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vivianweasley · 3 years

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Reason Why I Hate You (Fred Weasley X Reader)

Summary: You hated Fred Weasley, but you just didn’t know why. Maybe it was because there was some unfinished business between you two from a past life? past life au and a bit of enemies to lovers.

Prompt: this is for @slytherinsunrise‘s writing challenge and the prompt is Historical AU! Hope you guys would like it:)

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Fem!Reader

Warnings: murder, major character death, arranged marriage, terrible husband, reader’s family in past life is pureblood supremacist, sound of explosion (firework), angst in the past life, fluff in this life

Word Count: 2.2k

Special thanks to @valwritesx for giving me wonderful advices<3

Disclaimer: all the pictures in the moodboard are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

It all began on an early autumn afternoon.

1815, an afternoon in September, Frederick Weasley just threw a water ball on his potions professor, and he was now hiding in a broom closet, waiting for his angry professor to go away.

But he heard footsteps approaching the door. Just when Fred was sure that detention is waiting for him, he saw a girl at the door.

“What are you doing-” before you could even finish your question, Fred pulled you into the broom closet, closed the door, and covered your mouth with his hand.

The space inside the broom closet was so limited that your bodies were pressed together now. You felt your face heating up, and your heart was racing. You should be furious. You should scold the man in front of you for being rude or even slap him for that, but you were just standing there stiffly, with your eyes wide opened.

There was another series of footsteps approaching the broom closet now, and you heard the potion professor yelling, “You’re dead if I catch you! Ten points from Gryffindor!”

After the sound of footsteps faded, Fred finally let go of you. You finally got the chance to step on his foot, causing him to jump in pain.

“I probably deserved that.” His hands were still rubbing his foot, but he didn’t forget to joke, “So, tell me, what brings you to the broom closet?”

You glared at him, “I was looking for my cat.”

He nodded, “I’m guessing that you are curious about what brings me here, to this broom closet, to meet with you.”

“Oh, I already know. You just threw a water ball on the potions professor, and now you are on the run.”

His face suddenly lit up, “So you just saw my work?”

“Who doesn’t know about Frederick Weas-”

“It’s Fred.”

You glared at him and continued, “Who doesn’t know about Frederick Weasley’s shenanigans.”

“So you already know my name!” He smiled, couldn’t hide the pride on his face, “May I have the honor to know yours?”

You rolled your eyes, “Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

He bowed a little and pretended to tip his imaginary hat, “Y/F/N Y/L/N, my pleasure.”

This man was frivolous, reckless, and didn’t respect any rules. You had all the reasons to hate him, but why was your heart beating so fast? You sighed, as you could already foresee a future that’s out of your control, “My displeasure.”

Like many romance novels from that period, the girl with a strict upbringing fell in love with the infamous troublemaker. You and Fred were very different people. You were like different sides of a coin, but this couldn’t affect the attraction between you two. Once the spark between you was ignited, there was no turning back. It was as if fate was pulling you together.

You decided to get married after graduating from Hogwarts, but your family forbade this marriage.

They said the Weasleys were blood traitors, and Frederick Weasley was nothing but an ignorant boy of ill-breeding. Your pureblood supremacist family could never give you their blessings. In fact, they already betrothed you to the youngest son of the Burkes, Ralph Burke.

You’ve met Ralph a few times. Not only did he believe in pureblood supremacy, but he also believed that women should do nothing but stay home and be a good wife.

Fred’s situation wasn’t too good as well. His family hated your family, and they wanted their son to marry the Johnson girl.

You and Fred met under a sycamore tree. He sounded desperate, “Let’s run away! Let’s run to a place where no one knows us. France, America, anywhere but here!”

You nodded. You didn’t want to care about how eloping would ruin your and your family’s reputation. These ridiculous rules controlled you all your life; it was time for you to finally do something reckless, something for yourself.

He let out a sigh of relief and held you tightly, “Three days later, I’ll wait for you under this sycamore tree at night. We will get married the next morning!”

After the longest three days in your life, you tiptoed around the house to make sure that everyone was asleep, and you started running as soon as you left the house. You only brought a small bag of galleons to help you survive the first few days and left everything else behind.

You wanted nothing from your past. All you wanted was to start a new life that is carefree and full of choices you could make on your own. A life that you could spend with someone you love.

But when you reached the sycamore tree, the person waiting for you wasn’t Fred, but Ralph.

Ralph’s face was emotionless when he told you that Fred already left the town two days ago because he was afraid. He was afraid of being tied down by you and being forced into another marriage by his family, so he ran away on his own.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew Fred loved freedom, but he was never someone who would break a promise.

Ralph took you to the Weasleys, and Mrs. Weasley’s reaction confirmed everything as she yelled, “Where is my sweet Frederick? What did you do to him??”

So it was true. He ran away, without you.

You felt lifeless as you collapsed. You couldn’t understand it. If he was so afraid of the restrictions that marriage brings, why would he even suggest eloping with you?

You felt deceived and betrayed. Anger and sorrow were clouding your reasons. You were willing to sacrifice everything for him. Your reputation, your family, the life you had, everything. But he still ran away without you. He left you behind.

You felt like a joke.

You felt hopeless.

Three months later, after still not hearing anything from Fred, you gave in to your family’s expectations and agreed to Ralph’s proposal.

You were locked up in the Burke Manor after becoming Ralph’s bride. Misery and resentment were the only things that kept you company in this cold cage that was shaped like a luxurious manor.

Finally, after two years of living in this agony, you closed your eyes forever.

You left this world still resenting Fred. You left without knowing that two years ago under that sycamore tree, he closed his eyes before you.

That night when you and Fred met at the tree for the last time, Ralph was there, too. After hearing that his fiancee was planning to run away with another man, a blood traitor, he couldn’t stand the humiliation. He confronted Fred, but Fred didn’t seem to care at all. Merlin, Ralph hated that smug smile of Fred.

Rage took over him, and he raised his wand at Fred. It was a simple death curse. Ralph took care of the crime scene calmly and returned home, pretending like nothing ever happened.

And just like that, Fred disappeared. No one knew the truth. No one knew that until his last breath, he was still holding a wedding ring. The world only knew a coward called Frederick Weasley, who ran away on his own after promising forever to a poor girl.

~~~

September 1991, you were admitted to Hogwarts along with the famous Harry Potter. You soon became friends with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And naturally, you also became friends with the other Weasley kids, except for one, Fred Weasley.

You were even great friends with George, but there was something about him that warned you to stay away from him.

Fred was hurt, but he wasn’t too worried because he knew for sure that he could find a way to make you like him.

1995. You were having lunch with your friends at the Great Hall. It was a perfectly normal day until you saw a spark floating in front of you. And before you realized what it was, something exploded on top of your head. For a moment, you thought your heart was jumping out of your chest.

You looked up and saw fireworks exploding across the Great Hall and spelling out “Y/N Happy Birthday.” You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly who would come up with something dramatic like this.

You also heard some people gasping and saying that they were jealous. But you weren’t happy with it at all. It not only almost scared your soul out of your body, but also made you feel embarrassed.

You stood up and tried to run away, but you heard Snape’s voice, “Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Weasley, this is not a carnival. Detention.”

“Professor, it was all me. She has nothing to do with it!” Great, at least he’s not only a stupid git, but a chivalrous stupid git.

“Good. Ten more points from Gryffindor.”

The Gryffindor table soon started groaning, and you sighed. What kind of birthday gift is this?

After class, you and Fred were sent to the divination classroom to wipe all the crystal balls. You were sent here because Snape didn’t want to risk having Fred breaking all of his precious potion bottles. As of Trelawney’s crystal balls? Snape couldn’t care less.

Looking at the classroom that was filled with crystal balls, you sighed. What did you do to deserve this bloody simpleton in your life?

“Y/N, I’m sorry...” You could hear the guilt in his voice.

But you still replied bitterly, “Forget it. It was nothing. Who cares about spending birthday at Hogsmeade anyway, right?” You knew you shouldn’t be so passive-aggressive, but you just couldn’t put away the hostility towards him.

But Fred couldn’t take it anymore, “Why do you hate me so much? If it was something I did, I apologize. But you hated me from the very beginning. What the bloody hell did I do?”

“I-” You rolled your eyes. Isn’t it clear enough? You hated him because...Then it struck you. You didn’t know how to answer his question. Yes, you could say you hated him because he was reckless and pompous, but was this the real reason why you hated him?

“I-I don’t know.” You lowered your head, feeling both defeated and confused.

“Then could you at least try not to hate me that much?”

Guilt started rising in your stomach, but you didn’t want to admit your defeat, “Why do you care? There are so many others who love you.”

“I care because I fancy you!”

You were still dumbfounded and not sure how to react, but you heard a cough behind you. You and Fred turned together and saw Trelawney.

Except now, her eyes were rolled back, and she started speaking in a hoarse, guttural voice, “180 years later, the star-crossed lovers meet again...One with regret... and one with resentment...On this fateful day...destiny ties them back together once again...”

And then she coughed again and returned to her usual self, “Oh, that was embarrassing. What was I doing here again..Oh right! You two can leave now. I don’t need cleaning here.”

“But Professor Trelawney, Professor Snape said...”

“Oh don’t worry dear, I already told him. You two are good to go!” Trelawney thought back on how scared she was when Snape told her that Fred Weasley was cleaning her classroom. She came here as fast as she could and was relieved when she saw all the crystal balls were still intact.

“Do you think Trelawney was talking about us?” Fred asked after you two left the classroom.

“When did you start to believe in that?” You sounded nonchalant, but deep down, you always believed that Trelawney was actually excellent at divination, so you started panicking after hearing that oracle.

Fred ignored your question, “What did she say? One with resentment? That sounds like you.”

“And you’re the one with regret? Do you even know what regret feels like?”

“Yea! I regret that I did make a great impression. I regret that...I didn’t make you fancy me like I fancy you!”

“You are hopeless, Frederick Weasley. Stop saying that if you don’t mean it!” You were angry. Does he even know that he shouldn’t say something like that? What if people took it seriously? But knowing how frivolous he was, he probably said that to everyone. So why were you still blushing? The more you thought about it, the angrier you got, so you decided to walk faster to get rid of him.

But Fred kept up and stopped you, “But I’m serious. I mean it.”

He looked so sincere when his warm brown eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. You stuttered, “F-fine...then I guess I...don’t hate you either...”

“Great! That’s some progress!” He grinned, “You know, if we start running now, we might still have time to go to Hogsmeade.”

You raised your eyebrows and he continued, “If I could make up for your birthday, would you go on a date with me?”

“I... could consider that.” Your face was heating up, but you started walking faster again so he won’t see how flustered you were.

But of course, he kept up again. “Why are you always calling me Frederick?”

“I don’t know. It just appeared in my head. Plus, I feel like you hate it.”

“I do. It sounds sad.”

“Who knows, maybe it’s your name in your past life,” you joked.

“Then I’m pretty sure I hated it in my past life, too,” he shrugged, “Whatever, this life is all that matters now.”

You didn’t reply as you looked at him. He was smiling at you, and at this moment, you knew your future was going to change, in a good way this time.

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wicked-hg · 3 years

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Empire || o.w.

This is a part of @iliveiloveiwrite song fic challenge.

Oliver Wood x reader

Song prompt: Empire by Elle Henderson

Summary: Oliver has an interview with a quidditch reporter who wants to know more about the “quidditch empire” he has built. Oliver reflects on the life he has built with Y/N.

WC: 3.9k

A/N: I am so excited to finally post this! I’ve been working on it for a while and it went longer than I thought it would, but that’s okay. I hope you all enjoy it. Please please please check out the song! I tried to keep it in mind writing this, but overall it is just a fantastic song and one of my favorites. I found the below image when looking for an Oliver Wood gif, and this was so cute!!!! Plus it goes with the story. Italics are the interview.

“Mr. Wood, thank you for sitting down with us,” the reporter greeted. “I know many people are dying to know more about you and your growing quidditch empire.”

“Empire?” Oliver chuckled. “I wouldn’t call what I ‘ave an empire.”

“What would you call it then? You are a renowned quidditch player and now a coach for Puddlemere United. Your wife was a former strategist for the Pride of Portree and is the granddaughter of Kennilworthy Wisp and Devlin Whitehorn. You also have seven children. If that isn’t a quidditch empire, then what is it.”

“Me family,” Oliver answered. “Aye, me wife comes from two great lineages and aye quidditch did bring us together, but I love her for so much more than that. Quidditch was only an excuse to talk to her. It isn’t our relationship.”

-----------------------------

You had friends at Hogwarts. There were people who enjoyed your company. They were always there to talk quidditch to you, but that was about it. Once you tried switching the subject they suddenly had to go work on homework that had already been turned in. You knew though captains of quidditch teams didn’t lie that they wanted to be your friend. They were straightforward that they wanted your analysis of their team, and the other teams, and what strategies they should use to be successful. Each one came on the same day at the same time like clockwork. Today was Wednesday. That meant Oliver Wood would find her around 6:55. Oliver was the one captain who would seek you out no matter where you were in the castle. You had to always be in the same place for the others.

The clock chimed 7:00 when Oliver found you today. “You’re five minutes later than normal, Wood,” you commented.

Oliver shrugged as he sat next to you. “I knew you’d be here, but I wasn’t sure how loud it would be,” Today’s spot was the clock tower. “So I wanted to wait until after the clock rang.”

You sat in silence. Usually you jumped quickly into the quidditch talk, but Oliver sat silently. “You alright, Wood? You’re quiet today. You play Hufflepuff next week if I recall. I wouldn’t really worry about them. They’ve had a devastating losing streak so far. Their beaters aren’t doing well. They’ve been on injury rotation. Fleet also doesn’t have your skills.”

Oliver smiled. “Me skills? You notice I’m quite skilled, Y/N?”

You tried to keep yourself from blushing. Something was different about how he said this. “Of course I do, Wood. I’m Hogwarts residential quidditch analyst.”

“Oliver,” he said. You glanced at him, confused. “Call me Oliver. Not Wood.”

You nodded. “Okay then...Oliver.” Silence washed back over the two of you. “Do you have any other questions? Or do you want info about the new Nimbus? The rest have wanted that.”

Oliver shook his head. “Why don’t you play? Every house goes to you for advice, yet you don’t even play for your own. Why is that?”

No one had ever asked you that. In fact, no one had ever asked any questions about you yourself. “I used to when I was younger with my siblings. I have six older ones.”

“Me too,” Oliver said. “Poppy, Daisy, Juniper, Ivy, Violet, and Flora. They thought I was gon’ be a girl. When it turned out I was a boy, I was named Oliver instead of Olive. That way all they had to do was add an ‘r’ to everything. Sorry for interrupting you. The Weasleys are the only other ones I know with a family of seven siblings.”

You smiled. “It’s alright. Sounds like your family went for a theme.” Oliver nodded. “I think that’s cool. My parents didn’t. I’m the youngest. I have four brothers—Dorian, Finnigan, Simon, and Leon—and two sisters—Evangeline and Benjamina.”

“So you played quidditch with them. Why not anymore?”

“I got hit in the head with a bludger,” you told him. I know that happens a lot to players, but I was about five. Gramps and PopPop were fighting again. They don’t get along at all, and my parents were out celebrating their anniversary. I don’t know why they had those two watching us instead of just picking one. Granny and Nan were trying to calm them down. We were playing quidditch on PopPop’s prototype of the Nimbus 1650.”

“Nimbus 1650? I’ve never heard of that one.”

“That’s because it was never released to the public. It had too many flaws. Anyway, I played seeker. It’s how I learned to analyze patterns besides listening to Gramps. The bludger hit me upside the head and as I fell it hit me again in the jaw. Honestly though, it felt like two hits to the head because my head was the size of a bludger back then. I couldn’t get on a broom after that. I tried. I tried so many times. I just was never able to fly. The brooms wouldn’t listen. Besides, the healer says one more bludger to the head will kill me.”

“We can’t have that then. I’ll get ya on a broom, but I’m not letting ya anywhere near a bludger.” You grinned at his comment. “You belong in the air though. Every time I find you, you're usually high up. The wind will be blowing through your hair soon enough. I promise.”

“You can’t make promises like that, Oliver.”

Oliver shushed you. “Tomorrow. We start tomorrow at this time on the pitch. You’re not meant to be caged, Y/N. Let me help you fly free.”

“What makes you think that you will be the one to do so?” You asked him, trying not to gain any hope from Oliver’s promise. Your family had done everything they could. How could Oliver be successful?

He smiled and grabbed your hand. “I won’t let you fall. I’ll catch you. Do you trust me?”

There was a fire in his eyes now. He had hope he could do this, and you did too. “Absolutely.”

—————

“And what about having seven children? A quidditch team is made up of seven players. One could assume you are breeding your own quidditch team.”

“Well, one can assume all they want. The truth is, life just happened this way. Y/N and I both came from large families; both of us are the youngest of seven. We were fine having that many kids. Just know though there aren’t any more Wood children coming,” Oliver grinned. “And don’t believe that rumor that all of our kids are named after types of wood unknowingly or fun. It was the result of losing a series of bets.”

“What?”

The reporter paused in thought. “Oh my Merlin. Your children are all named after types of wood. You did that on purpose? Because of bets?”

Oliver blinked. “No…”

“But you just said—” Oliver stared at the reporter, daring him to continue. “So when did people pick up on it?”

—————

He was so small. Granted, Rowan and Willow had been too. Perhaps he was bigger than them though. He was definitely louder. “He’s got quite the lungs to him,” you murmured to Oliver as you handed him your new son. “Rowan and Willow were quiet and pensive. He’s loud and ready to fight. Has been since the womb. Hopefully the bruises will go away now.”

This third babe had been a handful—constantly moving and kicking the bruises actually began to appear on your abdomen. “Reckon he’ll be a beater if he plays some day,” You chuckled in agreement with your husband. “Hello there, Al. Glad you’re finally here. Your brother and sister are so excited to meet you.”

“Al,” you sighed lovingly, “I like it. Al Wood. Is it short for anything?”

“Alder.”

“Alder. That’s nice,” Silence washed over the room until your eyes flew open. “Alder? Did you just say Alder? As in the tree? Oliver, is our son named Alder Wood?”

“Yes…”

“Rowan and Willow are going to ma—” Realization hit you. “Rowan and Willow. Rowan Wood. Willow Wood. Oliver Wood, are our children named after types of trees? Have you named our children after types of trees when I am in a state of fatigue after birthing them?”

“Yes and no,” he replied. He carefully held the newborn close to his chest. “All of these names I suggested to you when we discussed it, and you liked them. I just suggested them in a different light. Rowan is a good Scottish name, and Willow is an old English name and a well respected magical tree. Alder...I don’t think I ever did mention Alder to you. I was hoping to get away with that one.”

You reached for your son. Looking down at him, you couldn’t imagine him being named anything else. “I can’t imagine him being anything else now. If we have more children, we will discuss this first. I just didn’t realize you so desperately wanted a theme. I thought you hated the name theming after your parents have done it to you and your sisters.”

“I do!” Oliver argued.

“Then why name our children after types of wood and trees?”

Oliver sighed. He knew there was no lying to you anymore. “I lost a bet back in Hogwarts to Weasley.”

You sighed. “I’m gonna yell at George when I get out of here. I can’t imagine our children being named anything different now, but still. I don’t care if it was his or Fred’s fault.”

“Actually it was Percy.”

—————

“You were married right before hell broke loose in the Second Great Wizarding War, and if I recall you even participated in it.”

“Aye. I did. Many witches and wizards in the league did once it got shut down in ‘97.”“Did this affect you and your wife?”

“Of course it did. It affected everyone. Plus we were still young and so was Rowan.”

“Rowan?”

“Me eldest boy. How did you not know that? I would’ve thought you’d know the names of me kids the way you’ve been going on.”

The reporter shrugged as he jotted this all down in his notebook.

——————

Oliver had done what he could to help the light in the war, but his priority was his family. He had a wife and a son now. His wife was also expecting their second child. He laid down next to his wife. “Rowan’s fast asleep,” he whispered. “He went down quickly tonight.”

You smiled as you snuggled into him. “She’s being quiet tonight too.”

He smiled and glanced down at your protruding belly. “How do you know it’s a she?”

“I just do,” You were quiet for a moment before asking, “Oliver, do you ever regret how we did things?”

Everything was on track for you and Oliver when you graduated. You had both taken big jobs in the world of quidditch. You were young and everyone knew your names. Then in the late spring of 1995 you found out a baby was on the way. Rowan was born that December. A year and a half later you two finally got married in the early summer of 1997. Now in May of 1998 you were almost 8 months pregnant with the second baby Wood.

“I will never ever regret us or our kids,” he told you. “This is I guess just how it was meant to be. Do I wish that the world was safer for them? Absolutely. I wish we would’ve had more time to fight to give them a better world. I will do anything to make sure they don’t live under these conditions. I hope every day that Rowan doesn’t remember living in a time of such fear and chaos.”

“I am terrified, Olli,” you admitted.

“Me too,” he agreed, “But I will always be here to protect you. No one will destroy what we have created.”

Hours later he was summoned to Hogwarts for one last battle. You waited for him to return. When Rowan woke, you acted as if everything was normal. “Daddy just had to go take care of some business,” you told Rowan when he asked about Oliver. An owl from St Mungo’s arrived close to bedtime. You flooed your mother to stay with your son as you rush to the hospital. Oliver, with his confunded eye, grinned at you. He had a gash on his forehead and was covered in dirt, yet he smiled because they had won.

——————

“So did helping in the war aid your career at all?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“I just didn’t know if it helped your skills.”

“My skills are and were fine both prior and after the war.”

—————

“Sweetheart, I think you need to get your sight checked out,” You told Oliver one morning before he headed off to practice. “You’re missing more shots on your right, even though you’re right handed. People are starting to pick up on that.”

“I still catch the quaffle,” Oliver muttered. “That’s what matters.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t. I’m just saying your reaction time is slower and more have been slipping through. You know, as an analyst for an opposing team I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

Oliver sighed. “That’s the eye.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh. I forgot it was the right one. I thought you got it healed?”

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Oliver had taken a confundus charm to the eye. For a while his eye was completely confounded and unable to focus. Eventually the healers were able to resituate it back to normal; however, Oliver’s vision had not quite yet returned back to normal.

“It can still get a bit blurry and spinny.”

“You need to talk to the coaches, Oliver. That can be a danger for you,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I know you will overcome this and learn to play with it, but I need you safe. You have a family to come home to.”

Oliver nodded and hugged you. “I promise, leannan. I promise.”

—————

“Was there ever tension or conflict when you played the Pride?”

Oliver shrugged. “Y/N and I had a deal. We would note interfere between Puddlemere and the Pride of Portree. Teams have multiple strategists, and while, aye, she was their main one there were others to take care of handling strategies against Puddlemere. As for me, in my entire career, I never played a game against them—even after she retired and took over the broom business. The main keeper during my early years and reserve in my later years always played.”

“Seriously? Not even after she retired? You could’ve. It would’ve just furthered your career.”

“Perhaps, but I also knew that if I did it would make me wife choose between her husband and the team she grew to love. I couldn’t do that to her. Plus it kept me in shape.”

————

You saw Oliver walk down the stairs carrying your newborn girls and Al clinging to his back. “I thought you had a game today,” you asked as he set Al down and tried to put Holly and Hazel into the highchairs. Rowan and Willow followed behind them.

“”Play quidditch, daddy?” Willow asked. “We go watch a game?”

“Puddlemere plays Portree today. I never play against them.” Oliver sat down and started to feed the twins breakfast.

“But, Oliver,” you said confused, “That was when I worked for them. I don’t work for them anymore. You can play if you want to.”

He shook his head. “Today is for us.”

“Us? Like you and mum or the whole family?” Rowan asked.“

The whole family,” Oliver answered. “I’ve gone this long not playing Portree. No reason to start now. Besides, the team means so much to you, Y/N. I can’t put you between them and me. It’ll be a good day for us all to hang out too. Be a proper family.”

You smiled as you set the rest of breakfast in front of your children and helped Al get his food while WIllow and Rowan snatched theirs up. “That actually sounds amazing. Thank you, Oliver. Anything in mind for us to do today?”

“Perhaps the beach? The sun is out for once.”

“You just want to even out your tan line,” Rowan chuckled. Oliver glared at his son, knowing he was absolutely correct.

————

“You could’ve had another few years to your career. Why did you retire? Your retirement came before your predecessor’s exit.”

Oliver thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell the whole truth. “I was a father to six. I had just found out Reed was going to be born—“

“Is Reed your sixth kid?”

“No he’s the seventh and final.”

“Can you tell me who all your kids are. I’m getting them confused.”

Oliver huffed. “In order there is: Rowan, Willow, Alder, we call him Al, the twins, Holly and Hazel, followed by Ash, and ending with Reed.”

“One more time.”

Oliver sighed. He couldn’t take much more of this. “Rowan, Willow, Alder, Holly, Hazel, Ash, and Reed.”

The reporter finished writing those down. “Got it.”

“As I was saying, I had just found out my youngest child was on the way and I had also found out some other news.”

————

“Pregnant?”

You nodded. “I know we hadn’t planned this. It’s kid number seven,” You sat down next to him. “Oh Merlin, it’ll be our seventh child. We’re going to have a full team, Oliver. Al starts Hogwarts next year. Willow is starting her second year this year. Rowan takes his OWLS this year! The twins just started nursery school. Ash is finally no longer scared of the loo.”

“I’m going to retire,” Oliver said suddenly.

“What?” you gasped. “Oliver, darling, you don’t need to do that. Dorian and I run PopPop’s business just fine. You don’t need to give up your career. We support you. I support you.”

Oliver kissed your cheek and rested his hand against your stomach. “I’m almost 40, Y/N. I’ve been missing goals at practice for a while. Coach sent me to a healer during practice. There’s no more quidditch for me. Too many bludgers to the head. We make quite the pair. They found that part of my brain is swollen. I have to have treatment for a few more weeks and I’ll be good as new.”

You threw your arms around him and held him close. “Oh Oliver. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to act differently in front of the kids. I found out all the details today though. I’m telling Coach tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you have to do this, Oliver.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’m getting old anyway. This was going to happen eventually. I missed parts of my kids' lives because of quidditch. No more of that.”

“They’ll be heartbroken, you know.”

Oliver nodded. “What about you?”

“I just want you safe and happy. I will always support your choice. I can’t lose you, Oliver. You’re silly to think I’d ever let you near a bludger again now.”

Oliver chuckled remembering his promise to you all those years ago. “Poor Al. No more bludgers for the Woods. We’re gonna need to find a place to send him.”

“I ran into an old classmate of ours. She’s married to Marcus Fli—”

“I’m not sending me son to play with a bludger at Marcus Flint’s place! I’d rather take him to Weasley!”

————

Oliver watched the reporter go with a smile on his face. That was the last one. He couldn’t handle continuously doing those. His agent was right; he just needed to write a damn book.

“Is the reporter done?”

Oliver turned and his smile became a grin as he kissed you. “Aye. Thank Merlin too. That was an imbecile. I’m gonna have to write that book so I don’t have to deal with any more of them.”

You grinned and hugged him. “I told you so. Come on now, sweetheart. They’re all waiting for you.”

“Can you believe Al is off to Hogwarts tomorrow?”

You shook your head as you snuggled into him. “That leaves us with four though. We’re not quite at an empty nest, Oliver.”

“I know. It’s just,” Oliver paused. “As I answered questions I just thought back to different moments in our life. Did you ever think we’d get here? That we’d build this...this...this empire of ours?”

You smiled. “I always hoped. I couldn’t imagine living my life with anyone else. Though our life is full of quidditch, in so, so many ways, you still made sure it was about so much more than that. Now come Oliver. Our little empire is ready to eat dinner.”

————---------

“Are we almost there?” You asked Oliver. “I feel like we’ve been walking forever. Why couldn’t we have just apparated?”

Oliver chuckled as he gripped your hand tighter to make sure he didn’t lose you as you climbed higher on the hill. “That would ruin the magic of it all, leannan.”

“Can you give me any clues, Oliver? Besides the fact it must be a decent spot for a picnic,” You glanced down at the picnic basket in your hand. When Oliver had invited you to his home, you were excited. Never before had you been to his family home in the highlands. You had met his family at his sisters’ homes. “You know the only thing I know about the highlands is that you are from here, and you don’t even live here anymore!”

“We’re almost there anyway,” he answered. “This is a place me dad took me mum when they were like us. When I told them about you, he brought me in case you were my gu bràth. We’re in the midst of Loch Katrine. It can be a popular place for muggle photographers to come take photos but they’re quite intimidated by this mountain, thanks to magic.”

Oliver helped you climb up a few more meters. You saw the giant grin on his face. This must be someplace special. He was just as excited as if they were about to jump right into a game of quidditch. You set the basket down and felt his hand squeeze yours. “Look at it, leannan. It’s beautiful.”

Finally you turned to join him, and he wasn’t wrong The area of Loch Katrine was gorgeous as the leaves had started to change. “This is beautiful, Oliver. It is absolutely gorgeous here.”

His smile grew and he pulled you closer. Your head rested on his chest and listened to the sound of his beating heart. Afterwhile he whispered, “I have found strength in your arms. We have built the foundation for an amazing love, and you will always rule my heart. Nobody can or will ever destroy what we have.”

You burrowed closer into his chest and felt his arms wrap around you more. Oliver had always been a ray of hope, and you knew he would continue to be one for you. You knew, you could feel your relationship growing in many ways at that moment. You hoped to Merlin, as you looked across the Scottish highlands in the arms of the man you loved, that someday you would build an indestructible empire with him. It is what you both deserved.

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood one shot #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood reader insert #hp imagine #hp one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #my own work #iliveiloveiwrite3.5k

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

Your Embrace

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Requests:

1. @witchglow hey love! congratulations on your followers! 🥺💗 can i request fred weasley x reader on which they are on the grimmauld place is not have beds for all so they have to share the bed, then they end up hugging or something like and the other day they wait and are super embarrassed, but in the end the two admit that they can share the bed whenever they want (im sorry if it got confused 😿) thank u, stay safe 💗😼💖

2. @whizbangs-78 congrats on 1.5k followers!!! could i request a fred weasley x reader with the one bed trope pleaseee??? thank youuu c: also if you're requests for this are closed feel free to ignore thank youu c: congrats on the milestone, again!!

A/N: since the requests were very similar, I decided to combine both of them, hope you two like it! again, I can’t seem to write short fics.

Send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

It was late in the night when Professor McGonagall fetched you and all of the Weasleys to go to Dumbledore so you could all take a Portkey back to Grimmauld Place. The Professor said something had happened with Arthur Weasley; so all of his children, you and Harry were taken away from Hogwarts.

It wasn’t the protocol getting you to travel too, but since you were awake when Professor McGonagall showed up in a hurry and told you to fetch Ginny, you managed to convince McGonagall that you would’ve to come with the Weasleys.

When finally there, nobody was able to stay still.

Fred and George were desperately trying to convince someone to take them to St. Mungo’s, even though Sirius repeated that it was not the smartest thing to do. The best was waiting inside of the House of Black even if it was not easy.

You noticed Fred and George weren’t going to let Sirius have a moment of peace — if there could be one at this point — so you requested a tour around the place since it was your first time there.

Reluctantly, Fred and George walked you around the house.

“He’s gonna be alright, come on; you both know it,” you said while walking through some sort of music room — it had a piano at least. “Your dad’s tough.”

George sighed but remained in silence. It was Fred that spoke.

“You can’t be sure of that. ”

You sat down in the piano, running your fingers carelessly over the musical instrument. Thankfully, the sound that came of that wasn’t loud.

“I can’t, you’re right,” you lamented, gulping.

Fred and George stared at themselves — they were in opposite corners of the room — and then they looked down at you in the piano stool.

“Sorry I was rude,” gasped Fred, stepping closer to you.

He was already taller than you, but with you sitting, the difference started to actually hurt your neck.

You shrugged in response. Fred knew you weren’t mad at him, he didn’t need to hear you say it. However, for just a second, he gazed down at you, locked in your eyes. Those moments were happening with more frequency, and that kinda worried him. He was sure he was being too obvious, and you would soon realize you saw him as more than just friends.

But you were too worried about your own obviousness towards fancying Fred to notice he liked you as well.

George looked around the room, trying really hard to not make a sound and interrupt the moment. He knew how much his twin fancied you. He suspected you desired Fred too, but he wasn’t sure yet.

You fake coughed, totally ruining the moment on purpose. Gosh, if Fred finds out I like him, he’ll never talk to me again, you thought, turning to face the piano.

“Do you guys know how to play?” you asked, running your fingers over it once again.

Fred and George exchanged looks before bursting in laughter.

“Do you take us for pianists?” George asked back before laughing again.

You should have paid more attention — they seriously didn’t look like musicians. Even so, you three squizzed yourselves in the one stool and attempted to produce music. Each of the twins sat in one of your sides, and you had to concentrate a lot to act normal with Fred’s proximity. You two were practically breathing the same air.

George’s here too, you freak, you thought, biting your inner cheek.

At ten past five in the morning, after a dozen attempts to play Für Elise — you three couldn’t even pass the third note —, Mrs Weasley stopped by the house.

As soon as Fred and George heard the doo, they jumped out of the stool.

“ ‘S gotta be mum,” said Fred. All the calm he had gained with playing the piano with you disappeared.

“Let’s see her,” said George and they walked away of the music room without waiting for you.

You sighed, closing the piano fallboard before getting up and heading out.

Of course, you were worried about their father, but you were also very, very tired. They were sleeping when the Professor fetched them, but you had been wide awake by the fireplace trying to finish a book you were desperate to know the end. Now, you couldn’t care less.

When you got to the kitchen, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Fred and George were around Mrs Wealsey, analyzing every word she had to say.

“We can all go and see him later,” she finished saying. It was probably a phrase that had started before you got downstairs, but there was no need to hear more — if they could go see him, it meant he’d be alright.

Fred turned his face around, looking for you, and when he found your eyes, he pressed his lips together tightly. It was his way of saying he was sorry again because you actually turned out to be correct.

“Oh, y/N, my dear, I didn’t know you were here too,” said Mrs Weasley, interrupting your discreet moment with Fred.

“Yeah,” you said, having no idea of what to say beyond that. It was weird and unexpected your presence there. Not even Hermione was there, and she was always around Ron.

You didn’t spend much time with the whole Weasley family; just Hogwarts time with Fred and George. Sometimes, you’d share trips to Hogsmeade with Ginny, but that was it.

“The more, the merrier!” said Sirius, getting up from his chair with a tender smile.

“Sure hope you think that, Sirius, ‘cause we might stay for Christmas,” said Mrs Weasley, clenching her jaw.

Sirius chuckled. “If you promise to cook.”

“Of course!” smiled Mrs Weasley, and Ginny giggled in the back.

Breakfast was served, and it was weird eating it before having slept, but nobody seemed to care. It wasn’t as good as Hogwarts’ feasts, but you didn’t mind. The fact that you were actually there — headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, organization you only heard Fred and George mention — made the details unimportant.

“You five should sleep after eating,” said Mrs Weasley, who was up behind the chairs where Fred and George were sitting. “We can visit your dad later.”

Fred seemed about to protest when his mom touched his shoulder softly, but it was a clear warning for her son to not complain, and so, Fred shut.

Harry joined some minutes later, after a long conversation with Sirius Black — who was, to you, an honour to meet. You knew that, although the Ministry was painting him as a villain, he could only be pure of heart, so much Harry spoke well of the man.

“Fred, honey, would you mind sharing your bed with George?” asked Mrs Wealsey when she noticed that her boys had finish eating. “There won’t be an extra bed for y/N, I’m afraid.”

Fred snorted, annoyed, and said: “Mum, George can’t sleep still; you know how much he moves around!”

George didn’t even bother being offended — he knew his twin was telling the truth.

Mrs Weasley puckered her forehead, thinking an alternative through. Ginny couldn’t share the bed with you — the youngest Weasley had already gotten upstairs to her bed and was probably deep sleeping right now. Ron was never pleased with sharing, and she would never bother Harry, who was being a dear just help Arthur Weasley being rescued.

“I suppose you and y/N could share it then,” said Mrs Weasley, noticing that was her only option left. She concluded you and Fred would be too tired to try anything under her nose. She was only half right about that, though. “Take my bed that is bigger in the other room, and I take your single.”

George sighed with the thought of sleeping in the same room with his mom like a toddler.

You and Fred, on the other hand, couldn’t stand to look at each other. Every time you tried, you would feel your cheeks turning red, and you would look away.

However, neither of you complained to Mrs Weasley about it, scared to lose an opportunity to be closer to each other. After helping with the dishes, you both headed, side by side, to the mentioned room.

Fred cleared his throat as you lay with your bellies up, taking extreme care not to touch each other.

“Thanks for earlier, with the music and all. It was a great distraction,” Fred said, turning just enough to see your face.

Oh, how gorgeous she is! he thought.

Your hair loose over the pillow, his big hands rested over his abdomen, your faces blushed with the closeness...

You turned to face Fred before replying. “My mum used to play me songs in our guitar back through the first war,” you said, biting your inside cheek, suddenly embarrassed fo sharing such a personal memory.

Fred knew that your father had died in the first war, you two had talked about it before. But it was never something that caused you pain — you were much too young when he died. It was the days when growing up, seeing the neighbours’ kids with their fathers and you having only your mom — that was when it started hurting. And that was when your mom started playing music to calm you.

“I find it quite relaxing,” you said.

“I sure was relaxed with you,” Fred said before blushing, ashamed with his unexpected confession.

You gulped, unsure of what to say or do. You decided it was best to remain silent because Fred probably felt relaxed with all of his friends.

There was nothing left to be said, and Fred really needed to sleep if he wanted to see his father later, so you returned to your first position — facing the ceiling. You never knew, but, without your eyes staring deep into his, he was finally able to fall asleep.

On the other hand, it took you a couple more minutes to travel to the dreamland. Knowing that Fred was closer than ever before made you feel more awake than if you had slept all day. Of course, that was just a false sensation your subconscious tricked you with — soon, you were sleeping too.

“Come on, love birds! Mum wants us to come now!” yelled a voice, pulling the blankets away from you.

“Be more gentle, George,” advised another voice.

“Come on, you two!” shouted the male voice again.

It toom you a couple of seconds to finally open your eyes and take a glimpse of who owned the voices that were disturbing the most peaceful nap you had ever gotten.

Ginny stared at you with a wan smile while George held in one of his hands the cosy blanket that was once over you. But their faces were hiding something, and it was just when George smirked to you that you decided to sit up.

Fred was thinking of doing the exact same thing as you, but he was having more trouble with it since you were practically all over him.

Yeah, that’s right.

The cosiness and warmness didn’t come from the blanket — it came from Fred Weasley.

He was still laying with his belly up, but over his abdomen, you had arranged yourself, in some sort of embrace or hug. So, obviously, you blushed right away — your whole face redder than the Weasleys’ hair.

Fred was blushing too, but since you had hidden your face over your pillow — the exact one you clearly didn’t use to sleep — you weren’t able to see.

“Get out,” he muttered with grinding teeth. George pretended to be angry and walked away, tossing the blanket over the bed with no caution. Ginny took one last glimpse around before whispering for you two to not be late.

Fred sighed before taking the pillow over your head.

“They’re gone,” he said with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry for... well, wherever was that. I probably am a sleepwalker or something; I swear I didn’t place myself over your chest on purpose,” you said, biting your lip and facing him with hope in your eyes — hope that he would believe you were not a maniac.

Fred wished you had done that on purpose because that had been the most comfortable he had ever felt in a bed.

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry about my siblings,” he said, finally getting up. “I’m gonna see my mum and make sure we’re going to St. Mungo’s too.”

“We?” you echoed the word out loud, but he had already left the room, and so, he didn’t hear.

You were planning on going with the Weasleys, sure, but you didn’t know they wanted you there as well. Well, at least Fred did.

You gave Fred a few minutes to get downstairs before you. When you got there, everybody seemed to be waiting just for you.

“Sorry for not waking you up earlier, dear. You both looked so relaxed,” said Mrs Weasley, stepping towards you. She held you by your shoulders. “I prepared both of you sandwiches, so you can eat faster.”

She let your shoulders go and grabbed one sandwich over the table — the second one was already half-eaten by Fred Weasley in the other corner of the kitchen. You were too embarrassed thinking that even Molly saw you hugging Fred in your sleep to say something other than thank you.

“Your trunks are here too,” the woman mentioned, with a small smile. Fred finished his sandwich, so you hurried to finish yours. “Tonks? Mad-Eye?”

With Mrs Weasley calling, both of the mentioned walked in the kitchen and Ginny rushed to Tonks, hugging her tightly.

“Nymphadora?” you asked, almost choking on the last bite. The short pink hair was the essential clue for you to connect the surname to the person. You just didn’t call Tonks Tonks, it was a childish habit, but it was unforgettable.

“Don’t call me...! Hey, it’s you!” exclaimed Tonks, as soon as Ginny freed her and ran to your side, hugging you. “You grew up, Merlin!”

You let out a hearty laugh while struggling to breath. Tonks finally freed you, but still stayed by your side. You knew each other because you were neighbours for a while, and often your mother alone could not take care of you — Nymphadora always offered (for a sickle a day) to babysit.

If it was up for you and Tonks, you’d have stayed the day talking, but Mrs Weasley kindly reminded there was a place you needed to be.

The trip to St.Mungo’s was, to say the least, embarrassing. Every time Fred would lock eyes with you, your cheeks would turn red, and it felt like everyone knew how you too slept. Together, tightly, legs intertwine... Yeah, you had to fight yourself to not remember those things.

Thankfully, you and Tonks got a minute to talk when the family walked in with Harry to see Arthur Weasley. She told you everything about her job and how she liked to now be a part of the Order. “Sure Dumbledore will ask you to join when you come of age,” she even mentioned with a nudge of shoulders.

The Weasleys trooped back into the corridor. Tonks glanced at you, but she already knew you weren’t going to come in, so she went in with Mad-Eye and closed the door behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows towards you — he wasn’t seriously expecting you had something to talk with his father, right? — but then George suggested to listen behind the door, and everybody was distracted for a moment.

After that espionage, Harry Potter started acting odd as ever, but definitely not more than you and Fred. Ginny and George would look from Fred to you, and then they would giggle. Somehow, that was making matters worse.

Back at the headquarters, things still weren’t easy.

“Ginny, would you mind sleeping with y/N?” whispered Mrs Weasley in what she hoped was a tone you wouldn’t hear, but you did. You stepped away as quickly as you had stepped in, and turned around, desperately trying not to overhear that conversation.

So Fred asked to not sleep with you again. That was presumable but still unpleasant.

Ron asked for your help to decorate the house for Christmas, and you accepted gladly, hoping the task would take your mind out of Fred.

Ron was worried about Harry — he seemed to think whatever Harry heard Mad-Eye talk upset him. You agreed and added that Ron should just give Harry some time, without pushing him.

Ginny joined to help, and as soon as Ron went to the back to get a stair, Ginny rushed to your side and elbowed you.

“So, don’t know if you heard, but I told mum I wouldn’t sleep with you,” she said with a smile.

You almost dropped the ornament in your hand.

“Sorry?”

“So you can sleep with Fred again, duh!” she kept the smile on.

“Hm, Ginny, I’m pretty sure your brother doesn’t want that to happen again,” you said, avoiding to look at her happy face. “He asked your mum to change the place I was sleeping in.”

“What? No, y/N! Where did you get that idea? Mum’s the one trying to part you too,” Ginny laughed at your ridiculousness. “She thinks you two are secretly dating and she can’t let ‘Fred make her a grandma so early’.’’

Your eyes widened as you slowly turned to face Ginny, but first making sure no other Weasley was around.

“Her words, not mine,” added Ginny quickly and she burst into laughter staring at your silly face.

“Good Lord. I hope you corrected her about my relationship with Fred,” you sighed, pressing a hand over your heart. “I completely forgot she had gotten a glimpse at us this morning,” you whispered, just to yourself really.

“Why would I correct her? He wants you, you want him. Just a matter of time ’til she’s right” said Ginny and she started running away from you because the face you made was positively scary.

When decorations were up, and Christmas spirit was finally in the house, it was already time for bed again. Fred and George had gotten upstairs before you because you pretended to be really interested in Mrs Weasley’s knitting. The truth was you didn’t want to face Fred again.

You sighed, giving up in your fight. You should face Fred once and for all. Speak the truth, walk away and sleep in the couch downstairs.

But when you got into the room, and you saw his face, you just froze. He was laying on the bed with his belly up and his eyes closed — for a moment, you thought he was sleeping, but then his breathing wouldn’t be completely unregulated.

“Fred?” your voice was too high, and you ended up scaring him. He jumped up, sitting down immediately. “Sorry,” you muttered, sitting down in front of him.

You both breathed hard. Fred seemed to want to say something, but you would never know because you interrupted his half-open mouth with yours.

You kissed him in a rashed and inexperience way, after all, he didn’t expect that. And, honestly, neither did you.

Fred suspected that either you would ignore him forever and pretend that the nap shared in an embrace never happened or that you would hit him and kick him out of the room. Feeling your lips on his was a more fanciful idea than any he has ever had.

It took Fred a little while to get rid of the shock, but when he realized that you were kissing him because you wanted to, he gave in, pulling you by your waist and sitting you over his lap. He smirked in the middle of the kiss, causing you to let a slight giggle out. Your hands went from his cheekbone to his hair, and you played with it with pleasure.

“If I knew the way to your heart was napping with you, I’d have done it sooner,” Fred whispered, breathing hard when your lips were away from his.

You smiled, “you got to my heart way before you slept with me, Fred Weasley.”

He squeezed your waist, pushing you away just enough so he could see your face. You blushed when your eyes met.

“Good to know that,” he smiled too. “ ‘Cause I’ve been thinking all day that you were ignoring me, that you hated me... ”

“I thought you were ignoring me!”

You two giggled at your stupidy.

“Sorry for kissing you out of nowhere,” you sighed, slowly placing your hands on his shoulders.

“You are welcomed to do it anytime you want,” he said, looking down to your lap still over his.

“Like now?” you smirked too. “Because I feel we lost too much time sleeping today...”

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing,” he susurrated and smirked, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing you harder than before.

And this time was just perfect.

Bonus:

“So how was last night?” Ginny asked as soon as you steeped in the kitchen the next morning.

You could have stayed in bed curled in Fred forever — you sure wanted to— but you knew that if Mrs Weasley had any more reason to believe you and Fred were together, nights in the same bed would be over.

And so, doing the things you did last night would be way harder to achieve.

“What you mean?” you asked, grabbing a mug of hot cocoa.

“Please,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “See that look in my brother’s face? Last time I saw him that happy was when he got a new broom.”

You turned your face insignificantly to see Fred, who was sitting at the end of the table, eating some sort of bread with Geoge right next to him.

You frowned slightly to Ginny, who rolled her eyes more time.

“Good Merlin, I won’t be able to be two meters near you two, will I?”

You giggled and tried to hide your smile with the mug. Fred heard the sound of your laugh and instantly turned to your direction. His eyes wandered your whole face, and he fixed them in your mouth. He licked his lips before smiling and blink, and then he turned to his twin as if he was paying attention to George all along.

When your heart started beating again, the rest of the Weasleys and Sirius Black had gotten to the kitchen too.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked Ron, but he shrugged. Harry was going through his own problems. “Well, anyway, pay up, will you, Ronniekins.”

“What?” he looked at Ginny, “wait, what?” he looked at you. “Couldn’t have waited one more night, could you?”

Ginny smiled when Ron tossed her a sickle.

“You guys placed a bet over Fred and me?” you whispered to the red-haired girl.

“Sure I did, and I won,” Ginny smiled while you rolled your eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, Fred lost. He said you would never like him back.”

Your eyes went from Ginny to Fred across the table, and for a minute while you looked at him, you forgot his entire family was there, and you sighed like a girl in love. Well, that was what you were anyway.

When you and Fred finally got time alone, you gave him a sickle.

“You should never have bet against us,” you said, placing the coin in his hand.

“Never doing that again,” he promised with a soft smile before pulling you close one more kiss.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley

652 notes · View notes

lilyharvord · 3 years

Note

Do you in red queen univeres is like harry potter. The silvers are like the pureblood family. Mare is a newblood like being a muggles born witch and Julian is more like Dumbledor or the Weasley what do you think?

I'm gonna say the universe itself does seem to lend itself to those categories! Or sub-catagories! It also very easily lends itself to a Hogwarts AU! PREPARE FOR AN AU UNDER THE READ MORE

I mean, Mare seeing her favorite big brother Shade receive a super pretty envelope from this strange school saying he is a wizard and is being offered a position in that school? Going to Diagon Alley with her family and Shade picking out a owl, and old faded robes cause he family really can't afford anything else. Then her hugging him tightly as he has one foot on this strange train and one foot on the strange platform that they had to run through a brick wall to get to?! Holding his hand through the window and running along side the train as he promises to write her every week before she runs out of platform and has to stop as the train pulls away and he is waving and smiling wildly at her. Her little hand slowly falling from her wave to be by her side and she wishes desperately to be on that train with him? ONLY TO RECEIVE HER VERY OWN PRETTY LETTER THE NEXT SUMMER? She gets to do the whole process! And she has all these fantasies about what it will be like based on the letters Shade sent her all last year. She wants an owl, or a salamander, or something like that. And she want to play the strange quidditch game he mentions. She wants to run up and down staircases that change. When she gets on the train with him, she practically pulling out of her mom's arms, and almost forgets to hug a very upset Gisa goodbye.

On the train, Shade tells her all the details, introduces her to his friends: ketha (a second year like him), Ada (a sixth year), and Farley (a second year that Mare is incredibly intimidated by until she sees Shade heart eyeing her every two seconds).

They tell her about the houses. Shade is more than proud to be sorted into Hufflepuff even though Farley teases him about it and Ada only smiles at the whole thing. But they all get quiet about Slytherin. It's not a house you want to be in, Shade says quietly. Mare doesn't quite understand. Cunning? what's so bad about being that? Smart and quick witted? Hell, there's nothing wrong with it.

Then she meets them. The Slytherins. And she sees why she shouldn't be a part of that House. But then she meets the strange, dark haired, blue eyed boy at the back of the group with her, who tries to sit in a boat alone until Mare clambers in behind him, cursing the fact that her socks got wet and they're going to be gross and her shoes will squelch while she walks. He seems a little uncomfortable around her big personality until she introduces herself, and he smiles and shakes her hand, quietly introducing himself as Maven. Nothing more. Mare doesn't mind, loads of people don't give their last names.

Then she's in the Great Hall, underneath the Sorting Hat, Shade smiling at her like a fiend from the Hufflepuff table while Maven is already sitting at the Slytherin one, slouched and looking just a bit upset. (It's not what you think y'all. it's because CAL's a Gryfindor, and their dad was too and he still wants to get his fathers love, and he pretty much just CEMENTED the fact that he won't get it now.) Mare sees him, and the Sorting Hat huffs and says, making friends already? Mare frowns and then thinks back it: he's lonely. And the hat laughs before saying: loyal then, hufflepuff might do you well. She makes a face and it laughs once again when she thinks: I can do better than that. And it seems to nod in understanding before standing upright and announcing SLYTHERIN. Maven sits up taller as Mare leaps down from the stool and runs to him with a big, shit eating grin on her face. Shade goes a little pale in the face but smiles at her nonetheless. It's his baby sister, and if she's happy, he is too.

She's very happy. Slytherin isn't all that bad. Maven's her friend and he's a very good one. He's smart as a tack, and knows all these neat tricks to get through work. But its when they go out to fly on the brooms where they differ finally. Maven is... not a fan of being off the ground. Mare... she could live up there. She tries to get him interested but he jut won't have it, preferring to bury his nose in books and study. (Mare wonders why he wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw like Ada, but she shrugs it off).

It's one day when they're all out walking and that girl Evangeline starts teasing some kid and throws his whatever in the air that things finally get interesting for Mare. In a very impressive showing of skill, she catches this tiny object while flying. IMMEDIATELY, the captain of the Slytherin team wants her as his Seeker. Its UNHEARD OF everyone argues. NO FIRST YEARS allowed! But it's vetoed, and Mare is allowed to play. Shade is more than proud, puffing out his chest, and forcing her to walk around with him so he can introduce her to his class and everyone as the youngest Seeker in years.

It's after she is sneaking out of the Gryffindor tower one night, having stayed to talk with Shade and Farley who is finally losing some of her Ice Queen exterior and even cracked a smile at one of Mare's jokes, that she almost gets in trouble. She is sprinting down the stairs of the tower when she runs smack into someone so they both end up tumbling down the stairs and hitting the back of the Fat Lady's portrait when they land. She stumbles over apologies, trying to grab her things in the dark (and pocketing one or two of his by accident), when she looks up. She's seen him before, she know she has, but can't remember from where. Plus, it's a little dark and she can't see him all that clearly. He's sitting there, tie undone, and shirt all messed up from falling, and rubbing the back of his head where it hit the back of the portrait when he looks at her. HE knows her. This the girl who is the youngest Seeker in years! They blink at each other, and she tries to take off, but he grabs her wrist, keeping ahold of her as he says: Thief! when he realizes she grabbed a few of his things. She looks down at the mess of things in her arms, and then frowns at him before saying, No! These are my things! he pulls out his wand and book from her hands and she's like: okay, well, those aren't mine, but whatever. And he smiles at her as he stands and she's suddenly craning her neck to look up at him, and LORD ABOVE what did he eat as a child?! She squints up at him, still trying to place him when he shifts his things to his other arm and holds out a hand for her to shake. She looks at it, and then takes it slowly. His grip is so warm and comforting, but not sweaty like some of the other boys her age. He shakes her hand and introduces himself as Cal, and THEN Mare knows who he is. This is Maven's brother. The older one, the perfect spitting image of his father who is the "Perfect Son." Maven always sneers just slightly when he says that, and now that she has met this Cal, she knows Maven is right. Turning up her nose at him, she spins on her heel and leaves, completely uninterested.

Okay she lied, she was a little more interested than she let on. She sees him EVERYWHERE after that. He raises his brows at her in the Great Hall, and even smiled and said good morning Mare when she walked by with Maven to Charms one day. After that day, Maven gets really sullen, and tells her that she shouldn't talk to him, that he's trouble. He's a third year, in line to be Prefect and Headboy at some point. She doesn't want to get mixed up with wet blanket like that. She agrees, but something about him, his eyes, the gentle smile, and way he'd looked at her the first time he saw her makes her heart do a little jig every time she thinks about him.

Before she knows it, its the first Quidditch match, and she's set to play. She steps out in her beautiful green and black uniform, and while she's in the tunnel adjusting the straps on her wrist guard with her teeth, someone laughs behind her and says: there is a better way to do that. She looks up, the laces half in her mouth, and a tiny bit of drool running down her chin to see Cal leaning against his broom. Of course he plays Quidditch, she thinks with a scowl. What perfect son wouldn't? He takes her wrist though and ties the guard gently, pulling the laces perfectly through the loops. Maven tried to help her with it this morning but gave up when he couldn't do it. Her face burns with embarrassment but he doesn't notice, or at least, he pretends not to notice. When he finished both wrist guards, he shoulders his broom and with a wink says, "eyes up and head up, dont want to take a Blunger to face on your first day." He strolls away after that, and Mare stands there, watching his shoulders as he leaves. How does a thirteen year old boy manage to look like that?! Shaking it off she steps on the pitch but... that's all she remembers. She takes a nasty blunger to side of the head and falls to the pitch floor. When she wakes up, the entire Slytherin team is around her and so is half the Gryfinddor team, Farley is grimacing as she takes in the situation, and Cal is leaning over her, shielding her from the son. She frowns up at him before saying, "you didn't say they moved that fast." He snorts to hide a laugh as the medics take her off the pitch. Good news? She learns later in the Infirmary, they won! When she went down, Cal, the Keeper moved as if to go to her and they were able to put the Quaffle in to get the final point! Her captain claps her on the back, and she tries not to puke when the movement jars her head.

The year ends uneventfully, and she waves goodbye to Maven as she disembarks and he leaves with Cal. A woman with matching icy blue eyes and stark, ash blonde hair frowns at her as Maven smiles and waves his own goodbye. She pointedly ignores Cal's title wave goodbye.

The next year is much of the same but there is a... current in the air, a charge that wasn't there before. Something is happening, something dark in the world. Shade and Farley go to Hogsmead and talk about it, but Mare can't go yet. She sits in a hidden alcove of the Astronomy tower, watching the world outside with her books open before her. Maven is quieter this year, but there is a strange new confidence and glint in his eye. It worries her. He is not the boy she waved goodbye to at the beginning of the summer.

One day while studying, she hears footsteps and looks up to see Cal pausing along side her. Her stomach flip flops when she sees him. The summer did wonders for him. Somehow, he is more attractive. She didn't even realize that was possible. And she REFUSED to admit that she thought about him a few times... well more than a few times... over the break. He smiles at her and before she knows it, she's leaning toward him to talk. She asks why he's not at Hogsmead and he grimaces before saying he is struggling with Diviniation and has to take an extra class on it every week. She laughs, and the smile he gives her when she does laugh turns her stomach to molten lava. He helps her out of the windowsill and they walk to the Great Hall together. Maven intercepts them before then, his eyes narrowing and darkening when Cal waves goodbye and heads on his way. Mare nudges Maven with her shoulder and teases him saying: are you worried I might like him more than you? Maven glowers at her, and she softens before taking his hand and promising him that Cal is "a complete and utter moron, who she could never like." It seems to relax him, but not completely. Again, Mare worries. He was never concerned about Cal or any of this before.

The year works that way though. She slowly get closer to Cal. They have this strange unspoken agreement to meet at HER windowsill once a week and then walk along the ground by the lake. One day, in the winter, she forgets a thick enough coat, and is shivering in her sweater until he shrugs off his cloak and drapes it around her shoulders. She blinks in surprise, before smiling and thanking him. It's far too big on her and drags on the ground a bit, but its warm and it smells like him. Which she is terrified to realize she kind of likes.

She starts spending time in the Gryffindor tower too, getting closer with Shade's friends, and sometimes, Cal is there too. He's not really a staple (he and Farley don't really get along, something about her calling him a Pure Blooded Hypocrite), but Mare finds she likes when he is around.

That summer is terrible. Maven doesn't write her as much as he promised. And the world is getting Dark™️. There are strange disappearances on the TV. Things are getting weird. Shade gets secret letters from Farley that he hides from her. When they go back to Hogwarts, things are... different. There are guards, there weren't Guards before. Maven looks more gaunt and haunted. Even Cal doesn't seem as cheery anymore. They're walks around the lake go from once to twice to three times a week. He tells her about his side of the Wizarding World, and she learns about a group that is known as the Death Eaters (who serve a mysterious Dark One that wants to eliminate the muggle population and the mud bloods). Mare frowns when he says that word. He says it quietly, like its something bad. She's not sure why, it's a word. When she asks Farley about it, her friend's face hardens and she tells her it's a nasty term that Pure Bloods use to describe the people like them. The ones who come from non magic families.

She finds solace in Quidditch, she even goes out when Cal offers to show her a few tricks, and that time... it is strangely magical. She finally gets to go to Hogsmead, and spend time with Shade and Farley there. They have a new little group, a taller fifth year named Tristan is added, Ada is with them, Ketha, and a couple of others. Shade tells her to go off and find something to do one time and she ends up spying on them. When she does, she overhears them talking about the Dark One, that they are back and that is the reason so many Muggles are dying and disappearing strangely. That Hogwarts might not be safe anymore. She confronts Cal about it one day, and he stops dead in the snow, spins on her and says never to talk about it. That the Dark One is dead, has been dead for year and that she should never mention them. She is taken aback, he's never seemed so concerned to desperate before. So she drops it. But things get worse over christmas break.

When she returns, Maven is almost cold with her. She tries to tease him like she used to, but he just isn't having it. She clings tighter to him, worried that things are not going well at home. She knows his mother isn't great, knows his father is an asshole. She can't understand how two people like that managed to make someone like Maven, and someone like Cal. But she tries her best to be a friend for Maven. She can't help but get closer with Cal. Something about him draws her in, and keeps her.

One day at Hogsmead, she runs into him (literally, again). She slips on the ice and he catches her, his hands grabbing her hips and pulling her close so she has to grab the front of his coat and cloak to keep herself upright too. They look at each other for a long time, confused and full of butterflies before she spots Maven at the other end of the bridge. She was supposed to meet him at the sweet shop but was running late. His eyes narrow ever so slightly at what he sees, and Mare pulls away from Cal glaring at him and adjusting her hair when he blinks in confusion. She turns on her heel and leaves without a word, taking Maven's hand in her own as she passes him and dragging him along.

That summer, something changes fundamentally in the world. The world actually gets even Darker. Shade gets more worried, and Farley starts showing up at thier house. Mare know they are seeing each other. But she keeps it to herself. When they go back to Hogwarts... there are Guards on the train. She walks down the hallway and runs into Cal on his way to his compartment. The train rocks as she is trying to pass him and she ends up in his arms again. She's fifteen, and he's seventeen, old for a sixth year. But in his Prefect uniform, he looks quiet attractive, and somehow he got MORE attractive over the summer. The flutters that had once been nothing but tummy flutters when she was elven/twelve are now full blown butterflies in her stomach. She would never admit it, but she had a dream about him over the summer. About his hands on her hips and the stone wall of the Gryffindor common room rubbing against her back as she pinned her to it. She doesn't pull herself out of his arms right now though, there is something comforting about being in his embrace right now, when the world seems to slowly falling apart around them. He lets her go, a falsh of something in his eyes before he smiles at her and says, safe travels.

When they get to Hogwarts, she knows there is something wrong with Maven. He looks like a corpse, his eyes are dark and his features are sharper than usual. She tries to get him to smile for her, but he can't seem to muster much. So one day, out of desperation, she kisses him. He melts finally, and she melts with him, burning like Icarus when he got to close to the sun. They become... a thing for lack of a better term. He clings tightly to her, pulls her away from Farley and Shade and her friends, pointedly makes sure she doesn't spend time with Cal to the point where he actually seeks her out one day, and Maven jeers at him until he leaves. It scares her, he was never hostile, never a person like this. When she talks to him about it, he raves about things she doesn't understand. An In fact, he seems almost angry with her. She can't understand, she tries to get it out of him halfway through the fall, and he turns around and calls her a nasty Mudblood, jeering at her about the fact that is lucky he even considers her a friend. It breaks her heart, shatters it into a thousand pieces. She didn't kiss him just because it might make him feel better. She kissed him because she wanted to, because she thought it felt right (she also did it because a secret part of her hoped that kissing him would make the dreams about Cal stop.)

She stops hanging around him, the other kids like him and the other Slytherins embrace him instead, folding him into their group, while she starts to gravitate to Shade and Farley again.

they go home for Christmas, and the world tilts completely on its access. There is horrible accident that kills a number of families, and Shade immediately packs a backpack that night to go see Farley. Mare forces him to take her with him. When they get to Farley's, everyone is there, all the people Shade has been friends with. She learns they are forming a group, the Scarlet Guard, to defend themselves. The Dark One is coming back, and they will be ready.

When they return in the spring, the teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts does not prepare them right. Mare feels like a child being handed a pair of children scissors to solve a grown up problem. She talks to Shade about it, and the group agrees. They need training. It's then that Mare does what cements her fate with Maven. She seeks out Cal. He is not looking too great either, there is something haunting his face and when she finally walks up to him one morning on the lawn near the lake, he looks at her suspiciously. She doesn't know why but she ends up curled against his side, sobbing. He's taken aback at first, and then soften, wrapping an arm around her while she tells him everything. With a tight jaw, and a nod, he agrees to help them training.

They form a secret group, and they start training. It's then that Mare starts to realize that perhaps she likes Cal more than she lets on. he's a good teacher, a very good one, and whenever he holds her hand and guides her wrist through a complex spell movement, she feels her face heat up. He's a sixth year, seventeen and on the cusp of greatness it seems. His OWLs were outstanding, he is set on the path she knows he wants. They train together privately. On a nondescript day like any other, she stays after to talk to him, and when she does, he kisses her. It turns her into a pool of liquid mercury, and when he breaks it off and gently caresses her cheek with his thumb she knows she is doomed.

They leave for the summer, and she writes him daily. He writes back, telling her about things happening at home. There are issues, his father is stressed, his step mother is being cagey, and Maven... he's not himself. She worries, Shade is a sixth year and she's just a fifth year, but the world feels like it is resting on their shoulders.

When they come back to school in the fall, Maven confronts her. He found the letters she wrote to Cal. He accuses her of a number of things she is horrified by. Cal steps in to push him back, and in a horrible moment, Maven draws his wand and puts to Cal's throat. The brothers stand like that for a moment, and Mare with her hand on her wand fears who she will have to point her own wand at. But Maven drops the wand, and that is that when he storms off.

The Scarlet Guard grows in number. And then it happens right before they leave for Winter Break. The earth shattering, horrible truth. The Dark One returns, and no where is safe. Hogwarts is under attack before anyone knows what is happening. Mare is fighting through the halls, throwing out hexes and charms she never thought she would have to use. She battles her way to Cal, who takes her hand and pulls her close. The Aurors arrive but they are not enough. Shade, Farley, Mare and Cal storm the upper tower. Cal makes them stay below in the hidden crawl space because Maven is up there and he can hear his father. When he gets up there, it is not what he thinks. Mare and Farley and Shade watch from below in horror as Elara uses the Imperius Curse to actually turn Cal on his father so he kills him. When that happens, the truth is revealed. Elara is the Dark One, or the new chosen Dark One among the Death Eaters. Mare storms up the steps before Elara can kill Cal, using the one spell she knows might end the duel. But Maven steps in and they end up dueling. With tears steaming down her cheeks, she tries to fight him off. But he is not fighting to stun her, he is fighting to kill her, to put her out of commission. She is disarmed, and in a horrible moment, thinks he will kill her. Elara is cooing at him to do it, to punish her for loving his brother instead of him. She pleads with him silently, begging him with her eyes not to. His lips twist as he struggles with the decision. It's too long, Shade and Farley get up the steps and force Elara and Maven to appirate away.

The world cracks open like an egg as war spills out after that.

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS LONG. ANYWAY, ENJOY EVERYONE. I'm not going back and rereading this so whatever you see is what you get XD

#(*ask lily*)#(*shut up lily*)#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #oh no...I smell another fic #Hogwarts AU #lord have mercy #'she would be a THICCCCC fic #plus I'd have to do some Harry Potter rereading to freshen up my memory on things like spells etc.#my writing #my fanfics #my headcanons

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official-weasley · 3 years

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Love, William (Bill Weasley x OC) - Chapter 5

WARNINGS: Aunt Muriel 🤭, mentions of alcohol and getting drunk

Chapter 5 - Theodora's Flying

Bill was used to the racket that woke him up every morning by now. He was hoping that the rest of his siblings had the same idea as he did – get more sleep the night before the tournament – but when he gazed at his alarm clock and saw that it was only six-thirty in the morning, he quickly realized that he was the only one.

He sighed, got up, and stretched. He heard the twins running down the stairs and he could swear he heard Charlie tickle Ginny in the hallway. At least mum wasn’t shouting this morning. That was a record – two days in a row.

He slowly opened the door of his room and popped his head out cautiously, just in case something would explode in the hallway.

“Never a dull morning, is it?”

Bill turned around toward the voice. He saw Theodora standing in the doorway of Ginny’s room, watching Charlie chase after their youngest sibling as she was squeaking not to tickle her any more.

“Yeah.” Was all he could muster.

Theodora wasn’t the first person he expected to see this morning as she was usually with the twins. He tried smiling and hoped that his untied hair was able to hide his red cheeks.

He hated that he couldn’t say one word to her without blushing or getting butterflies. But he couldn’t deny that he sort of liked it either.

—

The past few weeks have been one of the best he had in a long time. He came to terms that perhaps him having a crush on her wasn’t so bad. He hardly ever thought about the age difference between them anymore and he enjoyed spending time with her – every minute of it.

He and Theodora sneaked out a few times to watch the stars as they did that night when Charlie and Ron forced him to go after her.

He had so much fun with her and he found out so many things about her. He now understood why she was friends with the twins – they might get on his nerves sometimes but they were such good and protective friends to her.

She told him how they have been there for her every time her mum sent her a mean letter, every time she felt alone and missed her brother, every time a boy broke her heart.

He loved listening to her talk about Quidditch even though it never interested him more than a few games he played with his siblings at the Burrow. He loved to hear how she started to correspond with Charlie – asking for a piece of simple advice about her Care of Magical Creatures essay. He couldn’t stop listening to her talk so greatly and fondly about his younger siblings.

He told her about his internship in Egypt and how hard it was to become a Curse Breaker. How they don’t tell you in school what you have to go through to get the job. He told her how much he loves it and that he feels like he will never get sick of what he does.

She was the first person he felt like he could tell anything to without being judged and she seemed so interested in everything he had to say. He felt accepted talking to her and even though he didn’t like admitting it, he felt like that for the first time.

Bill still wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact of how close they got all of a sudden and he was suspicious of the twins and Charlie as they stopped teasing him and pushing him toward her. They were perfect angels and he knew them well enough to know they had to either be up to something or something between him and Theodora changed.

He caught himself waking up excited every morning to spend more time with her. He was astonished how they never ran out of things to talk about and he constantly thought of things that Theodora might find funny because he loved hearing her laugh.

Theodora surprised him when she told him what exactly she will do in the shop when she manages to open it with the twins. Bill thought that she was going to work alongside his brothers and sell their products. He didn’t expect at all that she has basically robbed the library near her home of all the books that are business-related as she decided to stay behind the scenes and run the whole thing.

She admitted that she isn’t big on exposing herself and as much as she loves all their products she doesn’t have a talent when it comes to expressing how amazing they are. The twins and she sat down and talked about it and quickly realized that they are a perfect team – she doesn’t like selling while they do and they think finances are boring but they intrigue her.

The fact that she was willing to read through dozens of books and learn about how to properly run a business made Bill fancy her even more. At this point, he stopped questioning how could she only be 17 and just accepted the fact that she was the most amazing girl he ever had a chance to meet.

—

Charlie finally took mercy on Ginny and was now chasing after Theodora. Even though Bill knew it was all harmless fun he was jealous of Charlie and wished he could be so relaxed and fun around her.

Because he didn’t want to think about how boring and pathetic he is on the day of the tournament, he decided to go down and see what all the commotion is about.

The second he stepped to the lower floor he wanted to turn around and sprint back up. He heard the twins talk to aunt Muriel. He was glad that it wasn’t him. It’s not that he didn’t like her, he did, but she scared him just as much.

He never knew what to say in front of her without insulting her or saying something she is going to comment on. She liked to correct their mistakes ever since Bill can remember and he suddenly understood why Charlie was so keen on staying upstairs – Charlie disliked her even more because she isn’t an animal lover at all and she always commented on the fact that Charlie never brought a single girl home never even willing to listen what he has to say on the topic.

Bill tip-toed to the nearby wooden pillar that separated the hallway from the living room and leaned on it to hear what the twins had to endure. Before he could focus on their conversation he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and the second Theodora saw what he was doing, she started giggling.

She carefully stepped next to him and mimicked his posture.

“What are we doing?” She asked playfully.

“Hiding from my aunt,” Bill admitted, red in the face.

He was bothered by how old Theodora was while he acted like a child, hiding, and eavesdropping? He is such a loser.

“Is she so bad?” Theodora couldn’t stop shaking from giggles which she desperately tried to muffle with her hand over her mouth.

She tilted her head to sneak a peek into the living room.

“There she is! Come here, Theo. Let us introduce you to our favorite aunt.” George said nervously.

Before Bill could do anything about it and save Theodora from the interaction, she was already dragged by Fred to stand next to them.

“And who might you be?” Aunt Muriel narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to Theodora.

“This is our best friend, auntie.” George put a hand on Theodora’s back and pushed her forward almost making her slam her forehead against their aunt’s.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Theodora.” She extended her hand and waited for aunt Muriel’s response.

Muriel pursed her lips, her eyes still narrowed, scanning the girl. Theodora couldn’t remember the last time she felt so uncomfortable. It seemed the aunt was either judging her or contemplating if she should invite her to her secret club.

“Muriel.” She said slowly, her eyes moving up and down Theodora’s figure again. “A pleasure.”

“Theo, could you help me in the kitchen, dear?”

Theodora has never been so relieved to help Mrs. Weasley and she hoped that she won’t have to encounter aunt Muriel again during her stay here at the Burrow. She made a mental note to ask Fred and George in which room their aunt is staying in later so she can avoid the entire floor.

She excused herself, forcing a grin. Muriel’s eyes were still on her, her lips pursed again. Theodora stepped towards the kitchen as quickly as the gesture allowed her not to look as if she was running away.

“I like her.” Bill heard his aunt say.

He exhaled as much air as his lungs allowed him. He felt relieved that Theodora could slip away and that his aunt approved of her, not that it mattered in any way.

“So, which one of you is dating her?” Muriel asked Fred and George.

“Neither.” They replied in unison.

“Why? Can’t bother to put in the effort?” The aunt snorted.

“No,” Fred answered annoyed.

“She would be a fine lady to join the family.” Muriel persisted.

“Oh, don’t you worry auntie, Bill’s working on that.”

Bill frowned and clenched his jaw at George’s words. If he wasn’t so desperate to hide from his aunt he would go to the living room and strangle George for saying that.

“William?” Muriel gasped. “Isn’t the girl your age?”

“She is,” Fred answered, his voice indicating that he doesn’t see a problem.

“Are you out of your mind? She is too young for him. Shame on you for even thinking that and you better tell me you were joking and Bill isn’t trying to get the attention of the poor girl!”

Bill’s shoulders sunk at those words and he felt something break inside of him. He knew he was right. He knew Theodora was too young for him and that his siblings were wrong. He couldn’t believe it but aunt Muriel was making sense for a change.

He wanted to slam his head against the pillar – why did he have to listen to his siblings? Of course, they had no idea what they were talking about. He was having too much fun with Theodora, of course, it was too good to be true.

He sighed, feeling disappointed in himself. What was he thinking? What did he think would happen? He was a fool to think that there could ever be something between him and Theodora. He knew that now and he won’t let Charlie or the twins convince him to do anything as stupid again.

He and Theodora got so close in such a short amount of time and what did that bring him? Joy at first and happiness and the feeling of belonging and an opportunity to be himself. But that was just an illusion.

He was mad at himself for thinking that way. For allowing himself to get so low. Of course, he should’ve talked to an adult about it – ask mum perhaps – she would’ve set him straight in a minute.

He let out another sigh. He was right all along and it was time to stop pretending. There can never be anything between him and that wonderful girl. He can try and be friends with her like Charlie was, but he knew himself too well to know that he can't just stop feeling what he feels.

Another sigh – this time accompanied with a head shake. He just has to focus on the tournament and he can go home soon after that. It’s better that way.

He started toward the stairs, making a decision to wait in his room until all of his family members arrive. He wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone or see anyone for that matter. He just wanted to be miserable.

Walking up the stairs, he silently thanked aunt Muriel for saying what she did. She was right and someone had to tell him the truth, no matter how much it hurt. He just wished she would say that a few weeks ago before he really started falling for Theodora and perhaps could avoid getting his heartbroken.

Now. Now it was too late for that. It’s been done.

—

“Come on, Bill! We have to get ready and we have to talk to Charlie!” Bill sat up on his bed when Fred started banging on his door.

“I’m coming!”

What was all the rush for?

He looked at his alarm clock and realized it was half an hour before the first game starts. He has been staring at the ceiling – his mind completely blank – for 4 hours. At least he didn’t have to interact with anyone.

He got dressed and made his way downstairs.

“Hi, Lee. What are you doing here?” Bill greeted the boy who was pacing up and down the corridor, pieces of parchment in his hands.

“Oh, hi, Bill! The twins invited me to be the tournament commentator.” He said nervously and returned to his notes.

“That’s great.” Bill grinned but didn’t get a reply.

He wasn’t at school anymore when Lee became the match commentator but the twins spoke about him often and always said he was really good so he couldn’t wait to hear him commentate on the game.

“There you are!” Before he knew what was going on, he was dragged outside by George.

George made him stop next to Theodora who was standing next to Fred, Ginny, and Ron – them all making a circle around Charlie.

“What is this? An intervention?” Charlie chuckled nervously. “Am I talking about dragons too much again?”

“Charles Weasley...” Fred said in a deep dramatic voice.

“We are gathered here today...” George followed his lead.

“To ask you something really really important.” Theodora sang as if in a musical.

Charlie was turning around to face each one of them, blinking confusingly, not having any idea what was going on.

“Will you be our Quidditch Captain?” Ginny asked in her sweet voice, making puppy eyes.

“Aww, that is so adorable!” For a second Bill thought Charlie was going to cry.

It was a nice thing his siblings did – asking him like this. Charlie might love his job in Romania but Bill knew he missed playing Quidditch and was proud to announce to anyone that asked him that he was captain while at school.

“Of course! I would love to!” Charlie jumped in the air and gathered them all into a bear hug.

“Now listen, you lot,” Charlie’s voice changed from high pitched excited one to serious the second they broke apart, “we are going up against the strongest teams in our family! We have to be focused, we have to stick together, and most importantly,” he smirked, “you have to listen to me.” He pointed his thumb at his chest.

“Five teams are competing – Aunt Muriel’s Army, The Prewetts, American Weasleys, the Twice Removed Cousins, and The Best Weasleys.” Charlie’s eyebrows were almost touching, that’s how focused he was.

“In case you’re wondering, we’re The Best Weasleys. Now,” he clapped his hands, “The Prewetts will play against the American Weasleys first. Then Aunt Muriel’s Army will play with the Twice Removed Cousins. Then the winning teams will play with each other and the winners get to compete against us.”

“If anyone is wondering why we seem to have no competition,” Charlie looked at Theodora who had the biggest grin on her face finding his speech as amusing as everyone else, “it’s because we won last year and winners just have to defend their title. We are the best Weasleys after all.” Charlie lifted his chin proudly.

“Anyone have any questions?” He asked and locked eyes with each one on his team.

Nobody dared to move a muscle. Bill never got a chance to see Charlie become the Quidditch Captain but he couldn’t deny that he was impressed. Charlie always messed around and seeing him so serious was a nice change of scenery.

Bill couldn’t stop sneaking a look at Theodora even if he wanted to. Her eyes were full of sparks looking at Charlie speak. She joined the team in Charlie’s last year and Bill knew that she not only admired him but missed him as a captain as well.

“Good! Everybody knows their position?”

They all nodded immediately.

“Great! Then go grab your gear, we have a tournament to win people!” Charlie started clapping his hands, gesturing to everybody that they should move.

Bill sat next to Ginny on the ground, waiting for the match between Aunt Muriel’s Army and Twice Removed Cousins to end. The Prewetts made complete fools out of American Weasleys, which wasn’t all that surprising since in the USA they barely play Quidditch and it showed on the pitch.

To distract himself from the fact that Theodora was sitting on his other side, Bill tried to focus on Lee who was commentating on the game. He was brilliant. Fred and George were right – he was good! He hoped that he will act upon his talent and that he’ll be able to hear him commentate on one of the future Quidditch World Cups.

“The Snitch has been caught! Aunt Muriel’s Army wins!”

Aunt Muriel stood up from her chair, where the family members that weren’t playing were sitting and cheering and started clapping loudly.

“Blimey, they are good this year.” Bill heard Fred whisper to Charlie behind him.

“Nah, they don’t stand a chance against The Prewetts.” Charlie calmed him down.

“That isn’t exactly encouraging for us if we have to go against them later,” George said.

“Come on, where’s your confidence?” Charlie nudged them with his shoulders. “You have me as captain and the Seeker and Theodora is an amazing Chaser and I have no doubt that you won’t destroy them with Bludgers and you said it yourself that Ron is getting better.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” George grinned mischievously.

“We are going to destroy them.” Fred agreed.

—

“That was a rough defeat for Aunt Muriel’s Army. 230 – 20 for The Prewetts and the game is over!”

Aunt Muriel wasn’t cheering so loudly anymore – she hid behind her hat instead.

Charlie was right. Despite Aunt Muriel’s Army doing their best, they didn’t stand a chance against The Prewetts. The twins hoped that Charlie was right about beating them too. They simply can’t lose, not at their home!

“Bill, you’re in-game spirit yet?” Charlie put his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, making him turn around.

“Of course, let’s go beat their arses!” Bill thrust his hand high in the air and felt Theodora giggle next to him at his words.

“See, you’re not as stuck up as you appear to be.” George winked at him.

“That’s the Bill we know and love!” Fred put his hands on Bill’s shoulder and shook him, making Bill playfully roll his eyes.

“Let’s go, team! It’s time to win this!” Charlie roared and ushered them all to the pitch.

They barely mounted their brooms when they could already hear Arthur Weasley cheering loudly in his chair. Molly Weasley stood up and started clapping with the biggest smile on her face.

This was the one event that brought the whole family together like this and it didn’t matter if they made fools out of themselves and they didn’t care how the rest of the family was looking at them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were proud of their children and when better to show it than while playing Quidditch at the Burrow.

“Witches and Wizards, welcome to this year’s Weasley Tournament Finale!” Lee shouted into his microphone.

“We have The Prewetts, who won two games today and they did a great job, they sure deserve to be in the finale!” Lee admitted. “They are going against The Best Weasleys who have been holding the winner title of this tournament for 3 years now!”

“Will they be able to defend their position and stay on top or will the Prewetts become the new champions?”

A man with the curliest and reddest hair Lee has ever seen opened the chest in the middle of the field and let out the balls.

“The Snitch and the Bludger are out! Quaffle goes to The Best Weasleys and Ginny Weasley is already making her way with it toward the hoops!”

Lee watched Ginny sneak between two Beaters of the opposite team. She was still young but she showed exceptional talent. Because she was the youngest player, they didn’t take her seriously and she flew right past them straight in front of the other team’s Keeper.

“And Ginny scores the first goal! What a performance! The Prewetts sure didn’t see that coming!”

“Charlie Weasley – the former Gryffindor Quidditch captain and Seeker – is already after the Snitch! But what’s this now,” Lee gasped, “the Prewett’s Seeker is trying to knock Charlie off his broom. The Prewetts decided to take revenge for the first goal!”

“Fred and George Weasley are trying their best to stir the Bludger into the Seeker’s direction but they have to be careful not to hit their brother!”

Lee was shaking in his seat. The games at Hogwarts were intense sometimes and he always had so much fun commenting on them but this was something else. Family members competing against each other and seeing the Weasleys play together was like a dream come true. So many generations, so many amazing Quidditch players.

“Bill Weasley has the Quaffle now, but two Chasers from the opposite team are right on his tail!”

“Bill, watch out!” Bill turned to see George about to smack the Bludger in his direction.

He leaned forward to gain speed and got away just in time.

“What a performance from George Weasley! He knocked that Chaser right off his broom. This allows Bill to score, will he be able to do it?”

Lee stood up now, the excitement running through his body simply didn’t allow him to sit still any longer.

“Oh, no! George might have knocked one Chaser to the ground but the other two look like they won’t show any mercy to Bill!”

“Bill, over here!”

Bill barely dodged the Chaser that stopped right in front of him, wanting to trip him and looked to his left. Theodora was waving her hand and pointing to the hoops. Nobody was after her – all the attention on him. He gripped the Quaffle and lifted his hand.

“Bill passed the Quaffle to Theodora Cork, who is a remarkable Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team at Hogwarts, and she scores!”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were now both standing up and jumping in the air, cheering louder than before. The American Weasleys and the Twice Removed Cousins were also cheering for The Best Weasleys.

“The Bludger is now following The Prewett’s Seeker, giving Charlie Weasley a chance to go after the golden ball!”

Lee couldn’t help but wish that all Weasley siblings could play at school. He can’t remember when was the last time he had so much fun but was on the edge of his seat at the same time.

“Bill Weasley is the one who scored this time! 60 – 30 for The Best Weasleys!”

Charlie was proud of Bill for scoring. He knew the most how nervous he was to play since he played Quidditch the least and can’t remember when the last time he used a broom was. But he had no time to show it. They might be leading by 30 points but it was time to end this and win for the fourth year in a row.

“Ginny scored again! I dare to say that she will join the team at Hogwarts soon! She is too talented not to do so!”

Ginny’s cheeks turned pink at Lee’s words. She was proud of herself and she finally got the opportunity to show herself on the broom.

“Charlie caught the Snitch! Charlie caught the Snitch! The Best Weasleys aren’t called the best without a reason! They are the champions of this year’s tournament!” Lee tried shouting in his microphone while jumping up and down.

Molly and Arthur were jumping in the air, embraced, waiting for their children to get off their brooms so they could go and congratulate them.

“Take that, Prewetts!” Molly turned to the family who was sitting behind her and stuck out her tongue.

“Mollywobbles, you are a Prewett,” Arthur whispered in her ear, gently.

“Not when my children just won a spectacular match!” Mrs. Weasley cupped her husband's face, kissed him hard on the mouth, and ran toward the kids.

Mr. Weasley stood still for a second, astonished how into the game his wife got and then ran after her.

“We won! We won!” Ginny, Ron, and Theodora were jumping in the air.

“This was amazing!” Fred and George high-fived.

“Why do we only have this tournament once per year?” Charlie stepped to the group, the biggest proud grin on his face.

“I’m proud of you, brother.” He hugged Ron and got a smile in exchange.

“Gin-Gin! Since when are you a professional Quidditch player!” Charlie rushed to his baby sister, hugged her around the waist, and lifted her high in the air, making her giggle.

“Theo, you were brilliant!” Fred and George squeezed Theodora into a hug sandwich.

“Ginny was better! We have to get her on our team!” Her eyes were on Ginny who was now put down by Charlie because Molly started to give him warning looks for lifting her so high.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so proud of all of you!” Molly hugged her eldest son so tightly that he couldn’t breathe for a second.

“You showed those Prewetts what’s business!” Arthur grinned at the lot.

“We are the best Quidditch family.” Mrs. Weasley squeaked in excitement.

“You weren’t as bad as you deemed yourself to be.”

Bill turned around to see Theodora smirk at him. He couldn’t help but return the smile. The last time they were stargazing together they talked about the tournament and Bill expressed his concerns when it came to his gameplay. He didn’t think he did much, he only scored once but for him, the achievement was already that he didn’t fall off his broom.

“You were better!” He stepped closer to her and pulled her in a hug.

Theodora stiffened, not expecting Bill to hug her. He never did that before. They never hugged before. It felt nice and she didn’t care at that moment what anybody around them would think so she relaxed, closed her eyes, and hugged him back.

“Oh, stop it.” She mumbled into his shoulder.

She didn’t want to let go of him because her cheeks were bright red and it would be a miracle if Bill wouldn’t notice.

“I’m serious. You’re really talented.” Bill gently pulled away, his hands on her shoulders.

He was praying that she couldn’t hear his racing heartbeat. He had no idea what got over him – pulling her in a hug. It just seemed fitting and it felt so right. How could it feel so right?

He was watching her fly on that pitch as if there was nobody else there. And to say that he had fun playing Quidditch was an understatement. It was pure adrenaline when he passed the ball to Theodora and he can’t recall ever having so much fun at the tournament before. Perhaps it was because Theodora was a part of their team.

He was in awe of how good she was. Charlie kept saying it and the twins told him in many letters but he didn’t know just how much talent the girl in front of him had until he saw it for himself today.

She was brilliant. In every aspect. In everything she did. He embraced her again. He couldn’t keep looking into her eyes and he didn’t know how to make her turn around or step away from her.

At that moment he didn’t care who was around them and who could see them. He wanted to celebrate the fact that they won and he wanted to do it with her.

He gently pushed her away when he heard whistling. He saw Fred and George standing in front of them, clapping and raising their eyebrows up and down. Theodora just giggled, trying hard not to look at Bill, who was flushed.

He took a step backward. Suddenly, everything that he heard aunt Muriel say in the morning came back to him and the disappointing feeling that he once again gave in to his feelings overwhelmed him.

He has to stop doing this. He has to stop thinking about her in this way. Wanting to spend time with her – to talk to her – to be with her. It was wrong and he can’t be so weak and keep crossing the line. It’s not fair to her and he’s definitely not making it easy for himself.

Remembering that the tournament is over and that he can soon go home made him feel better. He can go back to Egypt and forget this summer ever happened. It’s for the best. It’s not like he can do anything about it anyway.

—

“Do you have the beer?” Bill whispered.

“Yes.” Charlie lifted a six-pack with his right arm.

“Do you have the non-alcoholic beer?”

“Yes.” Charlie lifted the six-pack he was holding with his other arm.

“Okay, I’ll go find the twins and you go to Ginny’s room.” Bill pointed at the door ahead of them, where Ginny and Theodora were sleeping.

“You go wake up your girlfriend.” Charlie put the beer down in front of Fred and George’s room, ready to go inside.

“She’s not my...” Bill sighed and rolled his eyes. “...never mind.”

He knew that no matter what he says, he won’t win an argument against Charlie. He turned around instead and tip-toed to Ginny’s room. He carefully opened the door, ready to find them both sound asleep, but Theodora was reading a book, the room lit by her wand.

“Hi.” Bill smiled awkwardly at her.

“Hey.” Theodora waved.

She lowered her wand and closed her book without marking it. As if she could concentrate on reading. She was so into her thoughts that suddenly seeing Bill made her heart go crazy.

She was trying, she really was. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Bill hugged her twice after the match. She kept thinking how good his arms around her felt and how proud he looked of her.

Her thoughts also kept getting disturbed by what she overheard aunt Muriel say to Fred and George this morning. Of course, she agreed with her. The age difference between them was too big but she didn’t have to be reminded of that. Not when she was having so much fun with him for the past few weeks.

She got to know Bill so much better and it seemed he was getting more relaxed around her and he trusted her more. It felt nice. She might be hiding and denying her feelings but at least she can be his friend.

That didn’t mean that what aunt Muriel said this morning didn’t hurt her. It did. Every time they were together and their hands brushed, or their shoulders touched, she was already reminded of the fact that Bill will never see her more than a friend, and each time she couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different if she was older. If only she was the older one in her family and not Eric.

“Is everything okay?” Theodora asked after swallowing hard.

She was doing it again – staring at him like an idiot.

“Yes...uhm...we...I mean Charlie and I...” Bill scratched his head.

Why was this so hard? He was getting good at talking to her but he couldn’t take the way she was looking at him – her eyes full of wonder and excitement for what he has to say.

He took a deep breath. He has to get it together, he can’t be so weak around a girl – around her.

“We want to celebrate today’s victory and I...I mean we were wondering if you would like to join us?”

Could he sound more hopeful that she’ll come? If Theodora wasn’t looking him straight in the eyes he would’ve rolled them, that’s how annoyed he was with himself.

“Sure. Let me just put something else on than my pajamas.” She chuckled and stood up.

“Of course, I’ll wait for you outside.” Bill chuckled too and closed the door behind him.

“That was smooth.”

Bill glared at Charlie who was giggling, walking past him going toward the stairs.

“Give me a break, Charles,” Bill whined.

He wanted to smack him over the head. It was already bad that he couldn’t talk normally to her but Charlie had to hear how awkward he was. He was counting the days to return to Egypt now.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Theodora closed the door behind her, careful not to wake Ginny.

“Where are you taking me?” She turned to Bill with the biggest smile on her face.

She looked as excited as if they were going on a vacation.

“We are going to the roof.” Bill cleared his throat and gestured for Theodora to follow him.

“Theo!” The twins exclaimed when they saw that Bill brought her too.

“Did you two finish your make-out session?” Fred winked at her and George started laughing so much that he almost fell off the roof.

Theodora hit both of them in the shoulder, ignoring their teasing, and rolled her eyes.

“Beer for me and Bill.” Charlie handed one to Bill. “And nonalcoholic for you three.” He tore open the box and gave each a bottle.

“Why do we get a nonalcoholic beer? We’re 17!” Fred frowned.

“Yeah, we’re of age.” George followed.

“Because mum would have our heads if she found out we gave you alcohol,” Bill explained.

“So unfair.” George sighed and opened his bottle.

The second he tasted the bubbly beverage a smirk appeared on his face and he exchanged a look with his twin. Fred put a finger over his mouth to indicate that he should stay quiet.

Theodora couldn’t believe how much fun they were having. She has never been on a roof before, let alone have a little party on it. She was laughing so hard as Charlie tried imitating one of their relatives when they realized they lost.

He did a perfect impression. The Prewetts were really mad that they lost. She, of course, thought that they didn’t stand a chance. They were playing well, she had to give them that but the Weasley’s were so good at Quidditch and had so many talented kids on the broom that she kind of felt that they overpowered the other team but she didn’t care. They won and the whole family was so happy about it and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

—

Theodora was sitting next to Bill and Fred, looking down at her second – now empty –bottle. She looked at the sky and felt as if the stars were dancing in front of her. She closed one eye and then the other one. She then closed them both at the same time and squinted hard, thinking she was just sleepy.

She opened them up again and now she wasn’t just seeing dancing stars but was dizzy too. She looked down at her bottle again and tried reading the label but Fred almost rolling down the roof distracted her.

“Gogie, did you see...that.” Fred hiccuped and then laughed as if he has never laughed before.

He was clutching his stomach, laughing at Bill’s face who grabbed his shirt just in time for him not to fall off.

“Do it again. Feddie...again.” George put his head between his legs, trying hard not to laugh.

Bill narrowed his eyes, looking at his brother’s sudden change in behavior. He then looked at Charlie who was observing them with his eyebrows raised and alert, ready to catch them again in case they try something funny.

“Can I just see something?”

Bill turned to Theodora who was blinking, looking at the fingers on her hand.

“Mhm.” She mumbled and gave Bill her bottle.

“Charlie.” Bill hissed, making Charlie look at him. “This is not non-alcoholic beer.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie stood up at once and took the bottle from Bill.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Charlie whispered to himself.

“You said you had non-alcoholic beer for them!” Bill glared at his brother.

“I...I was sure it was. Bill, I swear.” The panic on his face grew larger.

Bill sighed. Charlie obviously made a mistake. He knew he was grown-up enough not to get his younger siblings drunk on purpose and on the roof too.

“What are we going to do?” Charlie started biting his lip nervously. “Mum will kill us if she finds out.”

“She won’t.” Bill pursed his lips, trying to think of something quickly.

“We’ll wait on the roof until they sober up a bit and then we’ll take them to bed.” He said after a minute of thinking.

“Ha-ha, we knew.” George was laying down now, still laughing.

“Knew what?” Bill turned to him.

“We took a sip, we knew it was beer.” Fred elaborated.

“You knew?” Bill frowned.

How could they be so irresponsible? He knew that this probably wasn’t the first time they were drunk. He attended Hogwarts, he remembered the parties that happened in the common rooms. But this was different – he and Charlie got them drunk. They were supposed to be responsible for them.

“Of course, they knew.” Charlie rolled his eyes.

For the first time since the summer started, Charlie seemed annoyed by something the twins did. It was one thing to make mum mad and to create dangerous products in their room. Being drunk wasn’t funny, especially them being on a roof and Bill knew that Charlie was just as worried about them as he was.

“I go sleepsleep now, Gogie.” Fred laid down on one of the blankets they set up and covered himself with another one.

“Wait for me, wait for me!” Fred didn’t walk to his twin brother – he jumped to the spot.

For a second Bill was sure he was going to have a heart attack.

Charlie carefully watched his every jump, his whole head moving up and down with Fred’s action. He was so pale that Bill was sure he was going to throw up.

“How are you feeling?” Bill turned to Theodora, taking off his jacket and putting it around her.

“I’m fine. A bit dizzy.” She smiled gently.

She was adorable. Bill wanted to pull her toward himself, so she could lean on his shoulder but thought better of it. She is sitting next to him, he can keep an eye on her without the gesture.

“I didn’t know that the beer wasn’t non-alcoholic.” She looked up at Bill with the biggest apologetic eyes.

Bill wanted to melt, that’s how cute she was. He couldn’t be mad at her, even if she told him that she was the one who gave them the beer.

“I know.” He whispered to her and tried his hardest to keep a straight face but he never could with her – she always made him want to smile.

It didn’t take Fred and George 15 minutes to start snoring next to each other. Charlie covered George with a blanket and sat down next to Bill.

“Well, this didn’t go according to plan.” He sighed.

“I’ll say.” Bill took a sip of his beer.

“So, you two are getting close.” Charlie nodded toward Theodora who was now snoozing on Bill’s shoulder.

“Charlie, give me a break. I told you she’s too young for me.” Bill whined.

If Theodora wasn’t leaning against him, he would get up and leave. He can’t have this conversation again.

“You’re on this again,” Charlie rolled his eyes, “I thought you were over your age difference.”

“I heard aunt Muriel talk to the twins this morning and she said she’s too young for me. I knew I should’ve talked to someone else than you gits.” He frowned.

“Oh, come on! Who listens to aunt Muriel?”

“Charlie, seriously, give it a rest. This is killing me as it is.” Bill looked down at Theodora, wishing he didn’t – she was so beautiful when she was sleeping.

“If the age bothers you so much all you have to do is wait for another 6 months. She’ll be 18 in January.” Charlie tried cheering him up.

“Do you know how creepy that sounds?” Bill cringed.

“Not really, no.” Charlie rubbed his chin, saying it again in his head. “So what if she’s younger? In a few years that won’t matter at all. Once we get to our twenties the differences between someone who is 21 and someone who is 29 are almost invisible.”

“Since when are you so smart about these things?” Bill raised an eyebrow at Charlie.

“I have a lot of friends who, for some reason, come to me for relationship advice.” Charlie chuckled.

“So, Mr. Advice-Giver, did you ever have a case like this?” Bill teased.

“No. But I have a friend in Romania who is 42 and he liked this girl who is 23 and everybody told them that she’s too young for him but he went for it anyway and they’re really happy together.” Charlie said matter-of-factly.

“That’s not the same, Charlie.” Bill pouted.

“How is it not the same?” Charlie asked puzzled.

“It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t feel the same way anyway.” Bill sighed and looked up at the stars.

“Seriously?” Charlie pressed his lips together.

“What?”

“I am prepared to bet that she not only likes you but has feelings for you.” Charlie nodded at Theodora, whose arm was now wrapped around Bill’s, her eyes still closed.

“She just fell asleep on my shoulder,” Bill said, annoyed with his brother.

“Right, and she constantly sneaks looks at you and she giggles at everything you say and she spends most of her free time with you or near you,” Charlie smirked.

“None of that is important. We can’t happen, Charlie. All the teasing and winking you and the twins do can only be in good fun. We can’t be together.”

Bill turned back to Theodora, looking at her longingly. The words hurt more than he would like to admit, especially because this was the first time he said them out loud, and now more than ever was he convinced that he was making the right decision.

“Alright,” Charlie gave up, “your heartbreak not mine.”

Exactly. It was his choice. He knows she is too young. And Charlie is delusional to think that she fancies him back. And there is simply too much distance between them once he goes back to Egypt. He has more reasons why they can’t be together, but right now, those convinced him enough to look away from her.

#harry potter fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley x oc #bill weasley imagine #summer at the burrow #bill weasley romance #fred weasley #george weasley #charlie weasley

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

Another addition to the Peter Pan AU concept I’ve done some stuff for...this time with Wendy!Carewyn as a ten-year-old, when she first met the shadow belonging to the Boy Who Never Grew Up, Orion Amari.

It all started when back in Neverland, Orion was called out to a private meeting with a pirate solely called Jack, who deliberately kept the meeting quiet from both the Captain he served and the rest of his pirate crew. He was the youngest of Captain Hook’s crewmembers, and yet still far too much of an adult for Orion to ever take into his ranks -- but it was what the pirate requested that so intrigued the eternal 12-½-year old. It seemed that even though Neverland had done its work and made Jack forget just about all of his previous life, including his real name, there was someone outside of Neverland who Jack did still remember...and that person was someone he now implored Orion to protect.

“Her name is Wyn. Or, at least, that’s the name I have...I feel like there was more to that name, once. The rest of the crew calls her ‘Winnie’ sometimes, but I don’t think that’s fully it either. Regardless...I know Hook wants to capture her, like he did me, and I...I don’t want her here, with him. I don’t want her to become a pirate. But I don’t know where she is, except that she’s in London. And as long as I’m stuck with Hook, I...I can’t protect her. So I’m asking you to find her first. She’s younger than me -- much younger, with ginger hair -- small and sweet as a cherub. She’s brave and sharp and she sings like a bird. She’d fit right in with your sort -- no one would have any idea she has anything to do with me. Just...spirit her away, like Hook did me. Take her with you, and keep her safe here, in Neverland. She doesn’t need to know I’m here, or even why you took her, just...just keep her away from Hook. Please.”

Orion cocked his eyebrows.

“And what will you give me in return?”

The pirate called Jack looked lost for words. His hollowed-out blue eyes -- so like Captain Hook’s and skull-like, even upon such a pale, handsome face -- rippled with desperation.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything.”

Orion’s black eyes grew a little smaller, examining the pirate critically. He’d never heard anyone, let alone a pirate, express that amount of caring about another person before. He looked after his Lost Kids, of course, so long as they chose to not grow up -- led them on adventures and told them what to do...but not even the fairies who had first brought him to Neverland ever expressed such...well, selflessness, before. It intrigued Orion enough to decide that maybe he would look out for this “Wyn” -- maybe she could be something useful, if Hook had such interest in her. And if she were still a child, then maybe she’d make a decent Lost Kid.

Orion flew around London off-and-on for about an Earth year (which felt more like a week or so, in Neverland), keeping an eye open for this girl called Wyn. It was the ginger hair that helped, as one day a mane of ginger hair caught his eye, and he followed it home to an entire ginger-haired family -- a poor clan called the Weasleys.

The mane of ginger hair Orion had seen belonged to the eldest of the Weasley children, a twelve-year-old named Bill, who had just finished up with his job as a newsboy, making deliveries for a late-night newspaper route. After he bounced his infant sister Ginny up and down in his lap for a while to make her stop fussing, he immediately set about telling his younger brothers -- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron -- all about his (in Orion’s opinion) perfectly boring day. Orion took stock around the room and, after seeing nothing but boys, was about ready to give up and look somewhere else when Bill asked his brothers about where someone named “Carey” was. The second-eldest brother Charlie responded with a mischievous smile.

“Just give a listen, and you'll know.”

And when everyone quieted, Orion likewise saw what Charlie meant. A voice was singing from somewhere upstairs -- a song that Orion had never heard, and yet contained a word he never would’ve ever thought he’d hear in London --

“Neverland.”

Immediately interested, Orion flew up toward the upstairs window, which had been left ajar. Somewhere in the next room, he heard the little bird-like voice singing, only being able to make out some select words.

“When there’s a smile in your heart...there’s no better time to start...”

The voice was moving down the hall. Orion felt the urge to try to sneak inside the house, but the girl’s singing being interrupted by a woman’s more maternal speaking voice made Orion falter, hiding just out of sight beside the window. It was Mrs. Weasley, Bill’s mother, telling the girl -- Carewyn -- to go ahead and leave the rest of the mending for tomorrow, since it was almost time for supper.

Carewyn, Orion realized as he heard the little girl dash away down the stairs. The pirate called Jack had said there was more to the name he remembered, once. “Wyn” had to have once been “Carewyn.”

Unfortunately for Orion, although he himself was hidden beside the window, his shadow, cast in the light of the streetlamps down onto the window ledge, was not -- and Mrs. Weasley, startled at what looked like something peeking into their window, immediately rushed over and shut it. Orion, alarmed himself at the abrupt slamming of the window, tore off into the night -- leaving his shadow trapped between the closed window and the sill.

It wasn’t until that evening, when Carewyn, Charlie, and Bill were getting ready for bed that Carewyn caught an odd squeaking sound coming from the window of the bedroom she shared with Bill and Charlie. It was, as it turned out, Orion’s shadow, which -- after Mrs. Weasley had left -- had started contorting and writhing in an attempt to escape from its place trapped under the windowpane. Upon finding the window locked for some strange reason, Carewyn enlisted Bill’s help in undoing the latch -- as soon as the shadow was free, he catapulted around the room, flying all over the walls with reckless abandon and stumbling over the shadow of everything in the room, even slapping the walls as if looking for something. Charlie and Bill both tried to catch it before the noise it made could alert their parents or younger siblings -- Charlie finally managed to snag his ankle when he jumped up high enough on his bed and yanked the shadow down with all of his strength so that Bill could grab onto him too. Carewyn, who’d refrained from trying to grab the shadow largely out of the desire not to hurt it, instead tried to reassure him.

“It’s terrified, can’t you see that?” she cried at Charlie and Bill at one point. “Why, a shadow isn’t meant to be completely alone -- and in a house full of strangers, no less!”

“It was stuck in our window, Carey,” said Charlie rather dryly. “I reckon we’re past being ‘strangers.’”

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, nor the person he belongs to!” huffed Carewyn.

Despite Carewyn’s instinct to coddle him, the Shadow Without an Owner was indeed too wild to be left to its own devices. Throughout that night and into the next morning, the shadow kept darting around the room, crashing into different shadows that in turn made the objects attached to them wobble or even fall over. At one point he even knocked over and almost broke the old table lamp by the armchair. It made all three children worry that the shadow was going to get them in a lot of trouble, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley found it -- but at the same time, all three of them weren’t sure if they wanted to share him with the two adults in the house. The shadow seemed incredibly reluctant to be seen, disappearing completely from view whenever Mr. or Mrs. Weasley popped up.

“He’s afraid of them,” said Carewyn, her voice full of empathy and concern.

Bill tried to offer the shadow a reassuring smile. “Aw, now, you really don’t have to be...Mum and Dad are great! I’m sure they’d be happy to help you, if you -- ”

But the Shadow Without an Owner stubbornly crossed his arms and settled himself down on top of the shadow of Charlie’s headboard with his legs and arms both crossed. He was not going to accept help from any grown-ups.

It was soon decided that Carewyn would look after the shadow while Bill was on his newsboy route and Charlie was at the canning factory. Since Mr. Weasley would be at work and Mrs. Weasley would be largely kept busy with two-year-old Ron and one-year-old Ginny, it was generally Percy and Carewyn’s responsibility to look after Fred and George and help Mrs. Weasley with the chores. And since Carewyn knew there was a lot of mending still to do, she decided she could take all of it upstairs and work on it in her, Charlie, and Bill’s room so that she could keep an eye on the Shadow Without an Owner.

The shadow -- who Carewyn had started just calling “Shadow,” since she didn’t know its owner’s name -- was quite restless, being stuck in one room the whole day. It kept skipping across the tiny bedroom, fluttering from the windowsill to the wall and back. It was peculiar to Carewyn that this shadow seemed to have no sense of gravity -- she had heard plenty of stories from her mother about an island where people could fly with a single thought, but she was sensible enough of a child to presume they were only stories, meant to cheer people up where they were sad.

Eventually Carewyn felt enough pity for the restlessly fidgeting Shadow that she offered to sing him a song or two, to help pass the time.

“I like to sing whenever I’m doing my chores for Mrs. Weasley,” she explained. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but...maybe it might cheer you up, since you’re stuck inside?”

To her surprise, Shadow seemed immediately interested. He skipped over the shadows of all three of the children’s beds over to the shadow of the armchair next to her. It hovered on the wall over the chair for a moment before it flopped down onto its stomach on top of the armchair’s shadow, its focus down toward her.

Smiling despite herself, Carewyn started to sing for Shadow.

“Think of a wonderful thought -- any merry little thought... Think of Christmas -- think of snow -- Think of sleigh bells...off you go, Like reindeer in the sky... You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

Shadow seemed captivated. He actually crossed his translucent arms and leaned his head down on them to listen, his feet absently kicking behind him, while Carewyn sang as she sewed. When Carewyn was done with one song, she’d start another, and Shadow would listen to all of them. The ones he seemed to like best, though, were the ones her mother Lane had taught her and Jacob, so long ago. The ones about that beautiful, make-believe land that had once captivated her and Jacob’s dreams.

Carewyn put down the blanket she’d finished patching up to look up at Shadow. His hands were clasped together as he watched her. Although he had no eyes or expression, Carewyn sensed he was considering her carefully.

“You like the songs about Neverland, don’t you?” she asked him at last.

Shadow nodded.

“My mum taught them to me,” Carewyn explained. “She used to sing them for my brother Jacob and me, when we were little...and then Jacob used to sing them for me, after Mum...”

The memory of her mother sick in the hospital, and of Jacob squeezing her tight in his shaking arms in a vain attempt to shield her from her grief, made Carewyn’s heart hurt. She brushed the end of her sentence away and put on her bravest face.

“Bill and Charlie like them too,” she said pleasantly. “Percy, Fred and George too, though Percy tries to act like they’re silly, sometimes. And Fred and George are kind of like you -- they’re more the sorts to want to get into mischief than just stay quietly indoors.”

She giggled behind her hand.

“Ginny likes them too... though I reckon it’s just because she likes attention, period, at the moment -- being a baby.”

Shadow seemed a little restless again. Carewyn surmised that he was losing interest -- but, she supposed, considering he couldn’t properly talk, conversations were bound to be less engaging for him.

“Mum had this pretty lullaby she used to sing for Jacob and me,” she offered. “She said she forgot the real words a long time ago, but the melody stayed with her enough that she sang it anyway. Do you want to hear it?”

Shadow’s head popped up, interested again, and he nodded. Carewyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed hard enough, she could hear her mother’s voice, singing it too...

“Once upon a time and long ago, I heard someone singing soft and low. Now, when day is done and night is near, I recall a song I used to hear -- ‘My child, my very own, Don't be afraid -- you're not alone... Sleep until the dawn, for all is well.’ Long ago, this song was sung to me... Now it's just a distant melody, Somewhere from the past I used to know, Once upon a time and long ago...”

Shadow actually seemed to settle down, leaning his head down on his folded arms again. When she was finished, he stayed still for a long time -- so long, in fact, that she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. After several minutes, though, Carewyn realized that Shadow was actually hugging himself tighter, hiding his face under his arms.

“Shadow?” said Carewyn, concerned.

Shadow raised his head, looking right at her. Once again Carewyn got the feeling he was examining her closely. Then, hovering weightlessly down off the armchair, it settled itself down on the wall behind her beside her shadow, crossing his legs and holding his own hands.

Carewyn tilted her head, looking over the shadow with pity in her eyes.

“...You feel lonely,” she murmured, “don’t you?”

Shadow didn’t answer. His focus was down on his clasped hands.

Taking the lack of response as good enough of one, Carewyn adjusted her knees under her, smoothing out the skirt of her one nice dress, and looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s okay if you do,” she said softly. “Everybody feels lonely sometimes. And...well, I s’pose being without your person must be very sad. I’ve never been without my shadow.”

Her eyes grew a little smaller and sadder.

“But...I do know what missing someone feels like...it feels awful.”

Shadow didn’t move. Considering her own shadow on the wall and then Shadow carefully, Carewyn tentatively brought a hand out so that her shadow’s hand ended up on top of Shadow’s clasped hands in his lap.

Shadow immediately bolted up off the ground in alarm, hovering in mid-air over her. It felt like he was staring. Carewyn likewise tensed up when he quickly retreated.

“I’m sorry!” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Shadow put his hands on his hips, almost looking faintly offended by the suggestion. He wasn’t frightened. Startled, maybe, but not frightened.

Carewyn felt herself smiling wryly despite herself. “Well, you did kind of react like a scared cat, just now!”

Shadow’s hands clasped in front of him and he leaned forward, looking down upon the smaller girl with an almost snarky posture.

Carewyn giggled behind her hand again.

“I must wonder, Shadow -- is the person you belonged to as odd as you are?”

Despite the dryness of the question, her eyes betrayed some genuine fondness as she returned to her sewing.

“Tender shepherd, tender shepherd...let me help you count your sheep...”

Somehow Carewyn managed to entertain Shadow that entire day until Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley returned from work that evening. Shadow even managed to stay a bit more subdued afterwards, only knocking over one table before Bill, Charlie, and Carewyn came up to bed for the night. When Mrs. Weasley came into the room to bid them goodnight (and Shadow hid behind the armchair to avoid being seen), she once again latched the window, instructing Bill to leave it closed that night. She hadn’t told Bill about the strange shape she’d seen at the open window the previous night, for fear of frightening him, Charlie and Carewyn -- a decision with some logic behind it, though she regretted it for quite a while afterwards.

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s words, however, Carewyn immediately got up and unlocked the window anyhow.

“Shadow’s owner might come back looking for him!” said Charlie when Bill tried to argue the point.

Carewyn nodded, shooting a look at Shadow, who had settled himself on the windowsill as if waiting.

“Your mum said to keep it closed,” she said stubbornly. “She never said we had to keep it locked.”

And so Shadow waited patiently by the window as the three ginger-haired children slowly fell off to sleep. It was just after midnight that there was movement outside the window again, and the Shadow Without an Owner leapt up seeing his other half -- the Boy Without a Shadow -- on the other side of the glass. Flying beside Orion was a pink-eyed pixie with yellowish-green wings bathed in sparkling gold light.

Orion fixed his shadow with a faintly resigned expression.

“You’re in a right pickle, aren’t you, my shadow?” he murmured.

Shadow’s shoulders fell noticeably as Merula shook her finger at him, her voice a huffy tinkling of bells.

“You’d better not have let anyone see you!” she scolded.

Orion reached out and gave the window a light pull. To his relief, it was unlocked, and he pulled it the rest of the way up so he and Merula could fly inside.

Merula at once set about exploring the room, landing on a pile of folded, patched-up clothes next to a modest stack of old stuffed animals.

“What a dump,” she scoffed.

She gave a light kick to one of the teddy bear’s noses. The kick, however light, nonetheless was enough to bring the teddy bear down on her, making the fairy jingle in frustration.

Orion idly lifted the teddy bear off of her without even looking at her, instead focusing on his shadow. Illuminated once again by the streetlamps outside the Weasley home, Shadow immediately darted further back into the room, hovering just over Carewyn’s bed and pointing frenetically.

"I know,” said Orion. “That would be the ‘Wyn.’ The one who sings like a bird.”

Shadow settled himself down on top of Carewyn’s headboard, looking down at her as she slept.

Orion frowned slightly upon his shadow.

“...You like her, then?” he asked lowly.

Shadow nodded.

Merula crossed her arms huffily, looking down at the girl with active disdain. “Look at her, though! She’s got the wrinkles -- those of knowing solemn things. She’s way too old to take...”

Orion took a few steps forward and considered the sleeping ginger-haired girl in the bed.

She was indeed as small as the pirate called Jack had said -- smaller than her age would suggest, Orion thought. She already had these little wrinkles kissing the corners of her lips, and yet they were a peculiar kind of wrinkles. They weren’t wrinkles of age, per say -- instead there was something almost warm, about them...like the kind of wrinkles a well-loved teddy bear has. It didn’t make her look tired or resigned like so many adults did, but rather oddly resilient. The girl wasn’t smiling in her sleep, and yet she still slept peacefully. Her dreams no doubt weren’t as carefree as Orion would like -- but they were not the dreams of a grown-up, either. There was still some weightlessness there, especially since this family she was with wasn’t even hers. She’d still likely be able to fly...

“...She’ll do,” Orion said at last.

“What?!” said Merula, taken aback.

Orion’s voice was very lackadaisical, but his eye remained on Shadow, who seemed oddly pleased by his decision. He even brought a translucent hand down and -- very tentatively -- patted the top of the girl’s own shadow’s head. It was a gesture that made Merula look at him with bewilderment.

“What are you doing, she’s not some little puppy dog for you to coddle!” she jingled at Shadow irritably.

“Come now, my shadow,” Orion said stridently. “Must work out how to restore our balance, before we set about making our proposition to this ‘Carewyn.’”

Shadow quickly bolted up and away from the sleeping Carewyn, looking almost sheepish. Orion glanced around the room, before his eyes settled on a drawer. Striding over, he opened it and ruffled through its contents until he found a bunch of sewing supplies, including a collection of buttons.

Aha. This might do.

Unfortunately buttons were indeed not what was needed, to properly restore a shadow. Orion tried to work them out several times, to no avail, but since the poor boy knew nothing about how buttons were fixed on to begin with, he couldn’t figure out how he could “button” his shadow to him the way two sides of a shirt could. Orion and Merula also tried several other things in the drawer, like some spare ribbon -- but since he naturally couldn’t tie his shadow securely enough to himself, he was left only with a bar of soap he found by the nearby basin, which he tried to use to stick his shadow on.

After about an half-hour of failures, Orion was starting to get anxious. What if he never got his shadow back on? Would he be stuck without a shadow forever? Would he have to chase after his shadow forever, the way his shadow used to for him? Would his shadow even be able to follow him back to Neverland, if there were no lights that would maintain his form? Would he be trapped here in London forever -- in this house forever?

“Orion?” Merula tinkled uncomfortably.

Orion actually found his eyes welling up with tears, though he tried to force them back.

He didn’t know what to do -- what was he supposed to do...?

A very quiet gasp from the bed caught Orion’s attention. Stiffening like a cat, he shot to his feet, his black eyes very wide.

Sitting up in bed was the little ginger-haired girl called Carewyn. Her eyes were very wide, almond-shaped and china blue -- the same shade, Orion realized, as those of the pirates back in Neverland.

The same shade as Captain Hook’s eyes...

And yet those eyes welled up with so much compassion upon meeting Orion’s.

“Oh,” she whispered, looking from the soap in his hand to up to his face. “Oh, please...please, boy, please don’t cry.”

#peter pan au #hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #my art #au #merula snyde #bill weasley #charlie weasley #molly weasley #jacob cromwell #lane cromwell #my writing

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rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Seven

It had been two days since she arrived at the Burrow for holiday.

Within that time Hermione has done her absolute best to avoid the entirety of the family. Well, specifically a certain gangly, freckled git.

Most hours she didn’t spend reading, the guilt was gnawing at her for being such an awful, unappreciative guest. She’d avoid meals when she could, but in the event she couldn’t evade Molly, Hermione would eat as quickly as she could before excusing herself.

Ginny, like her mother, was very perceptive and quickly caught onto what was happening. Oftentimes the girl would peel whatever book Hermione had been latching onto away from her hands and practically force her down the steps. And in the event Ginny successfully got Hermione to the living room, she’d just sit idly and watch the family interact, never interjecting herself.

Harry had stopped by from time to time, thankfully he never pried her from the bed, but surprisingly, he did make her talk. He knew, probably from Ron, of what Harry phrased as her ‘ridiculous’ plan to stay out of his way. When the conversation started turning to anything Ron, or even worse, Lavender related, she’d excuse herself and venture out into the garden.

And besides the three parties mentioned, no one really bothered her.

Fred and George did their best to get a laugh from her on the occasion she was downstairs. Mr.Weasley would greet Hermione warmly and ask if she’s heard from her parents.

She hasn’t. Not since the day after she arrived. They had sent a brief letter informing their daughter that they arrived in France, they loved her, and that they would write soon. Despite their silence, Hermione still wrote them everyday for any answers.

Bill, Charlie, and Fleur had just taken to small talk, but Hermione usually halted it, never allowing herself to get invested in conversation. Something she’d usually do.

And as for Ron, well, some nights Hermione swears she hears his loud, familiar steps shuffling outside the door as he whispers with Ginny. But, whenever the door opened, it was just Ginny and Ginny alone. These instances always disappointed Hermione for some silly reason.

Now, on the night before Christmas Eve, something she dreaded so much knowing she’d be unable to evade Mrs.Weasley’s insistence she join them, she sat in the garden.

Normally this is where she’d retreat if Ginny or Harry had taken to pestering her from the camp bed she was now seemingly glued to. Or often the contents of her prized book were too heavy, and the fresh air eased her. But tonight, she came out for a different reason. That reason being, the sight of her trunk had begun to make her sick.

Inside it held hope. Something she had lost months ago.

When her parents originally agreed to let her stay at the Weasley’s for Christmas (not under the pretense of a possibly dying Arthur), she was ecstatic. Immediately she began searching for the perfect gifts.

For Molly, she had found a lovely welcome mat with small embroidered stars around the thick lettering. It would look perfect on the front steps.

For Arthur, a Muggle alarm clock. It was both practical and for him, fascinating.

She had picked up a broom cleaning kit down in Diagon Alley. Harry was attached to his Firebolt, so Hermione figured he’d appreciate it. In addition, she had a picture printed of him and Sirius from last Christmas. The brunette just hoped she wasn’t over stepping with that one.

For Ginny she had gone with a few hair clips similar to the ones the ginger told her she liked over the summer. That and of course, a book on the best female quidditch players who ever lived.

Hermione had been perusing a Muggle shop before coming to the Burrow over the summer, and there were the perfect gifts for the twins. A Muggle joke book along with a bag of whoopee cushions. They were harmless, but would surely keep the pair thoroughly entertained.

Ron had informed Hermione early on about Charlie, Bill, and Fleur joining them for Christmas, so she was able to pick something up for them. For Charlie, she decided to go with something practical being this would be the first time they would meet. A few bottles of dittany (known to help burns and scratches from Dragons) along with a baby picture of Noberta, was what she had gone with. Bill and Fleur, being newly engaged, Hermione had gone with a joint gift. She had struck gold when she found a brilliant take on the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts shields combined. Something to remind them both of where they came from.

And as for Ron, well, now she was afraid her original gift may be too personal for where they stood right now. She had gotten the idea from a talk they had back in fourth year, when he was fighting with Harry...

“Where have you been?” Ron asked Hermione as she entered the common room. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just worried.

At this, she flushed red, “I was uh, talking to Harry.” At this he made a noise of disgust, “well I wouldn’t exactly call it talking.”

And for the briefest moment Ron paled, imagining the pair of them snogging.

“What do you mean?” He barely managed, fumbling over his words.

“Well,” she blushed again, “I mostly yelled and he well, he just stood there.” Hermione admitted sheepishly.

“Why’d you yell at Harry?” Not that he was opposed to the action.

And just like that she’s fired up again. Her hair crackles at the thought, “it’s completely unfair the way he’s treating you Ron! And I’m not going to let him get away with it.” She tutted.

He stared at her in amazement, “but you told me you didn’t think he put his name in.” He pointed out softly.

Hermione squirmed, “I don’t think he did, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat you the way he is. I suppose you tried to speak with him Ron and though I think he told you the truth, he didn’t have to be such an-” she paused, “he didn’t have to be so rude about it!”

“Bloody hell! You were about to swear.” The smile on his face only grew.

“No I wasn’t!” The brunette quickly defended, “anyway, he doesn’t understand it Ron. You’d think he would, you two are closer than I am to either of you.” Her voice dropped.

The smile he was wearing soon slipped, “that’s not true Hermione.” If only she knew...

At this, she remained silent, eyes trained on the fire.

“What doesn’t he understand?” Ron whispers after a moment.

Finally, her brown eyes meet his and she sighs, “Ron I know you better than you think I do.” If only he knew...

At this his face scrunched in confusion, imploring her to elaborate.

“You don’t particularly care if Harry actually put his own name in or not, you just care that he’s making you feel second best.” She whispered, worried he’d react in red hot anger.

Shocking them both, he merely gulped, “yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He admitted.

“Oh Ron,” she said sadly, “I don’t know how it feels, being an only child, but you have to know when I think of you, I think of you alone.” Hermione confesses bravely.

“What do you mean?” He dares to push her for more.

“I don’t think of how Bill may be a brilliant Curse Breaker, or how Charlie is bravely taming Dragons, I don’t think about how Percy was Head Boy and expect you to want that too. Even the twins, whenever you make me laugh, I don’t compare it to how much they make me laugh. Ginny too, she may be brilliant at Quidditch but that doesn’t make you any worse.”

He stares at her in shock, she takes this as confusion and goes on.

“What I mean is Ron, is that you’re you, Ronald Weasley, and I don’t want you to be anyone else. I don’t expect you to be like anyone else, alright? If I wanted to be best friends with any other Weasley I would, but I’m not, amI? Am I even making sense?” She rambles, desperate for him to speak.

Catching his breath, Ron nods and faces her, “I think I know what you’re trying to say Hermione.” A small smile finds its way across her face, “it’s just hard, when you’ve never had anything of your own, part of you feels like them. Does that sound mental?”

His mind flashes to all the robes, books, bed sheets, and toys he’s shared with his siblings.

In Bill’s old shoes, he feels like he has to be braver.

Whenever he’s reading one of Charlie’s old Charms books, he feels like he has to be daring.

In Percy’s robes, he has the sudden urge to make sure everyone’s doing what’s right.

When his Mum gave him a mixture of Fred and George’s old quilts, he felt like he had to make his dormitory laugh whenever he was nestled underneath them.

Even Ginny, his youngest sister, whenever he shared the family owl with her, Ron felt like his letter had to be an inch longer than hers.

“It doesn’t sound mental Ron.” She assures, and the look in her eyes conveys nothing but understanding, it warms his heart.

He huffs quietly, “Harry, I mean, he was my friend, and now, everyone’s gonna go around and want that too. And he’ll probably let them because what am I next to someone like Cedric Diggory?” He admitted.

“Hey,” her hand fell atop his knee making him look at her with wide eyes, “you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, I wouldn’t trade you for a dozen Cedric Diggory’s.” Hermione gave his knee a small squeeze.

And the action, the expression on her face, it all felt so sincere. So real.

Bravely, he grabbed her small hand from where it was resting on his leg and held it snugly.

“Thank you for yelling at Harry, it must’ve been wicked.” He teased with a light laugh.

A chuckle moved past her lips, “that’s not exactly the word the first years who watched would use.” She said blushing.

Ron beamed even more at this, imagining a feisty Hermione scaring away little first years as she took her anger out on the chosen one.

“Ron, I just wanted to let you know,” she’s looking away, suddenly feeling shy, “that if you’d have me you know, I’m yours. Just yours.” It’s nothing but a whisper, barely heard over the crackling fire.

The breath leaves his mouth so fast, it’s like a dementor’s kissing him. Quickly, he berates himself for allowing himself to think she means as anything more than friends. He’ll take it anyway. He thinks he’d take anything she has to offer.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “yeah I’d definitely like that.”

A grin etches its way across her features as she twines their fingers together.

They sat like that the rest of the night. Not letting go even when Dean and Seamus eyed them from nearby.

It wasn’t a grand gesture or declaration of love, but it was the start to the possibility of something more. And as Hermione spent the remainder of her night holding his hand as they talked in hushed whispers, Ron realized she could’ve been anywhere else. But instead, she was here.

And for the first time in Ron Weasley’s life, he felt like the first choice.

When recalling that night on the common room couch, something always stands out in Hermione’s brilliant mind.

The fact that Ron said he’d never had anything that felt like his own. So with that in mind and the ever growing feelings the witch had blossomed for him, Hermione decided on something bold.

It wasn’t exactly an ‘I love you’, but it was personal to him, and if he had cared that much about her to read into it, well he might figure out how important to her he really is. The fact that she’s cataloged just about every interaction they’ve had in the past six years.

Wanting to convey as much without spelling it out, she had found a lovely oak whittled Wizarding Chess set. And in the box that held it, she had gotten ‘Property of Ron Weasley’ carved on the top.

She’d even preemptively written the card:

‘Something to call yours, Happy Christmas Ron.

Love, Hermione.’

She had signed plenty of letters to him with those four letters, but part of her hoped that the note coupled with the gift may wake something within him. The possibility he feels the same way.

However, she knows now that isn’t the case. It can’t be. Not when Lavender Brown will be waiting for him when they return to Hogwarts.

So here she is, out in the garden, the Weasley’s garden no less, her precious book thrown aside, contemplating on whether or not she should give the gift.

The selfish part of her says no. Hermione tells herself he doesn’t deserve anything from her after how he’s made her feel.

Her morals scream otherwise. They’re telling her she’s the one who expected anything more than friendship from him and that she’s stupid to get so upset because he didn’t feel the same.

Weighing her options, Hermione makes the quick choice to just give him the damn thing. One last act of friendship. A goodbye of sorts.

She closes her eyes in pain, she just wants him happy, even if it kills her. And if that means distancing herself from him, then so be it.

For the smartest witch of her age, she sure is oblivious to the fact that inside, only meters away, Ron is feeling the exact same way.

...

“You know I don’t like how she just sits out there. She’s so far away.” Ron comments boldly from his place on the couch.

“Ronnie, she’s not that far, you can see her from the window.” Fred says.

“I don’t think he exactly meant physical distance.” Bill commented over the book he was reading, making the room laugh, as Fleur elbowed him harshly.

He blushes, “shove off! The lot of you, I just mean that things aren’t exactly safe.” He points out.

Ginny scoffs from the couch, “please Ron, the wards here are almost as tight as the ones at Hogwarts.” She points out.

Bill speaks again, “yeah, Dumbledore himself helped put them up. He came by here with Mad Eye over the summer while we stayed at Grimmauld place.”

Ron sighed, “you still don’t know, I mean, look at Charlie. He just waltzed on up.” He defended. Harry seemed to agree, but said nothing.

“Well to be fair Ronnie, I know exactly where the Burrow is, I reckon You-Know-Who and his followers could care less about where a bunch of pure bloods live.” Charlie pointed out.

“Technically, we’re blood traitors.” Ron commented.

They ignored this, “anyway, there is an apparition line, why do you think I walked up from the pond? That’s where it ends.” He reminds.

“Still it’s rather close and look at Hermione, she’s not far off from the pond at the edge of the garden.” The youngest Weasley boy says peering out the window again, watching as the witch reads that same damned book soundly under a tree.

The twins began to laugh, “you sound almost as paranoid as Harry over there.” Fred teased causing the dark haired boy to give him a small shove, but a grin played on his lips no less.

“Ickle Ronniekins just wants his girlfriend inside so she’ll finally talk to him.” George reminded.

Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to say something nasty to his brothers, before Bill stopped him, “even if someone did apparate we’d hear it first Ron.”

“Yeah,” Ginny chimed in, “we heard Charlie the other night.”

“Exactly.” The eldest Weasley agreed.

“Ron if you are so worried you could always go out there too, no?” Fleur suggested with raised brows and a mischievous smile.

At this Bill proudly kissed her cheek as the room erupted in snickers as the blonde joined the fun.

“Yeah Ickle, listen to the last, why don’t you go sit with her? Unless...” he began knowingly.

“Unless what Fred?” George asked his twin.

“Unless little Hermione would rather be taken by death eaters than spend time with Ronniekins.”

“That’s not even something to joke about Fred!” Ron boomed angrily, suddenly feeling faint at the idea of the likes of someone like Malfoy’s dad anywhere near Hermione.

“Alright.” Charlie said standing, “Ron, don’t you have reading to do or something?” He asks his heaving brother who looks like he’s about to pounce on Fred.

Surely, this calms his breathing, “right, reading.” He says gruffly, quickly exiting the room.

“Honestly, he’s so sensitive.” George mutters to his brother.

The room is still tense. No one speaks for a few minutes, and it’s Ginny who breaks the silence. Her eyes are wide as a somewhat amused smile strikes her lips.

“Wait, did you just say Ron’s reading?”

#ron x hermione #ron and hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #ron weasley #hermione granger #sixth year #hp fanfic #hp #romione fanfic #romione

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hpdabbles · 4 years

Note

Unlikely time traveler

Colin remembers dying.

He can close his eyes and recall the screams of both fear and furry, can see the spells be cast in a brilliant deadly show of colors behind his eyelids. He can feel the weight of his wand in his hand, as he is shooting desperately back into the dark as more and more death eaters invade the castle he once thought was where all his dreams could come true.

But most of all he can remember the spell that did him in. It struck him in the side, a burst of bright electric blue after pushing Dennis out of the way. He hadn't learned how to shield himself properly it seemed, because the spell ran right through the charm he cast, zapping his ribs and bursting them apart. The bones smashed against his organs and Colin fell.

His brother’s screams were the last conscious thing he was aware of.

Colin could only hope Dennis survived. He remembers a peculiar floating sensation overtaking him, going up and up and suddenly, there on the floor, was his body, just like Moaning Myrtle had described death to him when he during his third year.

For a second he wondered if he had been turned into a ghost, as he watched Dennis burn the witch had surprised them with an attack at their backs screaming in a sorrowful rage that he never has seen on his brother's face. The rest of the battle raged on in the background, nothing like the movies he used to watch.

There was no slow motion, battle music, or close up of the fallen bodies. It was a war. It was real. And Colin had not survived it. No one paid any mind to the now-dead witch or to the youngest Creevey dropping to his knees, sobbing like his world had ended.

He tried calling out to Dennis, but his brother did not hear him, rocking back and forth with Colin’s corpse in his arms. A Gryffindor he didn’t know saw them and raced over, she stood guard over his brother, firing at anyone who dared get near.

Colin was grateful, in the state Dennis was in his brother wouldn’t have been able to continue fighting. Both of them had snuck back into the castle and while dying at sixteen was horrific, Colin was glad that it was not as horrific as fourteen would have been.

Then in a blink of an eye, he was no longer at Hogwarts. It was such a change of scenery he actually felt whiplash, with how fast he twisted his head around.

Colin found himself in what resembled the old treehouse he had as a child, back before his family moved in summer of his third and fourth year, however it was foggy and almost dreamlike. As if someone had pulled it from his memories instead of it being the yellow color square his father painstakingly hammered together for him when he had been seven.

Sitting in the dog shape bean bag that Dennis had popped when he was eight was a man who looked awful like Harry if a few years older.

Seeing him caused Colin to swallow, he had known long ago, that his worship for the Boy-Who-Lived far passed a simple star-struck fan, but each time he saw Harry it reminded him of his pathetic crush. He knew, that he never had a chance, of course, Harry didn’t swing that way but it did nothing to stop his treacherous heart from skipping a beat none the less.

“Hello,” The man said and his voice forced Colin to realize that while they looked alike they were not the same person. His tone was all wrong. Harry had never sounded that smug, tiptoeing the edge of condescending. Though the mischievous way he grins did hold some homage to Harry’s smile.

“Hello,” Colin responds, keeping a distance as he is wary of him. The eyes are wrong too. They are hazel instead of the brilliant green he was used to. “How are you in my treehouse?”

“A treehouse?” The man hums looking around, tracing the wall’s pin-up pictures with one hand. He brushes a thumb over a picture of second-year Harry Potter flying during his Quidditch practice in a almost tender like manner. “I’ve never been inside a treehouse before. At least not a muggle one.”

Colin reaches for his wand.

The man catches the action and laughs. “Quite an excitable little thing aren’t you?”

Yes. All his life Colin had been easily excited, it made him odd, made it hard to truly fit in. Not with the muggle kids in his youth and not with the magical who rolled their eyes at his picture taking. He never meant to be annoying, but he couldn't help himself sometimes.

“Well, I guess we better get started.” The man says clapping his hands. He points behind Colin to where the rope latter rests against the side of the door. The young Gryffindor peaks at it in the corner of his eyes surprised to see it leads into a heavier fog instead of the backyard of his boyhood. “You have two choices. You can climb down and go.”

“Go where?”

“On” The man’s grin is sharp and taunting.

Colin doesn't think he’s very nice. “On where?”

“Where do you think?”

Heaven. Colin thinks as if though something in his very soul knew it to be true. He doesn’t say it out loud in fear this pureblood will take offense to his muggle-like reply. The man then points to the wall of pictures. “Or you can go back.”

“Back to where?” Colin asks.

“Back to there” He points at a picture of Ron Weasley being held up by Harry as he barfs up slugs. Colin remembers that day very well, he had been so amazed by the spell cast, not knowing at the time it wasn’t a magic trick performed as tricks of the eyes instead of actual magic as he first assumes, but a rather painful stomach-turning hex.

He hadn’t endeared himself to Harry that year having been too excited to be part of the magic world. He was still young.

He had not known the danger this new wonderful word where he finally had friends outside his brother, where his strangeness wasn’t strange at all, where he saw the most gorgeous boy he’s ever seen fly on a broom, his dazzlingly green eyes shining emeralds through his camera lens.

Colin doesn’t know what he would do now that he did.

“I just want you to know if you pick On over this I will never give you my blessings.” The man says cutting through his thoughts.

“Your blessing? What are you an angel? A real angel!?” Like always he felt rising excitement in his chest unable to fight the giggly feeling. He shouldn't be beaming at the maybe angel but he is.

Older Harry laughs. “You’re cute. No, I’m just a twenty-one-year-old father.”

It’s then that Colin recognizes him from the statue and pictures in the history books. His lungs feel like they have collapsed. “James Potter.”

James arches a brow, his hazel eyes swirling with amusement. It is the oddest thing to see because Harry is seventeen. Just three years off of when his father died. If Colin had survived three more years they would be the exact same minus the eyes. “What do you choose?”

What difference could Colin make? He wasn’t part of Harry’s group, wasn’t even part of the trio Neville lead who arguably keep the school together when the Golden Trio ran off to do who knows what to stop He-Should-Not-Be-Named. He wasn’t apart of any of the adventures, wasn’t strong enough to survive a war, wasn’t clever enough to build-up plans, just plain wasn’t enough.

He was just a goofy kid who couldn’t keep still with all his bottle up energy, annoying others with his lingering presence.

His eyes catch a picture of a laughing Harry, and he knows. Just as he knew that coming back to the battle what his answer is. “For Harry, I would do anything.”

James grins one last time and Colin blinks open his eyes to Ron hurling slugs. Harry is struggling to help him to his feet. He drops his camera without care to the way it clags aginst the grass or the laughing children that surround them, rushing forward to take Ron’s other side. “Let me help!”

Green eyes blink at him then they warm. “Thanks.”

Colin smiles back swearing that this time. This time, he won’t let those emeralds jewels dim over as the years go by, weighed down by all the trials and tribulations he would face.

Together they lead Ron to Hagrid’s hut.

Colin will send Dennis a letter later. He needs to tell his brother he loves him because he didn’t get a chance to on the battlefield. He doesn’t want to die again without regrets.

#hpdabbles #Unlikely propt meme #Unlikely Time traveler #Colin Creevey #One-sided Love #ColinXHarry #James Potter being a grim is not the most well explained grim #Limbo #Death #Anonymous

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thecrystalquill · 4 years

Text

The Wizard and the No-Mag

Chapter 6

Masterlist Series Masterlist

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“You ready? We should be leaving soon.”

It was Christmas Eve, and Fred and (Y/N) were preparing to head over to The Burrow for the family dinner; but both found themselves feeling nervous. “Just a second, I forgot where I put—”

“It’s in the draw next to the bed!”

“Found it!”

The two ran to meet by the door, (Y/N) tossed Fred his coat as she threw her own on her shoulders. She checked the time on the clock on the wall – if they set off now they might only be a little late. “Have we got everything? I feel like I’ve forgotten something.”

Fred shook his head, “No no, we’ve got everything, and if not I’ll just pop back, okay? Don’t worry so much.” He wrapped his scarf around his neck, and an arm around her shoulders. She huffed out a breath of nerves, taking the bag from his arms. “It’s gonna be fine, they’re all gonna love you y’know? Especially Mum – I’m just a little worried they’ll scare you off.” He laughed, resting his chin on her head.

(Y/N) shook her head, “Nah, it’d take more than that to get rid of me.”

They straightened up and Fred took her hand, rubbing his thumb over it comfortingly. “So I probably should’ve mentioned this earlier…” he started as (Y/N) gave him a curious look, furrowing her brows in suspicion, “erm… how do you feel about apparating?”

“Excuse me, what--?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

They landed not far from The Burrow, Fred (having apparated many times) only wobbled slightly, (Y/N) however, almost fell on her face, being held up by her wizard. She leant forward, with a heavy feeling in her stomach as she gagged. “Oh God… why… ugh…”

“Sorry love, I forgot how it feels the first time.” He answered as he rubbed her back until she stood straight.

As she did, (Y/N) took in her surroundings; the blankets of white over the fields, the crumpled leaves buried beneath snow and ice, and of course the amazing sight of the Weasley house; the layers of floor towering at different levels; it was magnificent.

“I-it’s not much but… y’know, it’s home.” Fred shrugged, feeling a little nervous now that they were actually here. He took a breath, and he took her hand; pulling her to his home.

That heavy weight came back to her stomach as (Y/N) stared at the door, her heart beating faster with each step. Then, before she could turn back, Fred opened the door.

Instantly, the smell of potatoes and meats and vegetables and cookies and God knows what else hit them in the face, a bold difference to the clean, cold air from outside. The bustling sound of voices and footsteps and children could be heard all around the house, lights and decorations were dotted about, a Christmas tree with an abundance of gifts to and from every family member and guest. Warm air swarmed them in a welcoming home-like feeling and the smell of hot beverages lingered on it. It was like an overload to the senses, and if (Y/N) could put the whole holiday into one picture – one moment – it would be this. Just as she was about to say something, to comment on the extravagant nature or the multiple magical objects or the faint smell of something burning, a cheerful voice interrupted her. “Fred! Oh, dear, it’s wonderful to have you back!” A short red-headed woman squealed, pulling her son down for a hug as if she hadn’t seen him in the longest time. (Y/N) stood a little behind him, watching the scene with a smirk; Fred blushing with embarrassment as his mother kissed his face, but hiding the smile that said he’d missed this just as much.

“Muuuummm…” Fred groaned, “stop it – I’m a grown man!”

“I don’t care how old you are.” Said the woman, sounding like such a typical mom. “Now tell me, where’s this girl I’ve heard so much about? You did bring her, didn’t you?” She asked, looking behind Fred’s shoulder to see the girl in question, then carelessly shoving him aside. “Oh! you must be (Y/N)! Wonderful to finally meet you, dear!” Then she pulled her into a bone crushing hug, clearly very excited.

(Y/N) tried to hug back the best she could, but with her arms trapped by her sides, it was a little difficult. “Muuum, let ‘er breathe…” She heard from beside her, just able to see Fred in the corner of her eye, covering his face.

She was released from the death grip around her a second later, getting a full view of the woman. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Weasley.” (Y/N) said, a little shyly.

“Oh, please dear, call me Molly.” She took the girl’s hand and brought her further into the house, Fred desperately trailing after them. “I just can’t wait for you to meet everyone. Arthur!” Truth be told, (Y/N) was feeling a bit overwhelmed, but was still quite comforted that his mother was so nice. “Arthur!”

A red-headed man came into view, grinning after a moment. “Ah! Yes, hello.” He said, then patted Fred on the shoulder before he introduced himself. “Right, yes, Arthur Weasley – lovely to meet you,” he put out his hand for her to shake, which she did, but then the man seemed to lose himself in a small burst of impatience. “So! Tell me, how is the muggle world? How is America? What exactly is a croc?”

(Y/N) stuttered a little to find an answer (and trying to recover from her immediate confusion) while Fred squeezed his eyes in (figurative) pain. Oh Merlin, someone please help…

“I heard the door, are they here?” A voice came as if on cue; Fred looking up to the ceiling with wide eyes suspiciously. A bushy haired young woman turned into the room, wearing blue jeans and a classy flowing black top – looking very beautiful, (Y/N) thought. She took in the scene, and Fred’s desperate look, and knew that this was the perfect time to interrupt whatever was about to happen. “You must be (Y/N), I’m Hermione.” The brunette informed, smiling kindly as they shook hands. “Why don’t I introduce you to everyone?” She sent a look towards Fred, then lead (Y/N) away from the clearly very excited parents, telling Molly that she’d be down soon to help with the rest of the cooking. Hermione took her up the creaky wooden stairs and, once they were out of ear-shot, gave her a brief explanation. “Sorry about that, they’re just really excited to meet you – Fred’s not brought a girl over before, apparently, but he’s probably talking to them about it all now. Anyway, George sent me a letter asking for my help, since the boys are usually completely clueless when it comes to these things. Their parents are really nice, just a little too much sometimes is all, but that’s why I’m here. The backup.” She concluded with finality, rushing it all out quite quickly and giving (Y/N) the impression that she was the head-strong type of girl for sure. “Any questions?” Hermione asked as they reached the first floor, hearing voices and ruckus from behind doors all the way up. (Y/N) shook her head, feeling that everything had been covered, then Hermione lead her to the first door. “Great, I figured you’d want to meet the girls first – believe me, in a house this full of men we’ve learned to stick together.” She sent her a wink then opened the door.

It was a bedroom, quite cosy, with a couple of beds inside where these women were sat. One with beautiful silvery blonde hair pulled into a bun, who looked just a little older than them, and a red-head who seemed younger. She assumed this was Ginny, the youngest and only girl, Fred talked about her quite admirably – though he would definitely hate it if she found that out. This woman stood quickly and embraced (Y/N) in a hug – much like her mother. “Hi, I’m Ginny, I've so been looking forward to meeting you!” She beamed as she pulled away.

“(Y/N),” she replied; truth be told, she wasn’t very sure on what to say, she’d never met a boyfriend’s wizard family before. Obviously.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After being introduced to some more of Fred’s siblings, spouses (such as a Harry Potter, who had a very smug look on his face), and some children that were also very excited to meet her and marvelled at her accent, trying to imitate it.

Soon she was lead into a living area by Ginny, Hermione having gone to help Molly as promised; there was a fireplace and sofas, with many people that she had already met sitting comfortably, and an old-fashioned radio was playing Christmas music that (Y/N) couldn’t recognise. Fred came up behind her and put a hand on her waist. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey.”

“How’d it go? They weren’t too much, were they?” Fred asked, still worried that someone would screw this up for him.

She shook her head and giggled. “No no, they’re great.”

“Good…” he mumbled. He looked a little on edge, (Y/N) thought, with his slightly creased brow and how he kept tapping his leg. “So,” he cleared his throat, “d’you wanna meet George? He… uh… he’s nicking some shortbread from the kitchen.”

She nodded eagerly; wanting to meet her boyfriend’s twin, his closest friend, his partner in crime. “Of course.”

Meeting his twin was… well it was pretty weird. George looked exactly like Fred, as she’d expected, but it was still strange. It was just so weird to see just how alike they were. “Hey! I’m George.” He’d said, shaking her hand and sending his brother a suspicious looking expression. “Well, (Y/N), I’ve heard so much about you. Seriously, so much. Like, a lot. It’s a miracle if I can get this one to shut up—”

“-George—”

“-Honestly, he talks about you a lot.” George said as he wrapped an arm around her and lead her away, Fred trying to chase after them and stop any embarrassing disasters. “I’ve basically already met ya’. Y’know, the only way I can get him to shut up is—”

“-George,” Fred’s face was beat red, redder than his hair, and he looked like he was about to combust. George started snickering as (Y/N) tried to contain her laughter, Fred pulled her back to him, resisting the urge to bury his face in her neck. “Anyway,” George laughed, “it’s good to meet ya’.” Finally, it seemed he’s had enough of torturing his brother. “You two are staying the night, right? Mum got our rooms all ready, the kids are all sharing a room, most of ‘em are sleepin’ on the floor. But anyway, looks like you’ll have to share.” He sent a wink and disappeared, probably to go cause some trouble elsewhere – some people just don’t change.

Fred groaned and buried his face in her hair, giving in to temptation. “Sorry ‘bout that,” He said, “he told me he’d be on his best behaviour, I just forgot to get him to specify what behaviour that was.” He pulled her back to the living room, where they squeezed onto a sofa and started to chat with others. It was nice, hot drinks where passed around with cookies and treats. Laughter filled the room along with the smell of hot chocolates melting in a pan from the kitchen.

After an hour or so, (Y/N) felt a small tug on her sweater sleeve. She looked down to see a little boy, about four or five maybe, with fluffy brow hair. “Hi,” she said curiously as the boy stared up at her.

“Hi…” he said, wringing his hands nervously as his hair took on a yellow-ish tinge, making (Y/N)’s eyes widen slightly. “I’m Teddy.”

“I’m (Y/N).” She replied sweetly.

“’Mione said you’re from America.” He mumbled shyly, but clearly very curious.

She nodded, “That’s right, (Y/S).”

“Whoa…” he whispered, making (Y/N) laugh quietly. “What’s it like there? I always wanted to see the… t-the Grand um… Grand Canary.”

Cute, thought (Y/N), ruffling his hair. “How about I take you some day?” She offered, then the boy smiled widely and his hair turned blue, shocking her. “How’d you do that?” She wondered allowed.

Teddy blushed lightly. “Uncle Harry says I’m a um… a metamomo… er… met…”

“Metamorphagus,” Fred offered from beside her, obviously having been listening in.

“Yeah,” Teddy said, his hair flashing back to brown for a second, then back again. “Is it true that in America they have cheese in bottles?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

By six o’clock everyone was sat at the dinner table, which had been extended (with magic of course) to fit both the many people and the many foods. Arthur had asked some seemingly ridiculous questions quite often, which (Y/N) tried to answer to the best of her ability. And whenever things seemed to get a little out of hand, Hermione would draw attention to something else or start a new topic of conversation; the backup, as promised. Even though they were a little much sometimes, (Y/N) really thought they were amazing. Mrs Weasley was so kind and loving, Mr Weasley was inquisitive and open-minded, Fred’s siblings were all so nice to her too, even Percy who she had been told was the grumpy one. Harry and Ron seemed to be very close, and both liked to joke around with her. Overall, this Christmas was going to be great.

So, after spending hours around the fire talking with everyone and sharing stories, (Y/N) and Fred were among the last to head up to bed. And with the house already being so full it meant that the two would be sharing Fred’s old bed, though neither of them were complaining – they were both adults after all. Crawling into the bed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake George, Fred wrapped his arms around her to fit them both in more comfortably. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the silence. Fred drew a hand over her shoulder lightly, checking that she was still awake. “So… how was it?”

“How was what?” (Y/N) whispered, eyes still closed.

“Y’know…” he replied softly, “meeting everyone.” He’d really hoped that this would go well.

“They’re great,” she said, reaching her hand behind her to stroke his, “I love ‘em.”

Fred released a breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, bringing her closer and kissing her hair. “Good.” He couldn’t see her face from this angle, but he could tell she was almost asleep. He couldn’t possibly describe how he felt. In his childhood bedroom, bundled under the covers with the woman of his dreams; sure it was a little chilly, the wind would occasionally rattle the windows, and his twin’s snoring was becoming increasingly annoying, but he’d never felt so content. And he couldn’t wait to wake up on Christmas morning just like this, and spend the holiday with all of his family. (Y/N) included. And he hoped for the same thing for the next Christmas. And the one after that. And the one after that.

“Love you, (Y/N/N).”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Tags:

@fantastic-fans

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@chickens-are-life

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siriuslytiff · 5 years

Text

Somewhere In-Between Ch. 4

Harry Potter Fic | Romance/Drama | Charlie/OC

She wouldn’t let him see her cry. He’d seen it plenty of times before – for multiple different reasons. He’d seen her cry tears of joy after winning the cup second year. He’d seen her cry angry tears when Snape had unfairly failed one of her essays. He’d seen her cry out of grief when she got a letter from home letting her know the passing of cousin she’d grown up with and was close to. He’d even let her cry on his shoulder that time while he rubbed her back, telling her everything was going to be fine. But she wasn’t going to let him see her cry because of him.

Read on FF.net or Ao3 or HPFF

Back at the Burrow – Charlie’s POV

1991- Charlie had two days at home to unpack his Hogwarts trunk, repack for Romania, and purchase all the necessary goods. The reserve really hadn’t told him to bring much. The most important thing was going to be some wardrobe necessities. He would need a new pair of dragon hide pants and gloves. Molly insisted he would need a new coat but Charlie reasoned that the weather wouldn’t be that different from England and he could get a new winter coat later in the year.

A new wand however – that was priority number one.

When Charlie got back from Diagon alley the evening before he departed it was to find an anxious Ron sitting in the living room. His brother had promised him a surprise when he got back. Charlie was sure Ron anticipated some sweets or small trinket. Charlie wouldn’t soon forget the look of awe as he handed his old wand over to his youngest brother. Charlie was sure Ron would soon realize what it meant that he was getting a hand-me down wand and not a new one of his own – but for this moment it was nice to see the boy smile as he was gifted something all his own – something he didn’t have to share.

“Charlie,” Percy said from his spot at the table. He as two days into summer holidays and already working on school work. “Some post came for you.”

Percy pointed to an envelope sitting on the end of the table. Charlie grabbed it up and immediately recognized the neat handwriting. Amelia.

He shoved the letter deep in his pocket and stalked upstairs. Once he was in his room and had deposited the bags on his bed next to his open trunk, he sat at the small desk once shared with his older brother and sat the letter down. He sat looking at his name for what felt like ages. He only left when his mother called for dinner.

The entire family made a point to be there for his last night at home. His mother kept spontaneously breaking into tears as the twins kept giving completely unneeded warnings to their older brother.

“Charlie, I read somewhere whatever you do, you should under no circumstance bathe in sheep’s blood and walk around in front a dragon. They’re easily confused, see?” Fred had said.

“Yes, and also,” George said around a mouthful of potatoes, “it seems they have quite sharp teeth, brother mine. So do try to avoid them if possible.”

“And the claws,” Fred said, giving an over exaggerated shiver, “some could pull you apart in one swipe, Charlie.”

“That’s enough, boys,” Mr. Weasley said finally when Molly gave a petrified wail and clung to her second born.

“It’s going to be fine, Mum,” Charlie wrapped his arm around his distraught mother, “They won’t even let me near the dragons for the first bit. I’ll be fine. And you’re already planning to come visit for Christmas, right? You’ll get to see first-hand I’m fine. And I’ll write. You’ll be sick of me.”

Mrs. Weasley sniffled but returned to her food. When Fred made to open his mouth, Charlie cut his eyes at his brother in a way that hopefully said, “Say one word and I will kill you.” It must have worked because the older twin instead took a bite out of a roll.

Charlie trudged up the stairs after dinner to finish packing his trunk. He purposefully ignored the letter on his desk.

After having packed all he could, he finally reached for the letter again. Without giving it so much as a cursory glance, he stuffed it between two books on the small bookshelf Bill had managed to squish into their already too cramped room.

Then there was nothing left for Charlie to do but drift off into a restless sleep.

1992- It was nearly a year later when Charlie made it back to the Burrow. He’d known his brother was having an interesting first year at Hogwarts, to say the least. The first letter he got in Ron’s messy scrawl was to tell him he’d gotten into Gryffindor and that he’d met “The Harry Potter” on the train. He’d informed him that school had been brilliant and that Harry had made it onto the quidditch team – and that McGonagall thought they had an actual chance at the cup this year.

It was comforting to have his family visit for Christmas Holiday – though he did miss the youngest of the boys. He’d wanted to hear first-hand what it had been like for him to start at the school. But he was immensely proud of him for staying with his friend who would have otherwise been alone for the holiday. Molly got a little misty eyed when she had told him and assured Charlie she’d made “the poor boy” his own sweater as well.

The next he heard from his youngest brother was to ask for him and some friends to find a way to sneak onto school grounds in the middle of the nightto rescue a dragon. When he continued to read and find out that Hagrid was involved, Charlie wasn’t surprised.

It wasn’t long after the rescue he received a letter from his mother advising him that Ron had been in some sort of accident at school. He was okay but had taken part in some sort of risky task to retrieve something from deep within Hogwarts. Charlie had a flashback to his own time dealing with the Cursed Vaults at school. Charlie wrote back immediately saying he’d try to get some time off when he comes home for a few days.

When he made it back it was to find his older brother already lounging on his side of the room, book open as he relaxed.

“Didn’t know you were coming,” Charlie said as he threw his rucksack on his own bed. He sat down and began to unlace the heavy boots.

“Why are you hiding mail in my books?” Bill asked. Charlie knew it wouldn’t be a joyous reunion for the two oldest brothers - they’d actually seen each other multiple times while Charlie had been in Romania – but Bill’s blunt question still caught him off guard.

“What- “

“Found that stuffed in my copy of ‘Curse Breaking of the 5thCentury’.” Charlie saw the small envelope he’d received last year sitting on their desk again.

“Dunno,” Charlie lied as he moved to his other boot, “Ginny must’ve shoved it in there.”

“It’s a good thing you deal with monsters all day,” Bill said as he closed his book. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed and mirror his brother, “Because you’re a shit liar.”

“Don’t call them monsters,” Charlie said gruffly and then added, “I’m going to check on Ron.” And he left their shared space. Honestly, fuck Bill. He was only two years older but had the infuriating trait to walk around like he was wise beyond his years. And it was especially frustrating when his brother read him like an open book.

Though Charlie had assured his mother it would be a long while before he actually interacted with the dragons on the reserve, that had not been the case. Charlie hadn’t shared with his family (save for Bill) that after only about 6 months of classroom training, he was released to start working with the creatures. He did his best to keep it hidden when his parents came to visit for Christmas and had to be creative those few days he was home to hide his scars – as well as the tattoo of the Horntail that had the tendency to move its way down his right arm. His senior dragonologists on the reserve said he had a “knack” with the dragons and he was the first recruits to be given an actual shift to care for the creatures.

When he got back to the reserve from his stay at home he found he was promoted to the position of “Handler” – one of the youngest the reserve had seen in fifty years according to Doris Runcorn the lead dragonologist on the reserve.

1993- The following summer he found himself taking time off again to take a family trip with the entire Weasley clan to Egypt. The night before their departure he once again found himself in his old bedroom looking at the familiar, unopened envelope sitting on his desk. He had a feeling Bill had found the last hiding place – stuffed in an old shoe under his bed – and placed it there. It had been two years since he’d received the letter and there was a desperate part of him that wanted to open the it and pore over the contents. However, there was another part of him that argued they should just tear the letter to bits and be done with it. He decided a happy medium was stuffing it in one of jacket pockets in the bureau.

1994- The following summer he found himself once again at home – this time for the entirety of the summer. He’d been granted permission for leave for his extensive work he’d been doing to prepare for the upcoming Triwizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts – and his future involvement in the competition. He was going to be lead on the task that delivered the four dangerous creatures to the Hogwarts grounds. His superiors thought that merited some extended time off.

He met Harry that summer and was pleased to find him to be an extraordinarily ordinary boy. Charlie enjoyed spending time with his younger siblings, playing quidditch in their makeshift pitch, and getting time to relax.

It had taken Bill no time to find the letter from Amelia this go around. Charlie had taken to sleeping with the offending piece of post under his pillow and storing it in his pants drawer during the day.

“Heard something interesting at work a few days ago,” Bill said. They sat in swim costumes next to the pond on a hot July day. Ginny, Hermione, and the twins were partaking in a raucous game of Chicken while Harry and Ron took turns trying to outdo the other as they found inventive ways to splash into the water.

“Wassat?” Charlie asked. He lay on the ground under a familiar oak tree. His mum had been out so he felt safe enough to have peeled off his t-shirt, showing a few new additions to the Horntail as well a number of shiny scars – after threatening each of his younger siblings and their guests within an inch of their life if they dared tell their mum about the tattoos.

“Amelia Rutledge is coming for the World Cup,” Bill looked intently at his brother, trying to gauge his reaction. Charlie’s brow furrowed but he just hummed in response. He was fairly positive he heard his brother grumble, “You’re both impossible.” Before diving seamlessly into the water.

When Charlie made it to the grounds for the World Cup later that summer it wasn’t long before he and his brother found old school friend’s tents to sit outside and reminisce about school days. Charlie had found a pretty enough girl – he vaguely registered that she was in Bill’s year? Maybe even a year older? She wasn’t much for conversation though. She’d smiled and batted her eyes at him and commented how nice his hands looked. Her hand had ended up on his knee before he knew what was happening.

He felt pleasantly buzzed as the flagon of firewhiskey made its way back around to them. He took it and took a long pull before passing the liquid on. He looked over at her again. Her dull brown hair and light blue eyes were reminiscent of someone whose memory he tried desperately tried to push away. But he kept making unwanted comparison. This girl’s hair didn’t have the shimmer of the others. Her eyes seemed flat compared to his former friend. And she was just on the side of too thin for him. And what was this girl’s name again? Charlotte? Melinda?

“Amelia!” he heard someone say excitedly. His head snapped away from the cute brunette and, as if the image he was trying to suppress jumped out of his mind’s eye, Amelia Rutledge stood in front of him. Deep blue eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Long time no see, Rutledge,” Jae Kim had stood next to Charlie and walked over to wrap her in a swift hug. “How’s our Head Girl doing?”

Charlie didn’t wait for a response. He stood and grabbed the hand that had been resting on his knee, tugging the girl with him as he stalked away from the fire and back to his tent.

1995- After the events that took place at end of the Tri-Wizard, Charlie found himself back in England a lot more often. He and Bill had officially joined the Order, much to their mother’s dismay, and would have to check in regularly with Dumbledore. He’d been tasked with foreign relations – keeping him in place in Romania and allowing him to travel some during his off time. Bill had transferred back to the main London office. And from the stories he’d heard from Bill about one Miss Delacour – there may be more than just the Order keeping him in place.

Charlie often stayed at Bill’s flat when he’d come for a visit. He told himself it was to catch up with his older brother and definitely not because that blasted letter had found its way onto his desk againand, after many years of being shuffled here and there, one corner had finally started to peel open.

It was one of these nights that Charlie was visiting where the two oldest Weasley boys decided a night at the Leaky Cauldron was long overdue.

“’Ave you ‘eard Fred and George’s plan after ‘ey’re done wit schoo?” Charlie said, trying his best to talk around the hot beef stew he’d shoveled into his mouth.

“You are disgusting and our mother would be ashamed,” Bill said, but there was no venom behind it and a smile in his voice. “And no, they haven’t.”

“Since when are you such a proper lad, mate?” Charlie joked, “It’s not like we’re in some fancy Frenchplace, it’s just the Leaky.” Bill laughed at his brother’s insinuation but made no attempt fight him on it. “They spotted that empty building down the way – the one that’s been sitting empty for ages. They say they want to start a joke shop there.”

“Well,” Bill said mulling it over as he blew on his own spoonful of soup, “If there were any of us who could do it, it would be Fred and George. Haven’t seen them accomplish anything they hadn’t set their mind to.” Bill thought for a moment then added, “And Ginny. She could do it on force of will alone.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Charlie tipped his ale in his brothers’ direction before taking a swig. “Reminds me, how’s the new position going?”

“Ah, just boring paperwork to be honest,” Bill said, “But you may be hearing more from me soon.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“They’re also putting me in charge of the Benevolence Foundation. We’re going to be looking for ‘worthy causes’ to donate a couple thousand galleons to.”

Charlie froze. “You’re joking.”

“’Fraid not,” Bill sighed and leaned back in his seat. “And I’m trying to get someone out to the reserve at some point. So please, when I do, try your best not to scare them off.”

“What are you talking about,” Charlie said, maybe a bit tetchier than was warranted, “Between the two of us, I’m the one who has all the charm, and I’m handsomer to boot.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Charlie,” Bill smirked and went order the two of them another round of ale.

Charlie left for the reserve two days later. Bill saw him off before he went in to his office. They stood next to the fireplace and said a quick goodbye. Bill told his younger brother to be careful on an upcoming trip to Egypt to meet with some old contacts of Bill’s and make sure the connections were still secure if needed. Charlie told Bill to man up and finally ask Fleur out. Bill shoved his shoulder but Charlie caught the faint flush to his cheeks. They embraced quickly and a moment later the fire was flashing green after the floo powder was thrown in and Charlie was gone.

Charlie still doesn’t know how Bill did it but as he was unpacking his bag that evening he found Amelia’s letter placed neatly between his folded shirts.

He immediately threw it into the bottom of his traveling trunk and tried to forget it.

(He was never very good at forgetting.)

#charlie weasley #charlie fic #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley fic #charliexoc #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fic #Weasley fic #chapter update

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ink-splotch · 6 years

Note

Have you ever written about all the little moments that Ron realized he was falling in love with Hermione? Love your writing!

Probably the closest I’ve come to that is this excerpt from my “Ron as the Chosen One” fic (which I love quite a lot– Ron’s not any more or less loyal, tetchy, insecure, or brilliant as the Boy Who Lived and the youngest boy of the seven Weasley orphans than he was as Harry Potter’s sidekick. And he is a delight to write.).

This is Ron’s version of that bit in the seventh book, the bit in the Great Hall, and then the Stone in the forest, the walking out to die, and what came after– with Dumbledore and the train station. But for Ron it’s not Dumbledore and the train station, and it, among other things, ends up being about Hermione.

Er, warnings for spoilers about who I decided to kill v. not kill to match it up with a different protagonist’s emotional journey.

Ron did not see Bill go down. He wasn’t sure who did, or how it happened, or when– while Harry was racing up the stairs to find the diadem? While Ron was hissing open the passage to the Chamber? While he was kissing Hermione in an ankle-deep puddle of slimy water and dropped basilisk fangs?

Ron didn’t see Bill go down, he just stepped into the Great Hall and found him there, laid out and peaceful.

It had always been easy to pick his family out of a crowd– the hair, the sort of volume that Fred and George and Ginny had always carried with them, Charlie’s big friendly smile. It was easy to pick his family out of this crowd– the hair, the hands grasping hands grasping shoulders grasping elbows, the way George cried quiet and hard and familiarly.

Ron thought dully, At least this time we’ll have something to bury.

He stepped forward, past rushing young soldiers and past the tired teachers who watched their students go by, breathless, desperate. His family– and there was Fleur, laid out beside Bill, their hands almost touching. Her hair was long and mussed from the fight, the fall. Her face was pale. Ron tried to take another step forward.

Closer, and he could see them better. Closer, and he could ask how, and when, and why. Closer, and he could forget how to stand up at all.

A hand on his elbow stopped him in tracks. It was easy. He wasn’t sure he was touching the ground, except everything also felt so heavy, pulling his wrists down and down. He turned and Hermione was standing there.

Fred was gone, and now Bill was dead, and Fleur, and Hermione was standing there. Her hair was untamed, as it had been every day except for a ball once upon a time. She had put her wand away.

She had put her wand away and she was crying, and he always forgot how brave that looked on her. Hermione was crying, nose snotty and cheeks shiny, and she was going to save the world, this girl. She already had, and she was going to keep on doing it– waving petitions in peoples’ faces, and pulling things out of her magic bag like Mary Poppins, and never giving up, not even when things were impossible, not even on him.

When she reached out, Ron folded in, burying his face in her hair and crying until he stopped. Then he pulled back and scrubbed at dirty cheeks. He still had his wand fisted in his other hand. “We have work to do,” he said. “C'mon, let’s–” He scrubbed at his eyes with his fist again. “Let’s find Harry.”

Voldemort had already given his ultimatum– the Boy Who Lived, for all of you. Pansy had been all for it, and then Ron had let Hogwarts defend him.

Ron remembered Ginny’s dark robes and bright hair, lying on the Chamber floor, discarded like so much refuse. Tom Riddle had been young, translucent, and he had smirked over that barely breathing body, knowing exactly who would come for her.

Bill had cleaned all the picture frames hanging around the Burrow. He had hung up new ones, from the years spent bouncing from house to house, but he had kept up all their old ones. Their parents had danced above the mantle, Molly in gingham, and Arthur in a tux that didn’t fix him. They had held hands, beamed, and waved in the polaroid tacked up in the kitchen beside Bill’s postcards. Ron had heard their last words, echoing in his skull, dredged up by nightmares. He couldn’t even remember seeing the way they looked, fallen, the shape of their cooling bodies on the nursery room floor.

Which room had been the nursery, even? Which– Bill would know, but Bill was dead. Bill was another body strewn between Ron and the end of this. Charlie would know, or Percy, maybe, but Ron wasn’t going to have a chance to ask them.

George had stopped crying, mostly, talking quietly to Ginny. Charlie was laying wards down and down around the Hall with McGonagall. Harry and Hermione were with Neville, leaning over the Marauder’s Map rolled out over a bench at the Hufflepuff table, making battle plans. Ron went out through a side door and headed toward the Forest.

The trees were tall. The wind was cold. There were things that lived out here, spiders and nightmares, but he knew where he was going. If he was frightened, it didn’t matter.

Ron turned the Stone three times in his hand. Harry had the Cloak, and Hermione had won rights to the Elder Wand, disarming Draco in a skirmish– but Dumbledore had left Ron the Stone. He turned it three times and his ghosts stepped into view.

“Ron,” Molly Weasley said, squeezing insubstantial hands together, and Ron looked at her standing there. She was plump and short, with flushed cheeks and a wand shoved through her bunned-up hair. He had seen her in a dozen pictures, beaming and scolding and napping, and he wasn’t sure if this felt worse because it was just another picture, or because it wasn’t.

“Hi, Mum,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Molly said hotly, like she was Percy in a temper, and Ron almost smiled. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

Her hair– Arthur’s, Bill’s, Fred’s– it should have been red, but it was a listless silver. He could see the trees through them, the drooping pine needles and whispering leaves. Ginny could always tell Fred and George apart, but Ron never could– except that now Fred looked so young. George had been growing and growing, outliving him, and he would go on outgrowing him forever.

“He’s alright,” said Fred. “Isn’t he?” And Ron nodded, because he was bad at lying aloud.

“Take care of Art,” said Bill. The earring Fleur had talked him into getting glittered in his earlobe, the brightest thing in eyesight. “You will take care of him, won’t you?”

“You named him after me?” said Arthur. “Oh goodness. Dear,” he said, patting at Molly’s hand. “We have a grandchild.”

“We’ll take care of him,” said Ron. “He’s got so much family,” he said and his voice broke. “They’ll be there.”

“Chin up,” said Fred, a little wetly. “You’ve got work to do, little brother.”

“We love you,” said Bill. “It’s going to be alright.”

But Ron knew how to care more about what he needed to do than what he wanted. He dropped the Stone, round and grey and anonymous, to the Forest floor and he moved on.

When he reached the clearing, Ron did raise his wand. There was no old friend of his mother’s to tell him about the Horcruxes, about the way Dumbledore had been raising and raising him to die. But Ron had walked out into the Forest to die for his friends, his family, and that was enough for the magic. He raised his wand because if he could take out a few of them before he went, all the better.

Ron shot out an Avada Kedavra with all he had in him, but Voldemort’s hit first, and the Boy Who Lived fell down dead.

When Ron opened his eyes, the clearing was empty. The trees, which had been towering and grasping and dark, were peaceful. The Death Eaters were gone, Hagrid, flushed and sobbing, was gone. Starlight dripped down through the leaves. The shadows of the Forest circled round and round him, calm, all-encompassing. There was something twisted and bloody, tucked in the curve of some old roots across the leaf-strewn ground.

A Killing Curse must kill something, said a voice. But there were two lives in you. That is a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul.

Wind ran through the branches and it wasn’t cold. “This is a weird dream,” said Ron. “Am I dead?”

Not yet.

He blinked and he was standing in Ginny’s shed. It was all spare parts and clutter. The door of the Ford Anglia was unlatched, hanging open.

You do not have to stay, said the voice, and Ron thought about that. He thought about what he wanted.

He closed his eyes and the white queen stood over Harry, crumpled on the cold chessboard, eleven years old.

Ron opened his eyes and it was summer behind the Burrow. Ginny was balancing a box of tools on the edge of the Ford’s open hood, looking inside. He was fifteen, a Triwizard champion. She was thirteen, bare years away from the cold sludgy water of the Chamber floor. She startled at the noise of his step behind her and the tool box fell, shining wrenches going bouncing and banging all over the dirty floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. The sound reverberated through his skull, clashing and clinging, metal on metal on wood. His heart beat in his ears.

Ron wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He was done losing brothers. He was done watching Hermione cry. He didn’t want to see that ever again. Hermione looked so brave, even when she cried, especially when she cried, and he wanted to run away to some place where no one had to be brave.

What did he want? Ginny was fierce and terrible, but she was so scared when there was no one looking, and so Ron didn’t look. Harry had hung, bloated, in the cold water under the Lake, and it had been a game, just a game, Ron knew how to play games. George had cried out, Ron had reached out, when Fred fell softly backward through that archway into whispering veils. Ron had reached out, and now he could catch him, catch up to a fate he’d been chasing for years.

You do not have to stay.

But Hermione was going to save the world. Harry was going to tug at his already messy hair on late nights, studying to be an Auror like his mother, like his uncle, and he was going to help people. George was going to torment a whole new generation of Hogwarts teachers with the trinkets and tricks he’d sell to the schoolchildren. Charlie would burn pot roasts for dinners, years and years of them, and Percy, muttering, would fix them all as best he could.

Hermione was going to save the world, and Ron wanted to be there to see it.

They were going to lose things they had wanted to keep. He never wanted to see Hermione cry again, but he would, because he wanted to hear her correct his spelling, and to see her roll her eyes and to call giant old tomes “some light bedtime reading.”

He wanted to hear about all of the hazings Lily would gleefully concoct for Harry when he joined the Aurors. He wanted to teach Bill’s kid how to play wizard’s chess, and to see Charlie go back to school, and to argue with Ginny about comics. He wanted to know what Hermione looked like in the morning, sleep-mussed and soft, smiling.

Ron opened his eyes.

–excerpt from the last son by dirgewithoutmusic

#so this is really long and i apologize #but i really did want to put all of it down #i almost included the bit about draco that comes right after this #but i resisted #undiscoveredshades

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digressfromreality · 6 years

Text

All is Well...

While doing her some coursework over holiday break, young Lily Luna stumbles over the one thing she wants to be known, Harry Potter is very loved.

Loosely inspired by that sad as hell Met Life Commercial, My Daddy Lies.

Lily smiled, walking passed her father’s office. In a simple frame, unlike the rest that were hung, a partially completed coursework assignment proudly stood at the epicenter. Her fingers ghosted across the dark wooden frame, very pleased that her penmanship had significantly improved since third year.

Lily had been assigned some History of Magic questions over that Holiday break. She had been perturbed by some of the ridiculous questions from her assignment. Was it entirely necessary to ask her questions about her father? Perhaps not, but she had had an epiphany that day, inspiring her to pen a letter that her father still held in high regards today.

----

Thirteen year old Lily Luna stared at her parchment, scoffing at the history of magic questions staring back at her.

Question 114. Describe the significant role the “Chosen One” contributed to the defeat of Dark Lord Voldemort during the second wizarding war?

Question 115. Who is the Chosen One? Please describe.

Was her professor trying to mock her? Why would they ask, her, Harry Potter’s daughter, something like this? Perhaps they wanted to test her knowledge on the subject. She shrugged, easy homework points.

But her quill stayed unused in her inkpot.

Harry Potter. How would she describe her father?

Harry Potter was the boy who lived. The world’s savior. A young man, whom with his friends, Hermonie Granger, Ronald Weasley and members of the Order of the Phoenix in combined efforts overthrew a…

No… she scribbled that out.

Harry Potter is the youngest Auror to grace the English Ministry for Magic.

No… she scribbled that out as well.

Harry Potter is the youngest Auror to grace the English Ministry for Magic.

The answers seemed too, impersonal. This was her papa! He was more than the public defined him.

Harry Potter is cheeky, or at least that is what mother says he is. Harry Potter is happy to be a spectator, to be Mr. Ginny Potter, husband of former Holy Head Harpie’s seeker. Harry Potter is an avid supporter of competitive dueling tournaments, which are character building and informative. (Most the time boring). Harry Potter is a fierce protector of his friends, Hermione and Ronald, but more importantly he is my father. He is my hero. He is everyone’s hero. His name is the one witch’s and wizard’s whisper to their children at night, Harry Potter will keep them safe.

She put her quill down, a new train of thought capturing her attention. There was something that the public didn’t know about. Something the wizarding world didn’t speak about. A secret that her father kept from most; Harry Potter was still haunted from the war.

Harry Potter will continue to save the day, but… should anything happen, who will save him?

She could remember that day in Diagon Alley that went too far, she had been 5 years old then.

“Do not touch my child.” Her father said through his gritted teeth. His green eyes narrowed, and his hand wound tightly in his pocket. Somebody had tried to grab James’s arm. Her mother was quick to pull Albus and her away from everyone else. For weeks after her father’s calm, but demanding words contradicted the flash of anger on his face which was strewn through the newspapers. Harry hid his rage beneath his stare.

She could remember the night after Amos Diggory had stopped at their home, she had been 12 years old then. A man screamed all through the night, as if in terrible pain. “How many must die for the boy who lived?” She could hear her mother’s panicked voice several times. She held her stuffed dragon tight until daylight.

But the next day, her worries had been for not. "No, Lily. No one was screaming last night." Despite her mother's discouraging, her frown told Lily all that she needed. Her father suffered from night terrors.

In that same year she could remember the day her father and Albus’s rowing came to head. He told Albus that he didn’t want him as a son. She couldn’t see their faces, only hear gasps struck with revelation. She didn’t know who had regretted that moment more.

"Your father loves Albus." Hermonie stroked her hair, holding Lily close. She sniffled, trying to blink away the tears.

"But he said some right awful things to him." She nodded, aunt Mione understood.

"He didn't mean it. He sees more of himself in Albus than he cares to admit." But it wasn’t something Albus chose. He didn’t choose to be an outsider, he was just different! He couldn’t help it. “Shh…. Lily. Your father understands more than anything how it feels to be misunderstood.” Harry was haunted by his childhood.

Even months after, she still recognized the tremor in her father’s hands when people mention Delphini Riddle in her father’s presence.

Her mother’s coworker had added, “I’m actually interested in the Delphi Riddle interview, she seems-”

“Bloody hell.” Harry interrupted.

“Harry, are you, all right?” Her father’s hands shook as he put down what was left of his cuppa. His robes were seeping with the hot liquid. With a swish of her mother’s wand, the front of his robes was clear from the mess. He smiled sheepishly.

“A bit of klutz today. Excuse me.” Harry felt guilty for convicting an orphan girl who had desperately wanted to meet her parents.

Lily decided, she would protect him. He would never have to face his demons alone. She summoned another piece of parchment and flew into a fervor of scribbling.

-------

“Papa?” Lily shyly asked, waiting by the door of his study. Harry paused, smiling when he saw his daughter had wanted attention. He gestured for her to come in. Lily noted that his bright green eyes were tired. She smiled sheepishly when he ran a hand through his messy hair.

“What is it, my Lily flower?” Harry watched his daughter bit her lip and place some parchment in his hand. He chuckled, at her timid behavior, she had written him something. “You want me to read this?” Lily nodded her head. “Is it some course work?” She shook vigorously no, then yes. He chuckled again.

The parchment had several scribbled out answers, finally revealing a letter below.

Harry Potter is the world’s hero. He is my hero.

He is my world.

He is home every night, after making sure everyone else is safe.

He has the greatest laugh.

He loves us very much.

But, he lies.

He lies about being scared for us.

He lies about his past.

He says stuff sometimes that he doesn’t mean.

He isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t matter.

He is loved, loved more than he sometimes imagines. The world owes him a debt that they can’t repay. And if he gets scared at night, just wake my mum up. She will protect you, no one messes with her. And if anyone messes with her, Teddy, James, Albus, and me will hex their bollocks off. We promise that.

We love you, papa.

Harry massaged his temple, while also trying to blink tears from his eyes. It had been a year since Delphi Riddle’s conviction, and he hadn’t realized he showed signs of how much it bothered him.

It was hard to discern his now teenage daughter from the image of his baby girl. Sometimes he forgot how much his children reflected Ginny and him. Teddy had been spoiled naturally. It had been hard to tell a boy no when he could physically make his eyes larger, and his pouty lips sadder. James, on the other hand was spunky and hard headed. Albus was more reserved and insecure of his place. And his baby – she looked so much like her mother – full of heart and keen perception, she was growing too quick.

“Lily?” He whispered.

“Yes,” she answered apprehensively. He held his arms open, she practically slammed into his embrace, nearly knocking him from his chair. They both laughed at her excitement.

“Thank you.”

-----

An arm slugged over her shoulder, “My favorite gift of them all.” Harry admitted with a knowing smile. She nudged him playfully, looking away from the picture frame.

“Really? So I can return those dragon hide quidditch gloves you wanted for your monthly pickup games?”

“Well, now Lily let’s not be too hasty. I faintly remember needing to replace the pair that had mysteriously gone missing before our last family game…” He teased, well aware his children had robbed him of his worn out gloves in hopes to give him new ones.

“You’re just so hard to shop for.”

“True, very true.” He touched the frame this time, still remembering the day Lily had handed him it. “This is still my favorite.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

“Happy Christmas papa.”

“Happy Christmas Lily.”

#happy christmas #merry xmas #harry potter #lily luna potter #harry potter next generation #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #potter family #ginny weasley #teddy lupin #james sirius potter #albus severus potter

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kayrogers · 4 years

Note

hi Kay, I wanted to request a ship for the marvel, harry potter and game of thrones fandoms if that's ok. I'm a bisexual woman, 5"1, leo, I'm an INFJ and a Ravenclaw. I like musicals, dancing, going out with my friends but also really enjoy staying home with my dogs. Hope this works :)

I ship you with...

Peter Parker

You and Peter first met in theater class. You had known each other by reputation up to that point, both introverts and excelling students in all your classes. Not to mention both frequent targets of Flash Thompson’s obnoxious teasing. Though this class showed Peter a whole new aspect of you he had yet to see.

The girl who was usually timid in class became a star on the stage. You were practically the best performer in your class, especially considering only half of you actually participated. He admired how you would dance and improvise with the other theater kids effortlessly, eventually coming to you for help when given a partner assignment. You all had to pick partners to perform a scene from a Shakespeare play and he knew he would bomb fast without your help.

You were at first surprised the boy was even talking to you, always secretly finding his dorky attributes adorable, not to mention the suddenly muscular physique he sported sophomore year.

Of course you agreed and the two of you settled on what was probably one of the easiest and most obvious scenes to perform. The balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Though you partially detested the play, finding it to be one of Shakespeare’s worst. The two of you practiced every class leading up to the performance, even after school at times when Peter wasn’t participating in the Stark Internship. And through this, something more grew. You had hoped your crush on him wasn’t obvious as you almost too easily played a girl in love, but he was no different. As you got to know each other, the lines between the script and his feelings blurred. Hell you thought he was quite the actor with how earnestly he read Romeo’s lines against your Juliet.

And on the day of the performance, you felt yourself consumed by emotion as the performance took over.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” Peter’s eyes locked with your own as he spoke, soon it felt as though the room disappeared around you and you were the only two people in the world.

And by the end, even though it was not written in the script, the both of you had found yourselves so close to one another. Your breath’s intermingled, his nose bumping against your own. And as the scene and your feelings took over, his lips pressed against yours in a breathless kiss which neither of you had ever experienced.

Ron Weasley

Ron never thought he would see a witch which matched Hermione Granger with intelligence and magical prowess until he met you.

Stuck as desk mates in ancient runes class, he actually seemed like an oaf to you, but the ginger had been smitten instantly when graced with your looks and personality. His crush was obvious to you, but you surprisingly didn’t mind it. After getting to know him through your time together, he actually seemed quite kind and very funny. Not to mention you had lost count of how many times himself and two other Gryffindors had saved the school/wizarding world from He Who Shall Not Be Named.

It wasn’t until you started tutoring him however when you began developing feelings for him. You would be reading in Hogsmeade, each of you with a pint of butterbeer, where you’d very often find yourselves moving from the studying material and just talking. Soon his secret glances your way resulted in a blush on your face and yours toward him would elicit the same response. So when he asked you to the Yule Ball, you had no choice but to say yes.

Upon your arrival to the event, Ron Weasley had been rendered speechless. Not an easy thing to do mind you.

You had worn a silver dress that flowed off your body like silk, a dark blue beret in your hair and light makeup gracing your features.

His first words to you that night were, “you're beautiful.”

Needless to say you instantly became a blushing mess under his gaze.

When dancing, you took the lead rather than him given your dancing abilities and his lack thereof. You laughed and joked the whole time, swirling around to the music which floated through the beautifully decorated hall.

“You know I’ve liked you since I’ve met you.” Ron admitted sheepishly as he held you close during a slow song and you smiled up at him.

“I know.” You responded with a smirk and his face nearly burned redder than his hair.

“And would you maybe feel the same way?” He asked, showing a vulnerability you had not scene on him often.

With a roll of your eyes you planted a quick kiss on his lips, “Does that answer it for you?”

Sansa Stark

To say Sansa intimidated you would be an understatement. Queen in the North was not a title frequently held, if ever, and yet it seemed as though the young woman was made for it.

You were the youngest child of Howland Reed and visited the North after the wars. Meera was not interested in holding a position of power, having faced enough in the past years to make her practically disappear to find a peaceful life of her own. And with Jojen’s passing, you were the representative of your father’s family. You were actually quite bookish and proper for an inhabitant of the Neck, but this quality set you apart from your family in a good way.

Sent to the North to find a suitor from Sansa’s court. It was a smart alliance and an old one as the Stark’s had always had a good relationship with the House Reed. Though part of you resented this potential match up as you had not wanted to be married off, you were a free spirit and would rather be married to a crocodile than a man. See, though it was expected of a lady to fall for a man in Westeros, you found yourself to be a woman which more preferred the company of women.

Sansa was cold at first, as she had learned to be, but getting to know you during your stay in Winterfell changed something in her. She allowed herself to be warm and spoke to you as though you were on equal stature.

The two of you actually hit it off quite well, finding your conversations to flow easily and honestly. She felt as though she could speak to you as she could to a close friend. You found the fiery haired girl to be beautiful and smart and stronger than you could imagine. And unbeknownst to you, she found you in quite the same manner.

It was one night, over to many glasses of wine in her bedroom, that you had almost thought she was flirting with you? The Westerosi conversational standard had longed died off and you were soon just two women enjoying each other’s company.

“I enjoy you, [Y/n]. It’s a shame you’ve come to be married off to a man of my court.” She stated, and though it seemed innocent enough, you knew Sansa never spoke without purpose.

“If it were my decision, I would not be. Don’t much prefer their company.” You said, equally baiting the queen with a vague response.

“And what would your decision be?” You felt your heart race as Sansa invaded your personal space, sitting closer to you on her bed as her voice was near desperate in the question.

A mixture of anxiety and excitement spun through your veins as you met her piercing blue eyes, “if I am not speaking out of turn, I would choose to be with you, my Queen.”

She is silent for too long after your admission, staring into your eyes with an intensity you had never seen before. The ginger was hesitant as she grew closer to you, face nearly suffocating your own. Her nose brushed against yours and you sucked in a breath as you soon felt her lips on your own. You let your eyes close as you leaned into the kiss, her hands running through your hair as you let yours carefully cup her cheeks. The kiss was short but left the both of you breathless when pulling away, desperation and adoration clear in both of your faces.

“You will not be married to a man of the court. You deserve nothing but a Queen.”

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

Faking It - Pt. 2 [F.W.]

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader; Fred Weasley x reader.

PART 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Summary: You’re a Slytherin dating Draco Malfoy and life is pretty normal until Fred Weasley decides that the best prank against Draco involves you; this won’t end well, will it?

*gif not mine

[y/h/c] = your hair colour; [y/e/c] = your eye colour.

Warnings: cheating, I guess

Words: 3k+

A/N: This is a series, so be free to ask if you wanna be tagged. I’ll be posting one part per day, so check in tomorrow for Part 3!

Tag List: @marvelsmalfoy @naomi02hook

—

You walked in the Great Hall, paying very little attention to what your boyfriend was complaining. You were sure it was something about mudbloods, but which one of them, you had no idea.

You were looking around to find the Weasley twins, but they were nowhere. Some corner of your mind reminded you that they were generally late for breakfast and you sat next to Draco, thinking about what would you do if the gossip spread about your proximity with the red-haired boy last night.

"Love, do you have Potions first today?" Draco asked you, calling your attention.

You turned at him, "No, my first class today is Herbology," you answered, but you were a little worried about Draco. You were older than him — he should have known you two never shared classes.

Draco sighed while putting food on his and your plate. It was a habit of his to serve you, and you never bother with it.

Your relationship base is a lot of habits — some his, some yours. Your friendship started as kids — both came from purebloods families (and Death Eaters undercovers) — and it was around the end of last year that you two decided to give it a try. It started with innocent kisses, just as a pass time, and suddenly you two were acting around like a couple. It didn't take long for Lucius Malfoy to step in and "suggest" to Draco to be your boyfriend.

"So, who is left for Slytherin to defeat at Quidditch?" you asked, trying to make conversation while eating.

"After the glorious win against Gryffindor," Draco was very proud of his doings, "it's only the Hufflepuffs next. And we know how that will be easy."

You smiled at Draco, kissing his cheek. It was nice seeing him speaking about something with such happiness. Since his father started being more present in his life, Draco was smiling less and less.

That was when they walked in — the Weasley twins. They didn't even look at your table, at least, from that distance, they didn't seem to have done it.

They were both wearing the Gryffindor uniforms, but one of them looked more confident in his looks. Neither of their hairstyles looked like last night's, but the one more confident sure had taken more time with his hair. It probably meant that he was the one from the night before and that send a shiver through your spine.

Draco, who held your hand under the table, noticed how cold you had gotten.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Bad indigestion, that's it," you lied, avoiding his eyes.

The boys sat down with the other Gryffindor's you so familiarized with — the famous Harry Potter and his gang.

You kept eating, very focused on the food in front of you, not raising your eyes at the Weasleys until the end of the meal.

Draco held your hand while you walked out of the Great Hall at the same time Harry Potter's gang seemed to be leaving. It was an awkward encounter around the door because you and Draco had to part at that point because of the different classes.

"See you at lunch," he said, ready to give just a peck on your lips.

Although that was generally what the kisses of your relationship were, you knew you had an audience around, so you wanted to give them a little show before disappearing around the corridors.

You pulled Draco closer, to kiss him properly, reaching for his jaw as you hands touched him. He was shocked but didn't take long to be a participant. He reached for your waist and pulling you closer; his mouth was now open for your adventure.

He slowly pulled away, remembering he'd be late for class.

"See you later," you said while watching he walking away. You stayed at the door, frozen, and you could swear you heard someone say something.

But it could only have been your imagination since what you heard was the weirdest phrase ever: "I would have done better."

***

Fred was feeling a bit weird around the morning. He knew he had to keep his act towards y/N, but he just didn't feel like it anymore. It had been to weird last night — he having to be charming around her was not something he was use being and neither did he want to be used to that.

That was why, when leaving the Great Hall, the most repulsive phrase about y/N and Draco's kiss didn't come from him — but from his twin.

"George, why would do that?" he questioned his brother while waiting for McGonagall to show up or her class.

"Someone had to," he answered, "if your goal still is to seduce y/N."

Fred stayed in silence, avoiding to look at the Slytherins around them in class. Although none of them was you, he couldn't help but think you all looked the same.

"Was last night that terrible?" George asked.

"No," Fred responded, too quickly. "I guess," he added, trying to save himself.

If George noticed, he didn't mention it.

"How was she like?"

Fred was about to say rude, but that wasn't true. After all, he would have been harsh with you too if all of a sudden, you decided to be seductive around him.

"Stormy," he answered, finally concluding. "She was about to ruin my life but decided not to because of my threat. So I guess, right at the moment, she doesn't quite like me."

George pondered about it. "Stop being..." the youngest twin struggled with the adjective, "alluring around her."

"So how will I get her?"

"Try being nice, instead. She dates Malfoy, do you think she gets a lot of cuddles? 'Cause I doubt it," said George, whispering the last part, scared to say that name around so many Slytherins.

Fred was about to ask for more tips but dropped it once he saw the Professor walking in.

*** It wasn't on purpose that Fred bumped into you, but he was more than happy to use the incident for his benefit.

He didn't look up at you — he knew your face wouldn't be the most content. Instead, he got on one knee to collect your books from the floor.

"Thanks," you said, your voice so low it almost sounded like a whisper. Fred gave you your books back, nodding his head, saying nothing else. And then, he left.

No smirk, no smart comment. No mention of last night, nothing about him wanting to spend more time with you. Just a pure kind gesture of collecting your books from the floor.

You stopped at where you were, watching him leave. Was he drunk last night? It could only be the reason why he was acting so differently from before.

You held your books close before turning to the other side of the corridor — to where you knew she wouldn't run into Fred again. Draco would be waiting for you at the Hall, but you put those thoughts aside. You were much too confused to eat anything.

***

The first thing Fred noticed when he finally convinced himself to go to the Great Hall to grab a bite was that you were not there.

"I did what you asked," he told his brother while sitting down. "I was nice to her."

"And?"

"She froze. I guess I broke her," Fred informed. "So I left without a word."

George thought about what he had just heard. It wasn't his brother smart choice, but since he decided on that prank against y/N, Fred hadn't been in his right mind.

"You should have said something," George said.

"I know, but I just couldn't," Fred served himself, "If I had said something, she'd reply with an angry comment."

"Yeah, that's what she'd do," George's eyes wandered around the Hall, "but look, she's not here."

"Perhaps I scared her to death," sighed Fred. "This wasn't gonna work at all, was it?"

"Of course it can work, you just have to keep going," interrupted Angelina, opining over the matter she was eavesdropping. "If she froze, as you said, it means she was surprised. And if she didn't yet appear," the girl looked over the Slytherin table, "it means she's thinking about it."

Fred stared at Angelina, querying if he should believe what the girl was telling. He hoped it was true because he desperately wanted to prank Draco, and he'd need you to success at that.

***

"Where have been, love?"

It was Draco's voice, coming from behind you. You turned your face to see him — he was wearing his Quidditch uniform, which you didn't think looked quite good in him.

"Had a lot of homework," you lied, and Draco didn't even doubt as it was a recurring lie you told him every time you wanted to be alone.

The Slytherin common room was rather loud on that afternoon, but both of you didn't seem to notice.

"But are you alright?" he asked, raising a brow.

"I'm fine," you sighed, tilting your head. "Are you coming or going to practice?"

He bit his lip. "Going to it. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," you replied, "just be careful."

You knew the rest of the team was brutal.

"Always," he smiled, starting to walk away. He then stopped and turned back at you, "Don't wait up — Marcus said this will be the hardest training we had ever."

"Oh," you sighed, frowning. "Good luck, then."

"I'll be," he replied, but he didn't come near you to kiss you goodbye. Generally, that wouldn't have mattered, you wouldn't have even noticed. But that day it seemed to have bugged you.

***

Weeks passed by, but Fred never dropped his act. He followed his brother's suggestions, being gentle to y/N instead of seductive.

He had no idea if it was working or not, but he kept trying. He couldn't give up, not now after what he heard about the Slytherins — they had hurt another kid from Hufflepuff, probably harder than they hurt Harry.

He would meet you around the corridors of the school, and he would always give you a kind smile as if he understood everything that was going on in your life. Fred even opened doors for you, and with the extra help of the Marauder's Map, he kept showing up everywhere you were.

You were confused with what Fred meant with all that niceness. You two were never friends, and being friendly with each other was something neither of you tried to be.

However, you couldn't deny he was growing in your concept. You'd never thought much about the Weasleys, and at the beginning of the month, you couldn't even tell the twins apart. But, with the passage of days, you started noticing that the twin that kept staring at you with puppy eyes was taller, although just a little, than the other. He also had more freckles around the nose, as the other had more around his cheeks.

To finally find out the name of the twin, you started walking closer to their group of friends, eavesdropping on their conversations, in the hope a name would get dropped.

It was Pansy Parkinson, though, who ultimately clarified things to you. She came in your dorm with one of the girls that slept in the same room as you, telling the "new gossip of the day".

One of the twins — and that was George Weasley — was dating Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor's Chaser. Her tone insisted on a joke; she claimed the relationship wouldn't last.

"I mean, come on, who would trust to be those boys' girlfriends?" said Pansy, and you shrugged. "They are evil troublemakers, you know, I doubt they can be loyal."

"Maybe she just wants to have fun as well," you said, avoiding Pansy's eyes.

The gossip girl, however, didn't take her time to convince you, and quickly she and her friend left the dorm.

You stayed in bed, thinking about what you had just heard. So one of the twins was dating, which could only mean that the one being nice and charming around you was Fred.

That don't change anything, you thought, puffing. It could even have been George all the time; what difference would that make? It was not like you were interested, right?

Oh, Merlin, you needed to see Draco. You needed to kiss him again, kiss him like you two have been avoiding for days, so you could remind yourself that you were in a relationship with someone that liked you very much.

You walked out of the dorm, looking around for your boyfriend, but he wasn't there. You decide to leave the Slytherin's place, and ramble the castle — it was your only chance to find him.

However, you would need to be extra careful not to face Mr Filch, because this time you no longer had the Prefect's badge to give you some authority. The former Prefect was healthy again and restored to her position.

"Draco?" you called his name inside one empty classroom, but no one answered.

You went to every spot you could think Draco would be at but did not find him. So, you decided to stop at the Astronomy Tower, and take some quiet time for yourself, looking to the beautiful night sky.

The thing was: you didn't expect for someone already to be there.

It wasn't your boyfriend — the night sky would not affect his golden locks of hair, so you wondered who could it be. You were about to turn around and leave when a voice spoke.

"Stay — I'm leaving, anyway," Fred Weasley turned. He was not smiling at you this time; he pressed his lips together as if he was afraid to say too much.

"No worries, Fred," you replied, avoiding his eyes, "you can stay."

"Not gonna report me this time?" he asked, trying to be funny.

"No longer a Prefect," you informed, coping his expression.

He let out a low "oh" and turned back at the sky. It seemed as if he was asking you to join him, and you stayed still for a moment, wondering if you should.

"How you knew it was me and not my brother?" he asked as soon as you reached the parapet. Neither of you stared at each other; you were scared to do so, and he was afraid it would be too soon.

"What are you talking about?" you played dumb. "I always knew how to distinguish you from George."

"No, you didn't," he replied. "You use to call me George all the time when we were younger."

"Everybody gets confused when it comes to you two sometimes," you said, not brave enough to confess you've been paying close attention lately, "I just took a lucky guess."

Fred smiled at your lame excuse, but you weren't able to see it.

"So what are you doing here, past-curfew?"

You sighed, "I could ask you the same."

"Couldn't sleep," he said, but you didn't believe it. It was way too early for someone to be trying to sleep, especially if that someone was Fred Weasley.

Since you had no idea why would he have lied, you decided to answer the question yourself.

"Was looking for Draco, but couldn't find him."

Fred finally looked down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with the light of the moon.

"He's probably at his room, did you knock there?" you were surprised with Fred's suggestion. You were expecting him to reply with a smart comment, something similar with what you were sure he said when you kissed Draco in the Great Hall entrance, many days ago.

As simple as it sounded, the idea of knocking at his room did not occur to you. You bit your lower lip, embarrassed.

"No," you answered, feeling your cheeks turning red.

Fred didn't say anything else, most likely because he had no idea of what to say. It was not like you two had much in common — it was already a big coincidence that you both liked to use the Astronomy Tower to think.

He turned his back at you, ready to leave. "Good night," he whispered, but you practically didn't hear due to the wind.

"Fred!" You called him, not sure why, but it felt like you two still had a lot to talk.

He turned his face at your direction, and you gulped, thinking of what to say. You two kept staring at each other for a while, and you knew you were more flushed now than you were before.

You sighed, breathing out. "Nothing," you set Fred free, knowing there wasn't anything right for you two to keep talking.

Fred diverged his eyes from you, lowering his head while his hands wandered his hair. It was a very tempting view, you thought.

As fast as he was about to leave, Fred walked closer to you, reaching for your waist in such a delicate but precise movement. You wondered if he had been planning to do that from the beginning.

His lips encountered yours, and what at first was a shock, turned into a pleasure. He tasted like chocolate, something you was not at all expecting. The kiss was far from being delicate at that point — it had turned into a battle for dominance, where you both could only feel the intensity.

The immense desire to be closer, making you stretch to touch his hair — that was very soft just like you expected. Everything felt right, and it was perfect until you started comparing it with kissing Draco.

How Draco lately never let your kisses last more than a couple of minutes. How Draco's hair had so much gel, it wasn't as soft as Fred's. How Draco was never that desperate to kiss you as Fred was, pulling you in every time you tried to break apart.

It was the mention of Draco that brought you back to reality because you were not kissing your boyfriend. You were kissing someone else, someone who you spent years resenting.

You finally let go of Fred's lips, in an attempt of gasping for air, to get back to the real world.

You hand reached for your mouth, and it stayed there as if preventing Fred to try and kiss you again.

"Fred, why would you..." but you couldn't speak properly, your voice was hoarse.

The red-haired boy stayed quiet, looking as much guilty as you.

"I'm sorry," he said but didn't sound very convincing.

"If you dare tell this to a soul..."

"I won't" he interrupted you, this time more credible.

You gasped one more time before running away from that place. What was wrong with you? You should've left ages ago! You shouldn't have let him even touch you before disappearing!

You didn't even think of looking for Draco, imagining Fred's smell would be all over you by now. You hushed back to your dorm, trying hard not to wake any of the girls that slept with you. Finding your bottle of perfume, you splashed a lot of its content in you before getting under the covers.

It was hard falling asleep, but you found a good mantra: that kiss meant nothing — you wanted Draco, you desired for his kiss, and because you couldn't find him, you settled with the Weasley.

If it was a lie, it was at least a pretty convincing one, since you were able to fall asleep quickly after repeating it at least a thousand times.

PART 3 HERE

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin reader #george weasley #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #slytherin #slytherin reader #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfic

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thiswitching-blog · 7 years

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BIOGRAPHY: THE STORY; DUMBLEDORE’S DEATH; 1979 - 1984

( 1979 - 1984 is tbw )

THE STORY:

Childhood began in a home that wasn't meant to fit so many, three boys circling a crib in a room they would all share. Bilius Weasley was the youngest among his brothers, born into a cramped home his father helped to build, each room and clothes shared in some way, each thread never something to waste, and all began with the burning of a portrait upon a family tree. The ashes of Cedrella Black’s painted form became the beginning of her own rebellion that she would share with each of her children, an act she would have accomplished even if she didn’t begin a family with another who was claimed to be a blood traitor, a couple exiled from home and inheritance, and found themselves far happier and all the more proud. All that was kept from the noble ways of Mr. and Ms. Weasley’s birth was an ancient ideal of their class: that those with privilege will aid in those without. While the privilege of wealth and elitism disappeared, the duty did not, and Bilius Weasley never forgot his mother’s teachings of a duty of fairness, that humanity didn’t deserve the boundaries people created, humanity deserved a world that wasn’t broken, and Bilius didn’t care how to reach such a point.

Even beyond their rebel of a birth, the Weasley brothers were already seen as an odd kind. Each treated as a miracle by their parents, all were encouraged to pursue any and all curiosities, to discover and be outspoken. This was accompanied as each brother was far too intelligent for their own good, talent laced in their fingers, the world a wonder to them, creation something their minds continually focused on without hesitation. Arthur, Charlus, Percival, and Bilius were all of the same mold, though the directions their minds would take them all differed greatly. Bilius’ first encounter with talent was when he was still a toddler and playing with the toys Arthur, the eldest, would create for them. Charlus, the second, held his own ideas about creation, a fascination of mathematics, the world held in equations. Percival, the third, would find wonder in stories, how words strung together and language flowed through the mind, forever asking their father to come home from work with F. Scott Fitzgerald hardbacks and Peter Pan tales. They were restless boys that lived off wonder, always asking their parents more questions than they could answer. Summer nights were spent on two pairs of bunk beds, books piled among shared clothes on the floor, a toy plane Arthur created flying above them as Charlus worked out the details of flight, how long it would take to fly to the moon, Percival pacing the room, reading a short story he’d written, and Bilius, the youngest among them, watching, laughing as the loudest among them.

It would take some time for Bilius to understand his own talents beyond finding new ways to tell a joke or simply enjoying watching his brothers, asking everything he could about how something made, how words created a spell, how everything was done with magic, waiting for the explainable, accepting nothing else. Like his brothers, he was a boy who found wonder in all people, wanted to learn everything he could about the world, and this was first found in how he would emulate his brothers, or try to, however, in imitating them, it would take years to discover he wasn’t as interested in their creations, but how they did so, the spells they used, the wizard itself. His talent would turn out to be just this, talent in magic itself and its deconstruction, in the ways he worked to make magic his own invention. Bilius, as his brothers, had a mind built for creation, in forming magic, how to make it more, wanting to know each way a spell was created, how to make something new. He wished to create a world out of magic alone, and spells that would be his own. The issue with this, however, was that the talent of Bilius was an explosive matter: he would take magic books and try to combine spells and potions, giving more free reign as well as each of his brothers was in school during his childhood, their bedroom bursting into flames at times and he would have to sleep on the couch for a week.

By the time Bilius was sorted into Hufflepuff, he was wearing Charlus’ old robes and carrying his father’s repaired childhood wand. Hufflepuff came as no surprise, except for those who only saw the Weasley brothers in the form of a group, and while Bilius would posses Gryffindor ideals, willing to go for daring lengths to accomplish his goals, his care and drive was to fight for the same fairness his mother taught him, fighting for a world where he believed someone who forced and manipulated for power. In the years before Bilius, Charlus and Percival would be directed toward Slytherin, their ambitious nature a defining quality.

The experimentations he began in his bedroom, would only grow in size and sophistication with the education he received. With the Hufflepuff common room toward the bottom of the Hogwarts castle, secret experimentations in abandoned rooms was something he was able to accomplish for some time. It was a reckless matter, impracticality laced into the very being of his goals towards discovery of a different form of magic, and yet, these rational beliefs never made its way into his thoughts, even if it would end in explosion. In his nature, he wouldn’t end until a task was done, his restless mind unwilling him to finish if he didn’t know an answer to an impossible question. This was made easier as Bilius flew through his coursework, almost sleeping through his classes and still understanding the work, older brothers and all his questions as a child did aid in his ability to find a lack of focus on classwork.

Among Hogwarts, Bilius would find himself a large group of acquaintances due to a calm way of communication and the nature of wonder he held for others and their achievements.. Easily excitable, his mind running miles in a moment, and yet, this was displayed in quieter ways, in the questions he would ask, in how all he would speak of his what the other focused on or on his own projects.

Despite his own personality, however, Bilius was expelled from Hogwarts due to one of his greatest experiments that would end in disaster. It was an ambition to apparate from Hogwarts and back home to visit his brothers, trying to create his own form of doing as the Hogwarts grounds would reject the proper spell. The issue however, was that it worked, and brought the whole room with him and some of the House Elves from the kitchen into his family’s front yard. Through the commotion and the tales of the House Elves, the experimentations of Bilius Weasley were discovered in mere hours, and seeing the danger placed upon the elves, himself, and other students, Bilius was expelled during fourth year in a matter of days.

Being a boy who never sat for one moment in his life and never accepting an injustice or to be silent, Bilius would find himself busy after being cooped in his room at home. Later that year, with the war in full swing, Bilius went to battle, silently and without hesitation. News of his magical experiments were known in some rumors for those who cared to hear it, and this became his form of an income. It began with a criminal record, bringing in rebels into places they would never be able to enter, enchanting them with his own crude form of magic so they would be invisible against guards and Death Eaters. It was his brothers that recruited him: Charlus and Percival. It was their operation that began gradually. Bilius was a background man, and with his age, his brothers placed him there on purpose, a safety precaution, even if Bilius work prefer more effect in his works. However, he was able to tie to group together a bit further, a bit safer and did join into the rebellion by outing people who were Death Eaters or committing crimes to the Ministry anonymously, the criminals oddly ending up in the Auror’s department, claiming shadows and ghosts brought them there. A thief he became with his brothers, taking power away to create the battlefield to be a bit fairer.

The Weasley brothers had to years to train themselves, to hone abilities, Bilius living with them as he experimented with magic to a further degree, the fear of explosions and unanswerable questions never a matter he considered any longer, thinking himself invincible, and invisible, the world something amazing, and he would make sure it would be as such for others, no matter the way or cost, even if such confrontational ways would almost ended with him outing himself and putting him in Azkaban.

Dumbledore’s Death:

It would be believed that the end of the war would cease the Weasley's vigilante ways, noting the escalated danger of their ways, the implications that went beyond Azkaban, however, boys who decided the ways of their life, years spent working for something justice in their own way. The Gallows was something the wouldn’t dare not fight, simply boys who wouldn’t tolerate the effects of war, of their cousins who claimed the fate of humanity be placed in those who didn’t deserve power. In a few weeks after the fall of Hogwarts however, such dangerous thoughts would end in fatal matters.

The plan went as it was did with the announcement of a public execution of rebels. Charlus planning the motions, the angle of the Gallows and how to save the innocent in swift actions. Percival was the distraction, the one who made his way into the operation, learned the executioners names, the way they killed, the way they would react to a fight so the brothers could be prepared. Bilius would be held on a nearby rooftop, casting the spells that would place a cloaking spell over the elder two, shields around them. The issue, the execution was told to the public a day prior to the event and the boys were too reckless and desperate and wanting to fight to know when a battle was already won. Charlus and Percival were already dead the moment they stepped near the Gallows, where the prototype of a spell failed from Bilius’ wand, and the brothers were spotted and the moment would turn into a blur, one of those upon the Gallows killed the moment Bilius’ spell turned faulty and his wand fell. A boy of twenty and the first execution he would ever witness. The elder brothers would take out two executioners in their fight, but would end up dying themselves, Bilius unable to not do anything, shouted from rooftops, trying to create a distraction for the brothers to escape. All was futile. Bilius was tackled by the werewolf pack, his photo taken by the Daily Prophet, and his brothers dead on a cobblestone street. The only reason Bilius would get away was due to the fact that he would find his wand again, and would cast the same spell, enough for him to disappear for a moment.

1979 - 1984

tbw

#bilius: about #bilius.

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