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redgoldsparks · 8 months

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I wrote a 12 page epilogue to my 2019 comic "Harry Potter and The Problematic Author" because I found, in 2023, that I had more to say. You can also find this comic on my website, and I have PDF copies available on etsy. I may sell print copies at some point in the future.

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

Full transcript below the cut.

PAGE 1

Part one: Ruddy Owls!

I was in fourth grade when the first Harry Potter Book was released in the US.

Panel 1: Sometimes our teacher would read it aloud in class. “Mr and Mrs Dursley of number 4 Privat Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

Panel 2: I was 11 years old when Harry Potter finally broke through my dyslexia and turned me into a reader.

Panel 3: Every night in the summer before sixth grade I waited for the owl carrying my Hogwarts Letter. I cried when it didn’t come. “I have to go to Muggle school!”

PAGE 2

Part Two: Hats

I dedicated myself to being a fan.

Panel 1: I began collecting Harry Potter News article.

Panel 2: I asked my relatives to mail me ones from their local papers. I filled a thick binder with clippings.

Panel 3: I wrote my own trivia quiz

Panel 4: and participated in the one held annually at the county fair. “Next contestant!”

Panel 5: I usually got into one of. the top five spots. I won boxes of candy, posters, stationary, and once a baseball cap. (Hat reads: I survived the battle of Hogwarts).

Panel 6: In high school I sewed a black velvet cape and knitted many stripped scarves.

PAGE 3

Part Three: Double Trouble

Watching the last film in 2011 felt like the final note of my childhood.

Panel 1: I remember driving home from the midnight showing thinking about the end of 13 years of waiting; wondering what would define the next chapter of my life.

Panel 2: That same month I heard of something called Pottermore. “Okay, so there’s a sorting quiz… I already know my house! Patronus assignment? Mine’s a barn owl. Duh!"

Panel 3: You can read the books again but with GIFs? Why?

Panel 4: I lived in a place with very slow and limited internet at the time. Pottermore sounded inaccessible, but also boring. I never joined.

Panel 5: "I’ll just read the actual books again, thanks."

PAGE 4

Part Four: Sweets

In 2016, a series of short stories titled "History of Magic in North America” were released on Pottermore to pave the way for the first Fantastic Beasts Film. These stories display an extreme ignorance of American history, culture, and geography, but the worst parts are the casual misuse of indigenous beliefs and stories. Fans and critics immediately spoke up against this appropriation. Some of the most quoted voices included Nambe Pueblo scholar Dr. Debbie Reese who runs the site “American Indians In Children’s Literature”; Navajo writer Brian Young; Johnnie Jae (Otoe-Missouria and Choctaw), founder of A Tribe Called Geek; Dr Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation), a Professor at Brown University who runs the blog “Native Appropriations”, and writers N.K. Jemison and Paula Young Lee.

PAGE 5

Rowling is famous for responding to fans directly on twitter, yet she did not respond to anyone calling out the damaging aspects of “Magic in North America.” Her representatives refused to comment for March 9 2016 article in the Guardian. She has never apologized. All of this, plus the casting of Johnny Depp and the specific declarations of support by JKR, Warner Brothers, and director David Yates left a sour taste in my mouth.

For further thoughts on the new films read The Crimes of Grindelwald is a Mess by Alanna Bennett for Buzzfeed News, November 16, 2018.

PAGE 6

Excerpt from Colonialism in Wizarding American: JK Rowling’s History of Magic in North America Through an Indigenous Lens by Allison Mills, MFA, MAS/MLIS (Cree and Settler French Canadian)

Although Rowling is certainly not the first white author to misstep in her treatment of Indigenous cultures, she has an unprecedented level of visibility and fame, […] One of the most glaring problems with Rowling’s story is her treatment of the many Indigenous nations in North America as one monolithic group. […It] flattens out the diversity of languages, belief systems, and cultures that exist in Indigenous communities, allowing stereotyping to persist. […] It continues a long history of colonial texts which ignore that Indigenous peoples still exist. […] In the Wizarding world, as in the real world, Indigenous histories have been over-written and our cultures erased.

from The Looking Glass: New Perspectives in Children’s Literature Volumn 19, Issue 1

PAGE 7

Part 5: Music

Panel 1: Also in 2016 I discovered two podcasts which radically altered my experience of being an HP fan. The first was Witch Please created by two Canadian feminist literary scholars Hannah McGregor and Marcelle Kosman.

Panel 2: “If it’s not in the text it doesn’t count!” “Close reading ONLY!”

Panel 3: They talk about Harry Potter at the level you’d expect in a college class with particular focus on gender, race, class, and the troubling fatphobia, fear of othered and queer coded bodies, violence against women, white feminism, gaslighting and failed pedagogy in the books. They bring up these issues not because they hate the series, but because they LOVE it.

PAGE 8

These passionate, joyful conversations went off like fireworks in my mind. I had never taken a feminist class before. I gained a whole new vocabulary to talk about the books- and the world.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: The second podcast I started that year was Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, created by two graduates of the Harvard Divinity School, Vanessa Zoltan and Casper Ter Kuile.

Panel 2: They read one chapter per episode through a theme such as love, control, curiosity, shame, responsibility, hospitality, destruction, or mystery. Like Witch Please, they are interested only in the information on the page, not thoughts from the author. The delights and failures of the text are examined in the context of the present day, and new meanings constantly arise.

PAGE 10

What does it mean to treat a text as sacred?

Trusting that the more time we give to it, the more blessings it has to give us.

Reading the text repeatedly with concentrated attention. Our effort is part of what makes it sacred. The text is not in and of itself sacred, but is made so by rigorously engaging in the ritual of reading.

Experiencing it in community.

“To me, the goal of treating the text as sacred is that we learn to treat each other as sacred.” -Vanessa Zoltan

PAGE 11

Part 6: Tooth and Claw

In October 2017, Rowling liked a tweet linking to an article arguing that trans women should be kept out of women’s bathrooms because of cisgender women’s fears. In March 2018, she liked a tweet about the problem of misogyny in the UK Labour Party which included the line “Men in dresses get brosocialist solidarity I never had.” The author of the tweet had previously posted many blatantly anti-trans statements.

Rowlings publicist claimed she had liked the posted by accident in a “clumsy and middle-aged moment.” Yet, in September 2018 she liked a link posted by Janice Turner to her column in the Times UK titled “Trans Rapists Are A Danger In Women’s Jails.”

Screencaps of these tweets can be found in the article “The Mysterious Case of JK Rowling and her Transphobic Twitter History”, January 10 2019 by Gwendolyn Smith (a trans journalist), LGBTQNation.com

PAGE 12

Excerpt from: Is JK Rowling Transphobic? A Trans Woman Investigates by Katelyn Burns

Ultimately, the answer is yes, she is transphobic […] I think it’s fair that she receives criticism from trans people, especially given her advocacy on behalf of queer people in general, but also because she has a huge platform. Many people look up to her for creating a singular piece of popular culture that holds deep meaning for fans from different walks of life, and she has a responsibility to handle that platform wisely. (Published on them.us March 28, 2018)

PAGE 13

Part 7: Home

At age 30, I’m still not over Harry Potter.

Panel 1: I’ve recently found a local bar that does HP trivia nights. “Poppy or Pomona?” “Poppy!”

Panel 2: I currently own an annual pass to Universal Studios so I can visit Hogsmeade.

Panel 3: I love talking to kids who are reading the books for the first time. “Who’s your favorite character?” “Ginny!”

Panel 4: And I’m planning a relisten to the audio books to next year to help me get through the election cycle. “Jim Dale, I’m going to need you more than ever…”

Spoiler from 2023: I did not do this. By mid-2020 JKR had posted her transphobic essay; we were in covid; I never visited Universal Studios again.

PAGE 14

But I do want to learn from her mistakes. I never want to repeat “Magic in North America.” As I write, I will do my research. I will consult experts and compensate them. If a reader from a different culture/background than me speaks up about my work, I will listen and apologize. I KNOW I WILL MAKE MISTAKES. But I will own up to them and I will do better.

PAGE 15

Excerpt from Diversity Is Not Enough: Race, Power and Publishing by Daniel José Older

We can love a thing and still critique it. In fact, that’s the only way to really love a thing. Let’s be critical lovers and loving critics and open ourselves to the truth about where we are and where we’ve been. Instead of holding tight to the same old, failed patriarchies, let’s walk a new road, speak new languages. Today, let’s imagine a literature, a literary world, that carries this struggle for equity in its very essence, so that tomorrow it can cease to be necessary, and disappear. (Buzzfeed, April 14, 2017)

PAGE 16

Harry Potter is flawed, & JK Rowling is problematic. But the books helped me learn a lot:

*One of the greatest dangers facing the modern world is the rise of fascism

*The government cannot be trusted

*Read and think critically

*Question the news: who paid the journalist? Who owns the paper?

*Trust and support your friends through good times and bad

*Organize for resistance

*Educate and share resources with peers

*The revolution must be diverse and intersectional

* We are only as strong as we are united

*The weapon we have is love

MK 2019

PAGE 17

PART 8: EPILOGUE

In 2021 I removed a Harry Potter patch I sewed to my book bag over a decade ago. I took 15 pieces of Harry Potter fanart off my walls. I got rid of my paperback book set, 2 board games, and 8 t-shirt. [images: a Hogwarts a patch with loose threads, a pair of scissors and a seam ripper]

Panel 1: Maia holding up a shirt with the Deathly Hallows logo on it. Maia thinks: “Damn, this really used to be my entire personality.”

Panel 2: The t-shirt gets thrown into the Goodwill box.

PAGE 18

I wrote my zine wrestling with JKR’s legacy in 2019, after her dismissive and racist reaction to indigenous fans and critics of “Magic in North America” and after she had liked a couple transphobic tweets. Since then, she has gotten so much worse.

A Brief Timeline (mostly from this Vox article)

June 2020- JKR posts a 3600 word essay making her anti-trans position clear

August 2020- The Robert F Kennedy Human Rights Org issues a statement about her transphobia, JKR doubles down on her position and returns an award they gave her

December 2020- JKR claims 90% of HP fans secretly agree with her anti-trans views

December 2021- JKR mocks Scottish Police for recognizing transgender identities

March 2022- JKR criticizes gender-inclusive language and legislation

December 2022- JKR retweets trans youtuber Jessie Earl’s critical review of Hogwarts Legacy, starting an onslaught of transphobic harassment towards Earl

December 2022- JKR removes her support from an Edinburgh center for survivors of sexual violence with a trans-inclusive policy and funds her own center which explicitly excludes trans sexual assault survivors

January 2023- JKR tweets “Deeply amused by those telling me I’ve lost their admiration due to disrespect I show violent, duplicitous rapists.” It got nearly 300K likes

March 2023- One the podcast “The Witch Trials of JK Rowling”, hosted by a former Westboro Baptist Church Member, JKR compares the trans rights movement to Death Eaters.

PAGE 19

What are The Witch Trials of JK Rowling?

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “It’s a 7 episode documentary style podcast hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper. Nearly every episode contains interviews with JKR as well as critics, journalists, historians, protestors and fans.

Panel 2: Maia speaking. “In episode 1, JKR speaks more candidly than she has previously about being in an abusive marriage. Her ex-husband hit her, stalked her, broke into her house overlapping with the time she was writing the first three HP books.”

Panel 3: Maia speaking. “What she went through genuinely sounds horrific. I have a lot of sympathy for the kind of life-long traumas those experiences leave.”

PAGE 20

HOWEVER.

It is clear from reading the June 2020 essay on her blog and listening to the podcast, that JKR still to this day feels unsafe. Despite her wealth and privilege she moves through the world with the mindset of a victim. And the group of people she finds most threatening are trans women.

Or rather, she is afraid that allowing trans women in women’s spaces invites the possibility of male predators entering those spaces.

Here’s a direct quote: The problem is male violence. All a predator wants is access and to open the doors of changing rooms, rape centers, domestic violence centers [...] to any male who says “I’m a woman and I have a right to be here” will constitute a risk to women and girls. - from The Witch Trials episode 4 as transcribed by therowlinglibrary.com, March 2023

Image: A stem of Belladonna with flowers and berries.

PAGE 21

Let me introduce here the term: TRANSMISOGYNY. The intersection of transphobia and misogyny, this term was coined by Julia Serano in 2007. Scout Tran, on tiktok as Queersneverdie said: “Transmisogyny occurs in people who have been previously hurt by traditional misogyny. Who have been driven to hate men or at the very least to be scared of men. They will sometimes take out that rage on trans women. (March 2023)

JKR claims to care for trans women and understand they are extremely vulnerable to assault and violence. In her 2020 Essay she wrote: “I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe.”

So she cares about trans women… just less than cis women, and she’s willing to throw all trans women under the bus because of her unfounded, prejudice fears.

PAGE 22

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “JKR claims to have seen data that proves trans women have presented physical threats to other women in intimate spaces, but never cites sources. She also uses “producer of the large gametes” as a definition of “woman”.

What about transmen and nonbinary folks?

Panel 2: Maia leaning on a stack of all seven HP books, the first four Cormorant Strike books and The Casual Vacancy, gesturing to a series of quotes with a tired and disgusted expression.

I’m concerned about the huge explosion of young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning. * [...] If I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. -June 10 2020 essay

I don’t believe a 14 year old can truly understand what the loss of their fertility is.

-Witch Trials episode 4

I haven’t yet found a study that hasn’t found that the majority of young people experiencing gender dysphoria grow out of it*. -Witch Trials episode 7

*No sources cited

PAGE 23

It’s hard to over emphasize how fixated JKR has become on these topics. As of the date I’m writing this, 14 out of her 20 most recent tweets (70%) are in some way anti-trans. She tweets against Mermaids (a UK based trans youth charity), against trans athletes, against gender neutral bathrooms, and in support of LBG Alliance- a UK org that denies trans rights while upholding gay rights. Here are some gems from her archive:

“People who menstruate.” I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud? -June 2020

War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. The Penised Individual Who Raped You Is a Woman. - December 2021

And in response to someone asking “How do you sleep at night knowing you lost a whole audience?”

I read my most recent royalty cheques and find the pain goes away pretty quickly. -October 2022

PAGE 24

Hashtag Ruthless Productions a queer nerd podcast company created a great guide on ethical engagement with HP. Image: the two hosts of Hashtag Ruthless productions, Jessie (They/she) and Lark (he/him).

Stop buying all official HP Products: books, movies, games, toys, etc, Universal Studios tickets, food, merch.* Boycott any new TV series or movies. Instead: buy the books and DVDs used. If you still want to wear HP merch, buy fan-made. Engage only with fan content: fic, podcasts, fanart, wizard rock, etc. Show transphobia is bad for business. None of this will change JKR’s mind. But the Fantastic Beast series was canceled and after record Pottermore sales in 2020, they fell in 2022 by 40%.

*She gets a portion of ALL tickets. In 2019, this was her largest income source. Read the full guide: hashtagruthless.com/resourceguide

PAGE 25

As late as 2019, I was still reading JKR’s murder mystery series. But by the fourth book my experience began to sour.

Panel 1: Maia holding a copy of Lethal White. “The only gay character in this book is a government official who gropes his staff?”

Panel 2: “The only genderqueer character is misgendered and portrayed as a whiny faker?”

Panel 3: “The only Muslim character is disowned by his family over gay rumors?”

Panel 4: “Even the women aren’t portrayed very well…”

Panel 5: “Why is the main female character defined by the rape in her past?”

Panel 6: “Wait, what happens in the rest of this series…?” Maia scrolls on eir phone.

Panel 7: “Is the series heading towards an employee/boss relationship?”

Panel 8: “And has a man wearing women’s clothes to commit assault?”

Panel 9: “Yeah, I’m done. I’m never reading a new JKR book ever again.”

PAGE 26

And as for JKR herself?

As tempting as it might be to tweet your frustrations at her, I don’t recommend it. In 2021, she tweeted, “Hundreds of trans activists have threatened to beat, rape, assassinate and bomb me.” Getting hate online feeds her sense of victimhood and she waves it as proof of her moral high ground. Instead I suggest you block her on twitter, then delete twitter, go to the library and try to find a new book that feels magical.

Stack of books: In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan, The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, Gifts by Ursula K Le Guin, Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane, A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik and Gideon the Ninth by Tamsin Muir.

PAGE 27

In “Emergent Strategy” adrienne maree brown writes: You do not have the right to traumatize abusive people, to attack them, personally or publicly, or to sabotage anyone else’s health. The behaviors of abuse are also survival-based, learned behaviors rooted in pain. If you can look through the lens of compassion, you will find hurt and trauma there. If you are the abused party, healing that hurt is not your responsibility and exacerbating that pain is not your justified right.

PAGE 28

Seeing anyone over age 12 wearing HP merch now makes me uncomfortable. Are they ignorant or actively a TERF? I hate wondering how much money JKR has probably poured into anti-trans legislation… This zine is a culmination of my slow breakup with a story that once brought me joy. Now it just makes me angry, tired and sad.

Image: Candle in a fancy holder burned down to less than an inch.

Maia Kobabe, 2023

#harry potter #harry potter and the problematic author #jk rowling #transphobia #jk rowling transphobic

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its--ali · 2 years

Text

#good to know that my dog hates me now #just me. not my mom. not my sister. just me #dont know what the fuck i did to make him hat me but he bit me twice earlier #no blood or marks but like.#obvious painful catching of teeth on skin in an intentional manner #he didnt even want me to say goodnight to him #its routine i always tuck him in but tonight he just looked at me and then away #like 'yeah whatever'#this is literally like. my worst nightmare #i can handle the whole rest of the world hating me but muggles?#hes my baby boy i dont know what ill do if he really does #i dont know what i did im just horrible i guess

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enha-doodles · 12 days

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Heyya I love your works 💗💗 and I was wondering if u u could do Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a muggleborn 🥹

Classic yk🕺🏻🕺🏻

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING A MUGGLEBORN | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore , Lorenzo , Draco) x muggleborn!reader

Note : tysm bestie 🤪🤪✨ also that is such a classic request !!!

Warnings : mentions of fighting , toxicness in Tom's (I mean?)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Yes , he's got this thing against Muggle-borns, but if it's you, he's willing to put on his big boy pants and overlook it. But don't you dare insult his girl's blood status, or else you'll witness a show even Voldemort himself would be proud of! Picture it: a bunch of Slytherin wannabes start spouting nonsense about you not being worthy of Mattheo because he's the Dark Lord's spawn, and well you're just a stupid mudblood.

That sets Mattheo off like a firecracker! He goes all Hulk mode, smashing and bashing until they're all groveling at his feet. "Stay in your fucking place, you piece of shit, or else you won't live to tell the tale of Voldemort's son representing the Dark Lord himself!" He's a total hotie in fight mode btw

TOM RIDDLE

Now, Tom's got issues. He's got this whole orphanage baggage weighing him down, but deep down, he's just a lovesick puppy because he never received any. Sure, he hates the whole blood status talk, but he loves you more than he hates it. And merlin, does he have a way of showing it! He'll dominate and control like it's his daily job, but common, it's all out of love, right? And if anyone dares to even look at you funny, bam! It's going to be a hex city, and guess whose the population ? them.

But if you try to disobey or disrespect him he won't hesitate to return to his true self , he'd grab your chin harshly and menacingly whisper, "You're just a filthy mudblood, know your place. Here, God isn't your lord. I am."

THEODORE NOTT

hmm, Theodore, the rebel with a cause. He's not like his father , nothing like him at all and he constantly wants to prove it , this is just one of those things that help him show you and others that he's different.He couldn't care less about blood status drama. Nope, if he loves you, he loves ALL of you, flaws and all.

He'd threaten everyone around that you're his girl and if anyone says anything to you or if they try to hurt you then they'd be found dead before they can say sorry . "Get this in your stupid ass head, you dick - you mess with her, you mess with me and remember I don't pull bunnies out of a hat ."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo's like that curious cat who just can't resist poking his nose into everything. Muggle stuff? Fascinating! Like Theodore he wouldn't mind . He'd actually ask more about how it's there and all the technology intrigues him but he'd still be on about how magic is better . He would support you all the time and try to indulge in stuff to make you feel better .

Would threaten his friends to be mindful of their words around you because you're very dear to him and he wouldn't mind a punch to two if it means you're protected "Hey hey hey , watch it or I won't!"

DRACO MALFOY

Draco, return of the drama queen of Slytherin lmao . He'll start off all high and mighty, spouting hurtful things left, right, and center. But when reality hits and you stop talking to him , he realizes he's messed up, cue the banging at your door , sputtering out apologies and the gifts galore - rich boy lowkey buying his way out but you can't complain because he's got all your favourite stuff .

Draco would kinda joke to lighten the mood "God, I love you, but my father cannot hear about this." Classic Draco, am I right?

。　　　　✧��　　　⁺　　　。

TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath

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lexamiele · 3 months

Text

My Best Friend's Brother

Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: approx. 7k

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been your best friend since you were both sorted into Slytherin, and you secretly have a thing for his older brother. Then, your friends pull Tom into a late-night game of Truth or Dare. What could go wrong?

Warnings/be aware: she/her reader, ooc!Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle isn't Voldemort just the mysterious Head Boy, one short description of violence/wounds, alcohol consumption, Mattheo smokes cigarettes, one Dramione mention, "you're the only one allowed to touch him" trope, possessiveness, no blood purity ideologies in this fic

A/N: Yay, first fic on this blog is up! I had so much fun writing this. I didn't picture myself ever making a Victorious reference in a Slytherin boys fic but whatcha gonna do. Writing best friend!Mattheo was such a good time, I think he'd be such a fun bestie.

______________________________________________________________

Since your first day at Hogwarts, Mattheo Riddle had been your best friend.

You remembered that fateful day on the Hogwarts Express well. You were a Muggle-born who didn’t know the first thing about magic or Hogwarts, who shyly sat in a train car by yourself reading your school textbooks and trying to figure out what you were about to walk into. Then the compartment door opened and a boy with sparkling hazel eyes and floppy brown curls stumbled in, laughing, shoved by one of his friends. Figuring that they’d dared him to go talk to the weird kid reading by herself, you’d rolled your eyes, but he’d ignored your attitude and introduced himself nonetheless. He asked you why you were sitting by yourself and you were honest, telling him that you didn’t know anything about magic and you were trying to figure it out. In stunned silence, you watched as he chuckled before explaining that you didn’t have to have it all figured out – half of his friends didn’t, and most of them had grown up in the wizarding world with two magical parents and all magical friends. Then, he let you practically interrogate him about all things magical until it was time to change into your robes and arrive at the castle. He patted the seat next to him in invitation when he hopped into a boat and the rest was history.

“Slytherin!” When the Sorting Hat cried out your placement to the Great Hall, Mattheo was the only cheer amongst a sea of polite claps, and your nerves disappeared when you looked over to your new house table and saw him hollering joyfully. After you joined him at the table, he introduced you to the rest of his friends – Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott…

“And this is my brother, Tom. He’s older and wiser, so if you’ve got any questions, ask Tommy Boy over here.”

The elder Riddle’s eyes finally strayed from the pages of the book he’d been reading at the sound of the unwanted nickname, glaring at his younger brother before glancing toward you. You immediately felt the air leave your chest. He was absolutely striking, with darker curls than Mattheo and piercing green eyes that contrasted starkly with his brother’s hazel. His expression was focused and intense and you were paralyzed in his gaze.

“There’s no need to be afraid of my brother, by the way,” Mattheo said later as the two of you stood in line, following your Prefect to the Slytherin dormitories with the other students. “He likes to think he’s intimidating, but he’s really just a big nerd.”

“Oh, I’m not scared,” you responded, and he looked at you in confusion. “Just…a little caught off guard, that’s all.” He shrugged, and you were relieved that he believed you. You didn’t know much about boys, but you suspected that your brother’s attractive wouldn’t go over well.

As you grew older, you only grew closer to your little group of Slytherin friends. You’d gone on your fair share of dates, had your first kiss with Theo on a dare, and loved and lost a few times, but you’d never quite been able to shake that feeling that Tom gave you, like he could see right through you. It didn’t help that he’d transformed from striking to downright gorgeous with age – his face had hardened into sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, accompanied by that same piercing green stare he’d always had. He’d become a truly upstanding Hogwarts student, always put together and responsible without a hair out of place, keeping the rest of the student body in line as Head Boy. His intense and commanding nature made him even more attractive to you, but even when he paused his studies and Head Boy duties to sit about with his brother’s friends, it seemed like he was a million miles away, eager to remove himself from the group’s antics. When your friends had dared you and Theo to kiss, he’d rolled his eyes in disgust, scoffing incredulously when you’d actually gone through with it.

Yet, he’d also developed an oddly gentle demeanor towards you…at least compared to the way he treated the rest of the students at Hogwarts. When you visited the Riddles’ house for the first time during the summer after second year and their parents were hostile towards you, Tom laid a hand on your shoulder and told you to pay them no mind. During your third year, you finally gotten the hang of Potions – your worst class up until that point – and he nodded appreciatively every time you announced to Mattheo that you’d earned another O on an assignment, assuring you that the class was quite difficult and you were doing well. While in your fourth year, the Yule Ball came around, and a nasty older girl in Slytherin teased you a few weeks before the event for not having a date yet. When Tom overheard, he told the girl off harshly and took points from his own house just to punish her.

“Sadie Burke is a nasty creature,” he muttered darkly, pulling you aside after reprimanding her. “Don’t listen to a word she says, okay?” He cleared his throat. “Do I need to tell my brother to get his act together and take his best friend to the Ball?” Your face reddened and you looked at the floor, embarrassed that he was under the impression that you couldn’t find a date.

“No, I…honestly, I’ve already turned down a few offers,” you said quietly. It was true – Zacharias Smith had creeped you out and you knew that Michael Corner had only asked you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. Besides, even if you knew that he wouldn’t, you’d been carrying a slight flame of hope that Tom would ask you. “Maybe I should’ve accepted. But Enz agreed to be my backup anyway, with his girlfriend off at Durmstrang and all. So no need to badger your brother,” you added with a hesitant grin. Tom let out a sigh.

“I was hoping Mattheo would take you,” he groaned. “I’m sick of him turning up to these things with girls he won’t even bother to learn the name of.” You laughed in spite of yourself. I hoped my brother would ask you out wasn’t exactly what you’d been hoping to hear, but Tom was right about one thing – your best friend was quickly becoming a menace in the relationship department.

“It’s so annoying!” you agreed. “I feel bad for them – he never treats them poorly or anything, but he’s got the attention span of a fish. There aren’t that many girls here - at the rate he’s going, by next year he’s going to have to double back and go for a second round with some of them.” Tom chuckled slightly, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“I want to start warning them off, just to see what happens.” He paused for a moment, then frowned. “He’s never tried any of that with you, right?” You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“Ew, no!” you objected with a giggle. “Neither of us think about each other like that.” An indiscernible look passed across Tom’s face for a moment before he met your gaze again.

“Good.” He walked away, brushing past you and leaving you with chills where his hand touched your shoulder as he moved.

You’d ultimately gone to the ball with Enzo and had a blast, though you felt a pang of envy as you watched Tom escort some other Prefect in Ravenclaw. You saw her around the Slytherin common room a few times after that, but apparently Tom’s solitary nature ultimately won over and she disappeared like the many other girls who’d begun to realize that he was attractive. That, you realized, was the difference between the Riddle brothers. Both (objectively) stunningly handsome, but Mattheo was at least willing to humor the girls who were interested in him for a while. Tom had no interest, giving even the few girls who’d managed to drag him out to Hogsmeade the cold shoulder after one date.

As you witnessed this from the sidelines throughout your fifth year and saw no evidence that he’d change, you decided that your crush on him had to go. So you went out on dates yourself, snogged Theo, and found a boyfriend, and when that didn’t work out, another. But when that boyfriend cheated on you, Tom walked in on you sobbing on Mattheo’s shoulder in the Slytherin common room. The next day your newly ex-boyfriend wound up in the Hospital Wing with gnarly open sores all over his body, unable to remember what had happened. Not even the professors had seen a spell like it before. Mattheo confessed to you that evening that he recognized the spell as one his brother had invented.

“Why would he do something like that?” you asked, confused.

“I may have mentioned to him at breakfast that I was going to fight the bloke,” Mattheo admitted. “He hates when I get detentions, thinks it smears the family name.” Your best friend rolled his eyes. “I guess he was worried that I would get caught.”

It was sick and twisted, but your brain flashed between believing Mattheo’s explanation and wondering whether Tom’s actions meant that he felt something for you. Even though you knew it was wrong, the thought of Tom being vicious and protective over you made you even more attracted to him then you already were. In spite of your best efforts, you entered your sixth year with another major crush on him. It was one of the few points of continuity in the whirlwind that was your first NEWT year, really. Between studying for your increasingly difficult classes, homework assignments, Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade weekends, and the eternally raucous parties that your best friend threw in the Slytherin common room, you barely had time to get a word in edgewise with your life. But two things remained: your Slytherin friend group and your feelings for Tom Riddle.

“Y/N!” Pansy hissed one fall night of your sixth year as you lay in bed, ready to fall asleep. You rolled over, squinting at her in the darkness. “Mattheo just sent me an owl.” The bird flapped out of the open window and into the pitch black air as she spoke.

“At this time of night?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “What does he want?”

“He still has some Firewhiskey from the party last night,” she whispered. “He wants us to come down to the common room with Nott and Zabini and them so we can finish it.”

“Ughhh,” you groaned. “Pans, we’ve been drinking all weekend. Didn’t you want to get up early and go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

“It’s fine, we can go in the afternoon,” she reasoned. “We should kill the Firewhiskey before Snape or some Prefect finds it.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Daph!” you hissed, launching your pillow across the room at Daphne, who was laying in her bed half asleep.

“Whaddya want?” she mumbled, snapping up and rubbing her eyes.

“Drinks in the common room, you in?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she whispered with a yawn. “Let’s do it.”

When the three of you stumbled down to the common room, you found the boys sitting about, passing a couple of half-empty bottles around, the room illuminated only by the green light of the lake and a small lamp that the boys had lit. Draco and Blaise sat back in armchairs while Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theo sat on the floor, taking swigs of Firewhiskey.

“I wish we had some coffee with this,” you groaned as Theo passed you the bottle and you plopped down on an upholstered couch. Pansy joined you while Daphne perched herself on the arm of Blaise’s chair and he slipped an arm around her hips. You glanced at Pansy and the two of you rolled your eyes. Those two just needed to start dating already. Carefully, you took a swig of whiskey from the bottle in your hands, coughing slightly at the burn in your throat before passing it to Pansy. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of a mixer?”

“Couldn’t nick anything from the kitchens,” Mattheo explained as he accepted the other bottle from Draco. Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Please,” she scoffed. “With you, there’s always a way. You just like to feel edgy, drinking it straight and having a cig.”

“Now that you mention it,” he responded with a smirk, pulling a paper out of his pocket and starting to roll a cigarette.

As you continued to pass the bottles around with your friends, you felt your head getting lighter and warmth spread across your chest. Pansy cast a Silencing Charm on the common room so you all could talk without attracting any attention from outside or those in the dormitories and you relaxed, your slight apprehensions about getting caught fading away. You all laughed and played Never Have I Ever, the very targeted prompts revealing exactly how well you all knew each other.

“Never Have I Ever snogged some Ravenclaw at a party and then been paired up with the same guy in Potions the next day,” you said, staring pointedly at Daphne. She grinned and drank as the rest of your friends laughed loudly. It was a legendary story in your friend group, and the partnership had gone on for months. Finally, Blaise banned the guy from Slytherin parties until he requested a change, and he promptly did so. Whether it was out of fear of missing the legendary parties or of Blaise himself, you weren’t sure, but he’d been reluctantly allowed back in.

“Never Have I Ever ditched my mates to hit on some girl,” Enzo chimed in, frowning at Mattheo. Everyone laughed again as Mattheo shook his head and reluctantly accepted the charge, pulling his cigarette from his lips and taking a swig from the bottle.

“You guys are so dramatic,” he groaned.

“You do it all the time, Matty!” you protested lovingly as he passed the bottle. The others nodded in agreement. “We’re having a great time in the Great Hall or at Quidditch or whatever and then some girl waltzes up to you and poof, I suddenly don’t exist to you or her.”

“Don’t come at me for my W rizz,” he objected, crinkling his nose at you.

Theo frowned. “What…what does that mean?”

“Never Have I Ever used the phrase ‘W rizz’ in conversation,” you joked, shaking your head as Mattheo took another drink from the bottle in his hand.

“Never Have I Ever caught feelings for someone in the group,” Draco cut in smugly. You rolled your eyes. He was way too proud of himself for someone who’d only avoided crushing on one of his friends because he’d been pining after Hermione Granger for three years straight. You giggled and watched Daphne and Blaise drink, as well as Enzo and Pansy, who’d had a short-lived fling after the Durmstrang girl had chucked him. Then Pansy passed the bottle to you and you paused, your face turning red.

“Well, who counts as someone in the group?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. With the Firewhiskey in your system, your internal filter wasn’t quite up to scratch. Your friends collectively turned to look at you and Pansy and Daphne raised their eyebrows. They were the two out of the group who knew that you were…intrigued by Mattheo’s older brother. Meanwhile, Draco scoffed.

“Y/N, Nott absolutely counts as someone in the group,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. You smirked.

“Sure, he counts, but he doesn’t qualify for the feelings portion,” you reasoned. “We only kissed on a dare. No offense, Theo,” you added, glancing at your friend.

“Oh, none taken,” he responded airily. He typically went for girls in other houses anyhow.

“Anyway, back to who counts,” Draco said dryly, “Who do you think? Everyone here. Me, Zabini, Berkshire, Nott, Matt, Pans, Daph. Can’t think of anyone else who would.”

“Right,” you replied, passing the bottle without taking a drink.

“Wait, who were you thinking counted?” Mattheo asked, raising his eyebrows. You felt your face heat up even further.

“Oh, you know…other Slytherins.”

“Such as…” he prompted and you laughed, shaking your head as the others watched your exchange curiously.

“None of your beeswax!” you protested, hurling a throw pillow from the couch in his direction as he let out a yelp of protest and tried to bat it away from his face. “No one included in the prompt.”

“Come on,” he whined, pouting at you as he threw the pillow back. “I’m your best mate, you’ve got to at least give me a hint.”

“Not to mention the rest of us,” Enzo complained. “I’m not used to being left in the dark.” Your stomach flipped nervously as you felt Mattheo’s curious eyes on you. You’d managed to prevent him from catching on to how you felt about Tom for this long – you couldn’t mess up now.

Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by a creaking that emerged from the common room entrance. You and your friends sat bolt upright, glancing around hurriedly.

“Someone’s coming!” Pansy hissed.

“No, I never would’ve guessed,” Mattheo retorted, quickly stoppering the liquor bottles with a flick of his wand. “You all,” he continued, gesturing at you, Pansy, Daphne, Draco, and Blaise. “Get down on the floor. I’ll put out the light. It’s probably some other degenerate out past curfew, but I don’t want to have to share the liquor if they see us.” You all obliged as he waved his wand again and you found yourself hiding in the shadows.

Footsteps echoed through the room as you sat frozen with your back pressed to the couch, not even daring to stick your head up to see who they belonged to. You breathed a sigh of relief as they drew closer to the stairs, but tensed once again as they bypassed the steps to the dormitories entirely and instead continued into the depths of the common room.

“Mattheo et. al., you can come out now,” a familiar voice drawled, and your heart rate sped up. Tom. Not just some degenerate…the actual Head Boy. He must be coming back from patrols. You and your friends rose hesitantly as Mattheo re-lit the lamp. Your eyes caught Tom’s through the shadows before his gaze quickly switched back toward his brother. “I can smell that horrendous cologne you wear from the doorway.” He turned back to the group. “It’s very foolish for you all to be breaking curfew, especially at this hour.”

“Tommy, come on,” Mattheo began with a cheeky grin. “You wouldn’t report your brother, would you?”

“That depends,” Tom replied evenly, raising his eyebrows. “Do you all have alcohol?” Panic rose in your chest and you flushed under his scrutiny. Sure, he was hot, but he could also totally report you and get you detention. Frantically, you shook your head as you tried to kick the bottle of Firewhiskey nearest to you under the couch. “Don’t try to hide it,” Tom ordered, holding you in his piercing gaze and sending shivers down your spine. He held out his hand, his rings flashing silver in the light of the lamp. “Give it to me.” You retrieved the bottle and handed it to him, shaking ever so slightly. To your confusion, he unstoppered it. “Thank Salazar,” he groaned, stepping forward and sitting down on the couch. “I need a drink, it’s been a long day.”

Your friends let out audible sighs of relief as they realized that Tom wouldn’t report you all to Professor Snape. “Don’t ever mess with me like that again!” Mattheo complained, sitting back down on the floor. Tom raised his eyebrows.

“I could actually report you, if you’d prefer,” he responded dryly and Mattheo frantically shook his head. Tom scoffed. As your friends slowly began to relax and return to their seats, he smirked, catching your eye. “I really got you, huh?” You blushed, pouting slightly.

“That was mean,” you murmured softly and he let out a chuckle as you sat back down on the couch where you’d been before – which just happened to put you right next to him. As Pansy returned to her old spot, you were squished closer to him and you felt your cheeks heat up more. His self-satisfied expression was annoyingly hot.

“Doesn’t anyone have a glass around here?” he asked, his lip curling slightly as he regarded the bottle in his hand.

“Who do you think we are, bro? Adults?” Mattheo retorted and Tom rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He took a deep swig from the bottle before passing it to Draco, then leaned back against the sofa, throwing the arm nearest to you over the backrest. It was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him.

“So what happened today that drove you to drink?” you asked, intrigued, as bottles began to move between your friends again. Tom rarely even came to Slytherin parties – the one time Mattheo had managed to drag him, he’d gotten irritated and left not even an hour in – and you’d never seen him drink outside of meeting with professors at Three Broomsticks. You were surprised that he was able to down the whiskey with so much ease.

“Idiots on patrols,” he spat in annoyance, his lip curling again. “All sorts of people out of bed, and everyone acting outraged when I took points. These slow patrols full of people who want to argue are cutting into my studying time—“ He paused as you received a bottle from Pansy, took a heavy swig, and passed it to him. He drank deeply once more before passing it on. “—and NEWTS are just months away.”

“Have another drink, big bro, you need some balance,” Mattheo cut in with a mischievous grin. “We can’t have you going grey from stress, now.”

“Yes, advice from Mister Time Management himself,” Tom sneered. “Tell me, how ever do you balance all the girl-chasing with the partying and the nicotine addiction?” Mattheo just laughed, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor.

“All I’m saying is that you just got here,” he replied, grinning as he handed his brother a bottle. “You should probably catch up to the rest of us.” The rest of your friends watched with curiosity.

“With pleasure,” Tom drawled, and to your surprise he took another heavy drink. After he finished, he passed the bottle to you. Not to be outdone, you chugged some yourself before handing it back to him. He took a final swig before passing it on in the other direction. He raised his eyebrows at you after doing so. “It’s not a competition.”

“Why?” you teased, emboldened in your tipsy state. “Scared I’ll drink you under the table?” He scoffed.

“In your dreams.”

“Okay losers, more Never Have I Ever?” Mattheo announced, glancing around at the others. You nodded your assent, but Pansy disagreed.

“I’m bored of that,” she complained. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

“Ooh, let’s do that,” Daphne agreed eagerly.

“Okay, everyone for Truth or Dare?” Mattheo asked and you gave a hesitant thumbs-up. Truth or Dare with your friends tended to get a bit…chaotic. But you could use some chaos tonight. The others nodded.

“You all are twelve,” Tom drawled, taking another drink. Pansy pouted in his direction, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll play.”

“Okay, since you suggested it Pans, truth or dare?” Mattheo began with a mischievous grin.

“Dare,” she responded immediately, sitting up in anticipation.

“Alright…I dare you to leave the common room, do a lap around the dungeons without getting caught by Filch, and then come back.”

As the game continued, you relaxed into the couch, listening to your friends play. Your head was starting to feel heavy from the alcohol and, with a nervous glance at the boy next to you, you rested it on his shoulder. You half expected him to ask what was wrong with you or push you off, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his arm from the backrest of the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaning back so that you could more easily rest on him. You watched, giggling, as Enzo stood on his head and attempted to chug Firewhiskey, spewing it out of his nose and toppling over onto his back instead.

“Great try, Enz,” Theo managed to get out in between gales of laughter. “Who’s next?”

“Y/N.” You sat up, suddenly alert. “Truth or dare?” Enzo asked, a mischievous grin on his face as he straightened himself out.

“Um…truth,” you replied. You didn’t have the energy to stand up, and you definitely didn’t want to be asked to do something ridiculous in front of Tom. Besides, doing anything would require his arm to not be around you, and that sounded awful.

“Great, well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’d love to know which Slytherin you were talking about during Never Have I Ever.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your whole face turn red as the boys turned to watch you with amusement. Pansy and Daphne, on the other hand, acquired similarly shocked expressions, and you saw them both trying to subtly glare daggers at Enzo.

“Who’s this Slytherin?” Tom chimed in before you could say anything.

“Oh, just some fortunate lad that Y/N fancies,” Theo replied smugly, clearly enjoying your embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m intrigued,” Tom drawled in response, raising his eyebrows at you. Your face turned even more red, if it was possible, and you violently shook your head.

“Nope,” you declined. “I’ll drink. I’m not doing that one.” You reached towards Mattheo for the bottle, but he didn’t oblige.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said gently, a slightly hurt look emerging in his eyes. “I’m your best friend – we’re all your best friends. Do you really not trust us enough to tell us?”

You wished with all your heart that you and Mattheo could actually telecommunicate, because the glances you were shooting him clearly weren’t explaining anything. “I just…don’t want to talk about this right now,” you insisted.

“Ughhh, you already picked the easy one anyway!” Draco protested. “Just say it and get one with it, it’s not like we’re going to tell him.”

Saying it right now would be telling him, you idiot, you wished you could shout. Instead, you stubbornly shook your head again. “Nope. We always play this game as Truth, Dare, or drink. I’ll drink.” Finally, Mattheo passed you the bottle and you took what you hoped was a deep enough drink to satisfy your nosy friends. “Okay, Enz, you can ask someone else, since I didn’t do it.” This pacified Enzo well enough and you pulled your knees up to your chest, curling yourself into Tom’s side as you listened to Blaise reveal his first Hogwarts crush – Marietta Edgecombe, apparently. Tom wrapped his arm around you again and unconsciously began playing with the edge of your pajama shorts that hung around your outer thigh. Goosebumps ran across your skin at his touch and you struggled to conceal just how euphoric you felt from being close to him.

Finally, after several rounds of the game, Mattheo fixed Tom in his gaze. “Brother.”

“Yes?” Tom responded dispassionately.

“Truth or – wait a second, why are you two cuddling?”

The entire group seemed to turn their focus to you two at once and you wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, your eyes widening. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, and he kept his arm around you as he held his brother’s gaze.

“She’s had quite a lot to drink, I suspect if I wasn’t keeping her on the couch she would have fallen off of it by now,” he responded in a bored tone. Your heart sank. Had you been reading too much into all of this? Was he just looking out for you, like you were some other duty for him to check off his list? You sat up, hoping to prove that you were fine. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“Truth or dare, brother?”

“Dare.” Mattheo grinned.

“I-“

“Wait a second,” Blaise interrupted. “I have a great one. Call it a…punishment for noncompliance, if you will.” Your stomach flipped nervously as Mattheo’s eyebrows raised. “Let me intercept this one?”

“Let’s hear it,” Mattheo agreed. Blaise smirked. You glanced at Tom, who appeared unimpressed.

“Well,” Blaise began, giving the two of you the closest thing to an evil grin that you’d ever seen, “It seems that a whole slew of problems could be solved here. Riddle, you’re looking for a great way to relieve some stress. Y/N, if that bloke you’re into is too embarrassing to tell us about, then you definitely need to get over him. Ergo, I propose…Seven Minutes in Heaven. Between the two of you.”

You froze, your eyes wide as everyone turned to look at you and Tom for what felt like the fiftieth time that night.

“We are not getting in the closet like we’re dolls that you children want to make kiss,” Tom sneered, frowning at Blaise. “Give me the whiskey, I’ll drink.”

“No, no more drinking!” Draco protested with a laugh, leaning forward in his chair and blocking Enzo as he moved to pass the bottle. “This is getting boring. I agree with Zabini, you two have been way too friendly tonight.” He pointed at a broom closet in the corner. “Get in that broom closet, I don’t care what you do, just don’t come out until we say so.” Tom raised a single eyebrow.

“If you want us to go stand in a broom closet for seven minutes, fine,” he said evenly, standing up. You followed his lead, accepting your fate. “Enjoy the show,” he drawled as he followed you into the closet, shutting the door behind you.

You’d been in a broom closet before alone, and as tight as it had been by yourself, it was unimaginably more cramped with someone else in there too. You and Tom stood chest-to-chest with barely anywhere to go as tension rose in the air. Frankly, you were at your wits’ end. Finally, Tom had acknowledged you, held you, been so gentle and kind to you for more than a few moments only to brush it all aside, only for some stupid dare to ruin it. And now? Now you had to stand around in a broom closet for seven minutes of awkward silence with the boy you’d had it bad for since first year. You’d had too much to drink, you were tired, and before you knew it, you were crying.

“Hey. Hey,” Tom’s voice cut through the silence. He waved his wand and light streamed from it, finally illuminating the room. You covered your face in embarrassment – you couldn’t believe you were crying in front of one of the most notoriously intimidating people at Hogwarts, let alone someone you fancied, and whose opinion you cared deeply about. But you felt his hands wrap around your wrists and slowly, gently, he removed your hands from your face. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m…really tired,” you managed to get out with a sniffle, figuring that was the easiest way to explain it.

“Hey,” he murmured wiping your tears with his thumb as he looked down at you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Don’t let them get to you. They can’t actually tell us what to do, you know. We can leave if we want. Do you want to leave?” You shook your head.

“I’m just frustrated,” you responded softly. “They can be really nosy sometimes.”

“They should trust you,” he said, letting his hands fall to your shoulders. “I’m sure you have your reasons for the things you don’t want to tell them.”

“I do.” You let your head fall against his chest, then paused, recalling an old conversation with Mattheo. “Does that…bother you? Matty told me that you aren’t always the most…touchy person.” A soft chuckle resonated through the broom closet as he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair gently.

“That doesn’t apply to you.” His raspy voice was hushed, almost a whisper, but you heard it clearly. You felt your heart beat faster. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”

After a pause, you opened your mouth again, your voice almost a whisper.

“I wasn’t drunk enough to go falling off the couch, you know.”

“I know.”

You looked up at him, his eyes as enthralling as ever, so dark in the dim light that they looked like the glow of the Black Lake. Daring to explore, you reached your hand up and gently brushed the side of his face, your palm tingling as you laid it to rest at the base of his neck, your fingers twining in his curls.

“But you didn’t even want to do this…” you trailed off softly, your insecurity showing its face. His expression hardened.

“I didn’t want to go into a closet with you for some dare,” he said firmly. “I want you. Salazar, I always have.” Your heart raced, and you hardly dared to believe what you were hearing. “But if we’re going to do this, I won’t go back. It can’t be for a stupid dare.”

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you,” you confessed. “No matter how hard I try not to, Tom.”

“Who’s this idiot you fancy then?” Tom murmured, his intense stare utterly intoxicating as his hands moved to your waist and his thumb traced your hip, the edge of his ring pressing into the bone. “I want to make you forget he ever existed.” You giggled softly at the irony, glancing down at the floor and in response, he took your jaw in his hand and brought your eyes back to his. Your stomach flipped eagerly as you felt his strong grip and you wondered how in the world someone could feel so much like danger and safety at the same time. “Will you let me make you forget him?”

“That would be difficult, considering that I’m currently in a broom closet with him,” you replied, a mischievous smile pulling at your lips. Desire danced behind his eyes as they stared back into yours. He released your jaw and moved his hand to the back of your neck, his other one coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Well then,” he whispered teasingly, a smirk growing on his face. “I suppose we still have six minutes or so.”

The second his lips connected with yours, you were addicted.

You’d fantasized about Tom Riddle kissing you a million times and yet, nothing could compare to the real thing. He tasted like Firewhiskey and sharp mint and the fierceness of the kiss, of the way he held you in his arms, made your heart race. His hands roamed across your body, exploring your skin, as his tongue parted your lips, making you whimper softly. He let out a moan, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your thighs as his other hand wrapped around the side of your neck possessively.

“Tom…” His name escaped your lips as his touches grew more intense with need.

Your noises of pleasure seemed to fuel him, and he moved forward until your back collided with the shelves behind you. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him as his lips continued to work against yours. You whined in disappointment when he broke the kiss, but it quickly became a moan of pleasure as his lips moved to your neck, making your whole body tingle with desire.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned breathily, staring into your eyes. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered as he sucked on your neck, giving you the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. “All yours.”

Six minutes later, you were breathing heavily and your neck was covered in hickeys when a knock at the door snapped you back to reality.

“Uh, guys? You can come out now,” echoed the hesitant voice of Enzo Berkshire.

“Yeah, we’re sorry about the dare,” Pansy called. “It was a really stupid joke.”

“Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll go away,” you whispered, and Tom, appearing as though he hadn’t even heard the disturbance, continued to kiss and suck at your neck and collarbones, determined to further mark you as his.

“OH, EW!”

The two of you looked up to see the door open, Mattheo staring at the scene in front of him in horror.

“You guys literally dared us to!” you immediately protested as Tom turned around to glare at his brother. You snatched the nearest item – broom polish – off the shelves and hurled it in the general direction of your best friend.

“I didn’t object, that’s different than being the one who issued the dare,” Mattheo complained as the broom polish container smashed on the floor behind him. You struggled to straighten yourself out before the rest of your friends saw you. Smoothing your hair, you stepped out of the broom closet and back into the common room. “I didn’t know you were going to – that’s my best mate, bro!”

“You introduced me to her,” Tom replied evenly, a smirk dancing on his lips. “From my angle, you only have yourself to blame.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist possessively as the two of you moved back towards your friends, retaking your seats. If they’d been shocked when they saw you laying your head on his shoulder before, it was nothing compared to now. Pansy was openly gaping at the hickies on your neck, the room completely silent.

“Yes!” Daphne exclaimed, finally breaking the tension. “I knew it! Pans, you owe me five galleons and a trip to Gladrags tomorrow.”

“What?” Enzo exclaimed in confusion, just as you cried, “you two were betting on us?”

“Just about whether you two would get together before or after Christmas,” Pansy clarified. “We both knew you would figure it out eventually.”

“I had a little more faith,” Daphne added smugly.

“Wait,” Enzo stuttered. “I’m confused. So is he…?” he trailed off, pointing at Tom.

“The mystery Slytherin? Yes,” you admitted, blushing slightly. Tom pulled you in closer and you draped both of your legs over his thigh.

“Ohhhh! That makes so much sense,” Draco blurted suddenly, making you laugh.

“And they knew?” Mattheo exclaimed, looking back and forth between Pansy and Daphne like he’d been kicked.

“I’m so sorry, Matty,” you said sincerely. “They figured it out themselves at the beginning of the year. I wanted to tell you, I really did, it was just harder…”

“…because he’s my brother,” Mattheo finished. “I get it.”

“I wanted to tell all of you, I really did,” you assured your friends. “I just wasn’t ready to tell Matty yet, and then he showed up,” you continued with a laugh, gesturing at Tom, “and there was no way I was about to drop that on him in a middle of late-night Truth or Dare.”

“Uh, yeah,” Enzo nodded, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I messed up big time.”

“It’s okay, Enz, I forgive you,” you replied gently. “It was just the weirdest circumstances ever.”

“Guess who didn’t mess up big time, though?” Blaise cut in, grinning as he pointed to himself. “Blaise Zabini, matchmaker extraordinaire!” Daphne promptly swatted him in the back of the head with a pamphlet for the Gobstones team that sat on a nearby end table.

“This did not happen because of you, but in spite of you locking us in a closet for nearly ten minutes,” Tom remarked, glaring at Blaise through narrowed eyes.

“Hey, clearly you made it work,” Blaise retorted, gesturing at your hickies as you stuck out your tongue at him. “Put that tongue back in your mouth, I’m not Riddle.”

“If you’re such a matchmaker, why can’t you matchmake yourself?” Pansy joked, gesturing between Blaise and Daphne. He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed as Daphne flushed.

You relaxed against Tom’s chest as your friends continued to talk and joke. The conversation became progressively more unfollowable as you all finished the last of the liquor, maintaining your tipsy state. Once the bottles were empty, Mattheo Vanished them with ease.

“How is it that you got a T on your Transfiguration OWL, but you can always manage it to get yourself out of trouble?” Tom groaned at his brother, leaning his forehead into his hand in frustration.

“Because I’ve got my priorities straight,” Mattheo replied with a smirk. “We could talk about your indiscretions too, you know.”

“You mean hexing that cheating Ravenclaw bloke?” Tom asked. You glanced up at him in surprise, watching his eyes grow dark for a moment before his face softened as his gaze met yours. “I’d do it again,” he said, turning back to his brother.

“Yuck,” Mattheo retorted, scrunching up his face in disgust. “Thanks for finally showing an emotion, you can go back to the way you were now.”

“Matty!” you protested jokingly, pouting at him. “Don’t you want your brother to be sweet to me?” He grinned.

“Of course I do,” he responded with a chuckle. “Although, quite frankly, I don’t know what you see in him.” Tom frowned. “I just hope he knows that if he ever hurts you, he’s going to get the same beating I was about to give that Ravenclaw.”

“I’m quaking,” Tom retorted dryly. “And unlike some of us, I have no interest in maintaining a list of romantic casualties.” He paused for a moment, his attention occupied as he gently played with the ends of your hair before turning back to Mattheo. “Speaking of which, I hear yours are in such numbers that they’re considering forming a school club for themselves.” Mattheo laughed good-naturedly before making a face.

Your friends talked for a few more minutes, the sentences growing progressively more incoherent as everyone struggled to resist the call of sleep. They began to splinter off, wandering back to the dormitories, as your own eyes fluttered shut. You felt totally at peace until Tom gently shook you awake.

“I’ll just sleep here,” you mumbled and you heard him chuckle as he kissed your forehead.

“No, you’ve got to go sleep in your bed,” he corrected bemusedly. “I’ll tell you what. If you go sleep in your bed for me, I’ll take you out wherever you want in Hogsmeade tomorrow, how does that sound?” Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up quickly. An actual date with the guy of your dreams. He watched you, a grin emerging on his face, as you nodded eagerly.

You barely managed to stay awake for long enough to climb into bed, but as you did, you felt your chest fill with warmth, your mind flashing back to the feeling of Tom’s lips on yours as you closed your eyes. It had been a long, confusing road to get here, but it was so worth it in the end.

He was the one for you.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader insert #slytherin boys #slytherin #ooc tom riddle #slytherin x reader #tom riddle fic #hogwarts #mattheo riddle #theodore nott #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #daphne greengrass

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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months

Text

bsfd!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Having a thing for your best friend's dad was your dirty little secret. Up until it wasn't so secret anymore.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: fictional age gap relationship (20f, 40m), drunk!reader, tipsy!James (no drunk sex though bc we love consent), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), penetration, swearing, corruption kink, sexual themes, nipple play, praise

Your small trunk bumps into your knees as you stand in front of the familiar, decent sized, house in the center of Godric's Hollow. An early summer breeze messes up your hair and the humidity prickles at your skin, suddenly making you feel uncomfortable in your woolen jumper.

Inside the house, music plays and you can see silhouettes dancing around. The smell of Ginny Weasley's famous plum muffins swirl around you from outside the door and your stomach reminds you just how little you'd eaten in the train. Quickly, you lift your trunk with one hand and use your other hand to knock.

You hear muffled sounds from inside and then you see Harry Potter's rosy cheeks perk up in a wide smile as he holds the front door open, "Y/n!" He says happily. Harry's dark hair is a mess as a lopsided birthday hat that says Birthday Boy pushes some of his hair away from his face. Harry looks slightly ridiculous, but he's definitely too drunk to care, "Come in, come in." He insists.

Inside, the music is louder and the house is incredibly crowded with a bunch of drunk adults. When Harry invited you to his twenty-first birthday, you had expected something special — especially since, from Harry's stories, Mr. Potter and his friends had a tendency to throw extravagant parties among themselves — but you never imagined a full on muggle-inspired rager.

You can smell beer mixed with some wizard-alcohol Ron had once smuggled into your Gryffindor dorms in your sixth year and you sniffle. "You look nice," Harry compliments and moves your trunk into a corner.

You smile faintly, subconsciously running your palms over your jumper. You look down at your plain white, worn out, sneakers you've had since your Hogwarts years and the boring little jean skirt you'd thrown on because you haven't done laundry in a week. You feel underdressed but mumble a thank you anyway.

Harry doesn't seem to think you're underdressed because he ushers you inside his living room. You pass by countless classmates you haven't seen in a few years and almost all of them are drunk. Some holler your name and grin, while others don't look like they remember you.

When you see Ron and Hermione dancing in the center of the room, you and Harry quickly join them. As you dance, you don't exactly keep track of time as drinks seem to find their way into your hand. You just dance and drink until your mind is fuzzy and you have the sudden urge to use the bathroom.

Honestly, you didn't think you were that drunk. Or at least not until you couldn't seem to find the bathroom in a house you'd been a guest in more times than you could count.

You stumble, hand coming to balance yourself as your foot hooks into the other. You hear someone call your name, a voice you don't initially recognize, and suddenly you feel someone slide your arm around their shoulder, their other arm holding you up from around your waist.

"Hey there, watch your step." The person says softly and you look at them. You think it's Harry at first. It's the same hair and almost the same smile, but the more you focus you can tell it isn't Harry at all.

This man is older — not that you could really tell if you didn't recognize him — and your breath hitches as you quickly pull away,

"Mr Potter!" You exclaim a little loudly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I- I was looking for the loo."

You watch a smirk curl his lips as he stands a little straighter. His dark hair looks a little messy in the best way and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. You start to question if it's the alcohol you drank, or if Mr Potter just looks extra handsome this evening.

"Well the bathroom's in the opposite direction, love." He chuckles, "And James is just fine. Mr. Potter makes me feel old."

You hide a laugh behind your palm, knowing it really wasn't that funny, and resist touching your cheeks to check if they're as warm as they suddenly feel.

You hear another happy holler and James looks back at the party. His hands run in his curls and he frowns, "Is it just me or have I let this party spiral a little out of control?" He asks you.

You sway on your feet and try to concentrate on James's question and not his lips or how blurry the hallway walls have turned around him. You faintly see James pinch his nose and mutter to himself, "Bloody idiot," as his hand gently skims your arm and you inhale, surprised by the warmth.

You look at him and lose your balance again, this time stumbling into his chest. His hand rests on your waist to steady you. Suddenly, you hear an obnoxious whistle from behind you and you and James look toward the sound.

You see a boy around your age send you a wink as you sway on your feet, and then he raises his glass at James in some kind of sleazy congratulations. You squint. There's no way this guy knows who James is, because if he did he certainly wouldn't have implied what he was clearly implying.

James doesn't respond in any way (if you don't count the tensing of his hands as it moves around your back) and instead he turns around and holds under your arm too. Gently, he helps you walk away from the chaos that is now the party, "Mr Potter, I really need to use the bathroom." You insist.

He looks at you sweetly, "I know, darling, but you can use mine."

You feel your heart jump and you don't answer. Your stomach feels as fuzzy as your head and you stare at James, admiring his features. Then, you look around. You're in a new hallway, one you've never been in. The walls are darker and the wooden floor squeaks under your sneakers.

Suddenly, you hear a door open and a light turns on. You blink and see a small room which consists of one queen bed, one desk, and one armoire. Old and new books are scattered around the room and the navy curtains are drawn shut. In the corner is a smaller door and you pray it's the bathroom.

"In there," James whispers as his hands disappear from your body.

Instantly, you rush inside and as quickly as you went in, you're out again. James, who was finding a shirt from inside his drawer, turns around. "Already?" He asks, slightly amused. You blush and nod hesitantly.

You hear him laugh and the sound sends electric shocks into your heart. What is happening to you?

James makes his way to you and hands you a shirt. Your fingers skim his as you take it in your hand and you look at him, confused.

"I want you to sleep here tonight. With me." Your chest tightens and your eyes round. James's own cheeks dust pink as he rubs his nape, "I just want to make sure you're okay, Y/n. You're drunk and someone could take advantage of you. I want to know you're safe."

James clenches his jaw as a little voice in his head screams at him, "Are you sure that someone won't be you?" He tenses. He'd never hurt you. You're too innocent, too kind, for him to ruin. James hates himself for even thinking of what you're hiding behind your jumper, or admiring how supple your thighs look under your skirt, and he hates himself even worse for imagining the taste of your lips.

"Oh," You say and your thumb runs over James's shirt, "Okay."

James stands straighter as he watches you disappear into his bathroom again to change and if he's honest, he looks longer than he should have.

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face — he needs to end this goddamn party somehow, and holy fuck how is he supposed to explain where you went to his son?

* * *

When you open your eyes, your mind is still a little fuzzy and your throat is extremely dry. You sit up, hands running over the sheets, and you squint as you try to adjust to the darkness and your new surroundings.

You can remember Harry, the party, drinking, and James. You see him. He's sleeping curled up on a chair near his bed.

Quickly, you pull the covers away from your body and stand. Your eyes widen when you realize you're only wearing your panties and one of James's white chemises. What the hell have you done? You wince. Hesitantly, you make your way to where James is and shake him,

As soon as you see him wake up, your word vomit begins, "Mr Potter, I'm so sorry if I was a nuisance yesterday evening. I barely remember what happened. I was so drunk," James sits up. He smiles and opens his mouth to answer but you continue, "I- We didn't do anything, did we, Mr Potter? Because if I said or did something last night, I honestly didn't mean it. It was only ever a silly crush," You whisper, cheeks burning as you subconsciously pull his shirt lower and over your exposed thighs.

You can see James's eyes darken as he listens to every word you say. The moonlight shines onto him, almost making his skin glisten, and you suddenly feel small. "A crush, huh?" James smirks, standing up slowly. Your eyes move from his and then to his chest. It just now hits you that he's shirtless.

You tilt your head to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"When did this crush start?" He asks and leans in. His knuckles brush your cheek and automatically you close your eyes. You wonder how he can feel so close and still so far.

"Last year." You say breathlessly

"And when did it end, love?" James mumbles. His lips are now almost pressed to your ear as his hands caress down your arms. You feel disoriented as you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

"I-It didn't," You admit, making a small breathy sound when James's lips finally connect with your cheek. You feel him smirk and then, slowly, his mouth proceeds down your neck as he gently sprinkles kisses onto your skin. You chew on your lip to suppress a moan as his hands find your hips and pulls you in until you're pressed up against him.

"Is this okay?" James whispers and you nod. "Shit, you don't know what you've done to me this past year, Y/n." He continues and your heart pounds, "Do you even know how many times I've thought of you? The fucking things I imagined?"

You feel him kiss up your jaw, "Filthy things, love. Things I shouldn't have been thinking about my son's best friend. But, Merlin, look at you. You're bloody stunning now." James's voice is low but every time you hear him, that tightness in your stomach worsens.

"Mr Potter," You whimper and run your hand over his cheek. Your eyes flutter and you look at him needily, "Kiss me."

James looks at you intensely for a moment until he smiles and graciously listens as his lips press against yours. Delicately in the beginning — almost as if you're too sacred to him and he wants to savor this moment. But then, when he feels your hands on his chest, he deepens the kiss and his tongue pushes past your lips. You shut your eyes again. hands finding his hair as you kiss him desperately.

You never imagined you'd admit this, but you'd dreamt of this moment countless times in the middle of the night. Still, even in your wildest fantasies, nothing could compare to the real thing.

James pulls away a moment, hands holding your cheeks as he admires your face. You look flustered as you breathe heavily, hair a mess and lips bruised. He smirks and looks at your thighs. You hadn't even realized you'd been rubbing them together to dull the ache, "Fuck," James mutters to himself as he kisses you again.

You whine into his lips, the pressure in your core becoming harder to ignore. You want him, you want him so badly it hurts.

Quickly, you slide your hand down over his pants and you can feel just how badly he wants you too. "Shit," James breathes, gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away. You look up at him, so innocent, and he curses himself, "Y/n, don't start something you can't finish." He warns.

"Who says I can't finish it?" You argue instantly and lean up to capture his lips again.

James chuckles but accepts your kiss anyway. He's going to hell for this, he thinks as your hands wander around his body. He shuts his eyes and sucks on your neck until you let out a small moan.

Fuck, he should want to protect you from the things he wants to do to you.

When he pulls away, his eyes have darkened even more and you can feel a confusing tonal shift. Maybe you couldn't finish this, you start to doubt as you look at him expectantly. You chew on your lip. Maybe this had been a huge mistake and maybe James thinks so too.

"If we continue, we can't go back to normal." James states and you tense.

"I know."

"Y/n, I can pretend this never happened. No strings, no awkwardness, I promise. You just have to say the words." He says, completely serious.

James is no longer touching you and you realize you miss him. You're in way over your head but somehow, you feel completely safe. You don't feel like you're making the wrong decision when you stay silent.

James's eyes sparkle but he runs a hand in his hair and looks away, "Bloody hell." He curses and you smile. He presses his hand to your cheek and then tilts your chin up, "This is insane."

"Just fuck me already," You laugh, "I know you want to."

Once the words leave your mouth, he kisses you hungrily. You lose your balance and fall onto the bed behind you, head hitting the bunched up blankets. You giggle when James hovers over you. "You're a little tease, you know that?" He chastises, his lips exploring your neck once more.

Honestly, you'd be insulted by his comment if you hadn't spent the last year trying to catch his attention whenever you had the chance.

"And you're a dirty perv for lusting after me." You respond slyly. James hesitates a moment but continues to kiss you anyway. When he leans on his arms and looks at you, you can see he looks a little embarrassed. "Don't worry, it turns me on." You smirk.

James shakes his head, "You're quite naughty, huh?" He asks and you nod. When you feel his hand travel down your stomach and lift his shirt to reveal your underwear you feel like you could almost orgasm right there. Instead, you bite your cheek and resist rubbing your thighs.

When James touches you over your panties, you let out a small gasp. As he slides his hand inside them, he leans on his side and uses his other hand to cover your mouth gently, "Don't wake everyone up with your noises, love." He looks at you and smiles as his finger runs up your pussy teasingly, "Just let me make you feel good."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut. No one has ever made you feel this good already. Sure, you'd had boyfriends over the course of your seven years at school but you realized none of them could compare to him.

"Has anyone ever touched you like I am?" James sounds cocky as he almost reads your mind. When he speaks, his middle finger suddenly curls into you and you arch a little as your eyes widen from the unusual, foreign, feeling.

"I- no. Not as good as you, Mr Potter." You admit, squirming under his touch.

"Good." James leans into the crook of your neck and kisses your cheek. His hand moves just a little harder now – just enough to bring you close, but not make you come – and your breath has become harsher, "And didn't I ask you to call me James." He frowns playfully.

Your hand comes down to grip his wrist, "Please, James." You whine.

"Hmm?"

He wants you to beg. Your entire body feels like it's vibrating.

"Please." You whisper again and his pace quickens even more.

"You're such a good fucking girl." James compliment, kissing the skin near your ear and gently removes his fingers from inside of you. He slides your panties down your legs, leaving your pussy exposed. You barely have time to protest his lack of touch because he's climbing over you.

You shouldn't stare at his chest but you do anyway. Your lower stomach tightens.

James leans down and unbuttons his shirt, the one you have on, until he manages to pull it down your shoulders and away from you. You're completely naked now and, clearly unapologetic, James looks at your breasts and places his lips around your nipples. You gasp, hands wrapping around his — surprisingly muscular — back. You feel faint as the only thing you can focus on is James's mouth as he explores and kisses all over your breasts and collarbone.

"This is sick," James mumbles but continues to kiss you anyway.

You smile and suddenly flip around so you're sitting on his lap, "I want to ride you." You state, eyes twinkling.

James looks wind blown as his hair splays across the pillow and his hands grip your hips. He looks flustered as you feel his boner press against your thigh.

You fumble with his boxers, pulling them down and holding his dick in your hand. He hisses, eyes shutting from how sensitive he is. You smirk and swipe your thumb over his tip until he moans louder.

"Tease." He grits, hands digging into your hips, "In the drawer." He says.

You understand and reach over, opening the drawer and taking out one of James's condoms. Him and Lily have been divorced for years and jealousy stings your chest thinking who he uses them for now.

James takes the condom from your hand, carefully rips it with his teeth, and then puts it on expertly, “You do this often?” You ask, hiding how jealous you are behind a small smile.

"Sometimes," He answers nonchalantly, “But none have been as sweet as you are, love.”

You feel him press against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut. He feels much bigger than anyone you're been with in the past and you bite your lower lip, "Are you okay? We can stop whenever you want, Y/n." James promises, seeing your nervous expression.

You rest your palms on his chest and pull yourself up until you can slowly reach under and guide him into you. "I want this." You whisper.

James curses as his dick disappears into you. You let out a small squeal as he does and he covers your mouth with his hand as you adjust to him.

You nod when you can finally start to move and James settles back into the pillows. You start to bounce and every time you bury his cock back inside you, you whimper with pleasure.

James watches your breasts bounce with you and he feels hot. He's enjoying this way too much. You look beautiful, naked and jumping on his cock like a starved bunny. You're so fucking cock drunk already.

"How does it feel, sweetheart?" He asks cockily and helps guide your hips.

You can barely form words, "I-t I- I f-eel," You moan, hands clutching James's shoulders now as you continue to fuck him, "James!" You groan his name and he bucks his hips.

You feel so goddamn tight around him.

James enjoys you riding him — losing yourself in the pleasure you get from him — but as time passes, your bounces falter and you start to pant. James senses your thighs quiver and he isn't surprised when you tell him, "I'm close."

Your head suddenly hits the pillow as you're spun around and you shut your eyes. You arch your back as James presses himself into you, missionary style, and you wrap your arms around him again,

"Filthy fucking girl." He whispers near your ear as you spread your legs wider to allow him to fuck you easier and harder.

Your eyes roll back as James's hips snap into yours and your nails run down his back. He groans but continues to pound into you.

"You're doing so well," He encourages between ragged breaths, "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nod and he smirks.

"Then go ahead." James says, knowing he can't last much longer either. You explode and you feel warm all over as he continues to fuck you even after you've reached your high.

You tap his back, recovering, "I want to suck your cock. You can finish in my mouth." You whimper.

James moans just hearing the words and pulls out. He pulls off the condom and leans off the bed for a moment so he can throw it into the trash near his desk. You shift your bodies so you can put yourself between his legs and you immediately lick his tip.

You feel him twitch in your hand as you take him into your mouth. James looks at you, one of his hands gripping your hair as you choke on his dick. He's so goddamn close. All it takes is you glancing up at him with your beautiful eyes and running your tongue along his length for him to curse and come into your mouth.

You swallow and James loses his mind all over again. You look completely fucked out now as your eyes flutter and your chest heaves. His heart thumps in his chest,

His hand curls around your neck as he leans in to press a kiss against your forehead. You sit with your legs sprawled behind you, arms clenched between your knees, completely bare in front of him, and you shiver at his touch.

When he stands, you almost call out his name. You don't know what you're so afraid of, maybe you're scared he'll leave you.

"Here." He climbs back into the bed with his boxers on and he guides your arms into his shirt and starts to button it up, "You did so well. Made me feel so good, yeah?"

He takes your cheeks in his hands and you look at him. He feels slightly guilty for the distant look in your eyes, "Are you okay?"

You squirm a little, "I'm a little sore already. You-You're bigger than anyone else I've been with.” You admit.

James looks cocky and he traces circles on your thigh, "How can I make you feel better, darling?" He sees you look away bashfully and play with the buttons of his shirt, "Want me to kiss it better?" He teases.

You feel aroused again and bite your lip, nodding.

James sits on his heels and moves you so you're sitting against the headboard, your legs spread. His shirt rides up your thigh, exposing your pussy, and his dick twitches in his pants. Fuck, he's an evil evil man.

You watch him, breathing harshly, as you wait with anticipation. No one has ever eaten you out before. Your first boyfriend had expressed his disgust and you had never asked anyone again.

James takes your leg in his hands. He starts to kiss your calf muscle and then moves upwards to your inner thigh. You clutch the sheets as he kisses your skin gently.

"Relax, sweet girl." He whispers when you squirm. James is now laying in between your legs and he presses a kiss just above your pussy, his hands hooking under your thighs to push them open even wider.

You moan when he finally licks up your slit. It feels strange at first and your instinct is to move away from it. When he feels you jump, James looks up at you, "Do you want me to stop?" He asks gently.

You shake your head furiously. James smirks and presses another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he licks and sucks on your skin a little bit before he finds your pussy again and attaches his mouth to your clit.

You gasp and your hands bury themselves in James's hair. You moan his name.

James continues to suck on your clit, occasionally gently thrusting the tip of his tongue into you and you see stars.

"How are you feeling?” James asks in between kisses to your clit. He's not asking to tease this time, but to genuinely make sure he's pleasing you.

"A-amazing — ah!" You cry when he sucks a little harder and you buck your hips into his mouth.

James makes a little sound when you instinctively close your thighs around his head. He uses one of his hands to pull one of your thighs open, and the other follows, "Gotta Keep 'em open, my love." He says and you nod, your eyes squeezing shut.

You feel like you're floating as James continues. It doesn't take long until you come for the second time, collapsing onto the bed with harsh breaths.

James kisses your thigh one last time and gently closes them. He licks his lips and scoops you into his arms as holds you to his bare chest, "You did so well. My good girl."He kisses your cheek and you smile.

"What do you need, love?" He asks once you wiggle from his arms and adjust your hair. You must look completely disheveled.

"Um? Water?" You whisper, unsure.

James is up on his feet instantly as he fetches you some water from the sink in his bathroom. When he returns you're sitting up on his bed and the morning light from the window shines onto your face. James hands you the glass.

"Thank you." You say softly and take a sip.

"How was it?" James finds himself asking and he curses himself in his head. James hasn't really asked anyone how sex was since Lily, but for some reason he burns for your approval. He sounds like a hopeless teenager.

"I loved every second." You reply honestly. "You're the first person who's ever given me head too."

"Really?" He sits next to you and places your glass on his bedside table when you hand it to him.

"Yeah. My ex found it gross."

"Well, he’s a bloody idiot." James says, completely serious, and you laugh. You look at him and James wishes he could hear your laughter all the time.

"James?"

He almost blushes at his name, "Hmm?"

"What does this mean?" You ask, pointing between you and him.

James wants to tell you he likes you. He wants to ask you out to dinner, somewhere fancy where he can spoil you exactly like you deserve, but he doesn't want to sound creepy.

Plus, there is Harry to think of. His son, who will be worried sick if you come out of his father's room looking like you do now.

"I don't know." James admits quietly.

You see his expression and your heart clenches. You want him, you want nothing more than for him to be yours. But you know he can't, not when Harry is your best friend. You don't want to hurt your best friend.

Still, you don't want to shut the door completely, "Can we find out as we go?" You ask timidly, implying that — at least — you want to have him intimately again.

James grins. He has never ever been happier to hear those words.

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shadowtriovibes · 9 months

Text

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

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Always little wolf

Fred Weasley x wolfstars daughter! reader

Summary: While y/n and Fred walk home in the snow, the simplest conversation makes Fred sure of one thing, he's going to marry that girl

Warnings: established relationship, kinda luna lovegood type reader, reader loves random facts, kissing, so much fluff, one proofread

A/n: 0.7k words, day 4 we have another fluffy little blurb with freddie and wolfstars adopted daughter, enjoy xx

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

“Did you know…”

Fred’s already chuckling, the sight of you trying to get on your big fluffy coat whilst tipsy was cute enough, but combine it with an excited random fact? You have his heart melting like crazy. He was used to your random trivia but never grew tired of it, he loved it in fact, especially as it hardly ever related to anything you were doing.

Like when he first met you, you had tagged along with Harry and his dad, your godfather, James, to the quidditch world cup, instead of a 'did you know this about quidditch fact' whilst you walked up the stands with him him, he got a 'did you know otters hold hands while sleeping so they don’t float away from one another?'

It was safe to say he had been at your mercy ever since

"...that...one second...that s-"

“Here…” he gently interrupts your fact before you can start, helping you get your hand through the sleeve “...good girl” he pecks your forehead, adoring the the grin he receives as you cheese up at him, eyes glassy, clearly only half here but the love in your eyes shines through

After one last shout goodbye to those at the party you and Fred brave the cold, his hand finding yours before guiding into his larger pocket to keep it warm

“It’s snowing” you note, free hand coming to wrap around his bicep, as your cheek presses into it

“It is...almost as pretty as you my love” he flirts, adoring your giggle before you let out a little yip, head shooting up to look at him as you move away slightly to smile up at him “What?”

“I forgot to tell you the fact” you say softly and his heart warms, secretly glad you remembered

“Hit me” he flashes you a goofy grin, unable to hold it back as he wraps his arm around you and leads you down the now snow dusted path

“Did you know that Scotland's national animal is a unicorn because there was this wizard whose pet unicorn followed him into a muggle battle?” you say, a little slurred and in a higher pitched tone, the same one you always used when saying your little facts

Fred chuckles, pulling you a little closer into his side “Seriously?”

“Siriusly” you start giggling

“See this is the stuff Binns should have taught us…” Fred shakes his head “...actually you know what lovely? You should try and poach his job” he presses a kiss to your hat clad temple

“Nah” you shake your head

“Why not? You love facts, adorable at telling them, cute as a button so all the guys and gals will crush on you, be closer to your dads and uncle” he lists with a shrug, genuinely surprised you wouldn’t be interested

You stop walking, gently removing yourself from Fred's grip and taking his hands in yours instead. His eyebrows pinch but his face soon softens into a smile as he sees you shining up at him

“Because then I wouldn’t see my favourite person everyday...” you answer simply, easily, almost like it should have been obvious but the next bit floors him "...and when I find out a new fact I can't tell anyone else until i've told you, I always tell you first"

He always felt it in his heart that he was going to marry you one day, but this was the moment he knew for sure...so much that in less than a weeks time you would be saying that three letter word to make it a reality

“Merlin I love you...” the words tumble out breathlessly in the same manor as yours "...so much...so...so much" he emphasises squeezing your hands

Your smile widens at that, a giggle escaping as you step forward, chests grazing “Ditto” you shine, placing a sweet kiss to his nose

He doesn’t let you pull away fully, instead dips down to capture your lips, hands slipping out of yours to cup your chilled cheeks while the snow lightens around you for a moment, large flakes fluttering down slowly like you were in some movie. The cold forgotten for a moment as your warm lips dance with one another, your hands gliding up to find his chest, not caring that it made your fingertips go numb

Your lips still ghost the others as you break away, your cheeks rising with your smile in his light grip as you whisper “Did you know if you remind yourself you aren’t a fish your hiccups will stop?”

“You're pulling my leg” he whispers back

“Wanna bet Weasley?” you say letting your lips meet again tentatively

“With you? Always little wolf”

Thank you for reading ♡

#fred weasley and reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley and y/n #fred weasley and you #fred weasley #fred and reader #fred x reader #fred x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley blurb #wolfstar daughter #wolfstar x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #robbiesadventcalendar

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 7 months

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Sirius Black Appreciation Post

Time to celebrate Sirius Black's birthday by highlighting my favorite canon facts 🥳

Sirius is tall. We're talking at least 6'.

He's intelligent AF. He became an Animagus at 15. He charmed a Muggle motorbike to fly (Arthur couldn't do that with a car, Sirius did it in his late teens, latest at age 20). He escaped from Azkaban. He got a cat to order a racing broom. My man is brilliant, no doubt about it.

Sirius has a complicated relationship with his mother and it is *not* merely hatred. Note that he did not destroy his mother's portrait, or slash it as he did with the Fat Lady's. I'm confident that he could've figured out a way to destroy it or otherwise get rid of it, but he doesn't. His refuge is in his mother's old room with Buckbeak. There's something very complicated in his relationship with his family that can't be labeled as simple loathing. Sirius may have run away from home at 15/16, but his background 100% shaped him and left its mark on his personality and psyche.

Sirius was good friends with Lily. The letter from Lily to Sirius is great proof of that - it wasn't James who wrote that letter, but LILY. Sirius was smiling and genuinely happy at Jily's wedding.

Sirius is emotionally driven, and lashes out *with good reason.* When he goes after Wormtail the night the Potters died, it's because Harry is taken away from him. He has nothing to hold him down - and even gives his motorbike to Hagrid. When he tries to get to Wormtail in PoA, he slashes the portrait but doesn't harm a single boy in his search for the rat. When he goes to the Department of Mysteries, his focus is on Harry. These are good reasons, even if it puts him in danger.

Sirius has a great sense of humor. He puts little Santa hats on the decapitated elf heads. He chases pigeons as Padfoot just to make Harry smile. He sends a good luck note with a muddy paw print. He is scathingly funny, when he derides Peter's hero worship of James in Snape's Worst Memory. He's bitter and sarcastic. We love to see it.

Sirius is a baby boomer. He was born in 1959. "Ok, boomer," is an applicable retort.

Sirius is not misogynistic. He does not hate women. He is often kinder to women than men. He helps Ginny up in OoTP. No matter how angry he gets at Molly, he is never, ever physical with her (unlike the way Sirius is with snape, who he does get physically aggressive with). He is kind to Hermione. He had a great relationship with Lily. Even in the end, his last words to Bellatrix are 'you can do better than that.'

Sirius does not have a canonical love interest.

Sirius is willing to challenge Dumbledore. This is an important point - with so many people deferring to Dumbledore's judgment, including Remus, the Weasleys, and Harry - Sirius will challenge him and his decisions. He may not get his way, but Sirius has the personal strength and confidence to challenge one of the greatest wizards of all time.

Sirius was great with animals. Crookshanks and Buckbeak are prime examples of this.

Sirius is deeply flawed: he can get very intense. He can be rash, even if he has good reasons. He can be bitter to the point of hurting others ('the risk would've made it fun for James'). He can be cruel and condescending (my robes have enough filth without you touching them/wormail will piss himself with excitement). He can be callous (wishing it was the full moon, sending Snape on a potentially deadly adventure). He's a hurricane of deep, complex emotions.

Canon Sirius would obliterate fanon Sirius.

Happy birthday, Sirius. You would've loved James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. You'd have had the time of your life at Hinny's wedding. You are an absolute king.

#sirius black #sirius orion black #happy birthday sirius #tall sirius black #the marauders #marauders era #james potter #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #harry potter

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fourmoony · 3 months

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Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking requests right now but your writing is so beautiful and genuinely so captivating!

I was hoping for a possible angst / fluff kinda fic! With Remus x reader

Starting off how the two met in school and how they became friends so fast + the rest of the group…going onto how the two began dating in their 3-4th year at school…onto when they left school into a proposal and marriage.

Then when the war begins again is when the angst slips in..maybe how Remus finds reader under some rocks or even them protecting Remus..for them both to be together at the end with their hands holding and it’s all angsty!

If this isn’t your cup of tea that totally okay! <33

Hi lovely!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

this is heavy on the angst, little on the fluff, hope that's okay!!

remus lupin x reader | masterlist - 1.9k words

from the vaults, since writing gives me the heebies rn

cw - death

Remus remembers the day he met you; your pristine, fresh pressed Hogwarts robes, and your swotty attitude, charging down the Express like a tyrant, wielding confidence he sorely lacked. You'd been on the hunt for whoever set off the stink bomb just outside the carriage you were in (it was James, showing off to Sirius, their friendship quickly and surely bonded together with the residual smoke of that foul little rock). Remus remembers you, often, that way. Always ready to take responsibility - or force it onto others, for their actions - and do what you believed to be right.

He knew in that exact moment, with the soundtrack of James and Sirius' hysterical laughter, the smell of pure, unbridled dung lingering in the air, that you were the bravest person he'd ever known, that when the sorting hat was sat atop your head mere hours later, there'd be no pause, no debate, you were Gryffindor through and through.

The only thing Remus hadn't accounted for, was that he, too would be placed in Gryffindor - with his nauseous stomach, shaking hands, and scars that made him feel small, rodent like, a glint of gold in the window that catches the eye long enough to peak interest, but amounts to nothing worthy of attention; rather, disgust.

Remus still sees a lot of that up-tight, bossy attitude in you, now. But more than anything, your bravery prevails. The war has taken a lot from you, from everyone he holds dearest. The first time, it was hard. Bearable, because James and Lily were alive, because Sirius wasn't locked up and losing his mind in Azkaban. There was hope, because they had Harry, and nothing was going to happen to any of them because everyone had to live to see Harry grow up.

Fools. The lot of them had been fools, he realises. This time, it's different, harder. There are no friends, no family left. It's you, and it's Remus. It breaks Remus' old, cobwebbed heart to see everything that has been taken from you both. The innocence, the joy. All that's left of you, these days, is bravery. Bravery that shines so bright, like a leading light, bravery that holds him together on the bad days, bravery that pulls sad, scared Remus out of his cocoon of dread and fear, forces him into the light. You've always been good at that - at love, at protecting the people whom you love.

It's what you do. They hadn't known it at the time - and really, how could they have? - but James and Sirius set off a stink bomb outside the carriage of a young muggle-born girl, terrified of her new school, her future, what this change would do to her. The stink bomb went off and Mary MacDonald had dissolved into hysterical tears. From the moment you came into Remus' life, you've been a protector. Your heart is your leading light, your entire being, a soul so pure it'd make angels weep.

He shouldn't be surprised. Really. The minute it the south wall of the castle blows up, Remus should know the lengths you'll go to. The things you will do to make sure the people you love are safe.

There's dust and rubble everywhere, clouding his vision, choking him until he can't breathe, and in the minute before the wall crumbles around you, your body taking ninety percent of the blast, hands fast in pushing Remus so hard he has no choice but to stumble back, away, in a daze, he sees your eyes. They're calm. So calm it's unnerving. He knows everything that people will say you never got the chance to tell him. He's known since he was sixteen everything you feel for him, the love, the gratitude, the admiration.

You've had a life together. Not all of it has been good - war and death, losses and pain so unimaginable Remus wonders how either of you ever got through it. But the quiet moments, the happy moments, not marred by battle, or grave stones, weeping, or bone crushing sorrow. The moments where all that mattered was both of you, the love, the happiness; the joy Remus felt with you is nothing he ever thought he'd get to experience, would ever deserve.

He knows. He knows you love him, he knows you're okay with the choice you've just made. But he's surprised.

In all the years you've spent together - all the funerals you've attended together, planned together - he always thought that when the time came, you'd both go together. Asleep, old and decrepit. Something peaceful, after the life you'd shared.

But the blood is still thrumming in his veins, the cogs in his brains till whirring as he stares at the pile of rubble that's fallen around you. He thinks, rather foolishly, and only for a second, that you may have survived. He thinks your sheer will and determination could still be pulsing in your heart, the bravery you wear so honestly wrapped around you like a coat of armour. But the bond that ties you to him, the mating bond, the marriage bond - Remus has never known which is which, it's all an overwhelming amount of love, to him - pulls taught. It snaps, like wisps of smoke between you, and Remus breaks with it.

He breaks so fast and so hard that the world crumbles around him and he loses track of where he is, what he's fighting for. It comes out of nowhere, a flash of light, of bright green light and Remus is grateful to be spared of the agony, because it's barely been two minutes and he had already felt like he was dying, anyway. The pain is nothing, in comparison to losing you, to live in a world without your laugh, your smile, your hard-headed attitude. He couldn't have done it, and so he feels peace as he crumples to a heap on the ground.

Maybe a silly part of him thought that you'd be waiting at the other end. In a way, you are. But, also, you're not. Because he's watching you as you charge down the Astronomy Tower stairs, the fourteen-year-old version of himself hot on your heels. He remembers this like it was yesterday. He'd kept his secret from you so well until that year, when the growth spurt started and the wolf got bigger and the scars ran deeper, in more noticeable places. The one that ran across his face.

You'd been horrified, he remembers. The look of unbridled fury as you demanded to know who on earth had done such a thing. You were never horrified of him. No. Just the mere idea that someone had hurt him, and it made Remus feel loved, protected. You made him feel loved and protected.

He watches as you reach the bottom of the steps, twirling to face him with your signature unimpressed scowl. He feels fondness like a ball of sunlight in his chest, mouthing the words 'you're a dirty liar, Remus Lupin!' along with you, the sound of your posh swotty accent ringing in his ears.

He'd went back to his dorm that night and made the decision to tell you, came up with a plan, the easiest way to break it to you. You arrived at his door two hours later, half way through his idea list, and told him you'd figured it out. He knew then that he loved you. For all you were bossy and uptight, he loved you, your impatience, your brain, your heart. Remus was in love.

You fade from his view and Remus steps forwards as though he might be able to grab you, keep you there. But the sound of your voice ringing out turns him on the spot, and you're by the black lake, picking daisies with Sirius to make daisy chains. The memories come flooding through, reliving his life through the good moments and the bad. He watches you both fight, cry, makeup. Getting together was a long, painful process, too many miscommunications, missed opportunities. You never did nail down how to express any feelings other than anger and frustration.

But the moment he had you, Remus never let go.

He watches the memories flash by, remembers every one with a heart so full it could burst. A beautiful life, is what he had. Painful, marred by coldness and death and a beast in his heart that he could never tame. But it was beautiful, and it was full of laughter and love, and joy because he had you.

There's your first kiss, heated and mid argument - because back then, Remus had to rile you up enough to snap just to get a lick of emotion from you. You were brave in many ways. Emotions were not one of them. All the milestones are there, flitting past faster than Remus would like. The end of O.W.L. exams, the party that followed, the frantic, unpracticed hands that flitted over each other's bodies in a secluded hallway that night. Summers at the Potter Estate, lounging in the meadows by the cool stream, fires and empty cans of cider, laughing until his bones hurt and his eyes shone with tears.

Your first flat, old and dingy, but you'd danced that first night in the kitchen for so long that the broken heater didn't matter. You'd made it a home.

The day Remus proposed, terrified out of his bloody mind, shaking so hard he dropped the ring box and you'd yelped as the silver banded ring went flying. He saved for years for that ring. You'd said yes, tears of joy and love and elation at spending the rest of your life with him, and spent the next hour looking for the ring in the grass with the help of Padfoot.

You walking down the aisle, a vision of pure beauty, that signature smile you reserved only for Remus, who was waiting at the end wondering what on earth he ever did to deserve you.

Snippets of a life well-spent fly past in a hurry, the blink of an eye, and Remus begins to feel melancholy. The rest of eternity as a conscious soul, reliving all of his best memories, but missing you still. He wonders if you feel the same, if you're watching the best parts of your life fly by, wishing there was more time, more words, more everything.

"We wasted so much time forgetting what life was like, then." Your voice is soft, wistful.

Remus turns and you're there, lips pressed in a thin line, looking very much like you're ready to scald him for following you this far. But Remus Lupin decided a long time ago that he'd follow you to the ends of the earth, so what is death, to that?

"I never forgot. It just got hard to get back to that, I suppose." He wants to reach out and touch you, see if you're real, or a figment of his imagination.

You hum in pensive agreement, "I was always happy with you. You know that, don't you."

How could he ever doubt it? "Down to my soul."

That smile. That mischievous, knowing, loving smile that Remus knows like the skin and bone of his body. Your hand extends to him, as real as the day he took yours in his, and promised to love you until death parted you both. Your chin jerks to the white plane ahead, Remus has no idea how far it stretches or where it goes, but he follows you, anyway, hand in yours.

"Everyone's waiting for us." You tell him.

So, Remus follows you home.

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 1 year

Text

The Perfect Hat-Trick

pairing: James Potter x reader

summary: James is watching a football match with you and has some good ideas for how to spend the half-time break. Smut ensues.

tags / warnings: NSFW (minors do not interact), established relationship, smut, fem!reader, fingering, eating out, p in v, pretty much no plot, sports talk

notes: finally had time to write! inspired by recent world cup fever...

word count: 2.3k

You lay on the sofa in yours and James’s flat, your legs draped over his, the telly on.

“That’s a foul? He hardly even touched him.” “Yeah, well, it wasn’t a clean tackle. I know the other guy’s selling it, but it did make him fall down.” “Pfft. We don’t have this problem. You dive, you plummet 50 meters to the ground,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him but laughed a little. It was nice of him to be watching with you in the first place. James loved sports, but he never really could get into your muggle ones. Too low stakes, he reckoned.

But, it was the World Cup, and he knew how excited you were, the tournament only coming around every four years. That part he could understand, having had his fair share of World Cup fever growing up, just for a much better sport, he never failed to remind you. You loved quidditch, too, of course, had even shared the pitch with him back at Hogwarts, but that had never made you stop loving what you’d love since before even finding out you were a witch.

James would watch the occasional match with you, a bit begrudgingly, but he loved making you happy. And if he was being honest, he found it adorable how excited or angry you’d get when the match did or didn’t go your way.

He was rewarded with just one of those precious moments when your team, your favorite player no less, scored a goal. It was just before half-time and his second goal of the match. You yelped and cheered, springing up from the sofa. When you came to sit back down, a love-stricken grinning James looking up at you, you opted to keep your excitement up by straddling and hugging him, still bouncing up and down a bit in celebration.

You beamed down at his close face, energetically saying, “That’s his second! And it was a header! Maybe he’ll get a perfect hat-trick!” “A what?” “A perfect hat-trick.” He continued to stare blankly at you, a jokingly annoyed look.

“Do you know what a hat-trick is?” you continued.

“I dunno… spinning it around before putting it on your head?”

“Hilarious.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry my humour isn’t up to scratch,” he laughed. His hands came around your hips, pulling you closer on his lap. “So are you gonna tell me what it is or not, sweet thing? Because, honestly, I’m fine either way.” His laugh was contagious, and you were smiling down at him, your arms around his neck as you answered, “You’re so annoying… A hat-trick is when a player scores three goals in one match. A perfect hat-trick,” you went on, “is when a player scores one with their left foot,” you kissed his left cheek, “one with their right,” kissed his right, “and one with their head,” kissed his forehead.

“Mmm, I see. Thanks for explaining it to me, sweetheart.” He bumped his nose against yours then gave it a quick peck.

“You’re welcome,” you responded giggling a bit.

You heard the whistle announcing the end of the first half from the telly behind you.

“You know,” he whispered. “I’ve always liked a challenge.” “Oh yeah?” “Mhmm. I think,” he pecked your lips, “I can score three times before the start of the second half,” he kissed you again, lingering this time. “And…” he whispered, “I reckon I can make it a perfect hat-trick.”

His smile was equal parts devious and suggestive. Your grin remained — he always kept you amused — but your brows furrowed, not quite following.

“One with my fingers,” he kissed your cheek, “one with my tongue,” kissed your other cheek, “one with my cock,” kissed your forehead. He laughed, clearly amused with himself, but it was soon stifled as he kissed along your jaw, making his way to your neck, his open mouthed kissed and nibbles drawing a moan out of you.

You ground down on his lap, pleasure shooting up from your core at the friction. You moaned even louder, and you could feel the vibrations of James’s laugh in the crook of your neck. His hands moved from your hips to knead your arse then came under your shirt, giving you a loving squeeze before pulling it up and over your head. You quickly took his glasses off, placing them on top of your now discarded shirt.

He pulled back from your body to stare at your bra-clad tits, groaning appreciatively, his enthusiasm boyish but utterly endearing. His hands went to unclasp your bra, but before even getting it off, his face was already between your tits, kissing the soft flesh between them, nuzzling and nibbling you. You laughed at how unfailingly he loved your chest, even after so long together, and brought your hand up to scratch his scalp and tug his dark hair.

“This is my favorite place on Earth,” he said into your chest, squeezing it playfully with his big hands before moving to suck on your nipple.

His face and mouth still loving on your boobs, he raked his hands down your body, one grabbing your arse again, the other cupping between your legs. His palm pressed perfectly on your pussy as he licked from your chest, up your sternum and neck, and into your mouth. You welcomed his tongue with yours and helped him pull your trousers off, shifting awkwardly on his lap without ever breaking apart. Even though you were making out, you were both giggling giddily.

Pulling your panties to the side, rubbing your increasingly wet folds, James laughed out, “You see? I’m already past the defenders.” “For fuck’s sake, Potter, you already got in my pants; you don’t need to keep up the football jokes.” “What can I say? I’m funny and effortlessly charming all the time, not just when I’m trying to get in your pants, love.” You rolled your eyes, smacked his shoulder, but dove back down to keep kissing him as he finally plunged his long fingers into your weeping cunt.

“Fuck, Jamie, feels so good,” you praised, as he curved his fingers just right, setting a teasing but pleasing pace. You followed it with your hips, increasing the warm tingling sensations taking over your whole lower body.

“That’s it, love,” he whispered, still playful but his voice lower, hoarse and hot as hell.

He picked up the pace, brought his other hand to your clit, and moved to suck the sensitive spot behind your ear. You could feel your climax approaching, grinding faster and harder to let him know, to chase the feeling you so craved. He followed your lead, thrusting as deep as he could reach, rubbing tighter circles, still precise in his motions, and soon enough, you let out a prolonged, “aaah,” as you came, clutching his shoulder with one hand, his hair with the other. Your sounds turned into giggles as his hands continued, slower now, gentle, as you rode out the pleasant aftershocks. “That’s one.” He looked quite proud of himself.

“Three’s much more than one; give me that smirk after three,” you shot back.

“Gladly.” He wrapped his arms around you, and in one quick motion moved you from his lap to the couch. He shifted to hover above you, looking down with such love in his eyes you couldn’t help but interrupt the playfulness and the seductiveness with a gentle caress of his cheek. He leaned into it, turning his head to kiss your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re so unreasonably beautiful, you know that?”

“So are you,” you responded, voice sweet as honey.

He smiled like it was the kindest compliment he had ever received and leaned down to kiss you fervently. One hand roaming your body roughly, one hand holding your face gently, James kissed you with all the love bodies could express.

Slowly, teasingly, he moved away from your mouth, kissing your face and neck, moving back to your mouth a moment before kissing back down a bit further. He repeated this a few times, moving lower each time, until he continued down your body, unsurprisingly but so gratifyingly taking his time at your tits. Then, lower, lower, until he was licking up your bikini line. He nuzzled your cunt, but didn’t do more as he moved his face across it to do the same on the other side.

You were aching by now, thrusting your hips up into his face unthinkingly. You thought he’d make a joke about how needy you were, but when you were met with a groan instead, you snuck a glance down at him and met a hungry stare, his hair an even worse mess than usual, his eyes lidded, his lips swollen and wet. He was completely engrossed in you, his desire overwhelming even his perpetually playful attitude.

Without any more ado, he pushed his face into your cunt and ate you out like a starving man. His mouth worked expertly, his tongue moving in and out of you before licking up to your clit then moving down again to lap at your entrance and then to suck on your folds. He had a sixth sense for knowing when to build a repetitive rhythm and when to switch it up.

“James,” you hissed, your second orgasm building faster than the last, faster even than it usually did when he ate you out. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” The vibrations from his half-moaned, “uh-uh,” shot through you like a jolt as you screamed in pleasure. He shook his head from side to side quickly to intensify your orgasm, and when you finished and he pulled back, his entire face was covered in you.

You returned his adoring smile before dropping your head back onto the cushion, elated but spent. “You’re so fucking good at that,” you said.

“You’re so fucking delicious,” he responded, kissing all over your cunt and thighs before coming back up to your face. His body covered yours, his prominent bulge pressing into you. “I think you’re wearing far too many clothes,” you scolded, and he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and his trousers down his legs, struggling to kick them off entirely as you giggled from below him. “Much better,” you told him as you wrapped your arms and legs around him and reveled in the feeling of his body on your body, his skin on your skin.

You continued making out like this, holding and kissing each other, till you pulled back, gesturing at the telly with a nod of your head, teasing, “you’re running out of time for that hat-trick, Potter.” “I’m not worried,” he smirked back at you as he thrust his hips into yours. You were so sensitive from everything that had happened already that just that friction felt incredible. He brought a hand down to guide himself into you, and your groans matched each other’s as he took his time bottoming out.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his face incredibly close to yours, his cock now buried deep inside you. He kissed you once before moving his face to the crook of your neck, focusing on his hips as he began thrusting in and out of you. He started slow, savoring the sensation, dragging out achingly before pounding back in roughly. Gradually going faster, his grip on your thigh tightened and he bit down on your shoulder on a particularly hard thrust, the pleasure clearly becoming too much for him as well. You held him close and met his thrusts, and moments later, all teasing was forgotten as all that was left was skin was slapping against skin, passion being expressed physically as he pounded into you.

His groans grew louder as his climax approached, but he slowed down slightly, determined to make you cum before he did. He brought his hand down between you, rubbing your clit as he sucked on your neck. It didn’t take much for you to be on the edge, and a couple hard thrusts later, you moaned in exquisite pleasure as your third orgasm hit.

“Jamie,” you whined as your thighs started shaking and his thrusts grew increasingly volatile.

“Fuck,” he repeated as he thrust as deep as possible over and over. You felt him start losing control, and the sensations of him hitting all your most sensitive spots went from a bit too much in your oversensitive state to an exhilarating perfect mix of pain and pleasure. You chased the feeling, and moments later you were clenching vice-like around him and pulling him closer as you whined and groaned through a fourth.

This brought him to his completion, and your pleasure peaked as you felt him release inside you. Your walls still fluttering around him, his thrusts now sloppy, he exerted his last bit of energy then collapsed on top of you in utter bliss.

The whistle announcing the start of the second half cut through the thumping of your rapid heart beat in your ears as you lay entwined with each other. You both laughed through heavy breathing.

“Just in time,” James said. “And with one more than promised, no less.” He winked cheekily. “Pretty good performance, Potter. I think I’ll keep you around.” “And I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me,” he said sweetly, sincerely.

You kissed him gently, caressing his face as you whispered, “I’m glad you like a challenge then because that sounds like forever to me.”

“Sounds brilliant.” You nodded brightly before pushing on his shoulders and saying, “But for now, get off me or we’ll miss the second half.”

“Fine,” he chuckled, “but I’ll only get off if your clothes stay off.” He leaned down to place a kiss on each of your tits before pecking your lips and smiling his mischievous smile you so loved.

“Deal.”

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