harry was clear enough even before he'd finished, he didn't need to hear the others shock to continue in hopes she had a very good explanation for this that still wouldn't justify comparing him to that bat!
When he'd first given his speech to the DA, he'd said it was about more than memorizing spells. It took action and cunning, that's exactly what Snape had been saying.
"Many people have said the same thing in a new way," Remus contradicted, though it was in a more kindly tone than either of his friends could have managed, sounding more like he wanted to gently debate the subject with Hermione. "That does not necessarily mean those two are of the same mind, a very simple thought could be taken over a dozen different ways."
"So, don't insult Harry again," Sirius concluded.
Lily huffed and glared at all four of them, was it really such a terrible thing? There had been a time where she would have beamed if her boy turned into anything like her old friend. Not so much now, she'd admit, but it didn't have to be a blanket insult.
Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.
Lily giggled in surprise as Harry's faint blush appeared in here as well.
Then Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment. He handed it off before asking when Quidditch trials were?
Harry said he wasn't sure yet, thinking to himself Sloper would be lucky to make the team again.
"Wasn't he the one that knocked himself out with is own bat?" Sirius said in remembered disgust.
"How he even got on in the first place is still a mystery," James sighed.
Sloper began hoping it was going to be this weekend-
but Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence,
"Can't even blame you, I wouldn't care what he wanted the schedule to be either," James muttered, only marginally more invested in whatever this was Dumbledore was up to.
he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.
Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8.
P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.
"Oh yes, got to watch McGonagall put a shrew in place, and then I in turn did the same," Sirius agreed enthusiastically.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.
Harry laughed Snape wasn't going to be pleased his detention was being put off.
"As if he won't demand it be rearranged," James rolled his eyes.
He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic.
"Because that's so much better," Sirius rolled his eyes.
Remus stayed quite, not really thinking it was any of that, but baffled what it could be nonetheless.
After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period,
"What was the essay over?" Remus asked with far to much curiosity as far as Sirius and James were concerned. They could never sound so caring about something labeled as homework.
"The Theory of Nonverbal Spells and Their Impractical Uses," Harry huffed, his brain still getting a little sore at trying to read through texts about that.
Sirius couldn't help it, Snape's essay or not, the topic did light his intrigue and he opened his mouth to offer up something, but Harry hadn't noticed and kept going.
(though she considerably sped up the process). They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.
When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous manner.
He greeted Harry by offering his hand, again congratulating him for his show in DA, and then greeted Ron and Hermione.
Before they could say more than fine, the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door.
James couldn't help but snort at all the flashbacks that caused, they'd said many a same thing about him.
As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.
Remus clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes, some things never changed, while Lily giggled just a bit at thinking the exact same.
The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he might have smelled at the Burrow.
"Amortentia," Lily said at once, though only Harry had looked to her for an answer.
James in particular had an unnaturally grumpy look on his face, still remembering the sting of his son thinking he'd used a love potion on his wife, or some other way for them to be together. He wasn't fond of them at the moment at any rate.
He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned back lazily.
Slughorn asked that they all have their scales and kits out, and turn their copies of Advanced Potion-Making to page-
Harry politely cut in to say he didn't have any things for this class, nor did Ron, explaining they'd thought they couldn't take the class.
Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.
Harry couldn't properly explain it, but he felt a sharp tingling tracing up his spine for this. It was ridiculous of course, he'd just been given some old things, nothing was going to come of that.
Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off,
"You learn to duck fast in that class," Sirius smirked, and Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was kidding or speaking from experience.
and began he'd prepared some potions they'd all come to recognize by the end of this class, and they ought to have at least heard of them by now. He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.
"Veritaserum," Lily sighed, not appreciating the reminder of what Snape had once threatened to use on Harry, and in turn used to interrogate someone still that same year.
Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her. She quoted the properties of Veritaserum verbatim.
Slughorn happily congratulated her before pointing to the next at the Ravenclaws table, giving them a hint this one had been mentioned by the Ministry's pamphlets of late.
Hermione's hand was fastest once more, stating it as Polyjuice Potion.
Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron,
"Can't hardly forget that one," Harry's nose again crinkled in remembered disgust.
but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.
Lily sighed in exasperation, that one still blew her mind.
Slughorn had barely gestured to the one at their table before, now looking slightly bemused, called Hermione's hand punching the air again. She identified this one as Amortentia, the strongest Love Potion in the world. The details of which were that it gave off an aroma unique to each person. She smelled freshly mown grass, new parchment, and-
But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.
"Wonder why," Sirius said with honest interest, it's not as if it was really that revealing.
Slughorn asked for her name, and once given, speculated if she was related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?
"Would make his day to find another pureblood he could kiss up to," James sniffed.
"Instead he gets to meet another Lily," Sirius rolled his eyes while she flushed and glared at the pair.
She corrected she doubted this, as she was Muggle-born.
Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.
He quoted Harry from the summer saying one of his best friends was the best in his year and Muggle-born, this must be that very friend.
Harry agreed, and Slughorn awarded her twenty house points for correctly identifying them all.
Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face.
'Ah, good memories,' all of the boys were smirking again at once, thinking something similar.
Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered if he'd really said that?
Ron grumbled what was the big deal, for some reason looking annoyed.
"That, Harry gave the compliment and not him?" Remus asked in confusion. Harry shrugged, he had no clue of that reaction either.
He'd have said the same thing if anyone had asked him.
Slughorn continued on Amortentia, calling it the most powerful potion in this room, emphasizing this at the sceptical looks on some faces like Malfoy. When they'd lived as long as he had, they'd know how powerful and obsessive something like love could be.
"Sounds like he's speaking from experience," Harry said in surprise. He didn't often think about a teachers home life, but did suddenly wonder if Slughorn had been leaving more than old students in his trail of houses.
"I can't say for sure," Lily said with a bit of dignity, she didn't like to pry into her teachers lives.
Slughorn then tried to call attention to today's work, but Ernie cut in to ask about the potion still on his desk, which was full of bright gold potion that was all but leaping out of its very surface.
Harry shifted with that feeling all over again, he really didn't like he had one for all four of those potions, though all for varying reasons. He glanced hopefully at his mum, seeing at once she recognized it, and wasn't disappointed. "Felix Felicis. Highly dangerous if brewed just a tiny bit incorrectly, poisonous if taken regularly, but Merlin does it have some effect on the world."
The faint blush she ended with had all of the boys turning to look at her in the end though, James asked slowly, "Lily, did you happen to ever use some?"
She feigned as if she hadn't heard, giggling in a girlish way Harry hadn't really seen quite yet. However, she refused to elaborate, and waved her son on. He only grudgingly did so when a solid ten minutes of her husbands pestering proved futile.
Harry at once knew Slughorn had forgotten no such thing, but had saved it for dramatic affect. Slughorn wasn't at all surprised when Hermione told it was Felix Felicis, and that it made the drinker lucky.
The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.
"Is that all it took," James grumbled, huffier than usual with one eye still on his wife, who still kept breaking out into snickers.
He mentioned all the good of the potion, but once Terry asked why people didn't just drink it all the time, Slughorn explained all it's dangers as well.*
He'd had it twice, both perfect days. He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good.
"Nah, I'm confident that one's real," Sirius rolled his eyes.
He concluded it would be a prize for today's lesson. There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold. He pulled a tiny vile out of his pocket of the very same potion, enough for twelve hours.
"Hope Hermione uses it for something good," James grumbled, still giving his wife a pouting look she wouldn't acknowledge.
He first warned it was banned from sporting events, examinations, or elections, so be sure to only use it on an ordinary day, and watch it become extraordinary!
Then he told them to flip to their book on the Draught of Living Death.
There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.
"A phrase you'll never hear Snape accomplish," Remus smirked.
Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day.
"Least we know he can't bribe his way into it," James finally stopped eyeing the red head to sneer at the book.
"His will probably be the worst attempt, he never had to try in that class," Sirius agreed.
Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him.
To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could.
Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing;
Lily tisked, she'd found by the end of the first year what an advantage and disadvantage that could be. It truly was sad Harry was still picking up on such things years too late.
this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.
Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:
Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
"Oh," Lily blinked at that.
"What?" James asked curiously, hoping she'd at least answer one question today.
"That'll work extremely well, seems this book gives very good advice, instead of just nonsense like Harry was thinking," Lily said, but there was a curious look on her face. There weren't many people who knew that trick.
Harry glanced up when Malfoy called for the Professor's attention, pointing out Slughorn had known his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy.
Slughorn indifferently agreed, though he had been saddened at his death, but dragon pox at that age...
Then he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.
The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to Hermione, asking to borrow her knife.
She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now.
Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all.
Harry's surprised little smile about made Lily's day. It was high time he finally saw the good this class could offer.
Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.
His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he had to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir.
Lily's brows disappeared right into her hairline now. How many students would have spent the time to figure that out, and wrote them down in an old potions textbook?
Could the old owner be right twice?
Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.
Hermione demanded how he'd done that, red faced with frustration her own was still purple.
He began to explain the trick of a clockwise stir, but she snappily said the book said counterclockwise!
"Why'd she snap if she didn't want to hear the answer?" Sirius laughed hard at Hermione's temper showing like that.
"What do you lot make of this?" Harry demanded, the eagerness in his voice far more than the Marauders understood.
"Some barmy kid was actually good at potions and took notes," Remus shrugged without concern.
"Probably blew a potion or two in their face trying," Sirius added with a smirk.
"Likely dumped the thing when they realized no one cared," James finished with an eye roll.
Lily pressed her lips together to stop herself laughing again. She still wasn't quite convinced yet, but those boys had just described a large amount of time in her youth, with her best friend, except that last part.
Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing.
Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.
Lily couldn't help it now, her buoyant mood wouldn't keep the laugh contained, but the boys gave it no thought. Of course she'd be happy Harry was finally enjoying her favorite class.
Slughorn finally called for times up. He moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod.
"I don't get it," Harry said, glancing from the book in his lap to his mum. "Why would mine be better than Hermione's, if she's following all the instructions?"
"Hermione's about to learn a hard lesson about Potioneering," Lily happily explained. "Of course if you follow the instructions you'll get your desired Potion, Hermione's drought would have caused the same endless sleep as yours. However, because the previous owner spent the time to ruminate, perfect, tweak the potion even, your affects will be longer lasting, and much stronger. Potions are the only magic meant to be tampered with, carefully of course," she finished with a rueful hand down her bright hair.
Harry wondered how many times she'd singed it off by tweaking a potion. She certainly seemed very keen on the idea, and while Harry knew she'd liked the subject before, he'd never seen her so serious on it as she was now.
Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face. Announcing his as the clear winner! He'd certainly inherited his mother's talents!
Lily laughed harder than she meant to, really getting the boys attention now, but still she shook her head, not willing to admit yet what was on her mind. She really wasn't even sure what their reaction would be, and for now they just looked bemused, so she'd take that as long as she could.
Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione's. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.
Ron asked what he'd done, and Harry said he'd gotten lucky while Malfoy was still in ear shot.
Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered. He huffed if she really thought he'd cheated?
"It's not cheating," James rolled his eyes at once. Of course Hermione would be ticked her way hadn't worked.
"So Harry got a better instruction manual, according to Lily, that means someone out there could still do the Potion even better the next time," Sirius agreed.
She stiffly responded it hadn't exactly been his own work.
Ron just waved off he got different instructions. Slughorn could have just as easily given that book to him, but he'd only gotten one that someone puked on page fifty-two.
"Why was he looking that far ahead?" Remus chuckled in surprise, but answered his own question in his head. At the point Ron realized he wasn't winning, he supposed he would have started flipping through pages out of boredom.
A voice close by Harry's left ear cut in, and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them.
Sirius burst out laughing in surprise at that. "I suppose Ginny spends a lot of time out in the gardens?"
Harry didn't really answer, just a muttered agreement, his mind felt suddenly loose from his body at her sudden appearance and he tried to shake that off, unsuccessfully.
Her voice was sharp, concerned, as she demanded if he'd really been taking instructions from a book.
"Oh," James murmured, all the humor vanishing almost at once from the room. That wasn't something nearly as fond to be remembered, the poor girl probably still had nightmares about that.
She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once. He promised it was nothing like Riddle's diary, just some notes someone had scribbled down.
Hermione was excited Ginny could have a point.
"Yes, if the book's evil, that makes it okay it outsmarted you," Remus rolled his eyes.
She snatched it away from him and did a Specialis Revelio spell, but nothing happened.
Harry snatched it back, asking if she wanted to see it do backflips.
"Can it?" Sirius asked with only mild sarcasm. "That would have made reading them some actual fun sometimes."
"Bit more a challenge, couldn't hurt," James agreed.
As he tried to put it away into his bag, it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.
This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.
Harry's eyes flipped wide in surprise, a harsh thump like before pressing in on him leaving no doubt he should know that name, recognize it to see it meant something.
He was distracted at once though by his mother throwing her head back laughing.
HPHPHPHP
I know, I know, you all hate me for again cutting off the good reaction. Promise everything you're wanting to ask will come up in the next chapter!
*This potion is one of the more common complaints I've seen of the HP world, and I think people forget this line in particular. It's not common, would take Hermione ages to make, and would be extremely dangerous to use consecutively to get a job done. I like that magic clearly has limits and downsides in this world, it makes it more real to me, instead of everything just having an easy solution if you take one bit of the answer and ignore the rest.
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matildashoney · 4 years
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Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Six
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MASTERLIST
MOODBOARD // PREV/IEW(S) // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST
TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou​​, @cock-a-doodely-doo
WARNING: CHAPTER INCLUDES SEXUAL CONTENT.
talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!
Sunday Dinner.
One day a week that was designated for the family to gather around – especially now that two out of three of the children have left the nest – and have a nice, home-cooked dinner and dessert and a film that everyone has seen one too many times.
Mom and Dad’s house never changed. Always the same tinted beige on the siding, a gentle baby blue shutter outside every window, the colourful florals filling the boxes on the top floor. Dad wanted the Southern Charm. Mom wanted a taste of Paris. They settled on something near California twang. On the interior, Mom made home. All of the walls decorated with family portraits and your paintings and the photographs that Grandma gave her on her very last visit. All of it – the cracks in the wood, the chips in the paint, crooked frames – was home.
Dad and Brandon are in the living room, Mom outside tending to the garden of vegetables that would begin blooming in the near future, Phoebe in her bedroom talking about something One Direction-related obnoxiously.
Hiding Harry – and the relationship she has with him – away from Phoebe might be the hardest part.
“Hello, hello,” Mom quips as Amelie walks inside, toeing her shoes at the carpet and laying her bag on the makeshift table, the golden trotting to her side to greet her. “Dad’s in the living room with B. Phoebe is upstairs. Have everything almost done!”
Mom is clad in her favourite Sunday Outfit – the necessarily painted jeans, a white blouse, and her favourite slippers that she purchases from a tiny shop in the outskirts of Paris every time she visits home. Her hair is greying ginger, and although she loves it, she refuses to colour it. Makes me feel wise, sweetheart.
“Mama,” Amelie says hesitantly, kissing her cheek, sitting on the chipping barstools – her idea was that every year her children would repaint their barstool, and eventually all the paint would become an eclectic memory – and taking a sliver of the tomato chopped on the cutting board, “j'ai besoin de votre aide pour quelque chose.”
Mama, I need your help with something.
Mom sets the knife down, her palms flat on the counter, her light green eyes staring into her daughter’s. “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”
“Know how I told you that I started seeing someone,” Amelie begins, her heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks flushed with her anxiety and the anticipation. “He’s in Melbourne, right now. He’ll be there for Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay,” Mom urges, her attention moving to the exaggerated shouting in the living room from her husband and eldest.
“I,” she stutters, her palms sweaty and sticking to her jeans, her tongue wetting her chapped lips, “I think I want to go see him.”
“Chéri,” Mom coos, walking around the counter and settling on the stool nearest to her, taking her hands in hers and drawing circles with her thumbs, “qui est ce garçon?”
“His name is Harry,” she murmurs, laying her phone on the counter and showing her their favourite picture from his birthday a week earlier. “He’s on tour.”
Mom’s eyes are wide, fully aware of who Harry is. Her mouth is slightly agape, her hand covering her parted lips as she stares at the picture – Harry kissing Amelie’s cheek, his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands covering her eyes. Her cheeks shade a light pink, her sigh sounding in a tone of awe.
“That’s the Harry from Phoebe’s band, yeah? One Direction,” Mom says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, ensuring that her youngest wouldn’t hear and interrupt the conversation. “Comment as-tu réussi ce coup, mon amour?”
“No idea, Mama,” she sighs, a smile tugging at her lips as his contact swipes across the screen with a message. “He’s so good to me.”
Good morning, doll. Have fun at family dinner. Call me when you’re home. x
“You love Harry,” Mom smiles, kissing her hair sweetly, standing from the crooked stool and reaching for her laptop, opening the screen and gathering all the information for a flight. “Nona did this for me, especially when Dad flew to North Carolina for that film. Great Grandma did that Nona when she wanted to take the train to Papa in Paris for the weekend.”
“Didn’t know that Nona took a train to Paris for Papa,” Amelie murmurs, typing in the information for the airport that Glenne had given her the day before. “You flew to North Carolina for Dad.”
“Il faut savoir ce que tu veux et aller le chercher, chérie.” Mom pokes her head into the living room, Dad grinning ear to ear to see her, Brandon waving towards her as Daisy nudges at his hand to pet her. “En utilisant la carte de crédit, mon amour.”
“Okay,” Dad hums, standing to give her a kiss. “Guessing by how quiet you are, I shouldn’t say anything to Phoebe or B.”
“Our secret,” Mom smirks, kissing his cheek sweetly. “Doing what Mama asked us to do like they did for us. Giving her a chance.”
“Good.” Dad squeezes her into a hug, Mom melting into him. “Hi, honeybee.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Oh mon Dieu,” Mom squeaks, rushing to the stove and quieting the heat, ensuring that the meal wouldn’t burn. “All the time.”
“J'ai failli brûler sa cuisine la semaine dernière,” she giggles, shaking your head at the memory. “Not fully burnt down, but I definitely burnt our chicken and ordered us pizza, instead.”
“Happens to the best, and worst, of us.”
“No longer allowed in his kitchen unless I’m supervised,” she laughs, her attention turning to the doorway where her youngest sister stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “Oh, what’s wrong, Pheebs? You look like someone told you a concert got cancelled.”
“Have a show on Valentine’s Day and Cassie was supposed to livestream and apparently the internet in the arena is being worked on,” Phoebe sighs, hugging her momentarily and settling onto the stool beside her, her eyes squinting suspiciously as she closes her phone and lays it beneath her thigh. “Cancelled going to a party so I could watch with Cass.”
“Can’t you still go to the party? Not like you were uninvited,” she reasons, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest with anxiety.
Does Phoebe know already?
“Guess so,” she sighs frustratedly, shaking her head and heaving a breath with annoyance. “I’ll probably stay home and wait for updates, anyways.”
Mom’s eyes meet hers, Have you told her?
Of course not, she mouths, forcing a smile as her younger sister takes the cutlery and sets it along the table.
“God, you’ve gotten weirder since you turned twenty.”
Have to tell her soon, Mom whispers, kissing Phoebe’s hair as she takes the decorated plates and begins laying each on their designated mat – the ones that we painted every year that we needed a new change in the kitchen aura – to accompany the meal.
Know that and I will, she swears, her eyes meeting her younger sister and opening her arms for a hug, smiling as she stalks towards her with a pout on her lips. “I’m sure someone will livestream the show, Pheebs.”
“I’m just annoyed,” she grumbles, leaning her cheek on her sister’s shoulder and having her arms hang loosely around her torso. “Can I be an adult already and get to travel to see all of my favourite shows whenever I want, already?”
“Don’t think that’s how it works,” Amelie hums, stifling her laughter against her hand, her lips tucking into her mouth to mask your smile.
“Harry would probably pay for his girlfriend’s flight to visit him. Niall, too,” she groans. “That is such an unfair thing. There is someone out there that gets to love Harry Styles.”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
“Enough with the impending doom until after supper, Phoebe,” Mom muses, shaking her head and walking into the living room to tell Dad and B. Her wink towards her telling her that she could see the anxiety on her face, encouraging her to relax.
Having – more or less – hippies as a mother and father, Family Dinner is certainly something other than functional and orderly.
Mom talks about the novel she sent to the editor earlier in the week, one more approval needed to finalise one section of the publication contract. Dad mentions in passing that he has to be at a film set early in the morning for the promotional campaign shoot. Heads turn as Brandon brings up asking Autumn – his girlfriend since the age of thirteen – to marry him. Phoebe complains about not seeing Harry and Niall as soon as she wanted. Congratulations ensued as Amelie mentions that the mural at the bakery is complete and perfected.
I’ll take you to the airport, Mom whispers as Amelie hugs her goodbye. Her petite body wraps tightly around hers, squeezing her tightly. You should tell Phoebe before someone else tells her.
Calling Harry on her way home, her mind is racing with all that her mother said, all that her sister said, all that she has to be done before she leaves in a mere three days.
Harry talks quietly in the background as she readies herself for the night, her hair strung in a towel and one of the band’s tour shirts clinging to her damp skin, her lips coated with her – and his – favourite chapstick. He mentions the flowers that are outside his hotel, how the season is so much brighter than London. He asks about Mom and Dad, Phoebe and Brandon. One day I’ll bring you out here, Harry says.
All that replays in her mind is her mother’s words, and the flight confirmation sitting in her email.
Have to know what you want and get it, honey.
/ / /
“Welcome to Melbourne,” the flight attendant announces on the speaker, the lights slowly beginning to brighten and wake the sleeping guests scattered about the plane. Amelie’s carry on is tucked in the overhead bin, an older gentleman offering to get it for her as she struggled to reach.
If Harry was here, he’d be making fun of you for being too short.
Amelie sinks into Harry’s sweatshirt, smirking at the fact that her father would be seething with her wearing a Greenbay Packers anything. Her fingers quickly type on the screen, Harry’s name with an accompanying picture at the centre.
Need your hotel and room number, please and thank you. Don’t ask questions.
Harry takes a minute to respond and Amelie can see the expression on his face, the furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, his bottom lip pulled between his fingertips.
The Langham, Room 702. I’m about to get in the shower. Should I stay out a bit longer?
Her mouth curves into a smile as she notices a bouquet selection near the exit. Her attention immediately goes to the sunflowers and daisies in the corner, paying and quickly making her way outside to meet the security guard that Niall arranged with her.
Give it like twenty minutes.
His response comes immediately, the suspicion evident in his text. He doesn’t question her, simply responding and taking a seat on the unmade bed. He shuts the water in the shower, heaving a breath and sinking into the mattress, trying to think through everything.
Alright.
Laying there is unbearable, Harry standing up and beginning to pace around his bedroom nervously. He can’t quite grasp the idea of her coming to Melbourne. That would be simply impossible with university and the artwork projects and family dinners.
That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?
Although unlikely, twenty minutes felt like hours. Harry wasn’t a patient person. He became bored easily and the idea of having to wait for something his girlfriend was surprising him with, and being without a single idea, gave him a headache.
His ears perk to the knocking on his suite door, quiet chatter outside, his feet padding against the carpet and his hands yanking a stray shirt over his naked torso. His chest deflates at the sight of Niall holding a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies – certainly from her.
“How–”
“Quite the selection they have at the airport,” Amelie squeaks, laying her miniature knapsack against the wall and smiling, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his arms circle her waist, squeezing her into him as tightly as physically possible. “Harry, I can’t breathe.”
“Bye, you two,” Niall smirks, handing Harry the bouquet and turning to return to his suite.
Harry chuckles, releasing his grip on her slightly, taking the bouquet from his friend and nudging her bag inside with his foot, his arm continuing to stay wrapped around her and hugging her to his chest. “Sorry, I’ve just missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” she whispers, closing the door behind her, his cheeks taken in her hands, her lips moulding to his and soaking in his kiss, the bouquet set on the nearby table, his fingertips gripping her hips. “Glad you didn’t shower and leave me out there.”
“Would never do that to you,” he smirks, his thumbs tracing her bottom lip, stealing a kiss innocently. “Can’t believe you’re here.”
“One very long flight later,” she smirks, kissing his cheek and jaw sweetly, her arms squeezing him tighter in her embrace. “Good thing I sleep on planes.”
“Forty fucking hours, love,” Harry whispers, gently nudging her cheek, his mouth moulding onto hers and savouring the way she kisses him.
Amelie smiles against his lips, obsessed with the way his reaction made her heart swell against her chest and heat radiate on her skin. “Considering I can wake up with you on Valentine’s Day, it’ll be worth it.”
“Tell me you didn’t bring that knapsack and that’s it.”
“Had to check into m’room and shower, first,” she says, lightly tugging on the curls and kissing the vein in his neck, smiling at his moan as her lips touch the centre and nip at his skin. “All of m’stuff is there.”
“You’re not staying in another room,” Harry breathes shakily, his hands travelling across her hips and squeezing her bum. “You’ll stay with your boyfriend.”
“Know that but I needed to get here without you finding out,” she smirks, a heavy breath leaving her lips as his mouth begins mapping kisses along her neck, biting into the skin and marking her, their bodies walking backwards into the bedroom, his hands gently nudging her against the wall.
“Must’ve cost loads,” Harry mutters, his lips sweetly kissing her jaw. “You’re not allowed to buy another plane ticket to see me. I’ll get it.”
“Can thank Mom for me being here,” Amelie sighs, adoring the feeling of his mouth on her, the way his fingertips dig into her hips, holding her tightly to him. “Bought m’flight and all that. Came from a whole story about women in m’family travelling for their men. Apparently, it’s a thing they do. Take chances on nice guys, and all that.”
“Oh,” Harry smirks cockily at that, his teeth dragging her bottom lip as he kisses her hungrily, the briefs beginning to feel all too tight against his cock and tensing thighs. “’m a nice guy to take a chance on, then?”
“Think so,” Amelie moans, her eyelashes laying against her cheeks, all her thoughts hyper-focused on Harry’s hands trailing beneath her – his – sweatshirt, his thumbs tracing over the curves of her breasts. “Can feel you trying to distract me about the flight.”
“Give up on paying for your next flight,” Harry says sternly, silently praising the way there wasn’t a lacy bralette to get in his way. “Quicker you do that, quicker you’ll have the best shag of your life on that unmade bed, over there.”
“Fine.”
“My sweatshirt, hm?” Harry smirks, gently taking the material and tossing it onto the carpet, the cotton leggings adoring her hips rubbing uncomfortably against his hips. Her lips suck at the skin on his collarbone, the skin bright red and adorning a temporary mark.
“You left it,” Amelie mutters against him. Her thighs tense at the feeling of his fingertips ghosting across the lace waistband of her panties, his thumbs tucked into the material and dragging it slightly. “Harry.”
“Did it on purpose.” Harry nudges Amelie against the mattress, her cheeks flushing as his eyes travel along her body, taking in every inch of her figure, the curves and the tattoos and the lines that make her. “Up,” he murmurs, smiling as she lifts her hips and her panties accompany the clothing on the ground.
Harry kisses her inner thighs sweetly, coaxing her to relax with his touch. He gently massages her hips, smiling against her skin as she breathes out an airy moan, her fingertips curling through his hair, his arms tucked under her bum to have her core meet his mouth. He lays his tongue against her heat, savouring the way she tastes so sweet, his lips suckling on her clit the way she loves.
Amelie’s moans spur him further, the moans vibrating against her making the orgasm overwhelm her senses. His fingertips tease her heat, gently inching into her and curling against the velvet walls that squeeze him, the sucking against the nerves between her thighs having her chase her orgasm with white vision and moans.
His tongue continues to lay on her heat, taking her orgasm and humming with the taste, his fingertips between his lips to have all of her. His smirk is enough to make her squeeze her thighs together, the way he is so happy to please her making her want to have him again and again and again. He sponges kisses along her inked thighs and belly, teasingly biting her nipples as his mouth works his way back to hers.
“Get on the bed,” Amelie tells him, her jaw clenched as Harry smirks and tosses the remaining clothes on his torso. “Don’t smirk at me like that.”
“Not doing anything,” Harry smirks, his cheeks tinging pink as Amelie manoeuvres around him and settles between his thighs. “Gon’a kill me looking at me like that.”
Her fingertips ghost across his thighs, her lips touching his skin, smirking against him as his hand gently takes her hair away from her face. Her tongue wets her skin, her hand gently wrapping around his cock, her thumb spreading the arousal around his shaft, his breathy moans echoing around her.
Amelie slowly eases over him, hollowing her cheeks and sucking, her tongue swirling around his throbbing tip the way he loves, her hand pumping all that she couldn’t take. Her fingertips squeeze his hip, his arousal and orgasm beginning to taste on her tongue.
“God, this is so much better than me trying to pretend it’s you,” Harry moans, his head rolling onto the pillow as her innocent eyes meet his.
“Oh, baby, you think about me,” Amelie hums, the vibrations making his hips ache and thrust into her mouth.
Harry groans as she takes all of him, his cock hitting her throat and her tongue taking his arousal. “Certainly, don’t think about m’hand.” His orgasm is reaching him quickly, his panting rapid and causing his chest to heave. “Need to be in you, doll.”
Amelie smirks, kissing the inked thigh and laying her lips across his heated skin. Harry squeezes her hips above his waist, making her pause, her breathing shaky as she realises what he’s implying. “Are you sure? Don’t wan’a hurt you.”
“Love, I promise you won’t,” Harry says shakily, moving beneath her and laying his back against the wooden headboard, his lip taken between his teeth as she gently settles on his thighs. “Go slow, I’ve got you.”
Amelie nods nervously, smiling shyly as Harry squeezes her thigh encouragingly. His hands hold her hips, coaxing her forward slightly, his cock hard and throbbing against her heat. He nudges her to lean onto her knees, his skin prickling with bumps as he gently eases into her, her warmth surrounding his shaft and squeezing him in her velvet walls.
Amelie intertwines her fingers with his, her pelvis rolling and grinding, his knees tucked behind her, his hips thrusting to meet her. Her mouth parts with her moans, the friction against the nerves between her thighs making her legs shake. Harry leans forward, his lips sponging kisses along her jaw, suckling a mark on her chest. His hands take her hips, smiling as her arms circle around his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. His thrusts meet a rhythm with the way her hips beginning rotating, a heavy moan leaving his throat as she squeezes him, easing him out inch by inch.
“Want you deeper,” Amelie moans, meeting his mouth with a chaste kiss, his knees parting her thighs, his figure laying over hers.
Harry sinks into her, her warmth soaking him in, squeezing him tightly. He kisses her jaw, her thighs wrapped around his waist, his cock bottoming out and reaching her hit with every thrust. His orgasm is heating in his stomach, sweat sticking the curls to his forehead, her moans in his ear making him want to bust. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, holding him in her, her climax warm and milking around him. His orgasm spills inside her, his panting hot against her neck. His mouth breaks into a smile as her hands take his cheeks and her lips kiss his sweetly, her ankles slowly unlocking around his bum and laying lazily on the bed.
“Good, you’re so good,” Harry hums, gently sliding out and lying beside her. His arm slings over her waist, pulling her into his chest, his cheek laying against her shoulder. “Have you spoken to your mum since you got here?”
“Oh fuck,” Amelie swears, snagging her sweatshirt and tugging it over her torso, pulling her phone out and sending messages to her mother and best friend. “Done.”
“Care to leave the pants off for the evening,” Harry winks, laughing loudly as Amelie rolls her eyes at him. He takes his phone, smirking and beginning to type against his screen, hiding the phone away from her obnoxiously.
Laying her head on his chest, she presses a kiss to the butterfly adorning his abdomen, her cheek resting on her forearms. “What are you doing?”
“Making a list of all the places I want to shag you in.”
“God, you’re annoying.”
“That wasn’t telling me to quit.” Harry grabs her cheeks and kisses her, smirking at the way her lips perfectly adorn his at every angle. “Got to check off Aus, thank you for that.”
Amelie hides her face in her hands, trying to mask the smile that is etched into her features. Only a few weeks ago she was telling him that she couldn’t understand why he stared at her in such a way, and now she can feel herself doing the same. “Have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Mr Styles?”
“Considering m’girlfriend is here,” he hums, carding his fingers through her hair and delicately brushing the stray hairs away from her forehead, her fringe freshly cut and swaying beneath her eyebrows, her lips tinted red with the kisses. “Have a few thoughts in mind.”
“Dirty thoughts, I’m assuming.”
“Could be,” he drawls teasingly, his eyes narrowing at her as she pinches his hip. “Have a show on Valentine’s Day, so could we makeshift tomorrow to be our Valentine’s Day? Have breakfast and an early swim, avoid all the crowds. Only us.” His eyes brighten with her smile. Harry loves seeing Amelie happy. “Can plan something special for dinner, later on.”
“Good thing I brought something nice to wear," Amelie smiles, heaving a sigh as she straddles Harry’s thighs and slips off the bed, giggling at his groans and complaint of her leaving. “Have a dress for tomorrow.”
“Ooh,” Harry hums, following her into the bathroom and leaning against the wall, admiring away she mills about the space, gathering her toiletries and pyjamas for the night. “Haven’t seen you in a dress before.”
“Only on special occasions.”
“Love that you consider me a special occasion,” he says, walking towards her as she turns the water on in the porcelain bath, testing the temperature with her fingers. He wraps his arms around her waist, kissing the sweet spot at the nape of her neck, smirking against her skin as she shivers. “What are you doing?”
“Need a bath, I’m sticky.” Her words spew out without thinking and her eyes roll as soon as she feels Harry’s smirk against her skin. “Harry, don’t you dare say something.”
“Didn’t say a word, doll.” He kisses her shoulder, releasing her from his grasp and walking to the shower, the water sputtering against the glass. “Want to take a shower with me? Warm in there.”
“Having you as a distraction in there? No thank you.”
“And you think I won’t distract you in the bathtub,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, walking to the tub and turning off the faucet, taking her hand in his and smirking as she reluctantly walks with him. “Think very highly of me, love.”
“Hope to have a minute of peace, in here, that’s all,” Amelie moans, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as he kisses her cheek, patting her bum to get into the shower.
“Not gon’a happen,” he chuckles, shutting the door as he steps inside. He smiles widely, taking in the way the water falls over her and her fringe clings to her forehead. They’ve not showered together before, only staying in the bathroom while the other bathed, and there was something intimate about the experience and the way Amelie trusts him enough to do so. “Did you have a nice flight, at least? Layover somewhere, I’m assuming,” he says, taking the shampoo and squirting the liquid into her hand.
“Mhm,” she hums, lathering her hair and soaking in the warmth around them. Harry is the first man she’s ever showered with, and the thought about how much she truly trusted him made her anxiety heighten. Begging her brain to quiet down, she asks the thoughts to leave her alone and have her enjoy the moment. “Slept everywhere I could.”
“Knowing you,” Harry winks, nudging Amelie’s hip and rinsing the soap smoothly, his eyes drifting across her body as her sponge coats her skin with bubbles, “that sounds about right.”
“Brought a bathing suit with me,” Amelie mutters, playfully pushing his chest to move under the water. “Only go to the beach a few times a year so you better take your opportunity to see me in a swimsuit and run with it.”
“Happily.” He kisses her cheek, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, grabbing a new one for her from the stack near the sink. He admires her as she wraps the cotton around her figure, her hair clinging to her skin, her face slightly flushed from the heat. He tugs her into a hug, smiling as she wraps her arms around him. He’s learnt that she loves the unexpected hugs, the affection that is genuine and means something to the other person. His nose smells her hair, the scent that he could only describe as her lingering in the air. “Ooh, you smell good.”
“Compliment central, over here,” she smirks, kissing his shoulder and squeezing his hips. Amelie presses her lips to his cheeks to compensate for the lack of touch, his lips pouting as she shuffles into the bedroom to grab the sweatshirt and panties from her knapsack, her towel strung around her hair to dry.
“Can’t help a crush, love,” Harry says, yanking a pair of sweatpants up his legs, the waistband low on his hips and displaying the ferns that she loved to trace. “Huge one at that, doll.”
“Hm,” Amelie hums, taking her hairbrush out and beginning to comb through the ends. “You’re staring.”
“Le’ me brush your hair,” he says, coaxing the brush and nodding towards the mattress with messy sheets and a duvet. They couldn’t be bothered to make a mess beneath the comforter, too caught up in the moment. He smiles at her, taking in the way she situates herself between his thighs as he centres himself on the bed. “I’ll be gentle.”
“Okay,” she agrees, tilting her head back and smiling, her heart swelling in her chest as he gently kisses her lips, her nose, her forehead. “Hi.”
“Hi, love.” Harry turns on the television, delicately combing through her wet hair and soaking in the simplicity and intimacy of the moment. He never envisioned himself the kind to desire the moments like these, the ones that were simply him and the one he adores – loves – taking in the silence around them. “You look beautiful.”
“Currently in pyjamas,” Amelie says, shocked in the way that Harry could be so easily impressed by the simplest of things.
“Okay, and,” he says, setting the hairbrush on the bedside table and running his fingers through her hair, smirking as he notices her closed eyes and parted lips. He kisses her cheek, his thumb drawing a line along her jaw. “Don’t nod off when ’m talking to you, you cheeky thing. You’re gon’a kill m’ego."
Amelie squeezes his knee, barely opening her eyes to meet his stare. The way Harry looks at her makes her want to melt. No one has ever looked at her like that. “Your voice is soothing; I like listening to you.”
“Can read to you if you wanted,” Harry offers, moving his arm to have her manoeuvre onto her side, her hair tucked into the hood of the sweatshirt as she shares his pillow. Amelie isn’t a fan of cuddling at night, especially when she’s feeling far away, but she never strays too far. “’m halfway through your book.”
“Are you? How are you feeling about it?” she wonders curiously, her voice quieting as she begins to drift to sleep. “Careful, this is my favourite book you’re about to bash.”
“Like it,” Harry assures her. “Quite fitting with your fucked-up romance theme you go for.” He chuckles quietly as her chest heaves with heavy breaths. “Are you going to fall asleep while I read to you?”
“Most likely,” Amelie murmurs, taking his hand and squeezing it, kissing his palm sweetly before letting go, her hands tucking under her cheek as she snuggles beneath the duvet. “Goodnight, baby.”
“Night, love.”
Harry opens the novel besides the bed, the cracked spine folding beneath his fingertips. He opens to the bookmarked page, smiling as a highlighted quote catches his eye.
“And then she kisses me. It's the kind of kiss that makes me lose track of everything, and so it may take hours or minutes by the time we break apart.”
~
Harry admires the waves crashing ashore, the sun shining brightly in the sky, the golden hue tanning their skin as they lay peacefully and privately on their towels. He found the perfect spot – so he believes – away from the suspecting and invading eye, secluded and private to allow them to simply be alone. Amelie lays beside him, her sunglasses tucked on her nose, her cheek resting on her forearms as she stares at him, taking in the olive tone and tinted tattoos.
“Could you put more sunscreen on me, baby?” Amelie questions, handing him the bottle and smiling as the top clicks open.
“Mhm,” Harry hums, squirting the cream in his hands and beginning to rub it into her skin. His hands go beneath the band, his fingers searching for a clasp to unhook. “Can’t unclasp the top, love.”
“Not meant to,” she smirks, shaking her head and clicking her tongue disapprovingly as his bottom lip juts into a pout. “Know you, Styles. Knew what you were going to do.”
“I am insulted, love.” His voice feigns his innocence, the glimmer in his clearly displaying his true intentions. “How dare you think so lowly of me!”
“Mhm,” Amelie muses, playfully smacking his thigh as his hands travel closer to her bum. “Hands above the waist in public.”
“Have to ruin our makeshift Valentine’s Day, huh.”
“You got laid two hours ago! How am I ruining Valentine’s Day?”
“Wan’a see your boobies,” Harry mutters, gently tugging at the edge of the bathing suit, his lips tucked together to stifle the laughter.
“Harry, boobies, really?” Amelie groans, nudging his hand away from her chest, rotating her head slightly to stare at him. “Are you thirteen?”
“Find that saying, ‘wan’a see your tits’ is quite crude to your girlfriend, so,” he muses, smacking her bum playfully as he stands on his feet, his toes tucked in the sand, his hair shaking out on her freshly coated skin. “Okay, I’m going for a swim. Have fun without me.”
“You’re unbearable,” she grumbles, trying to hide her smirk through a bitten lip, her heart sinking as he begins to walk away. “Wait.”
“Hm,” Harry hums, turning around and walking back to her, leaning down to meet her.
“Kiss?”
“Always,” he smiles, kissing her lightly, her strawberry chapstick lingering on his skin.
She admires him as he treads into the water, the clarity of the water exhibiting the tattoos that marked his skin, the way his eyes reflected through the sun. Her forehead lines with sweat, her body begging to have the relief of the cool water around her. She hesitates though, the idea of showing her body so freely intimidating and making her question her apparel choice. Harry looks perfect in the infamous yellow trunks, the colour bright on his skin and simply great on him.
Her eyes couldn’t leave him.
“Come in here, Ames,” Harry calls, his eyes travelling around the area to make sure attention wasn’t called on them. He didn’t want her to be intimidated by a crowd and the rumours and headlines that were bound to come about. He lowers his voice, his words only travelling to where she could hear. “Water is so lovely.”
“Fine, fine,” Amelie concedes, standing up and beginning to walk towards the water, shaking her head and hiding her face in her hands as he whistles. He would never whistle at a woman; however, it was apparent that her confidence was weary. He would do anything to make her feel like the most confident woman. “Ames, hm.”
“Ames,” he says confidently, taking her hand and bringing her to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands holding her waist tightly. “You like it?”
“Never had a nickname before,” she mentions, pursing her lips as she traces through her memories and searching for anything that her family or friends might have called her beyond her name. “Only nicknames m’family has given me are honeybee and chéri.”
“Honeybee for the flowers, right?” Harry asks this for confirmation, the way he pays attention to every detail Amelie tells him, butterflies swirling in her belly at the thought. “And the other.”
“Chéri means honey or darling,” Amelie tells him, her accent rhythmic as the words roll off her tongue. “Mom likes using names like that.”
“Cute,” he smiles, kissing her cheek and hugging her tighter to his chest, waves lightly crashing into their backs, barely reaching his hips. “Happy you’re here, doll.”
“Me too.”
Harry presses his lips to Amelie’s, smiling as her arms hug tighter around his shoulders. He is grateful for the privacy, wanting to show her that she deserves to have someone that loves on her around anyone. He is nervous though, he would have to admit; media can be absolutely brutal, and the last thing he would want is to have someone hurt her through a lousy magazine or social media posting. He cherishes the kiss, the easiest affection. He could kiss her for hours.
“You seem to really love it here,” Amelie says, kissing his cheek, her legs quickly moving to her chest as a jellyfish moves past them. Harry gently grabs her thighs, trying to coax her into circling around him completely. “Harry.”
“Hm,” Harry sighs, his thumbs gently rubbing her skin as he awaits her answer – although he is sure he already knows.
“Don’t.” Her voice is quiet as she shakes her in disapproval, her eyes scanning beneath them for the fish, her legs slowly slinking towards the sand. “’m too heavy.”
“Says who?” he wonders, his voice slightly exasperated and confused. He is angry, frustrated with whoever would tell her such a thing, make her believe that there is something about her that would make her not fit enough for affection. “Doll, who said that? They’re wrong.”
“I –” Her voice cracks and Harry knows exactly who’s done this. He would do anything to have a talk with Jack, to really get inside the boy’s head and see how anyone could treat another human this way, especially one that deserves nothing but love.
“Hey, you don’t need to think about that with me.”
Let me love you, please.
“Harry, I’m trusting you,” Amelie breathes, taking a deep breath and releasing the tension in her muscles, allowing Harry to coax her thighs around his waist, his arms tucked under her bum and holding her to him. He kisses her cheek a smile on his lips as she begins to relax.
“Appreciate that more than you know,” Harry says, his lips delicate on her skin. “I’ve got you. Always do.”
In that very moment, Amelie chooses to believe him.
~
Amelie paces around the bedroom, her suitcase strewn across the lounger, her outfit for the evening set out neatly on the made bed. Her anxiety is echoing in her brain, her heart pounding heavily against her ribcage, her jaw tense as she stares at the multiple ignored calls with her sister. Harry is partially undressed, getting ready to shower, leaning uselessly on the mattress. He absolutely hates seeing her this way. He would love to take the stress and negative thoughts away.
He sighs, walking over to her and gently grabbing her shoulders, his hands cupping her cheeks and making her meet his stare, his lips touching her forehead to calm her. “Don’t worry, love,” Harry says softly, trying his best to calm her. “Aren’t Phoebe’s friends coming to the show, tomorrow? Maybe they’re all talking.”
“Guess so,” Amelie sighs, leaning into his chest, his arms embracing her. He taps her spine lightly, nodding to the vibrating phone set on the dresser behind them. “Maybe that’s her.”
“I’ll leave you to it.”
Quickly taking her phone, she sighs heavily, sliding her thumb across the screen and waiting to have the video connect to speak. “Hey, Phoebe.”
Hi, Phoebe, Harry whispers, nodding towards the shower and walking into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him and turning on the vent, the water sputtering on and hitting the tiles.
“Hey,” Phoebe murmurs, her lips pursed together, her cheek leaning against her fist.
“Are you alright? You’ve been avoiding my calls,” Amelie says, her voice barely above a whisper, the anxiety beginning to overwhelm her.
Phoebe found out. Phoebe found out and now she’s mad at you. You’re the worst sister. She’s going to hate you.
“You’re there, in Melbourne,” Phoebe sighs, blinking slowly and taking a deep breath, trying to gather all of her thoughts and emotions. Phoebe wasn’t mad at Amelie. How could she be? Her sister fell in love, that was obvious. Having a relationship, after everything, is what she deserved. Her lying about it, that’s what upset her. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.”
“Not sure what you’re getting at.”
“At dinner, on Sunday, you said you were seeing someone.” Her voice is flat, lacking all emotion, her eyes a bare blue, lacking their shine and glimmer that light everyone’s day. That breaks Amelie’s heart. “It’s Harry. You’re seeing Harry Styles.”
“Phoebe,” Amelie begins, quickly quieting as Phoebe opens her mouth to speak. Her intention was to listen, to not upset her any further.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Wanted to tell you, I did,” Amelie says honestly, tears prickling her eyes as she takes in the hurt on her sister’s face. “How did you find out?”
“Cassie is a barista at the café on the private beach,” Phoebe sighs, running her fingers through her hair and shaking her head. “Could see Harry a mile away with those yellow trunks. On the way out, she wanted to see if he was still there, maybe she could say hello or something. There Harry was, standing over a girl, shaking his wet hair out, laughing. Cass took a picture and sent it to me. Whoever she is, Harry looks really happy, is what she told me.”
“Cassie posted it,” Amelie chokes, her anxiety rushing with thoughts that spring tears in her eyes.
Oh my god, everyone is going to find out. Everyone is going to find out and the bullying, the harassing, everything is going to start before you and Harry could even make it to two months together.
“Of course not,” Phoebe assures her, her heart breaking as soon as Amelie begins breathing heavier. “As soon as Cassie texted me the photo, everything made more sense. Mama showed me the picture you sent her of the beach, the hotel. All of it looked the same as the pictures people posted online. Knew it then. I told her that she could not post it.”
“Oh,” Amelie breathes, the sweat on her forehead beginning to dry.
“Hurts me that you didn’t tell me, Amelie. You’re my sister, my best friend. We tell each other everything,” Phoebe sighs,
“Phoebe, I.” Amelie has nothing to say.
“Are you happy?”
Amelie goes absolutely silent, pursing her lips together and lightly nodding her head. Harry steps into the room, a shy smile on his lips as he nods, telling her everything without a word.
“Are you happy? Are you and Harry happy?” Phoebe repeats, desperate to emphasise her meaning. Her sister deserves to be happy, whether she believes so or not. Phoebe could never be upset with her for that.
“I am,” Amelie smiles, genuinely smiling, taking a deep breath. Her honesty surprises her, the way the words are so easy to say shocking her. Happiness, like this, hasn’t been something she believed she could have. “For the first time, I am.”
“Then, I’ll be okay. You and I, we’re okay. I’m not upset.” Phoebe sucks in a breath, budding her courage in her chest. Phoebe never expected this to happen. “Put Harry on the phone.”
“Huh?”
“Tu m'avez entendu, Amelie.”
Harry’s eyes widen at the statement. He gulps, taking a deep breath and walking towards Amelie, nodding approvingly and settling on the bed beside her.
“Um, Phoebe wants to talk to you,” Amelie mutters, giving him the phone and nodding towards the bathroom. “’m gon’a go take a shower.” Grabbing her towel and nervously treading into the en-suite, she shuts the door slightly, barely enough space to hear.
Harry clears his throat, taking a deep breath before beginning. He can see that Phoebe is shaking. “Know that you’re mad at us, and I’m sorry.”
“Not mad,” Phoebe says nervously, her thoughts jumbled and trying to comprehend who is speaking to her on the screen. Never would she have thought that this would be the way she would him. “Just a little upset.”
“Understand if you are mad, because Amelie and I made the decision not to tell anyone, and that included you,” he sighs, scratching his neck nervously. “’m sorry you had to find out by someone else, but you should know that you not speaking to her is making her really upset.”
“Has Amelie gone in the shower yet?”
“Mhm,” Harry nods, unsure where the conversation is heading, accepting it, nonetheless.
“Do you know about Jack?” Phoebe murmurs, her voice growing quieter to ensure that Amelie wouldn’t hear. Upsetting her about him is not what she wants to be doing.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry mutters, desperately trying to not become angry. Hearing his name makes Harry furious.
“Amelie thinks I don’t know, and I don’t remember what happened, but I do, and I don’t ever want to see her that upset, that bad, again, okay?”
“Of course.” Harry smiles softly, admiring the way she so openly cares about her sister.
“Know you’re you and all, but that’s my sister. You can’t hurt her, okay?” Her voice is laced desperately, the concern evident in her eyes. Harry would never dream of hurting her, and he has to make sure she knows.
“Phoebe, I promise you, I won’t.”
Amelie’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as Harry says that, her towel tucked around her hair and her body clothed in simply her panties and lace bra that he loves. Harry pats the bed, encouraging her to come closer to him.
“Not a bribe, but ‘m gon’a need you to tell me the shows you have tickets to,” Harry says, smiling as Amelie settles in the open space that he’s made for her.
“Um, San Diego and Santa Clara,” she stutters, her fingers shaking over her mouth as he hands her sister his phone and she typed in the dates for him.
“Alright. Talk soon,” Harry smirks, squeezing his girlfriend’s thigh and setting her phone in her hand, kissing her cheek, his body moving away from the mattress and taking his phone into the bathroom to busy himself until the call is over.
“Phoebe,” Amelie teases, mouthing a quiet, thank you, as Harry tosses headphones to her to talk, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Don’t be mad.”
“Ugh,” Phoebe sighs, knuckling her eyes and taking a heavy breath. “I’m not mad. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Amelie, you deserve to be happy, even though you think you don’t.”
“Love you, Phoebe.”
“Love you, too,” Phoebe says quietly, turning her light off and settling under her comforter, her eyes beginning to close. “Don’t fuck this up for me, Amelie. Don’t fuck this up for you, either.”
“I’ll try not to, Pheebs, I’ll try.”
~
Harry reserved the most secluded section on the beach. Quiet waves crashing against the sand, twinkling lights around the posts, blankets and stray towels accompanying their picnic to lay on the cushion of the cabana, the sand slightly damp beneath their feet. Amelie can make out the chatter of the crowds in the distance, the sidewalk much too far for them to be seen.
“Like this,” Amelie smiles shyly, taking a bite of her sandwich and taking a swig from the wine settled between herself and Harry. “Quiet and very us. Nothing flashy and extravagant. That’s something I always wanted, y’know – to be happy, simply me and the other person.”
Harry presses a chaste kiss to her lips, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin, nosing her jaw with a kiss and squeezing her hand.
“Harry.”
“Hm.”
“Do you think that the stars align a certain way to make things happen? Don’t know, like, the universe wants something good to happen to someone, so the stars and the planets and moon move a certain way to make it happen,” she wonders, laying her sandwich down and leaning back on her hands, her head turned over her shoulder to look at her boyfriend, his body resting peacefully on the blanket, his head tucked on a folded towel.
“Jovian-Plutonian Effect,” Harry smirks, his eyes shining beneath the moonlight. “Think you’re mine if that counts for anything.”
“One thing I was thinking about the other day –” she begins, her eyes narrowing as his voice cracks to interrupt.
“You think about a lot of things.”
Amelie lightly smacks Harry’s arm, his laughter airy and making her heart swell against her ribcage. Her love for him is growing every day, and there is one moment every so often that makes her want to mutter the words that she swore she would never say to a man, ever again, the words that would break her heart eventually.
But you do love him, Amelie’s heart incessantly reminds her. That is something that happened. You fell in love.
“You and I,” she whispers, trailing her attention from the crashing waves to the moon lingering above them, the light casting above their illuminating skin, “whenever we’re apart, we’re staring at the same moon. It sounds stupid, I know, but there’s something comforting about that. You,” she hesitates, frightened by the words falling so easily from her lips, “you’re one of my closest friends. Don’t know, it’s just nice never feeling that far away.”
“Nothing you say is stupid. Don’t say that,” Harry sterns, gently poking her thigh to have her attention. “Only a phone call away if you need me, love,” he murmurs, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “Always looking at the same moon.”
“Know that I’ve only known you a month, but I’m proud of you. Not many people would have the courage to go on stage the way you do, travel so many weeks and months away, work the way you do. I admire you, Harry. There are so many people that you inspire, every day. I’m one of them.”
“Gon’a be honest, it’s hard sometimes, and it’s one of the only things that are truly hard. Missing m’family, you. Hope that you’ll come and join tour eventually, see what it’s like. ‘s my dream. ‘s like when your work is in an exhibit, y’know, the one place where everything makes sense. All the adrenaline and the screaming and everyone singing back to you. Nothing like it,” Harry rambles, moving the covered wine aside and kissing your knee sweetly. “Happy to make you proud, doll. You inspire me.”
“Hate being this, soft,” Amelie giggles, squeezing his hand and gently nudging their hands into his thigh. “Not very like us. Usually, you’re bothering me.”
“Don’t like sharing your emotions, I get that,” he sighs, turning over and laying his head on her thigh, smiling softly as she cards her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “Know that going through all that you did made you feel this way, and I’m sorry that it happened, but I want you to know that you can share things with me.”
Her eyes sting with tears, her lips pouting as Harry wipes a stray from her cheek. “Hate that Phoebe was mad at me. Honestly, it makes my stomach hurt. Didn’t want to hurt her by hiding this, us, you know? I just didn’t know how to tell her. Hard to really understand this all sometimes,” Amelie pauses, trying to find the proper wording to express herself.
Expressing yourself is hard enough on a good day.
“C’mere, baby,” Harry sighs, situating on the blanket and opening his arms, smiling as her body settles on his thighs, her arms tucked around his shoulders, his lips touching light kisses on her shoulder. He barely makes out her mumbled apology, his head moving away from her shoulder to stare. “Amelie, why are you apologising to me? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Crying into you because of my anxiety on a Valentine’s Day date,” Amelie laughs wetly, tears staining her cheeks, her eyes glossy as she stares into his, his thumbs drying her skin. “Hate me.”
Harry’s heart twists in his chest. He absolutely hates that Amelie feels this way. He isn’t quite sure what anxiety entails, the details and intricacies, but knowing that all of her thoughts and emotions are so deeply impacted by it hurts him. He would do anything to take it all away. “Don’t say that.” He nearly wants to mutter the three words they’ve been waiting to say. He hesitates, taking a moment to gather his thoughts back. “All I want is fo’ you to feel okay. You have me, I’m here.”
“Harry Styles.”
Her voice is airy, her hands clasped together around his neck, fingertips twirling the curls at the nape, her thumb tracing the cut of his jaw softly. Her mouth sponges kisses on his cheek, her breath hitching in her throat as his mouth steals her lips, his kiss gentle and lingering on her skin.
Harry knows that Amelie won’t verbally say more, yet the way her arms are tight around his shoulders, her mouth is rhythmic with his, their kiss taking their breath away, his hands squeezing around her torso to have her melt impossibly closer to him, tells him everything. Harry knows that Amelie trusts him, that eventually everything would be said.
All that was needed was time. Harry didn’t mind waiting.
His fingertips work at the buttons on her the dress – floral printed, naturally, his mouth kissing her shoulder as he nudges the jacket away from her torso. His mouth grew dry at the way her breasts accentuated the cut; the straps are sewn with thicker material for support beginning to slip off her shoulders. Her giggles echo in his ear, making his stomach swirl with butterflies and his heart beat so loudly he swears she could hear it.
“Quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had, Mr Styles,” Amelie smirks, manoeuvring her body beneath his and tugging the dress away, Harry’s shirt tossed somewhere near the basket, a sheet pulled over their bodies to hide them away, the cabana’s curtains tugged closed, the moonlight peeking through the slight cracks. “Don’t get us caught.”
“Don’t be loud,” Harry chuckles, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, her eyes rolling at his comment. “May or may not have a crush on you.”
“Considering you say that quite a bit, I think you do.” Her mouth moulds against his perfectly, a giggle leaving her lips as he fumbles to work his jeans down his thighs. “That’s what you get for wearing jeans.”
“Quit teasing me.”
“Make it so easy for me, though.”
“Quite lucky the way you flirt with me is endearing, Ames,” Harry teases, laying his jeans along with their clothes and straddling her waist, one knee tucked between her thighs, his forearms around her splayed hair.
“Call this flirting? Oh, this is nothing.”
Harry laughs, shaking his head and laying his lips on hers, soaking in the way she tastes faintly of wine and the swollenness of her flesh, her fingers lacing through his, squeezing his hand for comfort. He adores this, the way he can feel her calming. Harry savours the moment, the way their skin is clammy against each other and her thighs are wrapped around his waist, the way his heart is heavy in his chest because everything feels right.
Harry and Amelie couldn’t have pointed out the planets or the stars or the constellations underneath their makeshift blanket, their attention too obsessive with each other and the way they feel.
Although, Harry could have sworn that this is what it felt like to have Jupiter and Pluto align.
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itsyourchoice-hp · 3 years
Text
Year 2: Staff Meeting
Cath realized on Saturday afternoon that she hadn’t seen her brother since his incident in Care of Magical Creatures class. It was strange not to see him with Harry, Ron and Hermione during lunch or study breaks. He was no doubt still sulking nursing his “injury.” Draco certainly had a talent for being dramatic.
She began packing up her schoolbag in the Common Room, deciding to go see if he was in the Great Hall doing homework. Ginny looked up from her copy of the Daily Prophet and frowned.
“Where are you off to?” she asked.
“I’m going to see if I can find Draco,” Cath replied. “We had a bit of a row when he was in the Hospital Wing and I haven’t talked to him since.”
“You two are so strange,” Ginny remarked. “We fight all the time in my family, and we are usually back to normal after about five minutes. Except Ron of course.”
“We all know he’s got a terrible temper,” George teased.
Ron reached over from the chair beside him and gave George a whack on the head with a rolled up bit of parchment.
“Case in point,” Harry grinned.
They laughed as Ron rolled his eyes. Cath stood up and departed from the group. Before she could push the portrait open to leave the Common Room, Hermione appeared at her side, grabbing her arm to stop her.
“Cath, would you er-let me know how he’s doing?” she asked in a low voice, trying to sound nonchalant.
Cath wasn’t quite sure why Hermione was acting so strange about it.
“Sure I can,” she replied. “Is everything alright?”
Hermione glanced to where Ron, Harry, Ginny, Fred and George were seated. “Draco and I sort of had a row as well. I don’t think he understands that Hagrid has the best intentions. And he sort of accused me of taking Harry’s side in it.”
“He said the same thing to me too,” Cath assured her. “He’ll come around like he always does. I’ll come find you when I’m back.
Hermione thanked her before returning to their friends and Cath left the Common Room, hoping she wouldn’t have to make conversation with Sir Cadogan on her way out. When the portrait swung open from the inside, Cath saw Neville waiting to get in, a look of frustration and dismay on his face.
“Thank Merlin,” he said when he saw Cath. “I’ve been trying to get in for nearly an hour!”
“Did you forget the password?” Cath asked him.
“No,” Neville replied. “He’s changed it again!"
“It is my duty to protect Gryffindor House at all costs! I would sooner die before I let some mangy murderer into this castle…” Sir Cadogan said, brandishing his sword and flailing it around threateningly.
Neville showed Cath the piece of parchment he had in his hand. “I’ve written down all the passwords. This is just from this past week!”
“Give him a break,” Cath said to Sir Cadogan. “Can’t you see he’s a Gryffindor? He’s got his house colours on!”
“You aren’t brave enough to face me!” he said. “Come duel me, if you really want to get inside.”
“The password is Codswallops, last time I went in,” Cath said to Neville. She looked back to Sir Cadogan, who was trying to kick his fat pony into a canter.
“Codswallops!” Neville exclaimed.
Sir Cadogan reluctantly sheathed his sword and swung open. Neville sighed in relief. “Thanks Cath,” he said. “I owe you one! I can’t forget to write that one down.”
“No problem,” she replied. She continued down the hallway and down a few flights of stairs until she reached the Great Hall. The portraits on the walls were still talking about the events last night. A few of them stopped her to ask if she had heard anything.
“I heard he has red eyes!” said a portrait of a woman hanging sheets on a clothesline to the portrait next to her, of a wizard brewing a black bubbling potion.
Cath couldn’t help but look over her shoulder every once in a while. She wanted to believe that Hogwarts was safe, but it was hard not to feel afraid when so many rumours were still circulating about Sirius Black.
Sure enough, Draco was sitting in the Great Hall at the table where Slytherins usually sat during meals, with a group of his friends around him. Cath recognized Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle right away, as Cath and Draco’s parents were longtime friends with Vincent and Gregory’s. There was also a girl sitting with them who had short black hair, pale skin and a rather snout-like nose.
Draco looked up when he saw Cath approach her.
Crabbe and Goyle, who were about as thick as they come, greeted her with an awkward wave. The girl with them looked at her as though she were a huge inconvenience.
“Cath,” Draco said. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, actually,” she replied. She felt increasingly uncomfortable by the girl’s stare.
Draco shut his textbook and stood up. “I’ll be back,” he said to his friends.
“Don’t be gone too long,” the black haired girl said.
“Who’s she?” Cath asked once they were out of earshot.
“Pansy Parkinson,” Draco replied. “She’s in my year.”
“Sounds like she fancies you,” Cath remarked.
“What is it that you want?” Draco asked, not indulging her in small talk.
“I haven’t seen you since the hospital wing,” Cath replied. “How is your arm? It looks like you’re doing a lot better.”
Draco held his injured arm close to his side, suddenly wincing in pain. “It’s better than it was… but it still hurts a lot.”
Cath wanted so badly to taunt him, but she knew his fragile ego wouldn’t be able to handle it. “Sounds terrible,” she replied.
“Mother and Father are furious,” Draco said. “They’re meeting with Dumbledore about it tomorrow. There’s no way that stupid giant should be teaching here. They agree. I mean, bringing dangerous animals into class and then letting them attack students? It’s completely irresponsible, don’t you think?”
Cath worried for Hagrid. She knew it wasn’t his fault or his intention that a student get hurt during class. “Well, I’m sure Hagrid feels terrible that you got hurt.”
“He should,” Draco replied. “Anyways, I’m sure you’ve heard all about what happened yesterday?”
Cath nodded. “Ron said he saw the Fat Lady right after it happened. She was absolutely terrified.”
“This isn’t going to look good for Dumbledore,” Draco shook his head. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can to keep Hogwarts’ image as clean as possible.”
“Hogwarts is safe, everyone knows that,” Cath said.
“But think about what’s happened here the past two years. Last year, with the Chamber of Secrets opening. And in our first year with Professor Quirrell,” Draco pointed out. “That’s a lot of bad press.”
“Do you think Hogwarts would get shut down?” Cath asked.
Draco shrugged. “Dunno. But I’m sure the Ministry will be putting a lot of pressure on Dumbledore to keep things safe around here.”
They were silent for a minute as they stood in the empty corridor.
“You should come watch the Quidditch practice today,” Cath said. “I’m going with Ron and Hermione.”
Draco thought for a minute before shrugging. “Maybe. I have a lot of schoolwork.”
Someone walking past them caught Cath’s attention. She looked to her right and to her surprise saw Professor Lupin, who was carrying a stack of books in his arm. He looked extremely tired and worn. A scarf was wrapped around his neck and he wore a grey knit sweater with brown trousers and well worn dress shoes.
Good afternoon, Malfoys,” he said, dipping his head courteously.
“Professor!” Cath said. “I’m so glad you’re back. Are you feeling much better?"
Professor Lupin smiled, exaggerating the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “I’m feeling better every day, thank you Ms. Malfoy. If you’ll excuse me.”
He kept walking down the corridor in the direction of the staff office.
“Looks like he’s seen better days,” Draco remarked.
“I’m glad he’s back,” Cath said. “It was dreadful having Snape teach Defence.”
“Tell me about it,” Draco agreed. “Anyways, I’ve got to get back. See you later, Cath.”
“This afternoon?” Cath asked him expectantly, raising her eyebrows. She knew that once he spent time with his Gryffindor friends again, he would go right back to normal.
He paused for a moment before replying. “I’ll try to come.”
***
Minerva tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Albus to stop indulging Professor Sprout in her gushing over the perennials she had planted this year. Nearly all of the professors had gathered in the large meeting room on the tenth floor.
It was a room that was rarely used, except for the very few times that Hogwarts was in some sort of danger. Well, now that Harry Potter attended the school it seemed that something terrible had happened every year. Not that Minerva blamed the boy at all. None of this was his fault.
Poor boy. Only thirteen years old and he had faced death and danger so many times.
Remus Lupin took a seat near Minerva, a ceramic mug of tea in his hands. It was always strange when a former student of Minerva’s went on to teach at Hogwarts. Remus and his friends had been her students when she had started her first year of teaching. After teaching James Potter and Sirius Black, there was no rowdy classroom that Minerva couldn’t have handled.
He had always been so different than those two, Remus. Of course he went along with James and Sirius’ antics, to an extent, but he was quiet, shy, very bright and studious. A real gentle soul. Working with a group of witches and wizards during the Wizard War had certainly hardened him, especially the heartbreak of losing James, Lily, Sirius and Peter.
“Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall,” Remus greeted her politely.
Minerva looked over to him and smiled, shaking her head. “You should know by now that you can call me Minerva.”
“I still haven’t gotten used to it, I suppose,” Remus said, smiling sheepishly.
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the rest of the teachers that were dwindling and wandering in quickly made their way to a seat.
Finally, Minerva thought.
A piece of parchment and a quill were enchanted to float near Albus’s head and take minutes during their meetings.
“Thank you all for attending this staff meeting,” he said, smiling around at everyone. Minerva had never seen a smile from Dumbledore that wasn’t genuine. She truly didn’t know how he did it.
“First of all, I would like to thank you all for your support during the events of last night. I realize that you had to spring into action during a potentially dangerous time, and your efforts have not gone unnoticed.
Second, I want to give a brief update of what has transpired since last night. The Fat Lady, who guards the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, was attacked by someone in the castle. She claims it to be Sirius Black. That night, myself and various others conducted a thorough search of the castle, as well as the grounds. We had Dementors circle the entirety of Hogwarts, but were unable to locate Sirius Black. It is my sincere belief that he is not in Hogwarts.”
There was tangible relief from everyone in the room. Minerva could see the look of absolute hatred on Severus’s face. He probably wanted nothing more than for Black, his childhood bully, to be found.
“We will continue to keep close watch,” Dumbledore continued. “I have received many letters of concern from parents, citizens, and the board of governors. But Hogwarts is not in danger. There is no cause for worry or fear. I am in contact with the Minister of Magic, who sent a team of experienced Aurors to help conduct the search last night.”
“Is it true that he’s after the Potter boy?” asked Charity Burbitch, the professor of Muggle Studies.
Minerva swallowed uncomfortably, allowing herself to steal a glance at Remus. He looked sad, his eyes slightly vacant.
“Sirius Black has indeed escaped Azkaban,” Dumbledore replied. “And I know I can say for myself, that even one night in Azkaban prison would be enough to drive me to escape. He is likely trying to live in hiding.”
Another unfortunate event happened this week. During a Care of Magical Creatures class, a student was injured by a Hippogriff. He has made a full recovery, according to Madam Pomfrey and will not suffer any permanent damage. The animals were being handled carefully and responsibly, as is to be assumed of Rubeus Hagrid. However, the board of governors has raised some concerns to me that I will handle privately.”
“So Lucius Malfoy got the minister involved,” Minerva couldn’t help herself. She did not have fond feelings for the Malfoy family, even despite all they had done to help the Potters.
“How are we going to deal with all this negative press?” Filius Flitwick asked. “First a student is attacked, and then Sirius Black is allegedly spotted in the castle.”
Dumbledore smiled. “Hogwarts is safe and always has been. Its walls and enchantments have stood the test of time. There isn’t a witch or wizard who doesn’t know that to be true.”
“The Daily Prophet can spin nearly anything,” Rolanda Hooch muttered, garnering a few chuckles from teachers.
“Going forward, students are to be in their dormitories by nine o’clock in the evening. Additionally, Dementors will be present at Quidditch practices and matches from now on. We need to ensure that we are taking all the precautionary safety measures necessary. Are there any questions?” Albus asked. the scratches of the quill scribbling on the parchment ceased as he paused. Albus looked around at the room full of teachers. “Well, I suppose that concludes things for the day.”
A few teachers left right away to get to their next classes, while others continued to talk and conspire about Sirius Black.
Remus remained in his seat, still staring at nothing with that sad forlorn look on his face. Minerva hesitated before standing up to leave.
“Remus, are you quite alright?” she asked gently.
He looked up at her as if he had only just realized where he was. He quickly put a smile on his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes. Just lost in my thoughts, I suppose.”
Minerva nodded and briefly placed a hand on his shoulder before putting her cloak on and heading towards the door.
“Minerva,” Albus stopped her before she left. “The Minister has asked if I fancy meeting him for a drink at the Three Broomsticks next Saturday. Would you like to join us?”
She hoped it would be a pleasure rather than business meeting, although if the Minister for Magic was going to be there it was unlikely to be just for pleasure. “Of course,” Minerva replied.
“I do hope Madam Rosmerta has her hot apple cider ready…” Albus said with a twinkle in his eye.
Sometimes Albus’s optimism could be infuriating. The world could be falling apart around him and he would still be smiling and talking about eatings sweets. But at other times, it felt like it was the only thing keeping Hogwarts together. Minerva relied on Albus’s whimsy, his constant joy and curiosity. As if somehow it gave her permission to be the same when times were tough.
***
“Won’t you be cold?” Ginny said to Cath as they were getting dressed to watch the Quidditch practice.
Cath was wearing a warm knit jumper and a beanie, and was searching for her gloves. “I’ll be fine, Ginny.”
Ginny was putting on a thick winter jacket that looked second hand, and scarf probably knitted by her mom. “Don’t you have a coat?”
“I do, but… it’s ridiculous,” Cath said awkwardly. “My parents got it for me, but it just looks ridiculously posh.”
Ginny was quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to hide your wealth around me, you know. My family isn’t that poor.”
Cath looked up at her, feeling embarrassed. “It’s not that, it’s just… I—”
Ginny didn’t say anything. She just looked at Cath, as if expecting her to finish. It wasn’t difficult to see that the Weasley’s weren’t particularly well off. Cath had never thought any less of them for it, but Ginny was right. Cath felt uncomfortable talking about certain things around her, like vacations her family went on, presents she got for Christmas.
“I’m sorry, Gin,” Cath said.
“You’re going to be cold,” was all she said in reply.
Ginny had a point. It looked as though it were about to snow any day now. The air outside was so cold it made your cheeks sting. Winter was just around the corner.
Cath pulled her jacket out of the bottom of her dresser. It was a long black wool coat with dark green buttons. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it all the way up as she followed Ginny out of the dormitory and down the stairs.
Ron and Hermione were already down there, and it appeared as though the two of them were arguing about something. Hermione was clutching her cat, a huge orange fluffy thing with a rather squished looking face.
“I’m telling you, Hermione, that cat has it out for Scabbers!” Ron said crossly at her, holding his pet rat.
“All cats want to chase mice and rats, Ron,” Hermione replied exasperatedly. “He would never hurt him, right Crookshanks?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ron scowled. “I’m putting Scabbers back upstairs before that evil monster can take another chunk of fur out of him.”
“Everything alright?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione sighed and put down Crookshanks, who jumped up onto an armchair and began purring innocently. “Ron thinks Crookshanks is trying to hunt his rat.”
Ginny shrugged. “Scabbers’ time is probably up anyways. It’s just the circle of life.”
"How long has Ron had him?” Cath asked.
"He used to be Percy’s rat, but we’ve had him for… I don’t know, twelve years?” Ginny replied.
“Twelve years?” Cath said incredulously. “Did he find the elixir of life or something?”
“He’s just lucky,” Hermione said.
“We take excellent care of him,” Ron said from the top of the stairs, still refusing to look at Hermione. “He’s lived so long because he’s had such a comfortable life.”
“Don’t get too attached,” Ginny laughed.
The four of them left the Common Room, headed for the Quidditch Pitch.
“I was hoping it would snow,” Cath said disappointedly. “Those clouds don’t look very nice.”
The sky outside was full of thick, grey rainclouds. Cath was suddenly grateful for her warm wool coat. The four walked briskly to the Quidditch pitch, where a few students sat in the stand to watch the practice.
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