#wotcher talk

[wotchernewt]

there's something kinda funny to me about certain ways scar tends to be drawn because it's like. okay imagine hypothetically you took a distillation of fanon scar designs and showed it to someone who's never even heard of a minecraft, and asked them what they think this guy might be like. we're ignoring context here, pretend we're showing them a ref sheet. and it's like, alright, here's a rugged looking buff guy. nice abs. lots of scars. he's got a smug grin on his face. very shirtless. he looks like the love interest in a bodice ripper. i bet he's got some dark angsty secret he keeps buried underneath that suave facade. but not buried too deeply, just enough to intrigue.

and then you go watch third life and he is like a cat whose owner keeps desperately trying to make him stop eating plastic.

#wotcher talk #mcyt #life series #trafficblr #goodtimeswithscar #this is of course neutralized by the fact that people draw this buff scarred romance novel LI like a cat trying to eat plastic #as they should

[ma1dita]

no hard feelings

this was a request! find it here

words: 5k (CHRIST)

summary: How can you be in love with someone you barely know? Feelings are hard. James potter x fem!reader

warnings: none! Angsty, tumultuous feelings, insecure!reader, teenage awkwardness, consensual veritaserum dosing, tiptoeing around feelings, headboy!james

a/n: why is james always so easy to write for… hope yall like this one!! I miss having a crush lol

(posted 12/14/23)

—-

“You’re staring again…” Dorcas drones next to you one day in Potions class. Your ears are barely listening to Professor Slughorn drone on about the magical properties and proper use of Veritaserum but your eyes are most definitely focused on James Potter, as they always are. It’s kind of hard to not notice him when his energy breaks through every room he walks into.

“Can’t help it. He’s doing that thing again…” You mutter, leaning against your arm as Dorcas flips through the pages of the textbook. Air escapes you in a puff of exasperation and your quill thumps against the desk in a tiny rhythm. The truth serum you both have been brewing for the past month was steadily bubbling in your shared cauldron, colorless and almost complete, if it weren’t for your usual distraction in the form of Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor.

“Him being a nuisance?” She smiles at you crookedly, looking at the soft gaze in your eyes.

“Him existing. How dreadful for me.” You say simply before turning back to the task at hand.

There’s something about James Potter that captivates the female gaze. All of Hogwarts knew, hell, he did too. Whatever it was, it’s starting to get annoying. Your eyes flicker back to him, hair swishing as your head shakes in contemplation. Dorcas grins at your predicament, this not being a new topic between the both of you.

James glances at you from his desk at the back of the room, fingers brushing the metal frame of his glasses as he catches you looking at him again, and he smiles boyishly when he sees your eyes dart elsewhere. Compared to other girls’ ostentatious efforts to grab his attention, you’d always been more reserved and standing a distance away. And despite your mutual friends, you both had never really had a proper conversation. Not alone at least. So yes, you may have an insanely big crush on the most popular guy at Hogwarts, but it didn’t mean he’d have to hear it from you. That would involve…having to actually find time to talk to him, which proved to be difficult with every girl that spent their free time batting their eyelashes at him, sending him declarations of feelings in the post, or falling over in front of him to ask him on dates. Slightly pathetic, but you admired their bravery. Silence was your own death sentence, and perhaps it was more suave in your mind. The cool girl who was anything but. Godric, why are feelings so annoying…

Your heart rate stays elevated through the rest of class, and as you pack your things, you rush to put your stuff in your knapsack, digging through the leather to find a hair ribbon. The distraction impairs your vision and your foot slips on a leather strap. Your body runs right into a solid wall of muscle, sending you into James’s seated frame, and both of you sprawling across the classroom floor.

“Wotcher, love,” Sirius laughs as he sees the blush rise to your cheeks. James daintily grasps your waist as you’ve landed bent over onto his lap, feet tangled in the fallen chair.

“I am so sorry…” You blubber, hair in your face as you scramble to lift off of him. Both you and James kneel on the floor picking both your belongings up, and you feel like the Earth could swallow you whole right now with everyone staring at you.

“Looking completely stupid is what. Pete, you have to stop putting your bag in the aisle! I could’ve killed Potter!”

Peter blushes as he nudges his bag with his foot, and James hands you back your things, both of your hands touching as you figure out who belongs to what. Your hand fumbles over a clear vial of Veritaserum he definitely wasn't supposed to take home, and your eyes meet James’ with a tilt of the head. His grin screams mischief, biting his lip, and taking the glass from between your fingers with a wink. I won’t tell if you won’t, his gaze says.

“Not a problem, darling. Anyone would be honored to be trampled by a pretty lady,” he says finally, dusting off his pants and offering you a hand to stand up. You scoff, taking it and not meeting his eyes in embarrassment. Remus lifts the chair that toppled over, handing you the hair ribbon you spent so long finding.

“Thanks, Rem. See you all later at the party?” Bobbing heads follow you out of the classroom where you are quickly bombarded by a gaggle of girls calling you lucky for bumping into James.

“You’re so smart for falling on him like that…” “He seems so strong picking you up so easily…” “Did he smell nice today? He always smells nice…”

All of the chattering voices make you laugh at these mere acquaintances who don’t care as much for you as they do for the boy standing in the doorway with his friends.

“Off to class now, ladies.�� James reminds them, his Head Boy badge gleaming against the sunlight in the corridor. They scatter, leaving hushed compliments and giggles in his direction. But you don’t look at him at all, tying your hair back almost methodically. His eyes fall upon the slope of your neck, and he’s got that look in his eye…

“What, James?” Remus asks inquisitively, all four boys looking at you as you walk off down the hall.

“How come she barely talks to me?” he ponders, shoving his jumper over his elbows, and Sirius slings an arm over his best friend as he laughs.

“All the attention you get, and you’re still greedy, huh?”

“Not that, she talks to all of you so easily, and then she goes and calls me Potter like we aren’t friends…” he says, swiveling to look at his boys, walking backward to see their reactions. Well, he didn’t expect them to laugh that hard.

“Are you though? She’s our friend, we hang out with her… Have you ever had a real conversation between the two of you?” Pete points out, scratching the back of his neck.

“Suppose not…”

“Suppose you should… She’s really nice. Pretty funny too.” Remus pipes up.

James thinks back, and regrettably, he can’t remember much about you, always a wallflower in his periphery. He hasn’t made much of an effort to get to know you since you started being around the gang. Maybe that should change.

“She’s stunning, if I’m honest, boys. Way less forward than the other birds…”

“I can see an idea forming in your head James Potter, don’t even start…” Remus says, book in hand ready to hit him across the chest. Sirius and Peter laugh, starting to run around the two, and everything stops once the sandy-haired boy blurts, “Word out is that she majorly fancies you, Prongs…Maybe you should go for it!”

James stops in his tracks, bumping into a marble column as they round the corner. How can you like him if you don’t know him…and he doesn’t know anything about you?

“Highly unlikely, Worms. She doesn’t even call me by my first name…” The new predicament of this admission rises to the forefront of James' mind, and it’s all he can think about for the rest of the day, through the rest of class, and Quidditch practice, up until he gets ready for the party at Gryffindor Tower.

—

You’re getting ready with the girls, hands brushing over microscopic lint on your silk top, and you’re quite unsure of why there’s a nerve-wracking feeling overtaking your body.

“You look lovely, babe,” Alice says as she admires you from Marlene’s bed, legs hanging off the side.

“I need a drink,” you laugh, looking at the girls through the mirror, and Mary tosses you a shooter of firewhiskey to ease the nerves. The door swings open and Lily walks in, looking almost sternly at the lot of you.

“How are you all still up here? Everyone looks beautiful, now let’s all get drunk! Godric knows we need it after this week we’ve had…”

The girls walk down the stairs to the common room, you following slowly as your eyes meet the crowd of students all partaking in the grand celebration of nothing. Merlin, you love this school. Cracking the bottle open, you toss your head back as you take the shot, and then Sirius is swinging you around onto the dancefloor as you try not to gag. The party is in full swing—students dancing on the tables, drinks flowing, and music playing as loud as possible that you wonder how McGonagall won’t shut this down by midnight.

James tries to find a moment to talk to you all night, but he can’t seem to get an edge in. Were you always this popular? You were always dancing with someone else, or talking to a friend, and it’s also distracting to have girls trying to chat with him about who-knows-what, and he almost gets frustrated at the fact he’s unable to catch your eye.

“James, do you think I look pretty in this dress?” a hand grazes his bicep, and he remembers he’s in the middle of a conversation with… Flora? Frannie?

“Mhmm,” he mutters noncommittally, eyes searching the crowd for where he last saw you, watching you walk out towards the balcony.

“Sorry Fizz, gotta go find someone!” He skirts around the girl who yells, “It’s Faith!” almost indignantly, and James shakes his head as he weaves through the sea of drunk people to reach you before you get away again.

You stand on the balcony, alone. The party hums on behind you, through the open doors, but all of it feels miles away. You take a deep, steadying breath into your chest as you stare out into the field. The quiet serenity of the night and the alcohol is giving you a head rush, making you dizzy and lightheaded, but you feel your pulse beating like a drum as your hands are steady on the railing.

Sudden footsteps break the silence, and you turn to find that James is standing right behind you. He places his hands near yours as he steps closer, staring out into the night as well.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks as he slides up beside you.

"Just needed some air," you reply, looking towards the dancing masses spilling out onto the stairs and tables behind the glass.

"What’s a Gryffindor gathering without its resident life of the party?" he teases, leaning on the railing and smiling cheekily at you.

“Says you…” Your eyebrow quirks at his boldness. You don’t think you two have ever even been at a table alone, much less out here on the balcony by yourselves.

James is leaning close to you, still gazing up at the night sky. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, and you suddenly have a strange urge to turn to him, to look him in the eye and tell him how badly you wish to have a proper conversation with him. For him to know you like you know him.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, a sly grin on his face. James raises an eyebrow, almost as if he's reading your mind.

"Can you keep a secret?" His voice is like cinnamon, sweet with an edge.

“If it’s about the Veritaserum, I didn’t see anything….” you joke, throwing your head back.

His eyes flash with amusement as he smiles at you, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

"Maybe you should look up at me for a minute." You turn to look at him, and your heart flutters at his words.

"I want to ask you something," he whispers, his face close to yours. You're not sure why he's whispering - there’s no one else out here, but you don't mind.

"What?" you ask. James grins at you, and you can't help but grin back. He pauses, biting his lip to hold in his laugh, and then he leans in closer, his face so close you can count his lashes, curly hair falling softly against your temple.

"Are we friends?" he asks, and the hilarity of it makes you scoff, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s not unkind.

"Maybe, but not really. You've always been out of reach for me, Potter."

"Do you wish we were?" He seems genuine in this moment, hazel eyes staring into yours as if he's trying to see into your soul. He's always been popular, and he knows girls fawn over him, but he's never spoken to you this way before. Perhaps his bravery only goes so far when he’s with you.

"I would love for us to be friends," you say quietly, unsure of his intentions. "I'm so awkward around you, I just... have a hard time saying what I want to say. It always feels like I'm going to say something stupid." You blush as you admit this, but you force yourself to meet his eyes.

James gives you a light, charming laugh, and you're left speechless as your words fade away. His eyes are so intense, and the way his jaw sits firm just makes you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. You stay still for a moment, your heart racing, waiting for him to say something, do something you know you don’t have the guts for.

"What if we tried..." he pauses as if he's thinking it through himself.

"Just being completely honest with each other? For the rest of the night?" he asks, his fingers pulling a familiar stolen vial out of his pocket.

"For the rest of the night?" you ask, your voice slightly shaky. "I... I don't know if I can..."

He tips a few drops of Veritaserum into both of your drinks.

"Bottoms up." He downs his cup in one go.

Your eyes meet his in shock, your lips slightly parted as you take in the realization that you'll finally get the truth out of him. But in the adrenaline that courses through your veins, you don't stop to think that this will affect you too. He can see how nervous you are, and he winks at you, and his voice drops to a whisper.

"Trust me," he urges, and it's impossible to deny his request with a smile like that.

“You’re crazy,” you mumble, but you take a heavy sip of the Veritaserium-laced drink anyway, and every single word that's on your mind attempts to escape, the air around the two of you feeling charged with blind confidence.

"We're playing a dangerous game here, Potter. Too bad I've had enough to drink to care."

You laugh at that, and he chuckles along with you. The alcohol seems to make the Veritaserum work even faster, and it's not as if it tastes bad. In fact, it's rather delicious. Addicting.

"You're right," he replies, laughing so much that he has to hold his sides. The mirthful grin that curls into your lips is only increased as you take in the scene before you. "So. What do you want to know?" he asks. He puts his hand on your waist, fingers grazing your belt loop and you feel your blood rush to your face.

“Do you still like Lily? And if not, do the girls chasing you around school get annoying?”

"Honestly, I'm not sure," he answers you with such seriousness that it makes you grin toothily. This is dangerous.

"I used to like her... a lot." The admission makes you lean in until you can hear his breathing.

"I've never felt anything like that towards anyone else, but I could. I might already." he continues, his voice so low, almost sultry, that your pupils dilate. Watch yourself. You're so taken with the way he looks at you, so focused, that you wonder if it’s really him or the alcohol.

“Ask me something, Potter. It’s only fair.”

James looks down at you with a mischievous smile. "Let's start with the big one, then... what are your intentions with me? Little mouse told me you have a crush."

He says it almost in a whisper as if it's a dangerous question, and you can feel his breath on your lips as he waits for your response. It is dangerous. The way he words it makes you laugh, but instantly, your deepest thoughts come tumbling out of your mouth. This was definitely a terrible idea….

“I genuinely think I’m in love with you,” you admit to him, unable to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

“But you barely know me, so you probably think I’m crazy,” you blurt out, hand slapping over your mouth.

"And I've wanted to be near you since the first moment I ever saw you. Something about you is... so..." You trail off, suddenly shy with your words, but you can feel his eyes on you as he waits for the rest of your answer.

"It's silly," you say, not wanting to admit the true reason you want him.

James grins at you and his nose brushes your cheek, the scent of his aftershave making you weak. He could be extra mean right now, coaxing the rest of the truth out of you with a single word, but the embarrassment that wrestles in your being is enough for the next few lifetimes.

"It's okay," he whispers and places a hand gently on your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin.

"Maybe things will be different now that I know."

He stares at your lips and then suddenly asks, "Do you want to kiss?" His voice is soft as silk, and you can't believe that you've heard right. What the hell just happened?

“Um, no. Sorry.” The door cracks open with Sirius peeking out to see the two of you, but you push past him back into the party. James is left dumbfounded by your rejection, feeling like he got caught in a riptide as he drowns in embarrassment.

His eyes are wide as you hurry out the door, and you don't even turn back to look at James - instead, you're so preoccupied with getting away from him and back to your dorm that you almost run into Dorcas, who offers you a curious look as you dump out the rest of your drink in a potted plant.

“What happened, Prongs? You scare her away?” Sirius says with raised eyebrows as he looks at James standing stupidly at the edge in the dark.

“Actually, she’s in love with me and she just rejected me. And I’m on truth serum for the next few hours, and I can't figure out how I fucked up.”

James has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth when he’s left alone, and usually he’s aware of it. But even with the Veritaserum, he can’t figure out for the life of him why you ran away, no matter how many times the boys rephrase the question to him.

—-

You avoid him like the plague in the days after.

As much as you've wanted to pretend that the experience with James with just a figment of your imagination brought on by the amount of alcohol you drank, you can't help but feel utterly mortified around James. You keep your distance, only leaving your room when you absolutely have to, running out of classes you share like you’re being timed.

As the truth serum left your body that night, you’ve become increasingly sure of how you feel about James - even more so than before. It was the first time you’ve ever said you’re in love, and how can you be in love if you didn’t know it yourself before the fact! You're absolutely terrified of looking crazy like that again, of being vulnerable. Even as you try to keep your distance from him, he's literally everywhere, which only makes things worse for your emotions.

It's late in the evening and you're finally mustering up the courage to leave your room and make your way to the kitchens to grab a midnight snack.

As you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks to see James leaning against the wall, his eyes closed as he seems to be enjoying the peace and quiet. The dim lighting of the passageway casts shadows over his features and makes you wonder if he can see you at all. Your heart races and you feel as if you're back on the balcony all over again.

His eyes pop open, almost as if he was waiting for you and you can feel your stomach drop to your feet as he stares straight back at you,

"Where do you think you're going, pretty girl?" He asks, a small smile on his face.

"And why are you out this late?" He sounds almost suspicious, and you suddenly feel like a criminal just for sneaking around him so much.

"Umm... nowhere," you stammer, wishing you could disappear into the night.

"I…” You take a deep breath. Own it, already! You were already caught!

“Are you asking that as Head Boy, or…”

His smile widens, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he steps closer.

“I could, but I’m asking as a friend.”

“Didn’t know you were patrolling tonight.”

He makes a noise that doesn’t sound like a yes or a no, because honestly, he wasn’t. The crinkle of the map in his pocket would give him away if you only knew about it. You sigh, running a hand over your hair and he’s still standing there, waiting for you to say something next.

“I just came out to grab a snack. I missed dinner, so I wanted to go to the kitchens.”

“Can I come with?” And before you can reply, he’s offering his arm out for you to latch onto. You both walk silently through the halls and tickle the pear, and this somehow feels normal, comfortable, though you’ve never hung out alone like this. The house elves whizz past you, tending to your needs, and they set a tray of pastries out for the both of you to snack on. He just watches you silently as you both tiptoe around the true reason you’re both here. You're in the middle of eating a danish when he suddenly speaks.

"Why did you say no?"

You stop, flaky crumbs hanging from between your lips as you look at him.

"I asked if you wanted to kiss me, and you said no. But you said you love me, so I’ve been thinking about it since that night," James says, and you almost spit out your food. Did he actually want to kiss you?

“We were under Veritaserum…I just... I got embarrassed. I've never told anyone I've loved them before." you mumble, eyes falling to the table.

"And you barely know me. Why would you want to kiss me?" you add, dusting crumbs off your shirt. He leans in closer to you on the bench as if he’s whispering a secret.

"You barely know me, why would you say you love me?" James counters, as if he’s making a point. In truth, you know him well enough from hanging around his friends. You just never mustered the confidence to actually be his friend. Intimidating as he is, point A being him leaning so close to you that you think he might smell your fear.

"But I do know you, you just don't notice me." you mumble.

You and James both sit in silence for a moment, still in shock by the words that you've both said. The sound of the creaking wooden floorboards catches your attention as someone enters the kitchen. The two of you freeze, looking up to see Remus entering.

"What are you two doing here so late?" he asks, confused.

"I'm not sure," you stammer, feeling your face flush as you realize that you're both alone together, almost cuddling on the kitchen bench. You grab another pastry off the tray and stand up to walk out.

"Goodnight!" you blurt, walking away quickly, but James isn't letting you off that easy.

"Scuse us Moons, I'm not done with her yet," he says, following your footsteps quickly out into the hall.

You hurry away from Remus and out of the kitchen. All of your fears and insecurities seem to fill you once again as you try to process everything that's just happened. You're halfway up the stairs when James catches up to you.

"Wait," he says, putting his hand gently on your arm. You turn around, your arms wrapped tightly over your chest as you face him.

"I'm not trying to scare you, I just wanted to know," he continues, the dim light from the candles above creating deep shadows under his eyes.

“I just... Why do you care? There's so many girls that go after you, so why are you so interested in me? I already embarrassed myself in front of you like the rest of them. What makes this different?”

"Because you're different," he replies instantly.

"You're honest. Not in the way they are which makes me wonder if they even like me or just want to be associated with me. I want what you have with our friends. I want to know you," he continues quietly.

"Those girls are so focused on the idea of me and what I have to offer, but something tells me you’re different than that. And I want to know you, love. I want to know what makes you tick. You're not just some pretty girl to me," he says softly.

“You already make me tick. Standing here makes me feel like I'm going to burst into flames.” You breathe shakily, throwing caution to the wind as you continue, "You already know you're attractive, and I don't lo----like you just because of that. You're really kind when you help other students, and you don't usually prod at me like this when I can't articulate my feelings, but you're considerate. You asked me if I wanted to kiss you. You care if people are happy, and you make people feel seen, even if they're bothering you. James, even if you're a leader it's because you're a great team player. Even if you don't really know me, it makes my day when you smile at me in class. You...make me feel important."

James just stares at you with wide eyes as you spew words like a waterfall. He suddenly bites his tongue as if he's trying to stop himself, a heavy blush covering his cheeks even in the darkness of the candlelight.

You suddenly take in everything that the two of you are saying - and you realize that he's actually listening. He's really listening. There's such a raw honesty to it, and your heart races so fast inside your chest as you tack it onto the mental list of why you love him.

"So I guess that's why. Even if I didn't know it myself. Sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what? For sharing your heart with me?" he asks, his voice growing soft and a boyish smile crosses his face. He steps up onto the landing so both of you are eye level.

"If I asked to kiss you, would you say no again?" he whispers.

“As a friend?” you joke, but you don’t move away when his nose brushes yours.

His voice sends shivers through your spine, and you look up at his hazel eyes as he gazes down at you. He pulls you gently towards him, your back meeting the stone wall as he lowers his lips to yours. You close your eyes for just a moment, but the moment between the two of you lasts an eternity. There’s something electric about your lips meeting his, and the two of you melt together in the darkened alcove. It’s funny how it works, your confidence making you feel like you’re floating as you loop your arms around his neck, and the usually assertive Marauder can’t figure out where to place his hands as they hover over your waist.

As soon as it ends, James breaks away from you as if he's suddenly embarrassed that he’s just kissed you right in the stairwell. Now he’s the bashful one. The taste of cinnamon and mint still lingers even as he steps away, hand scratching the nape of his neck.

"I didn't know what else to say. Can’t seem to be cool around you," he says as he fixes your hair, a quirk in his kiss-swollen lip as he stares at you, eyes twinkling.

"I like you a lot," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I want to be with you. I want you to call me by my first name."

"You'll have to get to know me first. No hard feelings though, Potter," you say cheekily, stepping away and walking back to your room.

All that’s left of you is the forgotten pastry on the ground. James’ chest rumbles with a laugh as he scoops it up, almost skipping away.

—

He doesn’t leave you alone after that. And you make him work for it. It’s new for him, to be someone’s first and earnest choice. He thinks about you often, even when you’re right next to him, and he wants to do this right. James learns to love like you do, quietly, honestly.

You’re all hanging around the Black Lake with your friends as he leans against a tree lazily, both your fingers intertwined in the grass. James watches you laugh at Sirius and Mary splashing each other in the water, and he can see how easy it is to love someone by just watching them.

"You know," he remarks after watching silently for a moment, "you radiate when you smile."

Your face goes flush and you look down at the ground, your fingers still intertwined with his. You can feel his gaze on you, but you're too nervous to look back up at him.

"I like it when you laugh loudly, and the crease in your forehead that shows you’re thinking too hard," he adds softly, and you look up at him with wide eyes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and a small smile plays across his lips.

“I’m finding all these reasons why I’m falling for you. Is it supposed to be this easy?” He asks, leaning his head on yours.

“Yes James,” you say without hesitating, no Veritaserum needed.

The next time either of you says I love you, it leaves his lips first, and you know it’s true because he’s more than a friend now too.

—

“To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked.” -Anne Carson

love me some tunes! i listened to "you're here, that's the thing" by beabadoobee while writing!

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎ #james potter x reader angst #james potter x reader #marauders x reader

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Todays @wolfstarmicrofic prompt is wizard, and I’m doing my best to get back into my more substantial projects, I promise

(569 words.)

“Mr Lupin, you are, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the most infuriating wizards we have had! Would you care to tell me why the entirety of your charms class started laughing uncontrollably apart from you?” Minerva asked, arms folding. He merely shrugged, casual smile playing across his face.

“Dunno, Minnie. Must’ve dodged the charm.”

“And you expect me to believe that? Flitwick has been undoing this all afternoon! I’m going to assume Mr Potter had a hand in this.” Another shrug, and another wave of frustration over Minerva.

“Couldn’t tell you.”

Minerva runs an irritated hand over her face, stopping to rest at her temple for a moment.

“Merlin, I’m going to have to call your parents in, aren’t I?”

“If you wanted to.”

Without another word, Minerva pulled her desk drawer open, grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote to his parents, purposefully avoiding the phrase ‘little shit’ as she went.

“Wotcher, Minnie!” Sirius chirped, strolling down the corridor and shooting her a smile.

“You haven’t changed one bit, have you?” She said back, unable to hide her own smile at his infectious cheer. Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist.

“What’s our son gone and done?” He asked, and Minerva exhaled, watching them pointedly.

“Jinxed the entirety of his class into uncontrollable laughter.” A pause, and Sirius chuckled heartily.

“Oh, that’s bloody brilliant! How long’d it take to undo?” Remus, quite clearly biting back his own laughter, turned to his husband.

“Sirius! We have to be adults, here.”

“Please, Moony, we did way worse.”

“Mmm, we did. Still, not the time to go on some big tangent about that time we accidentally made everyone in the castle sing for 6 days.”

“You told him that?” Minerva asked, stunned.

“…maybe. To be fair, I did tell him how long we were in detention for!”

“You told him about how it made us get together.” Remus added.

“Well, you told him about the quidditch commentating incident!” Sirius protested.

“And you told him about chucking all of the Slytherin’s luggage into the black lake.”

“Yeah, I don’t think a lecture from us will be as impactful as we want it to be.” Sirius concluded.

“It’s fine, I’ve got a plan.” Remus waved him off easily.

They followed Minerva to her office, where Teddy was sitting with his arms crossed. He turned his head at the arrival of his parents, smiling like he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Hey, dads.”

“Professor McGonnagal here tells us that you’ve been tormenting your class?” Teddy just shrugged.

“Don’t know what you’re on about. No evidence.” Remus swiftly nudged Sirius to make sure he didn’t start laughing again.

“Well, I’m glad I’ll be able to start keeping an eye on you, then!” Remus said cheerfully, feigned relief flooding through his voice. They all watched as Teddy’s face dropped.

“What?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? I accepted a position here. Starting in September. I’m your new DADA professor.”

“You’re not.” Teddy said, voice low, like he was trying to talk Remus out of it.

“Mm, but I am.” He said with a tranquil smile, turning to Sirius, who nodded. Minerva watched the interaction and tried to keep from chuckling.

She hadn’t realised that Remus had accepted the offer yet, but she was so fucking glad that he had.

With a casual clearing of the throat, she leaned in and added,

“You’ll be serving all of your detentions with me.”

#Remus and Sirius were just as bad as Teddy #probably even worse #I love them for it #probably got caught fucking in a classroom #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

[its-time-to-write]

i know now it’ll pass - ch. 2

Note: slight allusion of SA all i do is think about the past

You did consider calling out sick, but it’s Friday and you can just stare at your screen for eight hours and then sleep for two straight days.

You’re making the trek from your car to the office and you’re absolutely positive you look like hell. Sure, your hair and makeup is done, but there’s no masking the exhaustion in your bones. You drag yourself through the door and past everyone else headed to their various workstations, including Roy and a confused Jamie.

“Oi, porch girl, what’re you doing here?” Jamie asks. Roy smacks him on the back of the head.

“She fucking works here, you twat.”

You don’t point out that you’ve literally run into him twice, and maybe count it a blessing that he doesn’t remember you. Instead, you nod wearily and head to your desk.

It’s a fairly easygoing day, and you decide to take a late lunch. You’re halfway through your meal, absorbed in chewing each bite thoroughly and not falling asleep, when you hear someone call your name from the doorway. You look up to see Jamie standing and fiddling with his shirt.

“Do you even talk?” he asks, no preamble. 

“What?” you say, confused. You realize you actually haven’t said much to him in any of your interactions other than “sorry.”

“Oh,” you reply, “yeah, I do. I’m just tired, is all. Neurons aren’t firing at full capacity and all that.”

Jamie nods. “Just wanted make sure you were all right. Got your name from one of the blokes across the hall, cuz we can’t keep calling you ‘porch girl.’ Anyway, are you?”

You half-laugh. “Yeah, can’t you tell? I’m obviously doing great.”

Jamie’s face morphs from concern to slight offence.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you hasten to continue. “I haven’t slept well all week, and it’s made me snippy. I wasn’t- it’s not about you. I just can’t quite think straight.”

Jamie nods again. “Right,” he says, “don’t think that’s healthy. Coach is always on me for rest days. Maybe you need one too.”

You shrug. “I mean, that probably works for you because you’re on a footballer’s salary. I don’t really have time for personal days aside from the weekend. There’s stuff to be done and bills to pay, so…” you trail off as you realize you’ve spoken unfiltered again.

“Anyway,” you say, fake smile plastered on your face, “thanks for checking in. See you around.”

Jamie takes his cue and leaves.

—

Why did you think you’d be able to sleep better on the weekend? You don’t know. Girls’ night is officially a no-go, so you’re trying to wear yourself out with some yoga. Sometimes physical exertion helps, but you can barely think straight enough to get in the correct positions. You’re going to cry again, and probably have to call your doctor because this can’t be normal. You just wish your brain would shut up long enough for you to rest. 

You drag yourself out of bed and to the kitchen for a cup of tea. At least you’ll get to see a gorgeous sunrise.

—

You’re not positive when you fell asleep, but you did. You had a dream of someone’s strong arms around you carrying you from the steps to your bed. The dream lingers as you slowly blink your eyes open and realize that you actually are in your bed.

How did you get here? You know for an absolute fact that you are not a sleepwalker, nor did you wake up in between passing out in your front yard and now. You didn’t get yourself here, so who did?

The flat is quiet, and light is peeking in through the curtains. You check your phone to see if maybe one of your friends had helped you inside, but there’s no text letting you know. You frown. Maybe you’re just going insane.

You roll out of bed and grab your robe, then stop in front of your door. There’s a sticky note right at eye-level that says, don’t freak out, I’m in your kitchen. - Jamie (from work)

Oh shit.

You frantically run your fingers through your hair then fly down the stairs to find Jamie on his back on your couch, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up and says, “Wotcher,” completely unfazed. He swings his legs onto the floor and sits up.

“Let me explain,” he says as you gape at him. “I was on a run without Roy, and saw you asleep on your steps. Figured you’d want to be left alone after last time. But then I came by later on me way back and saw your door was cracked open. So I helped you upstairs and then stayed here with the door locked so no fuckin’ creeps would come in. You really should lock your door,” he continues, “Never know what sort are lurking ‘round.”

You’re still staring at him, uncomprehending. Jamie frowns. “Shit, didn’t mean to overstep. Just- you didn’t look so good and I thought it’d be better for you to sleep. And we’re not like, fucking strangers are we? Shit, I’m sorry.”

That snaps you out of it. “No!” you reply. “No, we’re not strangers. And it wasn’t… weird. It wasn’t weird. It’s just nice, which is why I was having trouble responding. I mean sure, this is the longest we’ve ever talked without me tripping over air, but you’re not- I mean, I don’t feel unsafe around you. You’re not that type of person.”

Jamie’s phone is away and his hands are tangled in his shirt. You wonder if it’s a nervous response.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says after a pause. “Maybe go back to sleep, yeah?”

You nod. “You want a cuppa before you go?”

Jamie hesitates, which is different from the flat-out no you expected. Finally he says, “Nah, should probably get going. Don’t want me hanging ‘round longer than needed, innit?”

You’re not really sure how to respond to that, but Jamie doesn’t give you a chance to before he’s down the front steps and out the gate.

Damn it.

—

The not-dream of Jamie’s arms carrying you to bed is much more comforting than the dreams you usually have. The ones where you’re suffocating under a blanket and everything is cold and slimy and you’re screaming and screaming, but no one takes notice. 

You wonder if it can actually be classified as a dream, or if it’s more of a memory?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter because you push it down. No sense in thinking about it in the daylight when it’s sure to haunt you at night.

—

It’s embarrassing to see Jamie at Nelson Road, so you avoid him if you can. He certainly knows who you are now, and the few times you have accidentally made eye contact have been painful. Each time, he’s looked at you with the same completely indiscernible gaze, the one that makes your face heat up and slip out of whatever room your in. You successfully avoid conversations for four days, but he finds his way to your office on Friday.

“You good?” he says as he walks in without knocking and sits unceremoniously in the chair opposite you.

“Yes..?” you reply, unsure why he’s even here. You don’t forget that he’s Jamie Tartt, star striker and really should have no interest in you, like at all.

“Cool,” he says, still sitting sideways in the chair. You wonder if he’s capable of sitting normally. 

You stare at each other in silence for a moment before you say, “Not trying to be rude, but why are you here?”

Jamie scrunches up his face. “Wanted to know why you were avoiding me and to apologize for it. Whatever it was, I didn’t fucking mean it.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you say aloud, “no, you didn’t do anything. It’s me. All of our interactions have been supremely embarrassing, so I figured if we don’t talk, I can’t get embarrassed.”

Jamie nods in understanding. “That’s proper shit,” he says.

You never know how to respond to half the things this boy says, so you just settle on, “Ok,” then go back to typing.

“You got any allergies?” Jamie’s voice breaks the silence again and startles you into a typo. You delete it and look up at him.

“No?” you reply, confused. 

Jamie laughs. “Why’d you say it like a question? You unsure if you’re fucking allergic to something?”

For a moment you think he’s taking the piss, but there’s genuine amusement in his eyes as you shrug. 

“I don’t know, it’s just how I talk. Why do you want to know if I have any allergies?”

Jamie rummages in one of his jacket pockets and plops a box down on your desk. “Mum said this is the best tea for insomnia. Figured out you can’t fucking sleep so I called her and asked. She used to make it when I was a lad and bouncing off the walls, like. Thought it might help.”

This is the second time Jamie has done something just plain nice for you, and it’s freaking you out a little bit. It feels… uneven. Wrong, maybe.

“How much was it?” you ask in an attempt to settle the score. “I have cash in a drawer.”

Jamie scrunches his face again. “You don’t fucking owe me for this shit,” he says. “Ted’s always on us about ‘doing things we want done without fucking hoping some shit in return.’ Only he didn’t say ‘fuck,’ or ‘shit.’”

You’ve seen Ted. You know how he is.

“Well, thanks,” you reply. “It means a lot. I’ll try it and let you know.”

Jamie grins, a great beaming smile that warms you from your chest all the way to your fingertips.

“Mint,” he says before bounding out the door.

—

The tea actually helped. Or maybe it was just the fact that someone was thinking about you, doing something without expecting a favor in return. Whatever the case, you don’t end up on the porch. Sure, your sleep is still jacked up, but not as much as before. It’s restless, but it’s a sleep void of dreams.

—

You report back to Jamie the next day, and he takes it like a personal challenge. A mission of sorts. He’s in your office every other day with some remedy or the other, all for the sake of helping you sleep.

One day it’s, “Dani said if you put these plants under your pillow, you’ll sleep like you’re dead.”

“They’re herbs, Jamie.”

Or, “Richard has this oil thingy from France and he says you’ll sleep like a baby.”

You bite your tongue to keep from pointing out that babies don’t sleep well.

Or another time, “Coach said if you burned this in like a bowl or some shit it’ll cleanse your aura I guess? His girlfriend uses it, I think it smells fucking nasty.”

You both shudder. Coach Beard is nice, but his girlfriend certainly is a character.

You try everything and report back the next day. Jamie has taken to asking you to stick your head into the locker room so that the team can hear each verdict. They still don’t really know who you are, but they’re invested in this challenge. They’re sweet, and it’s funny to start your day with their cheers of success or groans of disappointment. You think the best was when Richard made a comment about certain aerobic exercise that might tire you out and Jamie had a murderous look on his face. You’re not sure what the look means, but you did bring it up ever-so casually at the next girls’ night.

“He thinks you’re hot, babe,” says Jessica once the squeals have died down.

“No way,” you reply. “Impossible.”

Evelyn shakes her head. “I have to agree with Jess on this one. He’s into you.”

Your protests are lost amid another round of giggles, and you let yourself believe them for a single moment before quenching that stupid little spark that’s beginning to burn brighter in your chest.

Table of Contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[asnarkyandironicusername]

Day 18 of @remadoramicrofics - Night of the Aging Werewolf

Teddy crept down the steps, careful to avoid the second-to-last, since it had started squeaking. His father insisted he would fix it, but Teddy sometimes wondered if his parents used it as a trap. He moved silently across the living room floor, a skill acquired through years of monthly missions, until he reached the kitchen. He hovered in the doorway and listened for a moment; sometimes, his mother would forget something and come up the stairs in a flurry.

When Teddy had first started doing this, his father had been so strict and his mother so vigilant that it had taken significant effort to avoid detection as he snuck to the cellar door. As the years passed, though, his father had remained steadfast, but his mother had relaxed, sometimes forgetting to take her wand or deciding to come up to fetch a drink or something else. In a week’s time, he’d be at Hogwarts and he intended to spend this full moon with his parents – consequences be darned. He pulled his blanket tight around his shoulders and set his pillow down from where it had been tucked under his arm as he settled in front of the door.

He leaned forward and peered through the small keyhole into their cellar. Usually, it was dark and chill, just an old root cellar, but on full moons, his parents charmed it to stay warm and dimly lit. Tonight, his mum sat twirling her wand in her fingers while his dad was curled on the other end.

She was talking to him quietly, so quietly that Teddy couldn’t hear. Suddenly, she popped up from the sofa and headed towards the stairs. Teddy scrambled backwards, but the blanket and pillow coupled with his shock did him no favors and he instead sprawled out on the floor. He had just righted himself when the cellar door creaked open.

Teddy stared at his feet, ready for a dressing down. His mother cleared her throat and he looked up at her. To his surprise, there was no cross look, but a small, knowing smile on her face. “Well, come on, would you like to tell your father goodnight?”

“D-downstairs?”

“Are you scared, Edward?” she asked a bit louder than necessary.

Teddy shook his head. “No, but Dad always said –”

“If you want to come down and tell him goodnight, you’re welcome to, and then you can head off to bed.”

Teddy nodded. “I want to tell him,” he said as he squared his shoulders.

“Leave the blanket,” his mother instructed, “Your father will never let me hear the end of it if you get hurt coming down to see him. Even if it’s just because you took a tumble down the stairs.”

Teddy giggled as he followed her down the steps. His father was still on the sofa, though he seemed to be a bit nervous, but had draped a paw over his snout. “Wotcher, Da.” Teddy said as he sat next to him on the sofa. Tonks squeezed in next to him.

“I told you, he has your curiosity, Remus, and your courage,” his mum said smugly. She looked at him. “I told him he should have known you’d come sneaking around.”

Teddy’s jaw fell open. “How long have you known?” he asked them.

His mum laughed. “Your father knew as soon as you came off the last step that very first night, Teddy.”

“I was so quiet. And fast!”

His mum shrugged. “Your father’s impressive.”

Teddy looked his dad over; the way he had tucked himself as small as possible and kept his paw firmly over his snout. “Are you mad?”

His dad thumped his tail twice.

“Means no,” his mum said, “three is a yes.”

“So can I stay down here, too?”

Remus, again, tapped his tail twice. Teddy deflated as his mum slung an arm around his shoulder. “I don’t even get to stay all night, kiddo.”

“Can I…touch you?” Teddy asked.

Remus looked Teddy over before slowly tapping his tail off the sofa three times.

“Mind the teeth,” his mum said as he reached out and ran his hand over Remus’s head.

His mum stood up. “Alright, up to bed you go.”

Teddy pouted. “Right now?”

“Yes, Teddy.”

“Mum –”

“No arguing.” 

Teddy groaned and turned back to his father. “Goodnight, Da. See you in the morning?” Three taps.

“Let’s go mister,” she said as she pulled him up and steered him to the steps. When they reached the top, she kissed his cheek before handing him his pillow and pointing him towards the steps. “He loves you, Teddy, it’s why he doesn’t want you down there,” she told him gently. “It took ages before he even let me get a peek of him, it’s just how he is.”

Teddy nodded. He knew all of this, of course. She added, “I think it’s the age – it’s softening him.”

They smiled at each other. “He’ll be okay; we’ll make him breakfast,” he said as he started for the steps.

“We will,” his mom agreed as she watched him.

#remadora microfics #remus lupin fanfiction #nymphadora tonks fanfic #teddy lupin fanfiction #nymphadora tonks #remus lupin #nymphadora lupin #teddy lupin #Another teddy-centric one #werewolf!remus #werewolf remus lupin

[jamiesfootball]

For the word game: sorry, late, loss, cook, and/or couple

Sorry this took a while to get to!

Sorry

"Shit," she swore, pulling away. Her palms broke into a sweat, clammy where they fumbled the forgotten book against her chest, holding it close like she could shield him from- "Shit. Fuck. I'm sorry, Jamie, I shouldn't have-" "Don't worry about it," he said easily. It was his tone. She'd pinpoint that later. It wasn't the way his lovely, lively face had transformed itself into a blank slate, or how he didn't pull away from her- she'd reeled back, but he hadn't moved a millimeter, his chin piled on top of arms too crossed and hands that seemed like they should be fisted but weren't- It was his tone that made her heart rabbit. Dropped something cold into her bloodstream until the entirety of her began to tremble. "Don't worry about it," he'd said, and it could've been straight from an answering machine, an old recording on his inbox that he'd made on a better day and replayed now for her convenience. "No," she tried to argue. It came out like a question. "No, Jamie. Look-" "It's fine," he cut her off. He never cut her off. "We don't need to talk about it; just let it go."

Late

The thing about Jamie, Roy had learned the hard way, was that he didn't get keen-eyed over football. He didn't let on what he was thinking - not like he did with pissing people off, where you could see the glimmer sharpening from a mile away. No, when it came to football, his understanding came as subtle and relentless as a tidal wave, happening somewhere so deep under the surface that by the time he pulled out the rage-inducing cockiness, it was far too late for the opposition.

Loss

The thing about winning was that the high didn't stick around long. Oh, the losses could bleed a river through the longest month, but a win faded. Two or three days later, and it was back to business as usual. In this case they'd won and lost in one go, so what he expected was a mix -- some people in a good mood, some people in a bad mood. Excitement tinged with regret crushed under the dull weight of administration as the cogs in the building turned over the realities of managing a football club. Instead, the halls were awash with chipper smiles, and Maria from ads winked at him and said, "Wotcher, Coach. We'll get 'em next year, ey?" He should've stayed in bed another day.

Cook

Jamie slumped back into the couch like Roy was the one trying his patience- not trying to help the prick. “I don’t know,” he sulked. “Curry rice.” Roy frowned. “It’s not a one-for-one on meal plan approved ingredients, but it’s not a bad starting point.” Jamie’s chuckle wouldn’t be out of place at a wake. “Not quite, mate. It’s just rice cooked in with one of them cubes of curry flavoring. The salt content alone could dry up a camel. I don’t think swapping out rice for quinoa is going to fix that.” “That’s-“ Sad. “I know, right? Disgusting. Especially after you get used to eating veg and not living off pot noodle or that canned stuff you put over tuna. Or prawn crackers. Trust me, I spent my entire time in the academy getting chewed out about my diet -- I don’t need to hear it again.” Fucking Christ, the starting point was in a pit.

Couple

[Roy] guided Jamie forward a couple of steps into the grass and asked, "Have you ever done yoga?" Jamie entertained the idea that he was still sleeping. He licked his teeth; they felt fuzzy and disgusting. Awake then.

#word game wednesday #(late friday edition) #writing snippets #fic: the one that makes you sick #fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) #fic: i still feel like the same person I've been #roy kent #jamie tartt #keeley jones #cw food #cw sports diets

[seriouslysam8]

Brumous Sneak Peek

Chapter Twenty-Three: Turning Fifteen

Glancing over at his godfather, who was still in his swim trunks from when they were in the pool earlier, Harry found himself studying Sirius’ array of tattoos. It wasn’t the first time he had tried to decipher the meanings behind all of them. Some were easier to figure out the meaning to than others. His eyes stopped at the words bête noire etched across Sirius’ heart and he felt bile rise in his throat. When he had heard the story behind the tattoo after his possession when Marlene asked about it in the kitchen of the Burrow, Harry had understood for the first time why Sirius had declined to be his family’s Secret Keeper. Even now, Sirius refused to be a Secret Keeper to any house where Harry potentially stayed. 

As though feeling Harry’s eyes on him, Sirius turned to look at him. He shoved his sunglasses up into his hair, his eyes squinting at Harry and causing little lines to spread from the corners. 

“You all right?” Sirius asked, the book of puzzles long forgotten.

Harry nodded before tilting his chin to indicate Sirius’ upper arm. “The constellation tattoo on your arm, which one is that?”

Sirius glanced down at his arm briefly. “Hydra,” he replied and pointed to one of the stars. “That’s Alphard. I got it after he died. We were all named after stars or constellations, in case you never noticed. Or I guess, most of us were.”

“I had an inkling,” Harry replied. 

Sirius smiled. “I purposely failed my Astronomy O.W.L. to stick it to Walburga. Got a Dreadful.”

Harry let out a small chuckle. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“I was aiming for a Troll,” Sirius continued, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “James and I were convinced the grade didn’t exist after that. I tried my damn near hardest to answer every single question wrong. I even answered a question wrong about my own name.”

Sirius turned back to his crossword, the top of his quill scratching his chin. For some reason, a touch of melancholy washed over Harry. Their time in France was nearing an end and he’d be back at Hogwarts in less than a week. While he hadn’t wanted to go to France to begin with, he was really glad they did. He felt impossibly closer to Sirius, closer to Andromeda and Ted, and had started to become closer with Remus and Tonks. Harry wondered if this was what it meant to have a family, just people always around willing to talk about anything and everything under the sun. To have people he could rely on when he was upset or nervous, to hug when he needed the support, and just know someone always had his best interest at heart. 

Sirius cleared his throat. “Oi, what’s a Seeker defensive dive that causes the other Seeker to crash in a last second pull out? Blank Feint.”

“Wronski Feint,” Harry replied. 

Sirius mouthed the word Wronski, spelling it out. “Is that with a y?”

Harry shook his head. “No, an I.”

“Ahh, that makes sense. All right, thanks,” Sirius replied as he wrote the letters down in the boxes. 

Harry closed his potions book and looked up to see Remus and Tonks making their way towards the house. Tonks shook out her pink locks, her gaze glancing over at Remus who smiled softly at the sand as he carried both boogie boards. 

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks greeted as she shoved Sirius’ legs off the coffee table and took a seat across from them. 

Sirius huffed, resting his ankle on the opposite knee.

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

hello, tedoire 46 please? thank you :)

Tedoire - 46 is a kiss out of envy/jealousy. Get ready for some TOOTH ROTTING TEDOIRE FLUFF. Read below or on AO3. French translations below.

...

“You’re staring, Vic.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Dominique sticks her tongue out and points her nose toward the Hufflepuff table, where Teddy Lupin is grinning and laughing with that flirty Gryffindor sixth-year, Seraphina Podmore. 

“It’s breakfast,” Victoire says primly, spreading jam on her toast. “No one wants to see that when they’re trying to eat.”

“You mean people being friendly?” Dominique goads. Victoire is tempted to smash her sister’s face into her porridge.

Victoire sits up straight and attempts to mimic her mother’s cool, indifferent aura. 

“À quoi ça sert d’être une Veela,” she mutters, “si seuls les garçons moches vous aiment?”

Dominique rolls her eyes at the comment and returns to her porridge. Victoire knows she’s prettier than Seraphina. It’s not as if Seraphina had a pile of valentines delivered to her a week ago. It’s not as if the Gryffindor girl can make boys swoon with just a look. 

What does precious Seraphina have that Victoire doesn’t? 

“Maybe he sees you like a sister or a cousin,” Dominique offers, pushing a goblet of pumpkin juice at her. “We practically grew up together.”

Victoire frowns deeply. It’s true—there was never a time she didn’t know Teddy. He was always there in the background, at birthday parties, weddings, and weekly Sunday dinners. He isn’t a Weasley though, not like her actual cousins. 

“He’s coming over, Vic.” 

Dominique’s elbow in Victoire’s side makes her wince, just as Teddy comes to sit at the Ravenclaw table, right next to Victoire, with an apple in his hand. 

“Wotcher, Vic,” he says, pushing the turquoise fringe out of his warm, brown eyes. He sees Dominique and musses her hair playfully, earning a scowl from the younger Weasley.

Perhaps the cousin or family theory is right, and that’s why Teddy’s never looked twice at her. Victoire suddenly remembers that cousins have been married before, without letting their familial relationships get in the way of true love. Besides, she and Teddy aren’t even blood cousins!

“You look like you’re laying an egg,” Teddy says, as he grins and takes a bite of his apple. “Bee in your bonnet?”

“O.W.L.s,” Victoire replies automatically, feeling decidedly unattractive and embarrassed after Teddy’s compared her to a bloody chicken. 

“Need help with anything?” He takes another bite of the apple and wipes away the juice left behind on his chin and lips. 

It’s so unfair that he’s fit, handsome, brilliant, and—

“Victoire,” Dominique says, stabbing her with a fork. “Teddy asked you a question.” 

“Come again?” Victoire is certain her face is as red as Gryffindor’s crimson.

A class bell rings and students are leaving; Victoire’s got a study period first thing in the morning and Teddy’s not moving. 

“Il est amoureux de toi, imbécile,” Dominique whispers rapidly and harshly into Victoire’s ear. “Ne partez pas encore. Les garçons sont des idiots. Embrasse-le pour qu’il sache que tu ressens la même chose.” 

Dominique wags her finger at Victoire and the third year waltzes away, joining her friends on their way to Charms; Victoire wonders if she can get away with slapping her later.

“Don’t you have class?” Victoire says nervously, realizing she’s quite alone with Teddy at the Ravenclaw table.

“Not till the afternoon. Sprout’s got us monitoring the Mandrakes and they’re, er, getting busy this morning.” Victoire nods in understanding and he adds, “Besides, I wanted to see you. It’s been ages since we last talked.”

“Ages?” Victoire smiles nervously. “We saw each other the other day, at Hogsmeade.”

Teddy makes a funny sound and waves his hand. “You were with your girlfriends and I was on Head Boy duty. It doesn’t count. Two minutes isn’t enough with my favorite Weasley.”

Victoire feels fluttering in her stomach and heat radiates to the tips of her fingers and toes. “I’m your favorite Weasley? Not—Jamie or Al or Lily?”

Teddy arches a turquoise eyebrow. “Jamie, Al, and Lily are Potters. You’re a Weasley.”

“Oh, right.”

“Sera said the same thing,” Teddy tells her. “Jamie might be a Potter, but he does look an awful lot like a Weasley.”

“Sera,” Victoire repeats, sniffing disdainfully. “Seraphina Podmore.”

“Did you see her earlier? She’s wicked funny and clever—”

“—I did. She seemed to be having a good time with you.”

“She’s a good friend.” Teddy’s brows come together. His apple is down to its core and he swings his leg across the bench, facing Victoire directly. “Did I say something wrong? You’re—you look upset.”

Kiss him, Dominique said. Boys are idiots.

Teddy’s mouth is slightly parted and he’s got a confused, adorable look in his eyes. Victoire swallows hard, trying not to stare at his chiseled jaw, kind, gentle eyes, or his full, perfectly kissable lips.

“Seraphina—”

Victoire closes her eyes and cuts him off, covering her mouth with his so lightly, so briefly, she wonders if it happened, but when she tries to pull away, he growls and brings her face back to his.

He tastes like a tart apple and feels warm, but firm against her face. Victoire doesn’t know where her hands should go but they find his hips and settle there as he deepens the kiss and pulls her closer. She obliges and feels his fingers creeping away from her face, finding her arms, waist, and—

“AHEM.”

They break apart at once and Victoire’s jaw drops when she sees Professor McGonagall eyeing them sternly.

“Mr. Lupin,” she says briskly. “Miss Weasley.”

Victoire is mortified but Teddy is smiling. 

“I apologize, Professor,” he says. “As you know, I took the matter of inter-house relationships very seriously when I became Head Boy.”

Victoire isn’t sure if McGonagall is amused or offended. The Headmistress takes five points away from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and orders them out of the Great Hall, but doesn’t assign detention. 

Teddy helps Victoire gather her things and they run out to the Entrance Hall, both pink in the face and glowing. She thinks, just for a moment, that she might have been dreaming it all. 

“Room of Requirement,” Teddy whispers, his eyes flashing back to the Great Hall where McGonagall is watching them. “Eight o’clock. I’ll be done with rounds. That is—” A charming blush creeps onto his face. “—if you want.”

Victoire squeezes his hand and grins. 

ship kiss asks

...

French translations: (correct if wrong, my dear Francophones)

“À quoi ça sert d’être une Veela si seuls les garçons moches vous aiment?” = "What is the point of being a Veela if only the ugly boys like you?"

“Il est amoureux de toi, imbécile. Ne partez pas encore. Les garçons sont des idiots. Embrasse-le pour qu’il sache que tu ressens la même chose.” = He's in love with you, you imbecile. Don't leave. Boys are idiots. Kiss him so he knows you feel the same way.

#tedoire #asks #send asks #teddy lupin #victoire weasley #fluff #tooth rotting fluff

[bblinkppotterr]

First, I am so sorry that anon was rude to you. Second, since everyone is talking about how you are so critical of Ginny and not Harry, maybe you could tell us how you're critical of Harry if that makes sence? Sorry English is not my first language, I hope this makes sence.

Of course I will talk about it if you are interested. I have never been vocal about somethings I hate about Harry. So this post is about things I don't like about him. This may not be new for others because many have these issues with Harry, so this is not a new stuffs. But let me show you my opinion.

And I would very much request every Harry fans who cannot stand hearing any criticism of him to kindly ignore this post. Because this is not for you guys to read.

Harry is sometimes ignorant. Like, yes he was grown up in a very worst way possible but to be honest, in my opinion, sometimes, he tends to make everything about himself. I hate this attitude of his.

In deathly hallows, there were two moments where I sort of had a dislike towards Harry's attitude.

“It’s your family, ’course you’re worried. I’d feel the same way.” He thought of Ginny. “I do feel the same way.”

Here he needed to remember Ginny to feel the same way, like he could not remember Molly, who knitted him a jumper, who cooked his meals, visited him as a guardian in triwizard tournament or spoke in front of everyone about how Harry is as good as her own children.

I also have issue with how Harry didn't apologize when Ron came back. Ron was actually pointing out their real issues, it's not about Harry and Hermione spending more time with each others or empty stomach. He was not well, was splinched. But there were not reaching any solution. All were sort of dead ends. Harry told him, ordered him to get out, then did not had a little bit of decency to apologize for elevating their fight into something physical and bigger. It's funny because this is the boy who make every issues "his fault".

Also in Hermione-Ron fiasco, his inner thoughts sort of supports Hermione and look down upon Ron. I was sad while reading Ron in that book, especially I am more like Ron in real life, that is flawed but always wanted to do something better next chance that I get. This is why when people say Ron- Harry are greater than Harry-Hermione, I disagree. Because yes Ron-Harry are great but if something happens between Romione's relationship, Harry may not say anything but we readers will be sure to read his thoughts about how he is leaning into Hermione's side. He also have this too much dependency towards Hermione. But that is not a problem so never mind.

In Fifth book, Harry's attitude towards the whole Marietta fiasco was cruel to me. He had no problem with his best friend permanently scarring another girl of his age. Marietta was one year older but it's not right to leave that fate to that girl. Any child would do anything to save their mother . Also how his admiration towards Ginny being "rarely weepy". If this boy did not plan to grow up, I swear he will not have a successful relationship life, because maybe Ginny does not be a weepy girl this time but what if in future she became weepy? Emotions are variable and very much unstable, isn't it?

Also, his attitude towards Percy. Percy is not cool because he is not a prankster, he care about rules and regulations and do a lot of hard work to study and score very good marks. When his best friend does it, he have no problem but when a boy does it, it is suddenly "pompous".

He tends to look down into girly girls like Parvati and Lavender, like I feel that he did not seem to like them while reading. Because to him, strong girls need to either badmouth others or play quidditch or say "wotcher" or be a book nerd. God punish any girls giggling for some stupid reasons.

Now , seeing him in epilogue, with a successful relationship and a little family, I guess he recovered his problems. But he was happy to not have to greet Percy, so I guess still a bit of a git..... So yeah, these are some issues I have with Harry.

#harry potter #harry james potter #potterhead #harry potter critical #blinkgotasked

[mysticnightmarewrites]

the night we met - Ch. 7

The time is finally here. After everything Gendry and Arya have been to each other, it's time for Gendry to decide whether to take a different path. The consequences could be more dire than he's even realized. What will the world look like when he returns to the present day?

Read Ch. 1-6 on Tumblr

SONG: "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron PAIRING: Arya/Gendry LENGTH: 1.7k words WARNINGS: Minors DNI

The leaves of the heart tree were falling all around the godswood, falling into her hair, swirling around me, despite the summer sun stubbornly refusing to set just yet. They hadn't been there the night we met, but they were there now. Just like how I could feel the old gods in everything, though I hadn't noticed the first time around. When the leaves settled onto the ground, they formed a crimson path toward the woman I'd loved for what felt like my whole life, even though I'd been 21 when we met. I suddenly realized that there was only one of me left.

"It's up to you now," I could almost hear the bleeding tree whisper with its open mouth.

The glass of water I reached for felt solid in my hand, and I took a sip while I watched Arya stare at the heart tree, tears in her eyes and sister by her side. Something in me was pulling me toward her, down the trail of foliage, despite my best intentions to stay fixed to the ground near the door.

A ball of red hair darted by my side.

"Wotcher," I called out, and the kid stopped. "You're Rickon, right?" Ned had talked of him often.

He looked surprised to be addressed. "Most people are ignoring me."

"That sucks, kid. Here," I said, passing him the fidget spinner from my pocket. I had done the same the first time around, and it wouldn't hurt anything to show him that little bit of kindness.

"Thanks, man," he said, spinning it around his fingers as he found a little nook to sit where no one would run into him.

I turned back to the little table that had been set out and cringed at the loud clink of the glass on the metal. It drew Arya's eyes to me. She was wiping the tears off on her sleeve. I could tell she didn't recognize me, but there was curiosity in her gaze, taking in my cheap suit and my leather jacket. At the time, I'd just thought it was because she couldn't imagine her dad associating with anyone as rough as me. But now I knew there was a spark of something there, from the first moment we locked eyes. It had pulled me toward her even then.

All I had to do was walk away, and this would be the last time those eyes haunted me. The only time they had ever met. Knowing that was excruciating. There was so much weight on my shoulders, and I couldn't take it. But as much as I couldn’t stay, I couldn't get my feet to turn away. Surely it wouldn't hurt to hear her voice one last time? One final time before everything ended. Just a little something to carry with me.

Slowly, I made my way over to the only person I had ever allowed myself to love after years of hiding away my heart. “Hey,” I said, remembering the exact words I’d said that night.

“Let me guess, you’re sorry for my loss.” Arya could be like barbed wire when she wanted. It had been something I’d liked about her, and I still did. I smiled, in spite of myself.

“Nah. The world fucking sucks is what I was going to say.”

“See, he gets it,” she said, dramatically gesturing to me and looking up at her sister. “When I say something like that, you all look at me like I grew a second head.”

“For seven’s sake, Arya, you know mother doesn’t like profanity.”

“I know, I know, ‘It’s not ladylike,’” she said, and I soaked up every word I could. “Could you do me a favor?” Her voice suddenly turned serious. Sansa nodded. “Find out wherever Jon’s been sulking and tell him he needs to say bye before he leaves for the North tomorrow.”

“On it. Behave yourself, now.”

Arya nodded, but there was something of a twinkle in her eye, shining through the tears that lingered.

I’d forgotten we’d been left alone so early in the night, but it felt like magic standing next to her again in front of the heart tree. Had it really always been this electric between us?

“I’m Gendry.”

“Arya.”

“I know,” I said, thankful she hadn’t put out a hand the first time around either. I didn’t think I could bear to touch her.

“What brings you here?” she asked, as if she was a bartender pushing her sleeves back and ready to hear her patron’s long life stories.

“Ned showed up at my shop a while back – I’m a mechanic – and well, he knew my dad back in the day. Bobby Baratheon?” She nodded in recognition. “He helped me get an allowance from the old man. I’ll be going to college for the first time this fall because of him.”

“Sounds like my dad,” she said.

“I know it doesn’t change anything, but I just wanted to say, Ned deserved better than what those bastards did to him.” It felt like those words were important to say, no matter what would happen next. But then Arya said something I had forgotten.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll have to keep you around. No one else here is brave enough to say the truth. It’s suffocating. I could use someone who gets it.”

Her words were said lightly. There was no deep meaning in them. But after reliving all our years together, they carried a new meaning, the words shining a guiding light. I had been so focused on the pain. First mine, and then ours. But now there was something new, something deeper than even the joy we had found in each other’s arms.

By the time we had met, it had been many years since I’d faced my own great loss. I’d had years to learn how to grow around it, but I had had to do all the pruning and tilling alone, and it had been the most difficult thing I’d ever had to do, until I had to lose Arya. I wouldn’t wish that loneliness on anyone, and certainly not on the fierce woman in front of me. Arya had never needed anyone. She was the most independent person I’d ever met, but still, I had just spent countless moments walking through all the ways we had mended each other. And she had thanked me for it. She hadn’t just been grateful for all the fun and excitement we’d had. I had been there for her when no one else had. She’d tried to tell me as much, but I couldn’t see past myself. I couldn’t leave her at this party, alone. Couldn’t let her walk through the next few years of her life without anyone to lie down beside her.

As much as it had hurt losing her, I would carry that pain a million times over for her. All for her. I would be what she needed, and she would still let me go when she was ready to walk alone, but I would do this one thing. There was no time to look back. Only forward.

“Want to get out of here, then?” I asked, repeating the words I’d said all those years ago. I relished in her eager nod, but I watched as the Gendry I had once been took her hand and walked with her out the door.

“How do you feel about a motorcycle?” I heard my past self say as they moved out of earshot.

Relief filled my body and sent me to my knees. If I had let her go, a part of me would have always regretted it. That much was clear now. The bleeding face stared me down, the red trickling down the pale white bark.

“Take me back,” I whispered. “Take me back to the present. I'm ready. I’m ready.”

A swirl of leaves surrounded me until all I saw was blood, and my vision went black.

“Wake up, wake up!” I heard a voice calling. I came to with Rickon leaning over me. “Do I really have to micromanage all my brothers?”

His words didn’t fully process at first. “What time is it?” I asked, groggy. I felt like I’d been hit over the head with a brick.

“It’s 5. The guests will start showing up anytime now. Go pick a seat.”

Blankly, I stared at both sides of the aisle, wondering which to pick. I’d been friends off and on with Pod for years, and Sansa was my ex’s sister. I wasn’t sure what fancy people’s etiquette would say about a situation like this.

“For the old gods’ sake,” Rickon groaned. “Go sit over there. You’re one of us.” And then it finally kicked in that he’d called me his brother. “Nope, end of discussion,” he said with finality when he noticed I was about to walk his statement back.

“Man, you’re bossy,” I grumbled as I sat down in the back, where I hoped no one would much notice me, anyway.

The guests filtered in slowly, but it seemed like the seats were all filled in a matter of moments, and I tried to avoid catching anyone’s eye. The only person who seemed to recognize me was Pod, who gave me a nod. Rickon soon ushered the last person into their seat and followed suit.

When the violinist near the end of the aisle started playing, I watched as the sight I’d been missing for four dreadful years stepped into view. Her hair was shorter than I’d ever seen it, and her lipstick matched the soft shade of pink she was wearing. She walked down the aisle slowly, like she wanted to savor the moment.

When a bride walks down the aisle, most people, I’ve observed, stand and turn to watch the woman walk toward her soon-to-be husband. Some, however, turn to watch the groom to see if he cries, even just a little. But my eyes were on the maid of honor, who was clearly holding back her own tears as she took the bouquet so Sansa could hold Pod’s hands. It reminded me so much of that first moment I saw her, but these tears were entirely a different kind. She was happy. After all these years, I finally knew for certain. I couldn't help but grin to see it. And for a moment, the briefest moment, it looked almost as if she noticed me, but her face didn’t break for a single second. And before I could register it, the wedding was underway.

#arya x gendry #gendrya #ao3 fanfic #arya stark #modern au #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #gendry #gendry baratheon

[wotchernewt]

seriously though nothing can stop me from interpreting Real Life as canon just for how it progresses the canary curse situation. i'm obsessed with it. the curse gets broken in secret life and then in the very next "series", as much of a joke as it is, you get a situation like THAT. jimmy enters a mineshaft and everyone but him dies. not just his team, though obviously it's more significant because they were all red, but ren/martyn/skizz all get a mineshaft-death apiece. that canary's not doing his job anymore. he escaped his cage and made a break for the surface and everyone else is paying the price for it, and i for one could not be more proud of that little bird.

#that's not to say however that real life is on the same level of seriousity as all the other life games #the watchers grabbed all these players from the aftermath of the wildest party anyone's ever seen #the only ones not hungover were the ones drinking until dawn (now sleep deprived and plastered) #no one's going to have more than the vaguest memories of what the hell happened there #none of them sure if that was an actual Game or if some genius thought it would be a great idea to play-act one. while drunk. #the watchers know though. the watchers think it was funny. #wotcher talk #solidaritygaming #life series #life series smp #life smp #trafficblr #life series spoilers #real life #real life smp #rlsmp

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: missing you - it's back-to-school season in a wolfstar raising harry world

Wotcher Harry!

We were at your house last night, and I didn't even realise you'd already gone off to Hogwarts! How's your first day? You've got to tell me everything! Who did you talk to? Did you finally meet that cousin of mine? How's ol' Minnie doing? (You've got to "accidentally" call her that at least once) Did anyone fall into the lake? Holy Helga, I've so many questions, but I'm sure you've got more exciting things going on! Sorry to badger you with it all!

Your Moony and Padfoot are already both missing you like mad already, they're jumping up and down the house driving me and my mum insane. Poor Remus is on his fourth draft of an essay of a letter to you, and Sirius looks like he'll either send you a howler for nothing or a box of firecrackers— either way, heaps to look forward to. But they don't want to look clingy, so I'm stealing first letter privilege. Now, Harry— stop that groan, I know you're starting to think they're totally lame which they are but they just love you so much it's crazy. And think of how they were just thrown into this world when they were eleven. So you gotta pamper them a bit, yeah? Write home every week or two, and my dad got you this camera— send them a couple of pictures of you going around places in the castle they told you about— that'll drive them out of their minds!

Ah crabs. I've got to run, but you write me any time you want yeah?

Love love love, Tonks

#wolfstar #microfic #wolfstar microfic #tonks #tonks & harry #hc her being like a big sister to harry #sirius black #remus lupin #my writing

[violetthistle1]

The pink-haired figure broke out in a sprint towards Sirius and once they were close enough, they engulfed Sirius in a strong hug, nearly knocking him over. He laughed in surprise. Remus watched from the doorway as Sirius’s happiness overwhelmed him to the point his eyes welled with tears.

“Sirius!” Tonks said as they parted. Tonks seemed not to notice Sirius’s emotional response but instead began to talk excitedly to him. “It's so good to finally see you again!” 

Tonks turned to Remus in the doorway and walked over to offer him a hug in greeting as well. “Wotcher Remus!”

Remus chuckled as he gave them a swift hug. “My, how you’ve grown since we last met!” They were a petite 5’ 5’ in their combat boots. Remus had to bend over just to give them a proper hug. Tonks laughed in response to the gentle ribbing. 

“My how you’ve grayed since we last met!” They shot back. Remus smiled as he subconsciously ran his hand through his sandy brown and gray hair. 

****

Dignity be Damned, chapter 36: Redemption, excerpt (1)

Chapters 1-36 are available on Ao3 now!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50555698/chapters/133307677

#remus and tonks friendship for the win #tonks #tonks is nonbinary #wolfstar #remus lupin/sirius black #harry potter #found family #cannon divergence #learning to trust again #whump #chronic pain in fanfic #marauders #fanfic #andromeda tonks #charlie weasley #dignity be damned

[remus-poopin]

(Nymphadora) Tonks’ funky tunez

Mostly new wave, post punk, and no wave!

Track list:

1. Falling and Laughing - Orange Juice

2. Mind Your Own Business - Delta 5

3. Love → Building on Fire - Talking Heads

4. Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles

5. I Could Be Happy - Altered Images

6. Uncontrollable Urge - DEVO

7. Redondo Beach - Patti Smith

8. Jim on the Move - Lizzy Mercier Descloux

9. Don’t Work That Hard - Scritti Politti

10. Angst In My Pants - Sparks

+more!

Other playlists:

Bill Weasley, James Potter, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Fred and George Weasley, Sirius Black, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape

Cover art link + tumblr:

@upthehillart

#this is my best one in my humble opinion #but I’m mostly saying that because I love new wave #nymphadora tonks #tonks #nymphadora tonks playlist #Harry Potter #hp #hufflepuff #hufflepunk #character playlist #hp playlist #Spotify

[redandbrown]

Dating Games

(This is a prequel chapter to Truce. It started out as a stand alone fic, but it made more sense to tie it in with Truce.)

Hermione walked into Tranfiguration class and immediately spotted Ron sitting next to Harry. He seemed to sense her eyes on him because his gaze met hers. He glared at her, and she glared right back, not backing down in the least.

She turned left into the classroom and took a seat next to Neville.

“Wotcher, Hermione!” Neville greeted her brightly.

“Good morning, Neville.”

From this angle she was sitting slightly behind Ron and Harry, and she could watch them without drawing attention to herself. Ron’s sleeves were rolled up on his arms, and she could see the angry, red welps left by her canaries Saturday night. She smirked rather pleased with herself. She knew she should feel bad, but she didn’t care.

Ron could get under her skin like nobody else could, and this Lavender debacle, well, that really took the cake. Who did he think he was? Kissing that bimbo in front of the whole Gryffindor common room? In front of her? So all that banter between them these past couple months, his agreement to go to Slughorn’s party with her. She guessed none of that mattered when a pretty blonde walked up to him, and kissed him in front of everyone.

Hermione sighed, and tried to focus on McGonagall. Why did she have to fall for him anyway? Besides Harry, he was her best friend. Her life would just be so much easier if she could accept that he didn’t see her as an attractive girl. They could just be friends, and he would be free to date whoever he wanted.

Most of the day she had done a pretty good job of avoiding him. In Herbology, she sat with Harry because Lavender had insisted Ron sit with her and help her re-pot the snapping dragons they were assigned by Professor Sprout.

As much as she tried to ignore it, Lavender’s voice kept grating on her nerves. Why did she have to talk to Ron like he was some sort of man-baby? And why on earth did he put up with it?

“Thanks, Won-Won! You’re so helpful!”

“Oh noo! Did you spill some potting soil? That’s okay, Won-Won! I’ll help you!”

Hermione was getting a headache from rolling her eyes so much. If she had ever talked to Ron that way, he would have been miffed at her for days. But apparently he liked being treated that way by Lavender. Gross.

“What do you think, Hermione? Do we need more fertilizer?” Harry asked.

“Huh?” Hermione was so busy loathing Ron’s new love interest that she hadn’t been paying attention to what Harry was saying.

“The snapping dragons. Do you think they need more fertilizer?” Harry clarified.

Hermione looked down in the pot.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. If they get too much fertilizer, the book says they become soft hearted and lose some of their bite. Any potions made with them aren’t as effective.”

“Shite!”

Hermione heard Ron curse under his breath in that moment. He was holding his hand and examining his his index finger, which was currently bleeding from a nasty looking bite.

“Oh no Won-Won! Your dragon bit you!” Lavender cried.

Hermione looked over at Ron’s snapping dragon which had a bit of blood on its fangs and looked rather pleased with itself for being just a plant.

“Yeah Won-Won. Maybe you should go to the hospital wing before you bleed out,” spat Hermione.

Both Ron and Lavender glared at her. Hermione couldn’t care less. She turned her focus back to her work, and thankfully her stinging words seemed to have temporarily silenced the baby talk.

Days stretched into weeks and much to Hermione’s annoyance, Lavender wasn’t going anywhere. She tried her best to avoid the couple, and completely ignored Ron. Poor Harry was being treated like a child in the middle of a custody battle, splitting his time between his two best friends, and avoiding ever mentioning one in the other’s presence.

This had been the longest she had ever gone without talking to Ron. Well, at least since second year when she had been petrified by the basilisk. But she was unconscious then. This was different. She was awake and very aware of the whole ordeal. As angry and hurt as she was with Ron, the truth is, she missed him.

For Ron’s part, after his initial anger at her for attacking him with those birds had worn off, he had made a few feeble attempts to talk to Hermione. Always when Lavender wasn’t around. Hermione was having none of it.

It was clear to everybody, but Lavender that she was starting to get on his nerves. He would go out of his way to avoid her, often imploring Harry to take hidden passages with him to their next class, so Lavender wouldn’t spot him. Hermione was always within earshot of these conversations, trying hard to be invisible, resisting the urge to say something biting.

One day in Transfiguration, Ron had accidentally given himself a handlebar mustache. Apparently it was ok for everybody else to laugh at him, but he was only focused on her.

His cruel impression of her had left her in tears, and she ran out of the classroom as soon as they had been dismissed. She would show him!

She found Cormac in the common room.

“Hi Cormac!” She said brightly, giving him a huge smile.

Cormac turned to look at her. His eyes gave her body a once over before he smirked at her.

“You don’t know me, but I’m Hermione Granger.”

“I know who you are. You dated Victor Krum a couple years ago. I saw you two at the Yule Ball.”

Hermione giggled. “Yes, well that was a few years ago. Anyways, I was watching you at the tryouts, and personally I think you were robbed. You are one of the best quidditch players I’ve ever seen!”

Cormac turned to face her fully, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “See?! Even a swotty bird such as yourself knew I was robbed! I don’t know what Potter was thinking, putting Weasley on the team.”

Hermione bit back on her reflex to defend her friends and berate him for calling her a “swotty bird” and instead plastered another grin on her face.

“So I’m going to Professor Slughorn’s party this week. I’m sure you’ve had loads of invitations, but I was hoping you would go with me,” she said giving him her best doe eyes.

Cormac looked at her appraisingly again and gave her another smirk.

“Well, you’re in luck, Granger. I have had many offers, but I cancelled my other plans. She wasn’t really SlugClub material.”

Hermione fought the urge to sneer at him. She highly doubted Cormac had gotten an invitation on his own, or that anybody else had asked him, despite what he was implying.

“Great!” She said cheerfully. “I’ll meet you in the common room at 8.”

“See you, then,” he said dismissively as he turned back to the person he had been talking to.

Hermione couldn’t wait to get down to lunch and rub it in Ron’s face. If he wanted to date other people right under her nose, she could play that game too!

Hermione had relished the dazed look on Ron’s face as she told Parvati about her plans right in front of him.

‘See?’ She thought as she watched Ron staring at her. ‘I can get a boy to date me.’

The night of the party Hermione was growing inpatient waiting for Cormac to show up in the common room. He was twenty minutes late when he strolled downstairs.

“You clean up nice, Granger,” he said as he swaggered over. She noticed his eyes were glassy, and he reeked of fire whiskey.

“Thanks,” she said with a tight smile. “Shall we?”

At the party Cormac waffled from bragging about himself to anyone who would listen to trying to grope Hermione when he couldn’t get an audience.

She had had enough and told him as much. She had left him sputtering for words at the party and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. But she hadn’t gotten very far before a strong hand gripped her upper arm roughly and yanked her around.

Cormac was drunk and livid.

“Hold up, Granger. Where are you off to?” He shoved her against the wall, and pinned her wrists above her head.

“Cormac, let me go! You’re pissed, and I’m tired of your rudeness!”

She tried to wrench her wrists away but he tightened his grip until it was painful.

He dropped his weight on her and started sloppily kissing her neck.

“Cormac, let me go! You’re hurting me!” She felt her panic turning in to real fear as she realized he had no intention of stopping.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!”

She knew that voice. Cormac turned to see who was talking, and Hermione used the opportunity to wrench her hand free and grab her wand.

She hit him with a stinging jinx. When he backed away from her to grab his face, she ran.

There was Ron looking torn between killing McClaggen and following her. Hermione never stopped running.

She ducked into the nearest classroom hoping neither boy would come looking for her.

#ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #romione fanfic #ron and hermione fanfiction #ronald weasley #romione fanfiction #ron and hermione #hermione and ron

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Giving In

The last of the Tedromeda for a little while until I can finish some of the WIPs I have for them.

Their first time, non-explicit.

Read on AO3

The first time Andromeda Black kisses him, Ted is convinced that his Nan was right because heaven surely exists.

It’s been a few weeks since he found Andromeda in the beer garden at The White Lion, but they haven’t had the chance to talk about that night. He’s been on night shifts for a few weeks, meaning the most he’s seen of her is brief glimpses as they pass in the lobby.

He runs into Nora in line at the tea room one evening, who explains that Andromeda’s experiment for her Fellowship is at a crucial stage, and she barely leaves the lab, working long hours testing her potion, making changes and testing again.

But somehow she’s never there when he drops by.

He puts it down to bad timing and tries not to think over every tiny detail of that night. Tries not to wonder if he said something wrong, or did something wrong. Something that’s making her avoid him.

Luckily it’s been busy the last few weeks, in the lead-up to Christmas people get too drunk at the work Christmas do, or they try to put up their own decorations on the roof without safety spells, or chop down their own trees, resulting in a higher-than-normal accident rate. He’s been dashing from patient to patient all shift, just to keep on top of things.

It’s nearing midnight when he finally manages to get off the ward, the last of a group of lads who had drunk some nearly lethal eggnog finally discharged and sent home, and heads to the locker room.

Where he finds Andromeda sitting on the worn out couch that had probably been there for decades, eyes closed and breathing deeply, wearing a Muggle dress instead of her usual lavender Researcher robes.

‘Wotcher?’ He says softly, not sure if she is asleep or not, but her eyes fly open and when she spots him her face lights up instantly. She rises, crossing the room quickly to grab his arms.

‘It works!’ She’s bouncing on her toes, smiling up at him expectantly, but seeing his confused look she elaborates. ‘My potion! It’s reducing the symptoms of Fwooper’s Cough. It works!’ 

Her experiment, what she’s been working towards for months, the one thing that is the entire reason for her fellowship. 

‘Seriously?’

Andromeda nods, still bouncing on her toes, seemingly unable to keep still in her excitement. Ted gently squeezes her arm with a grin. ‘Congratulations.’ He says earnestly.

She’s looking up at him, her bright smile turning to something softer as she stills. ‘Thank you.’ 

They both fall quiet and Ted finds himself running his hand slowly down her arm, his eyes following the path it traces along her skin. Andromeda takes a step towards him, her head tilting back as she looks up at him. It would be so easy to lean down and capture her lips with his. He bends his head, his nose brushing against hers.

A sharp wail breaks through the silence, a patient alarm going off somewhere on the floor, and it’s enough to bring them back to reality. She steps back quickly and Ted clears his throat, closing his eyes as he turns to his locker. Stupid , he thinks to himself.

‘How about you buy me a drink to celebrate?’ 

He pauses in pulling his robes over his head and glances back over his shoulder at her. She’s the picture of innocence, but he gets the feeling that she’s up to something.

He turns back to his locker and pulls off his robes, leaving him in his jeans. ‘It’s after midnight on a Monday, every where's already called last drinks.’ He says over his shoulder.

‘Oh.’ He hears faintly from behind him as he pulls on a clean shirt.  ‘Well, couldn’t we go back to your place?’ 

Ted stops with his bag halfway out of his locker. His heart is pounding so loudly now that he is sure she can hear it across the room. His mind races with the possibilities, but he doesn't dare hope.

She stepped away.

‘We could.’ He says slowly, and when he turns she’s watching him with an infuriatingly unreadable expression. ‘If you want to.’

‘I want to.’ She says lightly, but it feels falsely casual and he feels like she’s getting exactly what she wants. It would just be nice if he knew what that was.

They head to the apparition point, and she chatters to him about the final changes she needed to make to get her potion to work and the next steps for her fellowship. Ted’s not a bad hand at potions, it’s a requirement to become a healer after all, but she’s on an entirely different level. Most of what she’s saying goes over his head, but he’s happy listening to her.

At the apparition point, she takes his arm, pressing closer than is necessarily required for side-along and once again he feels like this is all a part of a plan that he hasn’t been clued in on. He is surrounded by a floral scent, her perfume maybe, or her shampoo, and for the first time in a while has to concentrate hard on the three D’s. 

They land in the little laneway near his flat and Andromeda looks completely out of place as they step out into the rundown street. Ted’s sure she’s never stepped foot in East London before tonight and he resists the urge to apologise for it. He leads her into his building, locking the front door quietly behind them so they don’t wake Mrs Crankshaw, his downstairs neighbour. 

They head up the narrow staircase, and Andromeda is still watching him with that unreadable expression that is driving him mad while he unlocks the door to his flat, opening it up and standing aside so she can enter first.

As he follows her in, a wave of his wand lights the small lamp on his bedside table and he sets his bag down by the door, locking it behind him. He watches her as she takes in his small, one-room flat. The lumpy sofa he found on the street and bribed his mates with beer to help him carry it upstairs, the tiny dining table with one chair shoved into the corner next to the kitchenette. The only other door which leads to the bathroom next to his bed that’s pushed up under the window.

He looks away quickly, clearing his throat and trying not to remember every fantasy he has had about her in his flat. Her short skirt isn’t helping, but his Mum and his Nan raised him to be a gentleman.

Instead, he moves to the kitchenette, pulling out two glasses. ‘I’ve only got Scotch.’ He says. His back is to her, but he feels her turn towards him. He can feel her watching him.

‘That’s fine.’ 

He pours the drinks and hands one to her. She accepts it with a small smile, clinking her glass against his.

They drink in silence, watching each other carefully. Eventually, it’s too much and he breaks the silence with the question that’s been on his mind since he found her in the locker room.

‘Aren’t your folks wondering where you are?’

A dangerous gleam fills her eyes, one that matches the Cheshire grin on her face. ‘I told them I’d be working all night.’ That too-casual lilt is back in her voice, but this time it has an edge to it, one he thinks he should be wary of.

Ted watches as she contemplates the Scotch, swirling the glass elegantly. ‘Andromeda.’ He says, his voice low. ‘What are you doing?’

She laughs softly to herself before she looks back up at him. She holds his gaze, dark eyes pinning him in place. ‘Breaking the rules.’ 

Her eyes stay on him as she brings the glass to her lips, her neck tilting back elegantly as she swallows the last of the drink and his fingers itch with the sudden urge to reach for her, to press his lips to her neck, to find out if her skin tastes as glorious as it does in his dreams.

Instead, he downs the rest of his own drink and takes her glass, careful not to brush his fingers against hers, the fragile tension in the room feels like it will break with the smallest touch and he doesn’t know what will happen if it does. He leaves the glasses on the kitchenette and retreats to the arm of the sofa, leaning against it to try and put some distance between them.

She stays infuriatingly still, watching him the entire time. It feels like the air is shimmering between them, waiting for a spark to light them both In the dim light, he sees her eyes flick to the bed behind him. He doesn’t dare turn and follow her gaze, he feels frozen, waiting for her to decide what will happen.

He knows he will do whatever she asks.

Her gaze drags back to him, and after a moment, she closes the small distance between them, moving slowly, purposefully, hypnotising him with each step. Ted’s heart pounds loudly again as she reaches out, resting her hand lightly against his neck. His breath is heavy as he drags his eyes up to meet hers, only to find her looking at his lips. 

‘Can I kiss you?’ 

He nods.

Finally, after more than a year of wanting this, of dreaming about this, her lips descend on his.

The first kiss is gentle. A barely-there brush of her lips against his. But even with this first, soft taste, he knows it will never be enough. 

He opens his mouth under hers, deepening the kiss as he stands, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him, relishing in her soft curves as they press against him. She gasps softly against his mouth and it drives him wild. Every sound he draws from her somehow makes him want her more, which he didn’t think was possible.

He drags his fingers down her back, the fabric of her dress giving way to the smooth skin of her thigh. Moving his hand up and under the skirt of her dress, he easily finds the perfect curve of her arse, his fingertips brushing lace. 

But Andromeda pulls back, panting as she breaks their kiss. His eyes are half closed and his lips follow hers instinctively, but before they find hers again, she speaks. ‘I don’t…I’ve never.’ She takes a breath and won’t quite meet his eye. ‘I haven’t done this before.’

It takes a moment for what she’s saying to break through the fog that’s clouding his mind, a long moment where all Ted can do is blink at her, but as soon as he realises what she means, he steps back, hands clenching at his side as they leave her body. ‘It’s ok,’ he tells, ‘We can stop.’

He won’t push her. Christ, this night has already been more than he had ever dared hope for. He opens his mouth to reassure her, but she’s shaking her head, reaching for him, stepping back into his arms and pressing her body against his. ‘I want this. Just…show me what to do.’

So he shows her.

It’s better than anything he ever dared dream.

Afterwards, when they’re curled together, still breathing heavily and Ted can’t quite believe what’s just happened, Andromeda looks up from where her head is resting on his chest.

‘Was it good for you too?’ She asks quietly.

He shoots her a disbelieving look, a shocked laugh bubbling from his throat. ‘I can definitely say it was.’ She grins again and he gently rolls her onto her back. ‘Stay here a moment.’ He tells her, hopping up to duck into the bathroom, he washes up quickly before grabbing a washcloth and running it under warm water.

Back in bed, he gently cleans her skin, making her blush. ‘Ted, you don’t have to.’ She protests, reaching for the washcloth.

But he smirks at her. ‘I always clean up my messes, sweetheart.’ He jokes, dropping a kiss to the clean skin of her thigh as she giggles.

Throwing the washcloth through the open bathroom door, he crawls back up her body, kissing her softly before laying beside her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her into his chest.

It’s just when he’s beginning to drift off that she speaks. ‘I should go.’ She says softly.

‘No.’ He says selfishly, tightening his hold on her, wanting to keep her with him.

But she’s already untangling herself from his arms, dragging the sheet with her to keep herself covered as she slides out of bed. Spotting her bra and pants she collects them from the floor. ‘I need to get home.’ 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he watches as she pulls a pair of robes out of her bag. ‘Mirror?’ She asks, and he points her to the bathroom.

He climbs out of bed, finding his own discarded pants and pulling them on. When she comes out of the bathroom she’s dressed in the robes and her hair is pinned perfectly. She looks every part the perfect Pureblood daughter.

Ted hates it.

‘Are you sure you have to go?’ She gives him a sad smile, and steps close to him, one hand pressing against his bare chest as she stands on her toes to kiss him. It feels like a goodbye.

‘Thank you.’ She says, and he hates the finality of it. 

With a wave of her wand, Andromeda’s dress flies from where it lay, rumpled on the floor, neatly folding itself into her purse. Realising she’s about to leave, Ted picks up his jeans. ‘I’ll walk you to the laneway.’

‘I’ll be fine.’ She says.

‘It’s a rough part of London…’ He starts, but she holds her wand up pointedly.

‘I’ll be fine, Ted.’ She says firmly. He nods dumbly. He wants to ask her to let him know when she gets home safe, but he doesn’t have a fireplace and by the time an owl gets here he’ll be seeing her at work.

‘Be safe.’ He says, feeling a bit hopeless as he follows her to the door. She throws him a sweet smile.

And then she’s gone, leaving Ted to lock the door behind her and turn to his flat.

It’s never felt so empty before.

#tedromeda fic #ted x andromeda #ted tonks #andromeda black #my writing #hp fanfic #harry potter fic