ashdreams2023

[ashdreams2023]

I have been sick for the past two weeks so please excuse me, Anton’s who’s waiting for a request to be done

[ashdreams2023]

Like Smoke

✧.* H.P x reader ✎ Post-war, somewhere between moving on and never healing, Harry Potter has forgotten what is most important. 𖦹 1.1k ☁︎ ANGST! // happy ending? // post war trauma [masterlist] Much Love, Saige ★ request : @heartsnaomi ϟ taglist ϟ : @littlemadamred @raiweasley @ulearnnewthingseveryday @marianaissocool @freshherbz

You used to believe that love meant waiting.

Waiting for him to look at you like he looked at her. Waiting for the ghosts in his eyes to finally leave. Waiting for him to choose you— fully, finally, out loud.

And so you waited. Through the silences. Through the way he kissed you with hesitation instead of hunger. Through the nights he said your name like it didn’t quite fit in his mouth.

You waited because you thought love was supposed to hurt sometimes.

But now you know— It’s not supposed to feel like this.

You hear her name one night. It’s not even said to you.

It’s passed through a door, soft and familiar—like something he forgot not to say.

Ginny.

And it carves through your ribs like glass. Not because he said it. But because of how he said it.

Gentle. Safe. Like a memory he still sleeps inside.

You don’t confront him.

You never do.

What would you even say?

Do you think of her when I’m touching you? Do you see her face when you close your eyes at night? Did you ever love me—or was I just the person who picked up your pieces when no one else wanted to look?

You keep the words locked behind your teeth, where they taste like blood and shame.

You pretend you didn’t hear it.

But you do.

And it stays.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You measure your worth in seconds now.

Seconds he’s quiet. Seconds he leaves the bed without saying goodbye. Seconds his fingers linger just a little less each time.

He holds you like you’re going to vanish. You wonder if that’s what he wants.

You try to remember the last time he said your name with something like certainty.

You can’t.

But you can remember the first time he kissed you. It was soft and panicked and sad.

You should’ve known then.

That you weren’t being chosen.

You were being used — to forget.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The worst part is, you can’t even hate him.

Because he’s broken. And you love him.

You love him in that foolish, pathetic way people only love once in their lives—when they still think they can fix someone by holding them harder.

But you’re tired.

You’re tired of watching him look for her in every room. You’re tired of being a secret even he doesn’t want to keep.

And tonight, when he crawls into bed and doesn’t touch you again, you make the decision quietly—

You’re done.

You’re done loving someone who only lets you in when it’s dark. You’re done pretending he doesn't still miss her in the morning. You’re done being the girl who waited.

You lie still until his breathing evens out beside you. You study the outline of his face in the moonlight, and you wonder if you’ll ever stop loving him.

You probably won’t.

But you’ll still leave.

Because sometimes love isn’t enough.

And sometimes the most painful goodbye is the one you never get to say out loud.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s been a long time since you let him go.

You’ve filled the silence he left behind with new things— Books you never had time to read. New cafés where no one knows your name. Mornings that no longer begin with the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

You’ve healed, mostly. You don’t look over your shoulder in the rain anymore. You don’t dream about the way he used to breathe beside you in bed— at least, not every night.

You stopped waiting.

You had to.

So when the knock comes, soft and unsure, you almost don’t answer.

But something in your chest — something old and buried — pulls you to the door.

And when you open it…

It’s him. Harry.

His hair is longer. He looks tired. Like he’s been running, not just through streets, but through time. Through regret.

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

He looks at you like he’s memorizing you for the first time. And when he speaks, his voice is rough. Unsteady.

“I know it’s late,” he says. “Too late. But I had to see you.”

Your heart doesn’t know what to do. It starts and stumbles, and you hate that it still recognizes him so easily.

You don’t let him in.

Not yet.

“I realized something,” he continues, eyes locked on yours. “That night you left, I thought you were just angry. I thought you’d come back, like you always did.”

You swallow hard.

“I waited. And when you didn’t… I still waited.”

You cross your arms. Not to protect yourself — but to hold yourself together.

“Harry—”

“No. Please. Let me say it.”

He steps closer. The air between you is electric, aching.

“You were it,” he says, voice breaking. “You were always it. I was just too messed up to see it. I kept trying to love people who fit into the idea of what I thought I needed. But you, God, you were what I needed.”

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t.

Not yet.

“I thought love had to be loud. Explosive. But you… you were steady. You stayed. You saw me — all of me. And I didn’t choose you.”

He finally looks up.

“But I am now. If there’s any part of you that still—” He cuts himself off. “If there’s any piece of you left that can forgive me, I’ll spend whatever time I have proving that I was supposed to be yours.”

You let the silence stretch for a long, agonizing moment.

And then — finally — you speak.

“I begged you to see me.”

“I know.”

“I loved you so quietly. So completely.”

“I know,” he whispers. “And I didn’t deserve it. But I want to now. I want us, if you’ll let me.”

You stare at him.

You think of all the nights you held onto your pillow instead of him. All the mornings you woke up and tried to unlove him. All the versions of a future you built where he never came back.

And now he’s standing right in front of you.

Not asking for a second chance.

Just asking if there’s anything left.

And somehow, in spite of everything… there is.

Not blind hope. Not naïve love.

But something more fragile. More real.

You step aside.

“Come in,” you whisper.

He walks through the door like he knows what it cost you to open it.

He doesn't try to kiss you. Doesn’t rush.

He just stands in your space, hands trembling.

And when you finally wrap your arms around him, he breathes like he hasn’t in years.

Because this time, you’re not the one choosing him.

He’s choosing you.

[ashdreams2023]

Driving out of town for the first time pray for me please ☺️

[ashdreams2023]

A thought to my fellow writers, reader doesn’t need to already have a crush on rhe fictional character 🙂

Come on everyone, it’s fun to build up romance

[ashdreams2023]

Tom Riddle Being Intrigued by his project partner

Requested by anon

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: Headcanons for Tom Riddle being intrigued by his project partner

You had been partnered up with Tom for a project in potions much to both of your dismay

He didn’t want to work with anyone because anyone he did work with ended up scared of him and barely did any work. And you didn’t want to work with him because you knew of his reputation of trying to scare people off.

You also kinda had a crush on him despite barely knowing him. You just found him very attractive

You start your project in the library and he’s surprised when you don’t run away from him straight away like every other project partner he’s had does

When he tries to scare you off he’s surprised when you seem unintimidated by him.

You spend the next few days working on your project every day after classes.

He is intrigued by you especially every single day when you show up to work with him. He knows there’s something different about you than everyone else bed worked with before but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He finds himself staring at you unintentionally

When you try and scold him for staring at you he just laughs at you.

He laughs at how innocent and unintimidating you are

It makes him even more intrigued by you. Knowing how pure and innocent you are.

He teases you a lot calling you cute

You see a side to him that he doesn’t show anyone.

He finds that maybe he can be himself a bit more around you rather than having to put on a front like he does with everyone else

[ashdreams2023]

Don't skip 🚨Emergency

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, ( #564)✅️

We have been forcibly displaced from our homes and now find ourselves without shelter, food, or basic necessities.

We urgently call on kind-hearted individuals and humanitarian organizations to come to our aid.

Every donation, no matter how small, can make a big difference in the lives of our children and families.

🚨Please help us — time is running out 🚨

My name is Mahmoud Al-Halaq, from Palestine - Gaza - I am 29 years old. This message is addressed to every person who carries compassion, kindness, and love in their heart. After 470 days of war on Gaza, the destruction that has occurred, the displacement we have faced, moving from one place to another, and the loss and death of loved ones and friends, I found myself alone without a home or place, and even the prices of food are astronomical. The world has changed so much that life has become gloomy and boring. Therefore, I ask for your help in rebuilding myself, my life, and my family's life anew. You are our remaining hope in life. If there were an opportunity to work, I would not waste a minute nor ask for help from anyone, but I urgently need assistance for my family, my children, and the women to rebuild what has been destroyed and crushed in this devastating and painful war. Thank you for your time and support; we draw our strength and resilience from your support. 🍉

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, ( #564)✅️

[ashdreams2023]

Working out with large boobs is hell on earth, tf you mean look down at your bellybutton all I see is boob💀

[ashdreams2023]

Discomfort

Summary: you’ve lived a peaceful and happy life with your husband severus but a certain coworker of his has triggered some doubts about your self worth

Severus snape x fem reader

Fluff

All your life you tried to avoid conflict, you enjoyed your peace, the quietness in the loud world and it carried all into adulthood.

Your husband loved that about you, you knew that, from the very first moment you met, he was a dark storm while you heard the cool breeze of fall.

There wasn’t a moment you doubted your husband’s love or loyalty but recently you’ve been feeling a little uncomfortable with the way a certain coworker was talking to him.

To be fair Severus never paid her any mind but your countless visits to his office left you uneasy, She was always trying to sweet-talk her way into his space, pumping into him, trying to get closer to him.

You never commented on it because well…your husband didn’t give her the reaction she was looking for but the way she acted, it stirred a very old and unpleasant feeling in your chest.

Insecurity.

Back in school, you would move on by staying out of the way of the person that made you feel this way but this time you couldn’t, there was no escaping this.

She was younger, dressed more…appealing to a man’s eye, whilst you preferred to dress for comfort and didn’t look to attract attention with your outfits, even during official events you chose the classic look, Severus liked, said you looked beautiful but shouldn’t you try harder? He was your husband…

That woman would call you cute, but not in a friendly harmless way, it was like she…belittled you.

The night he came back home he found prepping dinner quietly, he could sense something was off, the table was plain, you liked decorating the dining table, and the fireplace was not lit.

"Good evening," he said softly.

"Evening sev" Your reply wasn’t satisfactory, something was wrong, so without taking off his outer robes he walked up behind you and gently put his hands on your waist, turning you around to look up at him.

Your lips looked dry, and the apparent lack of sleep was a clear sign that you weren’t ok.

"Did something happen while I was gone?" He asked, leaning in to your face, his warm breath tickling your nose.

You tried avoiding his dark eyes but it was useless, Severus always managed to see through you and whatever act you had up.

"I don’t do well with lies you know that," He said.

"I know…I simply don’t think it’s worth mentioning, I’ll be fine"

Severus refused to let you go, his hold on you not painful but firm.

"I can wait for you all night" And by god, he meant those words.

After a couple of minutes of just staring into each other's souls you let out a sigh and then lay your head on his chest.

"I don’t like how I feel when that one professor tries talking to you…it makes me feel small and insignificant" You admitted.

It didn’t take a genius to know who you meant, Severus wasn’t daft, he simply didn’t think it would bother you, especially when he showed no interest in the woman.

Severus looked down at you, his gaze softened "You silly girl, why must you worry about such delusion? Have I ever looked at another individual the way I look at you?"

"No…"

"Then why, why do you question your worth over imaginary scenarios, I thought you were above this petal" His arms wrapped around your body, holding you close, his nose buried in your hair and for what felt like forever he rocked you in his arms.

You didn’t dance in the kitchen like most couples but he held you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

"I’m sorry…I don’t know why I think such things" You apologized.

He hummed, planting a butterfly kiss to your forehead then your nose, and finally your lips.

"Don’t you dare apologize for being human" he said firmly "You are the only human being I would rather die than stay living without, you are perfect to me, god sent to shine my dull miserable life, so don’t for even a second think i would betray the trust you put in me…no one is stealing me away."

You didn’t realize when it happened but you stayed quiet as the tears fell down your cheeks, You had no idea you needed a good cry but here you were, in your husband’s arms, crying like a babe.

And after all that emotional pain, your slept soundly for once after a long time, with your head laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and knowing he’ll never leave your side.

[ashdreams2023]

⚠️‼️PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE⚠️‼️

We have collected $15,337 raised of $20,000 !🇵🇸

🇵🇸 save family lost their home ,dreams and everything in Gaza 🇵🇸

This is my home before the war and after the war how it became💔💔💔

Before: After:

We have been through many wars before, but this war was not like the ones before it. Our lives were turned upside down. We became displaced from one place to another. We are the Anas family, residents of northern Gaza, specifically in the Shujaiya area. In the first week of the war, we fled our home because everyone considered our home to be in a dangerous area. We moved to the Rimal area, specifically in the middle of Gaza. There, we received the news that our home, which contained all our beautiful memories, was bombed. Suddenly, it was gone!!! Just thinking that your home, which you worked hard on and built from scratch and took a lot of your life, was gone in less than a second ! After a while, we left the sands to the Al-Zawaida area because of the heavy shelling. We stayed there for about two weeks, and then the terrorist army asked us to go to Rafah. We actually fled for the fourth time to Rafah and stayed there for two months, some of the most difficult days of our lives, as there was no way or means to live a normal life. 😔😔 After that, because of the invasion of Rafah, we moved to Deir al-Balah. Now, we are in very difficult and oppressive circumstances.

We are asking you with all shame to support and stand by us in these difficult circumstances that everyone knows because we lost our home, our work and any stable source of income. Thank you all.

🔗 🔗 Gofundme link for donations 👇👇👇👇🔗 🔗

Please, we are in dire need of you and your support. If you cannot donate, you can share☹️❤️🥹

Even $5 will make a big difference and save us!

Verified by : @nabulsi

[ashdreams2023]

May I request over messages?

Sure

[ashdreams2023]

ⓘ Tip You can skip part of the day by taking a nap.

[ashdreams2023]

May I add you to my Harry Potter writers list?

Sure go ahead

[ashdreams2023]

Loki would hate modern diets so much, because what the fuck are you on about!?

Loki: why are you not eating dessert?

Reader: oh I can’t have it I already reached my calories for the day

Loki: but it’s your favorite!?

Reader: maybe another time or on my cheat day

Loki: *confused and very displeased*

[ashdreams2023]

Hidden in the Corners

Pairing: H.P x Hufflepuff! Reader

Summary: A quiet, studious Hufflepuff becomes an unexpected refuge for Harry Potter, offering him solace in the shadows—until the night he realizes she might need saving, too.

W/C: 3k

A/N: ACK i love a slow burn. Hehehe

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige

★ request: @ashdreams2023

ϟ taglist ϟ : @littlemadamred

You don’t spend your time chasing after Quidditch stars or whispering gossip in the Great Hall. You’re not one for the spotlight, or even the tempting flicker of it. 

Hogwarts is loud, especially in the Hufflepuff common room where its warmth often means a certain kind of chaos; but you’ve always preferred the quieter corners of the castle. 

Windowsills with a bit of sunlight, empty classrooms filled with dust motes and echoing stillness, nooks in the library no one else bothers with.

You exist in a softer space, gentle, unnoticed, and you were perfectly content with that.

You’ve always done well in school — not flashy, but dependable. Your name never gets called out in classes unless you raise your hand first (which you rarely do). You’re polite to everyone, helpful when asked, but you’re not the type people turn to instinctively. 

You’re… background. Reliable, but not remarkable. And that’s fine.

Then there’s Harry Potter.

His world is a whirlwind; something burning and spinning and impossible to pin down. Even if you weren’t keeping to yourself, you doubt you’d cross paths. 

He’s Gryffindor. He’s always surrounded by Ron and Hermione; like the three of them orbit one another tightly, barely leaving space for anyone else. 

His life seems like a constant surge forward — detentions, Quidditch, curses, danger, and the weight of things no seventeen-year-old should have to carry.

You don’t envy him. You don’t idolize him either. You see the exhaustion in his eyes when he walks into class late. The twitch in his jaw when someone mutters The Chosen One under their breath. The way he hunches in on himself when he thinks no one’s watching.

But you are. Watching, that is. Not in a weird way… you just notice things. You always have. You pick up on how people carry stress in their shoulders, how their handwriting changes when they’re anxious. You notice the pauses in their voices when they’re too tired to finish a sentence.

And Harry Potter, you’ve realized, is almost always too tired to finish a sentence.

Still, your lives don’t touch.

He doesn’t know your name, and why would he? You’ve never been assigned to the same group project, never been paired in class, never even stood next to each other in line for meals. If you’ve passed him in the hallway, you doubt he noticed. You’re part of the blur. A face he’s never needed to remember.

So when it happens,  when the moment comes that tethers you to him in a way neither of you expected, it’s not with a bang or a declaration. It’s quiet. Like everything else in your life.

You find him curled up in the Astronomy Tower. Alone.

You’re not sure what made you go there that night. You just needed space,  a break from the common room, from the endless scribbling of essays and the way people kept laughing way too loudly around you. You had a headache. Maybe that was it. Or maybe something else was pulling you towards him.

Whatever it was, when you push the creaky wooden door open and step into the moonlight, you don’t expect to see Harry Potter sitting against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest, fists clenched into the sleeves of his jumper, face pale and tight like he’s trying very hard not to cry.

You freeze. He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t even acknowledge you.

You could walk away. You probably should. This isn’t your business.

But then, you see his shoulders tremble. Just once.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your voice is very soft when you speak. “Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly. His head tilts slightly toward you, but his gaze stays fixed on some distant point past the railing.

Then he mutters, “Not really.”

And that’s where it starts.

That’s the moment everything changes.

Not with sparks. Not with fireworks.

But with a quiet offer — a quiet presence.

You sit down beside him, and neither of you says anything more.

You don’t know it then, but this will become a pattern. A rhythm. A strange sort of sanctuary. Not a friendship. Not yet. Not really.

But something close.

And Harry… Harry will start to look for you.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

It’s three nights later when you find him again.

You weren’t looking for him, but you weren’t not looking either. Something had tugged at your thoughts all day, a whisper of a memory of that quiet night on the Astronomy Tower. The way he hadn’t spoken much, just sat there like the silence was the only safe thing left in the world.

You hadn’t expected him to return. Harry Potter didn’t seem like someone who repeated himself. But when you creaked open the tower door again,  half out of habit, half out of instinct, you weren’t all that surprised to see him there.

Same spot. Same posture. Same exhaustion sunk into the curve of his back.

He didn’t look up when you walked in.

But his shoulders eased.

That’s how you knew it was okay to sit down again.

This time, he spoke first.

“Ron and I fought.”

You didn’t press for details. You didn’t ask why. You just waited.

After a minute, he added, “I said something I didn’t mean. He said something he did mean.”

You nodded once, slow.

He kept staring out over the ledge, at the navy sky bleeding into black.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

You glanced over at him. He didn’t seem to be talking to you, not really. Just to the air. To himself. Maybe to the stars.

“Do what?” you asked.

“Any of it. Be who they want. Save people. Pretend I’m fine.” His voice cracked like a branch under weight. “I’m tired all the time, and no one ever notices.”

You did… But you didn’t say that.

Instead, you reached into your robe pocket and quietly pulled out a tiny wrapped chocolate. One of the peppermint kind you’d kept on you since third year — comfort sweets, tucked away for emergencies. You held it out hoping he’d be interested.

He looked at it like it was a portkey. Something magical. Something kind.

He didn’t say thank you. Just took it. Unwrapped it. Popped it into his mouth.

The silence that followed was softer this time. Not heavy, like the first night. Just… full. Like something understood had passed between you.

When he finally stood to leave, he looked down at you for the first time.

His eyes were red, but clearer.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You told him.

He nodded. “Right. I’ll remember that.”

You weren’t sure you believed him.

But the next week — when you stumbled into the greenhouse for early study hours, cheeks flushed from running late,  Harry Potter was already there.

And when he saw you, he said your name like it was something he’d practiced.

Like it mattered.

Like maybe, somehow, you mattered.

To him.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

The fifth night, he doesn’t wait for you in the tower. He follows you.

You don’t notice him at first. You’ve grown used to your evening walks—wandering through the hushed corridors after curfew, careful to avoid Filch, letting your thoughts settle like snowflakes. You make your way up the spiraling stairs, same as always, your footsteps featherlight on the stone. And then—

“Hey.”

You startle.

He’s leaning against the wall just outside the Astronomy Tower entrance, arms crossed loosely, as though he’s been standing there a while. Waiting.

“I didn’t know if you’d come tonight,” he says. His voice is soft, hoarse. “But I was hoping you would.”

You blink, heart catching in your throat. “You were… waiting for me?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just cracked open something delicate between you. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

You don’t say anything. You just open the door.

He follows you inside.

It’s a colder night than the last two. The wind whips through the open arches, and the moon hangs lower, fuller. You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders as you sit, curling your knees up beneath you.

Harry sits a little closer this time.

Only a little. But you notice.

“I had a nightmare,” he says after a long silence.

Your head tilts toward him.

He’s not looking at you, still staring out at the dark sky, but his jaw’s tight and his hands are clenched again.

“I’ve been having them a lot lately,” he admits. “Some of them are… memories. Some are worse. Things that haven’t happened yet but feel like they already have.”

You nod, unsure what to say. Words are rarely enough, you’ve learned. Especially for grief. Especially for someone like him.

“I woke up in a sweat and couldn’t breathe,” he continues, voice low and raw. “And Ron was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him again, so I just…came here.”

To you.

The words hang in the air, unspoken but understood.

You shift slightly, your shoulder brushing his.

He flinches, not from discomfort, but like the contact pulled him back to the present.

“I don’t know why I keep talking to you,” he says suddenly, a small breath of a laugh. “You don’t say much. You don’t ask questions. But it helps. Just… sitting here with you. I feel like I can breathe.”

You don’t reply. You just offer him the smallest smile.

He glances down at his hands, then over at you. Really looks this time.

“You always bring peace with you. It’s strange.”

Your chest tightens at that. A different kind of ache.

He shifts beside you, hesitates, then reaches out, slowly, and lets his fingers graze yours, just barely, as your hands rest side by side on the stone floor.

You freeze.

Not because it’s too much. But because it’s new.

That light, tentative pressure of his pinky finger brushing yours, like he’s testing the air between you. Like he doesn’t want to scare you off.

Your breath comes quiet and careful.

And then..he hooks his pinky around yours.

That’s it.

No grand gesture. No hand-holding or pull-you-into-a-hug moment.

Just that small, grounding touch.

“I hope it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I just — needed something to hold onto.”

You don’t pull away.

Your fingers stay linked, light as breath.

The stars wheel above you, and somewhere in the world, there’s a war waiting.

But here, in the tower, in the hush of night, Harry Potter sits beside you, steadying himself on your presence.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

You don’t speak of the tower during the day.

It’s a silent rule. One neither of you ever voiced, but both instinctively understand. Whatever exists between you and Harry in the quiet of the Astronomy Tower doesn’t follow you into the sunlit corridors or crowded Great Hall.

And yet, something’s changed.

The first time it happens, you’re leaving Herbology, soil still clinging to your nails. Your head is bowed slightly, a book clutched to your chest, when you feel it — a flicker of pressure at the edge of your awareness.

You glance up.

Across the courtyard, Harry’s standing with Ron and Hermione. He’s laughing at something Ron says, or at least pretending to, but his eyes are on you.

You look away quickly.

You’re not used to being seen. Not in that way.

Not in broad daylight.

Not by him.

The second time, it’s in the library. You’re buried behind a stack of books, halfway through rewriting your Ancient Runes notes, when you hear a chair scrape softly against the floor. Someone sits a few tables over. You barely look up… until you catch the edge of a familiar voice.

“Do you have any ink, Hermione? I forgot mine.”

You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s hard not to when he’s right there.

And at some point, while Hermione scribbles and Ron yawns beside her, you glance up, and there it is again.

Harry. Looking your way.

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t nod. He just watches you for a second too long.

Long enough that you feel it behind your ribs.

When you leave the library twenty minutes later, your chest is buzzing. Not with nerves, but with something quieter. Stranger.

Confusion.

Because the thing is… he still doesn’t know you.

Not really.

Not your favorite subject (Charms), or the way you always twirl your quill when you’re thinking. Not the fact that you hate pumpkin juice and love thunderstorms. Not how you grew up in a tiny house on the edge of a field, where magic was always quiet, gentle, and practical,  none of the grand, wild stories the rest of the world expects from witches and wizards.

He doesn’t know that you like reading about magical flora more than people, or that you’ve never had a best friend, not really, and that you’ve always preferred it that way.

He doesn’t know your middle name.

Your birthday.

Your laugh.

He knows only the part of you that exists in the dark —  the girl who waits on cold stone floors, who offers chocolate and listens without asking too much.

And maybe that’s all he wants.

But then, one night,  maybe the sixth or seventh,  when the tower is still and Harry is quiet, too quiet, you ask a question. One you’ve been holding back.

“Do you ever wonder why it’s easier for you to talk to someone you barely know?”

His eyes flicker open. He was leaning back, staring at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”

You pick at a thread on your sleeve. “You always come to me when you’re hurting. But you’ve never asked me anything about myself.”

He sits up slowly, blinking.

“I guess… I didn’t want to ruin it,” he says finally. “You never ask anything of me. You don’t expect me to be ‘Harry Potter’ when I’m here.”

You nod, eyes down.

“I like who I am when I’m with you,” he adds, voice softer. “But you’re right. That’s not fair to you.”

There’s a long pause.

Then, his voice again, low and almost shy.

“What’s your favorite spell?”

You blink.

You glance up.

And for the first time since this strange pattern began… he’s trying.

To know you.

Not just use your comfort as a balm.

And somehow, that tiny, awkward question means more than anything.

You smile, barely.

“Orchideous.”

Harry furrows his brow. “The flower one?”

You nod. “It’s simple. Beautiful. And it never hurts anyone.”

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize that answer.

And when he leaves that night, he says your name again. But this time… he says it like it belongs to him.

Like he’s afraid to forget it.

——⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑——

It’s raining the night you don’t show up.

Not just drizzling, but pouring. The kind of storm that drowns the castle in wind and sound. The Astronomy Tower windows blur with water, and the corners leak from long-forgotten cracks in the stone. Harry waits anyway.

At first, he assumes you’re late.

You’re never late.

Then he thinks maybe you fell asleep, or got caught in a hallway talking to someone,  not that you ever stop to talk to anyone unless they need help.

But an hour passes. Then two.

And the ache in his chest grows louder than the rain.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s come to need you, not until the moment you aren’t there.

Not until the silence feels wrong without you in it.

Not until it’s your absence that’s pressing on his ribs, not his pain.

So, for the first time, Harry gets up and goes looking.

He checks the library first — your favorite corner. Empty.

Then the Hufflepuff common room, waiting awkwardly near the portrait, hoping someone will slip in or out and he can sneak a glance. No one comes.

Finally, he finds you.

In a corridor just past the greenhouses, under a crumbling arch of ivy that smells like wet earth and bitter roots. You’re sitting on the stone floor, knees pulled to your chest, cloak soaked through. Your face is buried in your arms.

He stops.

Not because he doesn’t want to approach, but because he doesn’t want to ruin it,  the solitude, the smallness of your sadness. He recognizes it. He’s lived it.

Then you shiver.

And that’s all it takes.

He kneels slowly beside you, careful not to startle you. “Hey.”

You look up, and the sight of your face breaks something in him. Your eyes are glassy, lashes stuck together with rain. But it’s not the storm that made you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Why?” he says, voice hoarse. “You’re allowed to fall apart, too.”

You let out a breath that sounds more like a broken laugh. “You weren’t supposed to see me like this.”

“You’ve seen me like this.”

“That’s different.”

“No,” he says firmly. “It’s not.”

He takes your hand.

Not just a brush this time, not just a pinky linked under moonlight. He wraps his fingers around yours, warm despite the rain, steady despite the storm. Your breath catches.

“I didn’t realize how much you held me together,” he says, eyes searching yours. “Until I felt what it’s like to worry about you.”

You don’t know what to say.

So he speaks for both of you.

“I used to think I came to you because I didn’t want to be seen,” he says, voice low. “But maybe I kept coming back because I wanted you to see me. Just… me. Not the Chosen One. Not the hero. Just a boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing most days.”

You swallow hard, eyes stinging.

He moves closer.

“I don’t know a lot about you,” he admits, “but I want to.”

You blink. Slowly. Carefully.

“Why?”

“Because I feel more like myself when I’m with you,” he says. “And I think… maybe I could help you feel that way, too.”

For the first time, you lean in.

And for the first time, he’s the one offering quiet.

He’s the warmth.

He’s the stillness in the storm.

He holds you, not tightly — not possessively — but like he’s making space. For your pain. For your quiet. For your entire, gentle existence.

And as you press your forehead lightly to his, rain still falling around you, you think maybe the silence was never meant to last forever.

[ashdreams2023]

Ironically I long the most to the future moments when me and my husband are old and I keep calling him old man 😌

"Come on old man, don’t tell me you can’t keep up anymore"

I love it 😔 and he’s all grumpy but goes along with it because he knows I’m just teasing him

[ashdreams2023]

happy birthday, sweet girl!!!🩷🩷🩷

I think you may have sent this to the wrong person? It’s not my birthday sweetheart 😊

[ashdreams2023]

Hii dawling ! <3

it has been forever since I requested something but, imagine being Loki or Thor's kid but just being absolutely obsessed with the Iliad and Odyssey. :3

I just got this and I’m so sorry I will have to decline because I have no idea whatsoever on the topic and I genuinely don’t know if I can make up something for it I’m terribly sorry, perhaps you have another idea I could help you with?🤍