#bl hogwarts

[yuvanart]

In fact, he was originally supposed to be dressed...

[cintsalis]

Severus Snape-Black: 😐😓 It is unsettling to have emotions for Potter; how do I uninstall them?

James Potter: 🥹😍🥰 Just accept them with open arms, my sweet Snivelly.

Severus Snape-Black: 😒 Gross.

[nonglukest]

I started Destiny Seeker tonight before bed.

The amount of the color red in Ai’s room and closet is killing me 😂😂

Also the subtitles..

I’m sure I’ll enjoy it though. I love a good enemies to lovers.

[redeemingvillains]

the black lake - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo is hogwarts' triwizard tournament champion, and he's proven that he can crush the competition. but when the stakes are raised, and you're involved, nothing will get in his way.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this was was so fun to think about! lots of references to goblet of fire! lots of swearing, matty is not a happy camper in this one. enjoy ♡

Obviously this boy would put his name in the Goblet of Fire (all of the boys did) and there would be a lot of feelings about him being chosen as the Hogwarts champion, lots of accusations about him rigging the selection (he probably did). But he'd definitely crush the competition, especially when he had the right motivation...

ˋ°•*⁀➷

It's the morning of the second task, the day crisp and frosty, creating puffs of air as Mattheo huffed in exertion, marching down to the Black Lake surrounded by his friends. Suffice to say, he was pissed. It was fucking frigid outside and he hadn't seen you all morning, the combination enough to set him dangerously on edge.

You'd told him you'd come spend the night with him, and if nothing else you always ate breakfast together, so when you didn't show up last night and you were nowhere to be found this morning he was furious that you'd blown him off. Now he was spending his entire walk from the castle to the lake ruminating over it, piling on every perceived slight over the last few days, including the way he saw you talking to a group of guys from Durmstrang in the Great Hall yesterday, causing him to involuntarily curl his hands into fists at his side.

His friends walked beside him, surrounding him in a sort of semicircle, but moving in complete silence; they knew better than to try to say anything to him when he was in a mood like this. Before long, Pansy came running to meet them, nearly out of breath as she said, exasperated, "I couldn't fucking find her. She's not anywhere in our dormitory, in the library, I don't know where she's gone." Concern and frustration laced her voice as she looked at the group and then up at Mattheo.

This wasn't like you.

You had been Mattheo's #1 supporter throughout the whole tournament, helping him prepare, cheering him on, jumping into his arms the moment he'd defeated his dragon, and generally always glued to his side. In fact, you were always glued to all of their sides, the group of you being nearly inseparable, so having you missing made all of the boys feel shifty and on edge as they looked at one another.

Fear bloomed in Mattheo's chest. And the feeling of fear when it came to you did not sit well with him. He didn't want to feel afraid, to feel vulnerable when it came to you, so he opted to shove the feeling down, keeping instead with anger which was much easier and more natural to him.

"I don't have time for this" he muttered, quickening his pace as they all scrambled to keep up with him.

The biting wind whipped through his dark curls and stung his cheeks as he stood on the platform above the lake, staring into the middle-distance of the dark and choppy waves. Students and staff alike were cheering and shouting their encouragement for their champions, but he was completely zoned out, his mind bouncing back and forth between your lingering absence and the task ahead of him. He only perked up when Dumbledore's loud voice rang out over the crowd.

"Welcome to the second task!" it radiated.

"Last night something was stolen from each of our champions, a treasure of sorts—"

Mattheo's heart plummeted so fast into his stomach that he subconsciously grasped at his chest. A treasure? There wasn't a thing he owned that he valued enough to call a treasure, not a single thing in his life that held that much weight... except you. You were undeniably his treasure. He looked back into the murky water of the Black Lake... it couldn't be... he thought ... surely they wouldn't... as Dumbledore's voice continued.

"—These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake—" Mattheo's stomach lurched with what little breakfast he'd been able to eat as his eyes shot to Pansy's in the crowd in enough time to see her clasp her hand to her mouth as she pieced the situation together.

"—In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough. Except for this. They will have but one hour to do so and one hour only. After that, they'll be on their own. No magic will save them."

Mattheo's feet were moving before Dumbledore said another word, sprinting towards the water because fuck this stupid tournament, and fuck the geezer for thinking he could take you away from him, that he could put you in danger.

"You may begin at the sound of the cannon."

BOOM!

Mattheo heard the blast as his body hit the water, diving headfirst into the waves without bothering to cast a spell, without a care to what he'd find within the foreboding depths.

The cold shocked his system, but his heart was hammering for plenty of other reasons as he pulled his body through the fierce current, his strong arms and legs working against the waves.

For a minute he was surrounded in dark nothingness. He could feel rather than see that he wasn't alone in the water, occasionally sensing something moving on either side of him, but he didn't have time, you didn't have time for him to care. His lungs started to burn and he pressed his wand to his neck, casting a spell frantically so as not to waste another second.

After swimming at an impossible pace for so long he wondered if there even was a bottom to the lake, he heard an ethereal sound, like singing and changed course to swim towards it, which brought him to a large clearing where he could see merpeople swimming around. The few nearest him whipped their heads toward him, surprised at his presence as they turned to face him fully. He dared them, dared any fucking one of them to come near him, welcomed it actually, a chance to take out his rage, but they steered clear, perhaps sensing it would be a losing battle despite the tritons they carried and their razor-sharp teeth.

He swam on, his muscles straining, aching with the exertion of pulling his weight through the thick water at such an unwavering and desperate pace, but the feeling faded, drained from him, as four distinct figures came into view, four bodies, tethered and floating in the water, their hair moving eerily around their faces, their bodies stiff and still, like corpses.

He identified you immediately and he swam harder and harder until he was close enough to touch you. He brushed a hand against your cheek; your skin held a blueish tint and your face was expressionless, void of the smile that you always had for him, that reached your eyes, that lit up your face, the absence of it was enough to make his eyes sting in a way that had nothing to do with the brackish water.

He grasped your stiff form, the resistance of your body against his continuing to mess with his mind as he sent a spell to sever the rope that secured you and tried not to think about how rigid you felt in his arms.

His ability to breath underwater didn't matter for shit, because he was certain he didn't breath the entire way back, climbing harder and harder as he carried your weight with him, desperate to reach the surface, desperate to save you, thinking the entire time how fucking foolish he'd been to spend even one second mad at you today.

Finally, he could see the light of the surface, the grey clouds in the sky reflecting in the waves, and after a final series of strong kicks he broke through the current.

Immediately, he felt you come alive again in his arms, spluttering and coughing as you grasped for him.

"M-Matty!?" you said hysterically, the cold and fear in your voice setting his heart in a vice as your eyes fluttered open and you looked around in confusion at your surroundings. "What happened?! Where—?!"

"—It's okay, you're okay, you're safe" he said, pulling you against him, keeping you both afloat even as you rocked in the waves and he gasped deeply for air.

"C'mere, c'mon" he said, swimming with you in his embrace towards the platform, anxious to get you out of the freezing water.

The crowd had erupted into cheers when you'd breached the surface, and they were announcing that Mattheo was the champion by a long shot, not having been in the water for more than 20 minutes, the other champions still completely unaccounted for. But hearing talk of the competition and seeing everyone's ignorance about the whole situation as they clapped and smiled was pushing him to his limit as he hoisted you up to Pansy who greeted you with a thick towel.

Mattheo pulled himself out of the water, barely taking time to wrap a towel around his shoulders before grabbing three more and pulling them around you. You laughed under the heavy bundle, even as your shivering continued uncontrollably. "I-I'm okay, I-I'm okay" you said, trying to reassure him, even as you noticed that he wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Buncha fucking idiots" you heard him muttering as he rubbed your arms before he stooped down and swept you off your feet bridal style, one hand around your waist, the other holding on to your legs. The crowd cheered again, erupting in a sigh of "awws" at the gesture until he began barreling towards them.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned, "Where are we—?"

"—Anywhere but here" he growled as people began pushing each other to get out of his way.

"Mr. Riddle!" McGonagall chided, chasing after you both as you watched her from over his shoulder, urging him to stop as a couple of other professors followed in pursuit.

He veered towards the raised platform where the headmasters were seated, coming to a brief stop in front of Dumbledore who had stood to his feet.

"You are out of your fucking mind!" Mattheo spat at him.

Several people around you gasped, even Igor Karkaroff had the wherewithal to look surprised, impressed even, before Mattheo walked away, marching right off the platform and back towards the school as the entire crowd watched you go.

You could tell Mattheo was tired, beyond tired, physically, emotionally; you could feel his arms shaking against your weight.

"Matty, I can walk, it's okay" you said quietly, but he wouldn't let you go, wouldn't set you down, wouldn't even respond to you or meet your eyes. So you resigned yourself to resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck which seemed to relax him a bit.

He carried you all the way to his room, making his way to the bathroom where he finally set you down and immediately began running you a hot bath. Wordlessly, he found a towel and a set of his clothes for you to wear, placing them at the edge of the tub before leaving without a word, closing the door gently behind him.

You looked anxiously at the closed door, aware that something was very very wrong, but also acknowledging that he might need a minute, and that you still couldn't feel the tips of your fingers or toes, so you resigned yourself to the hot water.

It felt heavenly, as did washing the muck of the lake off your skin and out of your hair. You reveled in the smell of his soap, like cedar and evergreen, but you were too anxious to sit there any longer than necessary, quickly pulling on his sweatpants and sweatshirt that engulfed your frame as you toweled your hair dry and pushed the door open.

Mattheo was seated at the edge of his bed, still dripping wet, his body shaking noticeably as he stared at the ground. He glanced up when he heard you, visibly relaxing a bit as he took in your warm, rosy cheeks and your soft smile, his mind flashing for only a moment to your unsmiling rigid form floating in the water, trying to reconcile that version of you with the one in front of him.

You approached him slowly, moving to stand between his legs as you took his face in your warm hands, tilting it to look at you. He had a strained, puzzled expression on his face as his eyes drank you in before his hands came to rest on your waist.

"Babe—" you started.

"—I love you" he said.

Your heart somersaulted over the words you'd never heard him say before as you let out a small breath, your hand moving to cover your mouth in shock as your eyes widened.

"I'm-I'm a fucking wreck for you" he continued, laughing humorlessly as he shook his head. "Today... really fucked me up. I thought I'd lost you, I thought..." he paused, getting quiet "...The way you looked down there, alone, miles under the water, surrounded by all sorts of shit" he shook his head harder like he could unlive the memory of it all.

"I should have told you sooner, because I've known for awhile, for a long fucking time, but I've been too scared to say it, too scared that you don't remotely feel the same way, but that doesn't matter anymore, nothing fucking matters other than you hearing me say it, today, every day, I love you, YN." His eyes met yours finally, wide and sincere. "With everything I've got, I love you."

"I love you too!—" you whispered, and the words were barely out of your mouth before he pressed his cold lips to yours, pulling you into him so tightly you let out an involuntary squeak as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and he fell backwards onto his bed, continuing to mumble against your lips "Iloveyou, loveyou, I loveyou", smushing your kisses with his affectionate words until you were laughing with joy, the sound finally reassuring him that you were his, and that you were okay.

♡

@kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girlblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen

[cintsalis]

Severus Snape-Black: *In office grading papers*

[Professor, I like it when I get assigned to sit with Potter, even though I make his life absolutely miserable. Knowing that I'm on his mind makes me perfectly happy. Please don't make Weasley or Granger sit with him. -Draco Malfoy]

😐😒😑

James Potter: *Rests his head on his lap*

What did our Kid get in Potions 🧪 today, my Sweet Snivelly?

Severus Snape-Black: 😒

A Boyfriend.

James Potter: 😨

[adriiannking]

I don’t ship Jegulus, I don’t see or understand how that ship even exists; however as for WolfStar, I can tolerate it— 🥹 like to me, they’re meant to be a relationship that happened…but didn’t work out—but their friendship was stronger than that—and so they stayed friends. I am a pro Jeverus/Snames (only) person. I don’t ship them, they’re cannon to me. ♥️

Can people stop asking me to do Wolfstar content on my SNUPIN videos? ☠

I don't like Wolfstar nor do I care about the ship, but each their own, everyone can like whatever they want;

But I clearly don't like the ship nor care for it, plus you're literally asking this on a video where I ship Remus with someone else, like what??? 😭

It also happened on the PrinceChaser version with people asking for Jegulus, leave me alone 😭😭😭

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic July 24 - prompt 24: Inheritance [word count 951]

Minerva knew that she shouldn't show favouritism for one student over the other but with this student, and this time specifically, it would be very hard. She stil did her best to compose herself when the knock on her office door came.

"Come in."

Sirius Black's gray eyes appeared, his signature smile on his face.

"Hello Professor, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Sirius, do come in," she had stopped calling him 'Mr Black' the second she had seen the pitiful state his parents had sent him back to school that first Christmas after he had failed to get sorted into the House of their choosing according to them.

"Can, uhm... Can Remus come too?"

Once again Minerva did her best to fight a fond smile seeing the two boys' hands interlocked and just nodded. Once they had sat down, she gestured to the goblin holding a leather briefcase and a very dashing top hat in the chair next to them.

"This is Mr Sandor," she said. "Mr Sandor, this is Mr Sirius Black and-"

"No!" Sirius's face had fallen and he was gripping Remus's hand in his. "I won't do it, you hear me? I don't give a fuck if I've come of age, I won't!"

"Sirius!" Minerva stared at him. Cocky of course, but he had never been impolite in front of stangers. "What are you talking about?"

"The blood oath," Sirius said, staring at Mr Sandor. "The blood oath needed to open the Black family vault at Gringotts!"

Minerva folded her hands in her lap not to throw herself in her fireplace all the way to London just to blast Walbuga and Orion Black out of existence. Every time Sirius mentioned something he had been raised with in that family as perfectly normal it turned out to be something dangerous, dark and most of the time abusive. Once again she sent a mental thank you to Effie and Fleamont Potter for having taken the boy in the previous year.

"Mr Sandor isn't from Gringotts, Sirius," she said once she could trust her voice to sound normal again.

"Definitely not," the goblin smiled. "I'm a representative from the Hidden Bank of Cumbersome."

"I've never heard of it," Sirius said.

"That's quite the point, Mr Bl- Sirius," Mr Sandor corrected himself halfway through the name and Minerva appreciated his tact. "Our bank isn't at the forefront of most wizarding banking operations, we have a very selected and very private clientele. Yourself among it."

"But, I never..." Sirius started, confused.

"The vault that became yours at the exact moment you turned seventeen is a hereditary vault, Mr Sirius," Mr Sandor went on, rummaging into his briefcase and taking an ornate wooden box out of it. "I was tasked to bring you all the documents related to the inheritance and of course our best wishes for your coming of age, from the whole staff of the Hidden Bank of Cumbersome."

"An inheritance? " Sirius asked.

"This will explain it, it was left specifically for you," the goblin placed the box in front of Sirius. "Just touch it, I assure you it will require no blood oaths, Mr Sirius."

Hesitantly, Sirius placed his finger on the box, which opened slowly, letting out a small image, almost a ghostly one, of a man with pale eyes and high cheekbones. Minerva swallowed as she recognised Alphard Black, paler and thinner than she remembered him at Hogwarts, evidently not long before his untimely demise.

"Hello, Sirius," the apparition said. "I don't know if you will remember me when you're seventeen, but I'm your uncle Alphard. All my fortune is in this vault, and all of it goes to you so that you will never have to depend on your parents again. Try as they might, they will never be able to get their hands on it. Use it to run away if you haven't already, use it to live the wonderful life you deserve if you already have. Do what I couldn't do, Sirius. And remember I love you."

Minerva saw tears form in Sirius's eyes as Remus hugged him, and she blinked several times while Mr Sandor ended up blowing his nose discreetly.

"And how-" Sirius started after a while. "How much is in the vault?"

"Right away, sir," Mr Sandor nodded and passed some papers to Sirius. "All of this does not include the value of the antiques your uncle was fond of collecting, Mr Sirius."

"It doesn't?"

Even if she hadn't figured it out already, given who Alphard Black had been, Minerva could have guessed from Sirius's expression alone, and Remus's who looked right about to faint, that the money in the vault was enough for a lifetime of very comfortable living, maybe two.

"Of course, we could have them appraised if you'd like to sell them, sir," Mr Sandor went on.

"No, no no, this is well, way more than enough for now," Sirius said quickly. "So only I can access the vault?"

"Our security is the best in the wizarding world, Mr Sirius, not even someone looking like you and bearing your last name could access it without your permission."

"Good," Sirius nodded. "What if I wanted to add a name that could access?"

Mr Sandor looked at the two boys' interlocked hands.

"We can of course add a life partner to the vault, Mr Sirius, but I'm afraid that given our security measures you'd have to be married to them before we can proceed."

"That can be arranged once we're finished with school. What do you say, Moony?"

Minerva smiled as she saw Remus realise what Sirius had just asked and turn positively crimson. Oh, her boys would be fine.

[storkmuffin]

Essays about Ateez (a masterlist- ongoing)

because no parasocial kpop obsession is complete unless you throw thousands of words at it. ) (Updated 25.2.17)

Seonghwa: I went off about Seonghwa & Queerness to start. Which led to follow up 1. And another follow up question this one about Jongho (mentioned in the first post). An ask about the general perception of Hwa. The magic of how he speaks. How he is out and yet not. How he gentle parents stalkers. Eventually I wrote a giant thesis about Seonghwa's Idol Persona. I manifested the finger suckage. Fingers in his mouth.

Is Matz 'real'? part 1. Part 2. The Lego Liveblog (Lego Queer Kink Dungeon)

Wooyoung: 입덕요정 Idol vs Real Manly man. Manly man part 2. Manly man part 3. Manly man part 4. Manly man part 5. His 형아미 Manly man debate continues. Etymology of 영부인 fandom name. Strong candidate for bias. Analysis of his dancing. His tattoos. His post Ateez career.

Side discussion about Minsung (Stray Kids) Brief Han Mention in context of Babygirling.

Short discussion on Ateez lyrics being advanced Korean,

Mingi. The Hippo Live. Mingi's Sound and Dance. His When Aliens Attack Live. His Don't Oppa Me Live. Liveblog of Mingi's song reveal live for untitled. Follow up to live blog. Is he ND. Mingi talking about Yunho's role in his life. Mingi the old testament prophet.

Yunho: his alleged 병크. follow up to the 병크. Yunho's beauty & appeal part 1. Catholic Hottie. The Magic of Yungi (Yunho Diction Focus)

Hong Joong: Leadership style.

San: In context of Woosan Tattoo. The Magic of San Ep 1. The Magic of San Ep 2: Men Crying, and the Gyeongsangdo Accent.

Kpop Dancing. As a ballet fan. Wooyoung focus. Hongjoong and Seonghwa as dancers. The older greats.

Kpop Idoldom: To be pitied or no? First discussion (failed) on kpop values. Do I think Idols fuck around? Aegyo 애교 and its discontents. Pity for the Hardworking kpop Trainee (or not) The Inevitability of Shipping & Boy Idols all Grown Up

How I stopped fearing being identified with Kpop fandom and became a fan. Saseng discourse. Authenticity and kpop. Comparison to soccer hooliganism

I started buying stuff. The first CDs (The Golden Hour Part 2). The first Set of Merch Unboxing.

Ateez as a known unknown band. My first impressions of Ateez. The effect each member has on me (unhinged post). Analysis of intragroup relationships. Leader and Maknae Relationships in general. Sorting the members into Hogwarts. Tour 2025 Flail. Unhinged thoughts about making members fight etc. Each Friend Group Has... Ateez on Korean TV?

Fan Service/ Queerness: A short discussion about 'fanservice' type queerness in kpop. More on 'seeming' gay. Speculation (or not) about individual members' queerness. Queerness in the arts & legal research. 7 ways to view BL fanservice.

Kpop Industry: KQ's Status or lack thereof. Boys vs Girls. Hybe v Min Hee Jin controversy. BTS As the Key Turning Point of Korean Pop Culture History. My thoughts on Virtual/AI Idols. Who are the 경상도 Idol?. Shinee Fandom Story.

Ateez & Neurodivergence. Discussion 1. Focused on Mingi.

Towards the Light: Will to Power Tour 2024-25: I got tickets to the Seoul Finale! It didn't sell out immediately in Seoul. Responsible Ticket Delivery.

Writings by other fans: Eye witness account from Amsterdam! Eye witness account from Zurich! Concert Experience also from Amsterdam. San is Born To Dance!

I recommended some books and films. Music I love. More books

[cintsalis]

They’re so cute! I love it! 🥰 my heart! ♥️

Hi, I've never drawn any ship art before so its my first, so for the lovely @assonancewriter , here's your James and Severus kissing )))

I used a reference for this one instead of ny usual draw on paper and redraw on digital,,, I have another sketch for jeverus which isnt so intimate, upcoming??

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 4]

On the day of his birthday, Tim is very rudely awoken by something hitting his face. Or, multiple somethings, actually.

It doesn't hurt - even though the somethings are quite hard and full of edges, and some of them heavy, they were very gently dropped on him from only a few inches above. More like placed if he is being honest.

Tim groans and raises his head up from the pillow, blinking his sleep away and coming almost face to face with Minky's large, wet-looking and eager eyes.

"Happy Birthday gifts for Young Master," the house elf tells him with the deep satisfaction of a job well done and disappears with a loud crack. Tim drops his head back down, burying his face in the pillow. She does that every year, so he is not exactly surprised by this kind of present delivery. But it's still a little annoying.

It takes him a few minutes to come to the conclusion that he won't be able to fall back asleep no matter how hard he tries. Which also doesn't surprise him - who in their right mind would be able to sleep while surrounded by birthday presents? - but it's kind of a tradition at this point. Just like Minky buries him in his gifts every year on his birthday, he is trying to get a few more minutes of sleep every time after it.

With a huff, Tim sits up on his bed and throws the blanket off him, looking around. And there comes the first surprise of this morning; there are more boxes in his bed than he expected.

Usually, it's only three or four: Mother's and Father's, that come either together, as one gift, or as two separate ones, the obligatory gift from Malfoy family because they like to make sure they are paying attention to absolutely everyone, even if they have little personal interest in the Heir of Drake family, and Diggorys', who send him something unbearably expensive every time because Mr. Diggory is friends with Father and likes showing off that he is rich.

This year, there are six gifts. Well, of course there are, like, a couple dozen birthday cards as well, from everyone who bothers remembering the birth date of the Drake's Heir, but Minky never brings those, and Tim is not particularly interested in them anyway. They are for Mother to sort through and decide what to do with them.

But back to the topic. Six gifts.

For the first time since Tim was around four - so, before he realized that none of those presents were for him personally, not really - he feels excited.

He sorts through the boxes, setting the recognizable emerald green one with a white bow (Malfoys) and the yellow with a red ribbon (Diggorys) aside. He doesn't care for those, he can open them later.

Which leaves him with a white, neatly wrapped in silk package that has to be from his parents, a blue rectangular box with yellow patterns on it, a small box in pinks and purples, and a rather large, narrow cardboard thing that isn't wrapped at all and actually looks like it's made from several smaller boxes with the use of sticking charms.

The last one is the most curious, so Tim leaves it for later and starts with the white package from his parents. There's no card - not like they need to add it since they are, well, his parents - and it's not exactly the most exciting present either: a 'Guide to Your First Potion' and an empty journal in a matching cover with a self-inking quill. Tim has no interest in potions; he likes reading about charms and enchantments way more, but the underlying message is clear. He sets both the book and the journal aside on the table by his bed and runs his hands through the rest of the gifts.

He decides to go with the blue one next, an impatient feeling tugging at his stomach. It turns out to be a chess set, with the pieces made of some kind of semi-translucent, crystalline stone, but what intrigues him even more is an additional, poorly wrapped purple lump with a crooked bow inside the box. As soon as he opens that, half-a-dozen chocolate frogs leap out of it, hopping away and all over Tim's bed.

He blinks in surprise, but upon closer inspection, there's a card on the bottom of the purple package. Make sure to bite their legs off, it advises in a jumpy handwriting, and, below that, Happy Birthday! - Steph.

Tim can't help but laugh. He doesn't bother going after the runaway candy; if Minky was cheeky enough to wake him up by throwing presents all over him, he's sure she'll be delighted to go on a frog hunt later.

Instead, he goes for the next box, the pinkish-purple one. This one is signed To: Timothy Drake, From: Samantha Manson in a curly handwriting on top, but despite knowing the sender, Tim has no idea what to expect.

Inside, he finds a shiny, silvery thing with about a dozen buttons and what looks like a piece of telescope on one side of it. He frowns, carefully setting the thing aside on the bed and looking inside the box again. Sure enough, there is a note, and it's about ten times longer than Steph's.

It's called a camera, the note says with no preamble, and Tim can very vividly hear Sam's condescending voice in his ears, You use it to take pictures. Then, there's a whole list of instructions on how to use it, which Tim is reluctantly grateful for. Thanks, he knows what a camera is, he's seen them before. It's just that they were always big and kind of bulky, and he hadn't known they could be so compact.

But it's a strangely thoughtful gift, now that Tim thinks about it. He and Sam still didn't talk much when Mrs. Manson brought her over; they just somehow wordlessly came to a mutual agreement of never bothering each other and spent the time reading their respective books while sitting in the opposite corners of a room. But in the few instances when they did talk, Tim remembers saying he wished he could draw. Just so he could keep things he liked seeing in physical, tangible form, and not only in his memory.

He should probably find out when Sam's birthday is, and send her something nice in return. He has no idea what that is going to be yet, but he has to try.

Carefully setting the camera back in the box - he is not sure how delicate he should be with it but better safe than sorry - Tim looks to the only present left. He tried not to think about it lest he ends up getting his hopes up and being thoroughly disappointed later, but, well.

There's only a few things he can imagine needing a package of this shape and size, long, narrow and thin.

He licks his lips, swallows and reaches for the cardboard monstrosity, his fingers trembling slightly as he rips the packaging off.

He is very much not disappointed, because it ends up being exactly what he suspected it was.

A broom.

It's not a new broom, Tim can feel the scratches on the handle when he runs his fingers over it. And, realistically, he should probably be at least a little put off by having a second-handed gift given to him, but he can't bring himself to.

Because it's not a kiddie broom. It's an actual, real broom, a Cleansweep that's a bit too old but is still evidently well cared for. With no restrictions about speed of height or anything.

Tim takes the rest of the cardboard off of his new treasured possession, running his hands over it again, just to make sure it's not an illusion. It takes him a few minutes to come back to reality and notice a piece of paper that was also inside the poor excuse of a box. Tim thinks he knows who sent it either way, but he still picks it up, unable to get the happy grin off his face.

So next time you can join us, the slightly different sized, wide letters say, Happy Birthday, Tim! And, below that, a completely different, stern, and pointy handwriting adds, Please, make sure you have an adult supervising your first flight. There are disillusionment charms applied to this broom, as well as a notice-me-not charm, so you don't have to worry about any unwanted attention. We hope you have a very nice birthday! - Best wishes, Fenton family.

Tim thinks he is going to cry because of how happy he is.

...Although, he probably won't be able to follow that advice about adult supervision. It's not like his parents are ever home long enough to watch over him. But, on the other hand, Minky has been a Drake's elf for a few generations now, hasn't she? She's gotta be old enough to count.

He can't wait to try it out.

—☆—☆—☆—

Vague visual vibes for Tim's room and the library at Drake manor:

As well as the drawings (I swear I spent more effort on editing that first one than I did on actually writing the piece)

[Picrew] [Pic of the broom found through Pinterest, I couldn't find the artist]

—☆—☆—☆—

Other notes on random things:

Part 1 of this AU was set in late spring, part 2 was happening in early summer, and part 3 took place on Christmas Eve, what with the 'Winter Ball' and all. Which means we are now more than a year into this story and Tim just turned 9 years old (his birthday is in July, so he was still 7 y.o. in part 2 but already 8 y.o. in part 3). Danny's birthday is October 31st, by the way, so technically Tim is older than him by a few months.

There's an running joke in the Brown family that they've clearly named the wrong child Lavender since Steph is absolutely in love with the color purple in all shades and hues.

One could argue that a camera is bordering on a muggle-related gift, which should probably be considered sketchy in pure-blood community, but a) Mansons don't give a shit, b) Tim doesn't give a shit either (granted, it's because he doesn't know he should give a shit), c) canonically, Harry had a whole photo-album with pictures of his parents and their friends, so I'm under the impression that it's an acceptable level of muggle technology incorporated into wizarding world.

The gift from Diggorys was a pair of sapphire cufflinks that Tim literally has nowhere to wear, and the gift from Malfoys was a book on pureblood customs because Lucius likes making vague hints about Malfoys being better than all those other, lesser families.

Also, trust me, that poll really was relevant, I'll get to that in the next part, where we'll be meeting the Waynes, finally.

[<- part 3 | part 5 ->]

[thimbleandakiss]

Midnight Snack

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary: You woke your boyfriend up to come to the kitchens with you because you're hungry. No other reason. Obviously.

Content: mentions of nightmares, fluff, house elves, hogwarts kitchens

Cross posted to Ao3

Playlist used to write

“Ced!”

You shake his shoulder to no avail. Bloody hell, the man can sleep. 

“Ced!” You repeat in a whisper-shout, shaking his shoulder once more, and this time you’re rewarded with a rousing groan. 

You grin broadly down at him as he rolls in our direction, light brown hair thoroughly mussed with sleep, rubbing his eyes and squinting at you in the dim light “Sweetheart, what-”

You swiftly place a finger to his lips, hushing him. “Shh! We don’t want to wake your dormmates, now, do we?”

His brow furrows, frowning slightly in a way that tells you he’s actually trying not to mirror your smile. “Let’s start with what you’re doing in my dorm in the first place, hm?”

“I’m hungry.” Your smile never wavers. 

“You’re joking.”

“Nope!” 

“You woke me up to escort you to the kitchens two meters from the common room entrance for a midnight snack?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Cedric sighs heavily, slinging an arm briefly over his eyes. “You’re very lucky I like you. Alright.”

“Aw, don’t be silly,” you coo teasingly, handing him his jumper from where it’s slung over the bedpost, “you love me.”

“I do, indeed,” He hums, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before pulling the jumper over his head. 

It’s a matter of a few moments before you’re quietly padding down the steps to the common room, fingers interlaced, Cedric still yawning. It hadn’t taken much to convince him, because he knew the veiled reason for your sudden fixation with the kitchens. 

It was a nightmare. Another one. He can see it in the way your eyes didn’t crinkle the right way, in the dark circles under your eyes. And who is he to deny his girlfriend anything?

When Cedric covers another yawn with his hand, a twinge of guilt for dragging him out of bed flickers through your chest. 

“You could have told me no,” you murmur, pushing open the common room door. 

“Nonsense, darling,” he mumbles in reply, giving you a sleepy smile, pieces of his unkempt hair falling across his forehead. The sight has you smiling again. 

He squeezes your hand, holding open the portrait of fruits for you like the gentleman he is. 

Most of the house elves are asleep, but a good number are still up, preparing breakfast for the students the next morning, cleaning, or stoking the fires. Several heads snap up, owlish eyes blinking at the two of you as you step into the kitchen. 

As usual, the elves are more than happy to feed us, pulling up stools by one of the roaring fireplaces, but there’s… a slight confusion to their actions. Two in the morning certainly isn’t when they expect to have random visitors. 

“I swear, the house elves are judging us,” you murmur, a warm mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a small fruit tart in the other. 

“Let them judge,” Cedric replies, biting into his own tart, “My darling wanted a midnight snack, and so a midnight snack she will get.”

You grin at him, giggling softly, and taking a bite of your tart, some crumbs and filling lingering on the corner of your mouth. He leans forward, his arm coming up to the side of your face, his palm against your cheek and the pad of his thumb brushing the mess away. 

“Is it something you want to talk about?” He asked, his brows pinched slightly in concern. 

He knows he’s guessed right by the way your gaze flickers, then drops. “Not particularly, no. I’d rather try and forget it.”

Cedric nods, brushing your lips with his thumb again in a gesture that no longer has anything to do with the tart crumbs. “That’s alright, sweetheart. As long as you know I’m here if you need me.”

You sigh appreciatively, leaning your head into his hand briefly before allowing him to withdraw it. 

“Um, Mister… Miss…” The squeaky voice catches you both off guard, and you look down to see a rather nervous-looking house elf blinking up at you. “If you’re… quite done, we feel it important to remind you that a good night’s rest is imperative for a productive day tomorrow.”

You and Cedric look up, make eye contact and snort, nodding to the little elf at the same time, eyes glimmering with mirth. 

“Told you they were judging us.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think of the parallels between Peter and Ginny, of being the overlooked one in the friend group? Do you think Ginny could've become a traitor at any point? What would happen if she did?

Thoughts on Peter and why he became a traitor.

It's Not a Parallel

Sorry, anon, the thing is, Ginny is never a part of the gang.

Peter was very clearly one of the four friends and is treated as such by every single character we see talk about that group. Now, McGonagall notes that he was clearly the friend no one liked, that she thought he was just a hanger on that James and Sirius tolerated because they felt bad for him in school, however he was clearly a part of the Marauders.

His name was on the map, he got a nickname, he was in the Order with them, he was a part of the group.

Ginny's a part of what I might call... the B-Team, some call it the Silver Trio. The gang is Ron, Harry, and Hermione. That's it, they don't have room for anyone else, if they're doing anything then that is the first and primary pick of who gets to be involved. They're the ones who are best friends, who hang out together all the time, and Harry has 0 other friends.

Such that in sixth year, when he tries talking to Ginny in school when they first get there, he realizes it's weird and awkward because... oh right, Ginny's not a part of the group and actually has other friends and Harry never hangs out with her, shit this is weird :/

Ron and Hermione are the ones Harry tells everything, they're the ones he turns to for advice, and they're the ones he agrees to take Horcrux hunting.

Where Ginny gets involved is she gets to be girlfriend... for two weeks after which Harry realizes that maybe it's not such a good idea to have a girlfriend. Then she gets told nothing and gets to be sent back to Hogwarts.

Her other moment of participation is that, being one of the most loyal members of the DA, she manages to get involved with the Department of Mysteries fiasco... and that's about it.

Neville, Luna, and Ginny are the B-team, Harry will happily rely on them when he Ron and Hermione need extra help for whatever reason, or else Harry will be proud and glad to be their friend when he finds out they've been fighting the good fight while he's doing something else, but they're not in the gang.

Poor Neville's been trying to get into the gang for years, he ain't in the gang, he'll never be in the gang.

Luna paints a mural of how much she loves her friends and Harry looks at it and thinks "... I didn't think we were that close, this is awkward".

The gang is Ron, Harry, and Hermione, and that's it.

And Ginny is well aware of this, as are Neville and Luna.

Would Ginny Turn Traitor?

No.

She knows she's not a part of the friend group, at the end of the series she isn't even Harry's girlfriend anymore, and before sixth year she had no hope of him being interested at all.

And being bitter over being the friend no one liked isn't the reason Peter turned, at least, not all of it. I think a lot of his motivation was terror and certainty the Dark Lord would win, and that if he was caught hanging out with the Order without explicitly switching sides, then he was fucked.

Ginny, meanwhile, is not the type to sell her grandmother for a bar of soap like Peter, and turning traitor would mean selling out her entire family, all her friends, and Harry Potter. It's something she would never consider, let alone do, she would die a thousand times in horrible battle before she did that.

As shown by her trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office and then fleeing to the Room of Requirement.

She considers Percy to be a hopeless sellout for having sided with the Ministry, not even Voldemort.

What Would Happen if She Did

They tell themselves she must be under the imperius, because why the hell else would Ginny become a Death Eater.

Harry, too, is convinced, doubly so because Voldemort must have figured out Ginny was his girlfriend/the Weasleys are close to him, and thus is striking a blow to the Weasleys by stealing Ginny and making her do horrible things to her.

Harry's convinced that Stan Shunpike is under the imperius, that he can't possibly be a Death Eater, he'll never accept that Ginny is one.

(And in this case, he's probably right, because I just don't see Ginny doing this.)

[jamilelucato]

possibility - fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x slytherin!reader

(it can be read as a one-shot) (part 02 here!)

summary: Amidst the boredom, an unexpected connection sparks between (Y/N) and the charismatic mischief-maker, Fred Weasley.

note: They are in their last year at Hogwarts, so, for purposes, they are 18; besides, the whole canon of the book (it would've been Order of the Phoenix) is mostly nonexistent here.

the reader: can be interpreted as someone with ADHD; she loves literature and she has no friends.

words: 7580

Enjoy!

The lesson trudged on, dripping with tedium.

In truth, (y/n) quite liked Professor Flitwick. She had, in fact, eagerly accepted his invitation to become his assistant whenever the First Years graced his class. Being an assistant delighted her to no end. Yet, being a student, well, that was a different cauldron of bubbling potion altogether.

Today, Flitwick's lecture on Spellcasting and its perils was dragging on and on. As a sixth-year student, the curriculum seemed more intent on delving into existing knowledge than offering exciting novelties. While these topics might hold allure for a future Auror or the like, they were a one-way ticket to Boredomville for her.

Ever since (y/n) had decided upon her career path – a decision that seemed to have been brewed in the deepest recesses of her being – most of her classes had metamorphosed into a soporific ordeal. Hogwarts wasn't particularly renowned for its prowess in teaching language and literature, but that was precisely where her ambitions lay. A writer, a wordsmith, perhaps even an editor or a high school pedagogue. Anything that would let her commune with the magic of words, not the sort that burst from wands.

Now, she wasn't a woeful spell caster by any means. Professor Flitwick wouldn't have sought her assistance if she weren't a smart witch. But, her heart preferred the dance of ink on parchment over the intricacies of wand-waving, often rendering her classroom hours relatively inconsequential.

Seeking refuge from this stifling monotony, (y/n) allowed her gaze to wander. And in this sea of faces, her eyes collided with Fred Weasley – the school's most notorious ginger-haired mischief-maker. He was already watching her, a mask of effortless nonchalance draped over his face. He raised his brows at her, noticing she was staring back, and he did not look away. And so, they locked eyes, neither relinquishing the connection. It was not a duel of gazes; it was more like a shared secret, a silent agreement over how tedious the class was.

A minute passed in this silent communion until Fred graced her with a faint smile. The spell was broken, and her attention returned to her empty parchment. A quiet sigh fluttered like a long-forgotten page being turned, but it vanished into the air, unheard by all but her.

With pen in hand, she felt an almost magical compulsion to transcribe Flitwick's words onto her parchment. His voice, though droning before, now seemed less boring. 

“To its nature, we shall survive it, but the opponent targetted... not so much,” the professor intoned, the words finally finding their mark within her consciousness. Cruel nature, indeed. “Well,” she mused, her back moulding into her chair as her quill danced across the parchment, “Every spell I remember does possess a hint of danger.”

At long last, her notes held substance, and her enthusiasm, while subdued, had been rekindled. Her gaze again drifted sideways to where Fred Weasley was, only to find he had shifted his focus – to his twin, George.  

They sat side by side, mirror images of naughtiness. (y/n) sometimes forgot that they were identical twins because she was so used to having them around that they started to look apart. George's height had a mere smidgen of variance, while Fred's nose was a tad more prominent. Freckles played a symphony across their faces, arranging themselves differently – Fred’s were more concentrated around his forehead. Yet, at that moment, as (y/n) blinked through her confusion, she wondered if she'd mixed up their features. Had she glimpsed George's grin instead?

But then, as if choreographed by fate, Fred resumed his original posture and caught her looking. His lips curled into an unmistakable smirk. “It's certainly Fred, then,” she thought, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, unwanted.  She redirected her attention back to the good Professor Flitwick and his lesson, and weirdly enough, after all that gazing, she had regained her focus and was more ready to be a satisfactory student.

Amidst her studies, (y/n) was ensconced within the library's embrace.

This day bestowed upon the library an uncommon hush, a tranquillity that seemed to defy the norm. The librarian always managed to get the kids quiet, but she couldn't stop them from coming all at once when frenzied by the looming spectre of approaching exams.

However, an anomaly unfolded on that Friday afternoon, bestowing upon (y/n) the most unexpected gift – the library, in all its boundless expanse, was hers to claim. A rarity that, peculiarly, she found herself not enjoying. Amidst the solitude, her focus waned like a candle in a draft, flickering and unstable. Concentration eluded her, much like the fleeting caress of a dream upon waking. Reading, that intimate act of solitary exploration, seemed to have metamorphosed into a daunting endeavour. It was one thing to lose oneself in tales of princesses or the adventures of chiselled, sun-kissed heroes, but an entirely different ordeal to grapple with the intricate world of potion brewing.

For (y/n), the allure of fantasy books or any literary work was nothing short of enchanting, capable of whisking her away on wings of imagination. These volumes, she devoured with unbridled speed. Yet, a profound disinterest surged within her when it came to the theoretical tomes packed with knowledge mirroring the lectures she endured. If she were to be entirely frank, she might even admit a smidgen of disdain for these volumes.

So she would never take them to the dorms with her — she would much rather read them in the library, filled with other students. The presence of others functioned as a gentle but firm tether, binding her to the task at hand – reading, absorbing, and taking notes. The collective energy of focused minds bolstered her resolve.

Alas, a rather desolate air hung over the library's expanse on this day.

Thrice (y/n) had shifted her position, seeking companionship in proximity, only for her hopes to be dashed within thirty minutes. A sigh, tinged with resignation, escaped her lips, and in that crestfallen moment, a shock of crimson manifested in her field of vision. A pair of vibrant red-headed twins strode in. Nestled at the tables near the corridor's entrance, she watched them meander, their steps unhurried, eyes wandering. “Searching," her inner voice concluded. Certainly, the twins held a more potent allure than the secrets of cauldron cleaning or its ilk, a fact her current book seemed intent on imparting.

Though (y/n) watched from her vantage point, removed yet intrigued, the twins' presence would've caught anyone's attention had there been any other student around. As their gaze swept the expanse, (y/n)'s musings dipped into the realm of speculation, imagining the myriad thoughts dancing behind those crimson veils.

In a place where solitude was typically her archenemy, she now sat pondering the enigma of the Weasley twins, the allure of their presence momentarily overshadowing the dusty tomes that lay before her.

Fred and George stood at a distance, too far for (y/n) to gain a comprehensive view. Instead, they ambulated the space with a purpose that eluded onlookers – a relentless quest for something unbeknownst to her. As they wandered, their forms flickered in and out of her view, now one visible, then none, then both, and once more only one boy.

Fixated on the one nearer her, she strained her vision to discern. Could it be Fred? A question played a merry dance in her mind, teasing but refusing to commit to a definitive answer. His profile was turned towards the shelves, a curtain of red hair obscuring details. Besides, distinguishing the twins remained a daunting task without a survey of their noses.

Abruptly, a voice infiltrated her thoughts, causing her to startle in her seat, “You know we saw you, right?”

She swivelled around, only to be met by the missing twin positioned just behind her. Leaning over her chair's backrest, he inclined his head inquisitively, a solitary auburn eyebrow arching with playful curiosity. Witnessing her wide-eyed astonishment, the Weasley released a soft, subdued chuckle, a mischievous symphony woven into the sound. “If you want my brother's number, you can just ask,” he added.

So the one talking to her was Fred. She quickly glanced at his nose bridge, trying to see the intricated details left by a Quidditch match gone wrong, yet his voice functioned as the telltale sign. He audacity to issue such a provocative remark to a girl with whom they held only the most tenuous of connections – that could only be Fred's doing. Moreover, his tone carried a specific timbre distinct from George's. It was, for lack of a better word, smoother to her auditory senses. Not that George's voice was anything less than agreeable, but his was a quieter, more reserved resonance. She mused that her lack of familiarity with George's vocal cadence stemmed from his status as the quieter half of the duo, while Fred's unending stream of chatter had made his vocal imprint indelible in her ears.

A manufactured laugh escaped her lips, a tinkling facade, "Haha, Weasley. I don't want no one's number."

Fred inclined his head, a bemused glint in his eyes as if coaxing her to reveal more.

Nestled more comfortably in her chair, she raised her chin a fraction, a silent assertion that she was unreservedly facing the boy. This small shift seemed to foster a sense of openness between them.

"Studying is boring, so you guys looked like a distraction," she declared with a nonchalant shrug.

His voice dripped with theatrical incredulity, “We? A distraction?” Fred's lips curled into a playful smile, his head tilting as he leaned slightly away. He stood tall, towering over most, a fact he seemingly embraced with ease. Though his height wasn't sufficient to overshadow Ron (a surprise, really), it cast a considerable shadow over (y/n), particularly in her seated state. The disparity in stature unfolded in a tableau that her neck found almost physically taxing to endure.

With the book held closer to her chest, (y/n) drew a deep breath, her response tinged with a touch of exasperation, “Honestly, anything is a preferable pursuit than deciphering 'how to brew... a potion.'” Her fingers clutched the book, the page title a weighty secret she held close, refusing to vocalise it aloud.

An unexpected shift occurred as Fred commandeered the neighbouring chair, situating it with a proximity that nudged their personal space. “And weirdly enough," he said. Lowering himself into the seat, he offered a sly grin, his gaze steady upon her, “You always get good grades at Snape's classes.” A movement almost imperceptible – a twitch of the head, a hint of satisfaction – played upon his features.

(y/n) registered the proximity with an awareness that tickled her senses. The book, her veiled treasure, lay nestled in her grasp, poised for closure to deter prying eyes.

She shrugged, expecting him to forget what she held close, “I'm Slytherin, after all.”

“Ah,” Fred snapped his tongue in the roof of his mouth, a sound almost as if he had drunk something and was now satisfied. 

Shifting her gaze quickly at George, she hoped he would come to her rescue and take his twin away.

“Not so fast,” Fred interjected, his large hand sweeping down to rest atop the book's cover. “What secrets are you hiding there?”

Her gaze flitted from his eyes to his hand, a growing wariness churning within her. Her fingers tensed around the book, futilely attempting to shield its contents. But deftly, the book was relinquished from her hold and into his.

His melodious voice breathed life into the words etched on the page, “Let's unravel this mystery... 'How to Brew a Love Potion,'” he read aloud, his playful and teasing tone. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as they danced up to meet hers. “Wow, (y/n), I'd never take you for one who needed a love potion.”

To match his wit, (y/n) maintained her playful gaze, a smirk curving her lips as her retort unfurled, “Oh, I don't know, Fred. Perhaps that's my secret to acing Snape's classes.”

Not even the weight of dark humour could ruffle Fred Weasley's composure. His smirk swelled, infused with a brew of mischief that danced in his eyes. “If that's the case, you're terrible at it. I distinctly recall a certain incident involving Snape's homework, and if memory serves, it nearly rendered you floundering.”

She averted her gaze, her attention shifting to the captured book still cradled within his hands, the prospect of regaining it receding into the distance.

“Thanks for the recall, top-tier student,” she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, are you willing to tell me your secrets? What are you doing here, in the library?”

Fred's laughter danced like a secret melody, an intimate note that lingered in the air, his eyes shimmering with a clandestine glimmer. “What's life without a little mystery?” he joked, his voice a velvety caress.

She mirrored his stance, a symmetrical lean that brought them closer, the gap between their faces now an invitation. Their proximity wove a delicate tapestry between their banter and a realm of deeper connection. “Is that so?” she inquired, her words drawn out in a languid purr, the air heavy with a mingling of intrigue and allure.

He matched her pace without the need to ask. The dance of their words had woven a tapestry of amusement, their shared enjoyment eclipsing the pursuit of concrete answers. After all, Fred barely had learned a secret. He was smart enough to know (y/n)'s book had been opened on a random page.

“If I tell you why I'm here,” he mused; his gaze, which had been steadfastly locked onto her eyes, dared trace a path to her lips, “what will you give me in return?”

(y/n) thought herself very wicked when her answer came quickly, “A love potion?” she playfully suggested.

His smile faltered, his breathing taking on a deeper rhythm, a transformation she couldn't help but notice.

“I don't need that,” he purred, voice dipping lower, “however, you...”

An eye-roll framed her response, though she didn't retreat from his proximity.

“Weasley...” her voice began, her tone laden with a mix of exasperation and uncertainty, an attempt to convey a sentiment she was grappling to articulate.

“Fred,” he interjected, the word a soft murmur, his eyes holding hers earnestly. Noticing her bemusement, he continued with a gentle lilt, “Call me Fred.”

She processed his words, pondering the significance of calling him by his name instead of his surname – a departure from the collective label that often accompanied the Weasley clan around Hogwarts.

A nervous throat clearing preceded her tentative utterance, “Fred." She tested the name as if savouring the syllables as if she did not know it before.

Flirting was an uncharted territory for (y/n), a realm she now tiptoed into, fueled by trepidation and exhilaration.

“Lucian Flewchief's book.”

The words hung suspended, (y/n)'s brow furrowing as she sought to decipher their meaning. Was that Fred’s way of flirting back? Suggesting a book? (y/n) was puzzled. That was a new way of flirting she never knew of, but she hoped the book was some young adult fae fantasy.

Fred's perception of her confusion prompted him to lean back slightly, dissipating the cosy bubble they'd woven. He clarified, “That's our objective here – locating Lucian Flewchief's book."

Her understanding unfurled with an "oh" of realisation, the pieces clicking into place.

“We're also the reason behind the library's current solitude,” he continued, an impish glint in his eyes. “George and I orchestrated a bit of a distraction to ensure we could slip away without drawing any undue attention, Godric forbid, with a book in tow!”

So that explained why she was the only one lingering at the library. Though it made sense, it stirred a tinge of melancholy within her.

Curiosity nudged her to question further, her tone now coloured with intrigue. “Who is this guy? Flewchief? And why the necessity for secrecy around his book?” Her queries were genuine and earnest, though sadness crept into her voice as their playful exchange segued into a more sober dialogue.

Fred swayed his head before replying, “He's a master at pranks.”

An eyebrow arched in response, (y/n)'s curiosity unabated. While she may not have been an expert in the art of pranking, one would expect to have heard of such a renowned figure, right?

Observing her perplexity, Fred inhaled deeply before disclosing, his voice lowered almost to a whisper, “He's a muggle author.”

Recognition flashed across (y/n)'s face, though she remained silent. Yet, subtle shifts in her posture – a subtle sag of her shoulders, a slight tightening of her lips – betrayed a sentiment that did not escape Fred's notice. He understood the Slytherin disposition all too well; prejudices were not uncommon.

She unravelled a piece of herself with an unexpected candour, her words confounding Fred's expectations. Instead of disparaging comments or dismissing glances, she offered something else entirely. 

“I want to be a writer for muggles,” she confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “I like to write fantasy, you know. But that's not a genre for wizards; our reality often rivals the most fantastical of fiction. So, my focus turns toward the muggle readers.”

Though caught off guard by the revelation, Fred remained silent, feeling a surge of admiration for her. He hadn't anticipated such a response.

“I can help you find Flewchief's book,” she offered, swiftly transitioning past the exposure of her own secret, determined not to let her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I know this library well, particularly the section reserved for muggle authors. I presume you and George have little familiarity with the place.”

A crooked smile curled upon his lips in response. “Indeed,” he admitted with a chuckle, “you could even say 'no familiarity'; it's quite fitting.”

While (y/n) couldn't quite fathom how any student or individual could navigate life without venturing into the depths of a library, she empathized with their unfamiliarity. The muggle literature section was cloaked in segregation as if Hogwarts itself was disconcerted by such volumes.

Rising from her seat, she gathered her assortment of potion books. Truth be told, she harboured no illusions about accomplishing any meaningful research that afternoon. She left only one book behind – the one currently cradled in Fred's grasp.

“Are you coming or…?" Her voice hung in the air, a hint of playful theatricality accompanying her question.

Promptly, Fred sprang from his chair, the solitary book still in his possession. With (y/n) as his guide, they embarked on a journey through the library's labyrinthine aisles. Initially, they returned her stack of books to Madam Irma Pince, whose sole acknowledgement was a fleeting glance, her eyes flitting over the pile as it landed on her counter. Her gaze flickered momentarily as if recognition finally settled in at the sight of the redheaded companion beside (y/n).

“A Weasley," Madam Irma Pince declared, her observation stating the obvious. Fred, however, found himself grappling with an appropriate response. Ultimately, he opted for a shrug, his head tilting in acquiescence.

“I’m Fred,” he offered, his voice laced with a touch of formality. “But, you are absolutely correct, I am a Weasley."

It was abundantly clear that the librarian was well aware of which Weasley he was. 

“Don’t tear my books apart,” she cautioned, her voice edged with warning. “And don’t you dare burn this place down.”

Fred's lips pressed into a tight line, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. He responded with a curt, “Noted."

(y/n) glanced up at Fred and then to the side, studying his expression. His tone left her somewhat perplexed – she couldn't discern if he was indulging in sarcastic provocation or if he held genuine offence at Madam Irma Pince's admonitions. She reflected that the torrent of criticisms from every adult figure must have been tiring. Yet, the twins hadn't acquired their notoriety by chance; their reputation as school pranksters was well-earned.

The three exchanged furtive glances before Madam Irma Pince averted her gaze to her counter. Her intentions, on the other side, remained veiled to (y/n). Fred possessed the capability to peek, but (y/n) held doubts about him exercising that prerogative.

Clearing her throat, (y/n) eased away from the librarian, and Fred followed suit.

“Take me to George,” she requested. Detecting Fred's immediate confusion, she elaborated, “So both of you can scour the shelves for the books. I can assist, but I'm not quite tall enough to reach all of the shelves.”

“Again," Fred inclined his head toward her, and at that moment, a subtle shift occurred, the playful dance of flirtation vanishing as swiftly as it had emerged, “Thank you for the assistance”. His expression was appreciative, genuine, a quiet acknowledgement of her assistance.

With a soft smile, she replied, “Don't mention it," her voice bearing a hushed quality, her gaze evading direct eye contact. “You’ll just own me one.”

He chuckled, “Uh, the unspoken possibilities.”

Indeed, Fred. Indeed.

It was a rather cold day. 

But it was Saturday and Hogsmeade trip day, so (y/n) put on her thickest coat and decided to face the snow.

Her fellow housemates buzzed with excitement, eagerly anticipating the visit. Yet, for (y/n), this outing held a more sombre purpose – a pilgrimage to Honeydukes. While her friends were pursuing quills and ingredients, (y/n) sought only solace in candy. These past few days had been trying, and the kitchen house elves had quietly declared her persona non grata, etching “no longer welcomed" onto their secret walls. So she’d have to buy her own sweets from now on.

“Feeling hot today?” a voice chimed from behind (y/n).

She clutched herself, attempting to stave off the relentless cold. Hogsmeade always exuded a chill, but it seemed that nature was intent on pushing the mercury even lower today. Not even her trusty coat could entirely repel the biting wind.

The voice was familiar; she recognised it as belonging to Fred Weasley.

“Where’s your other half?” she asked, noticing George wasn’t around.

“At the school,” Fred replied, bridging the distance with a few long strides. Given the frigid weather, (y/n) moved slowly, rivalling the old ladies of Diagon Alley. “He's caught the flu.”

A chuckle escaped (y/n), though her amusement was laced with empathy. “After today, I might end up just as sick.”

Fred mirrored her laughter, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle. Then, shifting his gaze towards their right, his expression became more earnest. “Come on, let’s get you something warm. Tea?”

True to his suggestion, Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop loomed just a few steps away.

(y/n) scanned her surroundings, from Fred to the inviting facade of the shop, and for a fleeting moment, the idea appealed to her. But then, a mental alarm sounded – this place was renowned for romantic trysts, a haven for couples from their year. For a time, (y/n) had considered herself above such traditions. But as her sixteenth birthday came and went, and she remained unattached, she longed for the experience of a boy inviting her to tea. Now, at eighteen, it seemed more a fanciful dream than a tangible possibility.

So Fred was definitely not suggesting it as a date.

“I actually have to head to Honeydukes,” she replied, her features arranged in a grimace, and she gestured with her body towards the store at the far end of the bustling Hogsmeade street. “That's the only reason I'm still here.”

Fred bit his lip in thought. “How about we grab a tea to go, then?” he proposed, his determination unwavering. He peered down at her, shivering in the cold, taking in her petite frame. “In less than fifteen minutes, you'll be on your way back to Hogwarts.”

The notion of sipping on something piping hot was increasingly appealing.

“Promise?” she asked, her tone a touch childlike.

Fred extended his pinky finger, encased in a slightly faded red glove – likely a Weasley hand-me-down. Not that (y/n) considered herself entitled or wealthy, but it was common knowledge that the Weasleys weren't the richest in monetary terms. Yet, they were undeniably wealthy in children.

Her own pinky fingers remained nestled deep within her pockets, safe from the cold. Fred glanced down and chuckled.

“Come on.”

She sighed, “Fine, Weasley. But you're footing the bill,” and when she noticed he was about to playfully protest, she added, “You were the one who insisted, after all.”

They walked together, resembling a pair of penguins navigating the icy terrain. (y/n)’s hands, nestled within her coat pockets, were shielded from the biting cold, yet their elbows still grazed one another now and then as they strolled leisurely.

Fred gallantly held the door open, allowing her to enter the cosy shop, and she expressed her gratitude in a soft murmur. While he proceeded to the counter to place their order (when queried, (y/n) simply requested, “Any tea will do, as long as it's the hottest available"), she contemplated the peculiar friendship that had taken root between them.

She'd never been an opponent of Fred, or the Weasleys, or anyone within Gryffindor, as one might have assumed. However, their closeness was a relatively recent development. When confronted with one of the twins' pranks, (y/n) was often the first to laugh, captivated by the sheer audacity of their exploits. She believed magic should be harnessed for amusement, not as a weapon; consequently, she found their approach to their magical talents endearing.

Because of her laughter, Fred and George had never targeted her with their pranks. Their mischief was generally directed at Malfoy and his ilk. Occasionally, she'd return to her common room and find something amiss, but she understood it was their way of rebelling against the entirety of Slytherin and its values rather than a personal affront.

By her fifth year, (y/n) considered Fred and George her acquaintances. They exchanged nods in the classrooms and other shared spaces. Being in the same year, she had grown accustomed to their voices and learned to differentiate between them.

Moreover, the Weasley twins had a certain charisma that she couldn't deny. She had met Fred’s older brothers before, so their good looks were no surprise. She realised this charm extended to Fred as he approached with two cups of steaming tea.

His freckles had always been a distinctive feature she admired. Yet now, she also noticed the appeal of his height, his shoulders broad and strong, typical of a Beater. His hair appeared soft and straight, inviting her fingers to run through its fiery strands, although she knew better than to entertain such notions.

Strangely, it was his nose that intrigued her the most. It was the distinguishing feature that allowed her to differentiate between Fred and George. She found it more masculine and captivating than the rest of his features. Not to mention his chest, which had once tantalisingly revealed his abs through a sweaty Quidditch shirt during a match. The sport certainly worked wonders on bodies.

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. She freed her hands from her pockets only with the prospect of holding something scolding hot.

Fred observed her closely as she tasted the tea, noticing how her eyes momentarily closed in bliss and how her body seemed to uncoil, the tension in her shoulders dissipating.

“All right, off to Honeydukes I go," she declared, pivoting towards the Tea Shop's exit.

Fred followed her, hastening to hold the door open once more. A subtle blush dusted her cheeks, and she was relieved that the shop was still relatively empty. A couple occupied a dimly lit corner but seemed too concentrated on each other to notice Fred Weasley being nice to a Slytherin girl. So that’s saying a lot about how entertained that random teenage couple was.

As they stepped back into the brisk Hogsmeade air, (y/n) noticed that Fred was still at her side. She didn't voice any complaint, though. Ever since the day he had sought her help at the library, she had resigned herself to the idea that she might never get the opportunity to converse with Fred alone again. George was always around, and if not him, then someone else. And even though, if she tried, (y/n) could engage in conversation with the other twin or with a Gryffindor student, she would rather not. 

In fact, it was rare to find someone she would like to engage in conversation with.

Fred was a… welcoming surprise.

“Uh," Fred's voice cut through the silence, which had settled between them as they enjoyed their tea, “can we make a quick stop here?"

They were passing by Zonko's Joke Shop, renowned for its extensive collection of prankster essentials. Of course, the shop would undoubtedly be on Fred's daily checklist. However, his request to pause at the store intrigued (y/n), given that she had never envisioned walking with him that day. Sure, he had treated her to tea, but that hardly counted as an expense, and she had mentioned her eagerness to return to Hogwarts promptly.

“It won't take long, I promise," he assured her, taking note of her delayed response. “Just add five more minutes to your wait. I'll escort you back, no worries."

(y/n) hesitated for a moment. “You really don't have to do that," she replied, taken aback by his gentlemanly offer.

“As if I'd let you make the journey alone."

She gazed at him in the wake of his response. “I'm a witch," she pointed out the obvious. “It's not like I can't handle a few dangers."

Fred cocked his head, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. “Can you defend yourself against the cold?"

She didn't respond; her answer would have been a resounding ‘no.'

“That's what I thought," he declared, a knowing smile dancing on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, her free hand resting on her hip, her other still cradling her tea. “And what can you do to protect me from the cold?" she challenged Fred.

His smile grew, and he knew he had the perfect response. “Keep you from slipping on the icy ground."

Annoyed by his accuracy, she sighed loudly as they entered the joke shop.

The shop was bubbling with people: it was a living organism. (y/n) struggled to recall the last time she had set foot in this place. She had certainly visited the joke shop before, back in her third year when students were first allowed to venture into the village. Like her peers, she had eagerly explored every store without exception. However, as time passed, most of the shops had become familiar and somewhat ordinary to her. She only made the trip to Hogsmeade with a purpose now. Coming just for butterbeer seemed pointless, especially when she lacked the company of friends to sit with and share laughter.

So, following Fred Weasley as he browsed around the shop put her in a silent trance of observation and gaping. He moved confidently, searching for items and locating them quickly, with the same precision she'd demonstrated when she'd guided him through the library the other day. (y/n) followed at his heels, like a child following its guardian. In less than three minutes, they were already in line to pay.

“How do you know where everything is?" she asked, enjoying the moment of calm the checkout line offered. “I don't think gathering all that took you more than five minutes."

And it was indeed quite a haul. Fred's two hands cradled dozens of boxes and items like precious cargo in his lap. The teacup he had been carrying was now held securely by (y/n), ensuring that her hands were occupied with warm objects to fend off the cold.

Fred responded with a casual shrug to her question. “How do you know where all the books are in the library?" he countered.

“I don't know," she replied, her response unfiltered. “I guess I've just memorised it over time."

“Me too," he said, his eyes fixed on the shop as if watching his beloved. “Not to give reason to my fame at Hogwarts, but of course, my favourite shop has to be Zonko’s."

The line at the checkout stretched long, leaving (y/n) and Fred standing in contemplative silence, pondering the curious connection that seemed to be budding between them. Amid it all, (y/n)'s thoughts swelled like a bubbling potion. Were they friends now? Could she consider adding him to her list of friends for Christmas shopping? These questions lingered, but she found herself without a clear answer. It felt odd to directly ask such a thing; friends didn’t ask if they were friends. They either were or weren’t, organically becoming over time.

But despite the comfort she felt around Fred, she couldn't quite label it friendship. The issue, she concluded, was her own. She had a deficit of friends and now understood why: she wasn't wired for it. Friendship wasn't part of her programming. Fred, on the other hand, was a different breed. Friendship was his natural state, woven into his very essence. He exuded a friendly aura, even if many Slytherins would vehemently disagree.

She didn't need to wonder whether he considered her a friend. He most likely did. He never targeted her with pranks; he exchanged glances with her in class often and was currently offering to escort her back to school. Fred saw her as a friend.

But did she want that?

“What are you thinking?” he inquired, pulling her out of her contemplative reverie.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, relaxing his shoulders. “I can see the smoke coming out of your ears like a cauldron.”

She had no clever reply, so she was content with wrinkling her forehead and lying. “I’m thinking about how quickly I will be able to get all the candy I want. Definitely not as quick as you, here.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Why?”

“I love candy and definitely know where everything is at the shop,” she explained, tilting her head unconsciously as she spoke. She explained, unconsciously tilting her head while talking. “But I have to gather enough to last until our next trip to Hogsmeade, and I'm not certain I can calculate that. I love chocolate, so one would assume I'd need to buy a lot to make it last. However, if I get too much, I'll eat more than I should. And trust me, I will eat everything I buy," she concluded with a hint of warning in her tone, as if she were issuing a threat rather than sharing a piece of information.

Fred swallowed hard, trying to wrap his head around her unique thought process. “Are you stockpiling sweets?"

She nodded, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

“Well, if you do end up eating it all, I'll show you where to get more, you know, from the kitchen with the house elves," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he were secretly pleased with himself for sharing this tidbit.

“Oh, Weasley," she shook her head, dramatically feigning pitifulness. “I already know the secret passage to the kitchen. That's precisely why I have to stockpile chocolate in the first place. I've been painted as a criminal there for how many sweets I've pilfered."

He couldn't help but chuckle, though he kept it discreet.

“I can't believe it," Fred said with mock disbelief, then paused as if pondering again. “Well, actually, I can."

With the two cups of tea-to-go in her hands, she raised her shoulders in a half-shrug while raising her hands in tandem.

“So yeah," she concluded, “I have to stock up until the Professors allow us to come here again."

Staring at him, (y/n) couldn't help but think that Fred was on the verge of saying something. However, something must have caused him to change his mind, and he remained uncharacteristically silent. A few seconds later, he was called to the cashier to settle the bill for his items. (y/n) patiently waited behind him, casually sipping her tea.

When Fred returned to her side, the numerous small boxes he'd been clutching had been consolidated into just two cardboard bags, which he effortlessly carried in one hand. The two of them exited the joke shop, savouring the last remnants of their teas. By the time they reached Honeydukes, the cups had already been discreetly disposed of in the nearest bin.

“Have fun," he wished her warmly, courteously holding the door of the candy shop open for her to enter. (y/n) returned his friendly sentiment with a smile—precisely the sort of well-wishing one would expect before embarking on a shopping spree in a candy store.

Fred lingered in a quiet corner of the shop, surreptitiously observing as she gleefully navigated the aisles, carefully selecting her candies and placing them into a plastic basket a diligent store employee offered. She appeared far more animated here than he had ever seen her before—back in the library, she had come across as somewhat bored, and the same was true in their shared classes. While she undeniably held the status of a top student with excellent grades, Fred couldn't help but wonder why she seemed to lack the enthusiasm and focus he might have expected from someone of her academic calibre.

However, gathering her desired assortment of sweets took considerably longer than the five minutes Fred had initially anticipated. When he finally met up with her at the cashier, the man behind the counter handed over not one, not two, but three full bags of assorted candies and confections.

Fred couldn't help but jest, “Wow, someone's clearly outdone me."

“Mine's supposed to last longer," she retorted with a wry smile, determined to maintain her composure. 

Fred's grin only broadened. "Will it, though?"

There was no malice behind his teasing; his natural inclination was to engage in playful banter, a habit he would have indulged with George, Ginny, or anyone else. If anything, he found himself enjoying the camaraderie that was forming between them, appreciating the quick-witted exchanges that characterised their interactions. And (y/n)'s response was predictable by now—a blend of half-anger and half-challenge that had come to define her expressions.

They left the candy store, their playful back-and-forth continuing as they walked, with Fred progressively leaning in closer with each exchange.

Fred's next question unintentionally left (y/n) feeling mortified as they approached the Three Broomsticks. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a good, old butterbeer?” he asked. “It’s alright if you do. I won’t linger at your friends’ table; I’ll just drop you there and find Oliver Wood or someone else.” He said, using Oliver as an example, for he was the one name he remembered to have seen around the village.

It was weird, now that Fred had come to think of it, how he did not recall seeing one person from Hogwarts around Hogsmeade, even though he knew it was a crowded day there.

She had no friends to meet there or anywhere else. She cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact, “I don't have friends in there."

The proximity to the inn allowed them a clear view through the frosty windows, revealing the familiar faces of fellow students enjoying butterbeer.

“Why? Haven't they come to Hogsmeade?" Fred asked in surprise, momentarily distracted by the scene inside. “I swear that's Carmen Highland if my eyes aren't deceiving me," he remarked, gazing at the occupants within.

Lost in the sight of her former friends, Fred hadn't noticed that (y/n) was gradually distancing herself from him. She knew Carmen and recognised the other kids at her table — Andrea, Miniu, and Shenny. But they weren't friends anymore. 

At least, not anymore.

“It is Carmen,” she reassured him, in case Fred would start considering he was indeed blind. “We’re just not friends, though.”

Fred finally snapped out of gazing through the cold glass window and returned his gaze to her.

“I distinctly remember all of you being quite lively at dinners and walking around classes," he said, furrowing his brows. “Unless Carmen has look-alikes I'm unaware of, I'm certain it's her. I've seen her during my Quidditch practices, competing for the pitch." 

A smile tinged with embarrassment danced on (y/n)'s lips. She smiled not because she was pleased with the memories but because she was trying to conceal her inner gloom.  “I used to walk with Carmen, and Miniu, and Andrea and Shenny. But that was way before.”

“No, I…”

“It was, Freddie,” she interrupted before he made her remember another memory. It was only because of her use of his nickname that he understood she wasn’t alright. “We were friends in the first year. Us and a bunch of other kids, so tight together because we were Slytherin, and we had to stick together because then we’d be victims of bullying from other houses.” Fred opened his mouth, but she continued, “Don’t deny it.”

Fred sighed and nodded.

“In our second year, the group started to shrink, and it ended up being just me and that table," she explained, her gaze distant, as if the memories were playing out before her eyes. "But I began to feel like I was there because I forced myself to be. I was being pushy. So when I stopped going, they didn't chase after me. That's when it became clear to me what our relationship was."

“What was it?" Fred inquired, genuinely perplexed, prompting (y/n) to wonder if he had ever experienced the abrupt end of a friendship.

“They weren't my friends," (y/n) stated matter-of-factly. “We didn't have a falling out or anything. I still greet them, and occasionally, we help each other with homework in the common room. But that's about it."

Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully, pondering the right words to respond with.

“Alright," he finally conceded. “I won't pry further," he said, his expression more serious now. “I can't quite fathom how a friendship could simply unravel like that, but it's clear it's not a cheerful matter. However, that doesn't mean you can't be with your other friends."

She rolled her eyes with exasperation and turned away from Fred and the entrance of the Three Broomsticks, her boots crunching softly in the freshly fallen snow.

“I don't have friends," she sighed, her breath visible in the crisp, wintry air. She could hear his footsteps, somehow always close behind.

Fred waited until he was walking right alongside her before he replied; his tone was soft and comforting. “You have me," he said, then hastily cleared his throat. “I mean, you have us. Me and George. I still owe you one from our library escapade."

“Consider it settled," she responded, her voice edged with a hint of exhaustion and her gaze averted. “You gave me a cup of tea, after all."

“That was just courtesy," Fred explained, his lips curving into a friendly smile, thinking their usual playful banter had resumed.

But (y/n) was weary, and it showed in her demeanour.

“Well, you're accompanying me back to the school," she tried again, her tone tinged with finality. “So consider that debt paid."

“Nah," he waved his free hand dismissively. “That's just me being a proper gentleman."

She rolled her eyes once more, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. “Fred..."

“We're friends, alright," he insisted, his tone gentle yet resolute, raising his voice slightly. “You have a friend... in me."

Without warning, (y/n) halted in her tracks, pivoting to face him fully, her expression a mixture of astonishment, incredulity, and a hint of amusement.

“Did you just quote a Muggle movie at me?" she asked, her voice showing disbelief.

“I’m sorry?”

“‘You have a friend in me’,” she repeated his words, this time adding a melody to her tone. “Did you quote the Toy Story song?”

“A toy story? Where is it?” he was genuinely confused, which led (y/n) to drop the subject since it was evident he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Never mind," she sighed, resuming her pace. “It's from a Muggle movie."

“And you've seen it?" Fred's stride matched hers again, his curiosity piqued.

“Unfortunately," she replied, her lips twisting in mild distaste. “I didn't quite enjoy it."

“Oh, why not?" Fred inquired with interest.

“It was... about friendship," she said, taking a moment to complete her sentence.

“I see," Fred mused, nodding thoughtfully as they walked towards the school, the snow beneath their feet offering a soft, comforting crunch with every step. “Perhaps I should watch it.”

“Yeah, why not,” she replied, not really wanting to participate in the conversation.

Fred knew when to shut up when he should, so they remained silent until the school entrance was visible.

“Uh, thank you,” (y/n) told him as they stopped in the middle of Hogwarts’ entrance corridor. It was a relatively empty hallway.

“See you around,” he nodded, and she bit her lip, turning her heels towards her House. “Friend,” Fred added a second later, only to see her turn her gaze over her shoulder.

“Bye, Weasley,” she said with a heavy breath out of resignation.

[cintsalis]

I wanted to share the cover of Fourth Life with you all, the artist is Michi Hikari from Etsy— Unfortunately I couldn’t find someone from here on tumblr who would gladly work with me as I know I can be a difficult person; when it comes to art commissions and such but I was very much happy with this result. 🥰 They’re soo adorably cute, my heart cannot handle it! 😭♥️

[bunshiftz]

𝓜ARAURDERS DR

𝓜 + 𝓙 + 𝓡

☾. name: magnolia jayden-rhiannon becker

☾. birthday: april 9 1960

☾. ethnicity: german, french, métis, scottish

☾. sexuality: bisexual, demisexual, polygamy

☾. nationality: canadian-scottish

☾. patronus: brown hare

☾. animagus: thumper

☾. blood status: pureblood

☾. house: hufflepuff

☾. wand: beech wood, unicorn core, 11 ¾, brittle

𝓟ERSONALITY

 ◞ likes: nice + funny people, friends, vinyl shopping w/ sirius, bowie, hozier, abba, bee gees, reading, slow sundays, shopping in muggle london, magical creatures, cats, converse, pink, baking, hiking, movies, the sun hitting the rain + clouds at the right time, fashion, singing, strawberries, bagels, music, the marauders map + james’ invisibility cloak (i can take it whenever i want, thanks bby), stained glass, perfume, makeup, earrings, funky socks, concerts

 ◞ known for: her shoe collection, the colors pink and red, her long brown hair, growing up a muggle even though she’s pureblood, hanging out in the gryffindor common room, dating a potter + black, not tolerating mean comments or people, drinking at least 2 gallons of water a day, being from canada, music taste (bowie, bee gees, hozier, fleetwood mac, abba and more), daily hairstyles, always smelling like vanilla and coconut, long natural lashes, #1 heros lvr

𝓑ACKSTORY

 ◞ backstory: i grew up in canada, technically part of pureblood society, but my siblings and I were raised almost entirely the muggle way; we went to regular schools, wore muggle clothes, and lived the kind of everyday life that grounded us in things like respect, manners, and proper conversation. i spent two years (10-12) at a small wizarding school, but things changed when dumbledore suggested we move closer to england, and so we moved to scotland! that’s when i really started learning about my dad’s side of the family, my dad was the secret child of grindelwald, who is a descendent of merlin. so we moved to merlin’s castle in which my dad inherited. we get accepted into society pretty easily, especially by the potters who shared the same view points as us about blood supremacy.

𝓛IFE AT HOGWARTS

 ◞ general: students start at 13 years old and stay until 20, so that when we get to hogwarts we know simple spells and can get on with more complex ish ones. there are classes for muggle borns so they can learn spells wizarding families grew up with. uniforms are allowed to be customized to an extent and aren’t permitted to wear on fridays, weekends ofc or holidays.

☾. 1st year: 13-14yrs

☾. 2nd year: 14-15yrs

☾. 3rd year: 15-16yrs

☾. 4th year: 16-17yrs

☾. 5th year: 17-18yrs

☾. 6th year: 18-19yrs

☾. 7th year: 19-20yrs

 ◞ dorms: there are two types of dorms, the shared ones or solo dorms, but you can only get these 5th year and beyond. past 3rd year if you wish to be with certain people you are allowed to as long as their the same sex. there are counsellors for any needs (the 70s were not a good time for mental health so I changed it to be a normal and necessary topic). the other houses are allowed into your houses common room. the curfew for 3rd year below is 10pm and for 4th year above is 11pm.

𝓦ORLD BUILDING

 ◞ worldbuilding: this dr kinda strays off the whole wizarding war thing almost entirely. so that means i’ll be able to have a “normal” school experience with my friends where we prank people or just hangout with each other. i got rid of this element 1. for my own benefit because i don’t wan’t to fight a war 2. for our future kids benefit so they don’t have to continue the war without parents. bonus! people who would’ve been . . . insane, aren’t ie. bellatrix

 ◞ main friends: james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, lily evans, barty crouch jr, regina black, mary macdonald, marlene mckinnon, dorcas meadows, pandora lovegood, evan rosier, peter pettigrew, madeline lupin, shini sin clair, eden von dutch

 ◞ friend group: since I have many friends I am a part of most of them including but not excluded too, the valkyries, marauders, pantheon and my roomates. peter, james and marlene all lived in godrics hollow (i moved the town to scotland) near where i lived so naturally we would all become fast friends. me james and peter all met remus and sirius and by proxy regina and madeline, on the train starting the marauders. after meeting them i went to find marlene and met the girls and stayed with them the whole trip. i got sorted into hufflepuff so i became fast friends with my roommates. im friends with some of the slytherins, im not hostile towards them but unless i know they aren’t blood purists i wont talk to them. (my slytherin friends obvs aren’t blood purists)

ib. lyrashifts

[gnarly-words]

hope | pt. 3

description: finally sorted into her house, y/n potter find that the magic of hogwarts wears off quickly.

pairing: sirius black x female!potter!reader

warnings: bullying, mentions of blood purity

word count: 4,505

masterlist

y/n's legs trembled beneath her as she stood with the other first years outside of the great hall. besides her, holly and heather were placing bets on what houses everyone would be sorted into, already having listed half of the group before professor mcgonagall had even introduced the houses to them.

"there's no way you're going to get any of those right, you can't always judge a book by its cover." grace glared at the two, already seeing her name having been written down in the 'slytherin' category on their sheet of paper.

"but you can by a surname." heather teased back, shoving the paper into the pocket of her sister's robes in haste as mcgonagall stared down the two.

"i'm not sure i want to ask what you two are up to, misses avery." she raised an eyebrow at the pair before she turned and swished her robes behind her. "now, if you follow me, it is time for the sorting ceremony to begin."

the tall, grand doors opened to reveal the wonder that was the great hall, a chorus of angels sounding in y/n's head as she stared in awe at the vast beauty of the hall. all traces of nerves left her body as she became enamored by the enchanted ceiling above them that created an illusion of a cloudy night sky.

"you know, I have ten knuts on you being a gryffindor," holly whispered as she came to a stop behind the girl. "you know, family legacy and all."

y/n couldn't react before professor mcgonagall pulled a four-legged, wooden stool out from the corner of the room and placed an old pointed hat atop it. she couldn't quite understand why the professor was making them stand before an old, dusty hat in such a beautifully, ornate room. maybe she should've listened to what mcgonagall was saying before they had entered the hall instead of listening to the twins' gambling.

"first Years! when i call your name, you will step forward so you may be be sorted into your houses." mcgonagall announces, pulling a scroll from the pocket of her robes. "ackerley, stephen."

a glasses-bearing boy stumbled his way through the crowd of first years and wobbled up the steps, his glasses almost flipping off his glasses as the sorting hat was placed on top of his head.

"ravenclaw, for sure. there's no way he's in gryffindor with those wobbly knees." holly giggled as she whispered to her sister, earning a grin from the identical blonde girl.

"shut up." grace gritted through her teeth, already feeling professor mcgonagall's glare burning a hole in the sides of their heads.

"hmm. very intelligent, so much wit. hmmm, i think it will have to be... ravenclaw!" the sorting hat announced to the whole room, eliciting a roar of cheers from the table closest to the girl on the left.

"told you." holly sing-songed, already grabbing a handful of coins out of her sister's begrudged hand.

y/n couldn't focus any further on the squabble between the twins, already zoning out completely as she stared into the soulless eyes of the sorting hat. it seemed to be smirking as it announced each of the passing student's houses, knowing how much power it held in determining the lives of the students before it.

she cast her glance down the tables on her right, trying to catch the eyes of her brother or any of his friends. relief washed over her as she found the hazel eyes of her brother, who was already staring straight at his twin, almost as though he could sense her fear. he gave her a reassuring smile, nodding his head in encouragement for her to face her peers once more.

turning her head back to the sorting hat, she realised the absence of the avery twins beside her, clearly having been sorted in her fearful zone out. Isobel huffed another breath, sharing a forced smile with michelle who was hugging the book she had been reading on the train to her chest.

"black, regulus," mcgonagall announced.

a near carbon copy of sirius approached the chair, a small smirk on his face as he didn't even lower himself onto the chair before the sorting hat was screaming 'slytherin' for all in the hall to hear. his smirk didn't go away as he walked boastfully over to the slytherin table, being welcomed by a series of respectful nods from the pureblooded elites of the snake house.

y/n huffed, already having heard the blasphemy sirius' mother had been spewing to the boy when she and her brother had gone over to visit during the summer. it had been borderline harassment towards the two potters as they sat silently in the cold living of grimmauld place and walburga had been blabbing on about the shame she felt knowing her son had been sorted into a house with those sorts in it.

so, as she watched the raven-haired boy engage in conversation with his fellow housemates, y/n could understand why he had turned out as cocky and arrogant as he did. if she had a mother as cruel as walburga black, she would've started listening to and adopting the same ideologies just as quickly as Regulus seems to of.

mcgonagall began to list off multiple names from the long scroll before her, "dawson...evers...garrick...kolker."

each student was sorted into their house happily, each receiving the same warm welcome from their respective tables, even the slytherins being welcomed with claps on their shoulders and nods of approval.

y/n paused at the next name that the professor read off, recognising the surname from one of her parents' dinners she had listened to from upstairs in her bedroom.

"lestrange, everly," mcgonagall announced the next name on her list.

y/n couldn't help but be captivated by the aura of the girl before her, something she had noticed had occurred to most of the students of the hall. the girl held her head high as she all but glided up the steps, delicately placing herself on top of the wooden stool.

the lestranges were a powerful pure-blood family, having come from paris and traveled to england in the early 1900s. they were well respected by all pure-blooded families in the country but were feared by most others. their affiliation with the rising dark lord and his supporters caused them to be cast out to their fellow dark arts enthusiastic families that had risen in the ranks of voldermort's followers. y/n felt pity for the girl, already knowing she was to be sorted in the house of snakes based solely on her family history and nothing else.

the hat was lowered over her eyes, only the tip of her olive-coloured chin remaining below the ragged material. "hmmm.. very interesting this one, another lestrange, i see. a family of ambition, cunning, and pride. but there's more to you, young one. i sense a thirst for knowledge and a desire for greatness beyond the family name. yes, there's a clever mind in here, and a heart that knows the value of loyalty. hmm... where to place you?"

y/n held her breath on behalf of the girl, whose fidgeting feet and bouncing knees showed the truth of her anxiety behind the confidence she tried to exude.

"i guess it will have to be, slytherin!" the hat finally announced after a beat of silence, a relieved smile revealing itself from under the hat as lestrange ran towards her new house table so fast that the wooden stool rocked in her wake.

mcgonagall huffed in annoyance, already holding a dislike for the girl's fleeting behaviour as she left the raised sorting area.

"lovegood, xenophilius." She sniffed, carrying on with the sorting after settling the still-tilting stool.

if everly lestrange had caused the great hall to be entranced by her elegance and grace, xenophilius lovegood had engrossed them with the peculiar creature resting upon his shoulder and the platinum hair that fell atop his shoulders. y/n stifled a laugh as she caught the perplexed face of mcgonagall as the fluffy creature blinked soullessly up at her.

"oh, i know what to do with you, lovegood. I'll have to put you in...ravenclaw!" xenophilius didn't even sit down before he was already being sent away by the sorting hat.

"dammit." a small voice sounded from the other side of the room, earning many heads to turn towards the source.

y/n tried to hide her smirk as she saw the exchange of coins going on between the two blonde avery twins as one of them had lost a bet on the newly-announced ravenclaw student.

"misses avery, come see me after dinner." professor slughorn announced from the head table, earning a cheeky thumbs up and matching grin from the twins.

y/n finally saw what table the twins had been sitting at; slytherin. she couldn't help but feel sad as she realised she probably wouldn't be in the same house as the two girls whose mischievous nature reminded her of her brother and his friends. she only hoped that either grace, michelle or josie would be sorted into the same house as her.

"potter, y/n." mcgonagall peered over her scroll, staring down at the brunette girl, unmoving in her spot. "miss potter."

y/n stumbled as hands pushed her forward, peering over her shoulder and seeing the reassuring smile of grace. she stepped forward with a deep breath, determination etched on her face as she climbed the few steps up to the wooden stool. she placed the sorting hat upon her head, and it began to speak in its ancient, whispering voice:

"ah, another potter. i remember your brother last year. you both come from a family of legends and heroes, no doubt. but where shall i place you, young one? your heart beats with the fiery passion of bravery, the daring spirit of a lion. yet, there's something else here, something special."

y/n could already hear the pride in her parent's voices as she clung to the hope that the sorting hat would say the word 'gryffindor', but the hat continued:

"you possess a heart full of kindness, a soul that values loyalty and hard work. you have the potential to bring people together, to nurture the bonds of friendship. yes, there's much more to you than meets the eye."

y/n's heart sank as she waited for the sorting hat's final decision, knowing that her hopes were about to be dashed into pieces. her eyes shut as she awaited her fate.

"your determination to be in gryffindor is strong, but so is your capacity for kindness. it's a difficult choice, but i see your true potential. it'll have to be... hufflepuff!"

the great hall fell silent and still for a moment, no one quite believing the words the hat had just said. 'a potter in hufflepuff?' it was something no one ever thought possible, their legacy being descended from true, pure gryffindors. y/n's shoulders slumped in her place on the wooden stool, already feeling the judgement of everyone in the hall. she slowly raised the hat from her head, lifting her head to stare up at professor mcgonagall beside her. mcgonagall only smiled sympathetically at the girl, holding her hand out for the hat.

a slow clap began to ring from the closest table on her left, slowly growing in speed and volume as more and more people joined in with the clapping. y/n locked eyes with her brother, his eyes holding a deep pride as he watched his sister finally be sorted into hogwarts. she felt relief wash over her as she saw the smiles gracing the faces of her brother and his friends, and happily walked over to the tab;e closest to her left, opposite where a sandy-haired fourth-year winked at her.

"don't worry, potter. you'll fit in with us puffs." the boy smiled warmly at her, already making the girl feel welcomed into her new house. "i'm frank longbottom."

"i'm y/n potter. but you already know that." she looked down at her lap shyly.

"no reason to apologise. always a good thing to greet your fellow housemates." frank grinned once more, before looking over her shoulder at something behind her.

y/n turned, confused, finding sirius and james glaring angrily at frank from the table behind them.

"you better not be flirting with my sister, longbottom." james hissed, only slightly serious.

"please, as if he'd want to flirt with anyone but slice." a girl from beside the boys rolled her eyes, earning a chuckle from the others around her.

"he's obsessed with her." a tall blonde girl from the gryffindor table leaned over to the small girl.

"am not." frank sighed, clearly used to the teasing.

"are too." the blonde girl stuck her tongue out before turning back to the sorting ceremony.

"am not," frank grumbled under his breath once more, before turning his head to the end of the hall.

y/n followed his eyes, seeing the brown-haired girl, michelle, from the train all but sprinting over to the ravenclaw table beside her. y/n's sad mood from before returned as yet another one of the friends she'd made on the train was sent to a different house from her. her hope turned to josie as she confidently approached the wooden stool.

"oh, i don't even need to deliberate on this one... gryffindor." The hat announced, the table behind y/n erupting into cheers as the brunette girl skipped over to join her fellow first years at the end of the table.

y/n tried to meet her eye line but was blocked by the many gryffindors congratulating her. she stared down at the empty plate below her, slowly blocking out the rest of the sorting as she lost all hope that her final friend, grace, would be sent over to hufflepuff.

she was so zoned out from the rest of the great hall that she didn't even notice the ginger girl setting herself down on the bench beside her, continuing to sigh sadly down at the table.

"wow, potter. thought you'd be more excited to see me." grace sulked beside the girl, nudging her with her elbow.

"grace?" a grin slowly spread across y/n's face, who had a matching grin on her face. "oh, thank merlin. i thought i was going to be alone here."

"rude," frank grumbled in front of the girls, jokingly sulking as they waited for dumbledore to be done with his long speech about the places students were not meant to go.

"does he say this every year?" grace asked, surprised by how many parts of the castle and its grounds that they were banned from entering.

"basically, though it's still as unterrifying each year." frank rolled his eyes, already used to dumbledore's scare tactics.

y/n couldn't ask the boy any further questions before she was gasping in shock at the mounds of food appearing before her. she had seen the magic of house-elf food before, but nothing the likes of the mass that hogwarts presented before her. her mouth watered at the steam that billowed from the boats of gravy before her, already knowing she would be holding it captive as she filled her yorkshire pudding to the brim with the liquid.

"are you gonna eat any of that or just keep staring at it?" grace nudged her once more but paused as the girl sprung across the table to scoop as much of the food onto her plate as possible. "okay, i guess you are going to eat all of that."

"sorry. i just love roast potatoes." y/n giggled, piling more and more onto her plate before the bowl was empty.

"you know, potter, some of us would also like some potatoes." frank raised his eyebrows from across the table, not quite believing that the small girl was going to be able to finish all of the food on her plate.

y/n stopped shoveling the potatoes into her mouth with a shocked face, not quite believing how selfish she had been towards her fellow housemates. "i-i'm sorry. i can put some back."

frank laughed as he nodded his head over to the platter, where more steaming potatoes had appeared in the bowl as soon as she set it down on the table.

"i'm just pulling your leg, potter. those house-elves in the kitchen make more than enough food to feed everyone in the hall." he winked, diving back into conversation with the raven-haired boy beside him.

"did your brother not tell you how things work here?" grace asked, only finishing half of her plate before the girl beside her was filling hers up for seconds.

"well, i know that the house-elves work in the kitchens. but i didn't realise that the food would just keep reappearing on the tables like that." y/n pouted thinking about her own house elves back home. "ribly would always snap into the room with the food, we didn't have advanced enough charms to have a connection from the kitchens."

grace raised her eyebrows at y/n openly talking about her family having a house elf that they made do chores in their house, not used to the purebloods of the wizarding world.

"oh, sorry. ribly is my personal house-elf. she's more like a nanny and maid than someone i own though. i've always hated that term. she's her own being, why should i own her, you know?" y/n rambled, spooning a portion of pavlova into the bowl that appeared in front of her.

"yeah." grace nodded unknowingly, not quite understanding the rules of owning a house-elf, coming from a mixed household that lived openly in the muggle world.

"you're not from the wizarding world are you?" y/n giggled, clearly seeing the confusion on the Irish girl's face.

"not fully. my dad's a muggle and mum's a witch." grace shrugs, spooning some apple crumbled onto her plate.

"oh, i have so much to explain to you." y/n almost squeals, happy to be able to share her wisdom on the inner workings of the wizarding world and the fantastic beasts within it.

james chuckled as he watched his sister ramble on at the blonde girl beside her, happy that she was making friends in her own house.

"she seems to be getting on well." sirius chuckled, having only ever seen the girl that excited about something when she was talking about the bowtruckle island that she was excited to visit when she attended hogwarts.

"yeah. she is." james smiled, proudly, winking at the girl when she turned to face him over her shoulder.

the two girls shuffled behind their fellow first years as the male prefect, tobias, called for them to follow him out of the great hall towards their dormitory. they walked towards the grand marble staircase that stood out against the castle's stone walls, descending them towards the basement. all around them, paintings came to life as they greeted the new first years and welcomed back the returning students. Isobel giggled as she saw a couple arguing in a painting high above before quickly smiling and waving at the students as they realised they were there. it reminded her of her parents who often bickered before realising the twins had entered the room.

"i still don't get how those paintings work." grace looked on in puzzlement, only having seen wizards photos and not paintings whilst at home.

"it's an enchantment. usually, it's just a replica of the person. but the really good ones are so accurate that they might as well be the person they painted." y/n waved at the friendly wizard who was watering the flowers in his painting as they passed.

"you know a lot about these things. are you secretly like a fourth-year?" grace chuckled.

"no, but i am meant to be a second year." y/n sighed, earning a questioning look from the ginger girl beside her. "it's a long story. but hey. i spent lots of time learning basically everything we're gonna be learning in some of our classes."

"that sounds like such a sad and boring life." grace stopped as they came to a halt before the hufflepuff dormitory.

"yeah," y/n admitted with a chuckle, knowing that her childhood had not exactly been the most fun or fulfilled of ones. "but it wasn't all boring. i got to learn about the magical creatures in the forbidden forest and even got to raise a family of nifflers that lived in my back garden."

grace could see the light returning into the eye, the same light she'd seen when she'd been explaining things about the wizard world at the dinner table. she realised that her new friend was unlike most witches or wizards in the magical world, already liking the fact she hadn't cast her out for not being pureblooded. or how she seemed to hold a deep wonder instead of fear towards all of the monstrous beasts she described to grace.

grace was so fascinated by y/n's descriptions of the thunderbird she had seen once on a visit to the americas, that she hadn't even realised the group had come to a halt in front of the entrance of their common room.

"i want all of you to watch me very closely. i will only be showing the password once and i won't be letting any stragglers into the common room who forget it." tobias winked at the first years, clearly only joking.

he tapped in a rhythm on the middle barrel two from the bottom, before stepping back to allow the lid to swing open and reveal a beaming light through the hole. he looked back once more at the new students before lowering his head and walking through the large gap in the wall, before beckoning the rest to follow through. y/n happily ran forward to be one of the first to enter the basement.

she looked around in wonder at the low-ceilinged room that had a faint yellow glow coming from the many lamps around the room. the walls were covered in vines of leaves that stretched all across the ceiling and out of the circular windows around the room.

the common room was alive with activity. there was a roaring fireplace in the corner of the room, surrounded by comfy-looking, overstuffed sofas that had a few older hufflepuffs already chatting away on. some gathered around a low wooden table playing wizarding chess, and others relaxed with books from the cosy nook that held a well-stocked library. the atmosphere was both lively and tranquil, a place where one could find solace and companionship after a long day of classes.

tobias led the small group of students towards where more stairs lead up to the first-year dormitories, directing the girls to the left and the boys to the right, giving a few giggling boys a hard glare as he reminded them, "i don't think professor sprout would be too pleased being woken in the middle of the night by the alarms that will be set off if we were to enter the girl's dormitories. do you?"

the boys simply lowered their heads sheepishly, before shuffling off to the right to find their dormitory rooms.

"right. i've got to head out for patrol duty soon, but do ask frank or greta if you need anything and they'll be sure to help you out." tobias grinned his pearly white smile before exiting the common room the same way they'd entered it.

y/n and grace shared an excited grin before they raced to find their new dormitories, already finding three other girls sitting and talking on one of the beds. the three girls had claimed one of the beds on the right as you entered the room, leaving the two on the left for the girls to claim.

"oh, hello." the ginger girl closest to them smiled, waving them over to join them on her bed. "i'm elysia. it's nice to meet you two."

"nice to meet you too, i'm y/n ." she beamed back, joining them on the bed as grace sat gingerly at the end of it.

"oh, we know who you are. you're, like, famous among the first years." the curly-haired girl giggled, having already heard many things about the girl from the older students. "i'm olivia."

y/n only grinned, turning her head to the final girl, who held a questioning look in her eyes.

"is it true you're meant to be a second year?" the final girl tilted her head, forgoing any introductions.

"uh, yes?" y/n asked, not understanding why the girl was questioning her.

"then why are you here? why aren't you with the other second years?" she mocked, already knowing the truth but wanting to hear it from the potter girl. "are you dumb? did dumbledore think you were too stupid to be with people your own age?"

"i was sick, but I'm much better now." y/n grinned, earning a smile from all but one of the girls. "but i did get taught like everyone else, so, no. i'm not dumb."

"you clearly are if someone as powerful and smart as dumbledore put you here." the unnamed girl stood from her bed. "i'm going to go down to the common room. see you later, potter."

"don't mind, emilia. she's just jealous that you stole her thunder." olivia smiled reassuringly after the brunette girl had left the dorm. "her family comes from a long line of hufflepuffs, from helga hufflepuff herself. but having a potter in the house instead? merlin, did you steal any attention she could've got."

"oh, i didn't mean to steal anyone's thunder." y/n pouted, upset that she'd already made a partial enemy. "but that's super cool about her being descended from hufflepuff herself. my family's just some people who were in gryffindor."

"at least your parents are actually wizards. i had to learn everything from some sixth-year i met on the platform." elysia chuckled, earning a giggle from the other girls.

"well, i'm sure we all have lots to learn whilst we're here." olivia grinned, picking up her muggle clothes from the end of the bed. "we're gonna change and then head down to the common room. do you want to join us, potter?"

"sure. let me get changed as well." y/n grinned, running to get her own clothes from the top of her trunk.

the four girls grinned as they ran back down the stairs from their dormitory and joined the first-year boys who were crowded around the two older students who were playing a game of wizard chess. y/n smiled as she felt the community that she was already being welcomed into within the hufflepuff common room, finally able to be a part of something for the first time in her life.