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romerona · 1 year

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Chapter 4: The hippogriff incident.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɪᴛ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ. ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴇᴍᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ, ɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴛ… ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ.

Harry James Potter x OC

Masterlist.

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

"So, this is the infamous monster book?" Asked Love as the three Ravenclaws made their way down the sloping lawns to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid's hut was.

"Tis I, in all my monstery glory." Padma grabbed the rope-bound, fluffy-looking book and shook it as if it was the one talking, making the book growl at the sudden movement.

"Monstery is not a world, and for Merlin's sake, would you stop shaking it before you lose a hand." Emma sends her a warning look.

"Kill joy."

Padma rolled her eyes and passed the book back to Love who examined it further, the four eyes were closed as if it was resting, it had weird fangs hanging from the edges of the book, which could probably cause plenty of damage giving the opportunity, and the mouth was the biting the pages of the book, function as a lock.

"What a funny-looking book." She mumbled. Had she been clueless about the reputation of the book, Love would have to try to open it as any other book but now, it was obvious that it wouldn't work for this book. "Any clues on how to open it?"

"I know how to," Emma exclaimed, earning the girl's attention. "Well, given that it's a book with... living characteristics, I suspect they don't appreciate it if you just open them rudely, like any other animal, they can feel, so you need to sweeten them Into opening."

Love hums tilting her head, and looking down at the sleeping book. "Makes sense."

"It does but how do we sweeten them, Mr Wonka?" Padma said, turning to look at Emma, arms crossed.

He rolled his eyes. "How do you get a cat to purr?"

"Are you telling me I need to pet that demon book?" Padma scoffed in disbelief.

"Stroke it." Love and Emma said in unison.

Love turns to Emma quickly "Jinx."

"Shit." Emma groaned, he had only said the first two syllables of the word.

"You owe me a chocolate frog."

"Yeah, yeah," He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll buy you one once we're in Hogsmeade."

They arrived at the hut, where several other students were already there, like Lavender and Parvati who waved at them and Hagrid who was waiting for his class at the door, waiting impatiently for the rest of the class, with his dog, Fang, at his feet.

"Reckons he's going to be a good Professor?" Asked Padma, gazing at the half-giant.

"He is resourceful." Love said, nodding her head with confidence and giving her answers. "And well educated in the care of creatures, as we all know."

"Yeah, but is he going to make a great teacher, though?" Padma said, lips tightening. "It takes more than just skill to be one."

"Well, that is true but this is also his first year of teaching, so I can't give you a factual answer but I have faith he will."

"Yeah, let's give him the benefit of the doubt," Emma said, nodding his head solemnly.

Familiar laughter caught Love's attention, glancing back, she saw Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy all cackling at something the bleach blonde was telling them, it was not until he pretended to pass out again did she know the reason why.

"Merlin, can't they just let it go?" Love mumbles, rolling her eyes.

Padma glanced at them too. "What is a Slytherin if not malicious?"

"I don't think they're malicious, just... they like to tease a lot." Love said, turning back her head to look at the hut.

"They bully people a lot, you mean," Emma mumbles, annoyance mixing in his tone. He had been a subject of their bullying once or twice before.

Love purses her lips, "Not all of them, Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini are one of the plenty who doesn't do that."

"That we know of, they can be sneaky as a snake, the lot of them." Padma shrugged.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" Hagrid called as the last of the class approached interrupting their conversation. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

"Where do you think he's taking us?" Asked Love, following Hagrid.

Emma frowns, looking ahead. "I just hope it's not the forbidden forest."

"Of course, he won't take us there," Padma said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's forbidden for a reason, Dumbledore wouldn't let it happen."

"Well, you never know."

Thankfully, they were right, he didn't take them to the forest, after a few minutes of strolling at the edge of the trees, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock but it was empty.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it -- make sure yeh can see -- now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books --"

"How?" said the drawling voice Draco.

"Eh?" Hagrid blinked.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope.

Love noticed that the only book not bound to anything was Emmanuel's who had it under his arm.

"Hasn' -- hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

Emma looked at his feet, his teeth biting into his lip, making Love frown. Emmanuel was brilliant, he could solve a riddle in a matter of seconds, he could have the answer to a question before you even ask it, and he could recite books word for word, but his enemy was no one else but himself.

Love had come to find out over the two years she had met him that Emmanuel is not all that grumpy, he's just really shy and he's scared of what others think of him, which holds him back from doing plenty of things, like, for example, saying out loud he had been able to open the book when no one else had.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look --"

He took Hermione Granger's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

Padma leaned against Emma and whispered. "You're right after all."

"Of course I was." He whispered back, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered, gaining the trio's attention. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I -- I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Draco huffs sarcastically. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

Love sighs, tired of Draco's behaviour and feeling guilty towards Hagrid for some reason, who was looking downcast.

"Damn Malfoy." Emmanuel rolled his eyes, holding back his sneer.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so -- so yeh've got yer books an'...an'...now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on..."

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"Have you got it?" Love asks Padma, who was struggling against the book.

Padma grunts, trying to run her finger over the spine. "Yeah, it's just a pickle."

"Let me help." Love giggled as she tried her best to help the struggling girl.

Finally, they did it and the book opened up at last, leaving a panting Padma in the process.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly, and at this point most of the class ignored him. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him --"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry Potter snapped.

"Oop, dog fight," Padma whispered, making Love nudge her ribs but hide a small amused smirk.

"Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you --"

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown interrupting about every conversation with the loud sound, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Love gasps as she watches a dozen creatures trotting towards them. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Woah." Love mumbles, staring at the animal in awe and admiration.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Emma did a small victory pump. "Knew it."

Yeah, the Hippogriffs were gorgeous with their gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different colour: stormy grey, bronze, pinkish roan, bone white, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer..."

Love purses her lips, there was a big part of her that told her to jump off the fence and head straight towards them but the logical part of her brain was a lot more hesitant to do so, after all, they're still wild magical animals.

She decided against it, she could learn about the creatures from the place she was.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Simple enough.

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right -- who wants ter go first?"

Love felt Emma's hand on her elbow as he took a step back bringing her with him, she didn't stop him as the thought of being near the creature was slightly frightening, even more so when the Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," said Harry, making all the heads turn to him.

"Didn't you tell us your divination Professor predicted his demise?" Padma asked, gazing over to Harry.

"Yep." Love nodded in confirmation, frowning at Harry Potter, the brave fool.

Harry climbed over the paddock fence.

Emma shook his head in wordless disappointment. "Gryffindors just don't listen, do they?"

"Apparently not."

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Right then -- let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the grey Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. There was a tense air around the class, most of them just waiting for something awful to happen. Love on the other hand was intrigued by the plenty of ways this could go down.

"Easy now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly yet most of the class heard him. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink... Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

Harry was looking, staring at the Hippogriff, not blinking as Hagrid had instructed him, the class watches with their heart in their hand as Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry... now, bow."

Harry's hesitation was tangible even from where Love was standing, but like a great Griffindor, he courageously did as he was told. He gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right -- back away, now, Harry, easy does it --"

But then, to everyone's relief and surprise, the Hippogriff bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right -- yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

"Merlin, I thought he was going to get eaten." Padma breaths out, clapping

Emma made a face. "That would have been gruesome."

Love nodded while clapping her hands along with the rest of the class, Harry turned his head towards the class, his eyes locking with hers, she gave him a quick thumbs up with a tight awkward smile when his eyes didn't break contact, and regretting it after and cringing on the inside.

'Why did she do that?'

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid, stopping the clapping. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

"Oof," Emma mumbles, grimacing at the thought of riding a hippogriff as if it was him the one being asked to do it.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

The class watched him as he put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up and the class tense, all in unison.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, he just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward.

The class oh's and gasps in awe as they look up at the blue sky as the Hippogriff took the boy for a ride around the paddock.

"You don't think we'll all have to do that, do you?" Emma asked, looking up at the flying creature.

Love shrugged, eyes on the large wings. "I wouldn't mind if we do."

"I'll ride with you," Padma added quickly. "No- no, I take that back. I want to ride alone."

"Fine, your loss."

The class watched as the Hippogriff descended, and steadily landed back inside the paddock.

The Gryffindors were cheering even before he had landed, urging the other houses to do the same. Love, once again, found herself clapping although a little more enthusiastic than before, the Gryffindor spirit washing over her in waves.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid, a proud smile on his face. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

"Come on." Love grabbed her friend's wrist and climbed into the paddock, excitement bubbling within her.

Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, Love's hippogriff was the bone white one, golden colour at the end of the feathers of each wing, and ever so pigmented green eyes, almost like neon.

"Be careful," Emma told her as she slowly approached the Hippogriff, everything Hagrid said was repeating like a broken record in her head.

Her eyes stared at the green ones, and never once blinking she bowed her head carefully. The Hippogriff regarded her for a moment making Love's breath stuck in her throat but then, it bent its knees to her in a bow.

Love smiled in relief, she was careful but instead of patting the beak as many were doing Love patted the side of its neck, as she did with Peggy. Soon the Hippogriff was tilting its head towards her hand, obviously wanting more and Love was more than happy to oblige.

She had been too immersed in her Hippogriff to notice Malfoy's voice, not until he had let a high-pitched scream she did, making her gasp and turn from the creature to the source of the commotion.

She watches as Hagrid wrestler Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

Concern waves over her as she watches Draco struggle on the floor.

"Holy shit," Padma said as she made her way toward Love with Emma not far behind.

"I'm dying!" He yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me -- gotta get him outta here --"

Love was quick to act, she ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Draco easily and as they passed, Love got to see a long, deep gash on his arm making her worry further as blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

"What happened?" Love asked Emmanuel and Padma as they walked behind Hagrid, ignoring the Slytherins shouting about Hagrid.

"They should sack him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

"The instructions were clear, he didn't follow them, it's his fault." Anthony Goldstein, a Ravenclaw yelled at them.

"Why are you taking their side, Goldstein?" Someone asked but Love couldn't care less as she turned to her friends expectantly.

"Malfoy being Malfoy." Padma rolled her eyes, hoisting her satchel up her shoulder.

"He was saying rude things to the Hippogriff, and well, Buckbeak didn't take it lightly and rightfully so." Emma crossed his arms, "Honestly, he had it coming."

"Emmanuel." Love scowled, making him throw his arms up in defeat.

"Listen, I know you two are acquaintances for some reason, but that doesn't make it any less true." He defended himself.

Love rolled her eyes, ignoring the comment as they all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase.

The Slytherins, were still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room, the Gryffindors were muttering it was Draco's fault on their way to their tower and the Ravenclaws were silently agreeing with both Houses, first it was risky to interact with such creatures but Hagrid did give them all detailed, easy instructions in how not to end up stumped over like Draco was.

"I just hope he's alright." Love mumbles once she's inside the common room.

Padma threw her arm around the girl. "I'm sure the wimp's fine, now would we start searching for wanderlust?"

🤍

Harry, Hermione and Ron were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there, but someone else was.

"Harry, isn't that your father and uncle?" Asked Hermione once they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

James Potter and Sirius Black sitting on the Professor's table, on each side of Remus Lupin. Harry frowned, as he watched his dad talk amicably with Professor McGonagall, and his uncles talking with each other, wondering why they were there.

"Yeah..." he sighs and chooses to ignore them until they, inevitably, come to him.

Ron frowns in confusion. "What do you reckon they 're here for?"

"I think it's because of the dementor incident yesterday," Hermione said, glancing at Harry who rolled his eyes.

"Brilliant." He muttered sarcastically, a hand running down his face, just what he needed, and no doubt they'll hear all about Trelawney's prediction too.

The students began to flood inside the Hall, but while his peers sat next to him he heard his father make loud calls of his name, making him grimace.

"Harry!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, waving his hand like a madman. "Harry, son— Harry!"

Harry's cheeks reddened as he turned to his father with a glare, who only smiled mischievously and sent him a wink. Of course, he had done that on purpose, his father lived for embarrassing his son.

Thankfully, the feast soon began, and they all tucked in, people around them were talking about the incident at Care Of Magical Creatures.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

Harry was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

Once the feast was done Harry tried to follow the Gryffindor students back to their common room but he was detained by his father.

"Harry, there you are," said his father, stopping him from taking a step further along the staircase. He turned to his friend with his ever warm welcoming smile. "Hermione, Ron, nice to see you again."

"You too, Mr Potter." Hermione politely smiled back whilst Ron grinned waving his hand. "Mr Potter."

"Two years and you still call me Mr Potter, it's just James," he smiled at them before motioning his head down at his son. "Would you two mind if I borrow this handsome devil for a minute?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, sending Harry a quick smile.

Ron nods. "See you in the common room, mate."

And with that, they were gone.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asks, slightly annoyed.

Sirius suddenly appeared on his other side, holding a hand to his chest theatrically. "Ouch, that's not a way to greet your favourite uncle."

"I don't see uncle moony around..."

The older man gasps and sends him an over-dramatic, betrayed look. "After everything we've done together? I'm just tossed aside like an unwanted chocolate frog card, you are a cruel godson."

Harry gave him a deadpan look, before looking between his dad and uncle. "What are you doing here?"

"We just wanted to check up on you," James admits, concerned eyes roaming his son's form. "Remus sent us a letter yesterday, about what happened on the train,"

"We were worried, Harry," Sirius told him.

Harry sighs, first Madam Pomfrey thinks he's delicate, then Malfoy and his cronies' constant teasing and now his father and uncle.

"I'm fine, there's no need for this visit." He said hotly.

Sirius purses his lips. "We just wanted to make sure."

"Again, I'm all right."

"And we know that now," James said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Which reminds me that your mum is so mad you didn't owl her, don't worry I kept her from sending a howler, but there's only so much I can do, son."

"I didn't think it was a big deal." Harry shrugged, feeling slightly guilty for worrying his mother. "Tell mum, I'm sorry."

"She knows." James smiled, letting him go. "Now go on, to bed, I'm sure you're tired."

Harry purses his lips, thinking to say that he's not a child anymore for him to send to bed but he was tired so he just nodded, giving him a quick smile, he waves at his father and uncle before beginning the climb the stairs again but just at another step–

"Oh and Harry,"

The boy turns to face his family in expectation, just as the staircase moved out of place making him stumble a little.

James and Sirius grinned at each other. "You'll see us around more often,"

"What?" He shouted as the distance between them was getting longer yet he was sure he would have still yelled regardless of the distance.

"Yeah, just a few times a week, for security things, you know." Sirius shrugged innocently with a less innocent smirk on his face.

"No," He grumbles, leaning against the railing.

"We love you too."

Once Harry finally arrived at his crowded Gryffindor common room, he sat with Hermione and Ron and told them his latest news reluctantly as they tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, Hermione thought it was a brilliant Idea, more security while Ron just nodded in agreement, he likes to have Harry's father and uncle around, as does Harry but not all the time, eventually, they all turn back to their work but all three of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly.

Ron looked at his watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early..."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Harry saw her glance at him.

"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," he said pointedly. "Peter Pettigrew hasn't got past the Dementors yet, has he?"

So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to be out.

🤍

Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, Love Emerson entered the Hospital Wing, looking for a certain bleach blonde, yet not entirely happy to see him.

"Draco, you're such daft." She announced herself, as she approach his bed, noticing the bandages on his right arm.

Draco looked up from the book he was reading, probably one that one of his friends brought for him, and scoff rolling his eyes once he saw her. "I'm on a hospital bed and that's the first thing you say to me, nice to know I'm appreciated."

"It's not like you deserve any sympathy coming from me," Love told him, eyes hardening. "As a matter of fact, I shouldn't even be here even less talking to you, as I remember you said 'I don't even know why am I speaking with you, Emeron' sounds familiar?"

Draco purses his lips, looking uncharacteristically guilty. "I didn't mean it, Crabbe and Gole were there and–"

"Right, because you being friends with a muggle-born is such a scandal." She crosses her arms, eyes cold as they stared down at Draco.

"It's complicated and you know that, " He sighs, his book long forgotten. " Regardless, I shouldn't have said that, it was just at the sprung of the moment."

Love pursed her lips, thinking back at the previous year when she was assigned to sit next to him in charms, he was a right brat at first, making comments here and there which Love just ignored or say a few herself back. After a few classes together, Love realized that his gradings in the class were not great, she didn't say anything about it though, not until Professor Flitwick commented on them, asking Love to help him just a few times after class. To tutor him.

At first, of course, both refused profoundly but the old professor told Love that he'll give her extra credit if she did and reminded Draco that all Quidditch players needed a certain level of grades in school to be on the team, so reluctantly they ended up in a secluded part of the library, – per his request– for his tutoring.

It was hard at first, as expected, but after a little, while both became somewhat of acquaintances, Love made him realize that both of them benefited from these tutoring sessions and it was not like anyone would see them and eventually they became friends which led them to share a few things with one another.

Draco's attitude changed towards her a bit when she told him she was adopted, Love was well aware of why the factor changed things for him, of his perspective of her, because her true lineage was unknown, open to be anything, even pureblood. On the other hand, Love found out that Draco Malfoy was much more than he let on, he was complicated, and he was brought up in a cold, closeminded household which unfortunately, in the muggle world that's pretty common, Love herself had received a few nasty comments for it, because of who her family is but she believes people like that are just guided in life wrongly and can change given the chance, so, she gave Draco a chance.

But of course, Rome wasn't built in a day, there was an unspoken condition for the friendship to happen. They never talked if not in private, because Draco Malfoy, the pureblooded Slytherin would be the laugh of his house if was seen interacting more than necessary with a muggle-born girl.

Love didn't think the whole blood thing was that deep, both of them are humans, bleed red, have warm blood, have the same organs, and feel things, but alas she let him be for the sake of their friendship but that doesn't mean she's going to forgive everything he does or say, there have been a few occasions where he crosses a line and she had to set him straight like she was currently doing.

"I didn't mean it, Love, really, it's just... my friends wouldn't understand." Draco moved forwards and grabbed her forearm with his good one, making her look at him

"Oh, alright." Love sighs, arms going limp to her side before taking his hand on hers. "I forgive you, but I really don't like that lot you hang with, Crabbe's aggressive."

"He just has half a brain cell, don't hold it against him,"

Love snorted, shaking her head, she sat down on the near chair, "So, how are you feeling?"

"It comes and goes, Madam Pomfrey said I could have lost my arm," Draco said, struggling to hold her bandaged arm up for her to see.

Love narrows her eyes, knowing her friend likes to add more than necessary to the stories. "Lost a limb? Draco get serious."

"I am, that... beast could've ripped it off." He sneered, eyes going cold. "All because of that bloody halfbreed–"

"Draco." Love snapped, eyes narrowing, she absolutely despised it when he spoke like that, and he knew and yet it always slipt.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm hoping he gets sacked."

"Oh, for Rowena's sake Draco, he doesn't deserve that, can't you just leave the man alone?"

"Look at me, Love," He snapped, eyes narrowing. "He's not fit to be a professor."

"We don't know that yet, but... "she sighs knowing it would be useless to talk to him at the moment when he's still hot and bothered about what happened. "Whatever, let's talk about something else, like, how were your holidays?"

"Good," He shrugged, as if it was nothing special had happened. "Went to my summer manor in France, Pansy came over repeatedly, wouldn't stop following me around, it was vexing and the worst of all, mother thinks we're getting married,"

"Ah, just imagine, Pansy Malfoy, the lady of the Malfoy Manor, how nice." Love said in a dreamy voice, hands clapping together in fake fascination.

"Stop, that'll never happen," Draco shuddered, before grabbing her hand once again. "What about you?"

"Well, my holidays were also pretty great," She said, smiling at the memories, "Went to Singapore and then visit my grandparents, it was actually refreshing to visit them for a change."

"You look different this year." He told her suddenly.

Love's smile wavered, mind subconsciously racing, "What do you mean?"

"Just..." He looked down at their hands and shrugged. "Different."

"Why thank you, Draco." She rolled her eyes, pursing her lips."It's just probably my stress levels taking over."

"Why are you stressed about? Classes had just started bloody Ravenclaws."

"I lost my journal, and I can't find it anywhere." Love's face turns into a distressed expression.

"Well, when did you last see it?" Draco asks, sitting up slightly.

"Ugh, no don't start, I already turn my head over because of that question, I refuse to go through that again, at least not tonight."

Draco rolled his eyes, leaning back against his pillow. "Don't worry your head that much, it is just a book."

"It's not just that–"

That's when Madam Pomfrey came by, interrupting their conversation.

"Dear, visiting hours are over, you must leave for him to get some rest and recover."

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I'll take my leave then." Love smiled at her politely nodding her head before turning to Draco with a small smile, "Curfew's calling,"

He squeezes her hand, smiling at her softly. "I'll see you later, alright?."

"Sure."

And with that, she left but not before giving Madam Pomfrey one last polite smile.

A/N: Hope to enjoy the chapter. Please, tell me if you want to get tagged.

24 notes · View notes

superconductivebean · 1 year

Text

#173: Hogwarts Inquires - Ø

Loosely based on this post.

ABSOLUTELY NOT SPOILER FREE

A really long wall of text under the cut. I'm done for, I'll document the entirety of this game I stg, guess I'll die.

（ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ━━✫・*。

Before putting that one up, gotta say: didn't expect so much to happen just within MC's first week of Hogwarts; I say that every time I start anew.

From the player's perspective, running around the castle, solving secrets here and there, navigating the halls doesn't seem like a lot's going on at the very early stages of the game; I mean the pre-Map Chamber stage specifically, as it barely has anything to do both in and outside of the castle. MC doesn't have a broom yet, her -- I will refer to MC as to her in these -- spell set isn't spectacular to battle with and isn't full yet to solve many puzzles throughout the Highlands. Travelling on foot is possible but mundane and downright, increasingly irritating when you have to constantly sell stuff either in the Lower Hogsfield or Hogsmeade. But.

It all makes perfect sense, considering, MC has been in the castle for the less than a week. These quests are her acclimatising to her new life and getting familiar with the surrounding areas; from the player's perspective, it is also rather mundane. In-universe, MC wakes up and after class, has to explore, traverse and venture through many locations barely recognisable to her despite Field Guide Smart GPS -- which can be very much a convenience rather than a lore-accurate thing -- and subsequently learn about the Owlery, all exits of the castle, find a cave in the Forbidden Forest and open a Chamber deep beneath the Lake Merlin knows where in a positively enormous but still an enormous castle. On the very first week of the new life. With a befuddlement or confusion or the eel of getting lost, hinted by her own words -- if quest descriptions are to be believed -- My Field Guide won't guide me through this assignment and The castle is enormous! I may need to use the Charmed Compass in the Field Guide to help me find the way.

It's truly alot to take in during the first week, and MC acknowledges it herself:

Sebastian: Have you had much of a chance to explore the castle? MC: A little. It's positively enormous.

Professor Garlick: I spent a good deal of time alone in either the greenhouse or the library my first days here. MC: [[It takes some getting used to.]] It does take a while to adjust to being here.

Besides that, some areas had to be restricted access only. To add to ever-increasing number of tasks on MC's hands at all times.

Restrictions were implied -- and even used a few times -- but never implemented, likely cut, for some reason or another. While I found it unbelievably sad there isn't a single restriction and penalty for trespassing left almost entirely, for the sake of narrative building let's call it that, this all can be easily build upon what's already given. Along with a morality system, a hero meter, you name it, but what initially needed is awareness from the in-universe perspective.

It is important because it is also implied that MC's activities and Fig's searches are surrounded by rumors where it is easily possible to hide the truth and every intension behind just words, construct a lie or well-adjust an alibi; it is anti-Professor Black repellent, if you will.

The man doesn't believe rumors however grim these might be, he clearly needs evidence. It didn't work with Professor Weasley though when she had enough of the speculation, and Professor Sharp agreed to assist Fig in his goblin inquiries despite Fig's inconceivable statement of them working with Rookwood, of all people.

In other words, I'm interested to see the events unfold as if in the book or just simply going one after another. Hope it does make sense; in some other words more, the idea of looking at the plot or the fabula from different standpoints, of professors for example, is just right up my street. Which means, SPOILER ALERT.

It would be also interesting to see a timeline, somewhat clear. Forever can last popping balloons in Kogawa's assignments but if it all can be pinned to a specific day, I'm chasing after that goal.

It immediately becomes connect-the-dots but it's a fun little game outside the actual game; interpretations can be discarded or seem to lay down perfectly, I am still an unreliable enough and ornery narrator to be fully believed in any of my Inquires.

Can't keep it all for myself though!

（ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ━━✫・*。

I am not sure where to start, truly. I'll continue on the supposed restricted areas perhaps?..

First and foremost, MC can access the Restricted Section repeatedly after breaking in with Sebastian because she still has the key:

I'd better not let Madam Scribner see me trying to get in here. I still have the key. The key will help me get back in here.

The game does also hint that MC is either sneaky -- and she admits it herself -- and or if the cause is any way noble…

That's being said, when Professor Weasley is asking to discuss ongoing matters with MC during her assignment quest, she will hint she does know more than she lets on about MC's activities and that some of them she is likely to excuse or ignore entirely.

There are two particularly interesting quests to root for: Professor Weasley's Assignment and Polyjuice Plot. As this is the starter post and it is already taking a long walk, I will not go too deep until it is winter in-game but, I must say: these two quests deserve a post of their own.

For now, what matters is, if MC is as free-to-go as it may seem in the game.

Professor Weasley's Assignment starts right after Fire and Vice, a quest where MC unbeknownst continues to weave the chain of events tied to Rookwood's poaching empire's eventual collapse.

Accepting the quest under dim evening sun at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, MC and Poppy leave the Horntail Hall uninjured at dusk, freed the dragon, and are to return to the castle by the late evening with its egg fortunately saved from poachers -- or not so late, as it is the midst of the winter and nights are starting much earlier than in autumn in the Northern hemisphere. However. By the time MC returned, Hall of the Keepers can be heard in the halls; it is late, nearly nightfall. Important note: I do not use floo powder at all.

Professor Weasley is yet to know about the Horntail Hall or of its destruction's deathly consequences, but what she does know is that MC has been busy this year.

First, caught up with peers! And also, helped Mr Olivander (she mentions The House Quests only this time around)? Captured a unicorn (the other two things: an impressive Edurus Potion and Venomous Tentacula)? Protecting such a rare of beast…

Said beast can only be found on the single patch of land deep in the Forbidden Forest.

It doesn't matter if you didn't, wouldn't or couldn't capture one before Hazel the Unicorn; it is possible to have a unicorn in a vivarium from as early as October, and Professor Weasley will know because Deek tells her what MC does in the Room.

Just the very possibility to know how she'd react is what's needed here.

Professor Weasley knows MC ventured into the Forbidden Forest but notice, she doesn't scold MC nor deduces any house points. I believe, in her book, it is wholly justified by the very fact MC stepped inside it to save a rare creature from the poachers. Thus, MC had the good reason and wasn't goofing around?.. I can only guess Professor Weasley's take on this might be, er, Professor Fig-free motives are at least MC's own and could be excused due to mischief rather than Eleazar's enigmatic schemes.

I don't ask many questions, too. Or I'd stuck asking professor Garlick why wouldn't Leander field test the cabbages, or pester professor Sharp with something like, why is the Stench of the Dead being even available at the store, not to mention lively afterparties nearly everywhere, even Keenbridge's cemetery is infested with inferi, and it's a lovely little hamlet full of locals and travellers alike!

Which is why The House Quest mentioned out of suspicion such an adventure could had possibly been orchestrated by Professor Fig. It's kinda hilarious to think the man was up to things ranging from innocently weird (feed that toast to the Cracken!) to wicked at its purest (visit Azkaban? sure np ready when you are!) for Professor Weasley to immediately assume Eleazar tasked MC with something peculiar while he is away.

He, in fact, didn't, but who knew a quest to find missing pages could align with seemingly ordinary request from an old craftsman. MC, however, elucidates the already present suspicion, nervously rambling, how she is either fascinated by the wandlore or ghosts, or was intrigued by Professor Sharp's auror badge (to ask someone other than him about the very Programme he could had been assigned to help running should he stayed at the Ministry), or found Scrope a perfect guide for the little cave tour.

Nothing else is specified, therefore I assume, MC was either sneaky and hid the trails well or stayed out of trouble when possible; a loose one but, she wouldn't want to visit certain areas without a friend by her side (notably the arena east of Keenbridge or any of the quest-locked dungeons).

However.

MC can move an entire herd of unicorns in the Room of Requirement but what were MC's other reasons to sneak in the Forbidden Forest?

That's what Professor Weasley confronted Professor Black with during the Polyjuice Plot, likely hinting, that Fire an Vice aftermath caught her attention. Moreover, Natty's abduction, too; the whole school knew it was MC who rescued Natty that night, including the faculty, because Professor Onai told everyone. And to count, Sebastian's triptych searches all around Ranrok's Loyalists outposts, and Lodgok's requests. All these quests are tightly placed together, taking a time windows of roughly two weeks, which, again, is a lot to take in and prepare for, and this time, stay out of sight of everybody in the valley wasn't exactly a possibility any longer.

MC wasn't just exploring or innocently wandering around the valley, pulling the wand out when it's truly necessary. MC has gotten herself in a big trouble lately, the trouble she really shouldn't engaged with; fighting such dangerous people back is deeply concerning; and what's worse, it all might be a part of Professor Fig's plan, whatever it could be.

What gives, -- falsely or not, doesn't matter, the miscommunication is on Fig -- are two things:

Professor Fig's research and interest in goblins are tied to Miriam's death and MC is somehow knitted in in the whole story;

MC is a little bit too hesitant when her motives are suggested or implied to be anyhow connected to Professor Fig's interests.

To conclude, the situation also doesn't make much sense for a bystander, as everything about Fig only does when he explains not the dots themselves but why would he connect them exactly like he does.

Polyjuice Plot is still a shitpost though, WHY WOULD YOU KEEP BLACK'S HAIR WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'PREPARED' LIKE FOR WHAT EXACTLY don't @ me im losing it like sharp did but -- that's exactly the thing Fig would consider a viable option. Either because he can, or he thinks, risking it all than to allow any unnecessary number of people see even a tiny bit of what's he is up to this time is totally worth it.

And MC does it as well! Example.

To access the Restricted Section, she could've asked any of the known professors at a time for, perhaps, an advanced read on something? Students are supposed to learn more than what's in their assigned textbooks, especially and presumably, in DADA or in Potions.

She is brewing the Thunderbrew Potion and Professor Sharp encouraged to learn ingredients themselves, and that one specific to Thunderbrew is the Stench of the Dead. A part of a corpse, an inferius. Dark magic stuff. DADA class topic.

The book about inferius must belong to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. Thus, a good reason to ask for a pass; reaching the Athenaeum then would be incredibly easy, besides, the way back leads in the library! The only suspicious person would be madam Scribner but it'd be easy to pull a stunt like 'sorry i got curios and fought with a book within itself, AN EXPERIENCE DARESAY'.

Even Professor Sharp is concerned, somewhat, although he says that one line when Fig is chosen as a companion, I hope you know better than to let Professor Fig take you on one of his foolhardy adventures.

That's why at least a simple warning on screen, that MC is heading somewhere she shouldn't be, yes that's crude but, would only add to an immserion and dissolve the illusion of the free-to-go and go-where-she-pleases. And it's already there! MC points things out, sometimes; I insisted on something more apparent, however, but.

It's fine as it is now because imagine a sign forbidding to go to somewhere, or a message stuck on the screen, -- and then, no repercussions, nothing, at all, ever happening for trespassing somewhere.

I'm just being grumpy here, pardon me.

TLDR; MC is supposed to explore places and educate through adventuring but visiting restricted areas or trespassing is frowned upon. Another example of this would be Venomous Tentacula Hogsmeade Dude quest, after which Sirona reminds MC of what she's done (regardless of option MC actually chooses; handing the guy a tentacula of your own doesn't help, it still will be assumed MC stole it).

TLDR; When MC disguised as Professor Black says, I've decided to give him a bit more, er, leeway with his time., Professor Weasley is done with Black altogether and decides to take everything under her control. That's why she didn't leave for the Christmas break, perhaps other Professor stayed after her notice, too (I gave my own hcs here a leeway). That's why Fig tells MC, Professor Weasley has been keeping an eye on me. Perhaps we should meet there so she has no reason to raise concerns with Professor Black.

Unbeknownst to both of them, and that of everyone else, MC sort of kept everyone in the castle when it was most needed: Ranrok will attack Hogwarts shortly before the term resumes, in early January.

TLDR; Professor Black is very likely to excuse MC a lot of things as in the books, he admired bravery, and MC put up no cowardly fight -- she was rather noble saving all the people around her, helping them, dealing with the Final Repository, selflessly.

I found documenting the details like this fascinatingly engaging, although, I must warn: 0) I refer to MC as to her; 1) I do let my hcs go-be-free, to indepth? is it even a proper word deepen? things narrative-wise as they go; 2) originally, I planned all of this to address the lack of sense of time in the game; 3) and it all was and is needed for a rather huge fanfic I will eventually write, hopefully; 4) it's about mentor!Sharp, the man is fun and secretly a softie, it is an obsession and I surrender; shout out to all sharpies out here, you all do magnificently. 乁(✿ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)و

To capture this and many more, I started this little series. It promises to be a long one, too, as in my primary language I have 27 of them I believe.

As a bonus, what MC's first week felt like:

September 1, 1890, Monday: dragon attack | Gringotts | NO FEAST AFTER THE SORTING CEREMONY? Professor Black, you're very unpopular for a reason | Sleep!

September 2, Tuesday: Professor Weasley Thinks Somebody's Being Sus (and she is EITHER completely baffled by the ruin exploration part of the story she didn't know about and ready to inquire further OR she suspects MC and Fig rehearsed the supposed talk with her; not to mention the sense of distrust between Weasley and Fig, I'm ansgty about their friendship and might have an idea what led them apart) | some classes | troll attack | Rookwood's hunt for MC began here; thus, MC's reputation for fearlessness | Sleep!

September 3, Wednesday: free space | I mean, it is really just Crossed Wands and Incendio Spell kind of a day | MC breaks in the Restricted Section along with Sebastian in the late evening that day (he doesn't refuse because he is genuinely intrigued by MC)

September 4, Thursday: Professor Sharp is on our investigation carriage, too! (likely, he knows MC was in the Restricted Section last night because MC starts the convo with Fig BEFORE Sharp leaves the office lol; also, if MC stands somewhere in his field of view, THE MAN DOESN'T CARE EITHER HE IS LOOSING IT) | some classes again | Professor Sharp Thinks We're Good But We Need a Safe Space of Our Own to Practise (hinting, he might be aware of the Room's existence) | MC and Natty are chatting in the evening outside the Lower Hogsfield; Mrs Treadmill claims she was never ambushed so close to the castle ever before in her life

September 5, Friday: free space | Garreth's plan to 'acquire' dried billywig stings leads MC to Hogsmead through the secret passageway | Followed Olivander's request to the Owlery, MC searched for the clues to the little jackdaw mystery, to later on met Jackdaw's ghost in the Forbidden Forest | Map Chamber has been opened that night

September 6, Saturday: Flying Class | Sharp's Assignments | Imelda's First Time Trial | Sebastian offers MC Undercroft, MC offers him, 'ohhi seb i wield ancient magic dunno what does it even mean idk ikr', or 'nah some pages were missing sorry'

September 7, Sunday: Professor Weasley would have liked MC to have her own study to get up to speed. Thus, MC joined the Room Club: 1) Fig knows because he comments on the increasing beast population and the only source on this is Professor Weasley because Deek tells her everything MC does in there (unicorn, tentacula); 2) Weasley knows because she herself used to study in the Room; 3) Sharp most likely in the know, too, because -- I'm letting a hc-based theory out! -- what if these two notes in the Room of the Hidden Things were written by his former classmate and himself; the fireplace note, from the classmate T., and it starts with A., wonder who that might be, I found curious and telling: the note is lying near a fireplace with some potion bottles on top of it and cauldrons stacked up on the side; bathtub one is funny because, if you think about disposing a failed batch and ask the Room for a second opinion, what should you really expect from it. Cheeky thing.

Wholeheartedly adore the default Room's design; it is composed of potions, cauldrons and some ingredients. MC remembered Sharp's words! ( ͡° ل͜ ͡°) Moreover, I noticed but still might be wrong, Sharp's other dialogue about on why he came to Hogwarts is available after the Room has been opened, as he is certain now MC does have an empty cauldron waiting for her somewhere | Professor Fig returned in the evening.

The Next Week: free space | remaining side-quests (A Demanding Delivery, Absconder Encounter, The Daedalian Keys, Kogawa&Garlick Assignments, Follow the Butterflies)

13-14 of September, to give MC some breathing room: The First Trial

I'll say, exhilarating, but with sleep schedule possibly ruined by nightly ventures..? homework to be done..? establish a pace between the school and adventuring..? duelling looks stunning and elegant but all these moves require a good physique, which MC has, but still it can leave MC exhausted after a while..?

Now, that's exasperating!

Alrighty. I'm over by now.

Do slam that ask button if you want. I sit screaming since February and while I'm potted, I can at least woe comprehensively about things.

#днявочка #днявочка: hlegacy #днявочка: игры #hogwarts inquires - en #hogwarts legacy #eng tag #theeeeeese i will number as i ii iii #i havent mentioned that sharp's owl (with his first assignment) finds mc in the middle of the night #while i respect professor sharp being the night owl like the most of us #what would he think of mc if the letter had any kind of 'status: received' enchantment (and where it was received! in the old cellar!)#im not writing fics in tags im not writing fics in tags im not #eleazar fig #professor weasley #aesop sharp #also!!!!!! i adore sharp's choice of friends for mc #two sides of the same coin; he and matilda #matilda is happy for any friend and always sees any relationships as 'mc you found such a good friend in [X]'!#but sharp is vigilant of anyone and tries to impress that on mc and he is only er satisfied? content? with poppy and imelda #if only he'd knew whos idea was to take and return that egg............#as for imelda though he says in his regular meh she may inspire a sense of competition in mc but after short but very telling pause he adds #might do you good! -- and he is uplifted about it!!#sir you did say that like t h i s definitely because it is coming from an experience didn't you...............#everything sharp says out of his usual character instantly sends me #rambling in the tags

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whatsortofschoolisthis · 2 years

Text

Penny: If our plan goes poorly, where should we meet up?

Tonks: The afterlife, I suspect.

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Sean after the first three years of vault adventures: I learned some very valuable lessons from this.

Chester: I’m guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should’ve taken away.

Sean: Death isn’t real, and I’m basically Merlin.

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Merula: SAY YOU’RE SORRY!

Ben: I’M SORRY!

Merula: AND WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR?!

Ben: FOR SAYING YOU’RE AGGRESSIVE!

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Liz: I’ve lost everything. I’ve even lost my glasses.

Ismelda, looking at the glasses on top of her head: I’ll help you find them for five Galleons.

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Kit: I promised Charlie we wouldn’t do anything illegal!

Jae: Why would you lie to him like that?!

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Hecate, after the events of the fifth vault: If I asked you where the fuck we were, would I regret it?

Rowan: We’re safe.

Hecate: Oh good.

Bryn building a fire: We’re in the deepest parts of the Forbidden Forest.

Hecate: Ah, this is obviously some strange use of the word safe that I wasn’t previously aware of.

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Penny: Why would someone want to hurt Victor?

Chiara: Maybe because they met him.

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Jane: Someone’s taking me out tonight.

Skye about to lose house points: Oh, in that case, I’ll open the drapes to give the gunman a cleaner shot.

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Merula: You don’t know anything about me.

Talbott: I know everything. You’re an open book written for very dumb children.

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Jae trying to comfort Ben: There’s no such thing as demons.

Ben: Fine! Then, what do you think that noise is?

Jae: I don’t know, probably just a murderer or something.

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Andre: Sean’s acting a little strange today.

Wednesday: Today? My cousin is strange every day Andre.

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Barnaby: Ismelda’s our friend and SHE’S CRAZY!

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Kit: Are we in trouble?

Snape: Take a guess.

Ben: No?

Snape: Take another guess.

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Talbott: Of all the stupid, foolhardy, irresponsible, things to do!

Sean: Oh please, you’re just upset that we didn’t invite you.

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Kit: What are we going to do when the Wizard in White comes back?

Barnaby: Oh, Kit. That’s later! Maybe we’ll be dead by then.

Bryn: Great.

62 notes · View notes

samadiw · 3 years

Text

Knickers - Part 05 - We need to talk 🤐

D : "You smell good."

Hermione jumps

H : "Shit, you scared me, Malfoy."

Draco smirks and leans in closer.

D : "Didn't you ask me to meet you here?"

Hermione nods nervously.

H : "I did...."

She eyes him in his all black ensemble.

Merlin, he looked sexy as fuck.

H : "Umm, why aren't you in uniform?

Draco smiles fondly.

D : "My mother asked to see me, she misses me."

Hermione's heart melted.

H : "Oh, is she okay?"

D : "Yes, she's doing quite well, thank you."

Draco trails Hermione's bottom lip with his thumb.

D : "Its been hours since we kissed."

Hermione leans into his touch, her lips part and she whispers.

H : "Yes, I think it's time you refresh my memory, Malfoy."

Their lips touch and Draco deepens the embrace oblivious to their surroundings.

The sound of books falling to the ground interrupts them, they break apart and turn to the source.

A frightened 1st year stares at them.

Draco narrows his eyes menacingly.

D : "Move along, repeat what you saw to no one."

The terrified boy nods vigorously

Hermione rolls her eyes.

H : "Must you scare them."

Draco puts his hands in his pockets and raises a brow.

D : "Must we hide?"

Hermione looks at the blonde intently.

H : "I thought we agreed to keep our encounters secret."

Draco grins mischievously.

D : "Yeah, it does add to the fun, doesn't it?"

He closes the gap between them and traps her with his body.

D : "Meeting up randomly and snogging in forbidden places."

His fingers travel up her thigh and disappear under her skirt.

Hermione gasps but let's Draco do as he pleases.

Draco drawls seductively.

D : "Makes you feel dirty and adventurous, doesn't it?"

He presses flush against her.

D : "You get off thinking about me, Granger?"

Almost every night, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

Hermione rolls her eyes.

H : "Oh please, I have better things to do than masturbate every single night.

His long practiced fingers push aside the cotton underwear that covers her sex and strokes her inner folds.

Hermione whimpers and throws her head back in pleasure.

Draco grins in satisfaction

D : "Plenty wet now."

Laughter from the next aisle brings Hermione crashing back to her senses, she steps away from Draco and warns.

H : "Stop, there's alot of people around."

Draco chuckles.

D : "Why did you want to meet in the library, Granger? Is there a fantasy you've suppressed and want to bring to life?

Hermione averts her gaze and blushes.

H : "I, umm, have something to discuss with you."

Draco eyes the nervous Gryffindor.

D : "Go on, I'm listening."

Hermione's cheeks redden further and she stares at her feet.

H : "So, umm, Valentine's day is coming up and...."

Draco brings his hand up and interrupts.

D : "I'm going to stop you right there, I don't believe in fucking Valentine's day."

D : "It's a money making bloody ridiculous day."

Hermione's face falls in disappointment but she hides it well.

H : "Oh, I see, then this conversation is quite pointless."

Draco frowns.

D : "Granger, finish what you started to say."

Hermione grabs a large book and holds it tightly to her chest, she averts her eyes again and mumbles.

H : "Umm, no...I have to go."

Draco watches in confusion as Hermione hurries away from him.

Over the next few days Hermione ignored Draco and his advances.

She gave him various bullshit excuses.

What he did however see was Michael Corner (The sodding Head boy and shite Quidditch player.) Chatting up the witch he had been secretly snogging.

In frustration Draco walks towards The Great Hall and sees a bunch of people crowding around a bright red poster.

He walks upto Blaise and Theo

D : "What's going on?"

Theo grins excitedly.

T : "Valentine's day party."

Draco frowns and leers

D : "You can't be fucking serious."

Theo rolls his eyes and retorts sarcastically.

T : "Yes, yes, we are well aware of your crazy feelings about the day."

He smacks his forehead.

T : "Fuck, I've got to ask Luna."

Blaise nods in agreement.

B : "Good idea, mate, I'm going to ask Patil before some other fucker does."

Theo raises a brow and quips.

T : "Will you be joining the festivities with your mystery witch or are you going to drown your quacker ideologies in a bottle of firewhiskey?"

Draco sneers.

D : "First of all, theres no bloody mystery woman and second, well, yeah...maybe I'll ask someone."

It dawns on him.

Fuck, was this what Granger wanted to talk to him about before he rudely interrupted her?

Malfoy, you fucking donkey.

He had to find her

Draco looked around wildly, Granger was nowhere in sight.

D : "I have to go."

Theo asks suspiciously.

T : "Where?"

Draco glares sternly.

D : "None of your bloody business."

Theo chokes back a sob mockingly.

T : "It's like we dont know you anymore."

Draco rolls his eyes

D : "Stop acting like a possessive girlfriend, Theo."

Theo pouts and sticks his tongue out.

T : "You used to tell me everything."

Blaise rolls his eyes

B : "Stop your moaning."

Draco turns to sprint down the corridor to find Hermione but bumps into Corner instead.

D : "Watch where you're going, you insufferable git."

M : "Mind your attitude, Malfoy."

Hermione steps out from behind Michael and bends to pick the books she dropped.

M : "Are you okay, Hermione?"

Her eyes dart from the poster to Draco

H : "Yes, I'm fine."

Draco rounds on Hermione and asks desperately.

D : "Granger, can I speak to you?"

He throws a look of disgust at Michael and demands.

D : "In private."

Hermione puts her books in her bag and shakes her head.

H : "Sorry, I'll be late for class, let's catch up later."

Did she just disregard him like he was some unworthy piece of shit?

Hermione disappears into the Hall and Michael high fives Terry Boot.

Boot asks at once.

TB : "Did you ask Granger to the party?"

Michael frowns and shakes his head.

M : "I didnt get the chance, she's always got something going on."

M : "What I wouldn't give to tap that."

Draco heard word for word, he balls his hands into fists and controlls his raging temper.

Terry laughs.

TB : "You better get a move on then."

Michael nods enthusiastically.

M : "Yeah, I'm going to do it now and get it over with."

Draco almost drops his books and bag.

What the fuck?

What was this weird feeling of icy cold doom he felt in the pit of his stomach?

It slowly turned to blinding rage and he tried to tame it.

What he wanted to do was grab Corner by his robes and beat the mediocre wizard into a bloody mess.

Draco doubles over and fights the bile that rises.

Blaise eyes his best friend in concern.

B : "Er, you okay, mate?"

Theo frowns.

T : "Fuck, is he going to be sick?"

Blaise quips.

B : "Chill, hes feeling several emotions at once."

Theo raises a brow in question

T : "What?"

Blaise starts to count.

B : "1, 2, 3...."

It hits Draco like a ton of bricks.

He fucking liked Granger...alot.

Hook ups and random kissing aside, he wanted more.

Shite...

Draco straightens with renewed purpose.

D : "I need to go."

Blaise smirks and nods.

B : "Yeah, you do that, mate."

Draco rushes into The Great Hall

Theo stares after Draco's distraught figure.

T : "What the fuck is going on?"

Blaise lazily points to the Hall.

B : "Let's go watch, shall we?"

Michael reaches the Gryffindor table first and taps Hermione on the shoulder.

Everything happens so fast.

Draco runs at breakneck speed and tackles the unsuspecting Ravenclaw, they go crashing to the ground.

Everyone around them gets to their feet and stares at the struggling men on the floor.

Theo takes a step forward but Blaise holds him back.

B : "Let Draco handle this."

Michael groans and rubs his bruised side.

M : "What the fuck is wrong with you, Malfoy?"

Hermione crosses her arms over her chest and asks impatiently.

H : "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Both men get to their feet and try to adjust their tangled school robes.

Michael opens his mouth to speak, but Draco waves his wand effortlessly and places a silencio charm over the Head boy

Corner glares sternly and makes obscene hand gestures.

Draco clears his throat quickly and blurts out.

D : "Granger, will you go with me to this stupid Valentine's thing?"

Hermione blushes and grins triumphantly.

H : "People are staring at you."

D : "Fucking let them, I don't care, go with me?"

H : "I'll think about it."

Michael grins smugly.

Draco is indignant.

D : "Really? Are you fucking serious?"

Hermione steps closer and kisses Draco lightly on the lips.

H : "Of course, I'll go with you."

Theres pin drop silence, the entire body of students and teachers were staring at them with their mouths hanging open and eyes wide, except Slughorn.

He continued to eat his breakfast.

PS : "Minvera, my dear, I believe, you owe me hundred Galleons, did I not tell you the unlikely duo were a couple of sorts?"

McGonagall stares at Draco and Hermione in shock.

PM : "You did indeed, I just never believed it."

Draco smiles fondly.

D : "Marvellous, see you in potions, Granger."

Michael stares at the scene before him dumbfounded.

Draco mutters the counter spell.

D : "Oh sorry, Corner."

Draco slides in next to Theo at the Slytherin table.

His housemates gossip around him.

Theo continues to stare at his best friend and asks in disbelief.

T : "Granger?"

Its Blaise who answers.

B : "Yes, Granger, you need to learn to be more observant, Nott."

T : "Hermione Granger?"

Draco bites into a piece of buttered toast and grins.

D : "She's brilliant, mate."

The second Hermione sits down, Ron expresses his rather colourful feelings.

R : "Malfoy??"

Ginny snorts into her pumpkin juice.

G : "You are incredibly thick, Ron."

Harry laughs.

Ha : "I knew you were doing something, but I didn't think it was Malfoy."

Hermione blushes.

H : "No, umm, we haven't."

Ron looks at them in disgust.

R : "She kissed the snake."

Hermione smirks smugly

H : "I've been kissing him for weeks."

Ron looks like he's about to vomit.

R : "That's disgusting, you know that's Malfoy, right?"

Hermione rolls her eyes exasperatedly.

H : "Yes, I know, now drop it."

She looks around and scolds

H : "And that goes for the lot of you."

Ron bites into a sausage savagely.

R : "The world is going bloody bonkers."

#dramione #draco and hermione #draco x hermione #hermione granger #draco lucius malfoy #dramionefandom #dramionefanart #dramione smut #dramione fanfic

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

Text

Bridge Over Troubled Water • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Requests: can you do a blurb with Remus where the reader is nervous and anxious, maybe has a tough week and he gives her a massage and helps her relax? — anon and Hi! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating Remus and is disappointed in her school grades / results and is overall doubting herself and is disappointed with herself? — @emmaev

Summary: Things are getting really tough. Remus is here for you.

Warnings: mention of food, not eating/skipping a meal, hunger, depression, anxiety, a bit of a panic attack, homework, school, self deprecating thoughts, kinda take how we’re feeling in this pandemic and that’s kinda what this fic is, Snape being an ass for like two sentences, crying

Word Count: 1.7k

A.N: I hope it’s alright that I combined your two requests. But, I decided to make it longer with a lot more comfort. I really hope it’s ok with you guys ❤️ Kinda a vent fic? So that’s why it’s lowkey all over the place and the ending is sorta..abrupt? I hope you like it, though. I wanna say that I’m always here for you guys. This whole thing has been kicking my ass and school has been extremely tough for me, so know that you’re not alone. Know that you’ve got this. I believe wholeheartedly in you. Love you all. ❤️

Title: Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

****

You trudge up the stone steps to the boys dorms, your bag dragging heavily behind you. With your robes slipping from your shoulders and your tie dangling loosely around your neck, you almost consider letting your bag go. Watching the heavy sack of books tumble recklessly down the spiral staircase seems like a great idea to you. However, you make it to the sixth year dorms before you’re able to loosen your grip.

The oak door was closed but not locked. What use was a lock when the door was charmed to singe off the eyebrows of any unwelcome visitor? Thankfully, the boys granted you complete access to their room in third year, so the door couldn’t harm you.

Turning the brass doorknob and stepping through the threshold, you’re greeted by somewhat organized chaos.

Sirius and Peter’s side of the room was a complete disaster while James and Remus’ side was at least nicer to look at. Sure a few books were scattered on the floor and James’ red and yellow underwear was hanging from his bedpost visible to anyone who walked in, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the other two have going on. You don’t even want to look at it, knowing full well that just one tiny glance would make your already terrible day worse.

The room is empty and completely quiet, the boys, just like every other person in the castle, were down in the Great Hall for dinner. At the thought of dinner just downstairs, your stomach grumbles before quickly churning in agony.

Quickly, you dump your bag next to the door and go through Remus’ drawers, searching for that one specific jumper.

It’s the deep blue cable knit one that always smells like him. The jumper is soft and warm and the perfect piece of clothing to cuddle into when you needed a good cry. And Godric, you needed a good, long, ugly cry.

After finding it and throwing it on, you barely lift up your feet walking to your boyfriend’s bed to get swallowed up by his blankets.

The weight of the day hits you full force the moment your head collides with his pillow, and your lips wobbles, the day replaying in your mind.

Your morning started with a Transfiguration exam that definitely was not on what you studied all night for.

Then, your potion bubbled out of your cauldron and started disintegrating the stone flooring, making Slughorn shoot you very disappointed look that made you want to disappear into the Forbidden Forest forever.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into a complete disaster as well when Professor Bluebell handed back your essays on inferi, and yours ended up with a spikey red D scrawled angrily on the top. D, which stands for Dreadful, as Snape snidely reminded you from over your shoulder. He flashed you smug little smirk along with the delicate O that adorned his own essay.

And to top it all off, you had to meet up with Flitwick right after classes to go over the vinegar to wine charm that for some reason wouldn’t work for you no matter how hard you tried. And you still weren’t successful.

This was becoming a common occurrence.

You always knew that your N.E.W.T. year was going to be tough, but Merlin, you never expected it to be this awful.

Classes were longer and harder and your professors were relentless and unforgiving with the amount of homework and exams they started handing out.

Sure you had more free periods, but those were filled with research and essays and studying, you had no free time at all—it was all a lie.

You couldn’t escape it. Sleep was just more time to be plagued by anxiety to the point you barely even slept at all. Most of the time you stared blankly up at the ceiling thinking about all the assignments you could be doing instead.

It’s this torturous and vicious cycle that you just can’t get out of.

And your motivation was quickly disappearing.

It was getting tougher and tougher each time to even do your homework. Lifting up your quill and taking out a stack of parchment was just difficult. It took too much energy out of you.

Smothering your face in Remus’ pillow, you groan out your frustration, balling your fists around the frayed sleeves of the jumper.

You’re so wrapped up in your despair and panic that you don’t hear the door creak open and four sets of footfalls and laughter bounce around the room.

“Damn, what’s up with you?” Sirius chuckles. You hear him flop onto his own bed.

You bury your nose in the fabric of the jumper, inhaling the sweet and comforting scent of chocolate and old parchment that always accompanies Remus Lupin.

“Don’t be a git, Pads.” Remus scoffs, making his way towards you.

He crouches down by your head, placing a delicate thumb on your cheekbone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone turns soft, drenched with concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and dripping down to the white sheets.

“Alright, darling, hold on.” Remus whispers, placing a dainty kiss on your forehead.

He straightens up, knees creaking the way no sixteen year old’s should.

“Alright, lads, clear out.” Remus declares to his friends.

“You can’t kick me out of my room, Moony. No way.” You hear James whine.

“Yes, I can, Prongs, c’mon. Go play chess with Peter or something.”

“But he always beats me.”

“C’mon, Prongsie, we can scam the first years by making them place bets on you winning.” Sirius suggests. His boots click against the floorboards, trailing towards the door.

Peter’s light footsteps follow after them.

“Fine.” James huffs dramatically. “But I’m not sleeping on the couch again, so no funny business.”

The door slams shut and once again you’re met with silence, though you do hear Remus changing out of his uniform and into more comfortable attire.

The bed dips underneath Remus’ weight and his hand gently starts to stroke through your hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Remus mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

You try to swallow down the lump in the back of your throat.

“Just a very shitty day, Rem.” You manage to croak out, the words choppy and wavering.

Tears begin to flow freely, warm salty streaks making their way down your face in rapid succession.

“Oh darling.” Remus coos, practically pulling you into his arms and between his legs. You bury your face into his neck, tears dampening his scarred flesh. “It’s alright, let it out.” He continues to run your hair between his fingers. “Let it all out...”

“I-I’m just so stupid!” You sob, choking on spit. “Everything’s just getting too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

He squeezes you closer to his chest, opting to stay silent so you can vent everything off of your chest. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head and you’re vaguely aware that you’re being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’s so hard!” You continue to wail, lungs constricting rapidly. It’s a struggle to keep breathing and your words barely come out fully, instead broken fragments are the only things spewing out.

“I’m a failure!” You spit out, face wet with tears.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I promise.” Remus tried to soothe, his voice adopting a small but noticeable waver. His hand rubs your back.

“I am! I’m a disappointment!” You sniff, taking in deep gulps of air.

“Shh...” Remus pulls you back a bit so he can see your entire face.

You already know you look disgusting. Eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. Snotty, spitty, wobbling, and watery features taking up his entire vision.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Let me help.” He consoles you softly.

You gaze into his warm honey brown eyes, glistening with his own tears.

You sniff, rubbing the sleeves of Remus’ stolen jumper across your face in an attempt to dry yourself off.

“Everything’s slipping, Rem. My grades, my mental health, everything. And I’m so lost I don’t know what to do anymore.” You confess. “What am I supposed to do?” You bring your hands up to you hair, tugging at your scalp enough for you to feel sparks of pain.

Quickly, his own trembling hands take yours. He stops you from tugging, instead bringing them to rest on his jumper clad chest.

You swallow harshly.

“I’m going to help you, (Y/n)—“

“You can’t help me, Remus! I’m beyond help—“

“No, you’re not.” He retorts lightly. “I’ll help you with homework and help you ask for a few extensions...we can get you back on track.”

“Remus...” Your voice trembles at his kindness.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, a tear or two slipping from his waterline. “I’m so so sorry that I didn’t see you suffering like this. Merlin, (Y/n).”

Shaking his head at himself, he brings his forehead down to your own.

“I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I swear.” Remus keeps repeating in a pained mutter.

“It’s not your fault, Rem. I got good at acting like everything was fine.” Your voice cracks.

“Still! I should’ve realized!” He mutters angrily.

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much, please don’t beat yourself up over this.” You plead.

He bites his lip, deciding to drop it, instead focusing on you.

“Why don’t we try to relax, hm? Just take a nice night off?” Remus suggests, pulling away to brush strands of hair away from your sticky face.

“But what about homework—?”

“Tomorrow, love. I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”

You shlyly nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Remus whispers.

“I just bawled my eyes out, Rem, I’m sure I look like a swamp hag.” You snort.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into your back muscles. The knots start to dissipate.

“Never seen a swamp hag as angelic as you.” Remus flirts. But his voice is so sincere and honest, you have no choice but to somewhat believe him.

“Thank you, Remus.” You smile. “It means so much to me.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He confesses, trailing his pink lips down your neck. “Now let me hold you close.”

He lays down, resting his head on his pillow, your head resting on his chest.

Things are going to get better.

Probably not tomorrow.

Probably not this week.

But things will.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #the marauders x reader #the marauders

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clarrissanewt · 3 years

Note

Hello, I'm ashamed to say this is my 3rd time asking someone to do this request so pls put me out of my misery! If possible could you please do harryxfemreader where nobody knows the reader is really good with a broom? like a gymnast on a beam type of? You know how they do flips and stuff? One day harry comes across her doing tricks on the broom and keeps pestering to join the quidditch team for weeks after? Finally she agrees and In her first game she does a flip to avoid a bludger? Thankyou xx

Backflip

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

House: Gryffindor

Warnings: None

A/n: here I'm to actually end your misery *laughs nervously*

I'm no good at gymnastics and well, it's just a maiden attempt. Hope you like it!

Thanks for the request xx

September could never be bad. With a tattered, old book in hand, a thin, warm sweater over the shoulders, and a dancing fire in front of eyes- told you, it never could have been bad. At least for Potter.

And so, he didn't even notice when the portrait hole opened and when a highly exhausted Gryffindor plonked beside him. All thanks to the Prince.

It was only when Merlin knows what fell on his feet, he was yanked out of Prince and his little secrets.

"Oh- so sorry, Harry!"

The girl beside him plunged from her armchair to the rugged floor, hastily picking up the books that now sprawled within half a metre (his mind often exaggerates, and he admits it).

It took a minute for reality to hit him before he jumped to his feet. He had been lying in the common room for almost all day with Ron, who decided to ditch him and move to the Great Hall for some food. Not like he complained, though.

But her friend, who was currently plucking her scattered books, didn't look as fresh as he did. The reason, of course, was that she agreed with Hermione to waste her only holiday in the library (he is more than greatful that Hermione isn't an Occlumen, otherwise, she would have killed him before Voldemort did).

"Are you alright?" He asked her carefully as she fell back beside him, not minding that the rim of her feet brushed against the protuding stack of books.

"Yeah, just sneaked out of the library," she rubbed her eyes furiously as she avoided direct contact with the clicking flames. "If I'd gave opened another book, I'd have scorched my eyes for sure."

A smile crept into his face as he nodded in her direction. And definitely, she wasn't exaggerating (unlike him). Hermione had dragged her soon after their breakfast, and, by now, the sun was almost out of sight from the demarcations of the castle.

She did have a hectic day.

"Why don't you, maybe rest?" He advised, silently hoping she would decline it.

She did, but it wasn't what he even thought of.

"I think, I'm heading out. No, you aren't coming-" she was quick to halt his actions and gave out a small laugh. "Your nose still looks a bit displaced."

He silently rolled his eyes at the antics of his friend. She was almost completely out of sight before she appeared in front of him again.

"Erm- I was just thinking if you can lend me your Firebolt? Won't sabotage it, I swear."

And he was bumfuzzled. She was never interested in Quidditch, let alone be flying. He always saw her completely ignorant whenever a certain match was hotly discussed.

And now, it was of course impossible for him to stay put in the common room.

No surprises, he was always indulged in out of bounds.

At least four, he counted.

At least four times he had to clean his glasses to believe what was unfolding before his eyes.

The girl he had known for six years was nothing what he ever imagined.

The way her slender fingers left and gripped the broom in perfect intervals as she somersaulted within the deadly narrow range of the Firebolt almost made his heart do a backflip.

Wicked.

And again.

This was nothing he ever saw a wizard performing. The flips, the jumps, the movement of her limbs...they were magical.

He didn't even realize he had been gawking at her perfect dives and skills with his mouth ajar until he heard a low growl from the periphery of the Forbidden Forest.

Making a mental note to self to not keep his curiosity at bay, he decided to slip out undetected; hah, only if he could.

He stumbled upon few stray brooms and clenched his eyes shut as a gruff harsh cough reached the edge of his ears.

Sheepishly, he smiled at his friend (who seemed betrayed by her looks) and stroked a light-hearted conversation.

Thank, Merlin, she was nothing like Hermione.

And being the captain of Gryffindor Quidditch team, he had plans for tomorrow.

△▽△▽△

"I swear upon Merlin's whatever is left," she groaned as he followed her uncomplainingly (since he was no one to complain at this position), "repeat that again, and I'm hexing you."

"All fine with me if you join the trials."

"I'm not. Be scared of me!" She turned dramatically at him. "I can H-E-X you!"

"Trials-"

Pity him. She was gone.

By now he had almost lost the track of his pleadings. Now this was do or die- either she agrees, or he gets hexed.

No looking back.

He huffed out a deep breath before jogging towards her. And if Hermione and Ron had failed to pursue her, his last try had very little to do.

"Umm...hey- no! Wand down!"

She grinned at the terrified boy, and blew nothing but air over her wand, before latching it back into her pocket.

"If you are here for pestering again, come and help me with these," she pointed at the pots that perched on the floor which belonged to Neville, who had accidentally splashed some potion all over his hands, and now was in the hospital wing.

Harry nodded silently, the last hope also withering in front of his sight. As both of them hunched their backs and hugged the pots in their warm embrace, he tugged on her wrist (in his mind, he had planned his funeral in his mind already).

For a second, they both stood there, shivering under the evening wind.

"Please."

And her beautiful orbs twinkled as she smiled. "Just for this time. Watch it, Potter."

△▽△▽△

He couldn't have been more proud. His team was perfect. But only if the looks on the faces of Rona and Y/n told him so.

He and Hermione had been bugging them to eat something.

Easy to say on their part, of course.

And as she reluctantly tossed a single grape into her mouth, she wanted to double back her decision for agreeing with Potter that very second.

No looking back, of course.

Her fingers were malfunctioning so much by the next minute, she was sure she would screw up this match. Slytherins would be tough for sure.

For once in all her life, she wanted to get badly injured and run back to Madam Pomfrey. But instead, she was being dragged to the pitch by none other than the Chosen One himself.

"Harry, I- I think I'll mess up badly."

"Nonsense," he remarked nonchalantly and locked the Gryffindor lockers before asking for her numb hand again.

Except this time, she looked even more nervous.

"You want me to drug you like Ron?"

"Don't be stupid," she crushed him into a tight hug, which slightly loosened her own wild nerves. "I know you never dropped your liquid luck."

"Good. Now, come on."

And how exactly was she expected to guard three hoops when she couldn't stay still on a broom? She was repeatedly praying under her breath that Potter catches the snitch the next minute and they win.

But for another hour they continued scoring side kicking points while he skimmed the clouds for that tiny speck of gold.

He did, at last, sped towards it, soaring higher and higher, while her eyes distracted themselves from her own task. There was a second of gap where the snitch was within his reach, and bludger from her- oh, she had to defend.

She dived into the air with a graceful bent of her body and landed back effortlessly.

The cheers were loud, and yes, Harry had caught the snitch.

He couldn't help but smile goofily in her direction.

This was all he needed.

A backflip.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #hardy potter x you #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imgines

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bubblefina · 3 years

Text

King of Hearts chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary: Reader and Tom meet during their years at Hogwarts, but as the years pass, a rivalry grows between the two of them, which leads from soft beginnings to tragic endings.

“Your hopes were cut short when the snake slithered past him and towards you, making your heartbeat that much faster. Had the snake sensed your fear and taken you as a threat? First time at Hogwarts and your journey was about to be cut short by a snake of all things.”

Pairings: Tom x f!reader

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Chapter 2: A Chance Encounter

The three of you had gotten off the train a little while ago and were on the way to Hogwarts through a boat ride.

The castle in front of you stood tall and proud, its giant doors awaiting the first years to enter and be sorted into their houses.

After walking some more, you and the other first years found yourselves in the Great Hall.

The hall was big. Decorated with candles that were floating in midair, older students sat at the long tables, clapping as the younger students walked inside.

The group of first years were ushered towards the front of the great hall, where the headmaster stood next to a group of teachers, and an old looking hat.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, it is wonderful to finally meet you after all this time. Before we can start our welcoming feast, we must sort you all into your respective houses. Now, we will call you up one by one, so there’s no need to rush.”

The headmaster stepped back from the spot he was standing in and walked towards the hat that was sitting on a lonesome chair and lifted it.

One by one, the first years were sorted into houses, the hall erupting with cheers after each sorting.

Not paying attention, you were admiring the elegance of the Great Hall. It felt so spacious and welcoming.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a nudge to the side of your stomach. You looked to your right and saw Azalea slightly pointing to the stage.

“That's him, that was the boy I ran into at the station.”

You looked up and saw a boy that was about to be seated in the chair the sorting had been sitting in earlier. He looked small in stature, his hair was smooth and neatly combed over to one side, his clothes were all one monochrome color, consisting of dark blues and gray. His face looked blank, almost as if he had no thoughts at all, but his dark eyes shined whenever he looked up, the brightness of the candles reflected onto his eyes making them look rather innocent.

The hat was placed onto his head and hummed as it thought of the right house to place him in. It didn’t take the hat long before a gasp was heard, and the boy was sorted into Slytherin.

Cheers from a nearby table were heard as the boy got up and walked towards the table filled with green robes.

The surrounding whispers said that his name was Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle, what a simple name, simple yet mysterious.

After a few more children were sorted, it was your turn to climb the stage and sit on the chair.

The hat was placed on your head, and it did the same thing as it did with the other kids, hum and whisper as it thought of where to place you.

“Gryffindor? I sense some bravery in you, but you tend to put yourself down a lot, don't you?”

Heat rushed up to your face as you heard what the hat had said, the entirety of Hogwarts didn’t need to know everything about you.

“Hufflepuff? You value justice and loyalty, just like them.” The hat continued to hum upon your head, slightly spinning as it thought some more.

“Ravenclaw? I see some credible wit in you, along with your drive to learn and creativity.” It had felt like the hat was asking you what house you wanted to be placed in, but you didn’t know. Your dad didn’t go that much into detail about the houses at Hogwarts, so you were completely lost.

“Let’s see, Slytherin? Ambitious are you, with good leadership qualities.” Your eyes landed on the Slytherin table that was across the hall, some students narrowed their eyes at you, making you look away quickly.

It felt like you were in the chair for hours, the sorting hat was taking forever. The time was cut short however when the hat gasped and yelled, “Ravenclaw!” you sighed in relief as you didn’t have to be the center of attention any longer.

Climbing down the steps, you walked to the Ravenclaw table, where a girl welcomed you.

Her name was Vixie Leon. She was very friendly and introduced you to the other Ravenclaws that were around the table. You greeted them and went back to watching the sorting ceremony, now wondering if your friends would be sorted into the same house as you.

And as if Merlin himself was listening to you, they were.

Once the three of you were reunited at the same table, you squealed with glee.

The rest of the ceremony went well, and the students were finally able to eat and talk with each other.

After the welcoming feast, the prefects lead the first years to their house common rooms, so they could unpack and meet their roommates.

Ravenclaw’s common room was special because unlike the other common rooms that required a password or for you to tap certain areas of a barrel, the Ravenclaw common room required you to answer a riddle to get inside.

There was a bronze knocker on the door in the shape of an eagle. Once the students were crowded at the entrance, the knocker spoke a riddle, “Imagine you are in a dark room. How do you get out?”

The boy prefect and girl prefect looked at each other, whispering possible answers before the boy spoke up, “Stop imagining.” The door creaked open, the view of the common room was open to the students, who all gathered inside.

The Ravenclaw common room was beautiful. It was located in one of the tallest towers at Hogwarts, the high arched windows allowing those who looked through them a view of many of the things Hogwarts was known for, including the Quidditch pitch and Forbidden forest. Banners of the Ravenclaw emblem were draping down from the walls. Each panel of brick between the windows was decorated with a small lantern that shined a bright yellow. There was a small globe that stood near one of the windows that was being spun by one of the students, a spell book out in the open that contained basic and some advanced charms, and a telescope that was pointing to one of the windows. On the ceiling is a reflection of the night sky, even during the day you can still see the stars and galaxies moving to and away from each other.

There is a large room that connects to the common room that serves as a library. Although smaller, it is said to have almost just as many books as the main library, but people doubt that. In the middle of the common room are a few tables that students can sit at and discuss with friends or work on their homework. On the right side of the room sat a few sapphire sofas detailed with bronze work. A few pillows with the Ravenclaw emblem were placed ever so neatly upon the sofas.

The dorms were located behind an opening in the wall that was guarded by a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. On the left were the boy dorms and on the right were the girl dorms.

You, along with Melissa and Azalea, headed up to the girl dorms and found a vacant room, well at least you were thinking it was vacant.

Inside stood a lanky girl, blonde hair that stopped right at her shoulders and fair skin that looked like it was slightly sunburned.

When hearing the door to the room open, she turned around in surprise, her blue eyes danced from one person to the next.

“Are you guys planning on staying here?” She asked.

“Well there are three free beds, so I will be staying here, not sure about you two.” Azalea picked up her luggage and threw it onto one of the empty beds. Her form being absorbed into the sheets of the bed as she laid down.

“I hope you don’t mind us being your potential roommates.” Melissa walked towards another bed and set her things down and sat on the mattress as she unpacked a few of her things.

“Oh, not at all! I just didn’t know people were going to come in so quickly,” The girl looked embarrassed, her clothes were scattered all over one of the beds and floor, “I’ll have my area cleaned up as soon as possible.” She scampered off and started to put her clothes into the drawers that were next to her bed.

“I’m Naomi, by the way, Naomi Stems.”

All three of you introduced yourselves after she did and talked through the night as you unpacked your luggage and put your things away. Naomi brought up that her mom was American, and her dad is from England. She almost ended up going to Ilvermorny, but her dad insisted that she go to Hogwarts because it was one of the best wizarding schools in the world.

The four of you talked through the rest of the day, and without knowing it, the sun was already setting outside.

Melissa had taken out her wand and was demonstrating a spell she had learned in one of her dad's grimoires. It was a small shocking jinx, when cast, would send a spark flying to the person it was aimed at and slightly shock them. She had tried it on her younger siblings, who all cried when she was successful.

She cast the jinx, and it went towards you, stinging your wrist. It hadn’t hurt that bad,, but it still stung, you were laughing as you rubbed the area in which it had hit. Whilst rubbing, your heart stopped, the bracelet that your dad had given you was missing.

Quickly standing up from your bed, you were undressing your bed of its sheets and rampaging through your luggage trying to find it.

When the other girls tried to ask what was wrong, you simply told them that your bracelet was missing, and when they offered their help you said no.

Instead, you told them that you would retrace your steps since you got to Hogwarts and try to find it.

Leaving the common room, you headed out of the Ravenclaw tower and back to the corridors.

Walking to and from all the places you had visited, trying to think where you could have misplaced the small piece of jewelry.

‘Could it be on the Hogwarts express?’ the thought made your blood go cold, from what you could remember from your conversation with your dad, he said to never lose it, and here you are, a few hours later.

You reassured yourself by saying that you had it on during the sorting hat ceremony, you felt it on your wrist, so it must be somewhere in Hogwarts.

Would asking a professor be appropriate? Was there a lost and found system in Hogwarts? Would they even care if you lost your bracelet, it was muggle jewelry?

Trailing on the outskirts of the castle, you had no luck finding the bracelet. The sun was almost gone, only a few flickers of it’s light paved along the floor. Night was setting in, and you didn’t have much time left.

Even if you did have time, finding a small bracelet in a place as big as this would seem impossible.

On the verge of giving up, you began walking back to the castle. Maybe you could tell your dad that someone stole it while you were on the train?

Walking back in defeat, you were suddenly stopped when you heard a distant hissing sound.

Thinking it was just your imagination, you continued on your journey, but it happened again.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you turned your feet towards the source of the noise and tread along the grassy path as you made your way to a small area that was covered by trees.

You hide yourself behind a tree and peeked to see what was going on. Nearby, there was a boy kneeling down and holding his hand out to a snake. You watched him in action, he was doing what seemed like the impossible, he was speaking with the snake.

Both of them hissed back and forth at each other

Was speaking to animals common in the wizarding world? Your father never told you anything about something like that. Even someone like Newt Scamander, a famous Magizoologist, wasn't able to talk to animals directly.

The snake was slowly inching towards the boy's hand, and that's when you noticed something. Your eyes opened wide as you saw that the snake was gripping with its tail. Your bracelet was in the scaly grasps of the snake!

The gasp that came from your mouth was too loud, it alerted both the snake and the boy of your presence.

When he turned, and you saw his face, you recognized it. It was that Tom Riddle boy from the ceremony.

He stared at you for a few seconds before asking, “What do you want?”

There was no point in hiding behind a tree anymore, stepping out from behind your hiding spot you trailed carefully as you approached them.

“Funny story actually, the snake you were hissing at, it’s holding my bracelet.” you tried to act nonchalant as possible, but merlin your heart was beating like you were running miles.

The snake in question was not small, it was quite large, actually.

It had bright yellow eyes with black corneas, it was a dark brown to black color, with orange markings on its scales.

The boy, or rather Tom, looked back at the snake and noticed the bracelet, “It belongs to you?”

You nodded in agreement, if he was speaking with the snake, could he possibly have the bracelet returned to you safe and sound?

That’s what you were hoping, at least.

Your hopes were cut short when the snake slithered past him and towards you, making your heartbeat that much faster. Had the snake sensed your fear and taken you as a threat? First time at Hogwarts and your journey was about to be cut short by a snake of all things.

Stepping backwards, you tried to distance yourself, but this only made the snake move faster.

And as if an unlucky presence was controlling you, a stone had just magically conjured itself behind you. Was it magic? Or was it your mind that was too focused on the snake to realize that you had something behind you that would undoubtedly lead to you being eaten that much quicker.

Falling onto your bottom, the snake took the opportunity and lunged towards you, causing you to hold your breath as it came, but it had stopped.

When you finally regained your conscience of the situation, you realized that Tom had hissed something to the snake, making it stop right in front of your legs.

Tom walked towards the snake and grabbed the bracelet that was entrapped between its tail, examined it and handed it back to you.

You reached for the bracelet and stood up, legs slightly shaking at the realization that the snake was still next to you, but not for long.

Tom walked away from you, and the snake followed, vanishing into the distance.

Once you had caught your breath, you yelled with all the voice you had left in you, “Thank you!”

He didn’t turn around, he just kept walking, and you did too, back to your dorm.

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #hogwarts #harry potter #voldemort #daddy voldy #tom riddle fanfiction #King of Hearts

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god-of-dust · 3 years

Text

after much deliberation, i decided to post what i wrote of chapter 2 and 3 of Trick Me here. this will probably never end up on ao3 because of Reasons, but someone might enjoy reading it and i definitely enjoy the validation. (also, leaving this to rot in my folder seems like a waste.)

this is rated T, no particular warnings apply besides tom’s occasional murderous thoughts.

-----

There’s no sign of Potter. Figures. Tom glares at the suit of armour as if it’s the one meant to carry the blame for this situation.

Disillusionment Charm firmly in place, he leans on the rough stone wall and resigns himself to wait.

“You’re early. Why am I not surprised?”

In a split second, Tom turns in the direction of the voice and points his wand towards... the empty corridor?

Then Potter’s head—only his head—emerges from thin air.

“Jumpy, too. Again, not surprised,” Potter says, smirking. Then he moves, revealing the rest of his body and the rippling fabric of a cloak.

An Invisibility Cloak. No wonder Potter can get wherever he wants without getting caught. “Where did you get that?” Tom asks, envy colouring every word. That kind of Cloak is worth thousands of Galleons, which is more money than Tom has ever possessed in his entire life.

The things Tom could do with one... he’d have no need for permission to slide beyond the wards of the forbidden section of the library. While certainly tame compared to what a collection from a Dark pureblood family would hold, there are also many old books there that Tom has been dying to get his hands on since he’s seen their titles and felt the power they contained.

“Family heirloom,” Potter says with a shrug.

Of course Potter has a family that provides for him, and of course he has the gall to shrug, like it’s absolutely normal to carry around an object this valuable and use it to go to the Quidditch pitch at night. It’s maddening, to witness this utter lack of ambition in someone who has so much at his disposal and wastes it so pitifully.

He reaches out to touch the fabric. It’s soft and perfect, spells woven so beautifully that it appears not to be enchanted at all. He refuses to believe that this Potter is the one who cast them. “What kind of spells does your family use to prevent the magic from fading? How frequently do you have to refresh them?”

Potter only smiles and shakes his head. “You and Hermione would be amazing together if you just stopped being an arse to her.”

Tom glares at him. His thoughts on that particular topic must be crystal clear, because Potter laughs that full-bellied laugh of his. “You haven’t answered my question,” Tom insists.

“Do you want to stand in the corridor all night discussing my cloak? I thought we had Quidditch to play.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tom says: “Fine.”

“Get under here, then,” Potter beckons, holding a side of the cloak open for Tom to slip under and cover himself.

Sliding in the offered space, Tom instantly becomes very aware of how close they have to stay for them both to be concealed. Wonderful, he thinks, just wonderful. Just what I needed: more contact with him.

He lets Potter lead the way outside; after a bit of fumbling, they find a rhythm that allows them to walk in sync without constantly bumping into each other’s shoulder.

“Thank Merlin you’re shorter than Ron. His feet try to peek out all the time, it’s an absolute nightmare.”

Are his friends all he can talk about? Tom vaguely wonders, before noticing the route they’re taking. “The Quidditch pitch is the other way.”

“We’re not going to the pitch,” Potter replies.

Tom stops in his tracks, making the cloak tangle around Potter’s form; unsurprisingly, it only takes a moment for the miraculous Golden Boy to recover his balance. Tom, voice strained with the effort to keep it under control, hisses: “If you’re trying to trick me, Potter, I swear—”

“I’m not,” Potter interrupts. “The pitch is too open and couples go there to shag all the time, so the chances of someone seeing us are too high. I’m taking you to a place only I and my closest friends know about.”

Again with his friends. “Are you really so arrogant as to believe you’re the only one that knows anything about Hogwarts?”

This time, Potter is the one who stills abruptly. He turns to face Tom, noses almost touching under the cloak, eyes ablaze with an emotion that Tom has never seen on him: genuine, unfiltered anger. “Listen, Riddle. I offered my help, but what I didn’t offer was being target practice for your fucking abrasiveness. You want to learn Quidditch? I can teach you. You want to act like a bastard? Go do that somewhere else, because I’m not afraid to punch you in the face if you insist on constantly accusing me of imaginary crimes.”

“As if I’m not able to defend myself from your punches,” Tom snarls.

Potter’s eyes narrow. “Were you even listening to me?”

There’s nothing stopping Tom from hexing Potter into the next century; nothing, except for the fact that he’d be expelled and then the whole Potter clan would ensure that he’d rot in Azkaban for an indeterminate amount of years. Right now, it seems like a minor price to pay.

He keeps his twitching fingers away from his wand. He needs to hold himself in check if he wants to avoid Potter’s suspicion. After a steadying breath, he says evenly: “I was. My words were... out of line. I apologise.”

Silence stretches while Potter stares at him. Then he turns on his heels, facing away, and they resume their walking.

It takes them a few minutes to reach the boundary of looming trees that students are supposed to never cross. “Is this secret place of yours really inside the Forest?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m reasonably sure that no one else has discovered it. A wrong turn would take them either into an Acromantula nest or in centaur territory,” Potter explains, navigating with sure steps amidst trunks and twigs and weeds and bushes as if he owns the place.

Both options are incredibly dangerous, for many different reasons. Not even the Headmaster has jurisdiction over the creatures in the Forest, and any reckless student who wanders too far is responsible for their own fate. Over the years, Tom has done a little exploring of his own to gather herbs, shed fur and other potion ingredients, but he never went as deep inside as wherever Potter is taking them now. “How did you discover it, then?” Tom asks while memorising the convoluted trail so that he’ll be able to return later. The potions he could brew with even a small vial of Acromantula venom, or some eggs... he has to find out more about those supposedly wrong turns.

“I followed my nose,” Potter says with a mischievous smirk, previous anger washed away like a leaf in a river. “And perhaps I had a bit of help.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m not going to divulge my secrets to anyone who asks... besides, you’re smart enough; perhaps with time you’ll figure it out on your own.”

Focus still firmly placed on their surroundings, Tom ignores the compliment. He has no use for Potter’s pretense.

A large clearing suddenly materialises before them, encircled by towering trees whose foliage forms a protective half-dome high over their heads. Ancient magic caresses Tom’s skin, making him shiver with anticipation. There’s a circular area in the center, large enough to hold a dozen people, empty of any grass or stone; Tom is certain that someone has built it that way on purpose. He steps closer, prudent and fascinated in equal measure. “What is this place?” he wonders, eyes wide and searching as he studies the stone while taking in the feeling of rightness and inspiration the space emanates.

“Somewhere where we can have all the privacy we want,” Potter says lightly as he slides off the cloak from their shoulders. To him, this secret spot humming with magic that vibrates in Tom’s blood and bones must be just another day, just another priceless thing dropped on his lap that he wields without a care.

After enchanting a few Lumos spheres to hover around them, Potter extracts a small object from his pocket, lays it on the even ground and enlarges it with a wave of his wand, revealing it to be a trunk. Then he points to a twisted root that peeks out from the soil and transfigures it into three Quidditch hoops, about three meters high.

“I assume you know about Quidditch roles and rules even if you’ve never played, correct?”

“Yes.” Tom’s skimmed through a Quidditch book, if only not to be completely unprepared when it came to playing his part in this charade. He will carry his plan forward and rip the rug from under Potter’s feet, even if it involves studying a few tedious rules of a tedious sport.

“So, you can probably imagine that every role requires different skills, which is why we’ll explore every one of them and gradually build up your stamina and reflexes while you discover what you’re naturally good at.” He scratches at his head contemplatively. “When was the last time you rode a broom?”

“First year flying classes. I was average at the basics and never tried anything more elaborate.” Tom isn’t eager to recall most of those memories because, in truth, it had been humiliating to realise how far behind his peers he was. Unlike them, he’d never had a broom of his own to practice and his confidence had faltered when he needed it the most. The broom’s magic had caught on his hesitation and thus his performance had been lukewarm at best.

“Yeah, I can imagine it wasn’t pleasing for you. Hermione was the same. You really can’t stand it when you don’t excel at something, huh?”

“I doubt anyone enjoys the feeling of being incompetent.”

“Good point,” Potter admits, “but that’s not the attitude you need right now. You always have to start from somewhere and build from there, even if that starting point isn’t as glorious as you’d like.” He squats to open the trunk; it contains a clearly well-loved yet also well-kept set of Quidditch balls.

Tom eyes suspiciously the Bludgers struggling against the chains holding them in place.

“Since we’re starting from the basics, tonight we’re both going to play Chasers, which means that we’ll pass the Quaffle between us and do our best to score through the goals. Of course, there’s more to being a Chaser than this, but it will be enough for now. Before that, though, I want to see you on a broom.”

“I don’t have one. I presumed we’d use one of the school brooms,” Tom says, crossing his arms, mild irritation colouring his tone.

Unbothered, Potter reaches again into his pocket to produce two shrunken brooms. “I brought my Nimbus. It’s very good, especially for a beginner, with quick responses and great stability.”

He holds out his hand and Tom takes the now appropriately sized broom. “...Thank you.”

“Wow, you’re really making an effort into being polite. I appreciate that,” Potter says, apparently pleased. “But now, Riddle, show me how you ride.”

There’s nothing in Potter’s smile and in that particular phrasing that Tom could possibly care for. He straddles the broom and pushes himself to hover in mid-air, one meter from the ground and then one more; feeling how precarious and uncertain his posture is, he does his best to correct it.

“Good. You don’t seem to be struggling much. Are you afraid of heights?”

Tom shoots him a venomous look. “No.”

“That’s one less thing we have to worry about, then.” Potter jumps on his broom and rises too, graceful as a phoenix. Bastard. “Let’s try some loops.”

Tom nods and watches as Potter demonstrates a few simple figures: circle, spiral, figure-eight. They seem easy enough, but when Tom tries to follow Potter’s directions his broom moves in shaky zig-zags instead of the smooth curves he expects it to perform.

“This broom isn’t working,” Tom snarls. He looks at Potter, who’s certainly dying to make fun of him... only to find no trace of sadistic glee on his expression.

Potter circles around him, examining him from head to toe with furrowed brows, almost hawk-like in his focus. “You’re clenching your thighs and hands too hard. The broom reads that as a sign for ‘straight line’ and ‘speed’, and right now that’s not your objective. For curves like these, you have to flow with the movement and lean into the direction you want without overbalancing.” His posture is relaxed, bordering on lazy, as he flies in a large, slow circle for Tom’s sake. “Like this.”

Tom imitates him as best as he can, loosening his grip. “What if I want to achieve a fast curve?”

“Fast curves are more advanced. We’ll try those later.”

Tom tries again with a figure-eight, and he’s surprised when he finds that the broom’s following the path he intended with increasing ease.

“See? Way better,” Potter beams. He looks like he’s genuinely enjoying this.

After a few minutes of loops, Tom’s acquired a mild amount of confidence in his form; at least the feeling that he’ll tip over every time he steers the broom has lessened until it’s nearly gone. Seemingly satisfied, Potter instructs him on how to repeat the same figures with a single-handed grip, then handless, as he explains: “You’ll need your hands free for the Quaffle.”

Even while going through boring drills at this insignificant height, there’s an undeniable thrill to flying, to acquiring control over something as elusive as air. “One day,” he declares, “I’m going to invent broomless flying.” Perhaps a variation of Wingardium Leviosa, combined with a Feather-Light Charm... yes, he’ll do it, and succeed.

“That would be amazing. And honestly, if anyone could do that it would be you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tom scoffs, close to amused. Does Potter really think that compliments will have any effect on him? Tom’s too acquainted with the subtle art of manipulation to take any of Potter’s amateurish attempts seriously.

Potter rolls his eyes. “It’s not flattery, it’s me making an observation. Every single person in Hogwarts knows that your knowledge and control over magic are impressive.” Smoothly diving forwards, Potter reaches for the trunk and grabs the Quaffle inside it.

“Catch!” he says, and throws the ball at Tom.

Instincts rearing up before he can think, Tom steers sideways to dodge, but he’s too quick, too sudden, the broom refuses to cooperate—fuck, he’s lost his balance, he’s going to slip off and fall on his face like a bloody—

An arm slides around his torso, holding him up. A steady hand over the handle of his broom stops its lurching. Tom is barely breathing, his mind catching up to the fact that he’s not going to become one with the forest soil.

“Shit, Tom, I’m sorry, I thought you were ready, I should have warned you—”

Heart still finding the way back to its regular beat, Tom interrupts Potter’s rambling: “It’s fine. Nothing happened.”

“Well it was a stupid thing to do, and I won’t do it again,” Potter insists, wide eyes painfully green even in the dark.

“Just drop it, will you?” It’s embarrassing enough that he ran away from a Quaffle like it was the Killing Curse; Potter’s self-flagellation is just rubbing more salt on the wound. As if he hasn’t done it on purpose anyway, the fucking prick.

With a sigh, the arm around Tom tightens briefly before Potter releases him. “Do you want to stop? We’ve done a lot already. You’ve been great.”

More useless flattering.

“Let’s try again,” Tom orders. He wants to challenge Potter, confuse him, shock him, give him a lesson that he’ll never forget. The plan to ruin his reputation isn’t enough; the matter has become personal.

Uncertain, Potter nods. This time, when the Quaffle comes towards him Tom catches it, albeit unsteadily. A victorious glint in his eyes, he does his best to throw Potter off-balance by flinging the ball back at him.

The back-and-forth of the Quaffle between them slowly acquires a flow. Potter accepts Tom’s viciousness and in turn pushes Tom’s limits, building his reflexes with progressively more elaborate throws, flying around him in circles like an annoying snidget. Tom fumbles, stumbles, grumbles, but he manages to avoid another fall, and he even scores a few points through the unprotected goals.

By the end of the lesson they’re both sweating—disgusting—and Potter is positively radiating joy.

Tom can’t say the same about himself. His performance’s been nowhere near satisfactory, his dexterity and form nowhere near Potter’s. While he still holds no interest for Quidditch, he also can’t stand the thought that Potter can have this golden opportunity to gloat over him. There’s no way that Tom will accept being considered inferior to anyone.

“So, uh... how was it?” Potter asks once they’ve dismounted, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. It looks like a habit of his.

“You’ve been patient,” Tom concedes. It’s true, at least on the surface: Potter’s been nothing but helpful and tolerant of every mistake, adapting his teaching to Tom’s pace with flawless precision. “I could have done better.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Potter says, “will you stop with the self-deprecation? You’re learning. It’s all part of the process. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Tom hands the Nimbus back to Potter, who’s extinguishing the enchanted lights and reverting the goal posts back to their original shape. “You’ve also seen best, I reckon.”

Potter huffs in annoyance as he takes the broom and stores it away along with the rest of the equipment. “Yes, and it doesn’t matter. This isn’t a competition. The whole point of us being in the middle of the forest instead of the pitch is that you can be away from judgemental eyes, so could you please stop being your own worst critic?”

“We should go.” If Potter considers having standards the same as self-deprecation, then Tom has nothing else to say. “I can find my way back.” He turns to follow the hidden trail that led them here.

“Wait,” Potter says, interrupting Tom as he was about to cast a wordless Disillusionment Charm on himself. “Do you want to do this again? More lessons?”

Does Tom want to? Is the headache of spending time with Potter worth it?

Like a sharp edge, a thorn stuck in his side, Potter’s words echo in his head. This isn’t a competition. But it is, in a way—it’s Tom’s endurance against his desire to chalk up the whole plan as a failure and sweep it under the rug.

And Potter is still an issue—he still needs to go down in flames, and Tom is the one who has to ignite that fire.

He straightens his back. I won’t quit now. “Same time, next Saturday?”

“I’ll be here,” Potter says. It sounds like a promise.

[missing scene with Tom and snake-Harry]

At half past eleven on Saturday, Harry prepares to slip away from the Gryffindor dormitory under his Cloak.

“Ron, hey,” he whispers in the darkness of the dormitory, shaking his friend’s shoulder.

Still more than half-asleep, refusing to open his eyes, Ron mutters, “What?”

“I’m going out, will probably be late again. Don’t wait for me, okay?” He’s a little ashamed of taking advantage of Ron while he’s in this state, knowing that he won’t ask questions.

“Yeah, yeah—g’night, mate,” Ron says, words slurred as the dream world ensnares him again.

Then Harry leaves, sliding through the many corridors of the castle as if he were in his Animagus form, until he crosses the entrance; outside he can run, free, breathing in the cold wind that chills his face and lungs. He feels so light, like the world is full of exciting possibilities, like he’s on the hunt for something marvellous.

Yes, he hates hiding these nighttime escapades from his friends. However, he also loves the secret thrill of this undefined thing he and Tom have, this strange agreement that’s neither friendship nor rivalry, while not being neutral either. He knows, he can see that Tom—and how weird it is, that he already thinks of him as such—still despises him... yet he’s also invested in Harry in a way that goes beyond simple hatred or spite.

He could have used many excuses to get his hands on Harry’s Firebolt and sabotage it. He could have cursed Harry himself, especially with how close they’ve been, and Harry has no doubt that Tom possesses a sizable arsenal of slow-building, undetectable curses that would have sent Harry to his grave with no one the wiser.

But then, how absurd it is that Harry’s still not afraid to know that a part of Tom, a loud and powerful one, would rejoice in his pain and in having caused it?

He’s certain that Tom Riddle’s bite is deadly venomous, and he’s been thirsting for Harry’s blood for a long time. The bane of his existence, indeed.

Yet Harry saw something else during their time together: the fierce competitiveness, the stubbornness, the drive towards excellence, the desire to be greater than anyone... and also the insecurity, the self-loathing, the fear hidden behind harsh perfectionism, the sense of not being enough, of having to push himself harder, of not belonging anywhere, of being unloved and unlovable.

Tom Riddle is human and flawed. And he has bite, yes, but along with the venom comes a blazing fire that he keeps carefully concealed under his detached, polished façade. Harry wants to witness more of that fire, wants to bask in it, wants to revel in the privilege of being the one who can bring it out.

He knows what Tom could do, the potential of his cruelty. However, night after night, he discovers an inescapable curiosity for what Tom will do.

A laughter, full and thrilling, shakes Harry’s body as he skips through the forest, jumping over traitorous roots and avoiding thorn bushes intent on drawing blood.

Tom, of course, has already arrived.

Harry admires the transfigured goal posts, smoother and more symmetrical than how his own half-arsed magic would ever mold them, and thinks, This is going to be fun.

“Eager?” Harry can’t help but tease.

Tom gives him one of his looks. “I don’t like wasting time.”

“Of course. Let’s get to it, then.”

Like last time, Harry offers Tom his Nimbus; they warm up by playing with the Quaffle, letting Tom reacquaint himself with the feeling of flying by revisiting a few of the trickier turns. Tom’s control over the borrowed broomstick is still shaky and hesitant, which he clearly hates with a passion, but he’s also improved considerably in a small amount of time.

This may be the one thing in which Tom Riddle isn’t a natural. However, for some reason he’s actually putting in an effort to learn, which leaves Harry wondering why. Merlin knows Tom’s mind works in mysterious ways, and even after spending a few nights with him as a snake and witnessing his unfiltered rants Harry’s not closer to understanding his convoluted reasoning.

“Tonight I think you could try your hand at playing Keeper.”

Tom, always straight to the point, immediately flies towards the transfigured hoops and circles around them. “On a practical level, how is it different from playing Chaser, anyway? The ball is the same, it’s just a matter of catching it as we’ve already been doing.”

Harry feels an appraising smile rise on his lips. “Interesting question,” he replies, turning the Quaffle in his hands. “I believe the main difference is in the freedom of movement. As a Chaser, you can follow the trajectory and position of the Quaffle and other players in the way that’s most convenient for you, while as a Keeper you have to stay in a confined area, since leaving the goals unguarded equals failure. You need sharper eyes and quicker reflexes, which is why I considered it more advanced.”

“But the smaller area should make it easier, not harder,” Tom says with a small frown.

“Theory is theory, practice is practice. You’ll see by yourself.”

“Let’s begin, then.” He looks impatient, and Harry privately thinks that it’s kind of adorable. Perhaps my love for Quidditch is rubbing off on him. Or perhaps he’s just that competitive.

So Harry begins throwing and Tom begins to understand Harry’s point as the Quaffle slides under his guard and passes easily through the hoops time after time. With sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, eyes aflame and gritted teeth, Tom struggles to prevent Harry’s craftiness from allowing him to score yet another point. He’s only managed to catch five out of twenty-four throws.

“You have to keep in mind that I’m not an actual Chaser myself,” Harry says, immensely enjoying the murderous look on Tom’s face. “This could be way worse.”

Tom stills, holding the ball as if he wants to strangle it. “You do so love to make fun of me,” he snarls. “Idiot Tom Riddle, who’s never learned to play Quidditch, who can’t even catch a bloody Quaffle. Must be so nice to sit on your throne and laugh at my pathetic attempts.”

The aggressiveness in Tom’s tone makes Harry feel all kinds of ruffled, and perhaps he should be keeping his mouth shut, but when has he ever listened to reason? So he says, “I thought you had more spine than this, for someone who sits on his throne and laughs at others all the time.”

“What?” Tom says, eyes narrow and voice sharp as a potioneer’s blade.

“You heard me. Is it fun, being an arsehole to Hermione and who knows how many others? How does it feel when you are the one whose efforts feel inadequate, Tom?”

“It’s Riddle, to you.”

“Well then, Riddle: how does it feel? And mind you, I was teasing you as I would with a friend, but I could also be cruel and cutting like you. I could get on the same level of ‘polite bastard’ you seem to revel in.”

The look Tom gives him is utterly blank, which could be seen as an improvement over being murderous, or could also mean that he’s so much more murderous than usual that he’s already on the phase where he’s choosing how to dispose of Harry’s body.

Harry sighs. This is all pointless. Tom hates him, will always hate him, and they’re just dancing around each other waiting for the perfect opportunity to... what? Tom is most likely waiting for Harry to lower his guard enough for him to strike undetected, but what does Harry want? What’s his excuse for being here?

Perhaps this time his curiosity is better left alone.

“Forget what I just said. I’ve been an arsehole,” Harry says. “We don’t have to do this if you’re so frustrated it makes you miserable.”

“Is this what you think of me? That I go around lording my knowledge over people?” Tom doesn’t sound angry—he just stares at Harry like he’s speaking in a different language.

“From what I’ve seen of you... well, yes,” Harry says, uncertain. He feels like this whole conversation is balancing on a very delicate thread. “It’s not overt, but you do act superior and rub your grades on other people’s faces, with those condescending smirks and such... and I don’t believe that you don’t do that on purpose.”

“I—do that,” Tom admits quietly, almost disturbed by the revelation. Even more interesting, he appears to be honestly considering it. “Perhaps... it’s a bit excessive.”

“We all know you’re the most skilled student in this school anyway. It’s not just about grades—you clearly have a touch, a passion for magic that can’t be found in books and that most of us can’t hope to replicate.”

Tom’s eyes catch Harry’s then, a blazing intensity passing between them that makes Harry feel… funny. “You’re telling the truth. You do think that.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not coming from you.”

Harry frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You—” Tom pauses, raking a hand through his already mussed-up hair. He looks more unbuttoned than Harry’s ever seen him. “I’m not sure.”

“That you wanted to murder me in my sleep, probably,” Harry says unthinkingly. He knows that Tom has never been confused on his opinion of Harry; he’s heard enough dramatics when Tom’s spoken to him as Ezra, long tales on how insufferable Harry is, and how much of an attention-seeker, how brainless and privileged, and so on.

Surprisingly, Tom laughs. It’s brief, blink-and-you’ll miss it, but it’s happened.

Tom Riddle has laughed.

“I might have considered it, yes,” Tom confesses, not even remotely apologetic.

Harry is shocked and more charmed than he’d like to admit. “I don’t know what to do with this sudden honesty.”

Tom shakes his head, and he’s still smiling—not smirking, but smiling—and he looks as unbalanced as Harry feels. “Neither do I.” He locks eyes with Harry, and for a few brief seconds there’s that intensity again; then he breaks the spell to Accio the Quaffle from where he’d dropped it. “Let me try again.”

“Sure,” Harry says, quietly thrilled.

[missing scene with Tom and snake-Harry]

The trunk containing Potter’s Quidditch equipment sits on the forest floor, lid open. Tom studies the set of chained Bludgers and lifts an eyebrow. “Last time you said that in this lesson I was supposed to ‘learn my way around a Beater’s bat’.” The unspoken question of why Potter hasn’t handed him any bat yet hangs in the air.

“Yeah, I said that, but then I realised that Bludgers might not be the best idea right now,” Potter admits, shrugging. “You’re probably already familiar with how they work from a spectator’s point of view, but this is another instance of theory being very different from practice.”

“In short, you believe I’m not able to undertake this particular task,” Tom says. Of course Potter wouldn’t consider him worthy enough for the scary, angry balls, not when Tom still struggles with inconsistent balance and shaky steering at the best of times. Furthermore, Potter’s famed superior abilities allow him to keenly judge the depth of Tom’s incompetency and find him wanting.

Unimpressed by Tom’s logic, Potter rolls his eyes. “Is it necessary for you to be so dramatic?”

“Don’t bother with lying. We both know it’s the truth,” Tom insists. He has no patience for this display of futile denial.

“It’s a distorted version of the truth, so you can beat yourself up for not being perfect enough, or some crap along those lines. Yes, it’s probably not safe for you to engage with Bludgers yet. No, it doesn’t mean that you’re useless of whatever you’re telling yourself.”

“You seem awfully confident in your ability to interpret my thoughts.” Out of ingrained habit, Tom reinforces his Occlumency shields. While it’s unlikely that Potter has the wits and finesse to master the delicate art of Legilimency, he’s also revealed himself to be unpredictable in many occasions. Better safe than sorry.

“Maybe you’re just obvious,” Potter says dismissively, before tapping his wand on the small set of chains that holds the Golden Snitch in place at the center of the trunk. The ball springs free, only for Potter to catch it immediately with practiced ease and a gleam in his eyes that promises nothing good for Tom. “Tonight we’re Seeking.”

“Will the Snitch’s movements be restricted to this clearing, or will we have to follow its path amongst the trees?”

“Only the clearing,” Potter confirms with a small smile.

Tom lets his gaze roam to evaluate the length and breadth of the space. The shiny surface of the ball would be easily discernible against the dark background. “Seems feasible.”

The smile on Potter’s face grows wider. “Let’s begin, then.”

What followed were blurred hours of Tom fumbling his way through sharp turns, desperately trying to keep himself from losing his grip, then losing it anyway at every attempt to catch the blasted ball, then trying to regain his balance, then remembering to loosen his posture, then failing at commanding his limbs to go on a single direction, thus dipping downwards at uncontrollable speed until he would have surely eaten grass if not for Potter’s steadying hand.

Once they finally touch the ground, Tom flings away Potter’s broom, rage painting his world in red. He doesn’t give a single fuck about the bloody stick of wood and the bloody Snitch, he’s bruised all over the place and he’s sick of this, he won’t stand a single second of humiliating himself any further, he’s utterly and completely done. “How do you fucking do this?” Tom roars. “Why would you willingly subject yourself to this torture?”

“Uh, T—Riddle—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Tom goes on, ignoring him. “Why I even considered to accept this whole ordeal as if it deserves any of my time.”

“Riddle, I told you, this isn’t an obligation,” Potter says. “We can stop, it’s okay.” He’s dismounted too, and he stands there, slowly and cautiously inching towards Tom.

‘It’s okay’—as if Tom needs to be soothed or, worse, coddled. The infantilising undertones make Tom want to tear Potter to shreds. There’s a Cruciatus on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be unleashed, waiting for him to reap Potter’s pain for witnessing Tom making a fool of himself and daring to treat him like a volatile child. I doubt he’ll be so entertained when he’s contorting on the ground, screaming his lungs out, he thinks savagely, extracting his wand from its holster.

As the first syllable of the curse leaves Tom’s mouth, red light charging on the tip of his wand, Potter is fast—he crouches and rolls away from its trajectory, touching down over the stone in the middle of the clearing and drawing up a Shield Charm strong enough that Tom can hear it crackling like lightning. “What the fuck, Riddle?” he snaps, but there’s no surprise or fear on his face, only the sharp focus of a seasoned duellist.

Unfortunately for Potter, a mere Shield Charm isn’t enough to deter Tom; many Dark curses are designed to eat through them like a parchment set aflame. He smiles, all teeth, and Potter seems to sense his intentions, eyes narrowing.

Then the unthinkable happens.

Potter casts non-verbally at the same time Tom’s spell almost strikes home; the jets of their magic meet in midair and twine together in a single stream of pure gold light. Birdsong erupts, filling the space with an otherworldly melody, while luminous threads of magic are birthed from the stream like a spiderweb, surrounding Tom and Harry in a dome until the forest disappears beyond the shimmering brilliance.

What in Salazar’s name is this?

The entirety of Tom’s world is reduced to this moment in time, to Potter’s green eyes reflecting the light. Mesmerised, Tom watches as beads of light appear in the stream of their magic. His wand vibrates and he clutches it harder; the beads gets closer and closer to its tip, and Tom feels the light whispering at him to accept sanctuary in its song, to let it wash away his anger, to cease fighting, to surrender, and his whole body becomes weightless, being gently lifted from the ground by this invisible, absurd, liminal force—

And suddenly it ends.

The light disappears, leaving them to adjust to the night again: the link has been broken. Tom aches for it, deep in his bones. He can already tell how the echoes of that melody will haunt him for many nights to come.

He and Potter stare at each other, feet back on the ground, eyes wide, breathless and at a loss for words.

“What was that?” Tom breathes. “What did you do?”

Potter shakes his head, bewildered. “I have no clue. I just—stopped it.”

“You stopped it?”

“I think so.” Potter crawls towards a point to his side, scanning the grass back and forth until he recovers his wand from where he must have lost it when he interrupted the contact.

“Why?” Tom asks, unable to keep the word inside his still pounding chest. Why would you commit such a blasphemous act?

“Because—whatever it was, I’m not sure either of us was prepared for it.” He’s holding Tom’s gaze, straight on, in a way that reaches deep under his skin.

Unnerved, Tom skims the surface of Potter’s mind and finds a confusing jumble of... something. Too many somethings, all swirling in dizzying patterns. Wonder, doubt, curiosity, wariness, joy—all underlined by the same pure bliss that has enveloped Tom under the dome.

This magic is messing with my senses. “Don’t speak to me ever again. We’re done,” Tom says, with as much vicious strength as he can muster, rising on wobbly legs.

Potter sits in the grass and says nothing, making no move to stop him.

Tom can feel the weight of his gaze all the way to the castle. Once he reaches the dungeons, the Slytherin common room and finally his own bed, he realises how not a single part of his plan has worked out as expected.

His wand, who’s been a faithful companion since he was eleven, has acted in a way that was absolutely mystifying. Still shivering with the residue of that golden magic that doesn’t let go of his limbs, Tom performs a series of spells only to have the proof of what he already expected: the wand responds as usual and nothing is out of the ordinary—not now, not anymore. But if that unreal... thing wasn’t a malfunction, or caused by a curse, then what was it? He’s never heard of anything like it.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Tom’s out of his depth.

He thought he’d ruin Potter’s reputation, only to end up tired, bruised, with his magic acting up unpredictably and his thoughts scrambled beyond recognition. He thought he would teach Potter a lesson, and yet he lost himself in birdsong and light, giving away his power like an utter fool, until Potter was the one to separate them. And isn’t it funny that the reckless Gryffindor poster boy was the one who acted appropriately, while Tom has been too weak, too compromised? Weak, his mind provides.

How could it all have gone so wrong? How could Tom have lost the guidance of his own compass so completely?

For the briefest of moments, he wishes for Ezra’s presence; the snake has no interest in what he calls ‘complicated human affairs’, and his snark would help to keep Tom grounded. And isn’t this another sign of Tom’s weakness, to need another—an animal—to recover his balance?

He rubs his eyes, feeling both keyed-up and drained to the bone. A restless night awaits him.

However, he refuses to surrender to the hold of these thoughts. It’s completely useless to wallow in defeat and waste any more time contemplating this utter failure. Whatever happens next, whatever stunt Potter pulls that could interfere with Tom’s position in Slytherin, he’ll deal with it. Tom is cunning and capable enough to adapt to what fate has in store for him, as he’s always done.

He digs into his potion stash for a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Potter can rot.

Harry crosses for the millionth time the opening sentence of his Potions essay. His parchment has turned into a blot of ink and he sighs, his wand to vanish the black stain. Then, he stares at the blank scroll, mind empty of coherent thoughts, unable to string together the meaning of a single line in the open book before him.

“I need help,” he finally says to Hermione, almost begging. They’re sitting, along with Ron, in their usual corner of the library. “I know, I know, I should write my own essay, but this isn’t—Hermione?” Harry hesitates, as he sees her casting a sturdy Muffliato around their table, the usual sign that a serious conversation was about to happen. Harry shoots a questioning look at Ron, but for once his friend appears to be on the same page as Hermione, leaving Harry out of the loop.

“Harry,” Hermione begins, with a concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows, “what’s going on? You’ve been distracted and spacing out for days, like you can’t focus on anything. It’s the third time you’ve asked for my help this week—even with difficult assignments, it’s not usually that bad.” She’s studying Harry’s face like she would a particularly complex Arithmancy equation, looking for the familiar tells that will betray his secrets.

Even though he knows perfectly well that she’s right, and that he did in fact intend to have one of those conversations, Harry protests on principle: “It’s Potions, you know how much I struggle with it! These essays are an absolute nightmare!”

“Yeah, mate, but maybe it would help if you read from the Potions book, instead of the Defense one,” Ron suggests, tapping his index finger on Harry’s book.

Harry stares at him, mild horror creeping up on his face, before letting his eyes fall on the book. He closes it and, sure enough, the battered cover doesn’t lie. “Fuck,” he says, defeated. He pushes up his glasses to rub at his face. “No wonder it didn’t make sense.”

Unlike Hermione, Ron doesn’t seem bothered by Harry’s behaviour; he shakes his head in playful disbelief, but he seems more curious than worried, which is relieving.

“So, what is it?” Hermione says.

Here it is, the moment Harry’s been dreading since this whole ordeal with Tom has started: telling the truth to his friends.

Like many other times, he doesn’t have a proper explanation for acting the way he does; in true Marauder fashion, he’d just acted on impulse, following the trail of fun. Unlike those other times, however, an explanation will be needed at some point.

This doesn’t mean that he isn’t also feeling quite defensive about this particular issue. After all, it’s not just about him; this is Tom’s business as much as it’s Harry’s, and Hermione won’t be happy to discover that her rival is involved. Harry still isn’t prepared for the fuss she will undoubtedly kick up.

And of course, predictable as the sunrise, Ron asks: “Is this because of whatever you’ve been doing when you sneak out at night?”

“Why are you being so secretive, Harry?” Hermione questions, leaning forwards and lowering her voice even though the Muffling Charm protects them from eavesdroppers. “Are you doing something that could get you expelled?”

“Hermione, I do things that could get me thrown in Azkaban on the regular.” Like being an unregistered Animagus, for instance.

And isn’t that another guilt-flavoured train of thought? The list of people that will need an explanation does include Tom himself. He’s warming up to Ezra in a way that he would have never allowed if he were aware of who hid behind the snake’s form. Yeah, Harry can’t say he’s looking forward to confessing that particular secret to Tom. After all, how can Harry admit to him that’s listened to his unfiltered rants and musings without Tom murdering him in cold blood? The Slytherin is already mistrustful enough, and lying by omission is one of the most dangerous things Harry could do, especially considering that Tom is a Legilimens.

Hermione waves an impatient hand to dismiss Harry’s point, snapping his attention back to the conversation. “You know what I mean, and you’re deflecting.”

Harry begins to open his mouth, but before he’s figured out what he’s going to say Hermione interrupts him again, voice gone soft: “Did you break up with your partner?”

“My what?” Again, Harry looks at Ron and finds none of the confusion he expects on his face.

“You have been disappearing a lot,” Ron offers with an half-shrug. “It was the most obvious conclusion.”

Harry gapes, stunned by the turn the conversation has taken. “Did you two really think that I have a secret lover? Why in the name of Merlin would I hide that?” If only they knew who my supposed ‘lover’ is. And isn’t that a thought, Tom being anyone’s lover, and Harry’s lover to boot? It’s too absurd, too unthinkable to even consider.

Yes, Harry can admit that Tom is handsome, and that he certainly doesn’t lack admirers; even with his poor eyesight, he’s not that ignorant of the Slytherin’s charms. However, Tom’s usual regal demeanour creates a distance between him and the rest of the world. Like a marble statue, Tom Riddle is meant to be admired while staying unreachable, and Harry can’t imagine him letting his shields down for anyone.

Except he did with me. Harry has been a witness to Tom’s temper, his cruelty, his smile. As obstinate as Tom has been with his will to drag Harry into the mud and his constant misinterpretation of Harry’s motives, he’s also let Harry see unflattering, vulnerable sides of him that many others would kill for.

How did that happen? What does this say about us?

“You’re spacing out again,” Hermione sighs. “But if it’s not a secret lover, then what is this all about?”

“I’ve been seeing someone. Not in that way,” he adds, before they can say anything. “But we kind of, uh, had a disagreement, and our magic reacted strangely and I was wondering if you knew something about it that I don’t.”

At the mention of an intellectual debate Hermione perks up, her posture instantly straightening. Harry tells them an abridged version of what happened in the clearing, glossing over the more incriminating details that could reveal Tom’s identity or the reason behind their fight.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve read about something like this before,” Hermione says, tapping her index finger to her lips. She bends to the side to rummage inside her magically expanded bag where she keeps a ridiculous amount of books—though Harry has to admit that, on occasions like this, having a portable library does come in handy. “I believe it was on a wandlore book I got last year. It’s hard to find any useful information on the subject because wandmaking is passed on through apprenticeship and very few masters have bothered writing down their knowledge, but I lucked on this tome that was gathering dust on a corner at Flourish and Blott’s, I’m fairly sure they didn’t even remember having it—ah, here it is!” she exclaims, showing them an ancient leatherbound volume whose title has faded completely. After a few minutes of leafing through the yellowed pages, she says: “I was right! Priori Incantatem, an extremely rare phenomenon that manifests when two practitioners bearing twin wands—that is, wands with the twin cores—attempt a duel.”

“So my... acquaintance’s wand has a phoenix feather core like mine?”

Hermione studies the book again. “Not just any phoenix feather, apparently. It has to be a feather from the same phoenix as yours, which I guess is why most wands don’t have a twin at all, or never meet their twin.” She lifts her gaze from the page to meet Harry’s eyes with her bright ones. “Harry, who is this person? This could be an amazing opportunity to study something that—”

“I can’t tell you, and they made it very clear that they don’t want me to speak to them ever again,” Harry says. Classes with the Slytherins have been... something. While outwardly nothing had changed between them, as they’d never interacted in the first place, Harry could feel the spiky coldness radiating from Tom as if it were alive and ready for him to try and cross it.

“But mate,” Ron interjects, gesturing vaguely at Harry, “wouldn’t they like to know about this? If my wand started shooting weird golden light during a duel, I’d be freaking out and thinking that my magic isn’t working or something like that.”

“I think they’re perfectly capable of researching this on their own.” Maybe that’s the reason behind their odd connection. Their wands... attract them to each other, or something.

Would Tom even want to know? The truth is... Ron is right. Someone like Tom, who prides himself on knowing everything and always being in control, must have been utterly shaken by his magic going haywire all of a sudden.

Harry’s choice is made.

A week after the last encounter with Potter, Ezra reappears in the dungeons just as Tom’s Prefect rounds come to an end.

Tom wonders at the snake’s ability to be so precise about his routine. Ready to cage his wayward almost-but-not-quite familiar again, this time with no intention of letting go, Tom lifts his wand in lieu of a greeting.

“Put that away, human,” Ezra hisses, and his tone is enough to still Tom’s tongue. He sounds stiff, his muscles tight and struggling against his obvious distress.

Eyes narrowing, Tom asks: “What happened to you?” If someone had dared to hurt his snake...

“Too many questions.”

“That was one question.”

“Pointless details. Follow me,” Ezra commands, before slithering down the dimly lit corridor, wasting no time to check if Tom is going after him.

Tom curses under his breath. Disrespectful, disobedient creature. He casts a silent Disillusionment Charm over himself and trails behind the sinuous shadow; the snake avoids the treacherous staircases, leading Tom behind faded tapestries and secret passages that he’s never encountered before. Spelling away the cobwebs to prevent them from sticking to his skin and hair, Tom finds himself thinking that not even Potter would have discovered these places—then banishes the reminder of Potter’s existence from his head entirely. The bastard doesn’t deserve a single crumb of his attention.

At this point he’s also wondering if Ezra is trying to get him in trouble on purpose. While the snake has never been particularly talkative and often acts oddly even by reptile standards, this mysterious demeanour is unusual and bordering on suspicious.

Ezra halts in front of a familiar, half-open bathroom door, flicking his tongue at the air; then, apparently satisfied, he slides inside.

More and more confused by this bizarre pseudo-adventure, Tom follows.

Once they’re under the greenish, dim light of the Chamber of Secrets, surrounded by snake-decorated pillars that hold up the vast ceiling, Ezra melts into the shadows and disappears from sight. The last shreds of Tom’s patience evaporate. “Ezra, what is going on?” he barely refrains from shouting.

He hears rustling from behind him, and when he turns in the direction of the sound his eyes fall on the pavement. There’s a book in front of him that hadn’t been there before. The cover is clearly old, black and unassuming, but it means very little for Tom. Wary, he extracts his wand. The Chamber is not a place in which one can trust random books appearing out of thin air.

It’s enough to distract him.

“Incarcerous,” a voice says—a treacherous, insufferable voice—and Tom is bound and constricted by ropes of warm magic that bring him to his knees. As if the humiliation wasn’t enough, he watches, powerless, as Potter waltzes in his field of vision and oh-so-casually disarms him.

“You utter bastard,” Tom snarls, like a flesh-eating curse, “release me.” The spell holds strong against his attempts to free himself wandlessly.

With a grin that shows too many teeth, Potter replies airily, “I don’t think I will. We have a lot of things to discuss, you see, and I don’t fancy being hexed.” His gaze turns sharp and he crouches in front of Tom, mockingly. “Besides, you deserve a little taste of your own medicine. Going around caging random snakes? Very rude, Tom.”

“What have you done to my snake?” No ropes will protect Potter from Tom’s ire. His magic is beginning to flare up, warming his skin, ready to set ablaze everything on its path.

Potter feels it, but all he does is sit cross-legged before Tom, unbothered. “Your snake?” he laughs.

“I caught him. He’s mine.”

“Putting me in a glass case and having a few one-sided conversations about how much you hate me is hardly enough to call me yours.”

Tom’s thoughts screech to a halt. The implication behind Potter’s words dawns on him, like curtains closing at the end of a play. It can’t be true, can it? Tom couldn’t have been so foolish—but wasn’t he the one who’s compared Ezra to Potter more than once? Oh, the irony. The cruelty of his misplaced belief that he could be himself with anyone, even an animal.

And then, Potter’s face opens, and his expression morphs into a genuine smile. Something travels down Tom’s spine at the sight. “You’re surprisingly warm, though. And you smell good under that posh cologne,” he says.

“You knew,” Tom says. “You knew all along that I wanted to sabotage you. That I despise you.”

“Yes.”

“You had no right.”

“You put me in a difficult position, Tom. On one hand, I was very aware of the fact that I was taking advantage of you; on the other hand, however... what was I supposed to do? Let you harm me out of the goodness of my heart? I’m not that self-sacrificing.”

#tomarry #tomarrymort #tmrhptmr #fanfic #yay writing #harry potter

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remakethestars · 3 years

Text

RAVENCLAW 💙🦅🤎

Headcanons.

❝Even in the blackness, light can be found. My enemy can be outsmarted.❞

— Alex Hirsch, Journal 3

This is my house, y'all; buckle up!

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, & Slytherin. Headcanon masterlist.

The door'll let you in for witty responses.

We prop it open during exam season, when everyone's coming back from dinner, on party nights, & when no one can solve the riddle.

Questions become more difficult to answer after curfew.

Everyone waits outside & pretends not to know first night until the first-years figure it out.

Today's riddle & answer posted on the back of the door every morning; check before you leave just in case.

Sometimes you find the prefects debating over what the answer is; no one leaves the common room until someone's figured it out, so sometimes, the entirety of Ravenclaw is late to breakfast.

Again, if we absolutely can’t, we’ll prop it open.

If the door’s propped open and you remove the prop, we’ll use the guillotine on you.

Everyone has at least one hill to die on.

There's a podium by the fireplace with a record book on it of all the books in Ravenclaw's library that you can ask for help finding books from (pages flip in their own).

If you’re in a reading slump, describe what you're looking for; we've probably got it!

If you don't like writing & highlighting in the books, it'll disappear while you have it, but everyone's free to mark in them.

So good at reading their own messy notes and the notes their friends wrote they can read a doctor's handwriting.

And there are notes everywhere. As organized as some Raveclaws wish they could be, you can't make notebooks & journals as organized as Google Doc & Word documents. Unless, ya know … someone made a spell for that — hold on, I gotta write that down!

Professors find notes — ideas for spells & potions — on the back of homework & tests. More knowledgeable teachers will add their ideas or advice before handing it back.

Everyone leaves a copy of their favorite book with annotations before they leave seventh year.

There's a coffee/tea cart in the common room.

Hallways to the dorms are covered in graffiti from students long passed.

Dorms branch off based on your year.

Girls can walk into the boy's dorms & vice versa.

All rooms are extended for more space.

Beds are built into the wall like window seats & have bookshelves where the head and footboards should be.

Dark blue curtains can be drawn shut if you're feeling introverted.

Trunks go under the bed, so they're kinda high off the ground.

Cast an extension charm if you’re claustrophobic.

At the end of every year, everyone congregates in the common room, someone casts glisseo on the stairs to Ravenclaw tower, & everyone slides their trunks down (it's called "the trunk shoving").

No one gives a single sh¡t about house points.

Ravenclaw’s are always blowing something up & losing points.

Dramatic about stubbing their toe, but super casual about ending up in the hospital wing because they "wanted to test a hypothesis."

If you have a question or don't understand something, ask it loudly in the common room; someone will undoubtedly answer or direct you to another who can.

Just don't use bad grammar, or sixteen people will correct you in unison. 😅

Learn (a) new language(s) in the common room 20:00–21:00 Mon.–Fri.

Tutoring sessions are in the common room at 21:00–22:00 Mon.–Fri. Or ask for private lessons to work around your schedule.

If a particular teacher's sh¡t, we host a class in the common room after dinner.

Also, there're just classes for random stuff: art, budgeting, codes & code-breaking, cooking, dancing, darning, fencing, ice skating (in the winter months), knot tying, lock picking, makeup, Morse code, muggle martial arts, sewing…

First years are all offered a class on note taking.

A lot of us do our homework on Friday night so we don't have to worry about it all weekend, so there're no party activities tonight, but you can play a muggle board game if you want.

Karaoke on Saturday nights.

Dungeons & Dragons on Sunday nights.

D&D’s swapped out for a play once a month; screw the theater ban! (For an explanation of Hogwarts’s theater ban, see Albus Dumbledore’s notes on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.)

Morning yoga in the common room — feel free to join; we'll teach you some poses.

Ask around; whatever you're looking for — info, candy, contraband — someone probably hands it out, sells it, can get it for you, and/or can tell you where to find it.

Pass around a spell that allows them to clean themselves. Who has time for showering?

And a potion that gives them the same feeling & energy as if they slept. Who has time for sleeping?

Yes, we're building a guillotine in the common room.

Please don't utilize it in the decapitation of any living person or thing (unless it's the Snape or Umbridge)!

Our next project is a carousel. With working lights & everything.

Yes, we're building a house of cards in the common room; please don't blow on it.

Be quiet until noon on the weekends or get hexed.

Thank Merlin they teach sign language in the common room every year & everyone knows enough to get by.

Parties are highly regulated.

People volunteer to walk people back to their dorms & put up protection charms so you don't get assaulted. Those people are vetted with Veritaserum first to confirm the authenticity of their intentions.

People often get into academic debates, which can get a bit loud; just silencio them & move on.

The entrances to the dorms are hidden behind moving bookshelves.

The Ravenclaw copy of Hogwarts: A History will tell you more than you realized you needed to know; there're enough notes in the margins to make a second book, including how to enter the kitchens, how to sneak out if the castle, how to find the Room of Requirement…

They've located more secret passages & rooms in Hogwarts using spells they created than the Marauders were aware of.

First-years are told how to put extension charms on their backpacks so they're not heavy — that's a crap-ton of stairs.

There's an incredibly thick book by a armchair near the fireplace that's full of testaments of Ravenclaw's alumni. "What's one thing you wish you'd known when you started Hogwarts?" First-years are encouraged to flip through it.

And taught a low-concentration spell for levitating books while laying down so your arms don't get tired (flick wand to turn page).

Common room's extended to fit all kinds of activities (and the bookshelves).

Some third-years built an aquaponic system on top of one of the window seats; take a cucumber, if you want, or stop to look at the fish.

Again, explosions are not uncommon. (Please don’t drop any explosives in the fish tank. As water isn’t as compressible as air, this will kill the fish.)

Everyone just kinda glances over to make sure you’re okay before going back to what they were doing.

There's always a record playing.

They host a hike through the Forbidden Forest once a week, because what even are rules?

If you hear an intelligent conversation taking place, feel free to sit down & listen or jump in!

The wind whistles against the windows all year round, but they've been charmed to keep water out.

Played The Floor is Lava before it was a meme.

There's a two-way mirror on the wall above the fireplace. There's a muggle television on the other side. No one's sure whose T.V. it is, but a lady comes in in the mornings in hair curlers & watches the news.

She puts in V.H.S. tapes of Disney movies at the start of term. Hypothesis says it's for the first years & this person's a half-blood or a muggle-born.

Sometimes, people work together to solve the Friday crossword in The Daily Prophet. It's the hardest all week.

Look at each other like they're the camera in The Office when someone says something stupid.

Oh, boy, if someone's found a really good mystery book… That sh¡t’s getting magically copied & passed around. We discuss theories at meals, pass notes in class, & set up a murder board in the common room.

Actually, Ravenclaw house has solved a number of murders in its free time.

Visit my Ravenclaw YouTube playlist & Pinterest board.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Ravenclaw #Ravenclaw Headcanons #Headcanons #Headcannons #remakethestars

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freakingbellam · 3 years

Text

Timeless (HP & HOO crossover x reader)

Synopsis: What would you say if I told you that Hogwarts and Camp Half-Blood are not so far apart? Yeah, Gale and Y/n would also say this is crazy. But these two girls are about to discover that even though they are far apart, the magic that surrounds them is the same. After all, what do a time travel, a fearful prophecy and a Titan about to resurrect, have in common? Certainly more than you can imagine.

Paring: Apollo x reader

Warnings: None, I guess.

Reader: Percy's step sister! reader

Word count: 1.7k

A / N: escreve o que quiser (notas da autora)

September 2010, New York - USA

Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t cry like a baby when she saw Argo II return to Camp Half-Blood. She had been forbidden to help in the battle against the giants, but she was nevertheless not full at Camp. After the near invasion of Camp Jupiter and Reyna's visit, things got messed up there.

But the best part of the return of the other demigods was seeing Percy again. He looked extremely exhausted, but happy to be back in one piece. Y/n hugged him for so long that Percy almost fell asleep in her arms.

The boy was welcomed with all the frenzy he deserved, entitled to a hearty banquet and a visit from his father, along with a very tearful Sally and a relieved Paul.

Tyson had been absolutely thrilled to see his older brother talking to his friends by the fire, which glowed high and yellow, mirroring the emotion of the half-bloods.

Despite being as happy as the others, and maybe even more so, Y/n retired a little earlier that night. She didn't walk long before her absence was noticed.

‘Mingling with the shadows? I thought this was my own thing.” The girl smiled at Nico di Angelo, who walked over to her with his hands in the pockets of his aviator jacket, which was still too big for him.

“I'm going to sleep, Nico.” She explained, continuing her way to Cabin 3. “It was a day full of emotions, I'm tired.”

Nico nodded, walking beside her. Y/n always found it fun to be the same size as Nico, but now she realized that he was a few inches taller than she was.

“Are you okay?” she asked, bringing up the subject.

“I think so.” Nico replied, looking surprised by his own conclusion. “Maybe things get better for me from now on.”

“I'm sure it will.” Y/n opened an encouraging smile. Because he was the son of Hades, Nico suffered more than all the other demigods, which worried the girl. She hadn't seen him since the war of the Titans, but she talked to Percy during her mission and discovered things she didn't want to discover.

She looked at Nico. For the first time in his life, his face looked serene, as if his problems were gone. Y/n realized that it would be better not to go into details about the problems he went through. She did not want to end his joy.

“Di Angelo!” someone called, running up to them. Y/n turned to find Will Solace smiling like a ray of sunshine. “Hi Y/n!”

“Will.” She smiled. When looking at Nico, she noticed a pink tint on his cheeks and held her laugh. “Can you take care of Nico for me? I need to go to sleep but he doesn't want to leave.”

Will smiled, realizing what she meant. Nico looked at her with anger and indignation, but he didn't seem against the idea.

“Certainly.” The blonde took a step forward. “Have a good night!”

“You too.” She raised an eyebrow at Nico and walked back to her cabin.

She was still smiling when she passed Hecate's cabin, which looked darker than ever. Her smile wilted. She had always been a little afraid of the goddess's children since she found herself a half-blood and moved to camp. But that night, something seemed comforting in the hideous darkness of the cabin. Unable to contain the impulse that occurred to her, Y/n went up on the porch and went through the open door. None of the goddess's children were there, they were probably still at the stake celebrating, they always loved a good party.

Y/n didn't know exactly what she expected to find inside, but she certainly wasn't ready for what she saw. She had never entered the cabin since she had never been invited and it didn't feel right to enter without an invitation like she did now. But what she found was an absolute void. No bunk beds, bathroom, closet or chest. Nothing for the basic comfort of teenagers. All that was inside was a torch on the floor with a brown leather-bound notebook beside it.

“Take it” A whisper said, and Y/n knelt down to better analyze the notebook.

“Who...?” She started the question, but knew at the time that she had no need to finish it. Hecate was there. “Are you hiding in the shadows?”

There was a harsh laugh, but Y/n couldn't tell where it came from. It was as if the goddess moved in every particle of air around her.

“I heard that Poseidon's children were mocking, but seeing that feat face to face is much more fun. Ares definitely didn't say enough about it.”

“I don't think he has any reason to boast about it.” She commented, but her body was tense. Something about the goddess made her feel that bad things would happen any second.

“Take the notebook.” She asked, seeming to feel the girl's tension. “Take it and bring my girl back.”

“What does that mean?” Y/n asked, but never got an answer.

After several minutes, she finally let herself be overcome by curiosity, put the notebook under her arm and ran out of the cabin.

Y/n spent a few days without touching the notebook, which was comfortably resting on the small table in her cabin. Percy asked several times what the notebook was and why Y/n didn't move it, but the girl always answered the same thing. "It's just a silly notebook." She was afraid to open it and end up triggering something she couldn't control.

Percy and the others had just returned from a massacre battle with irreparable losses, she didn't want to leave anyone alarmed by something as stupid as a leather notebook.

Y/n tried to distract herself. She would swim in the lake, duel with Percy in the arena, ask Tyson to teach her something in the forges, help Chiron with pending camp, talk about the biggest zucchinis with Rachel, encourage Annabeth to talk nonstop about architecture, sometimes make her repeat everything he had said in Greek, but nothing seemed to get her thoughts out of the notebook. Instead of being distracted, she got some scars from the duels, burns from the forges and throbbing ears, but nothing erased the notebook.

Tired of trying, Y/n returned to the cabin and spent several minutes looking at the problem. She would get up a few times, making a move to pick it up, but soon she would go back to sitting on bed. When she finally thought she would be brave enough to end the trip, someone knocked on the door.

Changing her course, Y/n opened the door to the blond, smug figure.

Y/n and Apollo had spent a lot of time together a few months before, not that any of them had a chance to do the opposite. He had helped her save the Camp when everyone seemed too busy saving the world. Now she was no longer able to get rid of the sun god, who suddenly appeared in her cabin. At least now he had learned to knock on the door before entering.

“Good afternoon, beautiful lady.” He smiled, breaking into the cottage before Y/n had a chance to expel him. “What do you do locked in that cabin?”

“Apollo, seriously, now is not the best time.”

“Every hour is the best time for Apollo!” He smiled at her and Y/n found herself unable to say no to him. The god had that effect on her, but she couldn't explain why. She just went back to bed and sighed.

“What happened, Sunshine?” he asked, now more serious.

Y/n pointed to the notebook, like a child pointing out the bully who was mistreating her. Pausing to think, it was almost the same.

Apollo's gaze followed Y/n 's finger until it stopped at the Hecate symbol on the cover of the notebook, and he froze.

“What's it?”

“That notebook.” He got up and picked up it, playing with it in his hands. “I saw Hecate with another of his once many years ago. I asked her what they were, but she cast a spell on me that prevented me from speaking for two months. Where did you find it?”

“I found him at her cabin.” The girl admitted, unable to lie to the closest friend she had at the camp until that moment. “I heard Hecate ask me to take him away. I didn't understand what she expects me to do.”

“Write.” He suggested, after long minutes of silence.

“I’m sorry?” Y/n looked at him, confused. “What if something bad happens, Apollo? I don't know if I want to find out.”

The god smiled gently, taking the book to the girl and handing it over, along with a blue ballpoint pen. Y/n hesitated for a few seconds before picking up the pen and opening the notebook. But she didn't do much more than that, as the words “Owned by G. J. W.” they magically appeared on the first leaf, in a strange black ink.

Y/n looked at Apollo for help, but he just shrugged and encouraged her to write something below. "G. J. W.? This notebook is mine, and my name has none of those letters!”

Before she had a chance to tell Apollo how ridiculous it was, the notebook replied.

G: "Who are you?"

Y: “Y/n Y/l/n, are you?”

G: "Gale Wright"

Y: “How the hell am I talking to you through my notebook? Where you are from?"

G: “England. I'm a student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, how about you? What school of magic do you belong to? ”

Y: "I'm not going to any magic school, I'm from New York, there's no such thing here!"

G: "I thought the United States school of magic was Ilvermorny"

Y: "I am not a witch!"

G: "Oh by Merlin, are you a muggle?"

Y: "Look, I may not be a witch but you don't have to curse me!"

G: “Muggle is a term for non-wizards ... But if you are not a witch, how can you talk to me? This notebook is bewitched, only those who have contact with magic could see it ”

Y: "I didn't know that the notebook was enchanted until now ... I didn't even know about the existence of a school of magic, wizards, yes, now schools? No, things are very different here"

G: "Different how?"

Y: "I am a camper at Camp Half-Blood"

G: "And what would that be?"

Y: "Well, a camp for demigods, of course!"

Y/n waited, but nothing else happened. She looked up at Apollo, who looked as upset as she was.

“School of Magic and Witchcraft of... Hogwarts?” She asked, hoping that Apollo would say something to her.

“I've heard of that school. Hecate loves to talk about how she has an entire chain of schools that teach children to do what she does. She is very proud of it.” He explained, taking the notebook from Y/n and examining the last conversation. “I just didn't think it was real at all. All the gods think it's Hecate's invention, but no one has ever tried to prove it.”

“Well, I think we just did that.” Y/n joked, but was far from feeling the fun of the situation, because, there in front of her, there was a problem. Perhaps a much bigger problem than she imagined.

#harry potter #percy jackson #fanfic #apollo x reader #harry potter imagine #percy jackson imagine #apollo #nico di angelo #will solace #tyson the cyclops #camp half blood #hogwarts

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ktheist · 3 years

Text

muses. familiar!cat-shifter!yoongi x witch!reader

83.“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk sometimes.”

“i thought witches don’t have friends.” yoongi scratches his arm, opening the fridge and checking out what little sustenance you have in it.

not much.

“and i thought familiars are supposed to indulge in their masters needs and wants,” hands on your hips you look at him with knitted brows and a pout.

but exactly five heartbeats later, you hear your phone buzzing and you’re hurrying to grab your bag, “i’ll be back!”

a second after the door closes shut, your head pops back in, the sulking pout now gone and in its place, the most brilliant smile and brightest twinkle in your eyes, “let’s have chicken for dinner! i left the money on the counter so you can order it and we can eat together.”

and then you’re gone.

min yoongi grumbles, eyes burning holes in the fifty dollar note lying on the white countertop.

‘did she think i’m broke or something?’

well, yoongi was quite literally homeless and living on tree branches in the deepest part of south korea’s reserves. but he was only living there because his last witch died from greed.

take over the world. become queen of every species on earth.

that sort of greed.

but you?

this 20-something year old pays - well, the humans like to call it tuition fee - to be a slave to an education that isn’t even beneficial to witches.

huh.

yoongi feels sorry for your bodiless ancestors who got burned at the stakes. if they had graves, they would be turning in them but they don’t because they took the risk to learn and practice witchcraft even if it was forbidden in their times.

now you’ve got all the reasons to learn - humans got so stupid that they stopped believing in anything besides logic - but you’re using him to predict what’s going to come out in your tests.

“ugh, my tailbone’s about to liquidize from having to sit in that exam hall for five freaking hours.” mina grumbles, stretching her arms over her head.

“okay, but why the fuck do we have to write a 10 page essay on why plato think our end goal is happiness?” soyeon’s scrunches her nose, as if physically cringing at the remembrance of it.

“isn’t that like, a statement? weren’t we supposed to talk about rousseau?” nayeon’s brows knit together in utter confusion.

“shit.” you’d expect soyeon to be cursing but it’s mina.

after a series of mina freaking out and the rest of you trying to calm her down by saying whatever possible answer they discussed could very well be wrong because nobody recalled hearing the professor mention who this rousseau scholar-guy.

except you.

and it wasn’t the professor who mentioned it.

it was the grumpy shapeshifting cat you’ve taken in who also happens to have futuristic premonitions.

almost as if they could hear your thoughts, soyeon turns to you, “we should’ve trusted ___’s instincts.”

technically, you were doing some reading on rousseau’s natural law theory when the girls sneaked up on you and scared your literal soul out of your body. they were surprised that you were even studying so you passingly mentioned having a strong, unquestionable feeling that he’s going to make an appearance in finals.

“you girls should’ve listened to me,” you cheekily proclaim, hands on your hips and chin tilted so high up, you can almost see the sun.

“oh great finals goddess, please tell us what you think will come out for criminal procedures,” mina gets on her knees without a care in the world and starts praying for you.

it wasn’t hard to stroke your ego and your friends know that better than anyone. so you tell them what they want to know on a pretense of ‘just predictions! don’t put all your eggs in one basket. i might be wrong!’

“yoongi, i’m home,” you singsong, swinging the door open only to have your shoulders sag at the lack of a certain black haired grump who would usually be sleeping on the couch and grumble for you to ‘shut up, i’m taking a nap.’

“huh, he’s not here.” you kick off your shoes and pad over to your room only to have your heart flutter at the sight of a cat snugly curled up in your bed.

“yoongi!” you squeal, dropping your bag and books on the floor before bounding over to the bed and gathering the slumbering feline in your arms.

the cat’s golden slits seem to appear on guard until they soften at the sight of you. he yawns widely as he stretches in your arms.

“i’m home, yoongi.” this time, your voice is barely above whisper, hand scratching his furry body as you lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“you were right about rousseau and now my friends think i have some sixth sense,” you prattle on while the weight on your chest starts curling himself up - you have no strand of doubt that if you just looked down, the black feline will be snoring away as if he doesn’t have a single ounce of care for your story-telling.

not that yoongi’s ever showed an interest in your life besides the magic that you happen to bottle up and exploded the day he was walking around in seoul out of boredom.

you’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you wake up to the sound of ‘here’s your chicken’ and a ‘thanks’ before the door clicks shut.

“was that the chicken?” groggy but hungry, you march over the kitchen where yoongi - now in his human form - is taking out the boxes with your favorite swicy chicken restaurant symbol from the plastic bag.

“with the way you were snoring, i didn’t think i should order dinner at all,” he says nonchalantly.

“i-i don’t snore!” you almost scream, cheeks heating up.

“uh-huh,” there it is again, the nonchalant tone that almost drives you up the wall. then he turns to face you, index finger tapping the corner of his mouth, “you’ve got some drool there.”

almost as if possessed by a chaotic spirit, you trudge to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you in your haste. your reflection stares back at you with bed hair pointing everywhere and alarmed, round eyes as you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand only to notice nothing there. you repeat the motion once again and true enough, not a smidge of drool is present.

“that lying-!” you huff, marching back to the kitchen with one objective in mind.

“lying isn’t very nice, yoongi,” you say, barely putting a lid on the boiling anger.

“being too trustful isn’t very witch-like either.” he counters, a swicy chicken in hand and bright red sauce in the corner of his mouth.

“i curse you into a monkey!” you scream, index finger pointed in his direction.

but instead of the black haired familiar morphing and turning into the animal you cursed him into, he continues eating without even batting an eye.

“what- but-” you look at your hand and then back at him, “i cursed you!”

“you can’t curse your own familiar.” he finally says halfway into your quarter-ish life crisis, “now sit down and eat before your stomach starts grumbling too.”

you huff in bashful frustration. face too hot to even look at yoongi in eye but you’re too hungry to throw another fit.

believe it or not, this is just one of your routine in your daily life - him teasing you, completely nonchalantly and you getting worked up over it and end up making a fool out of yourself.

in a few hours, you’ll end up forgetting it ever happens and end up cuddling the cat that’s curled up on your pillow. you’ve just finished revising another topic of your next exam.

the next time you wake up, it’s to grown sized male snuggling into your chest, his arm slung over your back and your leg wedged between his. there’s not so much as a hair’s breadth between you.

“y-yoongi,” you stammer out, unable to think properly.

but when the aforementioned man simply groans and nuzzles his face in between your boobs, your cheeks hit up and your hand ends up swinging in the air before it hits its target.

his cheek.

now he sports a red handprint on his porcelain skin as he goes around, making coffee for himself while you diligently study at your desk. it’s some time in the afternoon that a furry ball leaps into your lap and kneads your thighs with his little paws before curling into a ball.

“aren’t you so cute?” your heart flutters at the adorable little fur ball, hand scratching the underside of his neck and giggling at how he’s purring in appreciation.

you end up dropping your apple pencil and shutting off your ipad. carrying the clingy furball in your arms, you plop down your bed.

“ugh, my back feels like it’s gonna crumble off like biscuit crumbs,” you lament, not caring if the sentence makes no sense.

but before you can think of any other sentence that makes no absolute sense, you feel the weight on your stomach shift, the furball you were caressing now turning into a lump of skull with actual human hair as it holds itself up and places its forehead on yours.

“how is it that you willingly take me to bed when i’m a cat and slap me in the face like i’m some pervert when i’m my human form?” this time, you know he’s teasing you because he’s smirking like he’s amused.

“it’s different because you were a cat!” you thank merlin that your voice comes out strong and certain.

“i’m still me no matter what form i take though,” his hand is warm on your thigh. his breath fans your skin, “still a man.”

“it’s different,” you know you sound meek compared to when you started out.

but your face is hot and your heart is palpitating inside your chest. all of a sudden you feel too shy to even look at him. so you cast your gaze to the side. relief floods your system when he lifts his head from yours. but it’s short-lived. teeth bite on the delicate skin of your neck. not enough to hurt but enough to incite a surprised yelp from you.

and a swing of your hand.

that’s how yoongi ends up with another red handprint on his other cheek. the first one is barely disappearing.

and you, with a hickey on your neck that you don’t know what to explain to your friends tomorrow when you meet them for the exam.

but one good thing comes out of it. after the slap, a rope materializes and wraps itself around yoongi. it’s pure magic and not even he can undo it.

“stop teasing me,” you start, sitting on the chair with your legs crossed.

“start treating me like i’m a man even in my cat form and i’ll consider that,” he counters.

at that, you lift an eyebrow, all of a sudden feeling a rush of confidence, “start acting like a man in your human form then.”

that’s when yoongi looks at you like you’ve challenged his essence. his existence.

“untie me and i’ll show you what a man is, master,” he challenges back.

it’s the word ‘master’ that gets your stomach fluttering with butterflies.

“you have two heads but you’re using the useless one to interpret what ‘a man’ means?” eyebrows rising to the ceiling, you pretend to be surprised.

“you’re a witch but you don’t even know how to use a spell,” he shrugs, reverted to his nonchalant self.

and that’s what irks you the most. how he acts like it has nothing to do with him but rubs your lacking in your face.

“lay down.” you order and his body is sent flying backwards, barely missing the wall in his abrupt descent.

yoongi groans, gathering himself once again.

“see, i know you can’t go against my words,” you say, triumphant.

“how did you find out?” he strains his neck, trying to look at you now that he’s laying down.

“the way you always did what i asked and last night, you ordered the chicken anyway even though i was sleeping and i could’ve slept through the entire night.” those were suspicions - you only confirmed it when you gave him the direct order.

“fine, you win,” he announces, barely caring about the argument.

“good.” you nod, mentally willing the rope to untie itself. but nothing happens.

you try again.

and again.

“can i please be released?” yoongi finally says after one too many mental tries.

“uh, wait,” you push yourself off the chair and tread over to manually undo the knot that keeps the rope tightly wrapped around yoongi.

“you can’t do it with magic?” comes the million dollar question.

you sigh, dejected, “i think i need to be angry - or feel strongly about something to get my magic to work.”

that’s what happened when yoongi met you. overstressed and barely focusing on your surroundings, you ended up getting run over someone who was on a bike. everything just kept going wrong. you ended up bawling your eyes out on the sidewalk - the man who ran over you started panicking thinking he broke a bone.

“i’m cool now though.” you shrug, easily dismissing the dejection and whatever that upset you before.

the rope comes undone and yoongi shimmies himself out. but before you can do anything, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist and pulling you down until your knee digs into the mattress in between his legs, your faces too close. if he’d just tilt his head, his lips would easily brush yours.

“yoongi,” you warn but he shushes you.

“try getting the rope to move with magic,” he instructs, voice uncharacteristically soft and soothing.

you take a deep breath, eyes trained on the rope lying around him whilst trying to ignore the millimeter distance between your faces.

you move your index finger and the rope lifts itself up. you motion to the left with your finger and the rope gradually slithers through the air in the direction you’re pointing.

“it’s working,” you almost squeal, beaming.

and in your excitement, you seek yoongi’s gaze, only to see the rope crashing against the ground in your periphery.

“good,” a smile plays on his lips.

all of a sudden, you’re out of breath, the perpetrator also being the cause of the rush of blood to your face.

thanks.

the words doesn’t really get passed your lips because his feel feather-light but his fingertips on your cheek is calloused but grounding. that’s how you know this isn’t just some dream.

then he pulls all of you down. the sudden shift of motion illicit a gasp out of you. but the shock stricken state is short lived. you find yourself breathing in his musky woody scent.

he leans down, kissing the delicate spot on your neck that makes your heart wretch inside your chest.

“yoongi, maybe we should take it slow and practice some other time?” you suggest and he chuckles, the sound ringing in your ear like a blissful melody.

“i’m not doing this for a practice run,” he confesses ever so casually, “i took on the form of a cat because you told me about the one you have back home. but you got too familiar with it that you forgot about me.”

he licks your flesh like a cat would. it’s supposed to be an innocent, cat-like gesture but something about the way his male body is hovering over you makes the fibers in your system go on panic mode. you wish the bed would open up and swallow you whole but you’re not powerful enough for that.

yet.

“i’m upset,” he sulkily says and sinks his teeth into your skin.

the fading redness on his left cheek where you first slap him is rosier than ever after your third slap landing on that one.

“when are you gonna let me go?” his voice echoes in the silence.

you turn around to see the man sitting cross-legged on your bed with his hands on his sides, the rope tightly wrapped around him. after he bit you, the rope ended shooting up and around him, as if it had a mind of its own and sought to protect you by disabling your neck-biting familiar.

oh, you sport similar hickey on the other side of your neck now too.

“hmm,” you tilt your head in contemplation, “after my last exam?”

“that’s like, in a week,” he grunts, “how am i gonna bathe? and eat?”

“you have two heads, yoongi. figure it out.” you shrug and turn back to your books and ipad.

note. this was requested by an anonymous as part of my drabble game.

#bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #drabble game 1 #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

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