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cherrixpie · 6 months ago

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NEMESIS

part one of five

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. shame that he was just so intriguing.

↬ sfw; wc: 5.6k; cw: mentions of blood and death; tags: enemies to lovers; gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader

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The minute Snape set foot in the defense against the dark arts classroom, all whispers and conversations between students fell silent. His cloak billowed out in his wake as he approached the front, glaring at any student who dared look up at him. His hard eyes wandered over the rows and narrowed when they reached the table you and Hermoine sat at, next to you two free seats. Harry and Ron were late, and you gnawed at your lower lip in worry. Their last subject had been divination, which neither you nor Hermoine had taken, and you hadn't seen them since breakfast. Judging by his scowl, Snape would skin them for being late.

When Snape walked up to the chalk board, turning his back to the class, Hermoine leaned over and breathed in your ear: “Nott and Riddle aren't here yet either.” She was right. As your gaze brushed over the Slytherins on the other side of the room, you spotted two empty seats next to Malfoy that were usually occupied by Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle. Not that you missed the two, but their absence made anxiety curl in your stomach. Could it be linked to Harry’s and Ron’s nonattendance?

“Eyes on front,” Snape’s voice bellowed through the classroom and you flinched, returning your focus to the lesson. But just as you pulled out your parchment, quill and ink to copy the notes from the chalk board, the door burst open and all heads turned in a singular motion. The four missing boys stood in the entrance, albeit standing in pairs demonstrating visible hostility.

All of them looked like they had just fought a rabid pack of grindelows. Hair disheveled, some of their noses bleeding, Riddle’s knuckles were leaking blood and a purple bruise formed on Harry’s right cheek, Ron’s face was littered in cuts. Nott looked the least brutalized out of all of them, and the most annoyed. Everyone was staring, you and Hermoine included. The four of them heaved as if they had ran all the way up here, and Ron held his book back with both hands that seemed to be dissolving in real time, his face as red with fury when Malfoys voice drawled through the room. “My, my, Weasley, that bag must've been worth more than your mum!”

Before Ron could throw an insult back at him, Snape’s voice cut through the room, almost shaking with ire. “You're late. Twenty points from Gryffindor. Sit down!”

“What?” Ron asked in indignation and Snape's lips curled. “But, Professor, they were just as late as-”

“Sit down, Weasley, before I take fifty points from your house,” said Snape coolly and Harry pulled Ron along the rows to your table. Riddle and Nott sat down on their seats, just as the two slumped down next to you. The commotion was silenced by one look from Snape who now proceeded to scribble down the effects of the counter-curse you would learn today. Half your attention on your notes, you leaned over to the boys, just like Hermoine, with a questioning look. “What the hell happened?”

“Riddle fucking happened,” spat Ron under his breath. “He-” Suddenly, he broke off and looked at Harry, as though it had just dawned on him that Harry might not like to share whatever Riddle had said or done. Harry rolled his eyes. “He started talking shit about my parents.”

“He did not,” whispered Hermoine in shock, though you weren't quite sure why she was so surprised. Harry and Riddle had gotten into fights before. One time, they were started by Riddle going on about Harry’s dead parents, the other because Harry provoked him using his parentage.

It was a tale as old as time, and though you thought it was objectively worse of Riddle to be insulting Harry’s parents than the other way around, it didn't change the fact that a brawl between the two was a near monthly occurrence, with their friends joining in. Sometimes, they were each backed up by all their male housemates of their grade (last year, the whole male seventh year population of Gryffindor and Slytherin had to do detention together and it certainly didn't warm them up to each other), sometimes it was just Ron and Nott, sometimes it was one v one.

Harry shrugged her indignation off, he seemed less furious than Ron who was positively shaking with rage. “Whatever. I was just stupid to go off again, I should know his tricks by now.” Ron looked like he wanted to reply something, but just then, a shadow loomed over you and Snape's voice drawled. “Do you want to share anything with the class, Potter?”

Neither of you four spoke, and Snape seemed to take it as an invitation to inflict further punishment upon you. His spiteful eyes trailed over the four of you as he sneered. “I think I will put an end to this chit chat. Potter, you go and sit with Mr. Malfoy. Hermoine, over there with Miss Parkinson; Weasley, with Mr. Nott and you,” his eyes glanced over you swiftly, “go sit with Mr. Riddle. Go.” You hastily stuffed your quill and parchment into your bag, smiled at Hermoine, who gave you a worried look, and walked over to Riddle with a hammering heart. With him. God protect you.

Mattheo Riddle lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, his posture a calculated mix of arrogance and nonchalance that made him look untouchable, even in disarray. The faint trickle of dried blood at his temple and the faint purpling of a bruise along his jawline should have diminished him, but instead, they only sharpened his edge. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of pale skin marred by faint scars-trophies from fights he never seemed to avoid.

He didn't glance up as you approached, but the lazy, almost wolfish curve of his mouth suggested he knew you weee there. Something about the way his dark curls fell over his brow, paired with the faint metallic glint of the blood on his knuckles, made him seem both reckless and untamed, like a storm that brewed until it would inevitably destroy everything in its path.

Your anxiety only worsened when Riddle raised his head lazily and looked at your approaching figure. He had a cut on his nose that was still bleeding, and his eyes brushed over you with unmistakable disdain. Slowly, blood seeped down his hand and onto his parchment. You stared at the red dots as you stood in front of him, unsure what to do, frozen under his heavy stare. Until he scoffed and averted his eyes. “Merlin, you’re as slow as you are annoying. What's wrong, scared I'll bite? Don’t worry, sitting next to me won’t tarnish your perfect little Gryffindor reputation. Sit.”

Without a word, you finally managed to move your feet and rounded the table to sit down on the chair next to him with the utmost care, as if the slightest motion could tip him off. Was it riddiculous? Possibly. Were you keen on taking chances? No. You sat in silence as you got out your ink and quill and started scribbling on your parchment, head ducked over the paper and hair falling, thankfully, between the two of you like a curtain. A whole hour of sitting next to the ticking time bomb Mattheo Riddle. You were glad that your fingers weren't shaking as they flew over the parchment, leaving a trail of ink in their wake.

You couldn't have been more thankful for the silence, but Riddle seemed bored. You heard him shift in his chair, bounce his leg, and then, you heard his voice.

“Didn't think you Gryffindors scared so easily. Or is that just you?” Though you were sure he had noticed, Snape made no efforts to discipline Riddle for his insubordination. Of course not. But you knew, if you talked back at him, you would earn another ten points being taken from your house. And in any case, you weren't one to be provoked easily, and you weren't about to risk him hearing your voice shake, as it may have, if you'd opened your mouth. So you scribbled on in silence as Snape got up to demonstrate the wand movement.

“You're quiet for once,” whispered Riddle’s voice, closer than you expected, and you couldn't suppress the little flinch away from him. He chuckled darkly. “What happened?” he asked with the unmistakable sound of a predator circling its prey. “Lost your nerve, princess?”

When you looked up, away from him, your eyes met Hermoine who looked concerned. Barely moving, you shook your head and forced a smile upon your lips. This would be a long hour. You could tell from the tone in his voice that he would have his proper fun, would toy with you. Every instinct told you to fire back, but you called yourself to discipline. This was not the time. And if you would have been willing to start a fight, it would be highly unwise to take on Mattheo Riddle.

When Pansy Parkinson sniggered next to Hermoine, she averted her gaze and rolled her eyes, and you, too, looked back down onto the parchment. You should take notes on the wand movement. You would have, if it hadn't been for Riddle, leaning in once more. You were sure that, on the other side of the curtain, he was almost brushing your hair with his lips. It was silly, but his proximity made you blush. “Go on,” he prodded, “say something Gryffindor-y and self-righteous. Isn't that you speciality?”

“You will now pair up with your desk partners,” Snape’s voice sounded through the classroom, “and practice this jinx. If it has the intended effect, it should merely push your partner away a few feet. Finnigan, I would book an appointment in the hospital wing, I wouldn't trust Longbottom not to throw you out the window. If I see anyone taking advantage of this opportunity to right a perceived wrong,” he sneered, looking particularly at Harry and Ron who both scowled back, “they shall feel my wrath.”

Oh god. You had naively forgotten that this might happen. Let Riddle hex you? You should probably just hex yourself and be done with it. You sent him a quick glance as you rose from your seat and Snape piled up all desks at the wall to make space. If you hadn't known better, you could have thought that he was bored. But you saw the glint in his eyes as he met your gaze with his brown eyes. For a strange second, it flashed through your mind that he had surprisingly pretty eyes for- well, someone who's father was he-who-must-not-be-named.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” he drawled mockingly and that irked you more than any of his comments had. You were very proud of your academic achievements, and you couldn't help but glare at the floor when you averted your eyes. You’d show him. Riddle whistled under his breath as you stood upright and raised your wand the proper way. “Look at you, all brave and noble, even in the face of the ‘Dark Lord’s Son’”

He was mocking you, and you found yourself wishing he'd just get in with hexing you instead. “If you're just going to yap all day, I'll do it first,” you said coolly, making him laugh. It was a strange sound, because you had never heard someone laugh so devoid of any warmth. Maybe nobody had ever taught him that laughs were supposed to signal happiness.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice. “Show me all about the ‘bravery’ you lot talk about.”

Gripping your wand tighter, you understood it as an encouragement to use the spell on him first. You could just say the incarnation. Just swing your wand. You could do it. “Discedo!” Your pronunciation was perfect, your aim was right, the movement of your wand mirrored Snape's as you concentrated hard. And, to your silent triumph, Riddle was nearly knocked off his feet as he was pushed back and stumbled a few feet, dangerously close to the fireplace. Just as described, you had done it correctly and for some strange reason, you awaited his praise.

Even more surprising was that you received it. “Nice one, princess,” Riddle called and walzed back to you with a lazy grin as if he hadn't just nearly crushed into a burning fire. If you thought about it, you weren't even sure he'd mind that. You'd watched him dislocate his arm in a brawl and crack it back in place without so much as a wince or a frown. Sometimes you thought he couldn't feel pain, but that was impossible. Maybe he liked it. It would suit him, you thought.

Over your spiraling thoughts, you nearly missed the almost gentle way he pulled his wand out of his pocket, much more tender than you had ever seen him regard a living being. You suppressed the urge to take a step back when he pointed it at you, determined not to show fear. Also, you were already in enough danger to smash into the wall behind you as it was. “Your friends seem worried,” Riddle grinned and you were momentarily distracted as you caught Harry’s frown and Hermoine's worried expression. Ron was too busy being pushed around the room by Nott who seemed bored out of his mind.

“Do you ever stop talking?” you snapped and were surprised by your own daring. “Just cast the damn jinx and get it over with!” Riddle raised his brows and you could have slapped yourself. Great idea, challenging him when he was pointing a wand at you and you were not allowed to use yours. Riddle seemed mostly amused, though, twirling his wand around in his hand as if he was contemplating something. Probably, how hard he would smash you into that wall. If Mattheo Riddle was good at one thing, it was cursing people.

Finally, he raised his hand, not even mouthing the spell, that show-off. You shielded yourself for the impact of the wall, but suddenly, a force, not unlike a giant hand or a strong gust of wind, pushed you, not backwards- but forward. Instead of crashing into the wall, you found yourself stumbling helplessly into the arms of Mattheo Riddle himself, who caught you, circled one arm around your waist and gave you the most innocent of expressions. “Oops, my bad, princess.”

For some reason, you blushed. Maybe because he was so close to you you could have wiped the dried blood off his face. Or maybe it was the hand on your waist, encircled by your arm, touching his. His hands felt larger than you had expected and he buried his fingers in your robes, crooking his head at you with a sly grin. No doubt, he was trying to measure your reaction, read it off your face in all damming detail. If it hadn't been the classroom, you would have looked like you were about to kiss. His relaxed smirk was infuriating. "Come on, princess, you know you can't resist me."

Shaking him off, you took a few steps back, legs tingling from the jinx. No way that hadn't been intentional. You should probably be angry, but you were more so glad you hadn't crashed into a wall. But just when you were about to raise your wand once more, Snape’s harsh “WANDS DOWN” had you retract. You all were dismissed with one wave of his hand and you hurried over to your book bag. You had never wanted to escape a room this quickly.

To your annoyance, Riddle leaned down for his bag right alongside you and you made haste to bring some distance between the two of you. Again, your caution seemed to be of his amusement, because he chuckled coolly. “What, afraid you’ll catch something? 'M not contagious.” Without an answer, you pushed past him, making a beeline towards the doors and were the first one out. Only when you had walked two corridors, you could take a moment to breathe out.

“You’re alive!” called Ron in mock surprise when you joined the others in the common room a few minutes later. Laughing, albeit weakly, you slumped down into the seat next to him by the fire. Harry and Hermoine looked up and Hermoine’s eyes scanned your form as if she was looking for signs of harm. “Blimey,” sighed Ron, “I thought for sure he'd jinx you into next week.”

“Me too,” you said, rubbing your temples. The frown on Hermoine's face deepened. “It's not funny,” she suddenly snapped, catching all of you by surprise with her fervor. “This could have ended badly! And what do we learn from that?” She asked sternly and Ron raised his hands in surrender. “No talking in class.”

“It's alright, Hermoine,” you said, smiling at her. It was touching how protective your friends were. “Riddle didn't do anything to me, did he? And I was part of that conversation, it's as much my fault as it is Ron's.”

“You should be worried about me, Hermoine!” Ron chimed in and rubbed his shoulder that seemed to be sore. “Do you have any idea into how many bookshelves and walls I crashed today? Nott’s a real piece of shit, I didn't even get to jinx him back!”

“Well, Pansy Parkinson didn't even have time to raise her wand at me,” said Hermoine with an air of superiority, and Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, she isn't much of an academic weapon, is she? Other than you.” Hermoine, who had just looked determined to snap at him once more, seemed somewhat dumbfounded by the sudden complement. To your surprise, she even seemed to blush a little in the dim light of the fireplace.

“Why was Riddle even looming over you like that?” Harry asked through the silence. “I mean… what were you talking about?” Ron and Hermoine, both a little red in the face, turned to look at you as well.

“He talked, I didn't,” you shrugged, for some reason feeling like you had to vindicate yourself. “He was a real chatterbox, I think he just wanted to get a rise out of me.” And he had, you suddenly realized. Damn.

“You handled yourself really well,” said Hermoine and Ron nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he grinned, “If you could've only pushed Riddle a few feet further back, you'd have set him on fire, how cool would that have been?” He laughed at the idea and even Hermoine smiled a little.

“Wouldn't want to kick off his tragic backstory villain arc,” you grinned and Ron snorted. “Lost case, I'm telling you.”

Shaking your head with a small smile, you watched Ron combust with laughter. Both Harry and Hermoine chuckled, but mostly at Ron’s amusement over his own joke. After that, the conversation trailed off towards school work. Harry and Ron were indignant at Hermoine for already conceptualizing NEWT revision tables when it hadn't even snowed yet, with Ron promising her that he would not touch a textbook until they had beaten the Slytherins at the next quidditch game, the first of the season. When they started to bicker as usual, you started to drown their voices out and you gazed into the fire, lost in thought.

The first time you'd seen Mattheo Riddle had been on your first day in Hogwarts. You'd been scared and jumpy the whole time, the castle intimidated you, the magic astounded you, but at the same time, you felt like an outsider, unworthy of such a royal institution. When you'd been waiting for the hat to call your name, you'd been half expecting to be forgotten, a confirmation that you just weren't good enough. Your worries had been momentarily shunted to the back of your head when another name was called, “Riddle, Mattheo”, and a collective whisper, in its entirety as loud as a yell, had rolled over the hall.

At that point, you had never heard the name Riddle, nor had you the name Voldemort. Blissfully unaware, you'd never even heard of the wizarding war before, the dark times. The only time you'd been in touch with magic before was in diagon alley, but you'd met barely any wizards before. Maybe you had been the only student in the gaggle of them who didn't know what dark a legacy he carried.

What you did notice was more so the way he carried himself. Even at the young age of eleven, he had a kind of untouchable confidence about him. He seemed to be entirely detached from the nerves that coiled so prominently in your belly. Only regarding his fellow, whispering students and the professor with a defiant look, he planted the hat upon his head that disappeared almost in it's entirety inside it. In retrospective, you had wondered why the hat hadn't immediately shouted out Slytherin, seeing as Riddle was one through and through, and the house’s founder’s heir on top of that.

After a while - the whispers had turned into a steady, ever growing buzzing of curious and hostile voices. Safe to say you had been beyond confused and had leaned over to ask the girl next to you why everyone was reacting like this- the name had sounded utterly inoffensive to your innocent ears. But before you could ask her, the hat shouted out “SLYTHERIN” and the boy ripped it off abruptly to stomp over to the Slytherin table, glaring at anyone he passed. They whispered behind his back, and back then, you'd thought 'how can they do this? He hasn't done anything!’. You hated making people feel unwelcome. Of course, you'd learn that Riddle was an expert in that regard himself.

When you now thought back to that, you wondered wether he could have been saved from whatever pipeline he was currently diving into, getting into fights, supposedly even torturing people and, though you took those rumors with a grain of salt, even killing student’s pets. But maybe he'd always been as detached and dark as he was now. At your first Halloween feast in Hogwarts, the evening a troll had sent the school into a panic, he'd caught your eye. As students around him shrieked in fear and stumbled over their own feet trying to escape, he had been eating cake and watching the panicked students as if they were unconvincing extras in a mildly interesting stage play. He'd even grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets, as if it was all beneath him.

Then, in second year, everyone had assumed him to be Slytherin’s heir. It didn't seem to bother him very much, maybe he was even proud. Like all the muggleborns, you'd done your very best to steer clear of him, but your friendship to Harry made it harder since they were constantly at each other’s throats. You'd cried once when you overheard him tell his friends that “at least the monster had good taste”, you'd always wanted everyone to like you and though you had already accepted that some people simply wouldn't, it hurt that anyone could be reveling in the idea of you or your friends being attacked by a monster.

Not that he was any kinder to his own friends, or at least outwardly he wasn't. When Malfoy had gotten attacked by buckbeak in third year, he'd simply watched and laughed, something thirteen year old you found utterly disgusting, even though you detested Malfoy.

As unlikely as it sounded, fourth year was the first time you talked to him- or rather, bickered with him. When Harry had been fighting the Hungarian Horntail and you and Hermoine had been at the edge of your seats, frozen with fear and worry, the Slytherins had come along and Riddle had made a comment about how he would be far more entertained if the Tournament would have some death in it again. For a moment, you'd forgotten how scared you were of him.

Though you weren't what people would call “heroic” or “brave”, in spite of your house, you tended to lose your temper when it came to your friends. That day, you had, when you'd shot around to shriek at Riddle what the fuck was wrong with him, aghast how he could even say something like that. But just when Riddle's eyes flickered over you as if he'd just noticed you for the first time (he probably had), Harry got the egg and you were distracted from him. In spite of what he had said, though, when Harry turned up after the third task with Cedric's body, he'd been pale as a sheet as he stared down at the dead boy. Not so happy that a champion was dead now, after all.

Fifth year was when he started to pick on you. It was also the year he started getting into fights. Actual fights. Of course, there had been smaller brawls before, immature duels, but there was an edge to him when he returned to Hogwarts that year. He was more serious, and most importantly, more angry. A student laughing too loud was enough to set him off on a bad day, and once he was, there would be blood. A lot of it. It became a weekly occurrence to see him walking into classrooms with a bloodied shirt or nose, or cuts and bruises on his face and hands. Fifth year was when even some of the teachers started getting scared of him.

Other than any other year, Riddle had stayed in Hogwarts for the Holidays in sixth year. It only stood out to you because most people went home to see their families, wanting to be close in times of uncertainty. And because of that one morning, when you'd taken a walk around the black lake and spotted him, standing in the cold without so much as a cloak and staring into space with a distant expression. It was the first time in years he'd looked human, and you had found yourself staring until he turned his head and snapped at you.

In seventh year, you had been assigned to prefect patrols with each other for a few disastrous days. Each night, you'd stumbled into your common room, burned out from the stress it caused you to be near him. To be subjected to his cunning comments that drove you over the edge, with him having a front seat. It was probably good fun for him. Out of pure boredom, he had amused himself with you. And he'd won, kind of, when you begged McGonnagall to reassign you after a mere week, which she did. Maybe you had been imagining things, but he had been strangely more hostile to you since then, as if it had actually bothered him.

Now, in your eighth and final year, staring mindlessly into the flames, you found yourself wondering wether he'd ever had a chance to be anything else than he was right now. Or rather, anyone else. With him, you found yourself thinking of him as a thing rather than a person more often than you'd liked to admit. Maybe because he didn't seem very human. If the times and environments had been different, maybe he'd have been, too. But, you reminded yourself, he was still him, and you were still you.

Maybe some diety had listened to your tired sermon the previous night, or maybe it was mere coincidence. It could also be your stupidity. But the next day, you found yourself assigned detention with Riddle himself. You had to recognize that pulling your wand at Malfoy and him in full sight of any professor who might turn the corner was a little stupid, but the others somehow never got caught doing it. You, on the other hand…

You had been on your way to the library after dinner the next day, on your own since your friends were already on their way to the common room. Maybe some backup would’ve been good, but you were quite glad none of them heard the words that left Malfoy’s mouth when he passed you in the halls, talking loudly to Riddle. “Granger may be smart, but brains won't save her when the Dark Lord finally catches up to her.” Your head had shot up from the parchment you had been buried in and you stuffed it into your bag, accelerating your steps, a white hot anger stirring inside you. But Malfoy wasn't finished yet. “Honestly,” he drawled, gesticulating vaguely, “It'd be poetic, wouldn't it? The little mudblood trying to stand up to a Death Eater and getting exactly what she deserves.”

He didn't have the chance to say anything further, because your newly learned discedo jinx made him stumble backwards and knock into the wall. Before he could even realize what happened, you sent a silent disarming charm his way and his wand flew in another direction. You were momentarily stunned by your own skill as you watched Malfoy's face go red with anger, but when he leaped from the wall, you pointed your wand at his chest, rage burning inside you and wiping away any concerns about school rules that you followed so adamantly other days.

Malfoy opened his mouth, no doubt to insult you, but you got ahead of him. “You think saying something cruel makes you clever, Malfoy?” you spat at him. “You're really proud of being a terrible person, are you?” Malfoy broke out into a cackle that was silenced by your wand now pressing into his chest. You felt tempted to bombarda maxima his head off, and the fact that you did scared you a little, but it couldn't quell the fire in your chest.

“Wh- do something!” Draco hissed nervously at Riddle who was watching the scene, just like the small crowd that had assembled around you.

A wild laugh escaped you. “You fucking coward. Do you think saying stuff like that is funny? No wonder no one respects you!”

An utterly unexpected sound made both you and Malfoy freeze, though the latter didn't have much of a choice, with your wand still pointed at his chest. Riddle was laughing. Well, not really. It was more of a chuckle. His eyes were locked on you, shimmering with… intrigue? Aghast, you stared at him and your anger welled up once more. This was funny to him, yes? Well, if he didn't have anyone to stand up for, sucks for him. But your healthy dose of respect for Mattheo Riddle made you bite back the reply, merely purse your lips together and turn back to Malfoy, who seemed to have found his voice again.

“It's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord wipes out your little group of do-gooders,” he snarled in your face. “Should be quite the spectacle.”

“Crawl in a hole and die, Malfoy,” you growled, starting to feel a little stupid with your wand pointed at him purposelessly.

“Let's end this party here, princess, don't you think?”

His voice had you turn around slowly. Riddle's wand was pointed lazily at you, as if he were merely twirling it in his fingers. But you knew better. Every movement was deliberate. His wand was pointed at you on purpose. He exuded the aura of a calm before the storm, a small smile danced around his lips. He had this way of making everything into his entertainment. But you wouldn't lie, his wand and his eyes had a definite shiver run up your spine.

“What on earth is going on here?”

You shot around when Professor McGonnagall’s voice bellowed through the hallway and jumped back. The scene she saw was not ideal, with both Mattheo's and your wand pulled as if you were about to duel. Which was strictly forbidden in an uncontrolled environment like this. Not that you'd ever be stupid enough to duel Mattheo Riddle. When the Professor approached, you saw her heaving chest and dread filled your stomach, you wished desperately to be anywhere but here. It was important to you to be liked by teachers, especially McGonnagall, who you’d always looked up to.

“I don't want to believe this,” said Professor McGonnagall, enraged. “Miss y/n, Mr Riddle, detention.” She turned to you and wrinkled her nose. “This is disappointing. I would've expected better from you, especially.”

Mattheo knew he should have been groaning about the detention, but he was busy wondered why you didn't try to defend yourself. Try to tell McGonnagall how Malfoy had provoked you. A crowd of eyewitnesses could have confirmed the story, and McGonnagall surely wouldn't take kindly to threats against her favorite student. But when he looked back at you, the look on your face surprised him. You looked absolutely mortified, he wondered for a second if you would start to cry. But you merely lowered your head and pulled your wand away. McGonnagall gave you a sinister glare. By the look on your face, she could just as well have hit you with the cruciatus curse.

“Pathetic,” whispered Malfoy in his ear, but he couldn't quite agree. It was intriguing. Why did it matter so much to you what fucking McGonnagall thought? He realized, of course, that he was more indifferent of teacher’s perceptions of him than other students, but you looked as if you were facing the death penalty.

Seemingly unable to watch this trainwreck further, a Hufflepuff sixth year spoke up on your behalf. “Please, Professor, Malfoy said some awful things about Hermoine Granger.” Malfoy's grin faltered when McGonnagall looked at him, a wave of affirming murmurs confirming the story to her. “The detention will be extended to you as well, then,” she said coolly and strode off, still positively fuming. Mattheo wanted to catch you before you could slip away, though he wasn't sure what for. Maybe he could tease you, rile you up, that was always good fun. And more than that, he wanted to find out why you had reacted so strongly to McGonnagall’s words.

But you were gone, had made a break for it when McGonnagall had left, no trace of you left. When they kept walking, he drowned out Draco's rants as he thought back to your face when McGonnagall had caught you coming close to jinxing Malfoy (which he found to be hotter than he ever thought he would). There was quite the lioness hidden in you, when provoked. His previous quips at you had usually been met with faux indifference and even fear. Good to know even you, sweet, goody-two-shoes you had a darker side about you. He wouldn't deny that he felt tempted to see it again.

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persephone-writes · 7 months ago

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A Diviner's Guide to James Potter: Series Masterlist

(ongoing) - read on ao3

Description: Being friends with Lily Evans was difficult when you were head over heels for her ex-boyfriend, James. Your problems are only made worse when you begin receiving strange omens that point to a less than desirable future.

Genre: Friends to lovers, slow burn (I mean it!), fluff & angst.

Rating: Teen (swearing, alcohol/weed/cigarettes, no smut). More detailed warnings for the whole fic can be found on Chapter One.

Series Word Count (so far): 199.1k

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Chapter One: The Omen

You tell your friends about your odd findings while working on your most recent Divination assignment, all while trying to push away your growing feelings for James

Chapter Two: The Heart Wants What it Wants

Answers to your predicament are few and far between when Sirius gets a letter from his parents and the Gryffindor quidditch team receives some excellent news.

Chapter Three: Wicked and Wayward

Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff in the fourth match of the season, complete with an eventful after party.

Chapter Four: Paranoid

Hogsmeade is fun, but not when Sirius dangles a dangerous secret right in front of your nose.

Chapter Five: The Blizzard

A late winter storm buries Hogwarts in piles of snow, causing James to grow increasingly restless. It also blows in a much needed answer.

Chapter Six: Portraits Talk

Sirius attempts to quell your anger, though the pressure of acting aloof threatens to topple you.

Chapter Seven: Communing with Nature

You receive another omen which points to nothing good, though James is always there to help ease your mind.

Chapter Eight: The Duel

Mulciber becomes a looming threat to you and your friends, only increasing your existing anxieties.

Chapter Nine: Red and Gold

Old insecurities are brought to the surface, but James attempts to reassure you with the promise of a fun weekend.

Chapter Ten: Scurrilous Scoundrel

A night of firewhiskey, dancing, and racing hearts is unfortunately cut short when you stumble across eerie meeting.

Chapter Eleven: The Hour Struck Nine

Tensions between you and James run high when you, Peter, and Marlene return to the RoR.

Chapter Twelve: Discontent

After nearly seven years, you finally make it into Dumbledore’s office, though this does little to ease your growing nerves, especially when it comes to James.

Chapter Thirteen: A Lovely Shade of Turquoise

James forces you to talk about what happened, opening up a can of worms you wish you could charm back in.

Chapter Fourteen: The Stars Can Speak

After your fight with James, you're left entirely unsure how to act. However, your friends, and the stars, have some (un)helpful suggestions.

Chapter Fifteen: Repairo

Two diverging paths are presented to you: avoidance or intuition. Which one will you choose?

Chapter Sixteen: The Chaste Moon

The full moon comes just before Easter, fostering a time of rebirth and renewal…among other things.

Chapter Seventeen: An Invitation

You and the others search for answers regarding the return of your nefarious classmates.

Chapter Eighteen: Innamorati

Presents, dueling practice, and parties, oh my!

Chapter Nineteen: Yours, James

You and James are forced to deal with the highly eventful nature of Saturday night.

Chapter Twenty: And Then There Was You

You learn more about James's former pining, realizing there is less to fear than you initially thought.

Chapter Twenty-One: Severus' Story

It seems as though the past always has a way of catching up with you (and everyone else around you), even if Quattlebaum has hopes for your future.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Tears

Still reeling with your discoveries, you're left to deal with the aftermath.

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hourglass

You try your best to help Sirius with his brother, even if it means trusting your abilities in Divination more than ever before.

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Cliff Worth Plummeting

You have an interesting run-in with Peeves, forcing you to confront the inevitable.

Chapter Twenty-Five: I Know

You have a run in with an odious adversary, reminding you that your problems may not end at graduation.

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Black Lake

It seems as though months of secrets, omens, and animosity is coming to fruition, swirling in a storm above Hogwarts.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Wonderful Accident

A tough conversation awaits, as does some unexpected perks of winning a duel against a dastardly opponent.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Daily Prophet

You are going to have to start getting used to more attention, and fast.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dreams

The true meaning of your dreams are up for debate, putting your relationship with James, and your sanity, in peril.

Chapter Thirty: A Query for Quattlebaum

Quattlebaum's answers close one door and open another, forcing you to question everything you know about yourself.

Chapter Thirty-One: Maelstrom

Something strange occurs during Divination just three days before the final quidditch match of the season.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Brothers

Quattlebaum's methods are questionable at best, though things still seem to be looking up after all.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Coming Soon!

•-—✼.o○☆———☆○o.✼.o○☆———☆○o.✼—-•

Antique book cover credits:

The Deer-Parks and Paddocks of England by Joseph Whitaker, Captain Courtesy by Edward Childs Carpenter & Goldfish Varieties and Tropical Aquarium Fishes; a Complete Guide to Aquaria and Related Subjects by William T. Innes

#figured I’d make a separate masterlist #Should have done this at the beginning but not making masterlists seems like a common theme with me #james potter x reader #james potter/reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter #marauders era #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter series #marauders fandom

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bradleysass · 3 months ago

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fit - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 561

James Potter was lying upside down on the Gryffindor common room couch, feet hooked over the backrest, head dangling off the edge, watching Regulus Black read. He’d been in this position for a solid twenty minutes, and so far, Regulus had only glanced at him twice. This was unacceptable.

Regulus, perfectly composed despite the chaos of the room around him, was settled in the armchair across from him, book in hand, fingers lazily turning the pages as if James’ ridiculous antics weren’t happening directly in front of him. The fire crackled softly in the background, an almost domestic scene—if not for the fact that James was currently considering one of his greatest experiments yet.

“I have a question,” James announced, swinging slightly so his hair nearly brushed the floor.

Regulus hummed, still not looking up. “Do I want to hear it?”

“If we could tempt Peter with cheese, do you think he’d fit inside a tiny box?”

Regulus’ book lowered just enough to reveal his unimpressed stare. “Are you asking me if we can trap your best friend in a box?”

“Tiny box,” James corrected, lifting a finger as if this was an important distinction. “Think about it. He turns into a rat. Rats like cheese. We put cheese in a very small box, he crawls in, we close the lid.”

Regulus blinked at him, expression utterly devoid of amusement. “Why?”

James grinned. “For science.”

Regulus let out a long breath and returned to his book. “I worry about you.”

“I think it’s a valid experiment.”

“You also thought it was a valid experiment to see if you could stick all ten Chocolate Frog cards to your face and walk around like normal.”

James gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “That was a success.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

“Are you actually going to test this on Pettigrew, or was this just another one of your fleeting thoughts I have to suffer through?”

James considered it, then rolled onto his stomach, nearly toppling off the couch in the process. “I dunno. Maybe. I mean, it’s not like we’d leave him in there forever. Just… long enough to prove a point.”

Regulus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And what point would that be?”

“That we can do it.”

Regulus muttered something under his breath about regretting his life choices. Before he could follow up with a scathing remark, a loud crash echoed through the common room, causing both of them to snap their heads toward the noise.

Barty Crouch Jr. stood over what had once been a perfectly good chair, now in pieces on the floor. Evan Rosier, looking neither impressed nor surprised, stared at him with mild exasperation.

Barty dusted off his hands as if he had just performed a noble feat. “Chairs are flimsy.”

“They are when you throw them,” Evan drawled, arms crossed.

“I had to test its durability,” Barty said, completely unbothered. “For science.”

James sat up, pointing at him. “See! Barty gets it.”

Regulus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I think I need new friends.”

James beamed at him, shifting across the couch to flop his head into Regulus’ lap. “Too late, love. You’re stuck with us.”

Regulus groaned, but he didn’t push James away. Instead, he absentmindedly ran his fingers through James’ hair as he turned the page of his book.

#marauders #jeggyverse microfic #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #microfic #barty crouch jr #evan rosier

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 months ago

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February Feelings - Sirius Black X Female Reader

Title: February Feelings

Sirius Black X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Lily, Remus, James, Peter (Mentioned), and McGonagall (Mentioned)

Requested By: Anon! Barley (I'm sorry for the wait!)

WC: 4,947

Warnings: Teasing, banter, flirting, cursing, nicknames, friends to lovers, obliviousness, insecurities, italics, confession, no specific house mentioned, mini angst, and fluff

It was a well-known fact that Sirius Black and Y/N L/N were inseparable, but it was also a well-known fact that they couldn’t go five minutes without making everyone uncomfortable with the kind of tension that belonged in a romance novel rather than the Gryffindor Common Room.

James had a running bet with Lily on when they’d finally crack. He said before Christmas; she said before spring break. Remus, ever the quiet observer, simply sighed every time Sirius called Y/N “my love” with that infuriating smirk, just to see her roll her eyes and call him a “fleabag.”

Peter had tried to stay neutral. He really had, but even he had taken to keeping a tally in the back of his Potions notebook of every time Y/N touched Sirius’s arm for no reason. The count for the day was at seventeen. Or maybe twenty. He’d lost track somewhere between Charms and Divination.

Hell, the Marauders were sure that everyone else in Hogwarts knew about Sirius and Y/N - except Sirius and Y/N.

You and Sirius were best friends. Of course you were. You just didn’t act like it - unless your definition of best friendship included constant bickering, long stares that lingered too long to be casual, and a silent, stubborn refusal to acknowledge whatever the hell was going on between the two of you.

Another thing, you were both ridiculously touchy. You’d steal his scarf when you were cold, he’d throw an arm around her shoulders, and your fingers brushing constantly - passing quills, books, and firewhiskey at parties. Not to mention all the times you were always sitting way too close to one another on the Common Room couch with your legs tangled together or all the times you’d play with the ends of Siris’ hair absentmindedly during study sessions. And don’t even get James started on all times he’d notice Sirius resting his hand on your knee. It’s been three years of dealing with this. And honestly? At this point, James was ready to lock you both in a broom cupboard and be done with it.

Flipping through your notebook, you gradually made your way to the Great Hall for lunch, eyes scanning the notes you’d scribbled in Charms earlier. You weren’t too worried about running into anything or anyone. Years of reading while walking had made you practically an expert in dodging people without looking up.

You were silently mouthing the incantation to a charm, repeating it over and over in your head, when a familiar arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you into their side. You didn’t need to look up; you already knew exactly who it was.

“There she is,” He said, voice warm and smooth as he bent down slightly to press a quick kiss to the top of your head.

You bit back a smile. Well, you tried to, anyway. It slipped through, however, traitorous and soft as your eyes raised from your notes to meet his.

“Hello, Siri,” You said back, slipping your notebook into your satchel as you spoke. You didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around his waist, fitting perfectly into the space he made for you.

Sirius grinned down at you, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "And how is my favorite girl today?" He asked, his voice light and teasing.

You let out a huff, raising an eyebrow at him. "I haven’t seen McGonagall yet," You quipped, a smirk tugging at your lips. “But, I’ll let you know when I do.”

Sirius’s eyes widened, clutching his chest as if you’d just struck a mortal blow, stumbling back a step with exaggerated grace. “You wound me, my love.” He gasped dramatically, pretending to stumble, making it look like he was about to collapse. You quickly placed your hand against his abdomen to steady him. The warmth of his body under your palm sent a flutter through you, though you tried not to focus on it. A small giggle escaped your lips despite yourself, amusement lighting your features as you shook your head.

Just then, Lily turned around from the corner ahead of you. Your smile brightened instantly, and you called you to her with a wave, slipping your hand from Sirius’ side as you made your way toward her. “Lily, darling!”

She waved right back with a smile almost as bright as yours, her eyes lighting up, “Y/N, dearest!”

James then popped up beside you, having somehow snuck up from where he, Peter, and Remus were walking behind you and Sirius. His voice was loud and overly dramatic as he called out, “Lily, my sweetheart, the love of my life!”

You and Sirius couldn’t help but roll your eyes. But before James could do any more ridiculous serenading, you slipped out of Sirius’ grip and hurried over to Lily, wrapping her in a warm hug. “You look amazing, as always,” You complimented, pulling from the hug.

“I have to say the same thing about you. Have you done something new with your hair?” Lily asked, as if you didn’t spend everyday together, locking her arm with yours.

James, naturally, pouted, dramatically heartbroken that Lily hadn’t spared him so much as a hug. With an exaggerated sigh, he turned to glance at Sirius beside him, only for the pout to vanish the moment he caught sight of the expression on his best mate’s face. Sirius’ gaze was full of quiet, admiring affection as he watched you with Lily.

James hummed to himself. He had seen that look on Sirius many times before. It was a soft, almost vulnerable expression, like the world had narrowed down to just you, and nothing else mattered. It was the same look James knew he gave Lily - when she wasn’t looking, when she laughed at something someone said, when she smiled like she didn’t know she’d just lit up the whole room.

“You’re whipped,” James blurted out, quiet enough that you couldn’t hear.

Sirius blinked, snapping out of whatever daze he’d fallen into while staring at you. He turned to James with a furrowed brow, clearly confused before letting out a ‘spft’, chuckling like James had just said something completely ridiculous.

“Please,” Sirius scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re one to talk.”

James rolled his eyes, nudging Sirius sharply in the side as they walked behind you and Lily. “Oh, sod off. You’re so obvious it physically hurts. Just ask her out already.”

Sirius snorted, “Ask her out?” He repeated, incredulous. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” James asked, exasperated, arms out like he couldn’t possibly comprehend the hesitation.

“Because she’s my best friend, Prongs!” Sirius hissed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know. The one person, aside from you, who actually puts up with me when I’m being a complete arse, who knows every stupid thing I’ve ever done and still decides to sit next to me at breakfast, lunch, and supper.”

James raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah, and that’s exactly why you should ask her out. You’re halfway there already, mate. The cuddling, the flirting, the-” He gestured vaguely to Sirius, “-whatever you both were doing a minute ago.”

Sirius blinked at him, expression genuinely confused. “What? We were just walking.”

James stared at him, deadpan. “Mate. You kissed the top of her head, held her like she was your entire world, and you looked at her like she hung the bloody moon.”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He caught the sound of your laugh drifting through the air, light and melodic. It hit his ears like music. His eyes slipped away from James, drawn back to you like they always were. He watched as you walked ahead, a little bounce in your step, your arm linked with Lily’s, your smile impossibly bright as you chatted about something he couldn't quite hear. The sight of you - so effortlessly radiant - had always been a sort of bittersweet torture for him.

“I bloody love her, James. Have since fourth year. But… She doesn’t love me.”

James let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly disappointed. “You’re hopeless, Pads. Can’t you see the way she looks at you?”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. He just looked at James, feeling a mix of fear and doubt. But before he could even respond, your voice called out through the corridor, snapping him out his head.

“Hurry up, boys! I’m not letting anyone else take the good seats at the table!”

Sirius blinked, his gaze immediately lifting to find you up ahead. The sound of your voice settled something warm in his chest. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

James clutched his chest in mock despair, the other arm reaching out dramatically toward Lily. “Lily, my love, wait for me!” He cried out, dashing after her like some lovesick fool - in which, he was.

Remus passed by next, giving Sirius a firm pat on the shoulder with a quiet, knowing look. A beat later, Peter trailed behind, flashing a double thumbs-up that made Sirius huff a dry laugh under his breath. He exhaled slowly, his smile fading into something more pensive. As he picked up his pace to follow the others, he pushed down the doubt that still clung to him. For now, he’d settle for this - walking beside you, laughing with you, and loving you in silence.

~~~

The Common Room was dimly lit by the fire burning in the fireplace, the crackling of the fire filling the otherwise silent space. It was growing closer and closer to midnight, but neither you nor Lily were planning to go to bed yet. The two of you sat opposite of each other, papers scattered in front of the both of you on the coffee table between you, quills in hand as you both worked through the mountain of homework that was due at the end of the week.

Lily let out a soft sigh, her brow furrowing as she read over her essay for the fourth time. “I swear, if I read ‘properties of moonstone’ one more time, I might just lose it.” She muttered, tapping her quill against the parchment with a slight frown.

You gave her a sympathetic smile, but couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “I know what you mean. I keep making the same mistake on my Potions essay. I’m really tempted to just turn it in as it is and hope for the best.”

Lily shot you a look, her lips quirking up in a half-smile. “You’re going to fail if you do that.” She teased, “But, knowing you, you’ll somehow still get full marks.”

You grinned, “Hey, don’t jinx me.” Just as the words left your mouth, the creak of a door opening echoed through the quiet common room. You turned your head, eyebrows raising in surprise as Sirius emerged from the boys' dormitory. He ran a tired hand through his tousled ebony hair, his eyes half-lidded and steps slow. Your concern was immediate. “Siri? You alright?”

He blinked, only now seeming to notice you and Lily hunched over your homework. His expression shifted, just slightly, as he tried to smooth it over with a casual smirk. “What are you doing up?” He deflected, ignoring your question altogether as he padded across the room.

“Homework,” You replied simply, watching him approach.

Without another word, Sirius sank down beside you, and to your surprise, he eased himself sideways and gently laid his head in your lap, turning his face toward your stomach. One arm wrapped around your waist, then the other, nuzzling his face into your sweater. You barely had time to react before he exhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

A soft smile pulled at your lips as you bit down gently on your bottom lip, carefully setting your quill aside. Leaning back against the plush cushions of the couch, you adjusted slightly to get more comfortable, one hand threading through Sirius’ hair while the other moved to rub slow, gentle circles along his shoulder.

Lily glanced up from her parchment, smirking as her eyes flicked from you to Sirius, then back again. Sirius scooted in even closer, nuzzling into your stomach with a content hum as your nails grazed lightly across his scalp. The next few minutes passed in a peaceful hush, the only sounds being the soft crackle of the fire and the rhythmic scratching of Lily’s quill. Eventually, you felt the weight of Sirius' body settle more fully against you, his breathing slowing into a deep, steady rhythm. Your smile widened, heart fluttering at the realization - he’d fallen asleep.

The moment lingered in warm silence until Lily’s soft, hushed voice broke through it. “He loves you, you know?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide as you blinked at her once, then twice. “I-” You started, your voice caught somewhere between surprise and denial. You looked down at Sirius again, still sleeping soundly in your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist like he never wanted to let go. Your fingers continued threading gently through his hair, slower now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lils,” You murmured, though your voice wasn’t quite as steady as you wanted it to be. Sirius shifted slightly in your lap, letting out a sleepy breath against your stomach, completely at peace, and completely unaware of how much he made your heart ache in the best and worst ways.

Lily just arched a brow, clearly unconvinced, before returning to her essay with a knowing little smile. She looked back down at her work, dipping her quill back into the ink pot, before she added, “You know… James is a bit dramatic with his love for me. He always has been.” She smiled to herself, fondness in her voice. “He sings my name when I’m two feet away. Tries to carry my books when I’m perfectly capable. And don’t even get me started on how he talks about me to literally anyone who’ll listen.” You gave a faint, amused snort despite yourself. “But sometimes,” She went on, her tone shifting, becoming more thoughtful, “When he thinks I’m not paying attention, when he isn’t trying to be charming or ridiculous… He looks at me like I hung the stars and moon.” Her eyes flicked up only briefly, meeting yours with that same calm, knowing softness. “And that’s exactly how Sirius looks at you. Same love. Same adoration. Same admiration.”

You swallowed thickly, tearing your eyes away from her to glance down at the boy in your lap. What you could see of his face, he looked relaxed and content. You sighed, your hand leaving his hair to trail, fingertips just brushing along the soft skin of his cheek before brushing his hair back from his forehead. He barely stirred, but his hold around your waist tightened ever so slightly. Your chest ached in that stupid, tender way he always made it ache. Your fingers stilled for a moment, eyes studying the way the firelight danced over part of his face and how his lashes cast soft shadows upon the apples of his cheeks. You’d always found him beautiful, infuriatingly so. But right now, he looked soft. In a way that made you feel like you were holding the entire world in your lap. You said nothing. You just kept running your fingers through his dark, silky hair, your other hand still resting gently on his shoulder.

Eventually, Lily let out a small yawn, stretching her arms overhead. “Alright,” She murmured, blinking tiredly. “I should get to bed before I pass out and ruin this essay with drool.” She began gathering her books and parchment into a neat pile, stuffing them into her bag. As she stood, she paused, “Good luck.” She whispered before walking off toward the girl’s dormitory.

You sighed quietly when you heard the door close behind her. The fire’s glow flickered across Sirius’ face as he remained curled up against you, peaceful and unaware. Your hand slowed in his hair, brushing the strands back from his forehead once again, your fingers memorizing every line, every angle of him. Carefully, with one hand, you reached back, fingers brushing against the soft knit of the red throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. You tugged it free, slowly unfurling it with a soft rustle before gently laying it over Sirius’ resting form. You took your time, making sure it was tucked around his shoulders and draped down his back, cocooning him in warmth.

You let out a quiet sigh, your fingers instinctively returning to his hair. “You don’t know what you do to me, Siri,” You whispered, your voice barely audible over the gentle crackle of the fire. Your eyes lingered on him, tracing every detail - his lashes, the faint freckles across his nose, the way his mouth was slightly parted as he breathed. A wistful smile tugged at your lips. “You drive me mad, you know that? And I think… I think I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You leaned down, heart pounding, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering for just a second longer. Settling back into the couch, you exhaled slowly, your eyelids growing heavier with every slow blink. As you drifted off to sleep, your breathing evened out, soft and steady.

And beneath the blanket, with his face tucked against your stomach, Sirius did his best to keep his eyes closed and his breathing slow. His heart thundered in his chest, the echo of your words playing over and over in his mind. You’d said it - you loved him. And Merlin, he wanted to open his eyes, to pull you into his arms, to say it back right then and there.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet.

~~~

The first light of morning filtered through the cracks in the curtains, casting a golden glow over the Common Room. Stirring, Sirius groaned softly, opening his eyes slowly, only to realize that you were in his arms. Throughout the night, you had both moved, somehow managing to lay on the couch in a somewhat comfortable position. Sirius was on his back, his arms wrapped tight around you, while you were laying half on top of him and half to the side, your hand over his heart, while your face was buried against his neck. Your soft, even breathing brushed against his skin, sending a flutter through his chest. For a moment, he just stayed there, frozen, taking in the sensation of having you so close - feeling your warmth seep into his skin, mingle with his bones, and wrap around his soul.

Then, you began to stir, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you shifted closer to him. His hand found its way to your back, gently rubbing it, feeling the soft rise before you shifted again, and suddenly you were wide awake, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. You sat up quickly, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you pulled yourself away from him. Your eyes flicked everywhere, avoiding his gaze, as you quickly tried to smooth your hair down.

"I’m sorry" You awkwardly chuckled out, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that.”

Sirius chuckled softly, the warmth in his chest spreading at the sight of you flustered. “Hey, love, it’s fine,” His voice steady. “No need to apologize.”

You nodded, before looking out the window, seeing the sun beginning to rise. “It’s morning,” You said, before standing up. "I should probably get ready for class," You muttered, but before you could move much further, Sirius reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip firm but gentle, pulling you back toward the couch. In one smooth motion, you were sitting again - this time, halfway in his lap. You gasped in surprise, your breath hitching as your eyes locked with his, the space between you both feeling incredibly, impossibly small. “Siri, we have to get ready for class.” You glanced shortly around the Common Room, no one was around. “I think we might be late.” You let out a chuckle, looking back at him.

Sirius worried on his bottom lip, something you knew he only did when he was really nervous. And there was this look on his face, one you hadn’t really seen before. It wasn’t his usual smirk, or anything, but something serious.

Tilting your head to the side slightly, you reached out with a hand, cupping his chin before freeing his bottom lip with his bottom lip. “Why so serious?” You asked, poking his cheek only for him to grab your wrist gently, shutting his eyes as he brought it to his cheek, letting out a somewhat shaky breath.

You frowned at the sudden shift, your playful expression fading as you gave him your full attention. This didn’t feel like the time for teasing.

Sirius looked at you, eyes searching, voice barely above a whisper. “Just… Tell me you’ve wanted me too. Even half as much as I’ve wanted you.”

Your shoulders dropped, breath catching as your eyes widened. “You… Want me?”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching with something far softer than his usual flirtatious grin. “Why do you think I spend every spare moment with you?” He asked gently. “It’s not just for the laughs or the teasing - though I love that too. Or because you always save me a spot on the couch.” His hand was still on your cheek, thumb brushing slowly over your skin. “I want to be around you all the time. I crave your laugh, your weird little ramblings when you’re half-asleep, the way you laugh at my terrible jokes, the way you always know when I’m off- how you never push, but you always stay. Shit, even the way you roll your eyes at me. I want all of it. I want you. You're the only person who makes me feel like I can just be me.” He let out a soft, shaky breath. “You feel like home.”

You blinked, heart thudding, then tried to ease the tension bubbling in your chest with a soft grin. “You sure that’s not just because I always let you use my notes when you forget to write yours?”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face before throwing his head back dramatically. “Merlin, Y/N, I’m trying to be serious here!”

You laughed, leaning in a little closer. “But you are Sirius.”

He groaned, exasperated, “You’re ridicu-”

But before he could finish, you surged forward, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the soft strands of hair there. Without a second thought, you pulled him down, closing the space between you and pressing your lips to his, shutting him up. Sirius froze for half a second, like his brain needed to catch up with his heart, and then he kissed you back. His hand found your waist, the other cradling your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like you were made of stardust and silk.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, your foreheads pressed together. His fingers still curled at your waist, holding on like he never wanted to let go. Sirius let out a soft, breathy chuckle, eyes still closed, the corners of his mouth twitching into that familiar, lazy grin. “I’ve been waiting for that,” He murmured, voice rough and warm, “Since fourth year.”

You let out a breath of laughter, your nose brushing against his as you smiled. “Yeah? Well, I’ve got you beat.” He raised an eyebrow as you both pulled back. You smirked. “I’ve been waiting since third.”

Sirius blinked, then laughed - full and loud, “Merlin, you stubborn, brilliant thing,” He said, shaking his head affectionately. “All that time, and we could’ve been doing this instead of pretending we weren’t both stupidly in love.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Well, we’re here now.”

“Yeah,” He whispered, his voice suddenly softer, more serious, as he leaned in again, “We are.”

~~~

Walking down the hall, you laughed, carefree and light as Sirius swung your intertwined hands back and forth between you. The morning sun streaked through the tall window, catching in his and your hair and giving you both a soft, golden glow. Suddenly, Sirius grinned and raised your joined hands, making you twirl under his arm with an elegant little spin before he tugged you right into his side, his arm draping easily over your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes playfully, bumping your hip into his as he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of your head, steadily making your way into the Great Hall. You smiled, realizing that you had more time to eat than you realized. Your eyes scanned the familiar tables until they landed on your friends, already seated. You chuckled under your breath, amused at the sight of James with his elbow propped on the table, his fist squishing into his cheek as he gazed dreamily at Lily, who was valiantly pretending not to notice. Remus sat beside her, shaking his head before going back to his book, while Peter beside him was already halfway through his second piece of toast.

Sliding into your seat beside Sirius, across from the four, you greeted them all with a bright smile, “Good morning!”

Lily raised an eyebrow, a small smile on her face as you began placing food on your plate, “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Can you blame her?” Sirius said smoothly, stealing a grape from your plate. “She gets to start her day with me.”

You elbowed him lightly, but Sirius only smirked down at you in return, his hand slipping down to rest on your thigh beneath the table. The warmth of his touch burned through the fabric of your robes, and you felt your cheeks flush instantly, heat creeping up your neck.

Across the table, James caught the exchange and leaned forward with an all-too-knowing smirk. “So,” He drawled, lifting his mug of pumpkin juice dramatically. “How’d you two sleep last night?”

You froze for a second, eyes widening slightly before you began pouring yourself some blueberry tea. Sirius raised a brow in response, casual and unbothered. “Great, actually,” He said smoothly, voice laced with amusement.

James grinned wider. “Yeah, I bet. You looked mighty comfy this morning when I came downstairs. Didn’t want to wake you. You both looked too peaceful. Almost domestic, really.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for your toast. “Oh, please, Prongs, you’re just jealous you weren’t cuddling Lily this morning.”

James didn’t even try to deny it. “Obviously,” He said without missing a beat, turning dramatically to Lily with wide, hopeful eyes. “So when do I get to cuddle you, my love? I’m house-trained, I promise.”

Lily sighed, long-suffering but not entirely annoyed, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile. “You’re barely trained, James.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, resting his chin on his hand as he looked between the two. “Merlin, this table is getting disgustingly sweet.”

“You started it,” Lily pointed out dryly.

Sirius just grinned, unbothered, and took a bite of his toast, crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, just scooted a little closer to you on the bench. You looked up at him with a soft smile, noticing the crumbs. Without thinking, you reached up and gently brushed them away with your thumb.

Sirius chewed the last bite and swallowed, murmuring, “Thanks, love.”

The four friends across from you all exchanged looks, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Lily finally broke the silence. “So… When did this all happen?”

Sirius, still looking at you and not the least bit fazed, replied simply, “This morning.”

James groaned dramatically and flopped sideways into Lily’s shoulder like he’d just taken a hit. “Ugh, why!”

Lily, very casually, held out her hand to him. “Pay up.”

James reached into his pocket with a wounded expression and slapped four Galleons into her palm. “You’re evil, but I still love you.” He muttered.

Sirius blinked. “You bet on us?”

James nodded against Lily’s shoulder, defeated. “She said you two would finally get together before spring break, but after Christmas. I said before Christmas.”

Lily smirked, pocketing the winnings. “I always win when it comes to you two. The tension was unbearable.”

James sighed dramatically again. “Why couldn’t you have just snogged two months ago? You could’ve saved me four Galleons.”

You and Sirius shared a look before bursting into laughter. Lily rolled her eyes fondly, “Honestly, it’s about time.”

“Agreed,” Remus muttered, not even looking up from his book. “Now maybe the rest of us can finally have some peace.”

Peter snickered into his pumpkin juice, he knew that wasn’t true.

You leaned your head against Sirius’s shoulder, letting out a content sigh as the chatter continued around you. The Great Hall was alive with noise and movement, students hurrying through breakfast before class, but you barely noticed any of it. Not when Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of your head and whispered, “Best morning I’ve ever had.”

“Even better than the time James tried to serenade Lily and accidentally hexed his own eyebrows off during breakfast?” You asked teasingly.

He grinned, lips brushing your ear. “That one’s a close second.” You laughed, and the sound felt light.

Whatever came next, detentions, exams, the unpredictable chaos of Hogwarts, you knew one thing for sure: you and Sirius had finally found your rhythm, and you weren’t about to let it go. And judging by the way he held you a little closer and stole one more kiss before class, neither was he.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

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cheralith · 4 months ago

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ON MY KNEES BEGGING PLEASE MORE KAISER X HOGWARTS AU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🫡

characters ; slytherin!kaiser, professor!kaiser | wc ; 1.9k contains ; hogwarts au, aged-up characters, kind of major character death (?), gn!reader, no pronouns used, not edited as of 02/17

i'm gonna come back to the present with this one, where you and kaiser are years older, both respectable professors with a rivalry that just cannot die down for the life of itself. he's preparing a boggart for tomorrow's class period for his defense against the dark arts class, watching as some of the academy's attendants roll in an antiqe grandfather clock, where it shakes violently on the cart despite all the chains its confined in.

it had been awhile since he had faced a boggart, he thinks to himself as the attendants settle the clock down with a loud thud. he figures he has to tame it it for a bit to be suitable for the children—apparent enough so that the lesson can be taught properly, but not so much so that it'd harm them (though, he does supposes that one bratty gryffindor third year could do with some discipline).

he mutters an appreciation of thanks to the attendants that leave, giving them their respects to one of hogwarts acclaimed professors of the decade. kaiser eyes the chains on the clock and casts a spell that retracts them from the clock. the shaking eventually settles itself down, now with less restrictions to confine the creature it holds. kaiser sighs and cracks his necks free of tension, removing his reading glasses and wanting to get this over with so he can hurry up and attend his final duties for tonight.

he was fourteen when he confronted a boggart for the first time. it was in front of anyone that he revealed his worst fear was his very own father, and the boggart stood before him in the shape of his old man the last time he saw him before he was taken away and left kaiser to fend for himself as an orphan. there he stood in front of kaiser—in a greasy wifebeater stained with beer and striped underpants that just barely covered himself. a large scowl appeared on his face, the last emotion kaiser saw on him before a couple of aurors took him away from that wretched home.

now in his late twenties, kaiser can't imagine that much has changed. he's seen and dealt with things much more horrifying than a drunken father, but his courage withstood all, and the fear was short-lived. the image of his father, however, still managed to stain his head even after all these years.

as he circles his desk, he stares at the grandfather clock, cocking a brow when it begins to shudder again the closer he comes to it; as though it can sense his presence. he waits patiently, his wand at the ready in his hand as the pendulum door slowly opens with a familiar hand creeping out. kaiser's eyes narrow, recognizing the wedding band that wounds itself around a swollen finger.

eventually, the figure of his father steps out of the case, deep blue eyes that match kaiser's own staring directly up at him. kaiser was only barely four feet tall when his father was permanently severed from his life. he towers over him now, at six foot two, but despite it, he still feels a slight falter in his knees.

the father/boggart smirks evilly, the beer bottle fisted in his right hand going to point at him accusingly.

"sub-human trash," the father/boggart spits at him, saliva speckling onto kaiser's cheek. "useless. a creature that's lower than animals, than filth itself!"

kaiser huffs a spare lock of hair out of his face, feeling slightly unfazed when the father/boggart approaches him eerily slow. he yawns tiredly, preparing his wand to conduct a spell.

"you're a piece of sh—"

the boggart/father suddenly stopped in its tracks, stuttering. it attempted to sound the word "shit" out, but was stuck on the "sh" syllable, repeating it over and over again as its form wobbled and shook. kaiser stiffens suddenly, a crease in his forehead forming from the furrow of his brows when the boggart stays paralyzed in its spot.

this was odd. this had never happened before. he hadn't even casted the charm yet, so he was perplexed as to why it was already beginning to change when he hadn't done anything yet.

the boggart/father groans out suddenly, as if it was in pain, then suddenly its current form vanished into black smoke, before it quickly resembled a new form that made kaiser's blood run cold.

confounded, he was no longer staring at the image of his father, but rather...

you.

you stand still in front of him ever so patiently, a soft smile that you rarely ever gave to him upon your lips. your hair still as elegant as ever, falling and framing your face in a portrait-like fashion. you had your everyday cloak on, looking nothing less of lovely despite the plain-looking clothes. your eyes, warm and inviting, as they soften at him.

kaiser saw you everyday since you and him started working together, whether it be in passing or in the same meeting room. but in this form, you looked more radiant than usual, almost hypnotizingly so.

something switched in kaiser's brain. you were normally untouchable to him, some sort of forcefield around you that constantly kept him at bay away from you. you always seemed to constantly keep him at arm's distance, just close enough for him to look at you clearly but never touch you. yet, somehow, this form of you seems to have gotten rid of that shield around you and you're looking at him with a placidity that you only granted to those that were deserving of it.

so kaiser's breath hitched accordingly so when your voice had whispered out a gentle sound to him that made his head spin.

"michael," you greet so tenderly to him, the smile still settled on your lips.

michael...

right, his name. his... his first name. his given name. it felt odd hearing it sometimes, considering that the name never came out of his own father's lips because he thought of saying his own son's name felt like a sin as it was one of the last things his ex-lover had left him sparingly. he was used to being referred to as his last name, so whenever he heard "michael", even if it wasn't directed towards him, it made kaiser's heart clutch with a longing.

but hearing it from your own lips made a familiar weakening in his knees spread throughout the course of his body. it felt... melodious to him, when it came out of your voice. you beckon him so fondly with it, and kaiser can't help but take a step forward with a hand out towards you.

the moment his entire foot sets itself on the ground, however, granting him one step closer to you, a horrid spark of green light suddenly shoots out from behind you, striking you directly from the back and webbing you with green lightening. you let out an excruciatingly painful shriek that echoes hauntingly through the classroom before you go limp and crumple to the ground, lying face up.

kaiser's jaw unhinges from itself, a strangled sound coming out of his throat when he stares what was in front of him.

he automatically takes his step back, creating a space between you and him as your face falls toward him, your eyes visibly having no life and warmth left in them. his chest tightens and hands shake as his body continues to force him to stare at your lifeless body in front of him.

his mouth goes dry, body frozen in place. kaiser suddenly feels his fingers twitch and uses that singular act of rebellion in his body to cast the charm before the shock fully settled into place inside his body.

"RIDDIKULUS!" he hollers, his wand pointing at your lifeless body before the charm protrudes out of his wand and transforms the boggart into a figure of yoichi isagi getting tomatoes thrown at him from an invisible crowd. normally such a sight would make kaiser laugh hysterically, but the shock from before instills some remnants in his nerves, so he casts the boggart back into its rightful place and unsheathes the chains back to it, the grandfather clock thrashing against them once again.

kaiser staggers to a nearby desk to steady himself, his vision blurring from the adrenaline rush. the boggart, though confined back into the case of the clock, ghosts the figure of your lifeless body on the floor as kaiser attempts to examine his surroundings. a hand goes to his neck and gives it a firm squeeze, spurring reality back to himself.

deep breaths and gasps inhale and exhale out of his lungs, as though to pump out the leftover daze from himself. he falls into the desk chair, holding his pounding forehead in his hand.

he knew that people could have multiple fears that the boggart could possess the form of, but he thought his only one true fear was his father spatting insults left and right to him. he's had to rid of boggarts before and they've always had the same form of that good-for-nothing father, so kaiser's head rushes with questions of what changed.

but more importantly, why did it change into you? into an image where kaiser witnessed your death?

he earns more questions than answers as he tries to regulate himself. the throbbing in his forehead doesn't seem to be stopping soon, so kaiser drags a hand down his face as he stares miserably at the shaking grandfather clock.

he jolts suddenly, hearing the unclicking of the classroom door. his head snaps towards it and he stands up too quick for his own good, feeling his head rush from the lack of blood that makes him stumble a bit.

you poke your head into the defense against the dark arts classroom, your eyes wandering for a specific blonde before you find him standing dumbly in the middle of it.

kaiser's eyes widen at your sudden appearance, fighting the urge to look back at the grandfather clock to make sure it was actually you, the true you. the you that still has a pulse.

"hey, the meeting is about to start in a few," you mention as you open the door wider. "don't be late. the headmaster might give you another lecture again."

kaiser doesn't respond, but instead stares at you silently with an unreadable expression, as though he was petrified.

you snap your fingers, breaking him out of his trance. "you good?"

kaiser suddenly finds the stiffness in his spine suddenly disappear when the sound of your snapping fingers rings in his ears, making the fuzziness in them tune out. he blinks rapidly, rubbing his eyes.

the figure of you leaning on the doorframe clears itself in his field of vision. you raise a brow.

"huh? oh. yeah, the meeting," kaiser mutters through a dry throat.

you roll your eyes and kaiser can see that familiar glaze of life in them that manages to expel the shock for good from his mind. you were alive. you always have been. you're standing right in front of him, arms crossed with a disapproving look on your perfect face, a frown adorned on your perfect lips.

"they figured you'd forget, so they asked me to come fetch you," you sigh, examining your fingernails. you begin to shut the door behind you, ignorant to the spell you've casted on him.

"starts in ten. do not be late!" you call out just before you slam the door on him and leave kaiser all alone with his thoughts in the classroom.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #blue lock angst #michael kaiser angst #kaiser angst #mini-series ; slytherin!kaiser #blue lock ; michael kaiser #gn!reader

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amorchai · 3 months ago

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hey ! can i request a blurb for george weasley ? gn reader of any house, reader plays quidditch and george knocked them off their broom badly with a bludger, and maybe with the prompt "here, lean on me. i can carry you"

𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇.

pairing(s): george weasley x hufflepuff!reader

words: 1115

warning/tags: hufflepuff!reader, injury, pining, one sick mention ( not graphic! )

apologies it's not of any house! i feel like it's hard not to when it's playing hogwarts quidditch matches.

the well awaited hogwarts quidditch finals had arrived, and to say the gryffindor’s were full of adrenaline was an understatement. like ravenclaw, gryffindor’s were cheering for the hufflepuff team when they were up against slytherin the previous week.

george didn’t even mind the constant teasing from his twin brother when he gaped in whatever direction you were flying. you flawlessly glided past the aggravated opponents with the quaffle and scored the house sporting yellow and black seventy points while your seeker had kept a watchful eye on the snitch.

the joy he felt when slytherin lost was mixed with a slight dread from realising just how skilled hufflepuff team had become, mainly down to your amazing play. harry had never looked as tense over a match until the morning of the finals, trying to be a confident captain and lead them to the hogwarts quidditch cup.

fred and george had been making snarky remarks in the locker room the moment harry pep talks everyone up. angelina was nodding enthusiastically along while others paced around nervously. ron looked close to being sick, again.

but all words were lost on george for a split second when he stepped onto the pitch, broom in hand. and it wasn’t due to the ear-splitting cheers or the outstanding weather for such a final – but the image of you waiting beside your team.

“good idea, we’ll catch the snitch quick with your mouth wide open,” fred muses beside his brother, patting his shoulder. never had the colours black and yellow looked so good until now, you looked nervous; and from how well you played, george didn’t understand why.

you send the group a smile as they approach, and george forces himself to pull away his gaze. after the game, after. he had a final match to help his team win.

his red-robed arm bumps your shoulder, leaning down to your ear when madam hooch discloses her final wishes and rules. with a whisper, george’s breath tickles your ear, “you know. when we win you should come to our party sporting red, it would suit you.”

you try not to smile, lips pursing ever so slightly before you respond, eyes not glancing away from the quidditch teacher, “so will the quidditch cup.”

impressed, george stands tall while stealing some more glances at your pretty features before being beckoned over to their positions. “good luck, y/l/n,” his tone is teasing, flirty when he walks backwards to where he’s needed and when you lock eyes it’s replaced with a hitched breath.

“good luck, weasley.”

your soft voice echoes in his mind when he sits upon his broom and awaits the whistle, watching you kick off and aim for the quaffle madam hooch throws in the air. george suddenly realises he’s the only one still on the ground, and kicks up.

he tries not to batter the bludger too close to you throughout the first twenty minutes, however, this causes you to score twice. george looks around confused when the whistle blows moments after you score again, harry calling for a time out while moving from his seeker spot and towards the tall boy sporting long ginger hair.

“george, focus!” harry rages, gesturing to the bat he holds and has hardly used so far. you’re moving past them, on your way back to hufflepuff’s side, “i’ve seen you play, weasley. don’t go easy on me now.”

he laughs, smiling widely as you ride away. george doesn’t notice the look harry gives him until a clunk against his skull pulls him away from his reverie, fred’s own bat lightly tapping the back of his twin’s head.

“you’re gonna make us lose the final over a crush?” harry asks, loudly. george just shrugs, chuckling before responding, “i won’t go easy, then.”

throughout the game, george gradually pulls himself out his head and focuses on winning. angelina scores a few times while harry and the hufflepuff seeker woosh past at false alarms of the snitch.

for a moment, george is too focused on winning that he acts as if he’s playing against the slytherin team, seeing the quaffle nearing the goalposts that ron nervously protects and sends the next bludger burling over.

gasps fill the stadium after an echoed crack when the ball crashes into your arm. you yell in pain, tipping your broom as you lean down, cradling your arm with your uninjured side. upon instinct, george drops his bat and rushes over to descending frame, grasping the tipped broom to ease you down slower.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he ignores the shouting from teammates and the crowd, the whistle seemingly so far in the distance as madam hooch tries to reach the ground. george watches as you cry in agony, helping you off your broom and examining your clearly-broken arm.

“i know i said don’t go easy but i didn’t mean aim for my limbs,” you quip sarcastically through sniffles. “i’m so sorry,” george says again as madam hooch approaches, tutting as she examines it herself.

with calloused thumbs peeking through his fingerless quidditch gloves, george wipes your cheek from salty tears as the teacher responds, “oh dear, straight to the infirmary for you, i’m afraid. we’ll add in someone else for the rest of the match.”

george pulls back to turn to her, your frame leaning into his, “let me take y/n there.” professor mcgonagall and sprout are running across the grass to reach them now, fearful eyes. the scottish accent of his head of house cuts in, “you have to play, mr weasley!”

madam hooch nods in agreement, “it was my foul! i hit the bludger, replace me as well, it was foul play! i’m taking y/n to the infirmary…” george rushes, gently urging your good arm over his shoulder.

“here, lean on me. i’ll carry you.” after a hesitant glance, you comply when george sweeps you off your feet, “i can walk.” he’s glad that you’re still quipping with him through the pain as he walks briskly past the teachers and towards the castle where madam pomfrey will await.

“i’m so sorry,” george ushers once more, feeling terrible at the side of your arm upon your shaking lap, continuous painful tears falling down your cheeks as you glare at him with a small, forced smile, “say that one more time, and see what happens, weasley.”

with a grin, he nods in pretend agreement. however, you quietly continue with a small, “heard you have a crush on me, then?”. george leans down to kiss your forehead while responding, “wow, i didn’t realise i also got your head injured,” his smirk telling you he’s teasing, the match far beyond his thoughts in that moment.

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

#જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝐡𝐩 𝐠𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚 ⁑ george weasley #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley fic

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navia3000 · 11 months ago

Text

Amortentia - T. Riddle

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Pairing : Tom Riddle x Slytherin! Reader

Warnings : Tom is not Voldy, he’s his son, and this is set during the Golden Trio, so, not very movie accurate

Genre : Fluff, soulmates implied, or, where an unexpected scent comes out of an all-too-famous potion

Part Two

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The potions classroom was alive with the chatter of students. Everyone was buzzing with the anticipation of their next project. Snape had declared that, on that day, they would be brewing Amortentia. None of the students failed to share their excitement and anticipation for the highly known potion, some even hoping to discover their one true love through its scent.

Y/N, however, had no such expectations. All she wanted was to brew the potion and get the grade.

Cauldrons sat in front of them in pairs, and she expected to be working with the Gryffindor next to her, yet, Snape seemed to have other plans.

“Students, I will be calling off your names in pairs, they will be your partner for the project,” he spoke in his monotone voice. Y/N was stressed; she prayed she wouldn’t get paired off with someone who would potentially hinder her grade.

After reading out the names of half the class, she heard her name being called along with “Tom Riddle.” The classroom fell silent. Her heart stopped. They had interacted here and there and she didn’t care that he was the Dark Lord’s son, but, he was so intimidating that the girl couldn’t help but feel nervous. She watched as he gathered his things and moved into the previously occupied seat next to her.

He gave a curt nod, barely sparing her a glance. She caught a whiff of his cologne, damn, she thought, he even smells good.

After being told to begin, the pair worked silently. They both knew what was required of them for the potion, and both pulled their weight. She was quite happy they weren’t speaking much, not because she didn’t like him, but, because she didn’t want to embarrass herself by saying something stupid.

They added the final ingredients to the cauldron and watched as the liquid turned a bright pink. They waited patiently as Snape walked by and examined their work, giving a small hum of approval. “Twenty points to Slytherin.” She couldn’t help the smile that graced her face, making eye contact with Tom and giving an appreciative nod.

After all the potions were brewed, some faring better than others, came the time to smell the potions. As she leant in, all she could smell was Tom’s cologne. It smelt of parchment and leather, a combination she found to be quite enchanting. She was, however, annoyed of his closeness as she attempted to smell the potion. She looked up quickly, about to ask him to step back, when she saw the empty chair next to her. Tom wasn’t next to her, no, he was standing at least six feet away, speaking with Professor Snape.

She was shocked. It couldn’t be, could it? Why was she smelling none other than Tom Riddle in her Amortentia. As if sensing the topic of her thoughts, Tom’ eyes drifted onto hers, locking her in a trance. He seemed to understand what was happening and the source of her shock, yet seemed entirely unfazed by it.

Her eyes didn’t stray from his as he walked to their shared table and took a whiff of the Amortentia. Again, he seemed completely unfazed by what he smelt, eyes never leaving hers.

Finally, their trance was broken as Snape dismissed the class. Her feet felt as heavy as bricks as she made her way out of the dungeon and towards her friend’s common room, trying to process everything that happened.

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“Oh, come on! We both know what this means!” Y/N was currently sprawled on her best friend Hermione’s bed, listening as she tried convincing the girl that Tom Riddle was her soulmate, according to the Amortentia. As Hermione put it, she was just “in denial.”

“I don’t know, Mione. It was probably my mind playing tricks on me! Plus, he didn’t even mention it nor seem fazed by it. He most likely smelt someone else, or, no one at all.”

A pillow smacked her in the head. “You know that’s not true!”

A groan spilled out of her, “I can’t think about this right now, I’m going for a walk.”

She thought sneaking into the Gryffindor common room and speaking to her most level-headed friend would help ease her thoughts, but she left feeling worse than before.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Tom, it’s that she wonders whether she’s what he wants; will he like her too? Probably not, she thought, Tom Riddle doesn’t like anyone.

“Going somewhere?” A voice she dreaded spoke. Turning around, she came face to face with the subject of her anxieties.

His face was stern, albeit beautiful, and she quickly realized how late past curfew it had gotten.

She stumbled over her words, attempting to find a good excuse yet coming up with none.

His eyes scanned her face as she stared like a deer in headlights. “I’ll walk you back to the dungeons,” he said after a good minute or two of the two gawking at each other, his tone leaving no room for question.

As she turned to walk, she felt his hand ghost over the small of her back, summoning a blush to her face.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He broke the silence.

“About what?” She waited a second before she spoke, although he knew she would know what he meant.

“I smelt your perfume in the potion, you smelt my cologne. We both know what that means.”

She kept quiet for a second, racking her brain for the right words, afraid of making the conversation more awkward than it was already. “Yes, we do. But, is it what you want it to mean?” She waited a beat. “I mean, how do you feel about it?”

“I’ll admit, I am surprised.” She searched his face, worry seeping into her head at his words. “And, although I’m surprised, it doesn’t mean I’m unhappy about it.”

She stopped and turned to face him, “you’re not?”

“No,” he said, his tone sincere, “you’re smart, kind, and beautiful. I must admit, I am glad it’s you.” He turned and kept walking, her feet rushing to catch up to him.

She couldn’t believe it. She knew all the rumors about this boy, people thought him cold and cruel; they judge him because he’s quiet, they don’t know him. Albeit, neither does she, but his words don’t come off as ‘cruel’ or ‘cold.’

“Wait, so, what does this mean?” She asked just as they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

“It means that we have a date this weekend at Hogsmeade. Have a good night, Y/N,” he spoke with a soft smile.

As she walked into the common room, she couldn’t help the smile that graced her face, for the first time feeling grateful for Professor Snape’s class.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter masterlist #harry potter headcanon #harry potter #slytherin imagine #slytherin #slytherin boys

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slytherin-princess-x · 6 months ago

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Bound by decree: love is a dangerous game

Mattheo x reader

Summary: An arranged marriage but they’re enemies

A/n: it’s a long one today guys

The parchment felt like a death sentence in my trembling hands—crisp, official, and utterly final. I stared at the ornate script, the words swimming before my eyes: *"By decree of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the Ministry of Magic, a binding betrothal is hereby established between…"* My stomach churned. I already knew the name; it had been the hushed whisper in the corridors, the grim topic of conversation amongst the Slytherins. *"...Miss Y/N L/N and Mr. Mattheo Gaunt Riddle."*

Year Seven was supposed to be exciting. The final exams, Quidditch tryouts, maybe even a stolen kiss or two behind the greenhouses. Instead, it was starting with shackles. Arranged marriages were archaic—relics of a bygone era—but here we were, being dragged back into it for the sake of pureblood lineage. As if my family's ancient bloodline wasn't pristine enough.

The cause of my imminent doom was leaning against the wall across the Slytherin common room, a picture of indolent indifference. Mattheo Riddle. Dark hair perpetually mussed, eyes like chips of obsidian, and a smirk that promised nothing but trouble. He exuded an aura of dangerous charisma that made most students scurry out of his path. But me? I was now legally bound to him. The irony tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Well, well," Mattheo drawled, pushing off the wall and strolling toward me. His voice was a smooth, velvety threat. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, L/N."

I crumpled the parchment in my fist. "Stuck is an understatement, Riddle. This is a bloody nightmare."

He chuckled, a low, humorless sound that grated on my nerves. "Don't pretend you're not flattered. Who wouldn't want to be betrothed to me?"

"Oh, I can think of a few," I snapped, my eyes blazing. "Anyone with a functioning brain and a desire to, you know, choose who they spend their life with."

His smirk widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Such spirit. I'm almost… impressed."

The "almost" hung in the air, thick with sarcasm. That was our dynamic in a nutshell—a constant sparring match, a battle of wills fueled by mutual disdain. He reveled in my frustration, while I seethed under his arrogant gaze.

The engagement was a public spectacle. Announcements at breakfast, pointed glances in the corridors, and the ever-present whisper of our names linked together. It was suffocating. And the worst part? Mattheo seemed to enjoy it. He’d drape an arm possessively around my shoulders during meals, his touch sending shivers of disgust down my spine. He’d answer questions about our "future" with infuriatingly vague pronouncements, leaving me to grit my teeth and plaster on a fake smile.

My attempts at a normal Year Seven were thwarted at every turn. Gryffindor boys who’d dared to flirt with me suddenly found themselves on the receiving end of Mattheo’s icy glare and a few well-placed hexes. Even my closest friends grew hesitant, the air around me now tainted by Mattheo’s presence.

"He's like a bloody Dementor," my friend Clara muttered one afternoon, as we watched Mattheo lean against a tree, his gaze fixed on me. "Sucking all the joy out of the air."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Tell me about it. I can't even look at another boy without him glaring holes into their skull."

The enforced proximity did offer a twisted kind of insight, though. I saw glimpses of Mattheo away from the public eye. The way his brow furrowed in concentration during Potions, the almost imperceptible twitch of his lip when he read a particularly clever passage in a Transfiguration textbook. These moments were fleeting, quickly masked by his usual sardonic demeanor, but they were there.

One evening, stuck in the library together to “study”—a thinly veiled excuse for our parents to see us interacting amicably—I found myself staring at him. He was engrossed in a heavy tome, his features softened in the lamplight. For the first time, I saw past the arrogance and the threats, and caught a glimpse of… something else. A weariness, perhaps? Or maybe just boredom.

He looked up, catching my gaze. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a neutral expression that was almost unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

"Problem, L/N?"

I quickly averted my eyes, a blush creeping up my neck. "No. No problem."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. It was different from our usual animosity, charged with something… more.

As the year progressed, our interactions, while still laced with sarcasm and barbed comments, began to shift. We argued about house points with a shared competitiveness. We found an odd sort of camaraderie in our mutual disdain for certain professors. During a particularly grueling detention scrubbing cauldrons, Mattheo surprised me by sharing a mumbled joke that actually made me laugh.

The Yule Ball arrived like a looming deadline. I had dreaded the thought of being seen on Mattheo’s arm. But as he stood before me in his dress robes, a certain unfamiliar nervousness in his eyes, something shifted within me. He was undeniably handsome, and for the first time, the thought didn’t fill me with immediate revulsion.

Our dance was stiff and awkward at first, but as the music softened and we found a rhythm, a strange sort of understanding passed between us. His hand on my back was firm, his gaze surprisingly steady.

"You look… tolerable," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the music.

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "And you're not entirely unbearable yourself, Riddle."

It was a minuscule crack in the wall of our mutual animosity, but it was there.

The turning point, perhaps inevitably, came during a late-night study session in the deserted astronomy tower. We were arguing, as usual, about some obscure Charms theory. Our voices echoed in the stillness, the tension crackling between us.

"You're being deliberately obtuse," I accused, frustration bubbling over.

"And you're being willfully ignorant," Mattheo retorted, his eyes flashing.

We were close—too close. Our anger was a palpable force. And then, something shifted. The anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a different kind of intensity. His gaze lingered on my lips, and for the first time, I didn’t want to look away.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "You know," he said, his voice low and husky, "you're not what I expected."

My heart hammered in my chest. "And what did you expect?" I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

His gaze searched mine, a flicker of something vulnerable in his dark eyes. "A simpering pureblood princess, eager to please."

"And what did you get?" I challenged, my voice barely a breath.

A slow smile spread across his face, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and banished the usual shadows. "Someone who challenges me. Someone who isn’t afraid."

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t a gentle, tentative kiss. It was fierce, possessive, filled with a pent-up energy that mirrored the animosity that had simmered between us for months. And surprisingly, I kissed him back, my own frustrations and grudges melting away in the heat of the moment.

The world didn’t magically transform. We were still betrothed, still bound by an archaic agreement. But as we stood there, breathless and slightly shaken, in the silence of the astronomy tower, something had undeniably changed. The hatred hadn’t vanished entirely, but a new emotion had taken root—a complicated tangle of resentment and reluctant attraction.

The arranged marriage was still a cage, but now, maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be quite so lonely. The year still stretched before us, filled with uncertainty and the weight of our forced union. But for the first time since that dreaded parchment arrived, I felt a flicker of something akin to hope. Perhaps, against all odds, this nightmare could turn into something else entirely. The enemies were still there, but maybe, beneath the surface, lovers were beginning to bloom.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

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beloved-child-of-the-house · 7 months ago

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Draco had got barely halfway across the Entrance Hall when it happened. He felt the Trip Jinx round his ankles before he saw his assailants, and he went sprawling hard onto the cold stone floor, the wind knocked out of him, his wand spinning away to clatter out of sight and well out of reach. He lay on his front, coughing and gasping with ugly laughter ringing in his ears.

"Nasty tumble, there Malfoy," jeered someone behind him. "You want to mind where you're going, or you could hurt yourself."

Draco pushed up onto his hands and knees, still trying to get his breath. There was no way he could reach his wand before they jinxed him again; he hadn't even seen where it landed. He never was any good at muggle duelling. He got one leg under him, bracing himself to be knocked flat again, and heard a shout from above him.

"Protego!"

The jinx bounced off the Shield, and Draco got to his feet under its protection. Harry Potter was striding down the marble staircase toward them looking like a thunderstorm. Halfway along he stooped and picked up Draco's wand. He hardly glanced at Draco as he passed him and marched up to the little knot of seventh years picking themselves up from where they'd been hit by the rebounding jinx.

"Think it's funny to knock people down, do you, McLaggen?" snarled Potter, glaring up at the biggest of the lot.

"Oh don't get your wand in a knot, Potter. It's only Malfoy," said McLaggen in the sort of tone you might use to say 'It's only a slug.' "No love lost there, eh?"

"It doesn't matter who it is! We're not doing things like that anymore," Potter said furiously. "We just got done with a fucking war, and you want to keep fighting? You lot want to keep it going just for fun? Well, I don't, and I better not see you do that again! Now clear off! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"You can't--"

"Too fucking right I can! Now get back to your common room!" And, perhaps because Potter was Head Boy, perhaps because he looked like he could spit nails, or perhaps simply because he was Harry Potter, they did clear off. Potter watched them go, then turned to Draco. He still looked quite angry, but he was clearly trying to gather himself, "You okay?"

Draco had grazed his palms rather badly from throwing his hands out when he landed; his left wrist and forefinger were throbbing mightily, and his chest still ached, but he shrugged, "Fine."

Potter grabbed his sleeve and pulled Draco toward him to inspect his injuries, "Liar. You should go to the hospital wing and get that sorted out."

"I'll live," said Draco, but he didn't withdraw.

Potter frowned at him, chewed his lip. "I heal it for you if you'd rather," he offered after a moment.

"If nothing else will please you."

Potter pointed his wand at Draco's bleeding hands, "Episkey." The scrapes vanished, and Draco felt the spell heal his sprained wrist and finger as well. Potter pressed something into Draco's hands. Draco's wand. Draco had already forgotten he'd picked it up.

______

Excerpt from my new fic Queen of the Weeds! Drarry, Rated E, 60K. This is a coming of age story about figuring out who you're going to be and what you're going to do after your life very publicly falls apart. Draco and Harry become friends and more after they both return to Hogwarts for their 8th year after the war.

This fic is not a WIP, it is complete. I will be posting new chapters on Sundays and Thursdays until the whole thing is up.

Also gratitude to Allie @oflights from whom I got the poem that I took the title from.

Edit: This fic is now completely posted! You can read all 10 chapters now now now! I hope you enjoy reading it, because it was such a genuine pleasure to write, and I'm really going to miss working on it! Get the whole story here on AO3!

#drarry #8th year fic #apliddell #hpdm #drarry fic rec #hpdm fic rec #omg it took me over a YEAR to write this and i enjoyed it so much!#i have never written such a long fic from Draco's POV before #and it's the second longest fic i've ever written in my life!!!#I love it and I've been looking forward to sharing it with you so much!#i hope you enjoy reading it <3

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maladaptivewriting · 5 months ago

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since the tiktok ban, i've been seeing a lot of stuff where people blame americans for jegulus and i can't stop thinking about it. i don't know why people feel this way, but i am prepared to make an argument. so please allow me to make my case.

[also this is completely based on generalizations. i know americans that hate jegulus and love jily, and i know british people who hate jily and love jegulus]

so i've never been a jily girl. even years before i found jegulus, i never cared about that ship. i straight up didn't even know that people wrote fics about them specifically. (i actually still don't know if people do write fics about only them because i would never seek out something like that).

originally, i'd thought it was just because i only cared about the golden trio characters and occasionally sirius and remus, but the more i got into the marauders era, the more i realized that james and lily together were the standouts, i just really didn't care for them.

it got to the point where i only read fics that referenced jily if they were extremely background to the story (which they almost always were bc there is just not that much to say about them) or preferably if both of them were already dead and it was just remus, sirius, and harry who remained.

shortly after i really started getting into the fandom and writing for jegulus, i spoke to someone who hated jegulus and loved jily, and i told them that i'd always felt like james and lily were on the road to divorce before they died. this person was SCANDALIZED. they could not understand why'd said that.

now granted, this person was in their early twenties and in my experience, if you haven't lived long enough to see a lot of your friends go through divorces, then the idea that james and lily might divorce may seem crazy.

however, and this is where the american thing really comes in, i realized after this conversation why i felt that there was no way that james and lily were going to make it and that was specifically because of growing up a conservative christian bible belt ass place.

do you know how many couples i knew in high school who started dating their senior year even though they seemingly had nothing in common, had sex one time and didn't use protection because sex education is extremely limited down there, got pregnant, and had to have shotgun wedding?

so. fucking. many.

do you know how many of them are still married?

only one.

so when i see jily, two characters who have nothing in common beyond being gryffindors, get together, have a kid, and get married (not necessarily in that order) all within like two years, i know that the odds are not in their favor. those two aren't staying together. don't play with me.

now i don't know how people feel about young marriages in other parts of the world, especially in the uk, but i've spoken to a lot of americans, especially ones from the south, and so many of them have had the exact same experiences with their peers. i just can't help but wonder if that lends itself to less people being interested in jily.

i have other arguments to this, like that jily is not as entertaining as almost every other ship that james or lily could be involved in and americans being partial to entertainment above all else, or the american (and christian) obsession with the concept of redemption and self sacrifice making regulus a more compelling character than one that lived and died good (lily and james), but this was the one i wanted to focus on today.

#this is so long but i need to get it out of my head #i did not proof read this so im sorry if there are a ton of typos #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #american marauders fans #marauders #this is not jily friendly #just so you know

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lulublack90 · 6 months ago

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Prompt 11 - First Kiss

@wolfstarmicrofic January 11, word count 404

Sirius had been obsessing over Remus’s lips for weeks, months, probably years. He’d become suddenly aware of how much Remus affected him one evening when they were crowded around one of the fireplaces in the Gryffindor Common room, and Remus had just finished off this third chocolate frog. There was a thin smear left on the corner of his mouth. Sirius watched as the tip of Remus’s tongue poked out and swiped the last bit of chocolate, disappearing back into Remus’s mouth before poking out again and slipping across Remus’s lips. Since then, Sirius hadn’t gone a day without wanting to touch them with his own.

He and Remus were sitting in the quidditch stands, watching James racing up and down the pitch with the quaffle as Gryffindor played against Ravenclaw for the quidditch cup.

The game went on for hours, both teams neck and neck for points, it was going to come down to whoever caught the snitch first.

Sirius had grabbed onto Remus’s sleeve half an hour ago when Fuller had almost caught the snitch, her fingers brushing against the golden ball for a second before the snitch darted out of her reach. A wave of exasperated sighs chorused around the stadium at poor Fuller’s fumble.

Twenty minutes later, Fuller suddenly shot straight up and reached out her hand. She levelled off with her hand firmly clasped around the golden snitch.

The roar that rose from the Gryffindor supporters was deafening. The crowd jumped to their feet, jumping and cheering as the players circled the stands.

Sirius turned to Remus to join in the celebrations with him, and then he saw the joy on Remus’s face and the smile stretching his lips. He couldn’t take it any more. He took a huge chance, grabbed Remus’s face with his hands, and captured his lips with his own.

They were soft, yet had a firmness to them when, to his surprise, they kissed him back. Remus wrapped his arms around him and Sirius melted into him. All the surrounding noise disappeared as he and Remus kissed. Someone could have been talking directly to him, and he wouldn’t have heard them, because at that moment only Remus mattered.

They broke away and stared at each other breathless and with uncertain eyes.

“Hi,” Sirius said, his voice cracking. Remus smiled at him.

“Hi,” And then he was kissing Sirius again and Sirius had never been happier.

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itsalliny0urhead · 3 months ago

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After Hours (sirius black x slytherin!femreader)

You and Sirius Black have hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a pureblood and a blood traitor — you were supposed to hate him. And for years, you played the part perfectly. The insults, the hexes, the glares across the Great Hall — it was all easy.

But it wasn’t real.

Because before Hogwarts, before sides, you and Sirius were close. Best friends. And somewhere along the way — between late-night detentions, stolen glances, and quiet confessions beneath the Quidditch stands — things changed.

sirius black x slytherin!femreader

The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the faint flicker of the torches along the cold stone walls. The chill of the night pressed against your skin, seeping through the thin fabric of your uniform. Your footsteps were nearly soundless on the worn stone floor — years of sneaking through Hogwarts had made you an expert at moving unnoticed.

You slipped around the corner of the one-eyed witch statue, heart thudding painfully in your chest as you approached the alcove near the edge of the Gryffindor tower. The sound of your pulse roared in your ears — but beneath it, you felt it. That pull in your chest, low and familiar. Like your body knew exactly where he would be.

He was already there, of course.

Sirius Black was leaning casually against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His black hair fell carelessly over his grey eyes as he rolled a cigarette between his fingers. The soft glow of the torchlight sharpened the cut of his cheekbones and cast shadows across his jaw. He was still wearing his uniform trousers and the white button-down — tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt untucked. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sharp cut of his forearms.

"You’re late," Sirius murmured, his mouth curling at the corner as his eyes swept lazily over you.

"You’re lucky I showed up at all," you shot back, stepping toward him. "Flint nearly caught me sneaking out."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what you’re saying is… you’d risk getting caught for me?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t let it go to your head."

His eyes darkened as you stopped in front of him. He reached out, his hand curling around your wrist. His thumb brushed over your pulse point — and he smiled faintly when he felt the way your heartbeat spiked beneath his touch.

"You always say that," Sirius murmured, his voice low and edged with quiet amusement. His hand slid up your arm, his touch feather-light. "And yet…"

Your heart hammered in your chest as he leaned in. His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The scent of him — smoke and soap and something dark — curled through your senses. You hated how easily it made you shiver.

"Sirius," you warned.

"What?" He smiled — that lazy, dangerous smile that made your stomach twist painfully. His hand slid down your side, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your sweater. "Afraid someone might see?"

Yes. Of course you were.

You and Sirius had hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thought. You were a Slytherin, a pureblood from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Your family had expected you to stick close to your own kind. And Sirius…

Sirius had left his family behind. He had thrown away his last name and everything it stood for — and you were supposed to hate him for that. And you had. For years, you’d thrown insults back and forth, sneered at each other in the Great Hall, hexed each other in the corridors — but it had always been a front.

Because once — before Hogwarts, before houses, before sides — you had been close. Best friends. He’d been the only person who could make you laugh until you cried, and you’d been the only one who could quiet the storm behind his eyes. And maybe that connection had never really gone away — not fully.

It had been easy to pretend to hate him at first. You were supposed to. You were a Slytherin, and he was a blood traitor — a Gryffindor. But then, sixth year happened. A late-night detention, a shared moment beneath the Quidditch stands — Sirius pressing his hand against your cheek and looking at you like you were something worth breaking rules for. And you had never recovered from it.

Now it was seventh year, and sneaking out to meet Sirius after curfew had become dangerously routine.

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered.

Sirius’s hand slid up your side, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of your sweater. His palm rested against the curve of your waist, just beneath your ribs.

"And yet…" He tilted his head, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw. "Here you are."

Your stomach flipped violently. "If someone sees—"

"Then I’ll tell them you attacked me." His lips curled against your skin. "Hexed me into submission. Forced me to kiss you."

"And if I told them you begged me?"

Sirius laughed — low and dark. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin behind your ear. You hated the way your body responded to him so easily — hated how fast your pulse was pounding beneath your skin.

"Begged?" Sirius repeated, his voice rough. "Do you want me to beg, love?"

You opened your mouth to snap back — but Sirius kissed you before you could.

It hit you like a hex to the chest.

His mouth was warm and demanding, his hand sliding beneath your sweater as he pulled you against him. His other hand threaded into your hair, tilting your head back as his lips moved over yours with quiet desperation. Sirius groaned softly when you curled your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

You gasped when his tongue slid across your bottom lip, and Sirius took advantage of the opening. He kissed you deeper — slow and deliberate — tasting you like he’d been thinking about it all day. His hand slid beneath the hem of your skirt, his thumb brushing against your bare thigh.

Sirius smiled against your mouth when you made a quiet, breathless noise. He pressed you back against the wall, his thigh sliding between yours as his hand curled around your waist. His lips moved down the curve of your jaw, pressing slow kisses to the hollow of your throat.

You were spiraling — completely undone by the way he was touching you, by the way he was holding you like you were fragile and precious and dangerous all at once. His mouth pressed beneath your ear, and you shivered.

"This is stupid," you whispered.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the edge of your skirt higher. His mouth ghosted over your pulse point. "But it feels good, doesn’t it?"

You didn’t answer — you couldn’t.

Sirius kissed you again — harder this time — his hand curling beneath your jaw. His lips parted against yours, and you let him deepen the kiss. You tasted smoke and warmth and something sharp beneath it. His hand slid up your side, beneath your sweater, fingers tracing the line of your ribs.

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless. Sirius’s eyes were dark, his lips flushed. His thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth.

"Don’t look so smug," you breathed.

"Can’t help it." Sirius grinned. "You always taste so sweet."

Your breath hitched. But before you could say anything, footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Sirius’s expression sharpened instantly. He took a step back, his hand sliding away from your waist. You hated the loss of contact — hated how easily he slipped back into that untouchable expression.

"Guess you’d better hex me now," he teased, his mouth curling at the corner. "Sell it."

You flicked your wand toward him — a harmless jinx that knocked him backward just as the prefects rounded the corner. Sirius hit the ground with a loud thump, groaning dramatically as he sprawled across the floor.

"Traitor," he mouthed.

You fought back a smile as the prefects helped him to his feet.

This was dangerous. This was stupid. This was Sirius Black.

And you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

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persephone-writes · 5 months ago

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A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty: And Then There Was You

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Nineteen - Chapter Twenty-One ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: You learn more about James's former pining, realizing there is less to fear than you initially thought.

Word Count: 5.6k

Notes: Chapter twenty, woop woop! Did not think this fic would ever get this long, but here we are! Thank you all so much for sticking with me so far <3

Three fifteen in the afternoon couldn’t come soon enough.

It was overcast, though the weather was warming ever so slowly as spring deepened. You were loitering near the wall boarding the vegetable path, the one you once sat against, crying in the rain after your fight with James. You had almost forgotten about it until now, the memory feeling like old news, as if it had happened years ago. So much had gone on since, so much to replace it. You hadn’t known it then, caught up in the idea that there was no way James could ever like you, but you each had nearly stumbled upon the other's secret. You had missed it by a hair, blinded by your insecurity, him by his immaturity. You knew now that he had been telling the truth, that he was worried you would be embarrassed, that through Mulciber’s words too much of himself would be given away, tainting an otherwise flowering friendship.

“I think I thought it’d embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. I know I should’ve just gotten over it, but…”

“You thought I’d be embarrassed. Give me a break.”

“Yeah, I did. And then after what you said last night—”

“Last night you acted like a child.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

You shook the thought from your head, turning towards the grass, bright and emerald even under the clouds. The bell tower rang, marking the end of the period. Right now Slughorn was watching his class pack up their things, his wand waving in the air to clean the cauldrons as James hurried out. You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed as you impatiently waited for him to arrive, your fingers buzzing.

Five minutes later you heard a noise, a small rustle of the grass in the distance. You searched but found no one there, only a stray squirrel scurrying across the lawn. Just as you wrote it off it happened again, the sound distinctly footsteps through the grass. You perked up, kicking off the wall as you reached for your wand.

“Psst!”

You whipped your wand from your pocket, spinning around to try and pinpoint where the voice had come from. “Hello?”

“It's me!”

You jumped, the sound coming right from behind you. You swung your arm to point your wand, though your hand hit something hard…and invisible. You dropped your hand, now more annoyed than anything.

“James,” you gritted, your eyes hard as you started into the empty space.

“Sorry, babe. Just taking precautions.” You could practically hear his smile, charming even if you couldn’t see it.

“I don’t think Lily will see us here, or anyone else, for that matter,” you whispered, your expression having softened. It was sweet, you realized, even if he was a bit ridiculous.

“It’s not just that. Mulciber could be hanging around, or that slime ball.”

“Slime ball?”

“He did try to poison you,” he argued.

“Why couldn’t we have gone to the RoR?” you asked, your eyes bouncing around, hoping you were landing somewhere near his face.

“They know where it is. Can’t have Sirius barging in,” he said, continuing before you could counter, “C’mon, lets go.”

“Where?”

“Over past the hill. You’d have to be at least on the sixth floor to see over it, and even then, you’d never be able to tell it was us.”

“All right,” you said, warily. “Just don’t let me bump into you.”

You walked out farther from the castle, stopping once you were over the hill as you waited for him to take off the cloak.

In a moment James pulled the cloak from himself, his hair mused and glasses crooked. He straightened them, loosening his tie before he balled up the cloak, shoving it into his charmed pocket.

“Everyone had charmed pockets but me,” you said with a frown.

“It’s illegal, y’know,” he teased, plopping down onto the grass. “Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble.”

His smile was like the sun as he looked up at you, his head motioning towards the spot beside him. As soon as you sat, shaking your head as you went to argue, you were cut short. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you down so he could look into your eyes. It was like he was dipping you, reminding you of all the times you’ve danced, how he always seemed to find a way to get you to succumb to his pleas. You smiled, practically beaming as he held you.

“I’ve never told you before, because I couldn’t,” you began, forcing yourself out of old habits of biting your tongue, “but I always liked when you danced with me.”

“Yeah?” he said, his hand moving up your arm and over your shoulder mindlessly. “Where’d this come from?”

“I don’t know,” you lied. It still felt odd to say such things to him, as if you had a reason to be embarrassed. I’m his girl, you recalled. I’m his and he’s mine. “I was just thinking about all the things I wanted to tell you before, but didn’t.”

His hand stopped moving, settling on your elbow. “I have a million of those.”

You propped yourself up, the grass tickling your ankles as you grew nearer. With an unusual burst of confidence, you brushed your nose against his, smirking as you felt his breath catch in his throat. In a split second he leaned forward, pulling you into his chest, your lips meeting, smooth like the small waves of the Black Lake lapping against the shore. Still, you had a million questions to ask, years worth of moments that needed revisiting. As you pulled away he brushed the side of your face, staring into your eyes.

“Tell me one,” you said, your faces still close. When he didn’t answer, your smirk grew playful, more like his than yours. “I told you one, it’s only fair.”

“That's not true. I told you one yesterday, about when you asked to do your project on Sleekeazy's.”

“It’s still your turn,” you challenged, watching as he caved to your will, his head lulling to the side.

He picked his head back up, his hand burning up where it still stroked your temple. “Old or new?”

“Dealer's choice.”

His eyes turned up towards the sky as he thought, the clouds reflected in his glasses. “Remember when Padfoot locked himself into Myrtle's bathroom?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “That was one of the best days of my life.”

This September they had been planning a prank in which they would somehow herd Severus into Myrtle's bathroom, only to have the door lock behind him with a particularly effective charm. It had taken days to perfect the spell and a great degree of careful planning to figure out how they were going to accomplish the feat, only for the door to close by accident, Sirius inside. Remus eventually broke him out, though Sirius was stuck for hours, forced to listen to Myrtle's endless whining and flirtatious advances.

“When we were all huddled around the door listening to him bitch, we were right next to each other and I put my arm around your shoulder. I felt pretty sly at the time,” as he spoke he grew more and more smug, looking at you as if he had won some imaginary game with rules only he knew.

You hit his arm, scowling at him without really meaning it. “Really?”

“Yes, and now it’s your turn. Diviner’s choice.”

“Very clever,” you droned, though you were unable to bite back your smile, peeking out on the corner of your lips. You thought about it for a moment, though you already knew what you were going to say. “That very corny speech you gave in the RoR to try and cheer me up. It’s like you were trying to kill me.”

He laughed, calm in a way you almost never were. “Now you know what it’s like looking at you everyday. You’re lucky I haven’t gotten up onto the table in the Great Hall to serenade you.”

“Please don’t,” you begged, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. You felt him vibrate as he laughed more, his hand forcing your head up again.

“I won’t, I promise,” he said, his head tilting as he looked across your face. His eyes softened, his smile dropping into something saccharine, sickening if you weren’t in love. “I’m so mad for you, Y/N, you don’t even know.”

You wondered how you could take it, listening to him speak to you this way without letting yourself slip up in public, knowing how he felt without ever being able to show it. You leaned in to kiss him again, your fingers in his hair, suspended by the feeling of him against you. With every beat of your heart you heard his voice, fluttering through the air like petals. You don’t even know, you don’t even know, you don’t even know.

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“What is up with you lately?”

You jumped, your head shooting to look at Marlene. The dungeons were dimly lit, just enough to shine against her blonde hair. She was staring at you with narrowed eyes, her arms propped on her knees as you both sat on the staircase, waiting for Lily to finish speaking with Professor Slughorn in his office. Why she couldn’t wait until she had his class, you and Marlene could never say.

“Nothing,” you said, tensing up when she cocked her head, her mouth moving to the side as he considered you. “Really.”

“You’ve been spacey, more than usual,” she said plainly, raising her brows.

You clenched your jaw, too nervous to comment on her characterization of you, which any other time you would’ve found mildly insulting. “I’m just stressed about the N.E.W.T.s.”

You had been studying more lately, spending much of Wednesday going over advanced Astronomy notes, staying in the tower for hours that evening for your weekly observations. Despite this, Marlene was still staring at you, dubious and calculating. After a beat her eyes widened, scaring you more than you’d like to admit.

“I know what it is,” she said as if she had some great realization.

You looked away, your leg bouncing on the step. “Enlighten me, then.”

“What happened this weekend?” she asked, leaning forward to try and catch your eyes. “Did you and him, y’know…?”

You tried to remain expressionless, forcing your gaze to remain forward, though your efforts were in vain. A smile broke out onto her face, her hands coming to squeeze your knees in excitement.

“No way, no way!”

Somehow, it seemed as though you always ended up here, hoping no one would hear her sequels of glee at every new development in your love life. You sent her a stern look, shushing her as you glanced around the corridor.

“This is the best day of my life,” she shrieked. Thankfully, her voice dropped down to a whisper, though she was still working to contain her fervor, “Great Godric, this is bloody fantastic!”

“You have to be quiet,” you scolded, your eyes darting to the office door. This was the last place in the world you wanted to have this conversation.

Marlene bent down to make herself smaller as if it would conceal her voice, completely giddy. “What happened? What exactly happened?”

“We can’t talk about this here,” you said, your hands pulling unconsciously at your sleeves. “Wait until we’re alone or something—”

“Did you tell him, or did he tell you?” Her eyes were shining with an exuberance you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in her before, her teeth gnawing at her lip. “Did you snog? Please tell me you snogged!”

Knowing she wouldn’t leave you alone unless you partially appeased her, you grumbled, “Yes and yes.”

“You told him or he told you?” she asked hurriedly.

“I don’t know, maybe both?” you whispered, your cheeks already on fire. “And please, for the love of all things good in the world, keep your voice down.”

You looked back at the door again, though it was still safely closed, for now.

“So, what did he say? Was it all chivalrous, or did he, like, take you in his arms like the covers of those books Lily always makes fun of—”

“This is a new low, even for you, Marls,” you said, your face dropping.

Her eyes narrowed as she pointed a finger in your direction. “If you don’t tell me everything, and I mean everything, I am going to be so cross with you— Wait! Does anyone else know?”

“No, and you better not tell anyone, especially Sirius. He’s just settled down with all his crap. I’m not sure how much of it I could take now.”

“Now?” she asked, her voice lifting up in delight. “Are you guys together, like a couple, in secret? That's so romantic— did he ask you to be his girlfriend?”

You let your face fall into your hands with a groan, rubbing at your eyes. It was only Thursday and you had already managed to allow Marlene in on your secret, which was not a good sign.

“Please, can we wait until later?” you mumbled into your palms.

You could hear her about to whine, cut short by the office door opening. You looked up, Marlene shooting back to sit up straight again. Lily emerged, none of the wiser to your conversation as she looked over at you.

You stood, glancing down at Marlene with a stern look. She rolled her eyes, standing up as well.

“Ready?” you asked, turning back to Lily.

“There's another Slug Club this weekend, so I won’t be around this Saturday night,” she said, following you each up the steps to the ground floor, the cold air of the dungeons replaced by the warmth of the main castle.

“That's a drag,” Marlene said, kicking an imaginary stone.

You frowned dramatically towards Lily. “What ever will we do without you?”

She shoved you with her shoulder, laughing as you stumbled to the side. You laughed along, shooting more daggers at Marlene when she looked at you with an elated, sweet smile.

“Let's have fun tomorrow, then,” you continued.

“That's if James lets us go out without the you-know-what,” Marlene huffed. “I can’t believe they haven’t found it yet.”

“They’ve been looking almost every night,” Lily whiserped, leaning in towards you and Marlene. “Remus still can’t break that charm on Filch’s office.”

Marlene sighed again, crossing her arms as you walked outside, the ground damp from fresh rain. “This is such bull. I have a bottle of Firewhiskey and everything. If they don’t find it tonight we’re going to the RoR whether James likes it or not.”

You snorted, knowing there was a row between James and Marlene in the near future. “You can try.”

Marlene smirked, throwing her bag down onto the bench with all the confidence in the world. “He talks a big game, but we all know who's better at getting their way.”

“No.”

“Come on,” Marlene whined, her fists balled as she stood in front of James. She looked like a spoiled child begging her father for a pony, enough to make you and Dorcas snicker as you watched them from the sofa. James’s cheeks were still ruddy from quidditch, his striped uniform jumper fitted across his arms and chest, all enough to make you want to ogle. He had stayed later than Sirius to help run drills with a second year, much to your chagrin, though you were always happy to see him after practice no matter what time he arrived.

“No,” James said again, spinning around to walk away from her.

Marlene followed behind, making another noise of discontent as he flopped down beside you. “This is ridiculous and you know it.”

“She has a point, James,” said Lily, who you had thus far expected to stay out of it. However, it seemed as though her trust in Dumbledore superseded her usual caution.

James remained unconvinced, looking to the others for help. “You guys agree, don’t you?”

Peter, growing nervous under the scrutiny, nodded.

Sirius was only half paying attention, reading a muggle motor magazine with the dutifulness he should have given to his schoolwork. “Yeah, sure, Prongs.”

Remus only shrugged, peering into the fire. He glanced behind him at Marlene, his mouth tight. “It’s only been two weeks.”

“Nearly three,” she challenged, still holding her ground as she stared back at him.

Remus sighed, meeting James’s eyes for a moment before looking back to her, almost pleading. “Give us some time to find it.”

“Exactly. We’re not miracle workers, here,” James said, throwing up a hand.

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”

“Marlene’s right. I think we should,” said Dorcas, leaning forward so she could look at James on the other side of the sofa. “I’ve barely gotten a chance to listen to the radio.”

“I’ll let you borrow it,” James said, clearly none too pleased that his friends were slowly succumbing to Marlene’s protests. Still, you didn’t think much would come of it, given how stubborn he could be.

Dorcas fell back into the sofa with huff, her mouth pulled to the side. “This is such bollocks.”

“Thank you!” Marlene said, motioning to her. “See, James? You’re being completely and utterly—”

“What do you think I should name my bike?” Sirius asked, looking over the top of his magazine.

“You’re naming your bike?” Marlene asked, her eyes ready to roll into the back of her head.

He let the magazine drop onto his chest, unfazed by her dismissal. “If you’re not gonna be supportive, I don’t want to hear it.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “We were having a conversation, you know.”

“I want something cool,” Sirius began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “but not too cool like I’m trying, or anything.”

“Yeah, cause we can’t have anyone thinking that,” Marlene said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Do you have it running yet?” you asked, Marlene shaking her head as Sirius continued to scowl at her from the armchair.

Remus snorted. “Of course, he doesn’t.”

Sirius, now grumpy, nearly gasped in offense. “What's up with the negativity, you twat. It’s not like I can work on it while we’re here. Besides, it is running. It just can’t fly yet.”

“Where do you have it stored, anyway?” Lily asked.

“The kitchen,” Sirius answered, as if it was an entirely normal place to keep a motorbike.

Dorcas laughed in disbelief, “The kitchen?”

Sirius shrugged. “Where else am I going to keep it?”

“Why do you need to name it, anyway?” James said, an impish smile playing on his lips. He was only trying to get him going, and it seemed as though it was going to work.

Sirius looked at him as if it were obvious. “Cause it’s badass.”

“What about Bowie?” Dorcas suggested, surprisingly taking his predicament seriously. “Nothing cooler than him.”

“Aren’t bikes supposed to be girls? Like ships?” Peter asked, glancing around for confirmation.

Lily perked up, her eyes brightening. “Yes. It’s actually pretty interesting. It comes from a superstition regarding goddesses of protection—”

Sirius groaned, slumping further into his chair. “Thanks for getting her going, Wormtail.”

James shook his head, ignoring the impending bickering match as he turned to you. He leaned in a bit closer, your shoulders touching. “Want to practice? We haven’t in a while, don’t want you getting rusty.”

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked, fighting the urge to let yourself fall into him further.

His smile was enough to convince you of anything, though he gave you an excuse anyway. “It’s only quarter to five.”

You sighed, though it was all show, standing up and looking down at him expectantly. “Come on, then.”

“Where’re you two going?” Sirius asked as James stood, smirking devilishly at the two of you.

You turned to him with a shrug, doing your best show of nonchalance. “To practice, where else?”

“I could think of a few—”

“Don’t you have Arithmancy homework?” James interrupted, doing nothing to hide his growing irritation.

“Fuck off, Prongs. I did it yesterday,” Sirius said, throwing his magazine to the side.

Marlene let out a single bark of laughter, holding a hand to her mouth as she turned her face away. Everyone looked at her, Lily utterly perplexed as she let out another snort.

“Lay off the Chocolate Cauldrons, Marls,” Dorcas snapped, halfway between a joke and an insult.

Everyone grew quiet, even more so than before. Peter’s eyes were wide as they darted this way and that, never settling on anyone in particular. Marlene dropped her hand, quietly clearing her throat as her head bent towards the floor. You remained motionless beside James, your mouth closing and then snapping shut again.

“We’ll see you guys at dinner,” said James, turning to leave the common room. You hurried to catch up, looking back to see everyone watching as you stepped out.

“Does she…?” James asked once you were a ways down the corridor, safe from prying ears.

You nodded solemnly, your face contorting in mild indignity. “Yeah, sorry. She guessed on her own, must’ve seen it on my face. Apparently I’m not exactly good at keeping it from her.

James clicked his tongue, lost in thought. “She won’t say anything if she hasn’t already.”

“That's if she can contain her excitement,” you chuckled, dry and only half sincere. “She’s almost as happy as I am.”

He turned to you as you came upon the wall, a jaunty grin plastered onto his face. “So, you’re happy?”

You shook your head at him, standing to the side as he began to walk back and forth to reveal the entrance. “You think?”

You stood beside him as the door slowly revealed itself, his smile not having left. You were the first to push it open, glancing over your shoulder as he slipped inside behind you. “Wanted to get me alone, did you?”

“Hanging out with you around the others is good and all,” he began, waltzing over to you, “but having to hide it is pretty tiring.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that made you grow warm in the face.

“Are we really practicing, then?” you asked. “Or is this just some big ploy?”

He smirked. “We probably should. Don’t want you getting rusty.”

You took a step back, his hands dropping for your shoulders. “How boring,” you drawled, making your way across the room.

“I think you mean studious!”

“I know what I said,” you said, pulling your wand from your pocket. “Bring it, Potter.”

James refused to use any advanced spells on you since you got hurt, sticking to hexes and jinxes that could be easily remedied if you were unable to block them. Still, it was good practice, even if you were only throwing up shields against the Bat Bogey hex.

It was nearing dinner when you forced him to stop, insisting that he needed to eat after two separate practices. He allowed you to dote on him for a second, soon pestering you to stay just a while longer.

“Come on, when's the next time we’ll be alone?”

You looked down at him where he was sitting on the floor, his smile nearly inviting enough to persuade you. You checked your watch, sighing as you saw the time.

“We only have fifteen minutes. They’ll come looking for us if we stay any longer,” you said, though it didn’t seem to get through to him.

“We’ll hear them outside the door,” he countered, tapping your ankle with the tip of his shoe. “You’re hurting my feelings, here.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a primadonna.”

His grin only widened, his foot tapping you again. You sighed, sitting down in front of him with the knowledge he would likely tease you over the way you gave in so soon.

Surprisingly he didn’t, instead throwing himself into your lap, resting his head on your legs with a pleased look. You began to laugh, growing nervous the way you did before Saturday night, before the beginning of your unconventional relationship.

“What’re you doing?”

He looked up at you, his head lifting a fraction as a hesitance made its way into his expression, once utterly content. “Do you want me to get up?”

“No,” you said, still giggling, “don’t.”

He smiled, almost boyish beside his cherubic curls, barely contained by his fathers invention. He put his head back down, his hands resting on his stomach as if he were laying on a beach someplace far away, basking in the sunlight. He closed his eyes, his lashes dark against his cheeks. You ran a hand over his hair, your thumb brushing across the tail of his brow.

“James?” you began, your voice low. “When did you, y’know, really start to fancy me?”

It felt easier to say at a whisper, like it could hide the glaring hindrance to an otherwise untainted story. You knew he must’ve recognized what you were asking: when did you start to fall out of love with Lily and into love with me?

He opened his eyes, meeting yours before they drifted away, down to your chin.

“I don’t really know. It wasn’t all at once,” he said after a moment of silence. “Right before we all went home for Christmas last year it started to feel different with her. Whatever we had had worn off, and when it wasn’t exciting,” he faltered, his head turning to look away, over towards the door. “I guess it just became something we were both doing even if we didn’t really know why.”

“I’m sorry– I,” you stuttered, feeling like you should speak, but not knowing what to say.

“Don’t be.” He sat up, brushing a hand over the side of your neck, his fingers inching up to your ear as if it were a work of art all on its one. “I could see it on her face. The novelty had worn off. Once we came back to school, everything we did pissed each other off. When she said we should break up, it wasn’t hard not to argue.”

“You don’t have to tell me this. I should’ve asked,” you said softly, shame creeping up on you.

He shook his head, reaching down to grab your hand, cradling it in his.

“I want you to know. I want you to know that you have nothing to feel guilty about. You did nothing wrong, Y/N,” he paused, sighing as he held your index finger, moving on to your middle, then your ring, stopping there to gaze at it, to hold it. “I knew I was in trouble when I was back home, ‘cause I kept writing you letters and throwing them into the fireplace before I sent them. Lily and I— it’d take us days to write each other back, but if you had written me, I would’ve sent an owl within the hour. Then…that's when I knew.” He dropped your hand, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that nearly scared you. “Lily and I weren’t right for each other. She knew it and I knew it, and it was just a matter of time before we broke up. Me fancying you, it just made it happen quicker. All you did was save us a few months of arguing.”

“I’m sorry I always seem to bring her up,” you said, a deep, poignant melancholy making its way into a moment that should’ve been happy, without the burdens of outside forces. Still, you couldn’t help but think of her, your best friend.

“You didn’t, I did,” he said, his voice laced with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “And don’t say you're sorry. I should be sorry. I was stupid, I was so bloody stupid I’m surprised you’re even in love with me.”

You furrowed your brows, the thought of not loving him almost impossible to conceive. “What d’you mean?”

His gaze grew distant, though not entirely unreachable, foggy around the edges. “I liked the idea of Lily, and I was dumb enough to think that the longer I was with her the more she’d be like the person I made her out to be in my mind. But she wasn’t,” he spoke slowly, sure in every word he said. His eyes met yours again, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “She was Lily, who’s fantastic, but she's not the girl I fell in love with. For a while I thought I did– thought I fell in love with her— but I was just kidding myself. I had no fucking idea what love was,” his words burst from him in the same way he sat with bated breath during a quidditch match, screaming at the top of his lungs when his team scored. You saw in his eyes only earnestness, the image of a young man taken up in something bigger than himself.

Suddenly, his shoulders relaxed, licking his lips as he looked at you fondly. “And then there was you. And I know I’m in love with you, because if I’m not, then no one has ever been in love before.”

You stared back at him, a small part of your insecurities fading into the background where they could live with your old self, the one who didn’t know James as you knew him now. He continued to surprise you, even though you should’ve been used to the way he spoke so fervently. Sometimes his words stumbled from him onto unsteady ground, imperfect and lacking some finer complexities, though now was not one of those times. You knew precisely what he meant, and it made you want to cry.

“James,” you said, no more than a whisper, your eyes growing glassy. “I don’t know what to say— I never know what to say.”

He touched your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I do,” you began, reaching up to hold his wrist. “You can’t just say all of that and then expect me not to have anything to say back.”

“Yes I can,” he said, shaking his head. “I fucked up before, and I’m gonna make sure I don’t fuck it up again. I’ll tell you everything that happened with me and her, everything I ever thought about you, the whole thing. And maybe one day, whenever you feel like it, you can tell me everything that happened before Saturday. But I’m not gonna ask, ‘cause you don’t have to. Never feel like you have to.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your grip tightened on his wrist, rushing forward to kiss him. His hand remained on your face, rubbing at your cheek, cradling your jaw as you pushed at the sleeve of his jumper. Your head felt light the way it did when you chain smoked after a party, when everything you touched felt realer, more alive than the living.

“Thank you,” you said, only inches away from his mouth. You were breathless, pecking him once before speaking again, “I want to— tell you, I mean.”

His eyes were blown out under his glasses, his lips daringly pink. “What do you want to tell me?” he asked, speaking much the same.

“I don’t know, just something.” You laughed a bit, brushing some hair off his forehead. You thought of everything that came before, back to the very beginning. “Before we were friends, before I really knew you, I didn’t really like you.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel good?” he chuckled.

“No— well, yeah, I guess. It’s just that you were so charming. Everyone seemed to love you, even the professors, even though you were a giant pain in the arse.”

James pushed your shoulder lightly, breaking your confession with a laugh. You did the same, trying to push down your nerves enough to continue.

“You just seemed to shine,” you said, swallowing some lingering uncertainty, “like this ray of light that forced you to look. But I thought it was all on purpose, that you were charming on purpose, and maybe if I looked hard enough I could see through your act. But after we started to become friends, it was blinding, you were blinding, because I knew that it was real,” you stopped, realizing that what you were saying was mildly insulting. You looked at James, though he didn’t seem offended. On the contrary, he was staring at you in a strange sort of amazement, as if you had described something otherwise indescribable.

“When I knew you, really knew you, I finally understood why everyone loved you. I fought against it for a long time, because I knew once I was in, I was never getting out. I couldn’t help it, and it started to eat me up inside. I don’t really remember exactly, but by last Christmas it was stressing me out, because I knew I had a crush on my friend's boyfriend. I thought that maybe it would go away, but it never did. It wasn’t until a month ago that I realized I loved you, or at least admitted it to myself.”

“Don’t give me a big head,” he said, slowly breaking out into a grin.

“It’s too late for that,” you teased, happy when he kissed you again, just once.

“I have you beat, though,” he said, pulling away. You only looked at him with furrowed brows, completely confused. “I wrote you a letter on Halloween when I was absolutely pissed. It said ‘I’m in love with you, I’m sorry,’” he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I wish I had kept it, would’ve been funny to have now.”

“That long?” you asked, your heart leaping.

“What can I say? You’re easy to love.”

Chapter Twenty-One

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Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

#james potter x reader #james potter/reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fluff #marauders era #james potter #james potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp marauders #marauders fandom

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httpvomitello · 3 months ago

Note

Title: "Falling for the Captain"Background:

Y/N can’t stand Oliver’s overbearing leadership on the Quidditch team, but when the two of you are forced to work together during an intense match, something shifts, and you realize there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Hellooo, i hope you like it ~ ♡

Bludgers and Butterflies .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: You’ve never been Oliver Wood’s biggest fan.

oliver wood x f!reader

“Wood, if you blow that damn whistle one more time, I swear I’m throwing it into the lake.”

Oliver turned to you, sweaty, red-faced, and with that determined sparkle in his eyes. “We’re twenty points behind Slytherin in the Cup standings. We don’t have time to slack off.”

You hovered a few feet above him, broom slightly tilted in your impatience. “We’ve been at this for three hours.”

“And we’ll stay another three if we have to.”

Groans erupted from the team around you. Angelina looked like she might cry. Katie Bell muttered something about staging a mutiny.

You gritted your teeth. “You know, maybe if you coached with a little less… fire and brimstone, your team might actually like you.”

That struck a nerve. Oliver’s jaw clenched. “This team doesn’t need to like me. They need to win.”

You rolled your eyes and flew off before you said something you’d regret. Or worse—before you said something that might reveal how infuriatingly attractive he looked when he was passionate about something.

Because that was the problem. You didn’t want to like him.

You’d joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, expecting strategy and teamwork, but you hadn’t counted on Oliver Wood: the captain who treated every practice like it was the bloody Quidditch World Cup. He was dramatic. Obsessive. Tirelessly committed.

And a little too handsome for someone you couldn’t stand.

The day of the match against Ravenclaw came with wind so strong it threatened to knock you off your broom. It was a brutal day—perfect Quidditch weather in Oliver’s book.

“We need to work as one,” he said in the huddle, practically vibrating with adrenaline. “No loose plays. Communicate. Trust your instincts.”

You glanced away, already dreading the three-hour headache this game would become. But when you caught him looking at you—really looking, not barking orders or giving feedback—something softened behind his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, quieter. “I need you focused today. I’m counting on you.”

You blinked. “Me?”

He nodded. “You’ve got the best reading of the pitch. You can see a play form before it even happens. We need that.”

A compliment? From Oliver?

For a second, it stunned you into silence. Then you nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

The match was hell. Rain, wind, and Ravenclaw’s Chasers were in perfect sync.

You were dodging Bludgers and shouting plays when you suddenly felt it—a shift in movement—and knew exactly what was coming.

“Left flank, now!” you screamed, cutting through the rain.

Oliver, without hesitation, followed your call. Together, you intercepted Ravenclaw’s Chaser, stole the Quaffle, and made a clean score that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

For the rest of the match, it was like that—he trusted you. You trusted him. No barking orders, no dramatic speeches, just two players moving in tandem like they’d done it for years.

When the Snitch was finally caught (Harry, bless him, always reliable), Gryffindor exploded in cheers. You barely registered the final score before Oliver barreled into you in a hug that knocked you off your feet and onto the muddy pitch.

“You were brilliant!” he shouted, grinning down at you, completely soaked.

You blinked up at him, heart thudding. “You listened to me.”

“I always listened,” he said softly. “You just never noticed.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest second—just long enough for you to notice—then darted back to your eyes. “Look, I know I can be… intense.”

“That’s an understatement.”

He laughed, running a hand through his soaked hair. “But you—Godric, you push back. You’re not afraid to stand up to me. And I—” He hesitated, for once struggling to find the words. “I like that. I like you.”

Your heart flipped.

“I didn’t think you noticed me beyond yelling drills,” you admitted.

“I’ve noticed everything about you.”

You opened your mouth, but words failed. So instead, you leaned up and kissed him. Just briefly. Just enough.

When you pulled back, Oliver looked dazed—and happier than you’d ever seen him.

“Still want to throw my whistle into the lake?” he asked breathlessly.

You grinned. “Only if you stop using it during breakfast.”

He laughed, pulling you into another hug. “Deal.”

Quidditch practices didn’t get any easier. Oliver was still intense. He still gave dramatic locker room speeches. He still clutched his broom like it was a lifeline.

But now, when he barked too many orders, you’d fly past him and ruffle his hair. When he tried to keep the team late, you’d bribe him with a kiss and a promise of reviewing strategy later in the common room.

And Oliver?

He stopped blowing that damn whistle at every minor error.

Progress.

#reader #x reader #y/n #f!reader #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #oliver wood x female reader #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #x female reader #female reader #gryffindor #quidditch

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smut-anarchy · 6 months ago

Text

Own Me - Prologue

Summary: You accidentally broke a priceless relic and got caught. The Slytherin heir himself, Mattheo Riddle, makes it simple: you do what he says and no one finds out; the catch is, he owns you now and he'll do whatever he wants with your mind... and your body.

Tags: Dubious Consent, Dom!Mattheo, Gryffandor!Reader, Cursing, Blackmail (More Tags Later)

Rewritten As Of: 12/26/2024

Word Count: 1,917 Words

A/N: Years ago I watched Ouran High School Host Club (iykyk) and then this past weekend I finished the amazing @iniquitousyearning (formerly @slytherinslut0) Beg For Me Series (seriously go read it) and I was totally inspired by the two, thus Own Me was born! I've never written smut before so be patient with me. All my love and I hope you enjoy! XOXO - Angel

This was such a stupid fucking way to die.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t go that far. But as a Gryffindor, sneaking into the Slytherin common was still one of the worst things you could do, right along with standing under the Whomping Willow blindfolded or wandering into the nearby Acromantula den. Yet still, you were here, stupidly, because Daphne Greengrass had taken your wand.

“Little mudblood lions who don’t know their place don’t get their wands. I think it’ll look great collecting dust in one of the Slytherin vases.”

Bitch. One could argue that prior to her theft of your wand you had been stoking the fires of her ire by callings her an “inbred wretch in pearls with the intelligence of a toadstool” though you’d found her more than deserving after catching her picking on a small group of second years. I mean seriously, what kind of asshole picks on a bunch of twelve year olds?

So now, here you were, sticking your face through every fucking vase in the Slytherin common room, desperately searching for your wand before any Slytherin happened upon you. Dinner in the great hall would only last another twenty minutes so if you didn’t find it in the next ten minutes your only options were to somehow hide from every Slytherin until everyone was asleep and search then or leave and tell Snape, and telling Snape meant house points deductions and surely some ridicule and detentions. Between the options of hell no and fuck no your panic was rising, making you feel jittery and unbearably stressed. Why the fuck does Slytherin have this many vases in their common room?! They don’t even have flowers!

There was only one vase left, it had to be in there, unless Daphne was a liar, which wasn’t completely off the table either. Regrettably, it was the largest vase, towering a good foot above your head. It was jade green, with intricate gold details, and for whatever reason it seemed to give off an ominous feeling, as if it was watching you. With how tall the vase was you had no idea how you were going to get your wand out, but the clock was ticking and you only had about two minutes before you absolutely had to get out of there or risk being found. If my wand is in there I am going to hex the shit out of Daphne.

The vase sat between a bookcase and the fireplace, so as carefully as you could you used the bookshelves to leverage yourself up just enough to peek into the vase. And there, at the bottom of the vase was your wand. Climbing further up the shelves and using the stone mantle to support your body, you lowered your top half into the vase, stretching your arms in an attempt at reaching your wand. You were nowhere near being able to reach your wand, so you figured you could slip in further, grab your wand, and then use the fireplace and bookcase to pull yourself out. Good plan!

Using a small amount of force to propel your lower half from the book case you clumsily tumbled into the large vase, your body folding in half at the bottom of the vase. Unfortunately, due to your focus you neglected to hear the click of the common room door opening.

Your body’s ungracious fall in the vase rocked it back and forth, swirling you and your wand at the bottom, before it tipped too far right and toppled to the ground, shattering it and releasing you and your wand.

Your head was still dazed from your plunge into the vase, but you opened your eyes to behold your wand in front of you.

“Fuck yes! I did it!” You cheered. Although a hollow victory, since you destroyed a Slytherin vase, but you’d promised to reparo it before you left and no one would be the wiser.

No one, that is except the owners of the eyes on you. You’d looked to your right and there, sitting stunned on the common room couches were the worst five people who could have witnessed you: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Enzo Berkshire, Theo Nott and Mattheo Riddle.

Fuck.

Not one word was uttered. You looked between the shocked boys, you were in direct line of the door. If you’d went around the couches they’d surely grab you or have time to get in front of you and stop you, but if you went right down the middle, using the table between them to leap off you’d make it to the door and sprint so far away before they’d have time to catch you.

No time to think about logistics you’d lept up, grabbing your wand and ran towards them, leaping on the table and dashing across the surface, using the end to spring towards the door.

“Oh no you don’t! Incarcerous!”

While you were mid-air ropes wrapped around your legs and wrists, bringing you dropping to the ground with a painful “oof”.

You rolled over, seeing Draco as the caster of the spell, wearing a smug grin on his face.

“Hey boys,” you squeaked, “This is all just a misunderstanding! Let me out of these ropes and we could talk, yeah?”

“I forget, do misunderstandings usually have the accused running away from their crime?” Theo questioned amusingly, his face holding an interested smirk.

“Listen, one of your housemates stole my wand and threw it in there and I was just trying to get it back, okay? I didn’t mean to break it and I would’ve repaired it and slipped out before anyone knew I was here.” You attempted to shimmy your wrists out of the ropes but to no avail, their tightness giving you a slight chaffing burn on your delicate skin.

The boys stared at you puzzled, before jeering smiles cracked onto their faces and they burst into rowdy laughter.

“You have no idea what you broke, do you little lion?” Enzo teased, his eyes alight with mischief and cruel enjoyment.

Their laughter and amusement was stirring an unsetting feeling in your gut. These boys had a reputation of being completely sadistic to those who crossed them, having them mock you was filling you with unease and panic. You shook your head at them, trying to display a neutral reaction to their taunts.

“You broke an enchanted vase, lion. It can’t be repaired.” Blaise snickered.

Oh no. Fuck. Fuckitty Fuck.

You called upon all of your strength to not let your dread show. You steeled your mouth into a hard line and glared your eyes.

“Okay fine, so I broke an ugly, big, magical vase. I’m sorry. Can I please leave now?”

Enzo and Draco were laughing in full on howls now, with Blaise and Theo sniggering to each other, sharing silent jokes between themselves. You made eye contact with Mattheo, who oddly had not said a word and was not sounding his hilarity like the others. His face held a mocking sneer, but his eyes, those obsidian black calculating eyes, stared at you, as if he was curious of this lion who had wandered into their viper den.

“You don’t sound sorry.” His voice cracked through the laughter, the other boys sounds dying out at his voice.

“It wasn’t intentional and like I said, I was here because my wand was stolen and I-“

“Funny you should say that,” he interrupted, the edge in his voice seeping into your bones like ice, “I’m sure not a single Slytherin would admit to doing such a thing. So really, all we know for sure is that you broke into our common room and broke a thousands of years old enchanted relic from Salazar Slytherin.”

Your mouth dried up, anxiety going haywire throughout your body. On the one hand, your pride did not want to apologize to this absolutely smug, antagonistic Slytherin group, especially since it wasn’t your fault you were here to begin with. On the other hand, you broke a priceless, unfixable treasure from the fucking founder of Slytherin, if Snape found out he’d take you to Dumbledore, you would get expelled.

A cold sweat covered your body, fear clawing your throat and your eyes building up water. “I-I didn’t know, I swear. I would never sneak in here to do something like that on purpose. Please, I’ll do anything to make up for it.”

Mattheo’s intense gaze twitched in interest, “Anything?” You nodded your head earnestly, still feeling the nervous panic tingling through out your body.

“Untie her.” Mattheo snapped. Enzo and Blaise were the first to come out of the fascination in watching you and Mattheo, getting to work quickly on your ankles and wrists. Upon being freed from the binds you rubbed your wrists, slightly raw from the scratchy rope. You stared up at Mattheo, worry etched into your face.

“Seeing as I’m the heir of Slytherin, I think I’ll see to your punishment. And if you take it like a good little lion, no one will ever know about this.”

Mattheo’s words only further plunged you into terror. Whatever he had planned for you, you already knew it would be unbearably painful for your mind, spirit and body. Still, trying to maintain your Gryffindor courage, you nodded in understanding.

“From this moment on, I own you. If I ask you to come, you will, immediately. If I ask you to do something, you will do it, no questions asked and to my satisfaction. If at any point you defy me, every single shard will be on Dumbledore’s desk faster than you can say ‘Godric’, do you understand?”

Utter sorrow wracked your body, your freedom for as long as you were at this school was trapped in the hands of a vicious sadist. Merlin knows what he’d have you do, thinking on it alone filled you with remorse so deep it would echo into your bones long into the night. But this was the only option, expulsion meant no more Hogwarts, no contact with your friends, no future in magic. You somberly nodded, not able to verbally confirm without choking on the words.

“No. Use your words, pet.” Your anger roared inside you at the title, how dare he reduce you this low? To strip you of your autonomy and independence and then demean you with such an inferior name. Your inner lion burned to disobey, to unleash the full extent of your temper on this arrogant, immoral devil of a man who goaded you with such humiliation.

“Yes, I understand.” You bit out, not bothering to hide the venom in your tone. Mattheo almost preened at the bite in your voice, clearly amused by your fury.

“Good, now get out before someone sees you. Meet me in the outside of the common room at precisely 7AM, not a second after.”

Your eyes glanced back at the other Slytherin boys who had been captivated by the whole interaction, your eyes begging for some kind of help that you knew you weren’t going to get.

You gathered your wand and sprinted out the door as fast as you could. You ran as far as you could away from the treacherous dungeons where you’d lost so much more than you gained. And when you finally made it to your dorm room, after your lungs burned and wheezed, you finally let yourself cry. Your wrath and despair melting together to cocoon you against the horrible truth: Mattheo Riddle owned you.

#mattheo smut #smutanarchyfics #smutanarchyworks #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #first series #be nice to me I'm still learning

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