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warmerthanhotcoco · 8 months

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how dare you? - Draco/Harry

=> A Drarry oneshot inspired by the song "Wicked Game"

=> In which Harry questions why and how he fell in love with a man who just wants him dead... (or so he thinks).

=>Draco's no better.

=> Canon until the Battle of Hogwarts, where Draco makes the RIGHT choice.

Full of angst until, like, the ending scene. Ends with Ginny/Luna's wedding, so if you want a little bit of 'Draco with the Gryffindors' fluff, go ahead! Enjoy reading!

I fell in love with your smile. Once, twice. I never fell for this man behind a Death Eater's mask.

How dare you make me fall for you? How dare you make me dream of you?

How dare you give me hope?

Harry found himself screaming himself and the rest of Grimmauld Place awake yet again with another nightmare.

"Mate, you alright?" Ron sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as he ran his eyes up and down Harry as if checking for blood. "Is it the scar?"

"I..." Harry frowned. No, it wasn't the scar. Unlike everybody assumed, his nightmares weren't always Voldemort; nor were they always losing Sirius and Cedric either.

It was a certain arch-nemesis. Not him dying, but him killing Harry with his own hands, like he claimed he would oh so happily do.

Would he, really? Would Malfoy actually kill him?

... Harry knew the answer. And it hurt.

"Yes. Yes, the bloody scar," Harry lied, wincing. "The pain’s fading, I'll be okay. Go back to sleep."

Several months later, Harry found himself storming into the Breakfast Hall after another nightmare. Last night had been a ruthless mess in his head, one he hadn’t been prepared for.

✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎ (the nightmare)

It had started with the night at the graveyard in fourth year. Except everything went in reverse. Harry was shoved against the Riddle gravestone, Cruciatus curses had flown around the graveyard freely.

“Kill the spare.” Cedric had been thrown aside like he was nothing.

“Good luck,” he had wished Cedric silently. Cedric had nodded back.

Everyone cheered when Harry broke through the surface. He had found himself searching for someone… he had spotted Cedric shooting him a proud grin. And then he had seen Malfoy leaning against a tree, rolling his eyes at the heroism.

“Haha! Having fun, Harry?” Cedric had called out to him mid-waltz, just like he did to the other champions.

And then somewhere to his right, as the couples started flocking the dance floor, he heard the most beautiful laugh.

“Barely started and you’re already tripping! Ow!” Draco Malfoy muffled a shriek as Pansy stepped harder on his foot.

Malfoy was smiling.

He looked around at the others dancing, and for a split second, they held eye contact: the smile on his face flew away like the wind.

And then all at once, Harry found himself back in the lake, but this time he was drowning. Gasping for air, choking on murky water, spluttering, coughing. Ah, there was Malfoy, seated by the water, holding out his hand. The same breathtaking smile on his face.

Harry reached for it with a gasp of relief, gripping it tight — only for Malfoy to push him back underwater.

✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎ (the nightmare ends)

Harry sat beside Hermione, brows furrowed in frustration and pain. Fourth year had been Harry Potter’s gay awakening. It had been a shock when he had realised it was Cedric he liked, not Cho. Not his fault they were always together. But the one crush had led to so many… discoveries. Like on the night of the Yule Ball, when he had fallen for Malfoy’s genuine smile for the first time. He had told himself it was just his recent understanding of his sexuality messing with his head. For Merlin’s sake, had he been flustered when Bill appeared for the Third Task (looking dashing in his wizard’s suit). “Surely it’s just the hormones.”

Harry scoffed.

“What are you up to now?”

Hermione’s annoyed glare was focussed on him with full power. “Erm… Hermione?”

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am, not like I have anything to be mad about now do I!”

“…nope, not at all.”

Hermione punched his shoulder with a book. “Harry! You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?” Harry grinned, his tense shoulders relaxing for a moment. His best friends always made him feel better (even if Ron was being a brat these days). “Come on, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she grumbled aloud, despite her eyes darting towards the diabetic-ally sappy couple seated somewhere down the table. Lavender was too busy feeding Ron his pudding to notice.

“Ah, don’t worry, I hate it too.”

Hermione smirked, satisfied, before going back to her revision notes. “You ought to be studying…”

“Later,” Harry mumbled. His eyes latched onto a bob of sleek blond that had just arrived at the Slytherin table. The instant Malfoy sat down, his gaze drifted away from his ‘friends’ and locked onto Harry’s.

Harry bit back a gulp. Malfoy’s sharp eyes gleamed as bright as the stripes of silver on his tie. How ironic it was that his eyes and Harry’s would make a perfect Slytherin pair.

Harry found himself glaring back, holding his stance against Malfoy’s challenge. But really, he was enjoying it. The silent glare-contest that let him stare at Malfoy’s face for as long as he liked. Let him watch all the little blond strands flutter in the gentle wind that always kept the Hall cool. All the edges of his jawline, the little dark flecks in his silver eyes, the rosy blush on his nose… The faded scars from his ‘Sectumsempra’. Like a worshipper devoted to his idol, he etched all of it into his memory.

It wasn’t until Malfoy’s glare softened did he notice the faint grey lining his eyes. Was he not getting enough sleep? Was he facing some sort of trouble? His cheeks were hollower than before, his neckline sharper. Relative to the ‘rich boy smothered in luxury’ aura he gave off before… all he radiated now was gloom. (And beauty, but gloom.) Harry felt his eyebrow raising in concern, eyes asking a silent question he wouldn’t dare ask aloud. “Are you alright?”

Malfoy looked away.

“Harry? Harry! Cut it out!” Hermione whispered beside him, shaking him back to reality. She shot Malfoy a glare, which he deftly ignored. “What is it now?”

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head, downing a mug of iced water. “It’s nothing. He pisses me off, is all.”

⚡️ -> Shift of POV -> 🐍

Draco didn’t want to look away. Far from it — he longed to be able to wake up to those eyes, fall asleep to those eyes, drowning in their perfect green everyday. His anger dropped when he felt Harry’s gaze searching all over his face. Was he curious? Was he judging how terrible he looked? He couldn’t possibly be ‘checking me out’… Haha, perhaps in my wildest dreams, Draco scoffed internally. Definitely judging.

Potter raised an extremely judgemental eyebrow, his eyes questioning him. Here I was happily staring into his eyes, and there he is mocking me for looking sick. You’re pathetic, Draco, he chided himself and looked away. He’d rather lose the staring contest to bloody Potter than endure the mockery in those beautiful eyes.

It hurt.

Hurt as bad as every nightmare where Harry hit him over and over with Sectumsempra, even an Unforgivable or two.

Draco shook his head and went back to staring at the tattoo edges he could see peeking out of his sleeve. He wasn’t surprised Potter hated him, loathed him, detested his very existence. And maybe so did Draco. Long long ago, back when he was still a petulant child mad at Harry Potter not being his friend. Long before he felt the first pangs of jealousy when Potter brought Patil to the Yule Ball, long before Potter went around snogging a sodding Ravenclaw. Back then, they were equals, absolutely repulsed by each other. But now… it was worse. Draco fell for the Potter that saved a French girl he didn’t even know. Draco fell for the Potter that cried over a Hufflepuff he only befriended that year. Draco fell a third time, for the Potter that stood up to Umbridge.

Draco loved the Potter that hated him.

Can’t blame him, he laughed at himself, covering the Dark Mark and the wounds all over it with a glamour.

“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!”

“Like it hot, scum?”

BOOM! Another bookshelf tumbled as the wood of the racks caught fire. Yellowing pages of old spells and potion recipes were set alight, burning into ashes in an instant under the heat. The Fiendfyre roared, spreading its wings like a dragon, drowning the entire Room in amber, racing forwards, chasing after the intruders.

Draco ran for his life.

He could hear Goyle sprinting too, only a few steps behind. A flame shot out and latched onto Goyle’s pants: the idiot ran past him, screaming.

A bookshelf came crashing down, and they slipped underneath, missing death by a hair’s breadth. Faster, and faster… The fire crept closer and closer, roaring louder and louder…

“DRACO WATCH OUT!”

“Goyle..?” The smoke and the adrenaline were too much: he couldn’t see a thing, let alone the boy supposedly beside him.

Let alone the tall cupboard that was toppling onto his path.

All he could hear were the dozen crashes all around him, and one loud ominous ‘Creeeeeak’ that crept closer and closer—

And a sudden ‘Swish’ — before he could yell, he was plucked off the ground and thrown onto a wooden log… A broom. He was on a broom.

Down on the ground, he could see the cupboard that had fallen being devoured by the flames… He realised just how closely he had escaped it.

“Goyle!” He bent over the broom to grab his Stunned friend. He looked back up.

A dark raven’s nest sat atop a flushed face, his back bent to steer the broom faster out of the Room.

He’d rather I be crushed to death… or burn. The heat must have gotten to his ginormous head, Draco bit back a sigh, tapping the broom with his wand. The dusty old thing shot out of the doors like a lightning bolt. With a wave of Granger’s wand, the doors slammed shut, right in the Fiendfyre’s face.

Gasping for fresher air, the trio sat down against the wall, exhausted. Draco slumped to the ground nearby, after having leaned Goyle against a pillar as well. They watched, horrified, as the beautiful diadem in Harry’s hands broke apart with a scream.

The Dark Lord lost another Horcrux. Draco lost a friend. Draco also now owes Harry sodding Potter his life.

And maybe he didn’t mind that one bit.

“Draco… Come.”

Narcissa Malfoy’s words bounced off of the stone all around the Hogwarts courtyard. Draco curled his fists in tighter, fully aware of the hundreds of hateful eyes, as he stepped out of the crowds and made his way across the courtyard. Voldemort [no, Draco refused to call him the Dark Lord anymore, he was just a bloody maniac] began grinning, big rotten teeth as ugly as the rest of him. Instead of maybe walking into Voldemort’s outstretched arms for a bloody stupid hug, he walked on towards where the old half-giant stood, stood stock-still before the body of the one man he dared love… and fell to his knees.

Time slowed, the one tear trembling on his lashes taking ages to sneak its way down his pale, grimy face. He could hear others behind him scowling, gasping, wondering. He couldn’t care less. A hundred memories flashed through his mind within the few seconds it took for the tear to fall.

✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎ ✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎

“Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy.”

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

“You wait till my father hears about this. This is servant's stuff.”

“If I didn’t know better, Draco, I’d say you were scared.”

Draco scoffed. “Scared, Potter?” He spat the name as if it were a curse. Which it was. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what…?”

“I thought I heard hooves…” Why did Potter’s voice sound so close…? Draco looked down to find he had subtly hidden behind the boy. Throwing himself further away, he shuddered. “N-Never mind, it’s probably nothing.”

Draco felt satisfied to turn the context around this time. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.” The Gryffindor’s eyes glowed with determination and anger. It pissed Draco off, seeing the anger he felt every time he saw Potter, reflected back. Was he mad over what happened with the mudblood?

Tsk. Draco swore to use the worst jinxes he could think of. “SERPENSORTIA!”

A Firebolt crashed into the pit, smashing into smithereens.

“Potter’s broom!” Parkinson smirked.

“Look!” A roar of cries ran across the stands as a limp body came crashing down beside the broom. The Headmaster raised his hand just in time: Harry Potter now lay mid-air, body as limp as a… a corpse.

Draco shook himself, correcting his expression into his most smug smirk yet, wary of his classmates jeering at the unconscious Seeker.

“Potter. Potter! Is it true that you fainted?”

Somebody at his table mimicked a dramatic faint, mocking Potter. The rest of the Slytherins cracked up, sniggering beside him, reminding Draco to stay in character. “I mean…” he scoffed, flashing a scornful grin. “You actually fainted?”

Weasley pulled a face at them, Granger pulled an annoyed Potter away, an arm wrapped tight around his back. Draco frowned.

“Barely started and you’re already tripping! Ow!” Draco muffled a shriek as Pansy stepped harder on his foot. Snarky Parkinson retaliated, making him laugh. Oh how wonderful the night would have been had he kept his eyes away from the centre of the dance floor. For right beside where Diggory was twirling Chang, Potter was watching him: judging, probably. In a way, it could have been satisfying: the Gryffindor Patil girl was all over him, but his eyes were on Draco.

Except they were scrunched up in hurt.

Almost like… Almost like Potter was hurt to see Draco dancing with somebody else…

It confused Draco. And Draco hated being confused.

“Father will kill you, Father will kill you,” Draco chanted inwardly — begging himself to not punch Umbridge in the ear. Sure, she was sodding torturing Potter. But his father really would kill him if he went against the Ministry…

Draco, for the first time in his life, regretted ever being born a Malfoy.

“No,” Draco denied recognising the captive. He wasn’t lying. The Potter he knew was breathtaking in his own Potter-y way, not blown up and blue like this wretch crouching before him. But he’d know those pretty eyes anywhere — but neither did his prick of a father (whom he now officially loathed), nor his unhinged aunt deserve to know that.

Besides, the trouble was worth it when Potter gazed back at him with nothing but pure gratitude.

Draco sat against the wall, watching the Horcrux break apart. The diadem was beautiful. It wasn’t worth Crabbe’s life, though. Voldemort was a sick scoundrel, just like his father.

Potter and Malfoy clashed eyes for a bare minute.

I save you, you saved me. Guess we’re even now. Nothing more between us.

Something snapped inside him. He had hoped the life debt would have dragged on a bit longer.

Draco nodded silently, pulled Goyle up, and stumbled away, sulking.

✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎ ✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎

Draco shook his blond head, refusing to cry. Potter — no, Harry — had once looked so innocent and charming and bright. The day he had first seen the frizzy-haired boy, Harry had been full of toothy smiles and sparkling green eyes.

“Draco~” Bellatrix’s voice twisted his nerves.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Voldemort hissed. “The boy’s dead!”

No. He refused to believe the light was gone.

Without a second’s hesitation, his wand shot out a brilliant blue hex towards the wraith.

A round of gasps. A very satisfactory “Ha!” from the only Weasley twin left.

“That’s right. Harry’s not dead, not to us.” Longbottom? The sound of a sword being pulled out.

And with a loud ‘Thud!’ the body in Hagrid’s arms rolled over. Draco’s arms shot out simply on instinct, catching the body just in time.

Green eyes stared up at his, wide in shock and glistening in… relief. Quiet joy. A very silent ‘Oh, there you are.’

Draco scoffed in response. As if I’m the one who returned from death. “Get up!” He shouted, pulling them both to their feet as Longbottom, Granger and the Weasleys led the Light Army into attack, while cheering for the Boy Who Did Indeed Live.

Lucius Malfoy was fuming. Oh, the glee in Draco’s heart.

He’d have to fight now, try and sneak his mother away too. He’ll find his way back to Harry later. Just like he always did.

“You know,” Parvati Patil stretched her arm (which was covered in shiny bangles up to her elbow). “I really did think Ron would be the first to marry from our lot. Who’d have thought his little sister would beat him to it?”

Draco Malfoy scoffed, taking another sip from his white wine. It was a wonder a Weasley wedding even HAD the muggle drink — just as much of a wonder it was for anybody else to see a Malfoy enjoying it. “He’s a bloody idiot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t even asked Granger yet.”

“Right?!” Parvati burst into laughter. “So dense, honestly! Oh, but I’m so happy for the girls! Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, there she comes! Hello, pretty bride!”

Luna Lovegood waved, giggling, her blond locks flying in the summer breeze. “Hi! You know, I had somebody ask me if the gentleman over there was my brother.” She chuckled, patting Draco’s head for no reason.

“I wouldn’t mind being a Lovegood,” he swirled his glass.

“Join the family?” Luna grinned.

“Too late,” he held up his left hand, flaunting the sparkling silver ring.

“Put it down, put it down! The aura of richness is blinding me,” Ginny Weasley cried, linking arms with her new wife, pulling a face at Draco. “Hey, Parvati, come dance with us!”

“I will, in a bit.”

“Malfoy, find your drunk fiancé and come dance, yeah?” She asked, already dragging Luna away to join the others.

Draco watched them leave in silence before downing the rest of his glass. “So.”

“So?”

“Have you found your… person?” He felt awkward asking after Lavender Brown, given it was Greyback, one of his father’s old lackeys, that bit her.

“Lav? No. I think I’m close, though. Maybe I’ll find her soon, and bring her to your wedding this winter,” she sighed with a distant gaze.

“Maybe.”

“Have you found yours?” She smiled knowingly. Draco falling to his knees over Harry’s corpse had indeed been quite the dramatic memory for everybody present.

Draco smiled back (he had learnt it felt oddly good to do that), eyes drifting over to spot Harry laughing his heart out with Neville Longbottom. “I have.” He placed his glass on a floating table nearby and rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he bowed to the lady before strutting across the tent to find his partner. “Ahem.”

“Oh!” Harry jumped. “Hello, Dray~”

“You’re drunk as hell.”

“Wasn’t me! I tried to stop him,” Neville held up his hands in surrender, slinking away to escape.

Draco sighed. “I was about to ask you to a dance but… You’re a mess.”

“Am not! I can dance!”

“Yeah? And if you fall?”

“You can catch me!”

Draco chuckled. Harry seemed to like being caught by him, ever since the day of the Battle. “Fine. Let’s go, your ex is waiting.”

“Hey, we both have our own beautiful blondie partners now,” Harry laughed.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Draco gripped his hand as Harry dragged him off to the dance floor, his heart soaring with joy, feeling himself falling for him all over again.

He had once been mad at the universe for this. For making him fall in love with Harry James Potter: so despicably, idiotically, and wholly in love.

Now, he could only be grateful for the ring he now wore, the hand he now held… the heart he now owned.

Somewhere in the back of the tent, sat a lonely Weasley twin. Chink! A coin rolled along the floor to rest at the Weasley’s feet.

George sucked in a gasp, picking it up. “Five galleons,” he muttered to himself. He looked up just in time to see Harry dragging Malfoy to the dance floor, joining Ginny and Luna, and Ron and Hermione. He chuckled, a tear slithering down. “Told you I’d win, Fred,” he patted the empty seat next to him. “Bet closed.”

#drarry #draco x harry #lots of pining #just a little angst #(a lot of angst)#the boy who lived #the boy who had no choice #but draco makes the right choice in the end #gryffindor wedding fluff #except with luna and draco #luna is one of the brides #draco is the other bride's ex's fiancé #harry potter fic

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warmerthanhotcoco · 11 months

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Hi! New follower here, just curious if it’s your post settings or a tumblr issue but the like AND reblog buttons are greyed out and I cannot do anything as far as interacting with posts :((((

Hi there! Thanks for saying this, really, you're an angel! Lemme go check-

Oh, so I checked and it's alright? Works as normal, hm... oh, yeah, happens though, you shouldn't worry, love. Tumblr loves completely malfunctioning whenever the slightest network issue happens eheh 🙃 Thanks for pointing it out though! xx

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warmerthanhotcoco · 11 months

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Part 2: The Badger Boyfriend

Summary: You are being hunted by the worst of the Hogwarts bullies. Rosier and Bullstrode are tired of having to put up with you being a Slytherin. Peverell and his Quidditch team are sick of your very existence.

Who better to save the day and comfort you than your amazing Spider-web Weaver boyfriend?

A/N: I use "their" pronouns here when required. Y/N could be considered gender-neutral for both chapters, coz who says a guy or non-binary can't wear a pretty lace gown? 💚

Part 2/2 to "I can protect you now"

“Rosier, Bullstrode, ‘evening!” The Slytherins greeted.

Rosier and Bullstrode waved back to them as they dragged you down the stairs toward the Slytherin dungeons. You had just reached the bottom of the stairs when a head popped around the wall by the top of the staircase and shouted “Hey, y/l/n! Professor Dumbledore sent for you!”

You pushed your feet against the stone floor, forcing both yourself and the two bullies humiliating you to a stop. You waited patiently to see what the seventh-years would do: they spun around to face the Hufflepuff Head Boy, dragging you around with them.

“Say what now?” Rosier rose an eyebrow suspiciously. “Dumbledore sent for the git?”

“Haha, detention?” Bullstrode smirked. “Or has little y/n finally managed to fail Defence class?”

The Head Prefect visibly grit his teeth. “No, I doubt y/l/n’s capable of failing any class, she happens to have brains, something some people don’t.” Whoever said Hufflepuffs were known for their patience had a wild imagination, really. “Y/l/n, come on upstairs, Professor’s waiting.” With that, the Head Boy scampered out of sight.

The pair of Slytherin bullies grumbled under their breaths, shoving you away from them before stomping into the common room. With a huge sigh of relief you sprinted up the stairs, vowing to send the young DADA professor loads of Chocolate Frogs for Christmas. What could he want to see you for, though? Had you done the assignment wrong? There was absolutely no way—

“Hey.”

You jumped out of your reverie, a happy smile blooming across your face at the sight of the familiar mop of red-brown hair. “Well hello there, Newt. What are you doing here so close to Slytherin Tower?” By now you had climbed up the stairs and reached the main hallway. It was still unlike him to want to get this close to anywhere near Slytherin Tower…

“Oh- erm- I w-wanted to see you.”

You blinked. It took a few seconds for the information to process. “So Dumbledore didn’t send for me, huh? It was just the amazingly kind Head Boy helping my boyfriend."

“A-And helping you get away from… them,” he pointed out.

“Right. Bless him for that. What do you suggest I get him as a gift for Christmas as a ‘thank you’?”

Newt seriously pondered the question for a moment, while taking your hand in his and guiding you up the hallways. “He likes muggle clothes. Finds them interesting.” He answered smoothly: Newt spoke best when not self-conscious. “Likes the blue and brown suits I have.”

“Which you always look dashing in,” you complimented, pecking his cheek. You chuckled at the way he crimsoned. “Hm, I’ll get him a dark blue blazer then.”

Newt nodded his approval, subtly pulling you closer when a few meaner Gryffindors walked by.

“Newt, can I ask something?”

“Anything.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“…Forest?”

“Mhm, and why?”

“To show you. I p-practised.” He wiggled his fingers as a silent reminder of what he was talking about. You bobbed your head in response, smiling when you remembered your boyfriend was no longer a regular human wizard now.

He never was from the start. He had always been special, in the best way.

“And I’m proud of you for that, love. Can’t wait to watch you play the otherworldly hero! Wizard criminals beware: powerful, mysterious, masked hero on the loose! He kills with his bare hands, trapping villains in cobwebs with his mighty skill! He—“

“OI! Y/N! STOP RIGHT THERE!”

“Well well, if it isn’t Newt sodding Scamander.”

Bullstrode? Rosier? AGAIN? What now— Oh, they probably found out the Head Boy’s hoax.

Newt grabbed your hand and sprinted down the corridor, up a few of the moving stairs. The staircases shifted just in time, separating the two bullies from you two. They were seconds away from catching up: you ran faster and faster, pulling Newt along until you reached the one corridor that had the perfect unseen alcove.

Clearly Newt remembered it too.

He picked up pace, pulling you closer and sprinting faster. He raised his wand and pointed it to the ground, shouting out a confusion charm. A speck of gold exploded into a cloud of sparkling yellow dust, quickly growing into a wide barrier.

In less than three seconds your back was flat against the cold stone wall. Newt was squished tight against your chest: the alcove was very small. Not that you minded of course… what more could you ask for?

You ducked your head, turning away from Newt’s panting face to face the exit. You watched, silently chortling, as the older Slytherins stumbled through the yellow smoke, walked out of it spluttering and coughing, and ran straight ahead, dark wands aimlessly tossing spells back and forth.

You didn’t dare utter a word until you were certain they had disappeared around the corner. “Phew. That was close,” you whispered.

You didn’t know why you were whispering: it felt odd to speak out loud in such a calm and secretive place. Besides, the atmosphere felt… tense as it was.

You turned your head back to face your boyfriend, wondering why he was silent. “Newt?”

Newt stood there, pressing his back against the opposite wall to create as much space as possible. His face was scarlet, the blood rushing to his cheeks plenty obvious. His hands were glued to the wall on either side of your head. His usually tender eyes were on fire.

Newton Scamander wasn’t the type to pin his lover to a wall regularly, if at all. But right at this moment, it was clear he wouldn’t mind doing this more often after all.

“N… Newt?”

“Hm? Oh, s-sorry,” he smiled, lowering his head, tearing his burning gaze away from yours to check the surroundings.

“They’re gone.”

“But there’s more.”

“Huh?” You tried to duck under his arms to peek outside, but he pulled you back into the darkness. “What is it?”

“Don’t. They’re coming.”

As if on cue, footsteps began thundering across the floors of the school. Solid and heavy, rushed like they were busy people. Just a little light-footed. These were definitely not Rosier and Bullstrode.

The Gryffindor Quidditch Team. It was easy for you to recognise them just from their light-hearted, hurried footsteps.

Oh for Merlin’s sake, what are they doing here?!

“Where did Rosier say the brat went again?”

“Somewhere down this hallway. With the pathetic badger boyfriend.”

“Ah, traces of hexes. They’ve fought.”

“I sense a Confundus Charm lingering, Peverell. We should hurry and get out of here.”

“Scared of a little snake and their stuttering ba-ba-ba-badger, mate?” the Gryffindor Captain mocked.

You felt your hand on Newt’s shirt curling into a fist, longing to shoot a beautiful little hex at Peverell. Making fun of you was one thing… insulting your boy was another.

A warm hand slipped off the wall to your right, and gently patted your fist. A signal. You looked up to find him smiling back: his eyes gleamed with mischief.

Ah, yes, the side of Newt nobody else got to see. The ridiculously cheeky prick in him.

You grinned back and nodded once, cheering him on. That was all he needed. He pushed himself off the wall and shuffled closer to the doorway. Careful not to get caught, he let out his little Bowtruckle to crawl along the wall outside. After a minute and a half, the little friend returned to his open palm and pointed the exact direction the group of Gryffindors had stopped to inspect some spell-traces. “Thank you,” he mouthed, before raising his right hand. He flexed the joints, tested his wrist, aimed… and shot.

You hardly saw the string of silver that darted from beneath his sleeve, shooting towards the group like an arrow. The string of web touched the first muscular back and popped open like an umbrella, spreading its wings, wrapping all four Gryffindors present in a beautiful white cocoon. Right when the screams started mid-wrapping, you swung your wand at each of them from behind Newt’s protective frame, silencing every last one. The web then proceeded to happily wrap around their mouths as well, sealing them shut.

Perfect. “Mission accomplished.”

“Good job,” Newt complimented with a gentle, proud smile.

“You too, O Wonderful Spider-web Weaver,” you smiled back. You pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and back firmly. What passed today may seem like one of many minor incidents but to you, it meant the world. “You helped save me from another day of wishing they would end me already,” you thought to yourself, burying your face in his warmth. “Thank you,” you whispered out loud.

He humbly nodded, squeezing you back.

“Happy you can protect me now?” You chuckled, quoting him from a few weeks ago.

“Mhm.” His chest heaved, a silent sigh puffing out of his lips.

“Guess we don’t need to go to the Forest to see your training now…”

“…Mhm.”

“Hey Newt?”

“Hm?”

“Could we, maybe, stay in here a bit longer?”

He buried his toothy grin in your messy hair. “Mhm.”

This marks the end of this short Spidey-Newt fic! Thank you for reading, pretties <3

#newt scamander x you #newt scamander fluff #newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #fantastic beasts #hogwarts fluff #newt scamander x slytherin reader #hufflepuff x slytherin #slytherin reader #acromantula bite #spiderman newt au #bullying comfort

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warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Text

sweet as candy

Tags: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Remus Lupin & You, Lily Evans Potter & You, Remus Lupin & Marlene McKinnon, Gryffindor Reader, detention dates, because Remus Lupin is in detention, First Kiss, confessions (?), '70s Music, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)

Summary: Remus Lupin is sent into detention with Filch for pranking the Slytherins. Except Filch is never really there himself at detention so you slip into the trophy room to lend a hand to a friend. What if said friend becomes something more by the end of the night?

A/N: Had a Remus Lupin-obsession and a "Hooked on a Feeling"-addiction for a while now, damn it feels good to let it all out haha~ Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading xx

The Hall was chaos tonight. So much so it almost sounded less like dinner and more like a bazaar. Young and intelligent Remus Lupin was known across Hogwarts for both his erudition and pretty face. Though he was only one of the many heartthrobs Gryffindor House boasted of, he was famously “the only innocent one from Potter’s lot”. The other fourth years had already agreed among themselves that Lupin will definitely be made Prefect next year.

Naturally, when people found out how McGonagall had dished out detention on the Golden Boy, the rumour mill of Hogwarts ran wild. Even the teachers (rather, especially the teachers) were shell-shocked. How and why Lupin was caught jinxing the Bludger right on the Slytherin’s practice day, they couldn’t fathom.

But you could.

“Honestly, Remus, you’d have saved your neck if you simply told the truth!” Marlene McKinnon shook her mane. “To hell with nobility!”

“The bloody snakes deserved it,” Sirius Black agreed. “You don’t have to be scrubbing bronze with Filch ‘cause of it!”

Remus simply shook his head in response, barely looking up from the book he had his nose buried in. “It’s already over with, Pads. I don’t mind it, really.”

“But this time it’s just you!” Potter whined. “If you’d just let me admit to McGonagall that you did it for a prank of mine, then at least we can both serve detention.”

“Honestly, Jamie. I can handle it alone very well, relax.” He held out his hand across the table to where you sat. You dropped a tart onto his scarred palm. “Thanks. No more arguments on this, guys, I’ll be fine.”

James Potter sniffed, picking at his food. It was true, Remus had been jinxing the Slytherin brooms and the Bludgers to help with a prank James had planned on the wretched rascals of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He had not counted on McGonagall walking past the Quidditch Supply Room on her way to the grounds… finding the door open… and then catching his friend mid-crime. This was not the first time Remus would be serving detention, thanks to his reckless friends. But this would be the first time he served alone.

In short, James was torn. Though really, you couldn’t comprehend what his problem was. The trophy room was always unlocked thanks to Peeves, it wasn’t too hard to slip inside to accompany a lonely friend.

Because that was exactly what you did.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh. Just… going for a walk?” You grinned anxiously.

Lily Evans chuckled. “A walk to the trophy room?” She waved a hand to shut your stutters. “Oh come on, y/l/n, I’m not daft. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“…Oh.”

She stifled a laugh at your surprised expression. “Well run along, Longbottom’s on Prefect patrol today.”

Every Gryffindor knew Frank was the sweetest friend to all: he almost never told on a housemate. Perfect. You waved good night to Lily before dashing out the dorms, tiptoeing out of the common room and striding down the hallways to Filch’s trophy room. You didn’t bother knocking, slowly slipping the door open. Remus was there on the far end of the room, humming to himself as he rubbed a cloth on an ancient cup.

It wasn’t until the door creaked shut that he looked up. “Oh. Y/l/n? I didn’t know you were in detention too?”

“I’m not as stupid as you, Lupin,” you chuckled. “I just… dropped by to check on you.”

“… It’s past curfew.”

“I am aware,” you slid your fingers along a line of medals on the wall. “What’s that song you were singing?”

“Humming,” he corrected with a smile. “Born To Be Wild.”

“Steppenwolf?” You cocked an eyebrow in amusement, Accio-ing over a cloth to start scrubbing the dusty medals. “Didn’t think that would be your taste.”

“It’s less taste and more… meaning,” Lupin shrugged with a mysterious glint in his eyes. “You don’t have to—“

“I just want to help you,” you tossed another cloth at his face to shut him up. He let out a bubbly laugh and caught it before going back to his own work. “Meaning huh… Meh, I still prefer something more dance-able.”

“Dance-able?” Lupin chuckled. “Is that a word?”

“It ought to be so I shall make it one,” you grinned nonchalantly.

“Name a dance-able song that fits Your Excellency’s tastes.”

“Hm... Hooked on a Feeling?”

Lupin turned to you with raised eyebrows, fingers slowly rubbing along the rim of a cup. “Just because it is dance-able? Or…”

“It has meaning to it, I suppose. I’m…”

“Hooked on a feeling,” Lupin bobbed his head to the beat you hummed.

“I’m high on believing…”

“That you’re in love with me.”

“Who knew Pretty Prefect Lupin was a singer,” you smirked. Hearing no laugh in response, you looked up from the cabinet of medals to find the boy silently staring at you. His head was tilted by an inch, like a pondering puppy. His eyes twinkled like he had just discovered something truly interesting and amusing. And he was smiling: that tiny tip of his lips that often signalled he was really liking said discovery. It sent a shiver down your spine, but also pleasantly churned your stomach. This is it, you told yourself. Time you pulled the line Dorcas had been nagging you to use at some point in life. “Like what you see?”

“I very much do.” The smile grew a millimetre wider. Goodness the room was bloody hot—

Click. Creeeeeeak… Snap. The door opening and closing on its own made you jump out of your trance and shoot a hex at whatever terrifying spirit was— “Oh. Potter. Have you not heard of bloody knocking?”

James pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, tucking it away and muttering the counter-hex on the attacked Sirius. “Have you not heard of patience?”

“I’m the best at Defence for a reason,” you stuck out your tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“I do believe that is for us to ask,” Black raised an eyebrow.

“I...” You averted your eyes back to the medals, shutting the cabinet and moving onto the shelf of glass prizes. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here under detention too.”

From the corner of your eyes you could see Lupin paused in his attempt at reaching a high shelf, before casually proceeding. Phew.

“Oooh interesting,” Potter skipped over to you. “What did you do?”

“Encouraging Peeves to hit patrol Prefects with muffins.” That wasn’t a lie: you had done that, just that Prefect Lupin was the one who caught you so you never really got detention. “I suppose you two are here for moral support? Where’s the mouse?”

“Funny you should call him that,” Potter grinned subtly. “Pete fell asleep early.” His voice trailed off when Black tugged on his sleeve. James looked around to meet Remus’s eyes: the Prefect was signalling something to him. Something you didn’t quite understand but… you could surmise well. “Oh, right! The homework, yes, yes, Merlin, I forgot. Do we have to submit it tomorrow, Pads?”

“Yep.”

“We really should go finish it then…”

“I’ll write yours for you, Remy, you wrap this up quick and come get some sleep.” Sirius shot him a wink, mouthing ‘Have fun’ before dragging James outside and shutting the door.

Your eyebrows had reached your hairline by now. “… What on Earth was that about?”

Lupin shrugged, a half-smile on his face. “The not-so-true answer? I reminded them of homework.”

“One that doesn’t exist. In case you forgot, we share the same classes.”

He only grinned wider. “The honest answer? I chased them out.”

“Why?”

Both your dust-lined shelf and his greasy cupboard had long since been abandoned.

“Because it isn’t often that I catch a moment longer than five seconds with you, without half a House or my dear friends to butt in. Even rarer than catching you lying so smoothly.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “If I'd told them I was here to accompany you, they’d announce a wedding by morning.”

“And maybe I wouldn’t mind that.”

Good Godric did you want to wipe that self-satisfied, all-knowing grin off his face. Which you did. Gryffindors weren’t known for avoiding their impulses after all.

The grimy cloth lay on the shelf. There wasn’t much distance to close so it was only a matter of seconds you saw the pleasant surprise blossoming on his face before your lips met his. You waited for a response, which came fast: Remus cupped your face, returning the kiss all earnest and happy. His hair felt soft on your fingers. One hand raked through the golden strands while the other traced the scars across his face — all those jagged lines that only served to make him all the more handsome. He was soft and delicate, a thumb stroking your cheek, kissing so slowly and tenderly that you felt your brain and knees melting. It was nothing passionate, nothing even close to the X-rated literature Dorcas read: it was laced with all the chocolate he ate, and as gentle as the boy himself, as light and soothing as his hold on you. Merlin, he was so sweet.

It took a while for him to pull back, still not letting go of your face. “‘Lips as sweet as candy’ indeed,” he was grinning oh so merrily. “Your stash of Honeydukes jars is paying off.”

“Says the one who literally tastes of chocolate,” you quipped before gulping at how… odd that sounded.

He laughed at the fierce blush that painted your ears. “You spend too much with Dorcas, love. A— I meant— …Sorry.”

Oh, the delightful squirm in your tummy. “No, I like the sound of that.”

“Oh do you now?” He snickered, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. Though we really should wrap this up, love.”

His grin was contagious. “Well… you’re the one in detention, forced to clean by hand,” you said, pulling out your wand. “I’m not.” With that, you pushed away from him, going about the room waving your wand at the different shelves and cabinets, cups and medals, trophies and awards, Scourgify-ing some and using polishing charms on others. Over ten minutes later, you wiped your brow and turned around, blushing at the way Remus was watching like you had hung the moon. “What?”

“Surely I get to stare as much as I want now,” he walked over.

“I suppose so…”

He placed a chaste peck on your lips and held out his arm. “Come on, before Sirius comes looking for us and Lily has to save us all from McGonagall.”

You laughed and walked out the door, hugging his arm closer when a Prefect passed by. Privilege number one of being a Prefect’s partner: you get to walk around wherever, whenever, as long as it’s with them. You bit your lip, realising you had just called yourself Remus’s partner. Oh well, nothing wrong about it… “Remus.”

The boy’s footsteps stuttered for a bit at the first name. He turned to you, beaming wide. “Yes, love?”

God this was wonderful. “Why do I have a bad feeling Dorcas and James will be exchanging galleons with Sirius next morning?”

“…They definitely betted on this.” And Sirius definitely betted against it being the clingy prick he was, but neither of you needed to say it aloud. Instead, Remus held your arm closer, warily grousing, “Breakfast will be fun.”

#remus lupin #marauders era #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #detention with filch #wingmen marauders #hogwarts fluff #first kiss #love confessions #remus has a beautiful smile #he's a wizard but he bewitches #gryffindor reader #gender-neutral reader #harry potter universe

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warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Note

Hi if ur able to, can you PLEASE PLEASE do an Imagine or headcannon of if Newt Scamander suddenly got powers like Spider-Man? From an accident with an acromantula that he was dealing with or something lol! I’ve had this idea forever but don’t have enough creativity <3

I can protect you now

Tags: Newt Scamander/You, Fluff, Spiderman AU, Outdoor-café dates, Astronomy Tower dates, Slytherin reader, Established Relationship, Boyfriend material-Newt Scamander

Summary: Newt, your adorable animal-obsessed Hufflepuff boyfriend, faced a mishap with a young acromantula in the Forbidden Forest. For some godforsaken reason all he got instead of venom... were the magical spider's abilities. Thank Merlin you're around to help him through it all.

A/N: Ron Weasley's nightmare. ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH- This is perhaps the craziest, coolest idea and I'm all here for it! Sorry it took bloody long (writing block hits hard in college)! I was in dire need of Newt fluff and one daydream later your Ask blossomed in my Notepad.

You asked for an imagine/headcanon but hey- I'm famous IRL for turning a tiny idea into a frigging novel so haha, hope ya like it, here we go! This will have two parts, the first one here being more fluff, and the second tomorrow being more action laced with fluff. Can't write Spidey-Newt without a single decent fight! See ya 'morrow xx

Part 1/2

The moon was partly hidden by the clouds, its silver light hazy, trickling along the marble floor of the Astronomy Tower. The stars weren't around today: it had been a very boring day, and was now a very boring night. The perfect night to invite your boyfriend for a midnight chat over Firewhiskey and Chocolate Frogs: he always rambled about his favourite creatures for hours on end.

Boredom was Newt Scamander's sole enemy.

The little wooden door to the Tower opened and shut with a creak.

"What took you so long?" you held out a Chocolate Frog. "It's almost 1 in the morning, love."

"I was... working." He evaded your gaze as he settled on the floor beside you, snuggling close for warmth.

"You did mention homework but your hair is as messy as your shirt and is that dirt on your trous— Goodness you're cold!"

"A-Am I?"

"...Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. I know that face. What did you do? Which animal did you kidnap to help heal it this time?"

"I-" he blinked in surprise before bursting into a string of soft chuckles. "I didn't kidnap anyone! It was more him kidnapping me this time..."

"Oh for Salazar's sake, what happened?" You gripped and shook him by the arm. He looked down at the spot where your legs were tangled together, anxiously biting the inside of his cheek. "Please talk to me," you pleaded, gentler.

Silently, he slid his hand up to his neck and tapped his nape. You frowned, leaning over his shoulder to check.

There were two round red marks on his skin, at least a millimetre deep. The skin around the wound was a brilliant sore pink.

You smacked his head with a hiss. "You dunce! I've been warning you for years against chatting up wild animals. You kept asking why, huh? This is why!" You raked your fingers through his hair, rubbing the spot you hit: not that you regretted but maybe it hurt a little bit. He subtly leant into the touch. “Get up, now."

"Why?"

"To take you to the matron. You’re lucky that’s my aunt.”

"I really don't think that's necessary..."

"But I do, so get up. Exactly what bit you?"

"..."

"Newt..."

"Acromantula."

"...A what?!"

"It was only a young one..."

"You could have been killed!"

"He was wounded..."

“Or eaten alive!" Your hand covered his neck protectively. "What were you thinking?"

"They usually don't attack me when I help..."

"It's a bloody acromantula, Newt— Tsk, forget it." You didn't want to make him feel worse, so you pulled him to his feet, pecked his cheek with a whisper of "Sorry I yelled" and dragged him down the stairs to the hospital wing.

It had been three weeks since, and the summer holidays had begun. Newt was growing unusually quieter in his letters, and had skipped a coffee date last week. You were wondering what he was up to now, when an owl pecked angrily at the window. "Oh, so sorry, love," you opened the glass to let her in. "Did he reply?"

The barn owl opened her beak and dropped the tiniest box onto your palms. You tossed her a treat and picked up the box. Realising it was indeed heavy for something so small, you swished your wand at the box to enlarge it.

No wonder your owl looked so pissed: the box was huge and Newt had probably only managed one lightening charm.

You blinked at the glittery green wrapping. The little scroll at the top held only two sentences within.

I'm afraid I can't explain everything on paper. Tomorrow, 5, same place?

So he did like it after all, you smirked, recalling your date the last holiday. With a flick of your wand, the gift-wrap (he sure knew how to make a Slytherin happy) came undone and the box popped open.

Just a small apology. The words on the paper in the box had been cut through multiple times: attempted and re-written a dozen times.

But the gift was no small deal. Inside the box was... the prettiest autumn dress. All apple green chiffon, with cotton lace that boasted the finest little floral designs. No matter what anybody said, Newt Scamander was a man of taste.

You were early.

Okay, let’s be honest, you were at the café almost an hour early. Not your fault you were worried sick over your suspiciously secretive dearest.

About twenty minutes to three, the chair before you tumbled backwards. “Well hello.”

“You’re early.”

“So are you,” you smirked at the extremely clumsy but elegant Hufflepuff towering over you at the table. He may not be on the team but he was taller and (despite trying to hide it with a dozen layers of clothing) fitter than you — and you were a Slytherin Chaser. Newt was dressed in a dark teal shirt and khaki slacks: perfectly complementing your gown and reflecting his hair and ocean eyes. “You know, what you lack in asking-out skills, you make up for in your style,” you grinned. “Sit down already.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, making himself comfortable. “I asked for two Butterbeers and cakes for now, is that…” he asked slowly, pausing between words.

He was controlling his stutter. But his stutter hadn’t appeared for months now, with your help… Something was definitely wrong.

“Yep, perfect for now,” you looked around the outdoor-café. It was an inn full of open space: like if the Leaky Cauldron was in Lancashire and had a Hogwarts grounds-sized garden. The grass was fresh enough for Newt’s little friend to walk around in, and the Hippogriff and Thunderbird statues around the fountain were fine granite. It was no wonder it had grown into your date venue and study spot. “Less crowded today.”

Newt nodded, clearly relieved about it. Only after the order arrived did he speak. “Y/n… S-Sorry.”

“Newt, I told you over a dozen letters, it’s alright. Now that I know you’re healthy and well, it really is alright.”

He nodded, grateful.

“But an apology won’t save you from explanations.”

He swallowed hard, fingers drawing distracted patterns on the table. “I…”

“One sip and a deep breath, love,” you slid your hand close to his, fingers intertwining.

He obeyed immediately, eyes still avoiding yours. “Prom… Promise you won’t be mad.”

“I’ll try,” you sighed.

Finally he met your gaze: his bright blue eyes were pleading. “Promise.”

“Alright, fine, IswearonyourBowtruckleIshallnotbemad, now spill!”

“Do you… remember the acromantula?” You nodded impatiently. “Well.” He turned away from the table and fixed his eyes on one of the table legs. He raised his right hand and flicked his fingers at the table — Zap! A bright cobweb wrapped around the leg so fast you nearly missed the string that shot out of his wrist. Newt cleared his throat to break the silence that ensued. “I… still don’t know how to undo it. Too sticky.”

You forced your open jaw shut and frowned, perplexed. “Newt, what in Merlin’s name was that?”

“Acromantulas have two prominent defence skills. Venom. And they can trap victims in a cobweb at lightning speed. The web wraps around the target… it’s sticky, lasts long enough for the acromantula to consume its prey.” Not once did he stutter: he was doing what he loved and was best at. “At least I don’t have the venom.”

“So you’re a human spider now.” You gulped down Butterbeer to ease your blood pressure.

“…S-Something like that.”

“Hey,” you took both hands, thumbs rubbing his wrists. “Relax. I’m not mad, nor disgusted. Just a little… confused. This isn’t supposed to be possible.” You shook your head, lifting one hand to kiss the knuckles. “But we’ll figure it out, hm? Hogwarts Library, bribing the CoMC professor, breaking into the Ministry's records…" His eyes grew wider and wider at every suggestion. "We’ll figure it out. And for now, we could take a trip to my aunt’s place.” He gripped your hand, alarmed. “Not to tell her everything but to have you checked for poison. This looks fun but I need to know you’re safe.”

A small half-smile played at his lips, a soft sigh washing over your face as he leant forth to kiss your forehead. “I am safe. I was… scared. Thank you,” he whispered.

“If you thought you’d get rid of me just from this, keep dreaming, spider-boy,” you laughed.

He grinned, leaning back into his seat and diving into the cake.

“Aren’t acromantulas also known for their intelligence?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s hope your Potions grades go up then.”

He burst into laughter, grabbing the serviette to wipe the icing all over his mouth. “Perhaps.” As the laughter faded, he stared at you, eyes soft and crinkled at the tips. “The part that I-I like the most about this is…”

“Hmm?”

“…I can protect you now.”

You sucked in a gasp, images of the group of Gryffindor bullies flashing through your mind. All the times Newt had caught you running late to dates with a black eye… “I guess so.” You wordlessly thanked him with a chaste kiss.

He tasted of vanilla frosting.

#fantastic beasts #harry potter fluff #hogwarts fluff #newt scamander fluff #newt scamander x you #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x slytherin reader #hufflepuff x slytherin #acromantula #spiderman au #newt scamander is a man of taste #he stutters but it's cute #he's an idiot but he's beautiful #harry potter x you #fantastic beasts x reader

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warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Text

hold me

You are Draco’s Potions partner. And Charms partner. Blaise has been your friend since first year at Diagon Alley, and you’d swapped your seats with his so he could flirt with that cute Ravenclaw. And as unlikely as it appeared to the others, you and Draco grew to be as close as Dean and Seamus were. If that wasn’t ‘friends’, what was?

Until Harry hits Draco with Snape's curse and you find yourself in tormenting pain, chest ablaze... and when Harry's back in the common room and Snape has dealt with Draco's bleeding, your pain fades.

One word stuck in your head. "Soulmates."

Tags: Draco Malfoy/Reader, Blaise Zabini as a bestie, Gryffindor Reader, Gryffindor/Slytherin, BAMF Reader, BAMF Blaise Zabini, Angst and comfort fluff, Soulmate emotion-sharing, Confessions (?), First Kiss, Injured Draco Malfoy is a Sweetheart, Hogwarts Hospital Wing dates, because Blaise Zabini is Wingman™️

Your chest ached. Burnt. The pain was a fire, spreading fast, consuming your breath. You gasped for air, slamming the book shut and looking around at the common room. The rest of the Gryffindors were simply chilling around, all fun and laughter, some — like Hermione seated beside you — seriously studying. You dropped your quill. There was no way you could do homework when you were running out of air—

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Dean called from across the carpet where your books and notes were strewn. Your arm knocked over an ink bottle as you scrambled to the nearest window, shoving it open and sticking half your body out, wheezing, gasping.

“Y/n! What is it?” Hermione jumped to her feet, a steady hand stroking your back.

“Oi, you good? Is the fire too much?” Seamus, seated cross-legged near the fireplace, asked, already picking up her wand.

You flailed your hands, waving the question off. “No, not that.” You knew that much. This wasn’t… just an asthma attack or whatever your muggle mother called it. Seriously, it couldn’t be a heart attack? What the hell was going on?

SLAM!

“Merlin’s beard, Harry!”

“That’s a door you nincompoop, not a Slytherin tie,” one of the older Gryffindors scoffed at Harry Potter as he stomped into the common room. Hair disheveled, eyes wild with panic, clothes crumpled but there was nothing new in that… blood splattered here and there…

“Harry?” Hermione called, hand still stroking your back. “What on earth?”

“You look like you got back from a murder, mate,” Ron Weasley laughed nervously. “…Did you?”

“Almost,” Harry mumbled, flopping down on the carpet and snatching Ron’s chocolate frog.

“Hey!”

“Water.”

Parvati passed a bottle.

“Thanks. What’s up with y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head.

“… You gonna tell us or are we gonna have to hear from the papers?”

“I don’t know.” Was all he said before rushing away from the whispers and the eyes, into his dorm. Something about the fear in his eyes made you realise… The bastard did something. Again.

You wondered if it was whatever he did that made you this… tormented. Because sometime after he walked in, the pain stopped.

“Good,” you whispered to yourself, nodding your thanks to Hermione and Parvati (who offered water) before going back to work. No heart attack was worth getting scolded by McGonagall.

Only the next morning did you find out about the Sectumsempra.

The breakfast tables’ chatter was interrupted with an odd hush. And of course, where there was gossip — there was no Harry Potter in sight.

“He’s not even here.”

“Of course he isn’t, he’s probably guilty.”

“OR being cursed to oblivion by Snape—“

“Oh no no, I heard the Gryffindors saying he’s still asleep. Probably another You-Know-Who nightmare.”

“Will you guys cut it out already, I want to read this!”

You shook your head at the yellow and blue tables before moving over to your own. Before sitting down, you made sure to peek over at the green one as you do every morning. You already waved and winked out of habit before noticing the seat you were smiling at was… empty.

And the others nearby were not happy about it.

“Oh good morning y/n,” Dean greeted. “Y/n? Where are you going?”

You ditched your house, running over to the two Slytherins shooting daggers at her. “Nott. Parkinson. What is it?”

“Why don’t you go ask your noble house-hero?” Theodore Nott snapped.

“Yeah, go ask the rascal how he casually murdered a student,” Parkinson scoffed.

“…” What? Murdered? Who? Surely not—

“Now that’s dramatic, Pansy,” Daphne Greengrass shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re this concerned, y/n, but I guess you’re his friend now,” she sighed.

“I am,” you nodded, ignoring Pansy’s glare. “Where is he? And where’s Zabini?”

“Draco’s in the hospital wing. Blaise is with him, trying to force potion down that stubborn idiot’s throat.”

Astoria Greengrass walked over to the table lazily, having just woken up. “Down who’s throa— Woah! Watch it!” She jumped back when a gust of red robes dashed past her and over to the Gryffindor table.

You slammed a hand on the table, sending Ron’s plate of chicken flying. Lavender Brown caught it and gave it back to him but you didn’t have time to watch it all. “What in Godric’s name did Harry do this time?” you grumbled, picking up your cloak and bag.

Hermione gripped your shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To the hospital wing, of course.” One word kept whirring through your head as you recalled the weird pain from yesterday. Soulmates.

“…Y/n…”

“Don’t you start, Granger.”

“Why would you care? He calls us mudbloods!”

“Maybe you should stop to think about a person before judging them on one damn word,” you snapped back, running out the door and down the hallways.

Never had Madam Promfey’s glare been madder than when you literally crashed through the giant doors. “I’m so sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I—”

“Where are you wounded?”

“…erm. No, I came to see Draco Malfoy.”

“…” Madam Pomfrey’s jaw nearly dropped, looking you up and down to check if your Gryffindor robes were a hoax. One eyebrow raised, she asked, “If you’re here to make him feel worse then by all means, get out, Miss y/l/n.”

“Madam Pomfrey, please. He’s my friend. I need to see him.”

The Slytherin matron blinked twice, thrice, before nodding slowly. “I see,” she mumbled, as though she understood something you didn’t.

And maybe she did.

“There’s nobody else around today, Mr Zabini and Mr Malfoy are over on the left side. I only allow one to remain by his side for more than ten minutes so…”

“I know.”

She nodded and walked away into her own part of the wing, letting you stumble over towards where you could see Zabini’s frame in the distance. “Zabini! Is he asleep?”

“Well if you shout like that of course he won’t be,” Blaise laughed, waving. “Look at you.”

“An absolute mess,” a hoarse voice croaked from behind him.

You dropped your bag and cloak on the next bed, made a mental note to Scourgify the bed before leaving, and walked to the other side of Draco’s bed. “Malfoy.”

“Y/l/n. What happened to you?”

“I think that’s my question.”

“No seriously, look at you!” Blaise snorted. “You look like a Niffler that got its gold snatched.”

You patted your uniform down, tucked your braid away before reaching over to the bag. “I got you this. Dunno if you can drink any but…” you held out a mug of Butterbeer.

Draco shook his head in silence, despite the sparkle in his eyes.

“If you drink that Butterbeer now, I’m gonna strangle the potion into you as well,” Blaise glared.

“I didn’t say I’ll drink it.” Draco pointed to the bedside table so you kept the mug there, muttering a charm to seal it shut for now. “Thank you.”

“What on earth happened?” You asked, your eyes finally catching onto the gashes on the sides of his neck, face and shoulders: the rest of him covered in hospital pyjamas and blankets. “I mean I heard much of it from the chatter in the breakfast hall but…”

“Stupid Potter,” Draco mumbled, turning his head away, too tired to explain.

Blaise took over. “Potter found him in the bathrooms, and attacked. For no reason. Sectumsempra. It’s a lacerating curse, according to Snape’s explanation to Poppy.”

“A lacerating cu—” you bit your tongue, plopping down on the bedside, one leg crossed under you. “He’s a bloody murderer!”

“Literally. Draco would have bled to death if Snape hadn’t found him by some odd stroke of luck,” Blaise shook his head, sitting down on the chair.

“I’ll kill him.”

“If anybody beats the Dark Lord to it, it’ll be you feisty little one for sure,” Blaise burst into laughter.

“I’m not joking! I heard the Hufflepuffs screeching he used a spell supposedly aimed for enemies. If Harry doesn’t know to distinguish between the level of enmity of a rival Slytherin STUDENT and goddamned YouKnowWho… I’ll teach him a bit,” you grinned. “Not a curse… I’m not that good. But there’s trickier hexes that last long enough.”

“Weasley twins’ wisdom?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, laughing with him. It was when your hands resting on the sheets moved and hit Draco’s wounded arm that you noticed. He hissed and you apologised automatically, before even seeing the wound showing through the lifted sleeve. “…What the—” you grabbed his arm and laid it on your lap, pulling back the sleeve.

A long, deep gash glowed dark red on his forearm, cutting right through a horrid black Dark Mark.

Draco tugged his arm away at your gasp. “What? I thought you’d have seen it at Potions.”

“Not the Mark you idiot, I don’t care about that.”

“…”

“This isn’t a mere Sectumsempra cut… is it? Why didn’t you tell Madam Pom—”

“...It’s not a cut Potter made.”

You gulped hard, breath stilling for a moment. “Draco… You didn’t have to do that.”

When he opened his mouth to say some insane complaint about being a Death Eater, you wagged your wand threateningly to silence him. “Some stupid dark sorcerer who can’t even kill a teenager that barely knows crap about offensive spells? He’s not worth fighting for or supporting, sure, but he’s definitely not worth torturing yourSELF out of guilt! Now you're being dumber than Snake-Man!”

“Snake-Man?” Blaise snorted.

“Oh it’s a term Dean and I came up with. Adds a bit of fun to the lousy old You-Know-Who,” you mocked, delighted to see Draco actually grinning from it all. “You, mister, better quit sulking around and hurting yourself. Snake-Man and everything he does is… wrong. But you’re a teenager, we all are! It’s not like any of us have a choice here. It’s stupid, all of this but… it’s not worth this,” you ended, patting his wrist lightly.

Blaise watched the bare hint of a thank you in Draco's eyes and so, slowly slipped out. “Be right back,” he left with a wink. You sat there on the bed, recounting silly incidents in Potions class from yesterday, when he hadn’t been around. Seamus blowing up the cauldron, Ron nearly squirting blueberry juice in Slughorn’s face… you were glad to see him this relaxed.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat from behind you. “I’m afraid Mr Zabini… had something to attend to. Miss y/l/n, you don’t mind staying here for a while?”

“Oh,” you bit your cheek guessing what Blaise did. Yet again, being the loyal wingman-bestie. “I think I can stay here for the rest of the day, Hermione would let the teachers know on my behalf.”

“Mr Zabini need not return?” Pomfrey smiled. “Understood,” she nodded, pulling the curtains close. “Oh, no funny business, the two of you.”

“M-Madam Pomfrey!” Draco nearly shrieked when she walked away laughing.

“…”

“…So.”

“You sure it’s alright to skip classes?”

“Meh, it’s just for a day. I’ll get the notes so we could go somewhere quiet and maybe write together. Only maybe! O-Only if you’d want to—”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You beamed at him, and he weakly smiled back. “Hey, that potion…”

Draco opened his mouth without a word. You blinked for a few seconds before laughing “What are you, a baby?”

“Oh come on, just do it.”

And you did. One spoon of potion, before quickly feeding a spoon of Butterbeer too. “How’s that?”

“I think I could drink that entire bottle and mug now,” he grinned. “As long as it’s you feeding.”

“Merlin, aren’t you a fli—“ Peck, he cut you off with one chaste kiss. “Wha- What was that for!”

“The potion, love.” His face was aglow with a sharp smirk, smugly reaching up pat your cheek. “You see, I flirt to divert my mind from the sourness. I’m sure you hardly hated that, pretty gi— Mmph!”

“And that’s called sweet revenge,” you shoved his face with potion. When he had swallowed it all and wiped his mouth, you held up the Butterbeer mug. “Drink up.”

Having downed the drink, he sat up and watched in silence while you made him comfortable, stuffing a pillow to his back and pulling up the sheets. When you looked up, you saw him smiling softly, a stark contrast from the stiff and icy Slytherin Prince he often was. “What?”

“You’re cute.”

“What- Where did that come from?”

“Just thought of it. Blaise once said: When I say cute girls, I mean caring and pretty. Now I know.”

“When will you stop…?” you grumbled feeling your cheeks and ears were on fire. He laughed, pulling you close enough for you to rest your head against him. “Draco?”

“Hold me.” It was a quiet whisper, almost fragile.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him loosely, aware of the countless wounds. “I vow to hex Harry's brains out. But you… Promise you won’t do something like that again?”

He nodded into your hair, breathing softly until the potion worked and he fell asleep right in your arms.

#draco malfoy x gryffindor reader #Draco Malfoy x y/n #Hogwarts hospital wing dates #Poppy Pomfrey #Blaise Zabini #soulmates #first kiss #Hogwarts fluff #comfort fluff #Blaise and Poppy are good wingpeople #harry potter #hogwarts

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warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Text

221B, Baker Street.

Dumbledore in his 20s, a bit of a celebrity, a lot of eccentricity. Gellert Grindelwald has disappeared and the press chases after him so he hides away in a house: a magically hidden one, quite like Grimmauld Place (referred to as Black Manor). Except it’s a crazy address that he made up for fun.

You, as his dearest friend and not-so-secret admirer, are called when he wants a chat and a hug. So you go. Revelations, confessions… it’s a sweet evening.

Tags: young!Dumbledore x reader, gender-neutral reader, post-Grindelwald's betrayal, comfort fluff, a very British evening tea date, a sign from above, Confessions, and kisses, Hufflepuff reader, Gryffindor/Hufflepuff

A/N: To my beautiful sister, who makes me feel loved on a daily basis. And who taught me it was okay to crush on a man who was 100+ in the original movies, if it was on his younger version~ (Coz Jude Law is *chef's kiss*) Have an ice cone, Cindy 🍦xx

221B, Baker Street.

The house that was but a legend to almost everybody worldwide. Everybody except you and its current resident, that is.

Though you seriously doubted whether there even was such a house previously, and whether it had any residents prior to this eccentric young man… you had to find out for yourself.

Surely, he can’t be pulling me into some ridiculous hoax… you chided yourself for giving in, before tapping the note again. “Lumos.”

It was dark in this particular cubicle. Lucky for you, the Ministry wouldn’t be too happy to hear their excellent Auror was reading letters from notorious Albus godforsaken Dumbledore.

The note read,

Sunny,

Guess who this is!

Are you free enough to drop by for a visit? I would appreciate it, given the circumstances. House is charmed, they won’t know.

221b, Baker Street.

No, I am not kidding. Somewhere near Royal Albert Hall.

See you tomorrow x

“Protection from the Ministry, good,” you mumbled, fingering the letter. “Tomorrow, huh…”

You knew the “circumstances” well enough. Gellert Grindelwald, the moron who clung to your best friend since pre-teens, had disappeared. It was all over the Prophet, the man was a nuisance to the Ministry: they both were. With one gone missing, they began chasing after the other for clues and conspiracies, until he too vanished.

To the others. You’d gotten an old barn owl the morning of the news claiming he was safe and he’d contact you soon. And so, he did.

Bet he sees now who the real friend was all along, you harrumphed as you tucked the letter in your inner robes and Apparated out the Ministry. Good thing they had handed over a mission to you just an hour ago, you could leave on that excuse.

Missions can wait. Tomorrow can go to hell. Albus needed you. So there you stood before the Royal Albert Hall, hands in your pockets, staring in awe at its glamour. Images of a date from long long ago flashed across your reminiscing mind.

A bright summer… fifteen-year-old you… sixteen-year-old Albus… a soothing orchestra concert… a late night kiss near the ice cream stand outside…

An envious Gellert Obliviating and apparating him away right after…

Your smile faded as fast as it came, your head turned away from the grandiose venue. The smile grew again upon seeing the ice cream stall standing there as lively as before. Curious, it hadn’t been there before, every other night you’d come here seeking comfort… A sign from Nature, you told yourself. Today might be a good day to see him after all.

So you moved away from the crowded steps of the Hall and bought two ice cones, muttering under your breath with closed eyes, “221b, Baker Street. 221b, Baker Street.”

And there it was. You opened your eyes to a tall house down the road, not too far from the hall itself, a little board on its door reading “221b, Baker Street.” You shook your head with a laugh, delighted nobody else was seeing it somehow. You rushed up to the doorstep and waved your wand at the charm on the lock. Of course, Dumbledore’s unique protection ward unlocked itself for you.

As always.

The door creaked open, and you hurried in, mouth agape at the dust. “Honestly Al, don’t you know to look after the place you live in?”

“Sunny! Oh, darling, thank goodness you’re here,” a tired but jovial voice chirped from the stairs. You heard Dumbledore stumble down and almost fall onto you, before you twirled away.

“Nah-uh, no hugs, not with ice cream in my hands.”

“Oh my!” he exclaimed happily, picking his glimmering self up and snatching one of the cones. Glimmering, because his hair was slick from the shower, and his shirt and pants were pristine orange. Brighter than those new colourful automobiles.

“I guess you don’t need to pull the curtains for the sun anyway,” you laughed as he lapped at it oh so childishly. “You’re a walking torch yourself.”

“Right? I love this look!”

“Meh.”

“Come now, darling, it is lovely.”

“What’s with the darling-ing today?” you bit your cheek to dismiss the blush.

“I believe you like it.”

“…” Sure you did but since when did he know? He hasn’t called you darling since the night you— “Hey, Al, what’s with the place? Fake address… for fun, I know you well.”

“Mhm, you do. It seemed fun to indulge a bit.”

“…whatever. But the location?”

“Why here, you mean?” Albus waved out a greasy window to the busy lane. “Hm, memories. Don’t you like it?”

He was smiling, that all-knowing, smug smile with the twinkle in his eye. So you didn’t bother answering. Somehow… Somehow… he found out. Or rather, remembered.

But this was no time to talk about teenage first-dates. “I’m glad you called but is everything alright?”

“Better question,” Dumbledore sighed as he downed the last of the ice cone and beckoned you to the kitchen. “Why did I find you on my doorstep seconds after the owl got back?”

“I— I did not—“

“You did, I only sent the old fellow seven minutes ago.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t hear from my closest friend, a crackhead Gryffindor who’s boyfriend just ran away, for two weeks, and you expect me not be worried sick? Of course I ran here immediately!”

“Right, my bad, took a while to set the place up properly.” He shook his head sadly. “Alas, I am unaware of who this so-called boyfriend is.”

“Ruddy Grindelwald is who,” you shook your head to mock him. “What happened?”

“…Well,” Albus took a deep breath. “He had enough of me. Who’d have thought our opposing views of the world would go…this far.”

“Who indeed,” you shook your head again.

“Hey,” Albus tapped your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For not listening to you. I didn’t realise he had me controlled until he moved away and whatever bond there was…shattered.”

“Bond?” you asked, sitting beside him at the teak dinner table.

“Bond. We used the magic of Trust, and formed a contract-like bond where neither could dare betray the other, which is still there…” he sighed. “But at least the control he had over my mind is gone…”

“The rest of your mind, that is,” you scoffed.

“…yes. Anyhow, I happened to recall some things I had kept aside for later. Like that night long ago, somewhere up this very lane?”

You gasped, a tad too audibly so you cleared your throat and averted your gaze. “Uhuh? What was it?”

He sensed your avoidance and decided to play along, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, that night, I took a beautiful person to a concert at the RA Hall. And the music was lovely, but so was my date so I might have stared more at the angel beside me than the performers. And then you dragged me off to an ice cream stand; and you know, the stand’s back in town. That old lady passed away, her son runs it now.”

“Me? H—How would I know?”

“Because I remember the face I stared at all night too well to forget by Gellert’s weak Obliviating Charm.”

“…How?”

He chuckled softly, and you looked down at the teacup that appeared before you. Of course, this was one of the most powerful wizards of his age, perhaps he had protected himself against the Obliviate back then.

Eleven years. And he didn’t spill a word… probably for your sake, should Gellert find out and attack. But eleven years of loneliness…

“We also kissed that night.” A casual statement, deceivingly blasé.

“Did we?” you gulped.

“Mhm,” he hummed over the tea.

Oh, the urge bubbling in you to say—

“We could do that again.”

After eleven years, he beat you to it. Again. “Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff,” you dramatically heaved a sigh: that made him laugh merrily, the gloom on his face disappearing.

“Gryffindor wins!” he raised his teacup. “Say, now I get to call you darling, don’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you do,” you smiled. “Though I’d still prefer Sunny.” The nickname he coined long ago when he first met you, saying it described you perfectly.

“Of course, it’s our special thing,”he winked. “Sunny darling…” he smiled at the way you burst into laughter. “May I kiss you?”

“For the sake of old memories?”

“Quite the contrary. For the sake of new ones,” he turned to face you, one hand tucking stray hairs behind your ear, the other cupping your cheek.

You remembered how he responded back then when you asked to go out together. “An offer worth considering,” you laughed.

And so did he, before kissing you lightly. “Consider fast then, Gryffindors lack patience.”

“Clearly.” You shut your eyes, revelling in his arms wrapped around you, relishing the softness of the moment, giggling at the light stubble you felt now, that wasn’t there before.

Times change… you thought as his now sturdier arms hugged you close. Hearts don’t.

#Hufflepuff reader #Hogwarts fluff #Dumbledore x y/n #Dumbledore x reader #Dumbledore x you #fantastic beasts #secrets of dumbledore #comfort fluff #evening tea dates and kisses

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warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Text

to live for

Draco apparates to “Where Dobby is”, only to find said elf’s grave. At least Aunt Trixie’s knife didn’t hit Potter… Who turns up right when he’s about to leave. So he decides to stay a while longer with this… newfound friend/secret lover.

Tags: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Golden Trio, Post-Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, RIP Dobby, mild angst with comfort, gay wizard fluff, ✨Their First Kiss✨, just a lakeside Drarry date

A/N: To all this beautiful gayness in the world. Lol- And to my gay bestie. Faun, you'll always be the most casually beautiful, Pinterest-worthy girl in the world ✨ Have a lily from Drarry xx 💐

It was late at night, he could tell that much from the cold breeze humming from the lakeside. The Golden Trio had just returned from their first and probably last visit to Malfoy Manor. Harry Potter had just climbed into bed after a most tragic burial, and lay there staring up at the canvas roof of the tent.

Merlin’s pants, it had been one mad rollercoaster ride. From being nearly caught by Greyback’s searchers… to Hermione’s hex-disguise on him… to Malfoy lying to save him… to Pettigrew meeting his long overdue end… to Dobby's sacrifice...

Harry hardly had tears left tonight.

The grief and exhaustion was too much. It was so bad for his friends that both had fallen asleep fast. Somehow, he was the only one up.

Nothing new there, I suppose.

The after-effects of Bellatrix Black's torture had been enough to make Hermione pass out onto Ron's lap over dinner. He'd left them both to their own side of the tent, a tinge of satisfaction at the whole ordeal bringing the two closer.

But he couldn't ignore how it only made him feel lonelier.

He shook his head and sat up, giving himself a slow moment of silence to see if he might just feel drowsy. Sleep never came.

He slipped out of the sheets, dragged his feet outside. They had run out of whatever sleeping potion Hermione had, and the muggle sleeping pills were left at their last hideout.

Hands in his pockets, feet buried in the gravel (he ditched his shoes, too much noise), he took in a deep breath of the moist lakeside air and looked up at the sky. The crescent moon hung low overhead, lighting up the blanket of dark grey clouds. The sky wasn’t half as gloomy here as it was back in England. It felt nice. The warmth and brilliance of the moon was sort of a reassurance that he was safe here. That his friends were safe here.

All at once, he was aware of a presence that radiated a feeling of security: a strong feeling of “I’m safe now” washed through him.

Which was new given all he ever thought about was his friends’ safety. Others’. Most of whom he lost.

Ugh, quit brooding, Harry. Let’s just… take a breather, he chided himself, walking across the banks to the little elf's grave. He could feel the warm presence still though he convinced himself it was merely the moon. His fingers wrapped tight around the wand just in case the presence was... deceiving. Another lie.

Nothing had happened by the time he subconsciously stopped beside Dobby's grave. "Hello, Dobby."

The clouds cleared up a bit to shed more moonlight along the lake banks, and that was when he saw. Strings of elegant, shimmering flowers were strung around the headstone, wrapping up the rock firmly and yet tenderly. They were creepers of the finest, sparkliest lilies. The green of their stems and leaves, however, were an oddly familiar shade of dark green... and the flowers themselves had a magical glow to their even more familiar pristine, platinum white.

Years of duelling and fighting took action and made Harry grip his wand ever so tight ––

But one day of seeing the hidden truth kept him from attacking.

So this was the “comforting presence” lurking in the dark… he lowered his wand.

Harry heard a soft exhale. “You're not going to Sectumsempra me?”

“...you saved my life.”

“Hm. Pity.”

“What are you doing here?" The burning question spilt out of his chapped lips. What abominable reason could possibly bring... HIM... of all people... to this place, at this hour?

Draco Malfoy scoffed. “He was my elf before yours.”

Well, he had a point. Harry waited for any other remarks, any of the usual snarky comments... but none came. So he nodded, sat cross-legged on the sand, subtly shifting to the side. Draco walked into the light at last and Harry caught a glimpse of green turtleneck sweater and black coat. Draco pondered for a minute before sitting right beside the Gryffindor.

Silence.

Both wizards sat there on the sand, staring at the white lilies glowing in the moonlight. Both are nothing but young boys being shoved into a war, left without a choice because of their parents. Both are young adults that were once merely children playing with Dobby secretly, in Malfoy Manor or Privet Drive: because neither family would have allowed it.

Perhaps they both saw this at last. Perhaps they finally grew up. Perhaps that was why Harry waved his hand for a quiet wandless Accio charm.

"Show-off," Draco mumbled when a Firewhiskey bottle flew somewhere out of Ron's secret stash and into Harry's grip. Harry held it out to his once arch-nemesis. The latter hesitated, staring silently at the dark, calloused hand before him.

Harry placed the bottle down, rolling up his sleeves.

“Those flowers—“

“They’re called lilies, scarhead.”

“Right. They’re… nice.”

“If that’s your best attempt at complimenting my magic then no thank you.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and taking another sip. He HAD to be drunk to be doing any of this. “They’re beautiful. Very.”

“…Thanks.”

“But honestly, what’s with the green sweater?” Harry grinned. “Your mania over your house is far from just pride at this point—“

“It’s my favourite colour. For other reasons. Got a problem?”

“What reasons to make the lilies look that greenish?”

“That was for you, you blasted idiot.”

Green to signify Harry being Dobby’s closest friend? Or green lilies to comfort him? The way this is going, I’ll never know, the green-eyed son of Lily thought to himself, gulping down another two sips of Firewhiskey to calm his spinning head.

Back to the silence.

A slow breeze washed over them, splashing the string of lilies with a bit of moisture, sweeping over the grave. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin watched the draught glitter gold with sand; waltzing across the lake, away from them, over to the hillside. The lakewater splashed against the rocks, tide rising a little with the wind current. The gust of wind took away a lot more than just a pile of sand. Hatred… Coldness...

He downed some more alcohol to hide the sudden smile. Silence was exactly what worked with the both of them, he concluded. They’d probably never be able to talk like normal humans.

“What are you, daydreaming?”

Yep. This is exactly what I meant. “No, I realised we can’t ever talk without sounding like we’re duelling.”

“‘Duelling’. A decent way to phrase it. I’d vote for ‘murdering each other’.”

“Well what do you want me to do, apologise? You started it!”

“You’re the idiot who decided to go against all Slytherins just because of whatever we did as eleven-year-olds on the first day of school!”

“Well I’m sorry but you were being ridiculously rude—“

“I just wanted to befriend you, but all you did was scowl at me, what—“

“Draco.”

“… stop that,” the blond looked away, tossing a handful of grass at him.

Harry blinked in confusion, seeing the tips of the other’s ears gleaming red. “I’m sick of calling you your father’s name, it’s stupid,” he shook his head, delighted he really was drunk. “You’re nothing like him.”

“He reminds me of that everyday, thank you very much.”

“Ugh, I meant you’re more…” Better? Understanding? Handso— What— Harry, get yourself together. “Humane. Than him. You’re better.”

The red crept a little down his neck. “Whatever. Don’t expect me to call you Harry.”

“That would need a miracle,” Harry laughed. “But Draco, I did want to be a friend, you know. I was new to the world, and you were the first I saw at Diagon Alley. When I saw you again at Hogwarts, I was happy, actually.” He scoffed sourly. “Until you decided to ridicule my first friend, that is…”

Draco remained silent, drawing doodles on the sand, having plucked off all the grass nearby.

“You know, your sticky glossy hair never helped your impression, I hated the sleek look.”

That won a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Looks much better now though.”

Draco laughed again, nervously ruffling the back of his head. “You’re drunk bad, aren’t you?”

Harry shrugged and offered the bottle to him.

“I don’t want Firewhiskey.”

“Then what do you want?”

The sparkling platinum head snapped up in surprise, eyeing him to see if he was joking around or if the tone really did mean anything this time. Draco found the eyes a bit too intoxicating, more so than the whiskey bottle below, so he diverted his gaze away from their sharp green and down to the pink, injured lips.

…Bad idea.

“Eyes up here, Draco,” Harry smirked.

“You’re seriously more drunk than I am,” Draco shook his mane. “If you’re such a bloody Gryffindor and you know what I want then I dare you to—“

His slurring words cut off as a pair of hands cupped his face, pulling him closer. Soft, chapstick-covered lips crashed against chapped, dry ones. On reflex, Draco punched his shoulder and grabbed him by the collar, but when Harry didn’t relent — or rather kissed him a little harder — he let go. Let go of the eight years of tension and sat there, eyes shut, drinking it in. He couldn’t help but smirk: Harry seemed to be enjoying himself.

“What are you grinning for? Am I that bad at it?” Harry whispered, pulling away panting.

“Hm, fairly tolerable.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Means you need more practice,” the Slytherin laughed. Wrapping one protective hand around the back of his head and the other cupping his chin, he pushed him onto the sand. Lips felt each other at first, before their tongues danced in a frenzy, like the draught of wind with its pile of sand. Harry found himself straddled and locked in place by a pair of perfect pearl-white arms.

Not that he wanted to move away from this anyway.

Draco didn’t stop either, not until Harry tapped his back to come up for air. The blond rolled off the body underneath him and sat on the sand. Harry sat up to find him deep in thought, head hanging, skin aglow from the rising sun. “Draco?”

“I have to go.”

Harry felt his throat constrict, but nodded his agreement nonetheless. “You can’t stay? You’re not really with them… right?”

Draco shook his head, openly denying it for the first time in his life. “I have no choice, just like you. Mum…” he bit his tongue.

As it finally dawned on Harry why Draco was doing all this, he sighed. “I see. She’d be looking for you then,” he pointed to the specks of sunlight dotting the horizon.

Draco nodded. “I…” He didn’t know what to say, or rather how to. So he rose to his feet, dusted off the sand.

Harry stood too. “Erm,” he held Draco’s shoulders still to leave a light peck on his cheek. The Slytherin blushed hard, punching him lightly in the stomach while the other laughed. “I’ll see you around, Potter.”

“Someday,” Harry nodded back.

And just like the wind, he disappeared.

“Thank you, Dobby,” he whispered, patting the grave. Because had it not been for Dobby, the Gryffindor hero who lost almost everyone, had just found another person to love, to live for.

#drarry #harry x draco #draco x harry #hogwarts #comfort fluff #first kiss #boys who like boys #gay Hogwarts fluff #lakeside dates with Drarry #mild angst with comfort #harry potter #Draco malfoy

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warmerthanhotcoco · 1 year

Text

quiet space

You're playing Quidditch with the other Gryffindors when you see Newt Scamander walking into the Forbidden Forest. Of course you fake an injury and slip away to check on him. Just out of curiosity. …Right? When inside the Forest, he finds you instead.

"Oi! Quit daydreaming and fly!" "Are you even listening?" You turned around and shook your head in apology. "Ah, sorry." You waited until a good half-hour of the practice had passed to bang your arm on a goalpost, successfully injuring yourself. The Captain sighed in disappointment and told you off for a solid ten minutes before sending you off to Madam Pomfrey. Wasting an idle fifteen minutes battling Peeves in the corridors, you ran back to the Quidditch pitch knowing the Gryffindors would have left. But to your dismay, you couldn't find the one Hufflepuff either. Where did he go?

You grabbed your broom and took off, swirling around the grounds before landing in an opening in the Forest. Just when you did, something moved by the tree behind you.

Whipping your wand out, you spun around, broom held mid-air like a baton ready to bash the beast's head. But there was no beast in sight. You frowned, narrowing your eyes and mumbling a revealing charm. A single leaf wiggled in response. Slowly, a twig detached itself, climbed down the tree to your eye level, and stood on a lower branch.

You chuckled to yourself, lowering your defence wards and weapons before taking a step closer to the tree. "Hello there," you gave the Bowtruckle a little wave. The two leaves atop its head twitched in caution. It squeaked and ran, disappearing into the foliage. "Hey, wait! Oh come on, I'm not that scary!"

"Not at all, he's j-just extremely s-shy," a soft, low voice stammered a little to your left. You looked around to find a young boy in yellow robes fixing his glasses, the Bowtruckle on his shoulder trying desperately to hide in his ridiculously messy mop of hair. Beautiful, glittery hair.

"Well, then I shan't be surprised if Bowtruckles were your favourite species," you grinned, smacking his upper arm, laughing when he jumped at the touch. "See?"

"S… Sorry, just bad with…" Newt Scamander waved at your hands vaguely.

"Physical touch?"

He nodded, head tilted low.

"Aww, sorry. You'll get used to it," you smiled. "Shoulda prepared yourself for it when you first agreed to be best friends with clingy me." With that, you sat on the grass, laid your broom beside you, and patted the ground. Newt nibbled the inside of his cheek, weighing the pros and cons of spending a free afternoon with you in the forest, before quickly sitting across from you.

You both crossed your legs and removed your cloaks –– the forest was far too warm. You tossed yours against the tree, striking perfectly and letting it sink to rest on the roots. Newt shuffled over, picked it up, patted the poor fabric, folded it neatly and placed it atop his own. You could see a subtle head-shake, lips twitching at the tips. "What's so funny? I'm tired from practice, okay?!"

He nodded, letting out a chuckle before beckoning the Bowtruckle down. "Say hello," he patted it.

A low grunt and a wave followed, making you laugh. "Oh, you're hardly friendly. Hello. Say, Scamander, why are you here anyway? Don't––" you added, when he opened his mouth warily. "Don't tell me you just walked in, I saw you coming in here an hour ago."

"I… Ju– Just…" He gulped, eyes darted back up. Seeing you waiting with a patient smile, his shoulders relaxed a bit. "I come here… to s… study."

"You study here? Merlin's beard, the Forbidden Forest is your quiet space? Takes a damn lot of courage to even come in here, you're in the wrong house!" You clapped, laughing and cheering. "Makes sense. You do love animals, it would make sense to want to study in the middle of a bloody jungle. And for someone who's boggart is an office desk…"

His mouth twitched in a smirk, making you laugh. "It's not exactly Care of Magical Creatures, though…"

"Oh?"

He nodded again.

"Let me take a wild guess." He looked up, eyes far off but alert, the way they always were. "You're writing your own book on magical beings?"

"…" He gulped and shook his head vigorously, hair flying. "No, no, just ta..king my own notes," he denied slowly.

"If that's what you call it for now, sure," you flashed a grin. "I don't know about your writing skills, but I do know you're mad about these ones," you waved at the Bowtruckle, holding out your pinky finger, waiting. The creature pulled a face but relented. You felt a little leafy twig wrapping around your finger and glanced at Newt, beaming with pride. "Look! He likes me!"

Newt was probably surprised too, the way he smiled a little grin. "Who wouldn't?" you heard him mutter.

"I heard that," you smirked, holding out your free hand. The Hufflepuff gazed at it for three long seconds before clasping your hand in his own. "…"

"Wanna go back inside or stay? I could bribe a Prefect of ours to help get in after curfew."

"… Stay." He didn't stutter this time.

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x you #newt scamander x y/n #Gryffindor reader #cinnamon roll newt scamander #autistic newt scamander #hp fandom #fantastic beasts #hogwarts fluff #forbidden forest dates

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