#hp angst
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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞
summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.
pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)
tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.
note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.
“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”
You blink.
“Get the fuck out of my room!”
Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.
At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.
“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”
“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”
“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.
You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”
“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”
You slam his head against the wall.
Definitely the wrong thing to say.
Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.
“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”
Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”
“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”
Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.
(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)
“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”
“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”
You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”
You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”
Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”
ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)
“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.
Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)
“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.
(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)
You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”
Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.
Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”
“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.
“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.
Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”
“I know.” Harry grins.
“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”
“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.
You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”
(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)
The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.
You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.
“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”
“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”
You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”
James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.
“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.
“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”
(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)
Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”
James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”
Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.
“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”
“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.
“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”
“Oi!”
Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”
James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”
“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.
“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”
(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)
“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”
“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”
Harry wants to barf, actually.
After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.
“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.
“Away from you, Potter!”
And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”
Harry chortles.
“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”
He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.
“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”
It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.
“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.
“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”
James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”
Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”
Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?
Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”
“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.
Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”
Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”
“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.
“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.
“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.
“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”
Harry’s eye twitches.
IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”
Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.
Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”
You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”
The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”
Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”
James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”
“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”
“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.
“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.
“In your dreams!” You shrill.
You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”
Harry nods. “Is it time already?”
“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”
“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”
Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”
Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”
Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”
“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.
You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”
Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.
“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.
To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”
“One date, then.”
You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”
Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”
“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”
“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.
“And I want to—”
“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”
You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”
“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.
“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.
“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.
“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.
“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”
“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”
“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.
(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)
“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.
“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”
“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.
“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”
“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”
(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”
“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.
“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”
Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.
He falls in love.)
FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.
“Oi.”
The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”
“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”
Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”
You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”
Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”
Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.
She stiffens.
Oh.
part two
#hp angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#marauders angst#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#remus lupin x reader
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Ex!Mattheo Riddle x Muggleborn!Reader
Angsty asf,Break Ups, Language, Voldemort, Wizarding War.
Summary: You and Mattheo were just wrong for each other, destined to be ripped apart. He hurt you trying to protect you, and even apart is trying to protect you still, but he can’t think of everything.
“We’re done okay, I am done. I don’t want this anymore Mattheo,” You screamed as he stopped, shocked in front of you, “I can’t keep doing this.”
“What are you- you’re not saying….” You scoffed as he approached you again, stepping back so he couldn’t touch you like he so desperately wanted to. “You can’t be serious y/n we basically just started.”
“No we didn’t! That’s the fucking problem, we’ve been doing this for months and I thought it meant something to you and then I find out your friends don’t even know who I am??” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as he tried to speak, “You wasted my time, if you wanted to just be fuck buddies I’d have been fine with that and I would have kept it a secret for you if you asked but you made me feel like…..” You laughed at your own stupidity as you turned away from Mattheo’s pleading eyes.
“Princess I didn’t just-“ You cut him off before he could finish, turning back around yelling as tears welled in your eyes, “You lied to me Mattheo, you said you wanted something real, you told me you wanted someone you could trust and that you had finally found someone and all along you were the untrustworthy one!” Mattheo’s hands fell to his sides as he tried to form words, but nothing would come out.
“Were you embarrassed of me?! Is that why? Did you feel like all your rich, perfect friends would hate you for being with me or did you just want me for fun until you needed to find the pureblood future wife your father expects you to have!?” You breathed heavily as you registered your words, his eyes shone with tears at the mention of his father and only locked on yours for a second before turning to your door and tugging it open.
Mattheo stopped, weighing the odds before turning back to you with tears in his eyes, “I’d much rather marry you….but that can’t happen because he won’t allow it. I guess we did waste our time after all.” And in a matter of seconds he was gone, from the dorm, the school, from your life, no one actually knew were he went but there were rumors he left to join his father’s cause, which you just couldn’t allow yourself to think were true.
It had been weeks since you last saw his face or heard his voice, after months of seeing each other in every second of free time it hurt to wake to the reminder that you were alone. But today was different, when you dressed and returned to your bed after a morning shower a neat envelope awaited your arrival, you recognized his hand writing immediately and tore it open.
Y/n, I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I’ve done now, when you hear it you’re going to hate me and the thought breaks me. Please don’t blame yourself because I had to, I could never let him hurt you and despite everything I did to keep you safe he found out about you. He made me do things I can’t say here, things I see in my dreams on nights you stray from them but I promise one day you will be happy and safe. I will give up my life to make it so.
Tears blurred your vision as you tried to fathom what Mattheo had done, what his father could have forced him to do. What he had done to protect you. You crashed to your knees, sobbing and wishing you could somehow get a timeturner to go back to that night, beg him to stay, apologize for being so stupid. Of course he had kept you a secret for your own protection, the son of Voldemort couldn’t be walking around with a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who could barley pass by. He had kept his friends in the dark so they couldn’t tell anyone, he had snuck you around the school, not because he was ashamed, but because he wanted you safe. You had to get him back, no matter what he did in his father’s name he was yours and you were his, always.
By the next week everyone had heard the stories, Muggle and Muggleborns being tortured, “traitors” to the cause being executed, you didn’t know if he was involved, not for sure but a part of you knew. There were signs, people whispering about a new lord in training, a new way for Voldemort to gain power using his son as a weapon. It wasn’t long before most of Mattheo’s friends had gone too, making it all the more obvious where he had gone. It hurt you more to know he was doing it for you, every name of the missing and dead reminded you it was all to protect you. You began to lose hope that you’d ever see him again, that he was lost, forever his father’s minion.
You sat with your back against the cold stone wall of the astronomy tower, letting the smoke of an un-hit cigarette waft past you as you lost yourself in a deep thought. You had been having trouble sleeping, imaging the awful things being done to Mattheo and by Mattheo was bad enough but it only got worse at night. You’d found yourself gravitating to Mattheo’s spot often these days, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what life would be like in a few months. You’d be gone from Hogwarts for good, and who knew what that meant for you now, you had just begun to imagine leaving into the world alone when the sound of rushed footsteps caught you off guard, but not more than the voice that came with the halt of shoes on marble, “What the fuck are you doing here?! I thought you’d be in your dorm,” He spun around to watch the door, cursing to himself as though a plan had gone terribly wrong, and you supposed it had.
He looked tired, his hair disheveled with large bags under his eyes and his voice seemed different, harder, “You need to get the fuck up now and run, just go hide somewhere please if they see you they’ll” He was cut off by the sound of more boots quickly ascending the steps up the tower before he was grabbing you and aggressively trying to shove you into a closet too late.
“There’s the girl,” a gruff male voice shouted as the door swung open, “Knew if we followed you we’d find her.” Mattheo’s head hung as his voice broke, “no, no, I didn’t do it all for nothing.” He turned quickly, his arms out and blocking you body with his, “He can’t have her, I did everything he asked.”
“Clearly not since you’re here,” a second, larger man, cackled out, “Didn’t Daddy tell you to sit tight up in your mansion Pretty Boy.” The man laughed as though he was the funniest man alive as everyone stared back and forth, recognizing all four of us wouldn’t be leaving this room if things didn’t go as planned. “He can’t have her.” Mattheo spat again, with less conviction.
“Well you know the deal Handsome, and the Dark Lord is tired of waiting on your decision, you take the mark, we leave this pretty little thing alone and you never speak to her again….if not we have orders to make her death last awhile.” You flinched behind Mattheo’s muscular frame, not at your impending, excruciating death, but at the thought of Mattheo officially joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. If he had the mark there was no way out, no convincing the courts to spare him, even if he survived after all he had done that mark is a one way ticket to a Dementor’s Kiss. “No Mattheo you can’t”
Mattheo turned to you as your voice shook, tears falling down both your faces as he grabbed your cheeks tightly, kissing you as though you were air and he was hyperventilating. His head rested on your forehead as he thumbed your tears away, “I don’t have a choice Baby, I love you and I always will.” He tugged you into his arms, his lips next to your ear as he whispered low enough just for you to hear, “I am going to do everything in my power to come home to you, but I want you to live your life, when you get out of here run and forget me, become a Healer like you wanted and know I’m looking out for you.” He slipped away from you, leaving one final kiss on your temple before he was tugged from the room and from your life.
And you knew, from your safety, that he had taken the mark and would eventually take his father’s place as the Dark Lord if the war didn’t end soon. Maybe then, with all that power, he could end the war and return to you, a fantasy that gave you hope in the darkest days of the war.
#harry potter#hp#harry potter fandom#harry potter oneshot#yn#mattheo riddle fic#mattheo riddle angst#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x fem!reader#mattheo riddle fanfic#harry potter angst#angst#hp angst#fluff#harry potter fluff#hp fluff#death eaters#hufflepuff reader#angsty#x reader#x yn#harry potter x fem!reader#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x reader#harry potter fanfiction#the dark lord
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control freak pt.2 - t.n x female!reader
Blurb: theo has control issues but his girlfriend doesn't mind
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: warning - toxic!theo!! i also really don't like this but so many people wanted me to post it and i don't see myself making it better anytime soon so i thought i'd post it even though i hate it, sorry :/// i mainly hate it because it is just pure self indulgence, because my ex best friends actually did ruin my 21st and this brought up old wounds so if anyone wants to hear some gossip about people they don't know please hit me up because i'm ready to rant
also i'm so sorry of this is overstepping, but i tagged whoever asked for part 2 bc you all made me so happy commenting on my post <3333 @gilmore12 @avalentina @pretties-t
Masterlist | Part 1
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If she had her way, people would stop calling Theodore Nott controlling. Okay, maybe there had been times where he had lied to her and deceived to get his way, and sure, he was quick to rise to temper which often made her just agree with him, but it was just because he always knew what was best.
And that was what she kept repeating in her trembling mind the night that Theo had made the phone call.
She liked this side of him. She had said it to him explicitly that she liked it when he took control and she didn’t have to actively use her brain.
After a year of dating, she thought Theo would be used to her indecisiveness, and yet, she was sat on the edge of his bed, all dressed up, whilst he he towered over her, waiting for her to make up her mind.
“It cannot be this difficult of a decision.”
“I just don’t know what I feel like.” Her legs were swaying, the backs of her thighs hitting the blanket draped over the edge of her bed. She hummed in thought, noticing the way Theo’s jaw began to tick.
“What about that Mexican place?” This was the third place he had offered and even he noted the desperation in his voice.
“Do you want to go there?”
Theo had had enough. He knew the pretty girl sitting in front of him was hopeless at making decisions, but this was too far.
“We’re going to the pizza place you like, okay?” Before she could open her mouth he continued, “C’mon, get up, we’re going.” And his arm was shooting out towards her so she grabbed hold of it and kept her mouth shut.
And it was only after they left Hogwarts that she admitted to her pretty boyfriend that she liked when he ordered for her, because that was what he always did. And once he had this admission, Theo made sure his pretty girlfriend never had to make an order for whatever it was her heart desired.
“I don’t know what a feel like, maybe I’ll just get cheese.” She put the pizza menu down and looked at Theo who was already looking back at her.
“Sounds good.” He wasn’t too interested in the topic of the conversation, but he always made sure the pretty girl in front of him had his full attention.
“What are you getting?”
Theo knew what would happen the second he answered, and like clockwork, she immediately replied, “Ooh, maybe I’ll get that too.”
“You can have some of mine,” he offered.
“But yours sounds better.”
“We can have half of each.”
But she wasn’t listening, her attention was drawn back to the paper menu in front of her.
“I think I’m going to get vegetarian, instead,” she hummed.
“Whatever you want, princess.”
He watched her bit her bottom lip, and the skin above her nose crinkle.
“Nah, I’ll get cheese.” Before Theo could respond she continued, “No, vegetarian.” Theo didn’t respond. “No, definitely cheese.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
And Theo thought he really couldn’t be to blame for his control issues when his girlfriend was like this.
When the waiter came over and looked at her first, she gave them a polite smile, but then returned her attention to the pretty boy in front of her, undeterred by the waiters lack of attention and relaying their order in full confidence.
“-and a vegetarian pizza please,” he finished, making the decision for her.
She liked not having to worry about trivial things like this, and Theo liked making sure he could rid a worry as small as this. Because that was all he wanted. For her to receive the best.
Which was why, the night after her friends had called him controlling, he decided that he didn’t like the sound of these ‘work friends’.
And, no, it wasn’t just because they had caled him controlling. Merlin, most of his friends told him to his face that he was controlling. He already knew that.
It was because even though they had invited her to go out countless times since that night, he didn’t properly meet them until her birthday.
He had offered to bring them in when he brought her in, but she brushed him off.
“I offered, but they declined,” she shrugged her shoulders, looking at the mirror in the sun shade for the passenger seat, missing the way Theo kept glancing over to her.
When he picked her up he asked again if anyone needed a ride home, just like the good boyfriend he was.
“I offered, but they said they were fine.” Yet when the drover around the corner a small sound of surprise left her pretty lips.
“What’s wrong, princess?” Theo’s eyes kept flicking away from the road, trying to read her pretty face that was staring out of her window.
“Nothing,” she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to face him, giving him a faux reassuring look.
“Tell me,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument.
“They’re just in line for another club,” she gave another shrug as if this had no importance, but it did to Theo because he could tell, even though she tried to hide it, that it had importance to the pretty girl sitting next to him.
“I thought you were all going home,” he squinted his eyes slightly as he turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. When they drove past a light, he could see that she was chewing the edge of her lip.
“I thought so,” she shrugged, finally turning to him, “oh well, I was ready to go home anyway.” She gave him a smile and if Theo hadn’t spent three years of his life with her, he would be convinced she was fine.
It didn’t take long for Theo to decide that he didn’t like these so called friends. He didn’t explicitly tell his girlfriend this, but he didn’t hide his disdain either.
When they cancelled plans and she went over to his house instead he’d angrily ask, “Well did they tell you why?”
“One of them had other dinner plans.”
“But you had planned this a week ago.”
She shrugged, “something came up.”
The look he gave her was enough for her to know that he wasn’t happy so she changed the subject. “I really want to watch this new movie tonight, I don’t think you’ll love it, but I think you’ll tolerate it.”
When he got a phone call from her barely an hour after they had gone out, reassuring him that she was okay, but she wanted to go home, he’d demand, “It was them wasn’t it, what did they do?”
And even though he hadn’t said who ‘them’ were she’d still say, “no I’m just not feeling up to partying tonight.”
Even though she sheepishly admitted that they were more interested in hooking up with some random guys then staying out together for their girls night which she originally thought was the plan.
“That’s horrible.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. Do you think we can stop for some ice cream on the way home though?”
The reality was, it was easy for her to say that Theo was just being his usual controlling herself. This was how normal friendships worked. And she didn’t have a lot of friends. She had her Hogwarts friends, but they were older now and weren’t in contact as much. And it was a much easier thought that this was what friendship was like rather than facing the fact that she didn’t really have any friends. Besides Theo of course.
But she wouldn’t tell him these thoughts because she knew he would go on a rampage unti she was happy, so she never expanded on it and made sure that Theo never got a chance to tell her he hated her friends, even if she was certain he despised them.
A few months later, just after they had been together for four years, Theo knew that it was time to make his lovely girlfriend his lovely wife, and he wasn’t going to let her friends come in the way of that, not when they had gotten this far.
They had a small engagement party with their friends from Hogwarts and a couple of their work friends. She had, of course, invited those two girl from work, even if Theo had rolled his eyes behind her back when she informed him.
It started when the two girls started fawning over her ring.
“I need to know how much this cost.”
Sure, Theo was the first to admit he had traditional values. She had teased him before about being old-fashioned. But he didn’t think discussing the price of his fiance’s engagement ring was an appropriate topic, especially in front of two girls he had maybe met twice, and didn’t exactly like.
“He refuses to tell me,” the pretty girl grabbing his hand had answered instead. “He’s too old fashioned.”
Her eyes flickered to him to let him know that she was joking and he gave her hand a itte squeeze to let her know that he knew.
“Oh come on,” one of them said, “I’m dying to know.”
The conversation lasted another couple of minutes with his pretty girl trying to swerve around the question while he remained silent. Which was unusual for Theodore Nott.
Sure, he was a man of little words. And he much preferred to sit and observe rather than get invovled in the action. But that was always the opposite when it came to the pretty girl next to him. But he thought that if he opened his mouth, none of the three girls around him would like what would come out.
But then it continued when one of them tried to flirt with Blaise albeit his polite refusal, not wanting to make a scene at one of his best mate’s engagements.
Theo didn’t think anything of it until she had the audacity to come over to him and ask him about it.
“You know your friend Blaise?”
“Obviously.”
“What’s his story?”
Theo refused to answer. They were in a private room and he was standing next to the bar, a drink in hand and he sipped it to avoid responding.
Unsprusingly, she continued anyway.
“Like, is he in a relationship? I didn’t think he was but then he refused me, but he is quite fit, I think, and he said this wasn’t the place for it, but I think he was just playing hard to get, what do you think?”
He was going to be drunk quite soon if she kept talking to him.
“I think I’ll try again. Merliln, I love being friends with someone who has hot friends.”
Theo downed the rest of his drink and promised himself that he was going to push the conversation out of his mind.
And he probably would have if his pretty girl didn’t come up to him with a nervous look in her eyes, less than thirty minutes later.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you think we coud do cake now?”
Everyone had just finished eating and the volume of the music had increased to encourage people to start dancing. She was on her tippy toes, bringing her lips close to his ear so he could hear. Theo had his next drink in hand, but he was sipping it sowly after drinking the last so fast.
“We just finished eating darling, give it a minute.”
“I know but-” she gave herself away when she turned to look at the two girls Theo was trying to ignore the whole night. “They need to leave.”
“They need to?”
The way she biting her lip and swaying on the spot was all Theo needed to see to tell him that that his pretty girl was lying to him.
“Well, they got a call from one of their friends and-”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Theo,” she whined. She knew the exact tone she needed to use to make Theo do whatever she wanted. But this apparently only worked for frivolous things. Not something like this.
“No, we are doing cake later. If they need to leave, let them. But we are not doing it now just for them.”
“But-”
“I said no.”
He hated the way she practically deflated in front of him.
He hated that her bottom lip was trembling.
He hated that they were doing this on their engagement.
But she had to stop making excuses for these horrible people.
“Will you tell them no?” Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure he would have understood her if he wasn’t watching her intently.
“I’ll tell them more than just no.”
“Theo,” she whined, but he had already put his drink down and was storming over to them.
“So you’re leaving?” Theo asked the two girls sitting down at one of the tabes. He had risen to his full height and she was immediately taken back to her Hogwarts days when rising to his full height meant nothing good and definitely something physical.
“Yeah, but we’ll wait until you do cake.” One of them responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She was squeezing his hand so hard Theo was convinced she’d leave bruises. Not that he minded. But her nervous energy was rubbing off on him and he wanted to send her away, just like he’d do back in Hogwarts when he’d rise to his full height.
“Well we just ate, so we probably won’t do cake until later.”
“Oh,” one of the girls said, “but we’re leaving now.”
“Well, thank you for coming.”
“Ok,” the other said, standing up. “But I tought you said you’d do cake now?” She asked, turning to the small girl hiding behind her fiance.
“I-”
“I said it was too early.” Theo cut her off.
And that was the end of that conversation. After a very awkward goodbye hug, the two girls had left.
She didn’t know what to say to Theo. In once instance, she was glad that he had dealt with it. She didn’t really want to do the cake now, it was too early. But she also didn’t want to confront the two girls, she had to see them at work every day!
So even though Theo wanted to let out some sarcastic remark about how nice her friends were. He refrained when he saw the confused look on his pretty girls face.
Upon reflection, this was the night everything turned messy.
The next Monday the two girls had confided in their friend.
“Don’t you think he’s a bit controlling?” One of them asked, trying to make their voice unaccusing but failing horribly.
She shrugged as she said, “he means well. And, yeah, he is, but I don’t mind.”
She didn’t dare tell Theo this, who, the night after the engagement, had decided he could bring up how much he hated her friends.
“I don’t like them.” He had brought up after they had finished opening all of their well wishes.
She already knew who he was talking about.
“They mean well.”
“Do they?” He was sitting on the lounge and she had gotten up from her place on the floor to sit next to him.
“Most of the time,” she laughed, even though he didn’t think it was funny. “They’re just different to us.”
“Well I don’t like them.”
She bit her lip.
“I’m sorry.” Theodore gave her a look. Of course it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t control who she worked with.
“I just wish they treated you better.” She thought that if they continued with this conversation she’d start crying so she changed the conversation.
“We have to thank Draco for his very generous gift.”
Theo wanted to tell her that if he had his way, she would never see them again. He’d help her find a new job, or better yet, she wouldn’t have to work. His family were part of the Sacred 28, she didn’t need to work.
But even with his controlling streak, he knew that might be a bit too far.
That was until a couple of months later when it was her birthday. Theo had surprised her with a little trip that required her to take a couple of weeks off work. Which he had already organised.
The two girls were bummed when she said this would mean she wouldn’t be having a birthday party.
“But we can still party when I get back!” She had exclaimed.
“So I won’t get to see Blaise again? I really thought I had a shot.” She had gotten in response.
Theo had organised for her to have a week off before they actually left and on the night before he could finally have her all to himself she was sitting with her head against the back of their bed, biting her lip and staring at her phone.
“What’s wrong princess?” Theo had asked, lying down next to her.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He repeated.
“I just, it’s stupid.” She said, turning her phone off and letting her head rest on the pillow next to his.
“If it makes you look that stressed I’m sure it’s not.”
“It’s just, they haven’t messaged me all week.”
Theo already knew who they were.
Theo wasn’t sure why this frivolous thing was his tipping point but for some reason it was.
She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but it felt good to get off her chest.
“I messaged them on Monday to say I’d miss them and hoped work wasn’t too boring without me, but they haven’t replied.” Her voice broke at the end of the sentence and Theo was convinced that was why he had chosen now to tip.
“Don’t message them.”
“What?” She turned her head to face him.
“Don’t message them, see how long it takes for them to reach out.”
“Theo, you’re being ridiculous.” He gave her a look to let her know he didn’t like the words that left her pretty mouth. “We’re going away, I want to enjoy my time with you, don’t do this.”
Much to his annoyance, Theo did as she said, trying to put it to the back of his mind so they could enjoy the trip he had been planning for months.
But a part of her thought back to what Theo had said many years ago in his car when they were going home from Draco’s.
“I know what’s best.”
And she had spent so many years with Theo and there was a reason for this. She trusted him. So even though she made no commitment to it, a piece of her thought that she would listen to his advice.
For the actual day of her birthday, Theo had planned a special dinner for her. He had gone to extreme lengths to make sure her day was perfect, which was why he couldn’t understand why his girl had a sad aura around her as she got ready for dinner.
“What’s wrong, princess?”
“Nothing, Theo,” she said, trying to look up at him with sincerity. They were both dressed and ready, standing in their hotel room with their hands intertwined.
“Princess.”
“I’m just-” she looked at the ground, “they haven’t messaged me.”
“Since we left?”
She nodded.
“Not even today?”
She shook her head.
Theo was ready to apparate back home and give them a piece of his mind, but instead he grabbed her chin and made her look up at him.
“Please don’t worry your pretty little head about this, they don’t deserve you.”
She was shocked with his response. She was sure he was going to apparate home and give them a piece of his mind. But he didn’t. And he was a calm in a very un-Theo like manner. And she liked it. So she trusted him.
So he took her out for dinner and he made her feel like the most special girl in the world. And he did the same for the rest of their trip.
On the last day they were both on their backs, lying in bed. The bedside lamp was on and Theo turned to see her eyes closed, but a pretty smile gracing her lips that told him she was awake.
“Darling,” she opened her eyes and turned to him, humming in acknowledgement. “I called work today, told them to give you an extra week off.”
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a fraction of a second before she pieced the pieces together and nodded.
“Thank you.”
Theo had also taken a week off work to be with herand he became aware that her mood was quick to fluctuate.
After her birthday, Theo distracted her and she was happy. But the day before he could sense the nervous energy radiating from her being which magically disappeared the second he told her he had told work to give her another week.
Similarly, he noticed she was okay when she was distracted during that extra week off. Until the weekend came.
It was Saturday night and she was in the shower and Theo had been thinking about this for a while. He knew it was wrong. Knew it was crossing so many lines. But he couldn’t let his fiance suffer like this.
He grabbed her phone from the bedside table and put in her password. He scrolled through her messages. Many of the last messages being from her, thanking various people for the kind birthday messages. When he found the groupchat he was looking for, he didn’t hesitate.
The last message had been from her, the week before they left. Theo swore at them in his head.
This is Theo, I think it’s best you delete her number from your phone. She won’t be coming back to work and she deserves better than the shit you’ve given her.
Theo almost found it humorous that within seconds he got a reply.
What the fuck?
Look who’s talking
He scoffed at both of their replies and waited unti they stopped typing.
You literally control everything she does
Maybe if she didn’t have such a controlling boyfriend we’d be able to have more fun with her
Theo debated blocking their number, but he just couldn’t resist.
Right, like the fun you had with her on our engagement? Before you left after barely an hour for some random guy
It was silent for a minute.
Before you practically kicked us out
Theo let out a quiet laugh
We love her and just want what’s best for her
Theo heard the shower turn off and his heart dropped.
Yeah, and that’s why you never wished her happy birthday. Fuck off
And with that he blocked both numbers, deleted the group chat from her history, turned her phone off and put it where he found it.
That was the easy part. Now he just had to convince her not to go to work.
She came out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around her body, loose strands of hair falling from her bun.
He could sense an unspoken sadness and he wondered if she could sense his unspoken annoyance.
“Darling, “ he began, sitting on the edge of the bed as she made her way over to him. If he didn’t have a job to complete, he would’ve taken more time to appreciate the way she instinctively sat on his lap. “I’ve been thinking,” he cleared his throat as she looked up at him. The image of innocence on her pretty face. “Do you really want to work?”
Apparently it wasn’t too hard to convince her to give it up. He had started explaining, “You know, you’re marrying into the Sacred 28 and I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you give it up-” which he totally was, “but I just want what’s best for you and-”
“Theo,” she interrupted. “I’d like that.” And she gave him a swift kiss before getting up and getting changed into her pyjamas.
When she came back and joined him in bed he turned to her and said, “I’ll ring them tomorrow,” and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
She wasn’t stupid. She had been waiting weeks for a message from them and when she couldn’t even find the groupchat she knew something had happened. Knew that Theo was somehow involved. She debated asking him about it, but did she really want to know? She knew it must have happened while she was in the shower. She could practically hear Theo’s heart beating when she was sitting on his lap, but she was happy to live in denial. Her boyfriend was protective and he liked to look out for her, even if it sometimes crossed the line. But she was happy to put the blame on her two friends, and she fell asleep easy that night knowing that the boy who had his arm around her would always have her back.
#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott angst#theodore nott fluff#tn#tnf#tna#tni#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter blurb#harry potter fluff#harry potter angst#hp#hp imagine#hp blurb#hp fluff#hp angst
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Me & The Devil P.1 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine
Set during Order of the Phoenix to DHP2
Harry Potter Masterlist | Part 2 Here
Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic)
Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k
Requested 📨 yes/no
Premise: Everyone has light and dark inside them. That’s what Sirius told Harry that night in Grimmauld Place. It was how one chooses to act that sets the stone of who they are as a person. It’s something Harry has to remind himself when he encounters Sirius’s cousin, the youngest of the Black sisters, Y/n. After 14 years in a cold, dark cell, Y/n’s accepted she no longer believes in angels. And the Devil himself wouldn’t want to cross her
Note: this is part 1 to a 2 part imagine where I had the idea that Sirius had another cousin, Bellatrix & Narcissa's youngest sister who has quite the age gap between them and was forced to become a death eater but has no loyalty to either side since both failed her. Part 2 should be out later this week so i hope you enjoy this!
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The floors of 12, Grimmauld Place creaked beneath Harry’s shoes as he entered the room at the end of the staircase he had been following Hermoine and Ron down. What drew his attention in the first place was the wallpaper. A green based mural branching out in the form of a tree. As Harry got closer he made out the portraits embedded into the wall, as were their names, birthdates and date of death if they’d passed. Some areas were black, covering up the picture seated above the name.
Harry flinched back upon notice of the house elf, Krecher, nestled inside the room. He mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, then said, “Harry Potter. The boy who stopped the Dark Lord. Friend of mudbloods and blood traitors alike.” Unsure of what to say, Harry just stood looking down at the elf in silence. “My poor mistress--.” A loud voice cut him off.
“Kreacher!” It belonged to Sirius. “That’s enough of your bile.” Waving a finger, he dismissed the elf. “Away with ya!”
Clasping his hands, Krecher lowered his head, “Of course, Master. Kreacher is pleased to serve the Noble House of Black.” He stalked off and away from the two. Passing Sirius on his way out.
Entering the room, Sirius gave an apologetic look, “Sorry about that. He never was very pleasant--even when I was a boy.” There was a slight pause, “not to me.”
Surprise took over Harry’s face, “Wh-wha-you grew up here?”
“This is my parents' house,” his Godfather explained, “I offered it up to Dumbledore as headquarters for the Order.” A hand trailed the edge of the doorway, “About the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Dark eyes landed on the mural, seeing it was the object of Harry’s attention, “This is the Black family tree.”
Sirius couldn’t help but land his gaze on the branches depicting his cousins. Andromeda’s was burnt out, much like his. The only cousin he was still fond of.
Well…..she wouldn’t have been the only one.
For Narcissa, under her name was Lucius Malfoy, with a branch leading to their only son, Draco. Sirius’s eyes narrowed on the one beside Andromeda’s.
“My deranged cousin,” Harry picked up on the distaste in his tone. Following Sirius’ gaze where it landed on the portrait of a young woman with wild curly hair and high cheekbones. Bellatrix. Beneath her name was Rodolphus Lestrange. “I hated the lot of them.”
Looking past the next portrait, though Harry caught his posture stiffen when his eyes glazed over it, Sirius maintained his composure. Focusing back on his hateful family, “My parents with their blood mania.” Raising his hand, his fingers brushed over the blackened spot where his face once laid. Sadness laced his voice, “My mother did that after I ran away. Charming woman,” his arm dropped back to his side. “I was sixteen.”
Part of him wanted to question his Godfather’s reaction to the portrait, but knew it wasn’t the right moment. He was curious. Especially since the name was unlike the other members of the House of Black. Like Narcissa, she wasn’t named after a celestial body or constellation.
Frowning, feeling the hurt radiate off Sirius, Harry instead asked, “Where did you go?”
“To your dad’s. I was always welcomed at the Potters,” A small smile curled on Sirius’ lips as he glanced over Harry. Kind eyes the boy had grown accustomed to. “I see him so much in you, Harry. You are so very much alike.”
The next few minutes involved Harry confessing to Sirius his connection to Voldemort. Voicing concern of the possibility he was turning into him. Sirius assured Harry he was a good person, who’s had bad things happen to him. Followed by educating the boy on how everyone had their own angels and demons. Light and dark. Good and bad. How the only thing that matters is what part people chose to act on.
The entire time Sirius explained this to Harry, he thought of the portrait behind him. Almost like her painted eyes were boring into the back of his head. Reminding him of how he failed her. Much like everyone else in their family.
Once good. Turning bad due to the odds against her.
Maybe there was still some good deep down. Sirius prayed so. But the chances of him ever discovering were about as slim as convincing the Minister Voldermort was back.
“Sounds like you know from experience,” Harry said aloud, eyes trailing to the portrait behind Sirius. The one he noticed him trying to avoid. Yet managing to show how deeply this relative affected him.
Sighing, the man turned on his heel, staring at the portrait. No longer able to visibly hide his emotion as he read the name Y/n -- 1967.
“My cousin, Y/n,” his tone lacked malice compared to when he spoke of Bellatrix. “The youngest of the Black sisters. My aunt and uncle were shocked to learn they were expecting a fourth child--nearly twelve years after they had Narcissa.” Fingers brushed over her name, smiling softly as memories surfaced in his mind like a film. “Drove her parents wild with her energy. I was eight when she was born, and as I got older she’d follow me around the house. A little shadow if I must say.” Harry heard him chuckle to himself, “one summer I brought her to meet your father and Remus--didn’t tell her mother mind you. I nearly met my end at the hands of Druella’s wand when we returned that night.” It was as clear as if it were yesterday.
Young 14 year old Sirius with Y/n, aged six at the time, on his hip as they made their way to Diagon Alley to buy sweets she was not allowed to have. She instantly fell in love with James and Remus, as did the boys adore her. She was so different from her older sisters--who had graduated Hogwarts ages ago and were off with their own lives. Meaning the child was alone majority of the time with only the house elves tending to her. Her father worked and her mother did the bare minimum. That’s why Sirius would visit her often. To make sure she was okay. Y/n clinged to Sirius like a puppy. Much like that day where she begged to go with him to meet his friends. She wanted to explore the outside world her parents isolated her from.
Y/n didn’t display the blood mania her family was known for. And when her parents would preach it, the girl kept her attention on her dolls and drawing pictures with her crayons Sirius had smuggled her. The older cousin prayed she’d never turn out like them. Only he knew with the tensions of a certain Dark Wizard making rounds in London, Sirius feared for Y/n’s safety. And sanity. Especially after overhearing Bellatrix’s plans to begin teaching Y/n the dark arts before she entered Hogwarts.
If only Sirius took her away. Brought her to the safety of the Potters like she wanted. “You can’t leave, Sirius,” she cried, the now eight-year old grasping his pant leg to prevent him from leaving the house. Tears painted her chubby face. It broke his heart to see. “Please don’t leave me here--I-I’m scared of them. P-please, cousin. Take me with you!”
Oh how he wanted to. If he did then he’d save Y/n from her fate. From Bellatrix. From Voldemort. But a kidnapping charge he’d surely receive by taking Y/n Black away from her parents would have Sirius spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.
A reality he’d face years later for a different reason.
“What happened to her?” Harry’s voice brought him out his thoughts. The man shrugged his shoulders to shake off the tension in his muscles. A frown painted his features.
“She’s serving a life sentence in Azkaban.” It hurt him more to say it out loud. The reality had sunk in. As though it had been a dream the past 14 years. Sirius remembered how his heart dropped when the news spread of Y/n’s imprisonment. Bellatrix’s was no shock. He’d been hoping his deranged cousin would be locked away.
But his sweet baby cousin who cried when she saw her father yelling at the house elves. That he could’ve never imagined. Even when the headline on the Daily Prophet told him the truth in big, bold letters, ‘Life sentence for 15-year-old Death Eater, Y/n Black. Cousin of notorious mass murderer, Sirius Black and younger sister of Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange.’ Sirius didn’t believe for a second Y/n acted on her own accord.
“She was never like the rest of them,” He told Harry after a moment of silence. Noticing the boy’s worried look, Sirius softly shook his head. “My cousin is a rare case, Harry. A prime example of becoming everything she hated as a result of the circumstances around her. Not a day goes by where I don’t feel regret by not being there for her. Had I been so…,” he pictured what could’ve been, “She’d likely be here with us. The Order.”
Harry pictured it too. Sirius’s tone gives him indication that Sirius still cared for Y/n. Wishing fate had turned out different for her. For both of them.
Hermoine appeared moments later to announce they had to leave. Sirius ended the conversation with a promise to Harry that when all was over, they’d be a family again. Living in Grimmauld Place in peace. With a hug goodbye, Harry exited the room, but not before catching his Godfather gave one last glance to Y/n’s portrait.
Crouched in her cell, hands over her ears like they were most days, Y/n shook from the cold wind. Willing the voices in her head to disappear. A constant battle she faced everyday since the chains were first put on her. Some of them were the distant echo of Azkaban's prisoners below. Others she was sure she kept imagining.
The first two years Y/n cried every day. By the fifth year she stopped reacting to everything around her. Once the tenth year of her sentence passed, only a shell of her remained. Staring at the wall with her hands covering her ears. The same routine. Everyday.
But today was going to be different. The voices were louder than usual. Causing difficulty to keep them at bay.
Suddenly Y/n winced with a light shriek, a burning sensation erupting along her forearm. Gaze dropping down, the ink of where her dark mark laid bolded. The feeling intensified. Y/n didn’t know how to react. Only experiencing numbness at what it meant.
A loud explosion caught her attention on the left side of her cell. Followed by the maniacal laughter of her sister. Rising from her position, Y/n’s bare feet brushed against rocks and freezing water. Rats scurried past as she walked toward where the window of her cell had been. The wind grew stronger with each step, nearly sweeping her off balance.
When she breached the area responsible for the explosion, Y/n had a clear image of the sky above her. The ocean’s treacherous waves beneath her. And dementors flying rapidly in the distance. There was no stopping the smirk from painting her chapped lips. Her eyes that were normally empty pits of nothing, suddenly emerged with an emotion unable to contain.
She was free.
It was the only thing on his mind when he read the paper that morning. Plaguing his thoughts with a newfound fear. Everywhere he went that day Neville saw the headline, “Mass Breakout From Azkaban.” Following the names of the high security prisoners freed from its confines. On the front page below the headline, moving images of two women were enough to have some of the students shivering. Bellatrix, with her wild curly hair, appeared crazed. While the woman in the image beside her was in a state of despair. Neville shuddered when his eyes locked on hers. Y/n Black.
She couldn’t have appeared older than he was now. Fifteen.
Curiosity getting the best of him, Neville turned the page to read up more on the sisters. When he got to Y/n, Neville was shocked to learn the girl had been the youngest prisoner in Azkaban in its entire history. Aged fifteen, in her fifth year of Hogwarts. Juveniles were never sent to the hellish institution. Yet, due to the nature of her crimes and association to Voldermort, the Ministry bent laws to lock her up.
Reading the summary dedicated to her upbringing, Y/n had been sorted into Slytherin House at Hogwarts, skilled in Charms, and is alleged to be an Occulmens. It’s said she failed to return to Hogwarts during what would have been her fifth year. Not long after it was reported Y/n Black had been part of the group to torture esteemed Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom to gain information on Voldermort. Alongside her sister, Bellatrix, her brother-in-law, his brother and Barty Crouch Jr. During her arrest and trial, Y/n insisted she’d been forced to use the curse for fear the others would kill her.
Which was true. Bellatrix made it clear to the young Black what the consequences for stepping out of line would be.
But it wasn’t enough in the Ministry’s eyes. Not when the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix included, testified Y/n had complied with no resistance. And so the first juvenile, the youngest Death Eater, was locked away in Azkaban. The sentence: eternity.
Now she was free.
Later that day, during DA practice, Neville found himself in front of the mirror showing pictures and news articles relating to their cause. The others saying goodbye and making their way out of the Room of Requirement. Neville, however, remained. His stare on the image of the original Order of the Phoenix. His parents.
Harry came up beside him, neither addressing the other at first. Then, after a moment of silence and confidence, Neville confided in his friend.
“Fourteen years ago, a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange and her sister, Y/n Black, used the Cruciatus Curse on my parents. They tortured them for information, but they never gave in.” Looking down at Harry, Neville added after a pause, “I’m quite proud to be their son, but…I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to know just yet.”
Harry nodded, understanding what his friend was asking of him. Swearing to secrecy. “We’re gonna make them proud, Neville. That’s a promise.”
The Hall of Prophecies was dark. Eerie. The only light emitting from the group's wands and orbs lightly glowing in their stands. The group had rushed to the Ministry upon Harry’s vision Sirius had been taken hostage by Voldemort, tortured into telling him where the prophecy was. They were in for a shock when they arrived.
Sirius wasn’t there. Neither was Voldemort.
It was Neville who alerted the boy of the glass orb dedicated to him. Grasping it in his hand, the voice of Sybil Trelawney echoed through the silence, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not…..and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives….”
“Harry!” he turned to his friends, finding them frozen as they stared at the figure approaching. Harry pushed past, standing in front of the group. The figure was masked by a silver face, cloaked from head to toe.
A Death Eater.
“Where’s Sirius?” Harry questioned him,his wand raised.
“You know you really should know how to tell the difference between dreams…..” the man removed his wand from a familiar cane, waving it in front of his face to remove the mask. Revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy. “And reality.” Everyone tensed, anxiety starting to consume them. “You saw only what the Dark Lord wanted you to see. Now hand me the prophecy.” Harry stood his ground.
“You do anything to us I’ll break it.”
Suddenly a maniacal laugh entered the scene. Intensifying their unease. The shadow of someone behind Lucius coming toward the dim lights. “He knows how to play. Itty. Bitty. Baby. Potter.” The group’s eyes landed on the face of one of the women plastered on every front page of the Daily Prophet. Neville was the first to address her.
“Bellatrix Lestrange.”
“Neville Longbottom, is it?” she mocked with a wicked smile, “How’s mom and dad?” Lucius rolled his eyes at her antics. Neville, however, was enraged.
“Better now that they’re about to be avenged.” In a split second he lifted his want, hoping to cast a spell on the one responsible for his parents torture. Harry was quick to stop him, just as Bellatrix raised her own wand to defend herself.
“Now let’s…” Lucius slowly held his hands up. “Everybody just calm down. Shall we?” The group lowered their wands slightly, but not completely. “All we want is that prophecy.”
“Why did Voldermort need me to come get this?”
“You dare speak his name?” Bellatrix’s eyes widened, appalled by the boy’s courage. “You filthy Half-blood!!”
Again, Lucius attempted to de-escalate the scene, “It’s all right, he’s just a curious lad. Aren’t you?”
Before anyone spoke another word, footsteps from the side filled their ears. “You know what they say about curiosity?” her voice was raspy and void of any emotion. Almost robotic. Harry slowly turned his head, mentally preparing himself to face his Godfather’s youngest cousin. Beside him, Neville paled. Unable to comprehend being in the same room as the Black sisters. It was suffocating.
Y/n Black’s expression matched her tone. Numb. An empty shell was the best description. Not even reacting when Harry pointed his wand in her direction. She simply stalked toward them, finishing her riddle, “It killed the cat. But….something tells me you might be the lucky bastard to live to see it, Harry Potter.”
“Nice of you to finally join us, Y/n,” Lucius narrowed his eyes, watching her move so she was now in between the duo and group. Harry’s wand merely a few centimeters from her chest. The glowing light illuminating her face.
Comparing her to the portrait on the Black Family Tree, Harry noticed all the striking differences. Of course, nearly 15 years had passed since Y/n was locked away in Azkaban. Her baby fat completely gone, likely due from the malnourishment prison had to offer. However, unlike her sister Bellatrix and Sirius before them, Y/n did not come across as a walking corpse. Much time hadn’t passed since her escape, yet she looked healthy. Teeth white and hair silky. Nails long and painted black. Skin blemish free save for a tiny scar on her lip. She was strikingly beautiful.
Harry then remembered reading in the paper that Y/n was skilled in charms. Rumored to have created her own during her time at Hogwarts. She probably had one to alter her appearance. And considering Bellatrix looked rather unsettling, either Y/n did not offer her talent or Bellatrix refused. Judging by Y/n’s reaction to her associates, it was the former.
She ignored Lucius, answering Harry’s question instead, “Prophecies can only be retrieved by those about whom they are made. Which is lucky for you, really.” Her brow raised slightly, “Surely Sirius told you. He’d be foolish not when he knows the Dark Lord desires it.”
Backing away from Harry, Y/n turned on her heel, nudging Lucius with her shoulder causing him to groan. Focusing back on the task at hand, the blonde narrowed his eyes on Harry. “Haven’t you always wondered what was the reason for the connection between you and the Dark Lord?” He moved closer, hands still raised. It was then the group noticed more Death Eaters surrounding them. “Why he was unable to kill you when you were just an infant?”
Bellatrix trailed behind Lucius. Their associates closing in on the students. Meanwhile Y/n stayed behind, not bothering to engage. Harry caught her gaze a few times, noting how disinterested she was by the entire ordeal.
“Don’t you want to know the secret of your scar?” Lucius captured his attention once more. “All the answers are there. In your hand.” Lucius encouraged Harry with a look, “All you have to do is give it to me, and I can show you everything.”
“I’ve waited fourteen years,” Harry said, aware of the approaching footsteps of the Death Eaters getting louder. Waiting for the perfect moment.
“I know.”
“I guess I can wait a little longer--Now!!” Simultaneously, the group all shouted, “Stupefy!!”
After a brief fight against the Death Eaters to escape the Hall of Prophecies, the group found themselves falling to what they thought was their death. At the last second, Hermoine casted Arresto Momentum to slow time for them to safely land, grunting as their bodies met the rock. Scanning their surroundings, Harry spotted an archway with an iridescent glow to it. As he moved closer, voices were heard. “Voices, can you tell what they're saying?”
Confused, Hermoine replied with what they were all thinking, “There aren’t any voices, Harry. Let’s get out of here.”
“I hear them too,” Luna spoke, staring at the arch in wonder. It was difficult to hear clearly what the voices were saying. But they grew louder with each step.
“Harry,” Hermoine pleaded, “it’s just an empty archway.” In the distance, the group heard the Death Eaters approaching. “Please, Harry.” Harry spun around with his wand raised.
“Get behind me!” They followed his order, ready to confront the oncoming threat. They unfortunately, however, were blindsided when the Death Eaters in their black smokey form attacked from behind. Grunts and gasps left the teens, Harry dropping to the ground, clutching the prophecy in his hand. About 15 seconds passed before he opened his eyes to discover he was alone.
Dread consumed him, the boy standing to find his friends. He found them several feet away and spaced out. In the hands of Death Eaters. Ginny and Luna to his right, the Weasley girl gripped at the collar by Y/n Black. Neville struggles against Bellatrix Lestrange, Ron and Hermoine manhandled by the Lestrange brothers. A dry chuckle captured Harry’s attention, watching Lucius Malfoy stroll up to where he stood.
“Did you actually believe, or were you truly naive enough to think….children stood a chance against us?” Lucius made eye contact with the wicked smile of Bellatrix, whereas he met Y/n’s vicious glare. Her hold on Ginny wasn’t as tight as the others, almost like she didn’t view the girl as a threat.
“I’ll make this simple for you, Potter,” Lucius held out his hand. “Give me the prophecy now….or watch your friends die.” Harry looked at his friends, their frightened gazes making his heart fall to his stomach.
“Don’t give it to him, Harry!” Neville shouts, only to be hushed by Bellatrix, who snaps her wand from his head to his neck forcefully.
The Boy who Lived draws his eyes to the glowing prophecy. As if to be contemplating his choices, but deep down knew what he had to do. His friends were more important. He couldn’t risk their lives over a tiny orb. Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed the object in Lucius’s awaiting one. A satisfied smirk appears on the blonde’s lips. He had succeeded in his mission.
Or so he thought.
Bright light filled the area, Harry’s eyes widening as he took in the sight of Sirius behind Lucius. Malfoy’s expression turned to one of pure shock, meeting Sirius’s angry one.
“Get away from my Godson.” And before Lucius could react, he was falling to the ground from the force of Sirius’s right hook. More bright lights entered, members of the Order arriving. Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye.
In the chaos, the prophecy was thrown from Lucius’ hand, shattering as it hit the ground in a cloud of blue-green smoke. The man was in disbelief, and fear at what consequences awaited him.
Beyond him, Y/n released her hold on Ginny Weasley, slightly pushing her away causing the girl to stumble off the rocks. At that moment she met Sirius’ eyes for the first time in nearly 20 years. Their last encounter when he ran from home at 16, and Y/n only 8.
She watched the horror appear on his face. Lingering with regret. She could see him fighting with himself on how to react, she too was fighting that battle. Tears threatened to spill from both their eyes, Y/n’s bottom lip quivering. Overwhelmed by the reunion.
Where they were on opposite sides.
His expression read, ‘I won’t fight you, cousin,” which was enough for the woman to turn on her heel and drop to the ground. Ignoring Sirius shouting her name, Y/n leaned against the rock, waiting for an opportunity to run. Above her Sirius and Harry were dueling Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange. Bellatrix was being trailed in the air by their niece, Nymphadora Tonks, her diabolical laugh echoing against the walls.
A curse flew past her, hitting the rock causing Y/n to spin around where she met Lupin’s startled eyes. “Y/n….” the tone of his voice indicated he was surprised to see her. Likely assuming she’d been someone else. The werewolf always had a soft spot for the young Black. Thinking about the times she tagged along with them in Diagon Alley. Or when Sirius brought her to the Potter house and the two played with her in their animagi form to keep her entertained.
Now here she was with the enemy. A completely different person plagued with darkness. Lupin sighed, laced with despair, “Oh, love…what’ve they done to you?” Somehow that question was enough to send Y/n into a whirlpool of rage. How dare he say those words to her. When the Order had every opportunity to remove her from the Black household. When they could’ve placed her in hiding like James and Lily. Anything, to prevent the Death Eaters from claiming her.
“What you all failed to save me from.”
Before they knew it the two were dueling. Flashes of light leaving their wands, dodging those sent by the other. Despite Y/n spending half her life in prison with little combat experience under her belt, she was keeping up with Remus quite well. He noted the woman had yet to send a killing curse his way. Come to think of it, it appeared she was avoiding it all together. Unlike her associates who were not shy to use it.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Y/n,” Remus attempted to convince her to yield. Ducking when she shot a curse at his head.
Scoffing, the woman spat, “Foolish for you to think such, Remus.” Her next attempt to get him away with a curse was more forceful, “I know how this dance between us ends, and I’d rather be sent to hell itself than be chained in Azkaban once more. So either man up and kill me, or turn away so I can get the hell out of here.”
Remus became conflicted, “You know I can’t do that.” He referred to both options. Not having the strength or heart to kill his best friend's niece whom he once adored. But also not allowing her to escape.
“Shame then,” she hissed, “I’ll try not to make this hurt.” After much struggle, where Remus had the upper hand in the dool, Y/n managed to send him flying back several feet, taking her chance to run to the nearest doorway.
“Avada Kedavra!!” Bellatrix’s voice made her feeze, turning around in time to see the green light hit their cousin straight in the chest.
It was as if time had stopped. All fighting ceased. Y/n heard a loud gasp--a scream, realizing moments later she was the one responsible for it. Hand raising to cover her mouth. Frozen as she watched Sirius fall back into the archway. Disappearing forever.
The silence was then interrupted by Harry’s wails. Held by Remus, he fought against him as though he wanted to join his Godfather. Y/n remained still. Processing what just happened.
Sirius was dead. Her sister killed him.
Y/n had to get out of there. No doubt the Aurors were alerted. They’d be arriving any second.
Witnessing Harry take off after Bellatrix, Y/n met Remus’ eyes. The man silently pleading to her, completely distraught over the death of his best friend. With James and Sirius dead and Peter’s betrayal to Voldemort, he was alone.
Y/n shook her head, unable to face him any longer. Instead of running into the main lobby of the Department of Ministries, the Death Eater looked up and allowed the black smoke to consume her, flying away from the Order. Her associates followed suit.
When the Minister and Aurors entered the lobby to the horrifying scene, they understood the future became plagued with an unavoidable truth.
The night officially marked the beginning of the Second Wizarding War.
Rain pelted against the ground, falling from the gray clouds painting the sky. Strolling down alleyways of London, three sisters in black were on a mission to locate a certain home. Hiding behind corners whenever cars and people passed by. The one leading the trio was the reason for this side quest. Meanwhile the one falling back voiced opposition. For the youngest in the middle, she was rather bored. Not caring what would come out of this meeting.
If Y/n were honest, she just hated getting her outfit soaked.
“Cissy, you can’t do this,” Bellatrix hissed, trailing after her sisters. “He can’t be trusted.”
“The Dark Lord trusts him,” Naricssa rebutted, not sparing her a glance. Y/n simply rolled her eyes.
“The Dark Lord’s mistaken.”
“Shhh,” Y/n interrupted. While she may agree with Bellatrix to some degree, she knew better than to question his judgment aloud. Anyone could be lurking.
Children’s laughter filled their ears, the sisters leaning against the brick walls until they passed. Once clear, they turned the corner and knocked on the door. Waiting for him to answer.
Instead of Snape, the trio were greeted by Wormtail--who was visibly surprised to see them on the steps of Snape’s home. Y/n gave one death glare to the man and he immediately opened the door fully to let them inside. Water droplets fell from their coats, Y/n waved her wand to dry herself, feeling satisfied with a low ‘hmm’.
Wormtail escorted them to the library, where Snape sat in a chair reading the Daily Prophet. Folding the paper, the sisters were greeted by his blank stare. “Run along, Wormtail.” With a flick of his wrist Wormtail was pushed out, door slamming in his face. Y/n smirked, overlooking Snape with a raised brow.
He matched her gaze, the two in silent conversation. Like they each had their secrets the other knew of…
In that moment Y/n thought back to the moment she and Snape reunited after her escape from Azkaban. Neither were fools to the other's facade. Both able to mask it with their talents in both Legilimency and Occlumency.
“I know your true intentions, Severus. You are not part of his cause anymore and haven’t been for fifteen years. Do not stand there and lie to me, I don’t take kindly to liars.”
“Make no mistake then, Y/n, you also have motives not aligned with the Dark Lord. You do not care who wins this battle, only that your freedom is the outcome. He’d not take kindly to your…..deception.”
“Then I guess this means you and I….have a lot to lose if we are not careful. I’ll say no word. I expect you to do the same.”
“You have yourself a deal.”
Wine was poured, Y/n and Narcissa seated in chairs while Snape and Bellatrix remained standing. The eldest sister pacing along the fireplace. Narcissa was the first to speak, “I-I-I know I am not to be here,” Pausing she shot Y/n a hesitant look, which was ignored. “The Dark Lord, himself, forbade me to speak of this--.”
“If the Dark Lord has forbidden it, you are not to speak--but it down, Bella, we mustn’t touch what isn’t ours,” Annoyed, the woman placed the object back on the mantel. Giving Snape a look of, ‘there, happy?’ He turned back to Narcissa, “As it so happens, I’m aware of your situation, Narcissa.”
“You?” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, “The Dark Lord told you.”
Snape briefly glanced at Y/n, “Your sister doubts me.” The woman smirked.
“She doubts everyone,” she felt Bellatrix’s glare, paying no mind. “It’s not personal.”
“Understandable. Over the years I’ve played my part well--so well I’ve deceived one of the greatest wizards of all time.” Y/n sipped her wine to hide the smirk on her face.
For she knew exactly who he was referring to.
Unlike Bellatrix who simply snorted. Snape dismissed her remark, “Dumbledore is a great wizard. Only a fool would question it.”
Y/n examined her wine, acting like it was the most curious thing in the room. Rather bored by the conversation and Snape’s persistence of convincing her sisters of his motives. Bellatrix obviously had her suspicions. Narcissa, however, took the bait.
“I don’t doubt you, Severus.”
“You should be honored, Cissy,” Bellatrix told her. “As should Draco.” Of course her deranged self would see it that way. 16 year-old Draco tasked with the difficult mission to assassinate Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Punishment for Lucius for failing Voldemort too many times. The most recent being the damn prophecy he was to fetch.
Y/n couldn’t help but feel smug at the Malfoys predicament. Lucius deserved all he got. And while Narcissa may have been her sister, Y/n harbored enough anger and resentment to not feel sympathy for her. Draco was the only one innocent in the matter.
Narcissa’s face fell at Bellatrix’s words, pleading to Snape with her eyes, “He’s just a boy.”
“I cannot change the Dark Lord’s mind,” that was true. Nothing could alter Voldermort’s decision once it was made. Snape did have an idea, “But it might be possible for me to help Draco.”
That was enough for Narcissa. The woman rising from her seat, “Severus--.” She was cut off by Bellatrix.
“Swear to it. Make the unbreakable vow.” She moved toward them, circling Severus as her tone turned to mockery, “It’s just empty words.” Now Narcissa’s face read she wanted the same. Bellatrix continued, “He’ll give it his best, but when it matters most,” her chin rested on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “He’ll just slither back into his hole. Coward,” she ended as she passed him.
Y/n stared at her associate, watching his reaction carefully. It was obvious the insult poked deep in his core. Though Snape did not let it show.
“Take out your wand.”
The sisters were pleased. Visibly showing this as they looked at each other. Y/n stood from her chair, moving closer as Narcissa and Snape held each other's wrists. Bellatrix withdrew her wand, allowing the glowing strands to encompass their hands.
“Will you, Severus Snape, watch over Draco Malfoy as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?”
“I will.”
Water glossed over Narcissa’s eyes, Bellatrix continued, “And will you, to the best of your abilities,” her chin rested this time on Narcissa’s shoulder, the two staring him down like a hawk. Y/n sipped her glass, leaning her head against Narcissa’s other shoulder, smirking slightly at the scene. “Protect him from harm?”
“I will.”
Bellatrix walked so she was directly in front of Snape, “And, if Draco should fail…will you yourself, carry out the deed the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?” The pause was longer, Narcissa practically shaking making Y/n move away.
Finally, Snape made the last vow, “I will.”
The glowing strands disappeared, leaving scars on the two. A permanent reminder of the promise made. To protect Draco from harm and finish the job if it came to it.
Otherwise, the Devil would visit Snape earlier than planned.
#Spotify#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfiction#slytherin!reader#harry potter x reader#Sirius black x platonic!reader#remus lupin x reader#the order of the phoenix#hp imagine#hp fanfiction#harry potter angst#severus snape imagine#hp angst#marauders angst#bellatrix lestrange#narcissa malfoy#tom riddle#death eaters#house of black
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Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)
This is territory i haven't explored, so I apologize if it is not what you are after (All parties are 18+)
DBF!James Potter x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut, Age gap, Jealousy, Size Kink, Some Degredation, masturbation, oral sex male recieving
Bless Theodore Nott’s money and his want to date you, even if it would never happen… the money, the cars, they were both wonderful reasons to take little trips home to visit your little brother.
"I had a great time with you today, I'd love to see you again sometime." Theo said, and you nodded. You’d missed him, he was such a good friend.
"Absolutely." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand before you straightened up. "I'll see you later." You called over your shoulder, and you waited for him to speed away before you turned toward your house, making a beeline for your door. You didn’t want anyone to see you getting in, this was a quiet visit, you weren’t wanting to get in any conversation-.
"Y/N. I didn't realize you were home from University." You jumped, glancing over to see your neighbor, Mr. Potter, leaning on his lawnmower, sweaty from lawnwork. God, he was so hot… you’d forgotten that, forgotten how hot he’d looked at your father’s pool party… that was the last time you’d truly seen him, you’d left for University the week after.
"Mr. Potter! Hi, yes, I'm home for the weekend, just needed to see-." He raised an eyebrow, running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sort of grunt.
"Some boy." He finished, and you sighed, shaking your head. No, going out with him was a chance to spend time with an old friend. It was not the reason why they went home.
"My brother, is what I was actually going to say." You said, and he nodded, looking skeptical as he straightened up, stretching up, drawing attention to his waistline, your eyes being drawn down to his crotch. God, you wanted to ride his cock.
"Hm." He examined his nails, giving you a look. "Certainly seemed like you were here for someone else entirely." Why did he care? This didn’t affect him at all, he’d barely paid you any mind aside from the times that you’d babysat Harry… Granted, he was a bit more reclusive since he lost his wife, so it wasn’t surprising.
"I can't hang out with an old friend from high school?" You asked, and he chuckled, shrugging as he wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. You tried to not stare at his exposed lower stomach, the tight abs, the line of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline... you clenched your thighs and glanced away, trying to cast any thoughts of your father's best friend out of your mind.
"A friend who wanted to fuck you." James snapped, his tone coming out a little bit rough, a little bit dangerous, making a shiver run down your spine. God, if you didn't know any better you'd think that James Potter was jealous... He probably wasn;t, but the bare idea of it was enough to make your knees get weak, thinking about him taking you right and now, making you scream his name and apologize for your attitiude.
"He does not-." He cut you off quickly, frustrating you with the way that he did that with ease, placing his large hand on your shoulder. Like he did it all the time.
"Oh, please. I'm a man, I know when someone wants that. I know it very well." He said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest as he walked over to you. You looked up at him, setting your jaw. Yeah, he was hot, but why was he being so fucking cocky about this?
"How would you know? No one's fucked you since your wife passed away." You fired back, and he scoffed, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he took a large step back. Well, that was very telling, you knew you were probably right, but god...
"You have no way of knowing that." He snapped, and you smirked, shrugging your shoulders as you rested your hands on your hips. He was such an open book, it was no surprise you'd figured that out with ease.
"Except for perception. It's clear." You said, and James was silent for a moment before he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.
"Is this how your father taught you to talk to his friends?" He asked, and you shrugged. Honestly, your father had never really given you any direction on how to talk to his friends because you rarely even thought of talking to them in the first place
"My father didn't ever tell me how to talk to his friends." You said, and he shook his head, grimacing as he took a step back onto his side of the lawn, walking away backwards.
"Stay away from that boy-." You cut him off, feeling frustrated. He didn't control you, he wasn't anything more than a man who was occasionally in your house... unless he was making you cum, he had no control over that, and that was simply a pipe dream.
"I don't have to do a single thing that you say. I'm an adult, I'll hang out with whoever I please. I'll fuck whoever I goddamn please. Goodbye." You walked up to your door, yanking on it. locked. And you knew your keys were on your desk. You shook your head and sighed, resting it against the door. "Shit." You hissed, and a moment later you heard someone walking up behind you.
"Y/N? Are you alright?" James asked and you turned around, giving him a small smile as you shook your head. All the frustration was draining from that situation now that you were locked out, now you were just angry at yourself for leaving your keys at home.
"No. I'm locked out and my father is out for the night." You sighed, and James raised his eyebrow, clearly not seeing the problem.
"Can't your brother come to the door?"
"He's at a sleepover tonight, so he's not home either." You explained, and James chewed on his lip for a moment before jerking his head towards his house.
"I have an empty guest room. It's getting late, come inside." James said, and you paused. While he was being nice, you still didn't feel you should come in unless the invitation was only a formality.
"I don't want to put you out-." He waved you off. Okay.
"Y/N. I offered. Please come in." He said, and you nodded, following him across his lawn and into his house.
"God, I haven't been in here for months." You sighed, taking in the house. It looked more or less the same, but it felt different. More like a house and less like a home... Lily had brought it to home status.
"It's a little messy." He said, and you shrugged. There were some empty bottles and a couple of things strwen about, but it wasn't dirty. Just... human.
"It just looks lived in, that's better than looking clincal." You said, and he nodded, sighing as he rested his hands on his hips. He had bags under his eyes, looking more stressed the longer you actually took in his frame.
"That's... thank you." He said, and you nodded. You meant it, it was still comforting even if it wasn't the same.
"Of course."
"Well..." He rubbed the back of the neck, both of you standing awkwardly for a moment. You could kiss him, no one could stop you... but if he didn't want that, that would be bad. "Guest room is down the hall. I'm going to go into my room, the door will be shut, just knock if you need anything." He said, and you nodded.
"Okay." You had nothing to wear to bed... that either meant sleeping naked or sleeping in jeans. "Shit." You whispered, and he paused, turning around to look at you.
"What?" He asked, and you waved him off. Truly it was such a small thing.
"Nothing, don't worry about it." You said, and he let out a chuckle, leaning aganist the wall.
"Well, now I'm more worried than I was before." He said, and you shrugged. No need for any of that.
"I don't have any clothing to sleep in." You said, and he furrowed his brow. Yeah, wasn't that big of a deal, excatly like you'd said.
"Oh, I'm sorry-."
"No, it's okay. I can just... sleep naked. I do it all the time, it's why my dad insisted that I get some curtains-." He cut you off.
"Ahem..." He disappeared into his room for a moment before thrusting a large shirt into your hands, not meeting your eyes. "Borrow this. But give it back." He said, and you smiled, crumpling it in your hands. You'd turned him on, you could tell from the look in his eyes.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter." James grimaced.
"James. You can call me James, it's okay." He insisted, and you nodded. That felt unnatural, but you would still do it... it was only right if he was asking
"James. Right." You paused, listening to the silence of the house. Where was he? "Where's Harry?" You asked, and James gave you a funny look.
"He's gone at school." He said, and you nodded. Right, that weird boarding school... He'd be back at Christmas then and so would you, you'd have to stop by, say hello.
"Right, I keep forgetting about that..."
"Come on, he's only two years younger than you." He said, and you nodded. Yeah, but he was always a kid in your mind, it just never left.
"Feels like he's a child to me..." You picked up the photo on his table, the last one taken before Lily passed. Harry was holding her hand and James was "God, sometimes I forget how bright his eyes are."
"Yeah, he's got her eyes for sure..."
"Does it make you miss her more?" You asked, and he nodded, a sad smile on his face.
"Of course it does. I miss her every moment of every day." James sighed, leaning against the counter. You placed a hand gently on his bicep, resting the urge to squeeze it. So strong.
"She was terrific." You said, and he was quiet for a moment, introspective as he tucked his hands into his pockets, jerking his head toward his room.
"I'm going to turn in for the night, if that's alright." James said, and you nodded. Yeah, you should too... Your dad would probably be freaking out when they got home.
"Of course." You said, and he gave you a small smile as he opened his door, pausing in the doorway.
"I'll see you in the morning, Y/N." He said, and his door was shut a moment later. You wandered down the hallway, looking at the framed photos of James and Lily with Harry before she passed, how happy they looked... you missed having her next door, she'd been a comfort. Inside the guest room you found a bed mostly made, but missing a comforter... maybe it was in the closet?
"Fuck..." You couldn't find the blanket. "Mr. Potter?" You called, but he didn't respond. Okay, so you'd have to go find him... You crept down the hall, knocking quietly on his door before opening it, hearing soft noises from inside.
"Mr. Potter, I was wondering-." You paused in the doorway, mouth falling open as you watched James try to cover his lap with a blanket. "Oh god." You gasped as the blanket fell, revealing his cock, the tip glistening. He was even bigger than you expected, thicker too, and you rubbed your thighs together at the thought of taking him all.
"Y/N! Close the door." He insisted, and you still stood there, drinking him in.
"I..."
"Close the door, please." He begged, and you shook your head, kicking the door shut behind you as you stood against it. You were fucking him. Tonight. There was no stopping you.
"Fuck, you're so big, James." You gasped, walking toward him. He was frozen, hand still on his cock, the tip leaking clear precum as you pulled James' shirt over your head, making his mouth drop open. You saw his cock twitch in his hand.
"What?" He asked, and you nodded, walking closer, watching the way that his eyes clung to your chest, chewing on his lip. He looked so fucking good.
"Do you mind if I... take over?" You asked, and his mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly, like his body was trying to catch up to his brain. You leaned down and kissed him deeply, feeling him moan against your lips as he pulled you down on the bed. You slid your tongue into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt him grip your ass, grinding you against his cock. So hard. You sat up a moment later, slipping down to your knees in front of him with a large smile. He grunted, tangling his fingers into your hair as he looked down at you through heavily lidded eyes.
"Y/N, you don't have to-." You leaned forward, swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock, moaning around him as you gripped his shaft, jerking your hand up and down. He leaned his head back, gasping before he glanced down at you, looking slightly frantic.
"You taste amazing, James." You sighed, leaning forward again before he could speak, taking him as deep as you could down your throat, gagging as he hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water. You breathed through your nose, trying hard to ease him deeper. You wanted to die around him.
"Fuck, your mouth is so hot... God, you're taking me so well... You don't have to take it all-." You lifted your head, looking him in the eyes as you ran your hands over his large thighs. You wanted him to ruin you in every sense of the term.
"Make me take it all."
"God, you're such a whore, aren't you? Never knew I had such a good cocksleeve living next door..." He said, his voice sounding gruff, sending shots of electricity right to your clit. God, he was so hot.
"Mmm." You groaned around him, feeling his hand push your head further. He pushed you until you had him all the way down your throat, your nose pressed to his pelvis as you struggled to breathe around him.
"That's it baby, that's it... doing so well." He sighed, and you beamed at the praise, bobbing your head up and down as you worked with his size. He was easily the biggest you'd ever had, stretching the corners of your mouth as you continued to suck him off. You couldn't ignore the throbbing between your thighs anymore so you reached down, spreading your thighs as you rubbed at your clit. You heard him let out a small gasp.
"Touching yourself for me, baby?" You nodded, shivering at the pet name. God this was probably the hottest thing you'd ever done with anyone, and he wasn't even inside you.
"Mhm."
"Why don't you fuck yourself on your fingers, hm? You look pretty fucking desperate... so worked up over sucking my cock... Been a while since I've had someone as eager as you." He sighed, and you moaned around him, letting him fuck into your throat. God, it felt so fucking good to be used by him.
"That's it, baby. Fuck yourself faster, I know you can." He said, and you nodded, fucking your fingers in and out faster as you swirled your tongue around his cock again, making him jump.
"You sound fucking pathetic, Jesus... thank god you forgot your key." He gasped, and you nodded, reaching up to slide your hand up his chest, shivering at the feeling of his skin. He groaned above you, placing his hand over yours.
"I'm getting close... Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He groaned, and you trembled, feeling yourself reaching the edge too. God, you wanted to taste him.
"Mmm..."
"I'm gonna cum down your throat, baby. Gonna take it all?" He asked, his voice getting a little more gruff as his hips began snapping up, making you gag around him.
"Mhm." You let go, your thighs trembling around your hand as you tried to focus on taking his cum while working yourself down "Mmph!" You gasped, slumping onto his lap as you continued letting him fuck your throat.
"Oh... Fuck..." He stilled, pushing your head all the way down again, cumming down your throat. "Swallow it. Swallow. Good girl." He said as he pulled away, tracing a finger under your lips.
"Fuck, that was so hot... Seriously, Jamie." You sighed, standing up before you let him pull you back down on top of him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah..." He brought his hand between your thighs, but you winced and batted it away. That'd been intense enough. "Mmm... too sensitive right now. And I know you're tired, old man." You joked, and his mouth dropped open in mock offense.
"You've got such a mouth on you." He looked you up and down and sighed, shaking his head. "God, I really wanted to be able to fuck you tonight..." He sighed, and you nodded. That would've crossed two things off your bucket list.
"Yeah, me too... got a little carried away though, didn't we?" You asked, and he smirked, pulling you down into a lingering kiss.
"Tell you what, you can ride my cock in the morning, I know you're dying to take it." He mumbled.
"Tired already?" You asked, and he shoved you lightly, opening one eye to glare at you.
"Leave me be, I've got work in the morning." James muttered, his voice filling with the sound of sleep. You nodded and sat up, searching for the shirt he'd given you on the floor, pulling it over your head before you stood up, pressing a kiss to his hairline.
"Okay." You whispered, and he caught your arm before you could leave, squinting up at you.
"Where are you going?" He asked, and you jerked your head toward the door. To the bed he'd told you to sleep in, obviously.
"Guest room?" You asked, and he grunted, furrowing his brows as he easily yanked you back into bed beside him, wrapping an arm tightly around your body.
"Sleep here. With me." He murmured, and you smiled to yourself, wiggling close against him, feeling the strength of him surrounding you.
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfic#harry potter imagine#harry potter fluff#harry potter smut#harry potter angst#harry potter fic#hp fanfiction#hp fanfic#hp smut#hp angst#hp fluff#james potter#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter smut#james potter angst#james potter x yn#james potter x y/n#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x you#harry potter x fem!reader#harry potter x yn#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you
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"No one can tell the Weasley Twins apart" may be true, but with a few key exceptions.
_____________________________________________________________
McGonagall- She's iconic, and also how dare you imply she cannot tell two of her students apart, thats just blasphemy.
Lee Jordan- His best mates (and they told him)
Elisen Nott- Her best mates (and they didn't tell her, she learned out of spite)
Percy Weasley- They're his brothers, he really can't understand why no one else can tell
Oliver Wood- Quidditch, no elaboration.
Marcus Flint- Oliver & Percy told him how, and Quidditch.
Harry Potter- The vibes (Their freckles)
Theo Nott- The vibes (Magical signature)
Luna Lovegood- The vibes (but actually)
This is all based on my fic @yellow_sprouts on ao3 called "Navigating the den of snakes" and with the twins being introduced next chapter I thought I would go ahead and give a lil fun snip (although Theos is a minor spoiler)
#weasley twins#george weasley#fred weasley#i do out of order on purpose#ao3 harry potter#harry potter#weasley family#hp angst#hp au#hp fic rec#hp fanfic#ao3 fanfic#slytherin harry potter#minerva mcgonagall#lee jordan#elisen nott#oc#percy weasley#oliver wood#quidditch#marcus flint#harry potter fanfiction#theodore nott#luna lovegood
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How You Get the Girl ...
“I just don’t know what I did.” Ron complains, leaning into the back of the couch in the Common Room, his eyes closed and his eyebrows pinched. It’s late, almost everyone else has gone to bed, which is why he speaks quietly to you: it makes you feel like you’re sharing a secret, which you technically are, but everything feels more special when it’s just Ron and you.
You like Hermione and Harry just fine, but when you all got together as a group, it always felt that he preferred them more, especially Hermione. You could understand why: she was smart and pretty, both things you envied about her. Your jealousy wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t seem like you caught Ron staring at her all the bloody time.
You shake your head, smiling softly over at him. “Girls are fragile, Ron. You can’t be as brutish as you are with your brothers or Harry.” You laugh quietly, “what kind of girl would take that as a compliment anyway?”
“I dunno.” He replies, rolling his eyes. “I would, though.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Well, you gotta help me then.”
You widen your eyes at him, clearly taken aback at his request. “You want me to help you get with Hermione?”
Ron moves in closer, nodding his head slightly. “You have to. You’re one of my closest friends, I dunno who else to go to with this.”
Your heart beats hard in your chest, you have no idea how to feel. The sentiment is nice, that he trusts you enough to ask for your advice on how to impress the girl he fancies. On the other hand, it hurts to know that he even fancies another girl (even though you knew) and that he expects you to help him. You want to say no and try to convince him that Hermione and him would never work out, so you surprise yourself when… “okay, Ron. I’ll help you.”
...
A knock on your door drags you out of your reverie. You close the book in your lap and place it on the table beside you, and unfold your legs. They’re stiff from how long you’ve been sitting on your couch, and you wince slightly. You stand up and make your way over to the door, opening it slightly to peek at whoever it could be.
“Ron?”
He’s standing in your doorway, hunched over in his jacket. He’s soaking wet, his hair dripping onto his face and his jacket a shade darker than it’s supposed to be. He looks miserable standing there, but his face brightens when he sees you. “You answered.”
You nod before opening the door wider, “are you insane? Come inside before you catch a cold.”
He steps inside, brushing against you, and stands barely in the doorway. The water on his clothes drips down onto your floor, and you quickly close the door behind the two of you. You open up a closet close to the door and pull down a towel, handing it over to him so he can dry off. You watch him, the air between the two of you thickening.
“It’s been a long six months.” He begins, peeking out at you from beneath the towel that he’s drying his hair off with. You watch him, worrying your bottom lip. You don’t know what to say, you hadn’t seen him since your final, chaotic days at Hogwarts – even then, you hadn’t seen him for a long time before then. He hadn’t contacted you at all. He takes a deep breath. “I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted. I’ve always been too scared of that.”
...
“Tell her something cheesy like… I want you for worse or for better. It’ll help defuse the tension since she’s upset with you. It’s sort of cute, and it’ll help lead into you telling her you like her.”
He nods in a more attentive way than he ever had in class. Your stomach twists – you could sabotage this whole thing, yet you weren’t. Hermione was your friend just as much as Ron was your best friend. You weren’t cruel. You just happened to like Ron more than she probably did.
“And then maybe you can add in something like: I would wait forever. To show your dedication.”
“Dedication? I’m not looking to marry her!”
You roll your eyes. “That’s not what I meant! You’re just buttering her up, but you don’t have to say that if you don’t want to-”
“I’d only say that if I meant it.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes again. How romantic. You feel a pang in your heart at that thought… at least he wanted to confess to Hermione.
“Okay, well, you hurt her, right? Admit that you did, and say that you want to fix it.”
...
“We were best friends, Ron. You could’ve told me anything, hell, you almost bloody did!” You cross your arms, conflicted on whether to laugh or be annoyed with him. “You told me way too much sometimes.”
He doesn’t smile or laugh the way he might’ve at the suggestive joke when he was younger. Something seems to settle within him, and he pulls the towel off of his head. He takes a slight step forward, and you feel the tension settle between the two of you. You rarely saw Ron this serious, though it seems to be a more permanent emotion during and after the war.
“I broke your heart.”
Everything around you stills. Your own heart stills. That was one truth you had kept to yourself throughout all those years, throughout all of his relationships. So many little fragments over the years had gathered until, just about half a year ago, it had finally shattered and he had walked away from you. Your chest feels tight as you wonder who could have told him.
“I want to put it back together.” He swallows, his words trembling just the slightest bit. “I know now that I will wait forever.”
...
You're sitting in the Great Hall as Ron eats lunch while you work on your homework. You’re focused on a particular list of ingredients for a potion when Ron speaks. “That stuff you told me worked, by the way. Thanks.”
“Oh. With Hermione? Good.” You force yourself to sound happy, even looking up to smile at Ron across the table.
“She forgave me, sort of. I don’t think she understood what I was really trying to say.”
You sigh, rolling up your parchment and setting it aside. You’d get back to it later. “You’re back to being just friends?”
He nods, “I couldn’t just outright tell her! She’d probably think I was joking or something.”
“You’re such an idiot.” You lean across the table so you can lower your voice. “You could bring up the ways you’ve subtly flirted with her. There’s that picture we took where you’re staring at her. You wouldn’t let her see it, remember? You could show it to her.” You settle back into your seat, reaching to unroll your parchment again.
“How do I explain why I didn’t just show her then?”
You pull your quill out of your ink, already returning to writing down another ingredient. “Tell her you lost your mind.”
...
You remember sitting on the Common Room couch, when one of those fragments joined the many others. When Ron first started fully showing interest in Hermione and you knew you had no chance with him. No, Ronald Weasley wouldn’t show up at your door and suddenly confess to you, when he and Hermione had finally found their happy ending sometime during the battle at Hogwarts. He couldn’t be saying that.
“Ron… what are you saying? Is everything okay?” You want to feel his forehead, to see if his cold has already set in and he didn’t realize what he was saying. Your heart is hammering inside of your chest.
“Don’t you remember how it used to be? We were always alone.” His voice becomes steadier as he talks and he grows closer to you, his eyes brightening. “We spent so many nights together, talking on the Common Room couch. It was always just us at lunch. We even went on walks just to talk.”
“That’s because, usually, Hermione and Harry were busy. We didn’t have a choice-”
“I did. I didn’t know it then, but I always had a choice and I always made it.” He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a look you know you’ve never seen before. You had known Ron since first year, and you knew almost every look and what it meant. You didn’t know this one.
“I was such an idiot. I am such an idiot. You’ve been in front of me this whole time, and I didn’t see it.”
...
It’s one of the rare moments where you somehow end up alone with Harry. You’re sitting in the library, waiting for Ron and Hermione to show up so you can start your study session together. You already have your parchment and ink out, along with several books on the table. Harry’s setup mimics yours, and you’re both leaned over the table.
The two of you don’t talk much, you’re both connected by your friendship with Ron. While you’ve become friends with Hermione, you and Harry are still more like strangers.
The sound of footsteps approaching causes you to look up from your books. You knew it was Ron, you didn’t have to be looking to know it was him whenever he was near. What you didn’t expect was for Hermione to be walking next to him. They sometimes entered together, having run into each other or they had been previously hanging out. The part you didn’t expect was their intertwined hands, and the large grins on their faces. Their rosy cheeks.
It happened.
Harry looks up from across you, and his face immediately splits into a grin. He’s happy for his friends, and you should be too. You mimic his smile, trying to mask the way your heart feels like it’s breaking. Ron looks victorious, like he’s just won the final Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin. All you can feel welling up inside of you is defeat, because this is your fault. You could have just denied him the help, and maybe it’d be you holding his hand and smiling.
Would Harry even be smiling like that if it was you?
...
“I want you.”
Eight years. Ninety-six months. Four thousand, three hundred and eighty days. That’s about the time you had known Ron. You had spent more than half of that wanting him. You had spent the latter half of that knowing it was never going to happen.
Never had you expected that during your ninth year of friendship, he would tell you the thing you had wished for all that time. The thing you had hidden in journals or in daydreams you were ashamed of. You had spent years making up crushes and having Ron try to help you the way you helped with Hermione.
“But you- you and Hermione… I can’t-”
“Hermione and I broke up a while ago. She said she knew from the beginning that we wouldn’t last.” You wince at that, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s smiling down at you. “She said she knew who I would end up with.”
Oh.
“It’s been obvious this whole time, hasn’t it? That it was you?”
Oh.
“I mean, even Harry saw it. After ‘Mione and I split, we all had dinner and he told me that I was a blind idiot for not noticing sooner.” He laughs slightly, “he also made me realize how much I’ve hurt you over the years.”
You don’t know what to say. You’ve wished for this moment practically your whole life, and now that it’s here, you’re lost. In your mind, you would end up with someone your parents’ set you up with and you’d live your version of a mediocre happy ever after. You’d spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that Ron loved someone else and he had and would never love you.
You’re staring up at him. You had stared up at him so many times before, but never like this. Never with him confessing to you. Never with him smiling at you so tenderly and so happily. Never with so much affection.
Softly, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. You reach your hand up and rest it on his wrist. The two of you stay like that for a moment.
Your voice is quiet when you finally speak. “Do you mean it?”
His eyes never leave yours as he nods his head. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist. You want to weep into him but also scream with joy: you’ve never felt this happy.
You pull away slightly to look at him. “It’s always been you, Ron. For worse or for better. Slug puking or Quidditch winning. It’s you.”
He pulls you close again, his head resting on top of yours. You press your head to his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
It’s beating just as fast as yours.
...
You listen to the birds chirp as you walk down the street. It’s slightly windy, but the heat from the sun keeps whatever chill the wind carries away. There’s the faint smell of flowers coming from the flower vendor just down the street, next to the diner where you’re supposed to be grabbing lunch from.
You’re not very familiar with this part of town. It’s not near your flat, and you had to Apparate to get there.
You pull open the door to the diner, and a bell chimes to alert the people inside of your presence. Muggles. You smile slightly at the gesture, and make your way inside. You look around, before you spot a pair of brown hair and glasses.
Harry spots you first and his face breaks into a smile. At this, Hermione turns around and greets you with a smile too. Harry stands up out of the booth and pulls Ron, who has been holding your hand this whole entire time, into a hug. Hermione stands up and pulls you into a side hug. It’s a little awkward, but maybe you’ll get more comfortable with each other someday.
Everyone is smiling as you slide into the booth beside Hermione. She picks up the menu and hands it to you, “I have to recommend the cheeseburger…”
Word Count: 2270
#harry potter x reader#ronald weasley#ron weasley#ron weasley x reader#ronald weasley x reader#romance#romantic#x reader#gender neutral reader#reader insert#gn reader#hp fandom#harry potter#hogwarts#hermione granger#ron x hermione#non canon#post war#before and after#hp angst#hp fluff#angst#fluff#good ending#happy ending#harry potter imagine#harry james potter#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#ron weasley x y/n
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For The Best
Fred Weasley x Reader
Genre: Angst
Content Warnings:
Angst
Death
Grief
Mentions of children and pregnancy
Word Count: 1,310
If Fred had survived, what would be different today?
You asked yourself this question often, especially at night when you found yourself lying wide awake in bed, your husband asleep beside you with his arm thrown across your waist.
It felt wrong to think about your late fiance while existing in the space so close to the man who had worked so hard to help you heal your heart after Fred’s death, but even still you couldn’t help but do it from time to time.
Fred Weasley had been the light of your life for six years before he’d died suddenly during the war, and never once before his passing had you even considered what your life might have looked like without him.
Back then, you hadn’t known that your friend since childhood, Oliver Wood, had harbored a crush on you since grade school, and beyond that, you definitely hadn’t known that you could feel similarly for him too.
You hadn’t known that it would take you three years to move on enough to even consider a possible first date, nor that said first date would be with the man mentioned above, who had patiently waited, never overstepping or pushing you in any way, in case you decided to give him a chance.
You hadn’t known that you would in fact give Oliver that chance, and that just two years after your very first date, you would have a new fiance, one that played for Puddlemere United and took you with him to every game he could, calling you his good luck charm.
You hadn’t known that your wedding wouldn’t have any physical trace of your very first love, but rather the consistent mentioning of his name as you and Oliver shared your vows, with many eyes in the crowd clouding up with tears as you both acknowledged and thanked the man for everything he had done, going as far as to wish that he were there on that day.
You hadn’t known that, at nearly twenty seven years old, there would be no small children milling about your home in the wee hours of the morning, despite Fred having made you promise to get to work on having a whole quidditch team together once the war was over.
But above all else, you most certainly hadn’t known how terribly you could miss someone until after Fred was ripped away from you, and how horrendously it could hurt to love another, even if you knew it was what he would have wanted.
You had no idea how hard it would be to love two men at once, all while knowing that if only you could know how things would have been with Fred, you might never have been able to love two men at all. You were just a few small facts away from knowing whether or not you would be willing to give all of this up just for a shred of a life with your first love, and that made you feel like a monster.
But you didn’t know.
You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, he would have married you the next week, as he’d decided to do just moments before his untimely death.
You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, your wedding would have been beautiful, and that his physical presence would have made your heart all but burst from your chest the moment that you saw him.
You didn’t know that the guilt you had felt on your real wedding day would never have swelled to the surface, because you never would have loved another, and you never would have questioned even for a moment if what you were doing was right.
You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, Oliver Wood would have come to your wedding, and there he would have met the woman he would have married if only you had not needed him at your side. You also didn’t know that he would have had three kids with her by now, because to be a father had been his greatest dream since childhood. He had never told you that, because he knew how much the discussion hurt.
You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, he would have slept with his head on your shoulder and one arm above and one arm below you in a permanent hug. You also didn’t know that he would have kissed you all over your face to wake you up in the mornings, adoring the laughter that flew past your lips as he did so.
You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, the joke shop would have been even more successful than it was today, and that the two of you would have lived together above it with George up until your very first positive pregnancy test, which would have come just under a year after your wedding day.
The two of you would have been trying on and off for the entire time after the war, and Fred would have cried when you told him, before asking permission to tell his twin so he could share his joy with another.
You didn’t know that if Fred Weasley had survived, you really would have had an entire quidditch team worth of children, and that he would have adored every single one of them, thanking you nearly every day for blessing him with such a beautiful family.
You didn’t know that your children would have been born in this order with these names, and that opposite of your mother in law, you would have had nearly all girls, and that Fred would have been so beyond proud of that fact.
You would have had your first daughter, Ivy Ginevra Weasley in late January of 2000.
You would have had your second and third daughters, Maisie Molly Weasley and Nellie Edith Weasley on Halloween in 2002.
Your fourth daughter, Winifred Marigold Weasley would have been born in late November of 2003.
You would have had your fifth daughter, Darcy Fleur Weasley in mid July of 2005.
Your sixth and final daughter, Louisa Maple Weasley, would have been born in early December of 2008.
And your one and only son, Sawyer Oliver Weasley, would have been born on Valentines day of 2010, his middle name coming from your very best friend, who would have used your name as the middle name of his very first daughter just two months prior.
But you didn’t know any of that.
All that you knew now was that Fred Weasley was gone, and that you loved your husband about as much as you could love anyone after your heart had been so thoroughly shattered.
But you also didn’t know what the future would hold either,
You didn’t know that Oliver would forever hold back from discussing his life long dream of becoming a father with you, for fear of how you might react to the idea of having children with him.
You didn’t know that despite that, your first child, three years from now, would be born, and that you would see Fred in her soft brown eyes whenever she smiled up at you.
You didn’t know how hard you would try to see her father in those eyes instead, or how guilty you would feel over the fact that even after so long, Fred was all that you wanted.
But the good news was that you would never know how different today would be if Fred had survived, and because of that, you would also never have to deal with the guilt associated with the fact that you would have given up everything to live that life with Fred Weasley, for even just a second.
You didn’t know, no matter how much you pondered the question at night.
And that was for the best.
MASTERLIST
Ko-fi
#Fred Weasley x reader#Fred weasley x reader angst#Fred Weasley fanfics#Fred Weasley angst#Fred Weasley#Oliver Wood x reader#Oliver Wood#Oliver Wood x Reader angst#Oliver Wood angst#Harry Potter x Reader#Harry potter x reader angst#Harry potter x reader fanfiction#Harry Potter x reader fics#Harry Potter angst#HP angst#HP fics
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Me @ the marauders fandom: WHY CAN WE NOT HAVE (1) SINGLE GOOD DAY
Me, actively contributing to the angst posted about the dead, gay wizards: a mystery, honestly. Who knows.
#harry potter thoughts#harry potter imagine#harry potter#hp imagine#harry potter rant#harry potter marauders#marauders era#marauders imagine#marauders#noble house of black#the black sisters#black brothers angst#hp marauders#marauders fandom#the maraunders map#regulus angst#hp angst
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❝time will tell.❞
[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]
summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞
pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)
word count. 9.5k.
tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf
note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one
HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.
At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.
Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.
Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.
Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.
But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.
Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.
You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”
Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.
“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”
“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”
You reach over to smack his head, scowling.
“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”
You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”
“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”
“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”
Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)
“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”
Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.
“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.
Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”
You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”
The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.
That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.
“That slimy bitch!”
Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.
The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.
You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.
You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.
You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.
But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.
You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.
When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—
“That’s Sirius.”
You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.
Sirius Black.
“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.
“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”
Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”
You gasp. “That’s horrible!”
Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”
You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.
After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”
“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)
“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”
A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”
Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”
You grimace. “Which cousin?”
He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”
This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”
“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”
“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”
“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”
When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”
You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”
“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.
You nod.
Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”
Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”
The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.
You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.
You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.
They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”
Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.
You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”
When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”
Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”
Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”
“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”
“Oh, Harry. . .”
It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”
You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.
“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”
“It’s—”
“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”
“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.
“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”
“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”
“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”
You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”
“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.
Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”
Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.
“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”
Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”
“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.
A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.
Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.
Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.
(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.
“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”
“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)
But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.
“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”
“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.
“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”
James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”
Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”
With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.
Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”
You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.
“It was fine,” You say in a daze.
Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”
Were you?
You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!
There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.
Then, you find it.
Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.
It’s a space on that wall just for you.
James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”
“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.
James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”
“James, I can’t do this.”
That’s all you say before you run out of the door.
(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)
You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.
James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”
You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”
“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”
You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.
James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”
“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.
He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”
“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”
He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”
You don’t look back.
(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”
Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.
“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”
James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”
“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.
You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.
Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”
Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”
“Got anymore stories?” He asks.
You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”
Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”
“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”
Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.
Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.
You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”
“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.
“Certain,” You respond, yawning.
As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.
“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”
Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.
“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.
“I know,” You say defeatedly.
“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”
“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”
Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”
“I don’t know,” You say honestly.
Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.
“What?”
“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”
(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.
You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”
“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”
Oh, Harry knows.
And Hermione knows it all too well.
“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”
At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”
You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”
Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”
Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.
You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.
“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.
Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”
“I’m always right.” You pout.
Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”
“Without a doubt.”
You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.
“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”
As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.
How lucky you are.
“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.
“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.
You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”
Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”
Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”
You grin. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”
“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”
Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor
“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.
Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:
“We’re all getting married!”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”
You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”
Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.
“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.
You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”
Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”
You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”
Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”
“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”
Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”
“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”
Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”
“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.
Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”
“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”
“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.
Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”
“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”
You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”
“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.
(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”
“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”
“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”
You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”
James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”
You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)
Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.
Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.
The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.
Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.
“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.
“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”
“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”
When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.
“Avada Kedavra!”
You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.
“No!”
You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.
“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.
“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”
“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”
“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.
“Expulso!”
Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.
“Accio wand!”
The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.
“Peter?” You call out.
“Crucio!”
The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.
“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”
It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.
“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”
“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”
You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.
“Defodio!”
You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.
That just leaves one more problem.
Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”
Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.
“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”
Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”
“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”
“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”
Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.
Oh.
Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.
You just wanted to rest now.
The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.
“Avada Kedavra.”
(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.
You’ll feel my blood on your skin.
You’re a dead man.
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”
“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.
Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”
Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”
Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”
Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”
Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.
Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”
“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.
James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”
“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”
James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)
ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.
He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.
You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)
Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”
He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.
“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”
And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.
end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!
#hp angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#marauders angst#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#remus lupin x reader#sunny's hp fics
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𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐘/𝐍
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Ron being an asshole
Unspoken Affections
Title: Unspoken Affections
Fred Weasley felt a peculiar tug in his heart whenever he saw Y/N, a Slytherin whose mere presence lit up the dim corridors of Hogwarts. Yet, he couldn't muster the courage to confess his feelings, haunted by the fear of disappointing his family, especially his siblings. Over the winter break, Fred's melancholy grew as he witnessed each of his siblings happily entangled in romance. He confided in his parents, who, instead of reproaching him, offered understanding and support. Molly, though concerned, urged Fred to bring Y/N to the Burrow for Christmas, hoping the festive cheer would alleviate his despondency. As Y/N stepped into the warmth of the Burrow, Fred's heart fluttered with nervous anticipation. However, his hopes were soon overshadowed by tension when Ron, his usually jovial brother, made disparaging remarks about Slytherins, insinuating ties to dark magic and blood purity. Y/N, visibly uncomfortable, struggled to maintain composure as Ron's words pierced through the jovial atmosphere. Unable to bear the injustice, Molly Weasley's patience snapped like a taut string. With a stern voice, she reprimanded Ron, her words echoing in the room with a force that silenced everyone. "Foolish boy, judging others based on outdated prejudices! Love knows no house, no blood status. It's time you learn to respect others, Ronald Weasley!" Fred's heart swelled with gratitude towards his mother's unwavering support. In that moment, he realized that love transcended boundaries, and he vowed to cherish every moment with Y/N, regardless of what others might say. And as the Christmas festivities resumed, Fred found solace in knowing that his family, flawed yet loving, would always stand by his side.
A/N: I hope you liked it ! It’s my first ever fanfic tell me if there’s any mistakes ! (also i’m a english major so im so sorry if i used big words!!)
#fred weasely x y/n#fred weasley#fred wealsey fic#harry potter x reader fluff#hp angst#weasley family
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When I see you again (Fred Weasley x Reader)
PART 1. 2.
female!reader, Gryffindor!reader
Summary: It takes place during the Second Wizarding War, months after Bill and Fleur's wedding. Reader is on the run after her family has been caught by the Snatchers. Loosely following cannon.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (mentioned)
Characters: Dean Thomas, Fred Weasley (mentioned),George Weasley (mentioned), Ted Tonks (mentioned)
Warnings: war, mentions of death, angst, english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes, capital letters, etc.
—
It was the break of dawn. You did not dare to travel during the day in case any Snatchers might be creeping around. However, travelling at night seemed even more terrifying considering that’s when dementors, inferi and other dark creatures were most active. You were on your own for months, travelling from place to place, never staying anywhere more than just a few days. You did not think it was wise to come back to the Godric’s Hollow, and all the safe houses provided by the Order seemed to be heavily protected by charms and spells, so you could not find any of them. You spent most of your time travelling through the countryside. Camping in the woods or hiding in abandoned muggle houses. The latter was a lot riskier since the streets were often infested with dementors. Muggles didn’t know what was going on since they couldn’t see them, but the terror they felt by their presence was enough to chase most of them away from their homes.
You were intentionally avoiding all magical places you could think of. You knew there was no place you could go to be completely safe, but there was no way you would not run into a Death Eater in the middle of the Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. You didn’t even dare to try to go back to the Burrow. To be honest, you feared what you might find there if you did.
Your hiding tactic was going quite well, in fact, you had gotten quite skilled at protective spells and charms and were even getting better at transfiguring objects into something edible. However, being cut off from the rest of the wizarding world had its downgrades. There was no way for you to hear any news of your friends and family. You occasionally turned on this muggle invention called television, but since muggles weren’t really aware of what was actually going on, they weren’t broadcasting much useful information. A part of you was glad, at least you heard no familiar names amongst the ones of missing muggles. But sitting there, completely cut off from everything and everyone, was getting more and more exhausting, and quite frankly, you believed it would be a lot less terrifying to actually get caught by a Snatcher.
After careful consideration, you decided to go back to your family’s vacation home. The last time you were there, the village was crawling with trolls and acromantulas, but that was months ago! Surely, it must have been cleared out by now! And if not… well you would cross that bridge when you get to it.
So, at the break of dawn, you gathered all of your most valuable things, your wand, a cloak and a couple of tin cans you found in one of the houses you were hiding in, and disapparated.
Two seconds later you felt yourself landing face down onto something sharp and cold. A painful groan escaped your lips as you felt your nose had just been hit by something that felt like a brick. You then realised you didn’t land face down, but instead, bumped right into a tall stone wall you assumed used to be a part of someone’s home. You lifted your wand and quietly whispered:
“Episkey!”
The pain stopped almost instantly only to be replaced by a shocking realisation the moment you turned around to see where you were.
You were exactly in the place you wanted to be, only the place looked nothing like it was supposed to. You were thankful for the absence of trolls and acromantulas, but the reason for their absence was that there was absolutely nothing around that they could possibly prey upon. There were no people, no roads, houses or plants… it was a wasteland. As you turned around trying to find any shape of something that used to be your old vacation home, a terrifying thought had crossed your mind. A thought you were trying so hard to push away for months.
Where… are they?
Tears began to fill your eyes and before you could stop you let out a desperate, heart aching sob. It felt like a punch to the gut. Your legs were no longer listening to you, and you collapsed to the ground.
“Please… please…! Where are they? Someone… anyone…?” you sobbed.
A part of you hoped that someone or something would show up and help you. A Patronus, a house elf, a bird… at this point you would even greet a troll with open arms
But no one was coming to save you. There you were, all by yourself, in the middle of the rubble that used to be your family’s backyard. During the months of running and hiding you had not once felt as alone and hopeless as you did in that moment. You crumbled completely, thinking of all the people that meant anything to you. You parents, younger cousins still being forced to attend Hogwarts, friends you last saw during Bill and Fleur Weasley’s wedding. Oh, what you would give for just one familiar face showing up, picking you up the ground and embracing you, telling you everything was going to be okay. Telling you all of them were alive and well. That your parents escaped the Snatchers’ grip and were somewhere in a safe location. That your cousins were able to escape this now dreadful place that used to bring you so much joy during your school years. That your friends were somewhere out there, searching for you and wishing you were with them. But no one was coming, and by the looks of it, no one was going to.
You considered just staying there, in the middle of a wasteland. Crying yourself to sleep and hoping to die before you must wake to this dreadful reality.
However, after the tears have dried out, you managed to pluck up all the remaining strength and bravery that was left in your malnourished, sleep deprived body, and somehow, stand back up on your trembling feet. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to take a step forward. Then another one. By the third one you were on the verge of collapsing yet again, but then, something unexplainable happened. You blinked in confusion.
You realised you no longer knew where you were. You knew you were travelling somewhere, that there was a reason for you to be standing here, in the middle of nowhere, but you couldn’t for the life of you remember what it was. You looked around, hoping to gain some clarity, but it was useless. It was as if someone had just gone inside your head and altered your memories. A surge of panic went through your body. You turned back around and returned to the place you were standing two seconds ago. And then you remembered. You remembered everything you knew a moment ago. This was your vacation home. You came here to find someone. Anyone. How could you possibly forget that?
You took two steps forward again, and your mind went blank. Once again, you blinked in confusion and frustration.
What is happening?
You took two steps back again and remembered.
Two steps forward, forgot.
Two steps backward, remembered.
Through the cloud of bewildering uncertainty caused by this development, another thought hit you like a train wreck. A thought that caused you to feel a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a really long time. A spark of something you never thought you’d feel again. Hope.
A shocked giggle escaped your lips.
It was a spell!
A cloaking spell! Someone was hiding right there in front of you, in your own house! That’s why you couldn’t remember anything when you walked forward. Someone was there, perhaps watching you at this very moment. Someone who didn’t want to be found. Which could only mean…
“Mum?”, you called out.
“Dad?”
No one answered.
“Please, if anyone’s there, it’s me, Y/N! Your cloaking spell is very strong, I can’t see anything!”
You waited patiently for someone to answer, but no one did. You thought to yourself that perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea to be standing here screaming. What if it wasn’t one of your own? What if it was a trap? But you pushed those thoughts away. You were way too tired and desperate to be questioning this miracle that has presented itself.
So what if it was a trap? Nothing can be worse than this uncertainty! You sat down in the rubble and stared at the seemingly blank space in front of you, your eyes scanning every detail of it in hopes of seeing someone appear.
“Maybe they didn’t hear me?”, you thought to yourself.
But before you could do or say anything else, a muffled, but somehow familiar voice yells out something in your direction. You tried to stand up, but before you could do that, the same voice exclaimed,
“Petrificus Totalus!”
Your entire body stiffened up. You couldn’t move. Your eyes widened in terror as you heard footsteps approaching. Then, a figure appeared in front of you. You could see his face clearly.
It was the last person you expected to see there, and yet, despite the fact he had just petrified you, you were never so happy to see anyone in your entire life.
It was Dean Thomas.
...
Dean was just being careful; you couldn’t blame him for that. However, lying there petrified, without the ability to speak, was getting really frustrating. You thanked your lucky stars that it was a classmate and not a Death Eater standing in front of you, because now that you’ve thought of it, that could’ve easily been the case. You should’ve been more careful.
Dean circled around you like a vulture, his wand still up and pointed at you. He examined your face, the clothes you were wearing and your wand. He took the little bag you were carrying and emptied it. When he realised there was nothing in it except two portions of canned beans, he finally sighed in relief and whispered,
“Finite Incantatem!”
Your body relaxed.
“Dean!”
Your mouth was dry and the words that came out of it sounded like a squeak, but you did not let that bother you. Not in this moment.
“Dean, it’s so good to see you…”
“Not so fast!”, he whispered and pointed his wand back at you, “First tell me who you are!”
“You don’t know who I am?”, you asked in confusion.
That was highly unlikely. Dean and you weren’t exactly the closest of friends, but you did know each other. You spent five years in the same common room, often chatting about muggle movies and music, not the mention all the times you spent helping him and Seamus Finnigan with their homework. Two years ago, you even attended the same secret club at Hogwarts called Dumbledore’s Army.
“No, I know who you are”, he said heavily, “I just want to see if you know it”.
You blinked.
He wants to be sure it’s not a trick.
“Oh… okay…”, you started, “My name is Y/N Y/LN. I was in the Gryffindor house at Hogwarts, two years above you. I… I used to watch you argue with Oliver Wood about soccer! Yes, you were saying it’s a more exciting sport than Quidditch… until he accidentally knocked over a candle and almost burnt down the entire Gryffindor tower”.
The memory of that made you chuckle. It felt like centuries ago! Even the corners of Dean’s lips flickered like he was holding back a smile.
“Yeah… do you remember what happened next?”, he asked, still not entirely convinced.
“Yes… McGonagall rushed in and put out the fire… nobody wanted to tell her who did it and Fred and George blamed it on Peeves…”.
You cleared your throat. The mention of Fred and George Weasley felt like a stab in the heart. You rubbed your eyes before tears could come out, trying to make it seem like a nonchalant action, but Dean wasn’t fooled. However, this subtle burst of emotion at the mention of your two best friends seemed to convince him it was really you, and he finally lowered his wand.
He put his hand on your shoulder, and you threw yourself at him, pulling him into a hug. He was a bit startled by this action, but in the next moment he wrapped his arms around you and returned the embrace.
“Dean… what are you doing here?”, you asked after finally letting him go.
“I’m in hiding, of course”, he said.
“Yes… but what are you doing here?”, you pointed at the wasteland around you.
“Oh, right…”, he smiled apologetically and whispered, “The Unseen Village 32”.
For a moment you were standing there in confusion. Then, two very long seconds later, a large yellow building appeared right in front of you. Before you could stop yourself, you cried out in amazement. It was your family house, a bit rugged and damaged, but it was definitely still standing!
You were lost for words. Dean took you by the hand and led you through the front door. The inside of the house was almost completely preserved.
“It’s a Fidelius charm”, he explained, “I’m the secret keeper of this house, nobody can find it unless I tell them the location”.
“Fidelius?”, you raised your eyebrows, “Isn’t that like, really advanced magic?”
“Well, yes…”, he scratched the back of his head, looking almost embarrassed, “But I had some time to practice it. Ted Tonks taught me how to do it before he… you know”, a flicker of pain appeared in his eyes.
“Ted… Tonks? Nymphadora Tonks’ father?”.
You knew Nymphadora Tonks was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Her family home was one of the safe houses the Order was using during the night Harry Potter was moved from Little Whinging.
Your home in the Godric’s Hollow was one of the safe locations as well. In fact, it was the house in which Arthur and Fred Weasley showed up. You could see their faces as clear as day. Arthur was bewildered, shaking, and rushing through your house, trying to get to the Potrkey as soon as possible. Fred was on the verge of tears.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”, you kept asking.
The words that followed your question still haunted you to this very day,
“Someone’s been hit. We think it’s George”.
Dean’s voice pulled you back to the current moment.
“Anyway, this was the only house that was still standing after the acromantulas have cleared up… or so it seemed. You never know, there might be others out here, using protective spells and what not…”
“Right…”, you shook your head, trying to focus on his words, “Well, it’s a very powerful spell. Thank Merlin you came out, I would’ve driven myself insane trying to figure out why my mind is suddenly going blank”.
“Sorry for petrifying you, I had to be sure it wasn’t a trick”.
You nodded,
“I would’ve been offended if you hadn’t”, you said teasingly.
Dean chuckled.
“Well, I knew you were out there, they mentioned you the other day in the PotterWatch”.
You shook your head in confusion.
“In the what?”
Dean seemed just as confused as you.
“In the… PotterWatch. You have been listening to PotterWatch, right?”
“Dean, I have no idea what you’re talking about”, you said sincerely, “You’re the first person I’ve talked to since I ran away”.
“What… you’ve been on your own this entire time?”
“Yes”
“Well how did you… how did you make it?”, he was baffled.
You shrugged.
“Honestly… I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding crowded spaces and scavenging for food… I’ve gotten pretty good at protective charms as well”.
Dean looked almost impressed. You blushed.
“Blimey! That’s… I wouldn’t have lasted three days on my own”, he said.
“Aren’t you on your own now?”, you asked.
He smiled sadly.
“I was with Ted until recently… Oh!”, he jumped up, startling you, “That reminds me!”
He looked around the room and rushed towards something that was sitting at the small coffee table next to the dusty red sofa on your right. It looked like a small, dirty box. He took the box in his hands and started tapping on it with his wand while mumbling something.
“Oh, I’m sure it was… Padfoot? No… Fawkes! No, hang on…”
After a few minutes of tapping and mumbling, he yelled out in excitement,
“Ah, there it is!”
You heard a couple of muffled voices coming from the box.
It’s a radio, you realised.
The voices were getting louder and clearer, until finally, you recognised who they belonged to.
“…to introduce our new correspondent, "Rodent"!
“I'm not being Rodent! I told you, I want to be "Rapier"!”
“Fred!”, you cried out and grabbed the radio from Dean’s hand.
You couldn’t believe it. It was Fred. And George! They were alive! They were fine! Oh, it felt so good to hear their voices! You felt a warm, excited feeling spreading through you, as if your heart finally started beating properly again.
“Oh alright, "Rapier"! Could you tell our listeners the various stories you've heard about the Chief Death Eater?”
“Yes I can. As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond…”
This made you chuckle loudly, as tears were filling your eyes yet again. However, this time you didn’t try to stop them, and instead, you just let them silently slide down your cheeks.
“…You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice climate of panic! Mind you, if all alleged sightings of him are genuine, there must be nineteen You-Know-Whos running around!”
You didn’t even pay attention to the words he was saying. They weren’t important. Who cares about You-Know-Who? Who cares about Death Eaters? Nothing was as important as the fact that you could hear Fred Weasley’s cheerful voice coming from this small, dusty box. You savoured every sound it made, clenching it firmly in your grip, like you were afraid the voice would disappear if you didn’t.
After a few minutes the broadcast had ended. You raised your eyes to meet Dean’s, almost as if you were silently begging him to bring the voice back. Dean was leaning on the doorway, clearly a bit uncomfortable, but wanting to let you have your moment with the radio. You felt a bit embarrassed. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke gently,
“This was from a few weeks ago… I actually wanted to show you another one…”
He carefully took the radio from your hands and started tapping on it again, mumbling words that you realised were passwords to access the radio line.
“Ah, yes… this one”, he handed you the radio again.
You sat down at the red sofa and placed the little box near your right ear with the nervous excitement.
“Well, dear listeners, we have a very special announcement today that might lift up your spirits”, you heard George’s voice say.
“It has certainly lifted ours!”, Fred continued.
“We are very happy to inform you that a group of our favourite “Undesirables” and muggleborns has just been rescued from the Ministry and is currently transferred to a safe location”.
“The freed are alive and well and mostly unharmed”.
“Mostly unharmed? What does that mean, mostly unharmed, Rodent?”.
“Well, “Tentacula” …”
“Tentacula!?”
“It means that all off them have managed to keep all of the limbs they had before they were captured!”
“So, if someone was missing a leg before…?
“They didn’t grow it back, but they did most likely keep the other one!”
“What are the names of the freed, Rodent?”
“I told you, it’s “Rapier”!”
“Sorry, Rapier!”
“Well…”
You were clinging onto the radio for dear life while listening to the names Fred was listing. Your heart was racing. You heard lots of familiar names, some of them were your friends, your acquaintances, people you’ve only met once, people you studied with at the library at Hogwarts…
“And of course, last but not least…”
You clenched your jaw in anticipation. When Fred said the names of your parents, a quiet sob escaped your lips.
They are fine! They are fine! They are alive and they are safe! Everything is alright!
Fred’s voice suddenly deepened in uncharacteristic seriousness.
“However, even though Mrs. and Mr. Y/LN are safe and sound, their daughter Y/N is still presumed to be missing”.
“What would you say to Y/N if you knew she was listening?”, George’s voice asked.
“I’d tell her that her family is alive and well and desperate for news of her whereabouts. As are quite frankly, all of us here at the PotterWatch”.
“Well, there you have it, dear listeners! On that note we are ending this very special episode of PotterWatch!”
“Protect yourselves”.
“And each other!”
“And as always…”
“Support Harry Potter!”
You were still holding onto the radio a few minutes after the episode ended. Dean didn’t say anything, and you were grateful for that. You were still savouring the words you just heard. Fred and George’s voices. The names of your friends that were confirmed to be freed from the Ministry. The names of your family. You didn’t even realise you were shaking until Dean gently put his hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him in a surprise, as if you had completely forgotten that he was still there. He smiled at you softly as you put your hand onto his and squeezed it. There was only one thought on your mind. You looked straight into Dean’s eyes in a sudden burst of determination and said, in a quiet but clear voice,
“Dean… We have to find them”.
—
#harry potter fic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#hp#gryffindor#harry potter oc#harry potter x oc#dean thomas#dean thomas x oc#hp oc#long post#hp x reader#hp x y/n#dean thomas x reader#angst#hp angst#gryffindor!reader#fred weasly x reader#fred weasely x y/n#george wealsey x reader#george weasley x y/n#fred weasley x yn#george weasley x yn#fred weasley imagine#george weasley imagine
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── 𝓓𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓪𝓵 ──
Tom Riddle x Reader Summary ▻ You are currently dealing with a situation where you are forced to be married and a confession that seemed to change your point of view. Warning(s) ▻ Tom and Mattheo are brothers because I said so. Tom is still a fucking asshole. Feelings. Denial. Mentions of alcohol and someone being drunk. accidental confession. thank you very much. Okay not all purebloods are related. I have to say this because its disgusting I FUCKING HATE INCEST. Word Count ▻ 800+
ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ
"I do not like her nor do I give a fuck about her." He sneered at Mattheo.
Mattheo on the other hand just stared at him, his face showed his interest to infuriate his brother further and get him to admit the truth - as it already is visible in his actions - that his brother, somehow never thought about.
"One more word about her, I'm gonna feed you to Nagini."
Mattheo stood up without a single sign of fear as Tom is his brother and he knows him very well.
He does care about you, he doesn't even know how to hide it - the lingering gazes, the longing look he has as he gazes at you from afar, the constant stealing glances that he cannot seem to control.
In plain words, he turns into an incredibly clumsy person - or a dimwit should he say - around you.
Arrange marriage. The situation you're currently in.
It wasn't that bad, especially when you both agreed that you can hook up with whomever you please as long as you return home the next morning.
Every time after a party or some kind of an event, the pair of you would have a sit on the small cushion in your room with a glass of champagne or wine on your hands and normally share each of your last night's experience.
Well, he lies.
He'll admit in his past relationships, he had a ton of sex, but he suddenly stopped when he found out he was in an arrange marriage with you.
And all he wanted to do was to do it with you - do everything with you. not just sex, but also those sweet stuff that couples do.
Although, it seems impossible to hear such a thing especially coming from Tom's perspective - he still cannot deny how bad he wants to have that.
The way he'd love to go down on you each time he gets. He has never been this desperate for a woman and it drives him mad.
And that change of behaviour sure did surprise everyone - even his own brother was surprised by this.
Sure, he was still mean and a fucking ass hole but he wasn't the kind like his past - pulling any woman of his choice and fuck them senseless in a room or preferably just use their mouth in a dim lighted corridor like they're just useless things that he could buy or borrow.
And an improvement that Mattheo would like to include that he haven't seen any woman roaming around the Manor after they had sex or no going to the pub without you.
And he always has the same reason for everything "I want to make them proud." And by 'them' their parents.
He was offended when you didn't look interested the first time you were told about the arrangement. You looked at your parents as if they said something that offended you - so he offered the mentioned idea and you were quick to say yes.
***
Mattheo started teasing him about his relationship with you when:
***
One night, you went to a party with all the guest part of the sacred 28 - meaning, you were required to go.
You wore a black dress that night - his favorite - with a pair of heels that seem to match his clothing.
You were forced to greet each and everyone, kindly - while Tom stood beside you, his face full of seriousness that guests wouldn't even dare to glance at his direction. He nudges your shoulder once in a while to stop you from rolling your eyes.
Later that night, a beautiful woman invited you to their room to play "chess" - however, you didn't accept the offer knowing your fiance would get drunk tonight.
Tom is going to be pissed drunk tonight - don't tell him I told you that.
Thanks Mattheo.
No worries.
Mattheo left early not wanting to be responsible of his brother and carry him to the room the pair of you share upstairs.
***
You spotted him sitting - laying on the couch in one of the rooms - he was alone - passed out drunk.
Getting near him you almost gagged from the musky scent of alcohol.
"Bloody fucking hell, you smell like shit." You muttered. "Come on, get up."
Pulling his limp body up, you groaned and thought about how nice it would be to have Mattheo with you right this instant.
"You're definitely a lovely woman to fuck, but I have a fiancé who I like a lot. She'll get mad and kill you before I even can." He slurred.
"What in Merlin's left ball sack are you talking about?"
"Her name is Y/n. She's really pretty - no, beautiful. I still partly hate her though."
You dropped Tom on the bed and chuckled at his confession as he continued "She has a pair of beautiful eyes and her lips - oh her lips - I would kill to just give it a single bloody peck - Shh - don't tell her that."
Mattheo witnessed all of that, as he was just following behind you, just in case you needed an extra hand.
His eyes were wide as just his smile - he discovered that he was right all along.
His brother did like you.
A/n: This is an update because I haven't been posting and yes. I just taught of this and wrote it like a fucking asshole.
ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!!
@maelycious @slvtfor-gingerpubes @kimorna @dracoslittleangel @honeymunson @raajali3
#tom riddle#tom riddle fluff#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle fanfiction#tom riddle fic#tom riddle x y/n#harry potter imagine#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle angst#harry potter fluff#harry potter angst#harry potter x reader#harry potter fanfic#harry potter#hp x reader#hp imagine#hp angst#hp fanfiction
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Domdraco smut please??? I mean maybe with handcuffs and some kinks?
Sure, not a problem.
Draco fucking you while he's on various calls.
Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (featuring a sort of Pansy Parkinson aspect because this was the only ida I had)
Warnings: Smut, D/s, handcuff use, degredation, praising, spanking, hair pulling, name calling, semi-public smut, gagging, video call third party, overstimulation
Smut under the cut
Draco inisiting on fucking you every time he had a conference call was not something you were expected when you started the relationship with him, but it wasn't something that you felt was a bad thing... it simply meant that you were on his desk, legs thrown over his shoulder, handcuffed and gagged as he fucked you hard, on a call with whoever, you didn't even know and you didn't care... expect the gag wasn't working to keep you quiet.
"Hm? No, she's busy right now." He pulled your gag down, clearly it wasn't doing anything. "Shut the hell up, they can hear you. You're such a goddamn whore." He snapped, gripping at your chin as his pace increased. God, how were you meant to be quiet?
"Mmph." You whimpered, and he rolled his eyes, giving you a wary look
"Bet you love it though, the idea that one of them could hear you, that they're touching their cocks while they think about fucking you even though you're mine to use. And only mine." He sighed, and you nodded. Only his, he gave you such a good life.
"Mhm."
"Good girl." "Sorry about that, she had a question. Yeah, she'll be coming with on Friday, of course. Yeah, see you then." He looked back down at you, his frustration clear again as his hand closed around your throat. Hard.
"Couldn't even keep quiet for a goddamn conference call, I swear you do it on purpose." He pulled you up by your neck. "Don't you?" You shook your head, clearly not able to speak right now. Who would?
"I asked you a fucking question." Draco snapped, smacking you hard across the face. You shook your head, giving him a frantic look. God, you would tell him anything, you just wanted him to not stop.
"No! Only for you!" You gasped, and Draco rolled his eyes, his hand finding your clit, rubbing it roughly as you tried to wiggle away.
"I don't believe you, I bet you'd love if someone heard us. Bet you'd think about it every time you touch that pretty little cunt." Draco growled, and you shook your head, feeling yourself fall over the edge, or at least begin to.
"No... All yours."
"I fucking know."
"Draco, oh my god..." You whined, feeling like you were going to vibrate out of your skin as you came again. He fucked into you harder, flipping you onto your stomach as his pace increased, both of you gasping at the change of position. Beside your head, his phone vibrated.
"Oh, shit. It's Pansy, she and I are working on a project. Can you be quiet for me? Can you be good?" He asked, and you nodded. You could be good for him... for her... for both of them.
"I'll be so good. Just please keep going, I'm so close." You begged, and Draco chuckled, grabbing his phone from where it was beside your head.
"Okay... Hey, Pans. Mhm. Yeah, I can do that. What?" He asked, and then he leaned forward, his pace slowing down as he spoke, making you let out a high moan.
"She's asking about you." He murmured, and you couldn't even respond. God, this felt too good.
"Yeah, she's in here. I know, nothing quiets her down." Draco sighed, and you pouted. Why was he being so mean?
"Draco..." You gasped, and he tutted, spanking you hard on the ass for talking out of turn.
"Sh, baby. Don't be rude." He continued to talk as though you weren't there. Fuck... "Handcuffs, I had a gag on her while I was on a call but I took it off." He explained, fucking into you lazily, making you whine. God, what the fuck? How does this feel so good?
"Yeah, she's bent over the desk right now, taking my cock. No, I know she just can't shut the hell up, it's embarrassing." Draco paused for a moment making you whine as you tried to fuck back against him, desperate for some friction. "Hm? Let me ask." Draco said, and he leaned down, kissing down your neck before he moved to murmur into your ears.
"Do you mind if I turn on the camera? Say no if you mind, I have no problem telling her that you don't want that." Draco asked, and your eyes were wide open. Pansy? Wanted to watch you? That was a dream come true.
"Please." You said, and he paused, placing a warm hand on your cheek so he could ease your face to look at him, even in the awkward angle. His eyes were soft, gentle. He was genuinely asking.
"Are you sure?" He asked, and you nodded. Yeah. You really really wanted this.
"'M sure." You heard the call change.
"Hey, Pans." Pansy let out a sigh.
"Hello. Y/N, my dear, how are you?" Pansy asked, and you cleared your throat, unable to pick yourself up to look at her. You were sure she looked good, everyone Draco was close to were fucking hot, his friend group was honestly unfairly attractive.
"So good... So good." You whined, and Pansy let out a low whistle at the tone of your voice.
"Oh my god, she sounds fucking wrecked." Pansy groaned, and Draco let out a little chuckle.
"Been fucking her all day. She should." Draco murmured, and Pansy let out a low noise, like a near moan.
"Lift her up, I wanna truly see." He did, holding you up with a hand over your throat. Pansy was seated in her desk chair, one knee pulled to her chest wearing a black button down unbuttoned to the lowest part of her sternum... Fuck, it was unfair. "Jesus Christ." Pansy murmured, and you could see her eyes flitting all over your body even through the screen.
"Like what you see? Take a good look, because you'll never get to touch." You couldn't help it, you pouted at how sure Draco sounded. That would feel so good.
"You're easily persuaded, so we'll see if that stands." Pansy said as you were eased back down on the desk and Draco's rough fucking resumed, pulling a silent gasp out of you.
"I am not."
"There he goes, lying again. Does he lie often, Y/N?" Pansy asked, and you opened your mouth, but no noise came out... he was fucking you too hard for you to be expected to speak right now.
"No... No..." You whined, and Draco chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss between your shoulderblades.
"See, my girl knows I'm honest. Why can't you give me the same benefit of the doubt?" Draco asked, and Pansy snorted. How were they carrying on common conversation when they was happening? That was a skill you'd never thought someone would have.
"Because you're my best friend. I know when you lie.... God, she really does just take anything, huh?" Pansy asked, and you blushed, shaking your head. But that was a lie and you knew it.
"Mhm." Draco pulled you up again, reaching around your body to rub roughly at your clit, making you try to jerk away from him, but it didn't work. He simply got to torture you with pleasure... and he was damn good at it. "Don't you, baby?" He asked, and you nodded. Yeah. Yeah.
"Yes." He tossed you back down on the desk as Pansy let out a little chuckle. You glanced up, knowing by the flush on her cheeks that she was turned on. God, that was so fucking hot.
"Aw, listen to that voice... so pathetic." You squeaked, your vision blurring for a moment as you came around Draco's cock for the millionth time that evening, making you feel like you were going to fall apart. "Is she seriously cumming again?" Pansy asked, sounding bored even though you knew she wasn't. She loved this, you three had gotten close to fucking a few times, but mostly it was just making out, fooling around, but this... this could lead to that dream.
"Yeah, got her so fucked out that she barely even makes a sound at this point... she just lets me use her until I feel she's had enough." Draco said, and you blushed at the way that they continued to talk about you like you weren't even there. Pansy sighed, and you glanced up, seeing the way that she was hungrily staring at you, even if there was a glare on the screen that kept you from seeing all of her... but you saw the dangerous smirk on her red lips, and that gave the rest of her expression away.
"That sounds very lucrative." Pansy said, her voice silky and edged with danger. God, it gave you goosebumps... this had been a fantasy of yours for a while, one you'd discussed with Draco many times... it just felt so good to see it be recognized.
"It is." Draco sighed, and you felt like you should fight back, say something.
"No-." Draco's hand smacked down hard on your ass, which was already sore from this morning, and you yelped. He pulled you up, holding his fingers loosely on the chain of your handcuffs before shoving you back down hard.
"Shut up, baby. I don't wanna have to punish you, you've been so good so far." Draco said, his tone sickeningly sweet. Your knees trembled as you let out a high whine as you thought about his last punishment. He'd tied you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit for hours... it'd been such a sweet torture.
"Seriously, you should let me join you two sometime. Think it would be pretty fun."
"For her, but I won't get anything out of it, aside from watching the two of you... which would be objectively hot, but still." Draco said, his tone surprisingly level considering the pace with which he was fucking you at this point. He should be gasping for air, you knew that you were.
"I can suck a cock too, Malfoy. I just don't want one inside me at the moment." Pansy sighed, and you let your brain wander, thinking about how that would look... God, that would be so fucking hot, watching them fuck each other... it only made you feel more sensitive, like you could cum another time, even though you were feeling frustratingly overstimulated.
"Really?" Draco asked, his voice sounding rough as he pushed you harder into the desk, pounding into you with an increased pace that made any coherent thought simply leave your head. You were here for him to use, that was what you were made for.
"Yeah." Pansy said, sounding amused from Draco's shock.
"Excellent." He said, letting out low grunting pants as he pulled you up by your arms, kissing and biting across your shoulders. You locked eyes with Pansy, and she winked, raising an eyebrow at you. "I'm gonna cum inside you, baby. You ready?" Draco asked, and you nodded, letting him drop you back down onto the desk. He pushed your head down, face flush to the cool desk.
"Please..." You begged, and Pansy let out a full laugh, shifting around in her chair. She should touch herself... you wanted her to, you wanted to see her fall apart.
"Is that all she can say?" Pansy asked, and Draco let out a low chuckled, raking his nails down your damp skin as his thrusts got sloppy. Good.
"She's too fucked for really words." Draco said, letting out a low groan after, thrusting hard once more, stilling inside of you. God, you wanted him to cum, you wanted to feel so good, and that always made you feel so good... "God, there we go... good... fuck..." Draco sighed, his cum filling you, making you gasp as your eyes rolled back in your head. You heard Pansy let out a quiet, astonished chuckle.
"Aw, she takes it so well, doesn't she?" Pansy asked, her voice close to a coo, making you blush even more as Draco drew out of you, his cum dripping down your inner thigh.
"Yeah." Draco said, stepping away, and you groaned. Why were they still teasing you?
"Shut up." You whined, face pressed into the desk as Draco wandered around, gathering the things you often required to feel better. It was sweet of him, and he knew you had someone watching in case something went awry. Pansy, though she was a lofty bitch, still looked out for things that were wrong.
"We should do this again sometime." Pansy said, and you wanted to nod, face still flush and body still melted to the counter, but you couldn't. Though that was the hottest thing Draco had ever done.
"Maybe. We'll see." Draco said from across the room, and you felt chilled to your bone suddenly. You missed his skin, the feeling of him, the smell of him... he needed to come back.
"Right, well... I've got dinner plans, are you two still coming over on Saturday for the party?" Pansy asked, and you nodded, thought she couldn't see it, so Draco responded verbally. Good. He was so good to you.
"We'll be there." Draco promised, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as he brushed hair out of your face, pressing soft kisses to any skin he could reach.
"Excellent. And Y/N, dear?" Pansy asked, and you lifted your head, still feeling like your feet were hardly on the ground. She looked at you through thick eyelashes, leaning back in her chair. "I'm proud of you. Good job." Pansy said, her smirk and silk tone making you shiver as she ended the call. Draco picked you up, carrying you over to the bed, holding you close, making the world feel a bit less buzzy.
"Are you alright?" He asked, and you nodded. You'd need some care later, but right now this was all you needed.
"Talk later. Rest now." You mumbled against his skin, feeling your eyelids get heavy. God, he'd really worn you out this time... good on him, you'd asked him to.
"Okay, my love. Okay." Draco murmured against your hairline, holding you against his chest.
#submission#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fic#harry potter imagine#harry potter fluff#harry potter smut#harry potter angst#hp fluff#hp fanfiction#hp fanfic#hp smut#hp angst#harry potter x fem!reader#harry potter x yn#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you#harry potter x reader#draco malfoy#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy fanfic#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy smut#draco malfoy fluff#draco malfoy angst#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy x fem!reader#draco malfoy x y/n
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「 bruised dummy 」
george weasley x reader
summary: you can tell that something’s wrong with george, yet he stubbornly won’t tell you what it is that’s bothering him.
requested: yes - as part of my inspo party
word count: 1.8k
warnings: friends to lovers, angst, fluff ending, mentions of wincing, arguing, mentions of physical fighting (punching, etc)
a/n: i must have been in an angsty mindset the day i wrote this, okay? i meant for this to be super fluffy & cute, but then this happened. i still tried to make it fluffy for all of you, but pls be aware there is some heavy angst beforehand. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!
You can’t help but frown as you watch your best friend. Ever since you met up with him this evening he’s seemed off which worries you. He had detention, that you know, but he didn’t say what for. Regardless he seems more tired - more worn out - than he usually is.
“George…is everything okay?” You ask as he finally takes a seat beside you, resting an arm on the back of the couch.
“You seem off tonight.”
“Mhm, yeah. I’m fine, love. I promise.” He states, seemingly trying to convince you of the fact.
You don’t like that he’s hiding something, but you don’t want to push him either. You are only friends. Not to mention the fact that you’ve pushed too far before, creating an argument in which he made it very clear that you’re not his girlfriend and that you should “stop acting like you are.”
“Alright. If you say so.” You sigh, knowing deep in your gut that everything is not fine with him.
~.~
A few minutes of silence pass after your question before George suggests watching a movie. Figuring that it’s probably the safest option, you agree, which is why you’re currently sitting on the common room couch watching ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.’
You’re about halfway through the movie - if not further - and George has yet to say a single thing. You haven’t missed the way he winces and gasps every now and then when he tries to readjust his position, though.
On a particularly loud grunt, you turn to him and pause the movie.
“George, what is wrong? Don’t act like you haven’t been wincing in pain every time you move. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, y/n. Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”
“No. Not until I know you’re okay. You say you’re fine, but I’m not believing it in the slightest.” You state, not letting him brush this aside any more than he already has.
“I know I’m not your girlfriend, and you don’t like when I push you like this, but if you’re hurt I want to know. Please, George.”
“I’m just a little sore, that’s all.” He states, but you get the feeling that he’s still lying.
“Why?”
“Why? Why what?” He questions you back, surprised by your question.
“Why are you sore? What have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything. I just slept wrong, I think.”
At his reply all you can do is hum, not believing him at all. Especially not when he winces at simply trying to turn his torso to lay down.
“I swear, y/n. I’m fine. Can we just watch the movie?” George questions, finally getting comfortable, but not without plenty of screwed up faces and wincing.
“You can.” You state, tossing the remote at him as you go to get up.
“I’m going to head up to my dorm.”
“What? Why?” He asks, taken back by your sudden want to leave.
“Y/n! What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to finish the movie?”
“Honestly, George, I don’t feel like hanging out with someone who can’t be honest with me. Especially when said person claims I’m their best friend.” You state, standing at the edge of the couch, exasperated.
“Y/n…I am being honest. I’m fine. Don’t be like this. Please.”
“Don’t be like what, George? A caring person with enough dignity to not let someone continue to lie to their face?”
“Or maybe like a nagging girlfriend - which you’ve so freely called me before? Trust me when I say I know I’m not your girlfriend, george.” You state, not being able to stop yourself from muttering the next few words out of your mouth.
“Merlin knows you’ve made that much clear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, almost seeming hurt by your words.
“Exactly what it implies. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve kept me at arm’s length. You can’t be honest with me about anything serious. It’s as if you don’t trust me, or can’t accept the fact that I truly care for you - have since we met.” You state, finally fed up with his obliviousness, or sheer lack of care for you - whichever it is.
“How can we be friends when you act like our entire friendship is a joke?”
At your question, George goes speechless, opening and closing his mouth a few times as you can practically see the gears in his mind trying to work.
“Y/n…love, th-that’s not…I-I don’t think our friendship is a joke. I-I know you care for me, a-and I do trust you. I trust you more than anything…more than anyone else.” He stutters, fighting against whatever pain he’s feeling to sit up.
“You don’t act like it.”
“Something is obviously wrong with you tonight, and yet you keep trying to brush it aside whenever I ask - and I’m asking because I care, because I don’t like seeing you in pain.” You state, crossing your arms in frustration and because you need something to center yourself with your emotions flying every which way.
“I’m sorry. Merlin, I’m sorry, y/n. Please…come here.” George nearly begs, voice softer than it had been all night.
Although you’re frustrated with him, you can’t help but give in and make your way over to him again. Once you’re within reaching distance, he grabs you around your waist, pulling you down into his lap.
At the motion, you can see him wince yet again, but you finally give up on asking him what’s causing it.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for brushing your concern away. I’m sorry for not being honest with you. I’m sorry for making it seem like I don’t trust you, for making you feel like our relationship is a joke, and for being such a terrible friend. Godric, I’m sorry.”
As he apologizes, George can’t help but tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as a means to squash his rising anxiety. He can’t help but run a thumb over your cheek as he tries to build the confidence to admit to you everything he’s been feeling.
“I need more than just an apology, george. It’s been like this for years, and frankly, I’m over it.” You state, rather matter of factly.
“I know. I know, and I’m trying. I swear. I don’t want you to leave me.” He admits, tightening his grip around your waist.
“I know I’ve been treating you unfairly, and I’m so sorry. I…I’ve been really dumb, all because…”
“Because what, george?”
“B-because I really like you.” He sighs, his grip on you tightening ever so gently as he drops his head.
“You…like me?”
“I do. I like you so much, and I don’t want you to think badly of me. I don’t want you to think I’m weak or anything. I-I want you to like me too.” George rambles and you can’t help but shake your head at him with a smile.
“What? Why are you smiling? Why’re you shaking your head?” He questions, a pout on his lips that you can’t help but find adorable.
“You really are dumb, george.” You chuckle.
“Wh-why?”
“I like you too, dummy. Why do you think I’m always trying to see if you’re okay? Why do you think I sometimes act like a ‘nagging girlfriend?”
“Merlin, I’m sorry for ever calling you that, y/n. I know you were just trying to make sure I was okay. I never should have shouted at you like that.” He sighs, dropping his head in shame as he continues to hold you.
“Hey, it’s okay. Sure, it hurt me to be called that, but I shouldn’t have pushed you.” You try to comfort him, running a hand over his forehead to push some of his hair back.
“No. No, you were fine. I was trying to be manly and instead of just telling you what was wrong I yelled at you when you didn’t deserve it.”
“I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Especially seeing that look on your face. I hurt you and I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” You question, meeting his eyes as he looks up at you.
“I-I got in a fight with some slytherin kid today.” He sighs.
“I didn’t start it, but we got caught and that’s why I had detention this afternoon.”
“So you’re wincing in pain because…?”
At your question, George lets out a sigh before unwrapping his arms from you, reaching for the hem of his shirt. You watch as he pulls it over his head, drawing a gasp from your lips as you find all the bruises scattered across his torso.
“What did they do to you?! How did you get so many bruises?” You question in pure shock and concern.
“H-he kinda punched, kicked, and shoved me into the walls…”
“George…No wonder you’re in pain. I wish you would’ve just told me earlier. Godric this looks awful…” you frown, tenderly tracing your fingers against the bruises.
“Did you see Ms Pomfrey?”
“No…”
“George Fabien!” You can’t help but exclaim, disappointed, but not at all surprised with his actions.
“Come here.” You sigh, grabbing your wand from the table in front of you.
Casting a quick healing spell, you sigh as his bruises already start to look better.
“I’ll say it again, but George Weasley, you are a dummy.”
“I know…Thank you for caring though, and for fixing me up.” He blushes, smiling shyly up at you as you still sit in his lap.
“Of course. I hope from here on you’ll just tell me when something is wrong.”
“I plan to, y/n. Before we do anything else, though, I want to make sure you know that I do really like you. I actually think I love you. I just, I don’t want to hide it anymore.”
“I love you too, George.”
As the words leave your lips, a smile grows on both of your faces. With the new lightness of the air, you go to stretch out on the couch alongside George whereas he begins to lean in towards you.
“Ah-ah. Don’t go hurting yourself. You’ll still be sore for a day or so.”
“Whatever pain I might get by giving you a kiss is worth it, love. I’ve dreamed about kissing you for far too long. If I have to wait any longer I think I might just die.”
You can’t help but chuckle at his theatrics, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips just to appease him.
Pulling away, you can hear him whine and all you can do is chuckle.
“You need my lips that bad?”
“Y/n, I want to kiss you for the rest of my life, I swear. I’ve already missed out on a few years of them.”
“How about we finish the movie and then I can give you some more?”
“You promise?” He questions, to which you simply nod and chuckle at.
You never would have thought that it’d take some bruises and a small fight between the two of you for your feelings to come out. Now that they are though, you plan to kiss any and all of his injuries better from here on out.
hp taglist: @eunoia-kth @omghufflepuff @impulse-anchor @d22malfoys @jrj2 @luvshack @oliverwoodmarrymepls @chewymoustachio @axen-gers @pineapplesandpinas @mollysolo @hpotterwhore @teenwolfbitches28 @justmesadgirl @jackys-stuff-blog @inglourious-imagines @perfectlysane24 @pandaxnienke @celestialmage23 @accio-remus-lupin
george weasley/weasley twins taglist: @darthwheezely @horrorxweasley
#theoreticslut’s inspiration party#harry potter#hp fanfic#hp angst#hp fluff#george weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley angst#george weasley fluff
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After the war, Harry pays for James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily's graves to have 'Mischief Managed' added. He debates not doing it, but eventually, he asks for it to be added to Fred's grave too. Instead, on Fred's grave it says 'Mischief' and when George dies, his grave will be right next to Fred's reading 'Managed'.
#mischief managed#harry potter#boy who lived#james potter#lily evans#lily potter#sirius black#remus lupin#fred weasley#george weasley#fred and george#marauders headcanon#harry potter headcanon#weasley headcanon#headcanons#hp marauders#hp angst#gryffindor headcanons
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