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eraenaa · 15 days

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Desperate Requirement

Slytherin Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Hogwarts AU)

Synopsis: It’s hard being horny at Hogwarts. Luckily, you and Aemond always found a way to relieve your needs.

Warnings: Barely any plot; just smut, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, Handjob, P in V sex, Semi-Public Relations, Shower Sex, Very Horny Aemond, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,660

A/N: I really wanted to do Aemond in Hogwarts because when I first watched HOTD, I was just recovering from my Draco Malfoy phase.

“Aemond,” You called, voice distracted and heavily laced with pleasure as his lips were on your neck and his cold hands were hiking up the hem of your skirt higher and higher. “We… we can’t do this here,” You called, your hands tangling in his hair, not at all making any move to push him away and hinder where your actions were leading. You were pushed up against the door of one of the many broom closets in the castle. Aemond pulled you in there as you were on your way to your next class. His actions made you completely forget about the spell in charms you stayed up to study the night before. “The professor is still in a meeting… they’ll be late. Why not capitalize on the opportunity?” He said against your skin, his hand going to your waist to pull you closer to him.

Your eyes fluttered to a close as lips returned to suck on your sensitive skin, making certain to leave a mark. Already amused, he thought about which way you would once again hide them. Will you cover them with those pastes you smuggled from the muggle world? Or perhaps will you, once again, constantly wear your house scarf even though the weather or setting did not reacquire it. Maybe you’ll surprise him and be bold enough to show all the marks Aemond intended to give you to mark his territory.

You sighed as his hands tried to unbutton your shirt; when his cold touch grazed the warm skin of your chest, your sensibilities returned. “I—I can’t be intimate with you here,” You whispered and pushed Aemond away. “Why not? Just earlier today, you were straddling me in my bed so I would not leave,” Aemond mused, recalling the scene that initially made him yearn for you so harshly at this hour of the day. “Well, that was in the privacy of your room! Anyone can walk in here and catch us! A student, a house elf— Merlin forbid, a professor!” You said and tried to push Aemond away but he would not have it. “Please, darling, just…” Aemond whispered, and you tried not to grow soft at the slight tone of begging in his voice. “Aemond,” you sighed as he took hold of your wrist and guided it downwards, making you feel the need in him.

You moaned quietly as you felt his hard length, proving that he needed you so greatly. You could no longer restrain yourself as you palmed his length through his trousers, hisses coming from his lips as you pleasured him through the fabric of his uniform. Cold hands found their way to your breasts, kneading the mounds and making you bite your lip as wetness gathered at your cunt. “Aemond… oh, Aemond,” You sighed, tilting your head back as one of his cold hands trailed downward and cupped your heat. His fingers rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves as you continued to palm his throbbing length. Your breathing mixed as your stifled moans and sighs echoed through the broom closet, the both of you reaching your peaks even though your skin had not actually touched. Aemond panted harshly as he spilled himself in his uniform, the spot where his seed gathered turning a darker shade.

“Scourgify,” you took your wand from your robe and uttered the enchantment. Aemond gave you a lazy smile as his sapphire-colored eye was still hazy from his release. You breathed out a sigh as his lips found yours once more, his tongue teasing your bottom lip and seeking entrance, but you could not be distracted anymore. “We have to go,” You pushed him away and turned to open the door, peeking out your head to make certain that no passerby would see the both of you emerging from the utility room. The both of you reached charms class at the nick of time. Your cheeks flushed, and your neck was covered by your wool scarf even though it was unseasonably warm. Aemond sat beside you, demeanor more lax and a satisfied smirk on his thin lips, and his hand resting on your upper thigh throughout the whole of the lesson. Effectively distracting you from the professor’s lecture.

You watched Aemond through the whole of his quidditch practice. You savored the way how focused he was trying to catch the snitch. Not missing the stunts he did to impress you nor the suggestive looks he’ll give when he passes you. By the end of their practice, your lip was between your teeth, and your legs were tightly crossed to relieve the need that had gathered in the past two hours of watching him fly around the quidditch pitch.

You quickly made your way down from the pitch minutes before they dismounted their brooms. You sneaked your way into the locker rooms to wait for Aemond. He was the captain of the Slytherin team, and one of the benefits of that was he had his own private shower stall and dressing room to change in. You bit your lip as you stood in the shower stall, hearing the distant sound of footsteps and chatter from the team. Your breathing hitched as Aemond’s voice was drawing closer, him lecturing one of his teammates about the game, clearly aggravated and frustrated. It would seem this endeavor would serve him beneficially. You bit your cheeks as Aemond’s words died on his tongue as he saw you standing stark naked in his shower stall, waiting for him.

He waved off his teammate and did not waste a second before wrapping his arms around you and placing his lips against yours. Your heart stuttered as you realized his tense and rugged figure turned putty in your arms, the frustrations you felt oozing from him miraculously disappearing. You sighed as you two were enveloped in the hot water, your lips never parting even though it was a bit of a struggle to breathe. You gasped in shock as Aemond hoisted you on his waist, pushing you against the tiled wall and aligning his length in your entrance. “You wouldn’t let me fuck you in the privacy of the closet, but you would happily let me have my way with you here? In the men’s bathroom, with my teammates just in the distance? How lewd had you become?” Aemond mused as you very slowly sank down on his cock, him making sure to catch every little reaction you would make as your cunt was once again filled by him.

You whimpered and moaned as you were fully filled by him, Aemond hissing as the tip of his cock rested perfectly in the spongey spot of your cunt. The spot that made your eyes roll back in your head and your back arch. “You have to be quiet, my darling… wouldn’t want to be caught now, would you?” Aemond hummed, his hands gripping your bottom, and his hips thrust to meet yours, your moans spewing quietly into the side of his neck as you buried your face there. “Aemond, what’s taking you so long?” His brother Aegon screamed from the locker room. “Give me a minute!” Aemond yelled but his tone was laced with concentration that made his other teammates suspicious. “Is he having a fucking wank?” You heard one of his teammates ask, and Aemond buried his cock deep inside, his lips continuing his torment on the side of your neck.

“Aemond… oh, I’m… fuck, I’m coming,” You moaned, dazed by the pleasure he gave. Aemond bit his lip as he moved one of his hands to cover your mouth, already knowing that you were ready to scream when you reached your peak. It truly was flattering for him to hear you scream out in pleasure; his name would always be uttered as you came, but he could not let the two of you be found in such a state. You panted against his hand, dazed eyes watching him tilt his head back as he came deep inside you, quiet groans leaving his lips. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” Aemond sighed and kissed your lips, then your cheeks, as you slowly unwrapped your legs around his waist. The two of you were sweaty from the endeavor, but luckily, the shower was just there.

“Stop it.” You gritted lowly as Aemond’s hand trailed upward your skirt. You were attending your Defense against the Dark Arts class, but Aemond was determined to distract you from the important lesson. “I need you,” he whispered in your ear as the professor was turned away from the class; you quietly whimpered as he nipped your ear after he whispered the words. “Pay attention; the O.W.Ls are near.” You whispered even though his small action caused you to need as well. Aemond grunted and returned his attention to the lecture, but now you, too, were distracted as well, need pooling between your legs as his hand never left your thigh, only inching higher and higher.

You bit your lip and raised your hand, excusing yourself to go to the lavatory. “Meet me in the second-floor prefect’s washroom,” You whispered to Aemond after, a sly smirk adorning his lips as you left. You waited impatiently for Aemond to appear, and when he did, you grabbed him by the necktie to smash your lips together. “Hurry, they’ll get suspicious,” You muttered as you two were squished together in a stall. Your fingers tried to undo his trousers, but you frowned as he nudged your hands away, and he instead sank to his knees. “Aemond, what ar—“ You could not finish your thought as he hiked up your skirt and pushed your undergarments to the side so his lips could meet your cunt.

Moans quickly spewed from your lips, no matter how hard you tried to stifle them. You looked down to see Aemond grinning up at you, his fingers pushing themselves into you. “So fucking wet… you could never resist me, now can you, my darling?” He hummed, then sucked on your bundle of nerves, making you moan louder. “Aemond!” You cried as he curled his fingers, the sound of your wetness and moans echoing through the empty lavatory. “Fuck, you’re so good…” You uttered as you felt your core tighten with the same need for release. His name once again spewed from your lips as you came on lips. You hummed in satisfaction as his lips met yours, tasting your essence on his tongue.

“You look gorgeous, my darling,” Aemond smiled as he spun you around. The great hall was decorated for the occasion. The Yule Ball was probably your favorite event at Hogwarts. “You look quite handsome yourself,” You smiled as you gazed up at him. You rested your head on his shoulder as you two swayed to the slow tune of the dance, his hand firmly on your waist. You sighed in contentment as you were in the arms of the boy you had loved since your first day in Hogwarts. “Do you want to get out of here?” You asked quietly as the dance floor became more crowded. Aemond was quick to agree and took hold of your hand to escort you out of the great hall, finding an empty carriage so the two of you could enjoy each other’s company in privacy.

Your lips danced their familiar dance as Aemond’s hold on your waist was threading upwards and nearing the valley of your breast. Your hands moved to rest upon his thigh, but you gasped in shock and embarrassment as the carriage door flew open, a professor catching the both of you. “Ten points each will be deducted from your house. Now go back to the hall,” they sternly said, and you and Aemond hurriedly disembarked the carriage, your cheeks flaming red in embarrassment.

You returned to the castle, turning to Aemond wide-eyed as he tried his hardest to stifle his laughs. “Don’t laugh! That was mortifying!” You said, but Aemond shook his head and cupped your heated cheeks. “You looked so adorable,” He laughed and gave your lips a kiss. You breathed in deeply as your heart stuttered at the way he looked at you with adoration. “Where do we go now? The rooms are locked, even our dorms,” You sighed as you two stood in an empty hallway. “Here?” Aemond suggested, but you scrunched up your brows at his ludicrous suggestion. You chewed on your cheeks as the need for Aemond was evermore present. “The astronomy tower?” He asked as you rested your head on his chest, your gaze downward, seeing that he, too, needed you badly. “No, it’s too cold,” You sighed and his arms wrapped around your frame.

All of a sudden, you hear the sound of light debris falling to the ground. Aemond frowned and took out his wand, preparing for an attack. Your brows furrowed as the empty wall in the hallway started to transform. The blank bricks reveal chiseled carvings and, ultimately, a door opened for the both of you. Your lips gaped, and you turned to Aemond, “Did… did we just summon the room of requirement?” You asked in disbelief. Aemond pulled you into the summoned room that housed a bed and fireplace. You were still in shock that you two had found the room that you thought was a hoax, but shock could not be properly comprehended as his lips were on yours again. Your bodies trailed over to the bed as your articles of clothing were tossed to the floor. You sat by the edge of the bed, gazing up at Aemond whose lips were parted as your hand was wrapped around his length.

You hear him his as your lips wrap around the tip of his length, your eyes still locked on his as you take in his length deeper into your mouth. “Fuck, darling, you look so pretty with your lips around my cock,” Aemond hummed and cupped your cheek, which was hollowed as you sucked his length. You gagged as the tip of him hit the back of your throat, his loudly groaning at the sensation. You continued on, tears spilling at the side of your eyes, “Such a good girl taking my cock,” Aemond praised as he abruptly pulled out of your cock. He, without warning, turned you around and let your stomach hit the soft mattress, your bum in the air as he squeezed them harshly.

You let out a loud moan as he plunged his length deep inside you, the wetness you had gathered making lewd noises that accompanied your moans and the crackling fire. “You like that? You like it when I fuck you from behind, don’t you, my darling?” Aemond grunted, his hands gathering your hair and lightly pulling it. The pain adds to your pleasure, and it translates to your walls clenching tightly around him. You could only moan as Aemond’s cold hand reached downwards, and his slender fingers started to draw circles upon your nubbin, your moans growing louder. Begging him for release as your knees dug into the soft, feathered bed and your hands fisted the sheets.

Aemond felt his release coming as well. He momentarily stopped his thrust to turn you around, wanting to see your pretty face as you came undone and as he filled your cunt with his seed. You feel his weight atop you and his lips against yours. “Aemond… Aemond!” You cried as you came hard on his cock. Your lips moved to his shoulders, and your teeth bit down on his flesh, making him groan in pained pleasure, urging him to spill himself inside you a bit earlier than he had wished.

Aemond collapsed atop your bare body, sweaty limbs intertwined. “Aemond?” You called, trying to catch your breath. “Yes, my darling?” He asked, “I still need you,” You said and heard him chuckle, moving to kiss your lips and moved to oblige your needs once more.

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my-castles-crumbling · 25 days

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sock - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 156 - NSFW but not explicit

"AHHHH!" Barty yelled dramatically, shoving his hand over his face and backing out of his dorm room quickly, running into Evan.

"What? What?" Evan asked, his tone terrified, reaching for the door handle.

"No! Don't go in there! Not if you want to keep your eyesight!" Barty screeched, swatting at Evan's hand.

"What the fuck, Barty, what's going on?" Evan asked, confused.

"Just got an excellent view of Potter's arsehole, that's what!" Barty screeched, scrubbing at his eyes as if trying to permanently delete the memory from his brain. "Oi!" he banged on the door. "Ever heard of a waxing charm?"

"Fuck off, Crouch! It's not like you and Evan put a sock on the door to warn me-ohhh!" Regulus's muffled voice sounded through the wood, but it was cut off by a low groan.

"I need to scourgify my brain," Evan muttered, turning around and heading down the stairs. "Merlin, I can never unhear that."

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shanastoryteller · 5 months

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN GRANDMA!! You already know what I want, nay, what I crave when the days get shorter and the only thing that brings me any solace is my favorite rarepare. Please, Tonks x Percy siat - specifically something abouth Tonks telling Percy about her powers maybe, just an incredibly intimate scene please and thank you 😩🧡

The first time Percy rushes to the St. Mungo's on the heal of a battle and bursts into Tonk's room, he doesn't understand why he'd needed to threaten his way in in the first place. She's stripped to her underwear and looks perfectly fine.

But there are three healers surrounding her and completely ignoring him. "Time?" the oldest asks, her hair pure white and her face a layer of wrinkles.

Tonks closes her eyes. "Eighty seconds."

"External first," she says briskly. "It doesn't do us any good if you bleed out."

She breathes out.

Then blood floods across her body, soaking the bed instantly as wounds big and small erupt over her skin. In some places he sees flashes of what he thinks are bone.

Tonks doesn't scream as magic starts flying, and he doesn't either, keeping himself plastered to the wall.

"Internal," the healer says.

What little of her skin he can see beneath the blood pales and they're casting more healing spells, longer and more complicated the any he's heard before.

"Head," she says. "Go slow."

Tonks swallows and then there's another rush of blood as her eyes roll and she passes out and all three of the healers are flinging spells with a speed and intensity he didn't know was possible.

He's almost grateful that he can't see what injury they're treating.

Then the other two step back and the old healer casts a diagnostic spell that Percy tries to interpret and can't. Her shoulders drop and she says, "Good," casting a scourgify to take care of the blood and pulling the blanket over her with a flick of her wand.

She turns, noticing Percy for the first time. Instead of anger, she just raises an eyebrow. "You're the boyfriend, then?"

He really hates what that implies about how often Tonks needs to be treated by healer quite this talented. "Is she going to be okay?"

His stomach had twisted itself in nots but it finally starts ease when she gives a short nod. "We'll let her get some rest and keep her overnight from observation." She tilts her head to the side. "I'd kick you out, citing the no visitors policy for this ward, but you're already here. Seems like a big of wasted effort."

"A bit," he agrees, pulling a chair next to Tonks's bedside and collapsing into it. "Thank you."

Tonks wakes up slowly, feeling the hospital sheets that she hates with the smell she can't stand and she's already trying to figure out how she can get herself released early without bringing Nanu's wrath down on her.

She pushes herself upright - or tries to. She can't mover her arm.

She looks down, alarmed, but her arm is just being used as a pillow.

By Percy, who's asleep and hunched over her bed. Percy, who needed to be coaxed and cajoled into leaving his desk for so much as a tea is here. He doesn't even have any scrolls or work spready out. She wouldn't blame him if he didn't, but he's just here, and from the way his clothing's rumpled he's been here for a while.

Tonks's heart feels so full.

She's going to marry him.

He only just accepted that they were dating, so she'll give him some time before introducing the concept of marriage, but she knows. This man is going to be her husband someday.

#hi!#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #lance-with-a-chance-of-anxiety #harry potter #siat #and that's it for halloween prompts! hooray!

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theostrophywife · 7 months

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kiss with a fist | chapter three.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: high enough by k. flay.

author's note: we're well on our way. this is a shorter(ish) chapter, but that just means that you might get the next one sooner rather than later. as always, please enjoy the banter and sarcasm.

Angel’s Trumpet was going to be the death of you.

You were convinced of it.

The multiple failed attempts to brew the wretched draught hung over you like a pall and followed you into your second week. When Wednesday night finally rolled around, you were in a proper foul mood. You couldn’t even bring yourself to take more than one bite of lasagne, which was usually your favorite.

Beside you, Luna set the latest copy of the Quibbler down and looked over at you with concern. “Still having trouble with potions?”

You nodded, sighing in frustration. “It’s this bloody Angel’s Trumpet. I’ve read over the recipe so many times that it’s practically ingrained into my subconscious, but I just can’t seem to get it right.”

Your roommate smiled faintly. “I know,” she said in her breathy voice. “You do come up with some rather creative curses when you’re studying.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Loons, have I kept you up with my late night ranting again?”

“No need to apologize. The wrackspurts are truly doing a number on everyone, not just you. They’re especially rampant during the start of term.” Her dreamy eyes sharpened into something that resembled mischief. “And how are your sessions with Theodore going?”

The faint smile on your friend’s face told you that she definitely knew more than she let on. Besides you and Theo, Luna was the only person in Hogwarts who knew about your secret little dalliances. She had figured it out rather early on last year when you and Theo kept mysteriously disappearing at the same time. It was a shame that everyone underestimated her. Luna Lovegood was the most astute person you knew.

You had absolutely no doubt that your secret was just one of many that Luna had uncovered by simply being observant. After all, teenagers weren’t exactly covert even if they were witches and wizards.

“Miserably,” you finally answered.

Much to your annoyance, Theo had not let up since the weekend. Day after day, he dragged you into the potions lab with varying disastrous results. Just the other night, the damned cauldron spewed magenta liquid like a geyser, effectively soaking you and Theo in pepto bismol pink like a demented water park ride. No amount of scourgify could wash away the shame.

Luna laughed. “Pansy said that Theo spent hours scrubbing potion off of his fancy leather shoes.”

“Pansy?” you asked incredulously. “As in, Pansy Parkinson? Since when are you two the best of friends?”

Your friend shrugged nonchalantly, but you clocked the slight flush in her cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to replace you. Pansy and I just have a few classes together, that’s all.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is she being nice to you? I swear to Godric if she even says one mean thing I’ll stick a broom up that witch’s ar—“

Luna held her palms up. “I appreciate the concern, but I assure you Pansy is very nice.”

That wasn’t entirely convincing, but you trusted Luna’s judgment. As protective as you were over your friend, you knew that she was perfectly capable of handling herself.

“I just worry,” you said, patting her shoulder. “Those little serpents have teeth.”

“Oh, I think you’re more familiar with the Slytherins and their teeth than I am.”

“Loons!”

She smiled unapologetically. “Speaking of which, here comes your serpent now and he does look poised to bite.”

You turned just in time to see Theo marching down the aisle with two of his housemates. The curly headed one, Mattheo Riddle, swaggered on his right and winked at you. Flanking Theo’s left side was Enzo Berkshire, who gave you a polite wave. He was by far the most tolerable out of the lot of them. You wholly ignored Mattheo, but acknowledged Enzo with a nod.

Theo, on the other hand, you openly glared at. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

Every head at the Ravenclaw table turned towards your direction. Though your housemates liked to think they were above the petty drama, Ravenclaws were some of the worst gossips in this school. Three Slytherins walking amongst their midst was as juicy as it got.

Completely unfazed by the attention, Theo slid in next to you on the bench. “Someone’s got their wand in a twist.”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I’ll twist more than just your wand if you don’t leave me the hell alone, Nott.”

Mattheo smirked. “Oh, I like her.”

The glare you shot his way was full of venom. “The feeling is not mutual.” Enzo fought a smile as Mattheo gaped. You ignored the both of them and turned back to Theo. “Who are they supposed to be? Your cronies?”

“Merlin, she never truly lets up, does she?” exclaimed Riddle.

Theo grinned. “You have no fucking idea, mate.” His expression faltered when he saw the ire dancing in your eyes. “Right, I know that look. Leave us before she decides to turn you two into toads.”

The boys reluctantly backed away. Beside you, Luna followed suit but winked behind her shoulder as she left the Great Hall. Luckily, Theo’s back was turned to her.

“What do you want?”

“Glory, riches, power. The usual,” he deadpanned. “What do you think I want? I've been waiting for you at the lab for half an hour.”

“I can’t,” you said dismissively. “Not tonight.”

“Oh, yes you can. I’m too invested to give up now. I am going to teach you how to brew Angel’s Trumpet even if it kills me.”

“I’d prefer to skip the brewing and get right to the fun part.” You didn’t even notice that your bantering had stopped every conversation at your table. Everyone watched as you menacingly twirled your wand. “Shall I buy a new dress for your funeral?”

Theo smirked, seizing your wrist. He lowered his voice and spoke quietly so only you could hear. “I’d rather see you wear my jumper again.”

“Let go of my hand and I’ll be sure to turn up to your wake donning your beloved jumper.”

He sighed in frustration. “I’m serious about the draught, diavolina. We’re trying again. Tonight.”

“Was my last try not humiliating enough?”

“There’s definitely room for improvement. Avoiding turning the lab into a slip and slide would be my first suggestion.” His mouth quirked in amusement. Prick. “Aside from that, I think I finally figured out the missing ingredient.”

“And that would be?”

“Relaxation,” Theo answered proudly. “You’re way too uptight and it’s feeding into your magic, hence all the explosions.”

You scoffed. “You want me to relax? I have literally never relaxed in my entire life. I came out of the womb stressed about taxes.”

Theo snorted. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Let the expert teach you, sweetheart. Being relaxed means being confident and being confident means success.”

“You do know that confidence and arrogance are two different things, right?”

“Do you want to brew the bloody potion or not?”

The fact that Theo was the one motivating you to do school work was only slightly despairing. “Fine,” you conceded. “Teach me how to relax, oh Great Master.”

“Tucking that away for names I’d like for you to call me in bed.”

“Pervert.”

“Don’t slut shame me, Y/N. We all have our kinks.”

“Great. Mine is committing acts of violence against snarky Slytherins.”

“This snarky Slytherin rather enjoys your acts of violence. Especially if it involves your smartass mouth on mine.” You flushed in response, which only made Theo smirk in satisfaction. “Now, come. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

The Astronomy Tower was the last place you expected Theo to take you to. He didn’t really strike you as a stargazing type of guy, but then again, you probably didn’t strike people as the type of girl who slept with her academic rival out of spite.

Maybe you both had layers. Layers upon fucked up layers.

The thought almost made you laugh hysterically as you silently watched Theo transfigure his robe into a blanket. He laid it gently across the wooden floor and beckoned you over. “Sit,” he said simply.

“This is awfully romantic of you. You take a lot of girls up here, Nott?”

“Only uptight little Ravenclaws who’d rather vex me to death than enjoy a stunning view of the stars.”

You snorted. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him. “Sit. I won’t ask again.”

To be fair to Theo (a statement you never thought you’d make), the stars were stunning tonight. You sat cross legged on the blanket and watched as constellations twinkled in the horizon. If you were up here with anyone other than the present company, you might’ve found it rather nice.

But alas, this was Theo you were talking about. It was only a matter of time before he ruined it somehow. Probably with a lascivious comment.

“Why are you sitting like you’ve got a stick up your arse?” Bingo. “Even more than usual, I mean.”

“Maybe you’re the stick up my arse.”

“Don’t joke, darling.” Theo quipped, placing a hand over his chest. “You know I’ve been asking for months.”

“Do not make me push you over that railing, Theodore.”

“Jokes on you, I find your threats incredibly arousing. I’m pitching a tent in my trousers just thinking about it.”

You rubbed your temples. “How is irritating the shit out of me supposed to be relaxing?”

Theo grinned, reaching into his pocket. “Because, I have this.”

With a proud smile, he produced a tightly rolled blunt.

“That’s your big idea?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the joint. “Taking me to the highest tower in the castle and getting higher than a hippogriff so we can potentially fall down the stairs and break our necks?”

“It’ll help with your nerves.”

“The only thing wrong with my nerves is that you’re always on them.”

He smirked, sticking the joint between his lips. “You’re deflecting. What’s the matter, diavolina? Scared to partake in the devil’s lettuce?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, give it here.” Theo’s eyes widened as you took the joint from his mouth and stuck it in yours. “Well? Are you going to light me up or not?”

He shook his head in mild disbelief before pulling a lighter out of his pocket. You squinted at the silver Zippo, which had initials engraved on the front. The writing was too faded for you to read.

“I got tired of Mattheo stealing my lighters,” he explained. “This way I don’t lose track of it.”

The initials weren’t what surprised you. It was the fact that Theo even had a lighter in the first place. Most wizards just used magic to conjure fire. They certainly didn’t go around carrying muggle inventions in their pockets. It almost made you feel like you were back home in London, bumming a cigarette off some drunk after a night out in the pubs.

��Why not use incendio?”

Theo shrugged. “An irritating know-it-all once told me that not everything has to involve magic.”

It was strange to hear him echo your words.

None of it made any sense. Theo would’ve had to venture into a muggle shop to buy that lighter, which was unheard of for a pureblood. Especially not one whose family was part of the now disbanded Sacred Twenty-Eight. The idea of Theo walking around Camden Market to purchase a Zippo was more disorienting than the drugs.

This little discovery did not line up with what you thought you knew about him. You squinted at him in the dim light, inhaling deeply. The smoke filled your lungs and clouded your senses. Yet one question remained even as you exhaled.

Who the hell are you, Theodore Nott?

Sensing your gaze, he watched with a small smirk as you passed the joint over to him. It seemed impossible for the drugs to be taking effect so soon, but you found yourself mesmerized as Theo took a long drag. Smoke curled around his mouth as he leaned back on his elbows, tipping his head back to gaze up at the moon.

“Why the Astronomy Tower?” you asked after a few moments.

Theo shrugged. “It’s nice up here. Quiet. It helps to get away from the noise.”

“Strange. I’d become convinced that you sometimes speak just to hear the sound of your own voice.”

A set of dimples appeared on Theo’s cheeks. On anyone else, it might’ve been endearing. “Close. There’s also the added bonus of annoying you.”

You didn’t try to stifle your laughter. “Yes, I suppose that sweetens the deal.”

The two of you sat in silence, passing the joint every so often and quietly contemplating the stars. The absence of noise was jarring. You couldn’t remember the last time that you weren't surrounded by noise. Ravenclaws were a chatty bunch. Whether you were exchanging the newest piece of gossip or bragging about academic achievements, there was always this constant exchange of information.

Your brain was hardwired to process input. Without it, you felt sort of like a toddler who had just gotten their comfort blanket ripped away from them.

“Stop fidgeting, Y/N,” Theo commanded with his eyes closed. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

You frowned, picking at your nails. “I don’t think it’s working. Either your drugs are rubbish or my neurosis is canceling it out.”

He opened one eye lazily. His body language was languid, like he was floating through air. You envied him for it. “Just take a deep breath and empty your mind.”

“I know that may be easy for someone whose thoughts are typically vacant, but I’m not wired that way. I can’t just turn off my thoughts.”

Theo sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. He stared at you for a second before his eyes lit up with realization. “Of course. I’m so stupid.”

“No argument there.”

He rolled his eyes in response. “I’m trying to get you to relax the Theo way when we should be doing it the Y/N way.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Think of the one place in the castle where you feel most at peace.”

You cocked your head, contemplating. The answer came to you in an instant. “Okay. I’ve got it. What now?”

Theo rose to his feet and offered you his hand. “Lead the way, diavolina. Show me how the chronically neurotic unwinds.”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo

Please let me know if you'd like to be added.

#what i would give to get high in the astronomy tower with this idiot #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott smut

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naurimastaur · 8 months

Text

Lovesick

TW: Aesthetic photo

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred comforts you while you’re sick, well at least he tries to.

Me? Writing fluff??? (I had a head cold & was delirious writing half of this)

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The morning birds hovering over diagon alley chirped in a harmonious melody of optimism and grace. Their song unfortunately becoming intwined in the sound of Y/N’s unwarranted retching.

“Good morning, darling,” Fred stretched, briefly regarding his partner’s state.

Her extremely curved spine and bent neck created a naturally alluring sight (to the blind).

Fred cringed at the mess she’d amassed on the floorboards below, patting her back rather discouragingly before prioritising his own comfort.

“Are you not going to work?” Y/n prodded, grabbing her wand and whispering a quick ‘scourgify’.

“No, I’m perfectly content watching you create your own moat around our bed,” he retorted, nestling against the outline of his dense head on his pillow.

“And I suppose, you’re incapable of looking after yourself,” he quickly added, after feeling her burning forehead, faking a ‘sizzle’ sound as he pressed his fingertips onto the mattress below.

“What if you get sick?” She muttered in return, eyes half closed. The tempting comfort of sleep soothing her ill state.

“What if you get sick?” He mocked, holding his nose shut in an impression of her ill voice. Being a lab rat to his own products, he had unintentionally built a form of immunity to illness.

Her weary eyes regarded him with faint amusement.

“Besides, cant get sick with all this muscle,” he bragged, flexing his arms in an embarrassing display of a masculine ego.

“Merlin, you’re worse than my headache,” she groaned, swatting his face away from hers.

“Hypochondriac,” he replied, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face.

“Ginger,” she said simply, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck.

He held her feverish body close to his, tucking her worries into the safety of his embrace. Admirably, he swallowed his horror each time her red, irritated nose scrunched with a sniffle. Usually it was partnered with a leaking fluid, grazing his woollen jumper.

Sometime later Fred awoke with a sneeze, eyes swollen and inflamed.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Indeed.”

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#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter #fred weasley x fem!reader #fem!reader #hp fluff #comfort #sick comfort #autumn #james phelps #crush imagines #oneshot

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myveryownfanfiction · 6 months

Text

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @fangsandroses

warnings: mention of menstruation, swearing

I groaned as I got up from the couch where I had been lounging with Severus. He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched me but I smiled softly at him before heading into the bathroom. I groaned again, louder this time, as I realized what the cramping had foreshadowed. I scourgified my clothes and hung my head.

“Severus!” I called. There was a gentle knock on the door and Severus peaked his head in. “I can’t stay the night. I’m going to floo back to my chambers.”

“What on earth for?” He asked. His face morphed into something more concerned and I smiled at him.

“I’ve started and I don’t have any supplies with me.” I said softly. Severus nodded slowly before coming into the room fully. “Hey.” I teased. He rolled his eyes at me before shifting through his cabinet.

“these what you need?” He asked as he showed me a package. I raised my eyebrows and nodded. Severus opened the package and pulled out what I needed before handing it to me. “I’ll get a pain relief potion from my stores and something to help you sleep later.” He said, almost mumbling to himself. I watched him in awe as he left the room, leaving me to my own devices. I hurried to take care of myself before heading back into the main room.

“wow.” I breathed when Severus returned with the two potion bottles and a warm water bottle. He raised an eyebrow at me as he helped me get situated again.

“Drink this.” He held out the pain relief potion to me and I did as he said, feeling my cramps let up instantly. I chuckled and shook my head. “What?” Severus asked.

“nothing just…I’m imagining all the slytherins coming to you for monthly supplies.” I snickered. Severus rolled his eyes at me. “You know I always thought you would have been the worst head of house to go to.”

“really?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I nodded.

“yeah. I mean I never had to but flickwit always just sent me to McGonagall or sprout.” I shrugged, smirking at him. “And I mainly interacted with them because I always had their classes first thing in the morning.” Severus chuckled and shook his head at me.

“well I’m glad to have pleasantly surprised you.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head and burying his nose in my hair. “When that one wears off let me know. I’ll get another one.” I nodded against him and closed my eyes as I listened to his heartbeat.

“if I had known you were kinder and more considerate than the others, you would have been my first choice every time.” I whispered. Severus smiled and kissed my head again.

“I would have been honored.” He whispered back.

#alan rickman #alan rickman fanfiction #alan rickman imagine #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman fanfic #severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic #severus snape x reader #severus snape imagine #monthly series

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serverusslaype · 8 months

Text

Shameless, pt. 2

Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hello there, we meet again it seems? B)

here is part two for Shameless. i tried my best proofreading it and editing some bits, but there is a high probability that there's some bits i missed. i did get distracted changing some things.

i really like this chapter, i feel like it starts to give you an idea of the reader's feelings towards snape. >B)

also, i won't lie, Camila Cabello's Shameless did inspire this fic, and it especially fits the moment between the reader and snape here.. hehe

hope you enjoy, please let me know! <3

anywho...

off we gooo!

Your first class had gone smoothly, apart from a little mishap where a student had cast Incendio instead of Lumos Solem. You'd quickly extinguished the fire with a quick Aguamenti, much to the amusement of your class. As of right now, you were trying to clean the soot and ash off of the table with a wet cloth, your fingers starting to ache and burn from the harsh grasp you had. Sighing, you should have seen this coming... a mistake was a given for a class of second-years. It didn't surprise you that the student at fault was none other than Neville Longbottom.

You'd kept him after class, not to scold him, but just to make sure he was alright. The boy did give himself a fright.

"I-I'm really sorry, Professor," Neville sighed, his eyes glued to the floor as he stood in front of you with a sad expression. "I just got my spells mixed up." He explained weakly, braving a glance at you.

"It's alright, Mr Longbottom, but you do need to be a little careful next time." You said, throwing a kind smile his way. He nodded frantically and his eyes were instantly locked on the floor again. You were sure he was bracing himself for a telling off. "I'd rather not have my classroom burn down on the first day, you know." You joked, trying to lighten the mood. You knew Neville didn't do it on purpose, he had a good heart and you'd noticed in class that he was rather clever at Herbology. So you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The boy smiled weakly at you, nodding once more. "I will, Professor." He said, swallowing anxiously. You gestured to the door, silently dismissing him. Neville quickly scurried out of the door, hurrying himself to his next lesson.

As he left, a rather big and exasperated sigh fell from your lips. What else could go wrong? You glanced around, your nose crinkling up in slight annoyance. The mess that was left afterwards was a little... headache inducing. Piles of mud sat on top of the table and some of it had found it's way onto the ground. Apparently, it had slipped your mind that teaching twelve-year-olds with messy materials would equal... well, a bloody big mess. Perhaps you should have thought that through a little better.

"Scourgify." You said, waving your wand at the large, wooden table that sat in the middle of the greenhouse. The specks and mounds of mud suddenly dissipated from the table, and you were suddenly very thankful for magic. A content smile came to rest on your face as you turned around to walk towards your row of potted plants, your eyes landing on a rather beautiful Aconite, also known as Wolfsbane or Monkshood. Unlike the other free-flowing plants, you'd placed it inside a glass case due to it's dangerous toxicity. You did trust your students, but you preferred not to take the risk.

"Ah, Professor L/N, just who I was looking for!" Came an enthusiastic voice to the left of you. You twirled around, frowning as you did not recognise their voice. As your eyes landed on their tall, strawberry-blonde haired form, you clocked that it was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Gods, you weren't sure whether you had the patience to deal with this man right now. You'd actually rather deal with another bout of Snape right now, despite your bicker an hour earlier.

"Lockhart," You greeted softly, offering him a polite smile. You clasped your hands together in front of you, staying beside your plants. "What can I do for you?" You asked, hoping it was some sort of small favour.

"Merlin, you're just as beautiful as that utterly gorgeous Aconite beside you," Lockhart commented with a wink, his piercing blue eyes bouncing between your form and the fauna to your right. You groaned to yourself quietly. Lord, if he's just come here to get in your drawers, he'd better just walk out the door right now.

"Back to the point, Lockhart?" You sighed, massaging your temples as you felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, right, well.. what does one do when... one releases pixies in a classroom?" He asked cryptically, and you could only frown at him in utter confusion. Lockhart smiled innocently at you, and you could only arch a brow at him, waiting for more clues to what the hell he was getting at.

"Pixies...? What?" You repeated, still clueless. What the hell has this man done? And why is he getting you involved? It's your first bloody day back here! You just wanted a quiet first day... Is that too much to ask for?

"Would you please accompany me back to my classroom, Professor L/N?" Lockhart pleaded, running a hand through his perfectly-style locks. You tutted softly and rolled your eyes, gesturing for him to walk on. "It's easier if you see for yourself." He added and cleared his throat.

You followed the man to his classroom, the wind gently blowing through your leafy-brown and green robes. "What have you done, Lockhart?" You questioned him curiously as the two of you walked into the castle, rushing up the moving staircases as the clacks of your heels echoed out into the empty stone halls.

Lockhart chuckled awkwardly, keeping the grin on his face to soothe your worrisome one. You sighed quietly, preparing yourself for the worst as you rounded the corner to the door of his classroom.

With wide eyes of horror, you opened the door to the screams of students and the high-pitched cheers of Cornish Pixies. The hanging skeleton of a dragon had fallen to the ground, broken bone fragments scattered everywhere.

"Oh my-" You gasped, ducking as groups of pixies flew towards you. The students scurried like terrified mice around the room, a futile attempt to run and hide from the little purple terrors. "Immobulus!" You shouted, aiming your wand at the gaggle of fiendish pixies. Immediately they slowed down, almost like they were in slow motion. The screams from the students quietened down as they looked up, watching you quickly pushing the pixies back into their cage with your wand.

"Lockhart, you have some serious explaining to do!" You exclaimed and turned around, expecting to see the famous author, however, he was nowhere to be seen. An exasperated groan leaves your lips.

"Erm, Professor L/N, up here..." Came a familiar voice from above you. As you looked up to the source of the voice, you gasped in shock. Neville Longbottom was hanging from the chandelier by the hood of his cloak. Instantly, you flicked your wand at him, slowly levitating him to the ground.

"Not having a good day, are you, Neville?" You sighed, placing a hand against your cheek as you glanced around the room at the chaos. Books and parchment lay destroyed on the ground and desks, ink pots and quills were scattered amongst the war zone too. As you looked back to Neville, he shook his head and leaned against the table behind him, steadying himself. "Neither am I." You added quietly, mainly to yourself.

"Professor, what do we do now?" Another student asked. Looking to your right, it was none other than Harry Potter. You exhaled softly, feeling the frustration beginning to build up. Why was this happening to you? Did someone hex you? Gods.

You were clueless for a moment, you'd no idea what they'd been taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts, let alone what you should tell them to do. So you improvised. "For now, just open your books and revise some of the material that you learnt last year, please." You said tiredly, gesturing to the books that had been knocked on the floor during the chaos. "I'm sure Professor Lockhart will be back soon." You clenched your jaw the sound of his name - how could he be so careless? You were not a janitor, so why were you cleaning up his mess? To be frank, you were more angry at him for putting the students in a potentially dangerous scenario - Longbottom was hanging from the chandelier for crying out loud!

You couldn't leave the students unattended so you walked to Lockhart's desk and sat against it, your mind racing with insults to hurl at the author when he finally returned. The students all quickly rushed around, picking up their belongings and sitting themselves down at their desks.

"Professor?" A student asked, quirking your attention. You looked up and smiled weakly at them, prompting their question. The boy had bright blonde hair, slicked back, and he donned a cunning smirk on his face. Draco Malfoy, of course. "Do you know anything about the Dark Arts?" Draco asked, almost mockingly. The boys surrounding him laughed. You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

"Perhaps, Mr Malfoy." You replied nonchalantly. Honestly, you weren't very knowledgeable on the subject, it wasn't one of your strong-suits back in school. Of course, you knew bits and bobs of it, but you didn't believe you were fit to teach it.

"Perhaps, you can teach us a spell?" Draco asked with sly eyes, and you shook your head at him, prompting a disappointed groan from the said student. He was brave to be mocking a professor, you thought. Though, you weren't all too surprised, his last name was Malfoy after all.

"No, certainly not. Now, get on with your reading, please." You said sternly, almost at your wit's end. "And five points from Slytherin for being a smart-arse." You added, earning a scoff from the boy.

In all honesty, this is not how you expected your first day back at Hogwarts to go. You prepared yourself for a peaceful day - maybe with a few mishaps from students, but that was it. You did not expect to be pulled from a free period to deal with some rambunctious bloody pixies, released by a professor no less!

Currently, you were walking with McGonagall through the corridors, escorting the hoards of students back to their dorms after dinner in the Great Hall. The torches lit the way, casting a pretty amber hue against the bland stone walls. The air was a bit chilly, and so you wrapped your leafy-brown cloak around you tighter as the wind bit at your skin.

"How was your first day, my dear?" McGonagall asked you, glancing at you from the side as the pair of you walked behind the gaggle of students.

A deep sigh left your lips, inducing an amused chuckle from the older witch. "Oh, Minerva, you have no idea." You groaned and let your fingers grasp the bridge of your nose momentarily, a sign of stress.

"That bad?" She laughed softly, arching a brow at you. You could only give her a disbelieving look.

"The first class of the day went well, until Longbottom set my table alight. Then, Lockhart decides to drag me into his mess!" You scoffed, keeping your voice quiet. Unfortunately for you, Lockhart had been avoiding you since the whole ordeal, so you hadn't had a chance to give him a piece of your mind. "I could've just about killed the man." Clenching your jaw in frustration, you suddenly hear a kerfuffle of gasps and a growing noise of mutterings coming from the group of students ahead as they all immediately came to a halt.

"I'll kill you!" A loud, gruffly voiced shouted from ahead. Gods, what now? You weren't always this wound up, but today had really tested you.

"What's going on?" McGonagall questioned worriedly as she began to swiftly move through the students. You followed suit, a perplexed frown gracing your face. As the two of you rounded the corner, your eyes widened in horror.

A message had been scrawled out on the wall in what looked to be blood. It read: The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir... beware. As you glanced to the left, you noticed Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, was hanging from the metal torch-holder, blood dripping from her head. Your hand flew to your mouth.

"Bloody hell..." You muttered, stepping forwards to look closer at the haunting image.

Filch had a grip on Harry Potter's cloak, dragging him up to his face.

"Argus!" Dumbledore called from behind you, with Snape and Lockhart in tow. You stood back, allowing Dumbledore to step forwards towards the scene. As your eyes landed on Lockhart, his eyes met yours and they instantly widened. You glared at him and slipped past McGonagall and Dumbledore, your feet absentmindedly carrying you in his direction. Deep down you knew this wasn't the right time, but you couldn't hold back, he'd really angered you earlier. You reached out your hand and grabbed Lockhart's arm, dragging him away from the crowds of students and teachers.

With a muffled thud, Lockhart's back was against the wall. "If you ever pull that shit again, Lockhart, I will not hesitate to have you removed from this school. What were you thinking-"

Before you could continue scolding the man, a firm hand grabbed your arm and pulled you away from Lockhart. You looked up to find a set of piercing, cold dark eyes staring down at you. Snape. You felt your heart leap up into your throat and your cheeks instantly burned hot as he kept his hand on your arm. The scent of smoke, books and a hint of sweet wine filled your nostrils as he moved closer to you, your bodies almost touching at this point. His scent was utterly intoxicating to you, and that scared you slightly.

"Have you no brain nor sense of timing, Professor L/N?" Snape scowled at you and you sunk down slightly at the threatening tone in his voice. You looked away from him in a rather poor show of defiance. He kept his voice quiet. "I don't believe this is quite the right time to be scolding your colleague." The Potions Master said sternly, nodding his head in the direction of the bloody message. You looked back at Snape, pushing your jaw out in frustration. You were silently wishing that this wasn't the way that the two of you happened to be in such close proximity.

Ripping your arm from his grasp, your hand flew up to gently rub where he had gripped you so harshly. You glanced back at Snape, who now looked furious at you. Suddenly, it felt like he'd stolen the air from your lungs - you weren't sure whether that was because of your silly little crush, or his intense, fiery stare. Perhaps both. He was right, you should have kept your cool with Lockhart, but today had really pushed you to your limits.

"But Severus-" You protested, your anger bubbling as Snape silenced you with his icy words.

"I am not one to defend Lockhart, however, there is a serious situation at hand." Snape added quietly, though his cold tone was still there. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. "Not that it's my place, Professor L/N, but I would have thought as a Hufflepuff, you'd be abstaining from any sort of conflict, not... instigating it." He said, narrowing his hauntingly dark eyes at you.

"When it comes to stupid, incompetent mistakes that can endanger our students, I won't hesitate to say my part, Snape." You said frustratedly, leaning forwards as if to challenge him.

"Do not be foolish, Professor L/N," He stepped forwards, articulating each letter he spoke intimidatingly. You swallowed and flinched slightly at his sudden movement. As brave and courageous you painted yourself, he still did terrify you. Snape's glare deepened and he retracted himself slightly, letting his eyes flick between the pair of yours. "It seems you have not changed since your time here at Hogwarts. You are still that silly girl who did not think before she spoke."

Snape's words made you enraged. Your fists balled at the side of you once again, almost shaking. The muscles in your body tensed and went rigid from the rush of sudden anger that was coursing through you. Gods, how could someone make you feel such different emotions?

You scoffed and pushed past him, shoving his broad shoulder out of the way of you. As for now, you couldn't look at him, nor bear to be near him. You were worried you'd hex the man, or at least say something you'd regret. Despite your burning desire to hurt him back, you pushed the thought aside. You were the bigger person, and you would not stoop to his level. Unless it truly came to it, you suppose.

You stalked back to the other professors with Snape reluctantly trailing behind you. You stilled yourself beside McGonagall once more and she offered you a confused look, glancing between you and Snape as he came to stand near the wall, away from you.

You shook your head at her softly and shut your eyes for a brief moment, attempting to calm yourself down. This was not how you expected to start your second year of teaching at Hogwarts, conflicted feelings for your colleague, and developing a boiling bitterness for another. As the year progresses, perhaps you could fix it. Nothing is lost yet, right?

"She's not dead, Argus. She has been petrified." Dumbledore said in a soft tone, attempting to soothe the caretaker. Filch only stared at his beloved pet, shuffling in his spot, clearly distraught at what he'd come across. He was almost shaking with grief. A small wave of sympathy washed over you as you watched Filch try to compose himself. It couldn't be easy seeing something so dear to you hung in such a... morbid way.

However, that calm feeling was soon lost again as you saw Lockhart stood in front of Mrs Norris, inspecting the body. You quickly averted your gaze before your blood pressure rose uncontrollably and you spotted Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stood in a row, looking rather worried. Your brows knitted together in confusion.

"Ah, thought so." Lockhart said confidently, glancing back at Dumbledore. You fought the urge to scoff at Lockhart's comment by looking to the right and biting your bottom lip. Gods, this man was almost as infuriating as Snape this morning. "So unlucky I wasn't there. I know exactly the countercurse that could've spared her." Lockhart added, staring at Dumbledore uneasily. This time you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him as you folded your arms against your chest.

"But how she's been petrified I cannot say." Dumbledore added, ignoring Lockhart's useless comments, his wise eyes studying the scene at hand.

"Ask him," Filch nodded towards Potter, his voice shaky. You frowned again, glancing at the boy. Surely not? "It's him that's done it." The greasy caretaker added with a look of despair and anger on his face. "You saw what he wrote on the wall."

Harry let out a curt sigh before turning towards Dumbledore. "It's not true, sir. I swear." He said. "I never touched Mrs Norris." Harry gestured towards Filch's cat, who was still unfortunately hanging by her tail on the metal arm of the torchlight.

"Rubbish!" Filch hissed, still staring angrily at the boy.

"If I might, Headmaster?" Snape suddenly interjected, his deep voice softer than you'd heard it before. Your head instantly snapped up to look at him, shocked to hear such a tone of voice on a cruel man like him. "Perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" The Potions Master offered, seemingly wanting to deescalate the whole situation. Since when is he considerate? you wondered.

"However," Snape added, his voice returning to it's usual cold tone. There it is, you thought, fighting the itching urge to roll your eyes. "The circumstances are suspicious." Snape said, walking slowly towards the three students, almost intimidatingly. "I, for one, don't recall seeing Potter at dinner." He narrowed his eyes at the three of them, stopping just short of a metre away. He seems to have a habit of doing that.

"I'm afraid that's my doing, Severus," Lockhart called out, making Snape turn around to face him with a face like thunder. You loathed how you couldn't help but stare at him. A whirling storm of resentment and admiration gathered in your stomach as you gazed at him. Undoubtedly, he looked ethereal underneath the amber-coloured lighting in this hallway, despite the unhappy and disdainful look on his face.

Fuck. You hated it.

The flames illuminated his prominent features almost too perfectly. His large, aquiline nose and high cheekbones would ultimately be the death of you.

"You see, Harry was helping me answer my fan mail." Lockhart explained, glancing between Snape - who looked utterly confused - and Harry himself. Lockhart's voice to you was like someone scratching nails on a chalk board. Every time he spoke, the hairs on your body would stand on end - and not in a good way.

You despised the fact that these two men brought out such a hateful side of you so easily.

"That's why Ron and I went looking for him, professor," Hermione spoke up, looking towards Harry. "We'd just found him when he said..." Hermione trailed off, staring at Harry. Snape turned back to face the three students, his eyes narrowing in suspicion once again.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Snape prompted.

"When I said I wasn't hungry." Harry interjected, looking back up at Snape. Ron nodded quickly in a nervous manner, glancing between the Potions Master and his friend Harry. "We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs Norris." The boy explained. To you, it seemed like a solid explanation, however, Snape didn't seem too convinced as he spun around to look at Dumbledore, waiting for his thoughts on the whole situation.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus." Dumbledore stated, looking at Snape through his half-moon glasses. Reluctantly, you looked at Snape as he arched a brow disapprovingly at the Headmaster.

"My cat... has been petrified. I want to see some punishment!" Filch cried out, commanding your attention to him. The man was shaking with rage, and it made you a little uneasy. You glanced back at Snape, your eyes lingering a little too long on him.

"We will be able to cure her, Argus." Dumbledore assured the man, still trying to calm the tense moment. "As I understand it, Professor L/N has a very healthy growth of Mandrake." The Headmaster said, tearing you out of your daydream. Your eyes flicked to Dumbledore as he gestured at your form. Looking to Filch, you offered a warm and sympathetic smile to him, nodding in agreement with Dumbledore. "When matured, a potion will be made which will revive Mrs Norris." He said, turning towards the Potions Master and the three students.

Snape had his eyes glued to you, catching you by surprise. You immediately averted your eyes from his as your cheeks began to burn, betraying you. The overwhelming, icy stare from Snape made your heart pound against your rib cage.

Get a hold of yourself, for Merlin's sake.

Dumbledore's voice cut through the strange tension between you and Snape. The two of you broke eye-contact and looked to the older wizard. "In the meantime, I strongly recommend caution to all." The Headmaster warned, capturing your attention. You nodded at the older man, waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted to say. "Professor McGonagall, would you mind escorting Miss Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley to their respective dormitories, please?"

"Of course. This way." McGonagall walked towards the three students, gesturing them forwards with her hands. You sighed softly and bid Dumbledore a warm goodnight, turning around to walk to your quarters. As you padded away, you turned around gingerly, your inquisitive eyes searching for the broody Potions Master that made your heart beat a little faster in two different ways. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have already left. A twinge of disappointment twisted in your gut, and you felt conflicted between your emotions. That close - and almost intimate - encounter with him earlier truly made you think about things. You couldn't choose between hating him or liking him. Gods, were you in trouble now.

However, as you rounded the corner, it seemed your luck was playing out. You spotted Lockhart striding ahead of you.

there we are, part two over! whew. i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it, and i hope there weren't too many mistakes lol!

if you want to be added to the taglist below, please let me know in the comments/replies :)

thank you for reading!

part 3

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

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wedonthaveawhile · 10 days

Text

Betraying the devil you know // Part I

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Months. That's how long Marvolo Gaunt has been crushing the life out of you. One reckless decision was all it took to be dragged into his inner circle to pay for your sins. However, being his favourite informant has its perks—you hear whispers: a civil war is brewing among the Gaunt's.

Is it better the devil you know, or do you seek refuge in the arms of the enemy?

Read the prologue here.

For twenty-eight years, whispers of slander had perpetually preceded the name Ominis Gaunt.

The Daily Prophet had initially reported on the birth of the Gaunt's second son, however, the family had firmly abstained from providing any photographic proof. While they carried on parading their firstborn in the public eye, their second child seemed forever confined within the heavily guarded perimeter of their estate.

The less reputable newspapers fanned the flames of speculation, dubbing him a disfigured, mutated horror—The Broken Gaunt.

Needless to say, the glowering figure at the opposing end of the blinking wand had no deformed limbs or vampiric fangs protruding from his lips. Pale skin stretched taut over his razor-sharp, and undeniably human, features. He was taller than his brother, with a thinner frame but no less imposing.

The only departure from humanity were his eyes, which bore into her as he awaited an answer to his question.

You let us abduct you, didn't you?

"Yes," her admission came hesitantly, as if the inflection of that lone word could reveal every sin she had witnessed, and every one she had committed—her only leverage.

She could see walls of tightly stacked slate wedged between gnarled beams within the musty gloom. That and the smell indicated they were somewhere underground; the air was stagnant, poisoned with an acrid undercurrent of dark magic and scourgify charms. The combination made her stomach roil. Blood; it always meant blood.

"You don't appear overly concerned, which means my brother intended for me to find you, or you deliberately sought me out." The wizard's robes billowed as he swept closer, a glint of emerald trim contrasting against the dark fabric. "Which is it?"

"The latter."

A final crimson glow flared from his wand before he lowered it to his side, "I trust you understand the gravity of my concern. When Marvolo's lackey is found roaming alone, I..."

She thrust forward in her chair, shoulders wailing in pain from the unnatural posture they were contorted into. "I'm not... that," she bristled.

"Then what?" he retorted sharply, leather gloves creaking as his grip tensed around the notched hawthorn. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"I'm no one; I was forced into this."

"His stories say otherwise."

"He lies."

"I'm well aware."

Her captor fell silent as he paced, grit skittering off the ground with each measured step. She expected his shoes to be abraded and sullied with flecks of blood as Marvolo's often were, but they were immaculate—the polished leather glinting under flickering torchlight.

He came to a halt in front of her, and she shifted uncomfortably with nowhere to go.

"An informant stationed at the Leaky Cauldron is not no one," he said, holstering his wand. "The tales you could tell would be most intriguing, I'm sure."

"That's one way to put it," she craned her neck to better survey the desolate crypt, hunting for any sign of Marvolo's silhouette in the shadows of an alcove. If a year of serving under him had given her anything, it was a crippling sense of paranoia. "I need your help."

"Is that so?" He drawled, brushing off a spider scurrying up his wrist—the epitome of indifference.

"I know you've been following me, and I know what it is you're looking for," she said with a harder edge than she felt. "I'm prepared to offer it willingly in exchange for my protection."

"Protection from...?"

"From him. He warned us about you, said you've been search for a crack in his organisation, and what he'd do if any of us were caught..." She could feel the heat of Marvolo's breath hissing into her ear, his fingers constricting around her throat. She forced her voice to remain steady. "I'm your way in; I'll tell you everything I know for… I don't know, fuck… a safe house?"

One of the wizards stationed by the barricaded door let out a derisive snort, which was abruptly silenced by a piercing glare from his boss.

"I have veritaserum, and now I have you. Any reward you receive for the effort I've put in to obtain both would be nothing short of generosity."

"Are you generous?"

He found that amusing, smirking down at her briefly before snapping back to cold indifference. "How can you be certain I won't return you to him?"

"Because I know what he did to you."

A muscle twitched in his jaw—a fleeting tic, but she saw it.

"He shares a lot with you. He must trust you."

"Not at all; he just thinks it's impressive."

His ghostly eyes burned with distrust as he dragged a finger across his lips. "Then how did you fall into his circle?"

Her bravado dissipated as her humbled gaze fell to the floor, "I didn't know it was him…"

She flinched as a figure surfaced from the shadows to present a scrap of parchment before skulking back into the dark. Ominis Gaunt bit down on the tip of his glove, stripping it off before curling his fingers and gliding one over the embossed text.

A scoff broke free from her throat before she could rein it in—all those rumours swirling around him for years... His family's efforts to shield him from society.… all because he was blind? How anticlimactic.

She clenched her lip between her teeth as those sightless eyes pinned her down.

"Keep talking."

"I… uh, I thought he was just another drunk customer passing through. He was showing off some gold ornament, bragging about the risks he took to get it..." She paused to swallow her embarrassment. "My friend and I... we needed money."

"You stole from Marvolo Gaunt," he lifted his head with a scornful sneer of disparagement. "What did you take?"

"A relic," she replied dryly, taking pleasure in how her words wiped the arrogant smirk off his face. "The relic he murdered your friends for."

The weight of his rage was palpable, his fingers twitching as he wrung the note clenched between them until the tearing grain finally broke him from his deliberation.

He gave a terse nod to the wizards on either side of the bolted door.

"Leave."

When the slam of oak against the stone lintel subsided, the room sank into a heavy silence. His body was still as marble, save for the methodical dart of his calculating eyes.

"I can't live like this," she pleaded. "I'm worth your time; I've been listening for months, soaking it all in just for the chance to share it with you. And when he shows himself to take me back, you could—"

His posture straightened with a renewed interest in what she had to offer. "You can lure him out of hiding?"

"He'll come for me," she said firmly, and she meant it. "You and I have a common interest, and I want us to work together to make it happen."

"That shared interest being my brother, dead."

The abruptness of the question clouded her thoughts in suspicion.

Was this a trap?

What if the Gaunt brothers were working together? What if the rumours of their feud were some bullshit story to—

"It's not a trick question," his silken voice sliced through the tangled ivy of her thoughts. "Is that what you want?"

If this plan went up in flames, she was as good as dead anyway, by her own hand or Marvolo's if he beat her to it. There was nothing left to lose.

"Yes."

He stalked around her, icy fingers closing tightly around her arm.

"Don't fucking touch me," she spat, wrenching away in a panic.

Such defiance would have earned her a backhand from his brother, but there was something distinctly less psychotic about this Gaunt than the one she had escaped.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have you dragged back to where my men found you and let my brother finish the job." He sought out the rope and murmured an incantation to untangle her from its grip. "My hands are, and will always remain, clean. Don't delude yourself into believing you're worth tarnishing them."

Her arms spasmed as they hung limp and utterly useless at her sides; she was at a loss for what to do with them. "Thank you."

"Is everything you've told me the truth?"

"It is."

He withdrew a galleon from his pocket and altered its form into a chair, which he positioned in front of her and took a seat. She braced herself against the stiff wooden back of her own as she rotated her raw, chafed wrists.

"I want you to understand that I hate resorting to these measures, but it's necessary for corroborating your story."

"What measures?"

"Look at me, please."

Before she could process the implication of his request, connect the dots and realise the power he held, her eyes instinctively met his. He exploited the connection to slam his way into her mind.

His mental intrusion sliced through her memories like a sharpened blade through flesh, flaying each one until they lay exposed before him, ripe for his scrutiny.

He pulverised her every attempt to occlude and expel him from her thoughts, smothering her internal cries until it was near silence in the wreckage of her consciousness.

The psychological interrogation began with that night—she could hear her inner dialogue and see her life unfolding like a twisted theatre.

She was watching from the bar as the polyjuiced patron brandished his treasure, laughing uproariously as he recounted the price he paid to claim it. The Leaky Cauldron hosted a constant rotation of travellers; it wouldn't be the first time that something pretty found its way into her bag.

Suddenly, she was in the candlelit hallway of her flat, sliding off her shoes beside Poppy's and padding across the chipped floorboards to the kitchen.

She couldn't shut her eyes, couldn't turn away from the memory projecting onto the dark canvas of her closed eyelids.

Marvolo had followed her home; he had Poppy.

Please, stop.

Ominis' legilimency snuffed out her begging.

For the second time in her life, a Gaunt forced her to watch as the radiant light faded from Poppy's eyes. Scarlet spilled from her lacerated throat as the diffindo tore apart her efforts to scream run —the kitchen knife she wielded as her last line of defence lodged between her ribs.

Get the fuck out of my head.

She felt the mental pull to collapse, but her mind was a marionette, strings pulled taut to forcibly suspend it upright against her body's every instinct. It was excruciating; the occasions she had angered Marvolo enough to warrant a taste of the Cruciatus Curse were the only experiences that came close.

Ominis glanced over the tasks she had been compelled to carry out—ranging from thefts of the ministry's highest-ranking officials, to luring naïve wizards into an ambush, to the deliveries of forbidden artefacts...

He then flitted to what he needed to confirm her worth—Marvolo's threats, sifting through the warnings as if her mind were a catalogued library.

No one will ever touch your skin again; every inch of you belongs to me.

If you ever try to run, I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth to raze you from it myself.

I'll rip out the throat of anyone who dares lay a hand on what is mine.

Satisfied, he finally wrenched free from her mind, nearly causing her to black out.

Words stumbled across her tongue, just beyond the reach of her unresponsive mind.

"Don't…" send me back.

She reeled forward and felt fingers dig into her shoulder to stop her from slipping to the ground, followed by a rush of displaced air as Ominis Gaunt disapparated them both.

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ginnyw-potter · 4 months

Text

A hungover Harry in her bed

Full oneshot also on AO3.

Ginny woke up with a low throbbing in her head. She had too much to drink last night, but that probably meant it was one hell of a new year celebration. She was currently still a little fuzzy on the details. Something shifted beside her and she froze.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling wondering if she had imagined it. Then she felt something move again and she became aware of the shape beside her.

“Wha—?” Her head snapped to the left and she saw the mop of black hair, the shape of a man. “Aah!”

“Aah!” the man yelled, pushing off the bed in surprise and landed on the carpet beside her floor with a loud thud.

“Harry?!” she said and quickly glanced down, but to her immense relief she was not naked.

The poor guy looked at her in complete terror and then to the door as it swung open, and his eyes widened with even more terror as Ron appeared.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Ron noted calmly as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Ginny gaped at him. “Why are you not more surprised about this?”

“Trust me, I am enjoying your utter surprise right now,” he said, pointing between the two of them.

Harry groaned and let himself drop back down on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling.

“But you two snogged last night. Well and properly...” Ron eyed them knowingly as he mimicked pulling someone in for a kiss. “Face-sucking... French kissing, German... a whole world tour...”

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny let out and some vague memories of what they had done was starting to seep back into her mind.

Harry let out a strained, garbled sound from the floor.

“And you let us get in bed together when we were that drunk?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded happily. “Yes, after I put a no-sex spell on you.”

Harry muttered a ‘thank, fuck’, muted a little because half his face was buried in the fluffy carpet.

“How do you know how to do that spell?” Ginny asked.

“Mum asked,” Ron told her with even more glee. “After you gave her the happy news when she came home at 2 AM, announcing Harry was your new—”

“Don’t even say it,” she cut him off. “Mum knows?”

Ron nodded happily. “Oh, yes.”

Harry groaned.

“If you are planning on puking, I suggest you don’t do that on my carpet because there is no amount of scourgify to get it from out of all those strands,” Ginny told Harry.

He glanced at her for just a moment and then continued to stare ahead of him, his eyes glazed over. “I’m not.”

Ron smiled at the two of them. “You make quite a pair. I’ll leave you to it... Oh and before I forget...” He ducked into the corridor for a moment. He came back with two potions. “Hangover potions. I think you’ll need them.”

Ginny grabbed one of them and Ron placed the other on the floor in the vicinity of Harry. Then he slowly closed the door. Ginny could hear him go down the stairs.

She took up the potion and gulped it down, the sooner she drank it the better, and perhaps the queasy feeling would leave her. She gave it a moment to settle in her stomach and she immediately felt some relief. She stepped out of bed, picked up Harry’s potion, and handed it to him.

He sat up enough just to drink it and she leaned against the side of her bed. He emptied the vial and set it down. He rested his head back on the carpet.

“Cute underwear, Harry,” she said.

He shook his head. “Don’t.”

“Maybe it’s for the better we didn’t have sex,” she said.

“I wouldn’t want to have sex with you and then not remember,” he replied. Then he frowned. “That came out wrong.”

She bent over, her face appearing above his. “Think that came out as you meant it.” She lay down on the carpet beside him. “If my mum thinks we’re together...”

“You announced it,” he retorted. “Apparently.”

She groaned. “Ugh, I’m such a tattler when I’m drunk.”

“You do a pretty good job at it too when you’re sober.”

She slapped her hand towards him without looking and aimed a little too low. To her surprise her hand bounced right off before it even touched him, like a shield. “Oh.” She did it again and the same thing happened. “I guess that spell is still working.”

Harry turned his head. “I would really appreciate it if you would stop aiming for my junk.”

She chuckled. “Sorry.”

***

After a very awkward breakfast where the both of them tried to pretend like nothing was out of the ordinary, Harry stepped out into the garden.

Ginny finished washing up and then pulled on her coat and scarf. She picked up her boots by the door and quickly slipped into them. She walked to the bench he was sitting. “Can I?” She pointed at the vacant spot beside him.

“Sure,” he said, adjusting his position so his arm was out of the way.

Ginny sat beside him, only leaving a little space between them. “That’s not how last night was supposed to go.”

“No,” he agreed.

She offered him an amused smile. “I never thought you’d look so terrified to find a girl in your bed.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “Yeah, well. It was your bed in your parents’ house. Your whole family...” he trailed off. “It’s a little daunting.”

“Suppose it is,” she said.

“I must admit,” Harry started carefully. “That I’ve sort of started to fancy you over the last year.”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, she offered him a smile. “I have fancied you for a really long time.”

Harry’s arm came around her shoulder and she leaned towards him, resting her head on his shoulder. He rested his head against hers.

“You have a hickey on your neck,” she said after a moment of silence.

“I know,” he said lightly.

She closed her eyes, resting against him enjoying his body heat. “If your hands are cold, I’m happy to hold them.”

#hinny #fic

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lemongrass77777 · 27 days

Text

It was midnight. Severus walked toward the patch of bushes near the black lake. He’d be in huge trouble of he got caught, but it was worth it for some alone time with his precious.

He stared at his bush, at its luscious foliage, its leaves illuminated by the moonlight.

He stood next his precious, and disrobed his clothing. Then took his hard dick into his hands. It was warm against his cold palms. He stroked it slowly, then pumped it at a punishing pace. He’d have to be quick. He approached his climax quickly, thinking of his bush being fertilzed by his semen. He spilled onto the leaves.

“Scourgify,” he casted wandlessly. He got on the ground and caressed the its green blades. Here was his home, with his love.

**********************************************************************

author regrets everything

@expectopatronum81 @forestdeath1 @cdailaincao

#Severus x bushes #Severus Snape #Harry Potter #Post

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year

Text

Aesop Sharp NSFT Alphabet

I needed to write it. That is all.

[gif made amateurly by me]

tw: very explicit sexual content and much more

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aesop gets very gentle after sex, high on endorphins from his orgasm. He’s way more open, more prone to smile, and seeking physical contact. He usually just casts a wandless Scourgify on the two of you, as he doesn’t want to get out of bed, his eyes getting heavy rapidly. If you two make love during the day and have nowhere to be, he takes a twenty minute nap afterwards. Sleep comes to him easily after a nice orgasm.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It took him a long time to stop loathing his body, his leg for failing him like it did, and it takes him an even longer time to actually start liking anything about himself again. He supposes he’s fond of his hands, their expertise with potions enabling him to have a job he quite enjoys, and, of course, his brain. Not even an injury so severe as the one he suffered is enough to dull his wit.

He is fond of pretty much everything about you, but he feels particularly enamoured with your eyes - the looks you send his way, the openness and fondness with which you observe him - it’s enough to make shivers run up his spine, enough to set his blood on fire, enough to make his heart squeeze in his chest. He hasn’t felt this way since he was a teenager and he secretly loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He does enjoy coming across your face, or your body, but it doesn’t give him the same kick it gives some other men. He is, however, obsessed with finishing inside, whichever opening, but mainly your cunt. He feels as if he’s marking you, claiming you as his and his only, and he loves feeling your walls clenching him, milking him until the last drop. The amount is also larger than average, something one needs to be prepared for when fellating him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you happen to accidentally leave your underwear in his chambers, he will hang onto them. He feels incredibly dirty to do so, and he feels even dirtier bringing them up to his nose when he’s alone, lying naked on his bed, teasing himself, but not dirty enough to not do it. He would never tell you, but you suspect something may be up, considering one evening you arrived at his chambers wearing one pair, then leaving the next day wearing entirely different ones, freshly washed. Neither you ever mention it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s very experienced, even though he could count the number of women he’s had sex with on one hand. He’s a quick learner and a generous lover by nature, though, so he is able to play you perfectly after just a while. His quick mind catalogues every reaction to every touch, and it enables him to do whatever he wants with you. If he wants to make you come in under a minute, he definitely will.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

He likes every position in which he is face to face with you, but he’s especially fond of you riding him, as he can watch your face while you take your pleasure the way you want it, and once you’re on the very edge, he grabs your hips hard to guide you up and down his cock at a brutal pace, chasing his own release. Before his leg is fully healed, there won’t be any sex while standing, for obvious reasons, but you needn’t despair, because the professor is perfectly able to bring you to completion in every other position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He’s more on the serious side, though it doesn't mean he does not smile or laugh at all. He’s not going to be telling you jokes mid-coitus, but he will sometimes release a chuckle or a witty little comment when your reactions to his movements are particularly thunderous, or when a swear word or two roll out of your mouth unconsciously.

“Heh, my my, that would’ve made a sailor blush, my sweet.”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Aesop is very hirsute. Particularly on his chest and stomach, his pubic area, his forearms and his legs. His back and bottom are mostly bare, save for a light peach fuzz. He keeps himself tidy, his pubes neatly trimmed regularly, even before you become intimate together, mainly because of hygiene and his own comfort. His body hair is dark and soft to the touch.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He spent a lot of time being emotionally unavailable, the few sexual encounters after his injury being anything but intimate. So when you appear in his life, he realises just how touch starved he is. He is very intimate, very contact focused and very intense. He needs to have you entirely, anything less is simply not enough. He often kisses during sex, and he gives you breathless little praises and compliments, which are rolling off his tongue nearly unconsciously.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Barely, both before and after entering a relationship with you. Before: as the afterglow passed, he was left bitter and sorrowful, because he was all alone, because his pleasure was brought by his own right hand as opposed to some beautiful witch who actually desired him. The only time he really allowed himself to indulge was after drinking a phial of Draught of Peace, before going to sleep.

There is a bit of an increase in his indulging after you two are in a relationship but are not yet intimate. He doesn’t feel bitter after that, as he’s imagining you and keeps telling himself that his fantasies will get fulfilled later on in your relationship. They indeed do, and his masturbation rate goes down again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He can get rather possessive and dominant, if you let him, marking your skin with his teeth and being a little more rough. There can be hair pulling, maybe some light choking, a lot of biting. He’ll love it if you pull on his hair as well, or maybe slap him a little. He’s also quite fond of blindfolding you and tying you to the bed, edging you until you beg for him (you don’t even remember whether you’re begging for him to stop or continue at that point).

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed, most definitely, as he likes to nap for a bit after sex. Many other places are also good in this regard; the sofa, the armchair, Aesop’s office, the broom cupboard on the 5th floor where nobody ever goes… Bed is best, though, the other places make all kinds of kinks appear in his back. He prefers to make love to you in private, but is willing to take you almost anywhere with at least partial privacy, if you get your thrill from semi-public sex. He has no problem staying completely quiet.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Considering how intimacy and touch starved he is, it really doesn’t take a lot, given he is in the right mindset. There are days when he’s not feeling well, physically or emotionally, there are days when he’s simply too tired, and it’s just physical closeness and affection he craves on such days. He more than makes up for it when he’s feeling better though. Many things can get him in the mood; looking at your body, suggestive conversation, biting his lips, kissing his neck, etc. One of your 100% success rate working tricks is what you call simply ‘The Look’. Head a little tilted to the side, looking at him through your lashes, your lower lip between your teeth, your hands fidgeting. That look drives him wild.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation and public sex.

He can get a little rough, you may leave his bed bruised, sore, and overstimulated, with visible bite marks, but you’ll do so being called ‘beautiful’, and ‘brilliant’ and ‘his good girl’. He’s never going to call you any insulting, derogatory terms, because that’s just not who he is. If you attempt to degrade him, it’ll be a major turn off. He wants you to slap his face, not his soul.

Semi-public sex is quite alright with him if he knows the two of you won’t get caught. He really doesn’t want to get caught; Firstly because he doesn’t want your honour to suffer because of it, and secondly because what you two have together is yours, and only yours. He’s a very private person who believes your lovemakings should be just that: private.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Aesop Sharp can go down on you like he’s getting paid for it. He’s very very skilled with his mouth, using everything, tongue, lips and teeth. He’s normally a little self-conscious about his slightly crooked teeth and large nose, but they both prove plenty useful when he’s using his mouth on you. He loves doing it, in all honesty, and he can go on doing it for hours. It’s absolutely no problem for him to finish with you, as he pushes you over the edge with his mouth, devouring you like a man starved.

He likes receiving as much as any other fellow, praising you throughout, his fingers combing through your hair gently. He doesn’t push you unless you ask him to, doesn’t thrust up into your mouth unless he knows you can handle it. He’s not exactly small and the last thing he wants is to make you choke on him, or make you gag too much. Just imagining what could happen if he did make you gag too much is a little revolting. Talk about a moodkill.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Preferes to take his time, build your mutual pleasure steadily, let it fill you entirely and only then he picks up the pace considerably, the sudden change in speed making the inevitable climax more intense. However, as was said before, he’s a very skilled, generous lover and he absolutely can adapt to whichever mood either of you may have. There have been lovemakings so slow and sweet, that neither of you raise your voice even upon your orgasm, and there of course were couplings so hard and fast, you were close to fainting by the end of them. Aesop can do it all and he can do it really well.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Occasionally. He really likes to take his time, and he’s a major foreplay enthusiast, but there are days when one or both of you simply don’t have enough time, despite wanting to be intimate together. Aesop is effective, meticulous and passionate, like he is in everything he does. Both of you are able to reach your finish in a matter of minutes, giving each other blissed out smiles and kisses, hanging onto one another as if your lives depended on it. However, if there is even a small chance that Aesop would be able to have normal, unhurried sex with you if he only waits a few hours, he will forgo the quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He’s definitely willing to experiment, not judging anything until he’s tried it, unless it’s something very risky and potentially dangerous. That’s where he draws the line. It still leaves a lot of wonderful things for you to try and decide if it’s something you enjoy together or not. Temperature play with ice? Lovely, exciting, will do again. Wax play? Well, you were nearly certain you probably did it wrong, but you did it wrong enough for you to never want to try it again. Ouch.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has brilliant stamina and control, and can last for a long time, but he does have a longer recovery period, which he blames on his age. You disagree with the statement wholeheartedly, blaming it instead on the fact that he’s perfectly able to be at it for hours if he wants to. He can go for two quite lengthy, mind blowing rounds with a pause between, perhaps a little nap, too.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does own a few fun things he likes to use. Velvety blindfolds and tapes to bind you, an assortment of objects to be used on you once you’ve been properly restrained, ranging from a fluffy feather to a (very carefully used) crop. They are used only occasionally, to spice things up a bit, for example after you’ve both had a long, difficult day. He’s been on the receiving end of these a couple of times, and is a little embarrassed to say how much he enjoyed it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does enjoy a fair share of teasing, but he’s never mean in it. He may edge you a little if you’re both comfortable with it, he may miss your sweet spots on purpose in order to make your arousal grow just a little more, but if he sees you’re really desperate, if he knows you really need to come, he won’t dare rid you of the orgasm. He possesses a kind of physical empathy that lets him know when he can tease you and when he cannot.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is perfectly able to be nearly silent the entire time, ragged breathing his only sound, but he chooses not to when he knows your ears are the only ones that’ll hear him. He prefers to let his sounds flow off his lips naturally, and it’s something he likes in you as well. He doesn’t need you to scream or moan your lungs out to know you’re having a good time, so be natural, and if you feel a moan coming onto you, don’t stifle it and don’t exaggerate it. He won’t either. His sounds are usually little grunts and groans in the beginning, but will progressively turn into small moans once he’s getting close. The only sound that might be considered louder is the one he makes once he actually reaches his climax, and it’s the only one he’ll try to muffle a little, by kissing or biting you, out of slight self-consciousness.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One of Aesop’s fortes is his openness about sex itself - he’s no blushing virgin and he’s no vulgar sailor. Sex is just completely natural to him and he sees no reason not to call things the way they are, or even not to talk about sex at all. He knows Muggles think of sex as if it was something shameful and sinful, hiding behind colourful names for normal body parts, as opposed to what sex actually is - something natural, pleasant and beautiful.

It makes it really easy for you to discuss anything with him, maybe even learning some new things about your own body in the process, as he doesn’t blush or stutter or say ‘such matters are unfit to be discussed’, like Muggles might do. He knows his anatomy and he knows yours, and it's pleasant not to have to explain to him why you don’t want to be intimate this week.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is large. It should really be expected with the size of this man that his tools would be proportionally well endowed. Seven inches in length when erect, but he is girthy. Uncircumsized, with a large, dark pink tip, a few well defined veins. He definitely fills you to the brim, but can be a bit difficult to fellate. His left bollock hangs slightly lower than the other one and they are quite sensitive.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

After his injury and before entering a relationship with you? Nearly nonexistent. For a year after the injury, the pain was so bad, he couldn’t even get it up, which made him consider himself impotent, only adding salt to the wound. He regained his potency later on and engaged in a few one night stands, but his emotional/intimate unavailability made the sex feel tense and the orgasms barely worth the effort.

After becoming your partner, his sex drive rose considerably, as he allowed you in, allowed you to see his vulnerable side. Having the ability to be open with you sets his mind at ease and allows him to not only find himself craving your touch and the union of your bodies, but also lets him perform nearly as good as he would have performed before his injuries. Being a little older, his hormones a little calmer, he actually sometimes performs even better than he would in his younger years.

Now he has a very healthy appetite for sex, perhaps a little bigger than an average man of his age. He can control himself very well, his body mostly obedient unless there’s some un-ignorable stimulus right in front of him - he wouldn’t be able to force his erection down even if he was dead, that one time you came into his office wearing only your school robe and nothing else.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

At night he tends to fall asleep quite quickly after a nice lovemaking. He does clean the two of you up with a spell, he does talk to you and kiss you gently as you cuddle under the blanket, but he’s out like a light before long. He cuddles you out of his sleep, and sometimes snores. If you were to tell him that, though, he’d be very insistent that he does not, in fact, snore. He’s never snored in his entire life.

i hope you liked it! you can also check it out on AO3, as well as all of my other works.

#hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp smut #nsft alphabet #fanfiction #headcanon list #aesop sharp headcanons #this is straight up filth dont tell my mum i wrote this #good day my fellow sharpies today i bring you p**n

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shanastoryteller · 3 months

Note

Happy Valentines Day Grandma!! Could you continue Ron the wingman au? 💗💗

a continuation of 1 2 3

He leaves the Ravenclaw common room the next morning, humming with his hands in his pockets. Lisa had let him use the shower - with a bit of distraction - and a scourgify had made his clothes wearable again, but his books were still in his dorm. Maybe he could ask Hermione to get them? Although, with his luck, she'll be on Harry's side and ready to curse him too. Dean or Seamus would do it. Neville would decline to get in the middle of it, unfortunately.

It's breakfast time, so he decided to risk entering the tower again. His legs are much longer than Harry's. He can always outrun him.

He pokes his head around the corner of the entrance while the Fat Lady sighs loudly. "Hey," he whispers to Dennis. "Is Harry here?"

He looks up from his essay, ink smudged along his jaw. Poor boy. "What? No. We thought you two were beating each other up in the woods or something."

Ron stares. "Why?"

Dennis shrugs. "He didn't come back last night either. We figured he was doing whatever you were."

Well, he certainly hopes not.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter

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sailtomarina · 9 months

Text

Make it right

Draco spat the blood out of his mouth before wiping his chin clean. Shame burned low in his stomach at the reality of it all: his return to Hogwarts after the trial, his sentencing to ten years of Ministry work following graduation, and his inability to defend himself under the strict guidelines of his probation. Each day brought with it new tortures in the form of taunts, hexes, and fists. The worst part was that he didn’t even try to avoid punishment. He chased it the way his friends used to take potions—often, and in great quantities.

Like, for example, today.

He could have walked away the second class ended, made his way back to the castle and the safety of his dorm room. Instead, he’d watched Hagrid saunter off into the Forbidden woods to gather Acromantula venom, gathering his belongings in as slow a manner as possible.

He’d seen the way Finnegan glared at him throughout the entire duration of class, how he’d exchanged whispers and nods with the other wizards near him.

The jelly-legs jinx hit him just as he made to stand with his bag, sending him sprawling face first into the boulder towards which he faced. He’d turned his head just in time to avoid a broken nose, but the impact on his teeth still cut up the inside of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you move, or at the very least, block that?”

He didn’t have to turn around to recognize that voice. It was the voice he heard in his dreams tinted with screams and piss and so much blood.

It was the voice he most desired and feared. Of anyone, she was the one who most deserved justice against him. He wanted her to kick and scream at him, call him all the terrible names he knew fit.

“Because it’s the very least I can offer them.”

She cast the counterspell, and Draco stood to brush the dirt off his clothes, leaving smears in their wake. He could use a charm to vanish the mess, but he hardly ever used magic outside of classes anymore. The weight of his wand felt like clasping the hand of a stranger now, rather than the comforting friend it had always been in the past.

“Scourgify.”

The marks he’d left behind vanished. He turned around to yell at Granger for her meddling and complete lack of self-preservation. The words never left his lips, instead becoming trapped on his tongue as she moved the tip of her wand up to his face without the slightest hesitation. Was this the moment he’d been waiting for?

“Episkey.”

The sharp pain in his cheek faded to nothing, and he probed the spot with his tongue to verify the cuts had healed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Her actions didn’t make any sense to him. She shouldn’t be here, cleaning him up and casting healing spells.

“Righting a wrong,” she said, her voice calm and steady as if the response was only natural.

“Righting a wrong.”

He couldn’t help but repeat what she’d said, in utter disbelief at the implication. “Are you daft?”

“What’s daft, Malfoy, is you seeking out every single person looking for petty revenge.” Her rebuke was quick, slapping him with her disapproval.

“Finnegan deserves some satisfaction just as much as I deserve punishment,” he choked out. This was the first time he’d dared utter them aloud, even though he’d said them to himself a million times and more. He chanted them, repeated them almost like a prayer each night.

“Looking for pain the way that you are doesn’t make any of it right.” Her gaze, a clear shade of light brown like the honey he stirred into his tea, pierced him straight through. She saw too much.

Then again, she always had.

Trapped under his eyes the way that he was and feeling a rare moment of naked honesty, he again let out more of his true self.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

At that admission, she cocked her head to the side, chewing on her lip like she often did when considering a particularly trying problem. Her brows rose, lighting up as an idea came to mind.

“Catch.”

Not a half second later, her bag was flying towards him. He caught it just before it hit the ground, the weight of the shelf’s-worth of books she must have stuffed into it nearly knocking him on his arse.

“Bloody hell, Granger, this thing must weigh more than a hippogriff,” he grunted, hoisting the bundle more evenly into his arms. She smirked at the gripe, remembering a specific hippogriff and his specific blunder then.

“You’re my study buddy now, and you’ll accompany me to and from class and the library until graduation. Your choice, of course.” Spinning on her heels, she started her ascent back to the castle with the full expectation of his acquiescing to her offer.

Draco’s mind went through a series of mental gymnastics over the turn of events as he watched the distance increasing between them. He could drop her books and go his own way. Malfoys didn’t bow to others.

Unless they were Voldemort.

Or sentenced to Azkaban.

Or…

He could swallow his pride and follow the witch. Maybe she knew the real meaning of justice. Maybe she could help him figure out who he was outside of the family name and the Mark.

His mind made up, he grit his teeth and took the first step towards a future of his own making. He found Granger stopped and facing his way as she waited. The smile that stretched across her face when she noticed him moving hit him as hard, if not harder, than her ridiculous bag.

A smile for him rather than at his expense.

With she the giver and he the recipient, the smile took on a whole new meaning. Perhaps instead of seeking his own pain, he could seek joy for her and, just maybe, for himself.

WC 999

Juuuuuut shy of 1K, let's go!

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

#dramione #dramione prompt #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dramione prompts #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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ravenelyx · 6 months

Text

I Love You In Every Timeline - Sebastian Sallow

My Love is as a Fever, Longing Still

Fic masterlist

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance for the reader

Themes: angst, temporarily unrequited love, pining, some form of transference¹, developing relationship, slow burn, explicit (eventually)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe." In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: SHE'S BACKKKK

AO3 • Wattpad

Sebastian decided to walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, to the Undercroft, praying it would still be there, untouched by other students. When he arrived, he saw the familiar clock, and his heart swelled in fear and anticipation as he took out his wand and flourished it like he had done so many times he practically relied on muscle memory alone.

The clock hands started to turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a door opened to the familiar room that he considered an analogue to his house. He stepped in carefully and looked around. The furniture hadn’t moved an inch in a hundred years, still in the same position that Ominis knew by memory. He wondered about him: if he knew Sebastian would one day disappear forever only to remain stuck in the future, if he had waited for him in that same room hoping for him to come back, or if he was glad he was gone after all.

Sebastian wondered if he would ever return to his time: if Ominis and Anne had been waiting for him their entire lives, getting old without him, and if they had hoped that they would one day see him again, and then he had another terrifying thought: what if he went back yet it was too late?

What if all of his pals were much older than him once he did? What if, upon his return, he discovered Anne still suffering the effects of the curse, or worse yet, already deceased? What if Ominis had been made to return to his family, where he would have either changed into one of them or been tortured and murdered? What if she had found someone else to fall in love and share the rest of her life with, or what if the perilous journeys she was compelled to take killed her and he had not been there to save her?

" Scourgify!" he declared, pointing his wand at various objects around him to clean them, wishing he could reproduce the same effect on his mind.

Once he was done, he sat down, leaned against a column, and put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and feeling his eyes burn.

The calm had gone, replaced by pure, utter despair and panic. It had only been a few hours since he'd found himself there, confused and startled, and he knew it would be many more until he went back — if ever.

If ever .

The thought cut at his lungs like sharp glass, drawing quiet and wet sobs. He didn't know whether the artefact could ever be repaired at all. He didn't know whether he could control it enough to go back if it was repaired. For all he knew, he'd find himself in bloody Mesopotamia, if he was lucky enough to survive another travel. Or he'd get stuck between time and space, forever embedded in the threads between realities.

Based on those thoughts alone, Sebastian felt like he should be grateful to have found himself still in Hogwarts, as safe as he could be, but he wasn't.

He missed his routine, his life, his friends. He had disappointed Ominis, but he would give anything to hear his voice now, even if he yelled at him, to see Anne even if she did not want to see him, to read their old letters over and over again, to accompany her on whatever adventure she was setting out on. Heck , he wanted to hear Headmaster Black's voice scolding him for his horrible detention record, listen to Poppy ramble about her dear magical creatures, see Garreth blow up his potions, and even wanted to hear Imelda complain about Quidditch being cancelled. He missed it all.

He spent some time there alone — he did not know whether it was minutes or hours — weeping silently to himself. His wrists copiously moved to his eyes in a weak attempt to dry his tears, which kept falling nonetheless, undaunted, wetting his cardigan and shirt and skin.

Sebastian had always prided himself in his capacity to bottle up emotions, to avoid the crying and instead channelling those goopy feelings into something more useful, like studying or spellcasting. That had backfired, and Sebastian had to learn, awfully, that doing that didn't mean those emotions wouldn't force their way out in a way or another, and after what had happened in the Catacombs, where his feelings had exploded in the worst way imaginable, he had reluctantly decided that crying alone was the best way to let them flow naturally. With that and everything that had happened to him within a few weeks, not to mention the previous events, he felt overwhelmed.

He hated it.

After drying his tears as best he could, hoping that no one would notice his glistening eyes or swollen face, he decided to leave the Undercroft and find Ron and Hermione again; they were to give him his timetable, as he would join their class starting the next day. That was before he abandoned them.

He stepped out of the room and froze in his steps. You were sitting on the ground just outside, back against the wall, focused on your textbook. You looked up once you heard a noise, and saw a dishevelled and surprised Sebastian staring straight at you.

"Oh, well, hello again, new fifth-year!" You smiled politely.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face away slightly and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose again, in case any stray tears were still present.

"'Didn't know about another secret passage in the school," you continued, apparently ignoring his actions, before muttering to yourself, " It wasn't on the Map. "

"Map?" he said in a rough, unfamiliar voice, surprising even himself.

You examined him, a quizzical expression on your face. "Have you been crying?" you asked bluntly, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

Great job, Sebastian. Perfect disguise.

He felt his cheeks warm up, and he turned away again. "No... not at all." He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to switch up the conversation when his eyes fell on your book. "What are you reading?"

You frowned slightly, obviously not believing him, but understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, and looked back at your book. "My Herbology book. Ron gave it back to me at lunch. Finally , I’d say."

Sebastian paused for a moment, unsure whether it was appropriate to ask about what happened in the corridor, but then he felt that ache again, right above his navel, and the words slipped from his mouth without restraint. "Did you two—"

"Don't." You interrupted him and averted your eyes, staring down at the cover musingly. "Don't bring it up again. That was already embarrassing as it was."

Sebastian stayed quiet, his eyes never leaving your form. He would very much have liked to just plunge into your brain at that moment and make himself at home there.

Perhaps he needed to add 'Learn Legilimency' to his to-do list.

"How so?" he asked at length, quite stupidly, he realised.

"I lost my temper," you said simply and forced your eyes back towards him. Your next words seemed to eject out of your mouth painfully, like they were unfamiliar to you, and it took a while for you to utter them. You sighed, "I— I suppose… I owe you an apology."

An apology never felt so forced and so sincere at the same time. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do. It wasn't the best impression I made of myself." Your lips parted as you leaned your head back on the wall. "I suppose I have to apologise to Ron as well — properly, I mean."

Sebastian stayed quiet, observing you curiously. Why were you telling him all that? "I... suppose," he uttered, not knowing what else to say. That appeared to be enough for you because you didn't even seem to acknowledge his words.

"He was looking for you, you know? Hermione, too. They said they needed to give you your schedule."

"Ah, yes, they mentioned that before," said Sebastian, glad to change the topic. "I’ll meet them promptly then, I was—"

"—Too busy hiding in a place no one else knew about," you continued for him.

That made him still in his steps, a chill running down his spine. Your eyes met: his open wide, yours unwavering and daring him to contradict your statement.

Perhaps the previous topic was way better.

"I just..." Come on, Sebastian, think!

"I just stumbled upon it!"

Usually, he was one to conjure lies out of thin air, but being around you made his brain seem to melt. Sebastian thought that it was because he didn't really want to lie to you, or perhaps it was because, with the way your eyes pierced him, he felt as if you already knew all his secrets, all his lies, and you certainly wouldn't be fooled, not even if he made up a whole story full of intricacies and chapters worth publishing.

He knew, however, that the answer was neither, and it lay deeper than anything he was willing to admit to himself so loudly that he had to face it.

"Right."

You closed your book and stood up, facing him. He couldn't read your expression properly, but he felt his body start to uncharacteristically shrivel at the intensity with which you stared him down. He was in Ron's place.

"Strange, isn’t it? how the new student suddenly stumbles upon a secret room on his first day — a room not even Fred and George know about."

You had spoken that last part quietly, as if only to yourself. In fact, Sebastian didn’t know who Fred and George were at all. And, frankly, he didn't want to. "What can I say? I’m full of surprises," he replied smoothly.

"Or full of lies." You hadn’t missed a beat.

It was frightening how easily you had switched back to the girl he had met in the corridor. And he pitied it. And he liked it. And perhaps he was a fool for liking it, and an even bigger fool for pitying it. "I didn’t know it was illegal to be in this room," he said, scowling.

" Illegal ? Oh, not at all. But certainly unusual for someone who has supposedly never set foot in this school before."

You took a step towards him, and he had to fight the urge to take one back himself. There was something wrong in the air — something goopy and misty and heavy, penetrating his skin like Mallowsweet fumes, inebriating and dizzying and frighteningly close to losing control. He had only felt it once, in Hogsmeade nonetheless. Electric and impatient, but, now, shrouded. That day, it had been galvanising. Now it was almost shy — almost… veiled.

"Hermione told me that she barely only took you through the first two floors. You're not even supposed to know about the classroom's whereabouts, and yet you seem all too comfortable with your surroundings," you continued, unaware.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate. Why did you have to be so inquisitive? Was he supposed to tell you the truth now?

Dumbledore’s voice came back to his mind: "... unless it's absolutely necessary. "

"I don’t know what you're talking about. It was an accident, as I said," replied Sebastian in a poor attempt to reason again, knowing full well you wouldn't believe him.

"Certainly a convenient one." He twitched involuntarily, like he had just got a shock. The corners of your lips lifted in a sneer. "You are an interesting case... Sebastian, was it?"

He nodded hesitantly and narrowed his eyes, baffled at your countenance and your confounding words. An interesting case?

You shuffled on your feet in a nimble movement and pressed your back against the wall again, leaning onto it. "Don’t forget to show me that room sometime, too."

"And why would I do that?" Sebastian was growing impatient at your behaviour, while some part of him was thrilled at your nonchalance. The more you bantered with him, teasing him like that, the more he felt his stomach flutter. He hated himself for it.

He felt a sudden urge to leave. To run to his Common Room, or back into the Great Hall, where the noise cramming his ears would be enough to shut down each and any possible much-too-loud beat of his heart, as if the mere sound of those tiny pulses would beguile him into wandering proscribed feelings. A deceit of his own body he wasn't willing to face, not even through his love of the forbidden. The hunger and ache had to stay just that: mere curiosity, more about her and her family than you.

But he stayed in the silence of the corridor, with a loud pounding noise in his ears.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #harry potter #sebastian sallow fanfiction #wizarding world #harry potter fandom #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy fic #harry potter legacy #harry potter fanfiction #ron weasley #hermione granger #ginny weasley #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian x reader

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