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getaway car | mattheo riddle x reader

song; getaway car [taylor swift] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!muggle!reader genre; s2l, forced proximity, angst, hurt comfort, smut word count; 9,6k timeline; harry dies au, deathly hallows warnings; swearing, reference to death, torture, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering, outdoor sex, minor character deaths, reference to injury, violence, discrimination (of muggle-borns) summary;what if something good started in a getaway car?

this is unedited btw!!

MINORS DNI [18+].

masterlist

"think about the place where you first met me."

—————————————————

Arguably, it was ridiculous that your biggest problem at that moment was whether or not you would have red or green pesto: you had places that you needed to be, like purchasing coffee for your demanding boss. The same demanding boss that had coerced you into signing a contract that forced you to join him on his business trips as his assistant: which was how you found yourself staying in a motel on your journey to meet up with one of his trade partners.

As the panic set in, you hurriedly picked up the green pesto and grabbed some pasta, before heading over to the counter. You didn't pay any mind to the tinkling of the bell, or the two men in cloaks entering afterwards; but as you turned around with your items bought, you caught a glimpse of the thin wooden sticks each of them clutched. That led you to follow their line of vision to another hooded man lurking in the corner. Every organ inside you twisted, alerting you that something was likely to go down, despite the peculiarity of the situation. You turned back to worriedly look at the cashier, who seemed to have a similar feeling, and gestured for you to get behind the counter.

The instinct was right: it was a flash before Latin words were shouted, followed by beams of light, making you duck out of view. Crashing sounds of shelves falling quickly followed, as well as more Latin. Your nerves spiked, and the cashier spared you a glance as his breathing became more rapid too.

It quickly became apparent that your hiding place was futile, because you were both soon grabbed by the two cloaked men. You felt as if your senses were betraying you when you realised that you were levitating in mid-air, unable to move or speak.

"Come with us, Riddle, or we kill these two muggles," the man below you spoke.

"Tch, why would I care about muggles?"

"We know you don't willingly let innocent people die. Some Dark Lord's son you are."

"I am not defined by my father." Riddle's hood had fallen back, revealing curly brown hair and piercing eyes.

The man behind the cashier hadn't said a word, and as you tried your best to frantically scan his features while you processed the muggle-talk; you couldn't help but notice how emotionless and empty he looked. Like an uninhabited vessel. "I haven't killed a muggle in a while."

Riddle scoffed, "You hate muggle-borns, not muggles."

"Ah, but the rush is so sweet..." the man below you moved his eyes, peeking out from under his cloak, to look at you, "Muggles are useless, anyway."

The man muttered another Latin word, and you screamed. Unimaginable pain was coursing through your bloodstream, like you were being torn apart and set on fire all at once.

"Now agree to come with us, or I'll keep going."

"I'm not going with you."

You watched the man look towards his accomplice and nod, and watched in horror as the emotionless man muttered Latin resulting in the cashier dropping to the floor: lifeless. You couldn't dwell on it though, as the feeling of pain throughout you was ever present.

More Latin emerged, and you painfully looked to your side to see the emotionless man fall to the ground next to the cashier. You felt the man torturing you become distracted, making the agony halt and dropping you to the ground, landing on top of him. The lingering torment and impact from falling made you groan as the man threw you off of him. Riddle aimed a beam of light towards him, and you watched meekly as they began a strangely magical variant of fighting. The man snarled and sent a blast of light from his stick in your direction, making you wince and cover your head.

But no contact arrived: something blocked it, instantly followed by the cloaked man collapsing.

You stumbled to your feet as Riddle ran towards you and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and pelting towards the exit. "What- what are you doing?"

"Just shut up if you want to live."

The man climbed to his feet and followed behind, and you watched as Riddle sent a blast of blue light in his direction, disabling him entirely but not appearing to kill him, allowing time for you to be thrown into a car over the driver's seat. You clumsily and painfully landed on the passenger's side, groaning as you repositioned yourself and witnessed Riddle turn the key in the ignition, stepping on the gas before the spell on the man wore off.

"Where- what- why...?" so many questions soared through your mind.

"Give me an actual question and I'll answer."

"Okay... uh... what are you?"

"A wizard."

"Who are you?"

"Mattheo Riddle."

"Who were they?"

"Death eaters."

"What were they?"

"Dark wizards."

You breathed deeply, gazing at the road ahead of you, "I don't— how— I—" As pathetic and unhelpful as it was, you started crying.

Riddle glanced at you sparingly, trying to remain focused on the road and get as far away as possible, "I'm really sorry to drag you into this, and I would've left you behind, but he would've killed you."

"Then- then why didn't you kill him like the other one..."

"I'm not prepared to take on the more powerful death eaters yet."

"You let the cashier die."

"One of you had to die for the other one to survive. The situation was too tricky. You're just the lucky one."

You wiped some of your tears.

"If I could've saved both of you, I would've," he paused for a moment, "What's your name?"

"Y/N... Y/N L/N... What do you mean wizards? Death eaters?"

"Well, Y/N, magic is a thing."

"I— I gathered... it's just so much to take in..."

"Do you want a briefing?" his tone seemed unsure, but cold at the same time. He clearly wasn't a particularly expressive person.

"Yeah..."

He sighed, "There is a whole world that muggles— not-magic people— don't know about. Wizards and witches are at the centre, but there are a bunch of other species too."

"What about death eaters?" you asked, trying to process this new flood of information.

"They are wizards and witches who follow an evil wizard whose name I cannot speak. They despise wizards born of muggles, and aim to eradicate them."

"Oh."

"Cancel your plans, by the way, you can't go back."

"What? But I have work, family, friends...! Shit, I'm gonna be fired..." you pulled your hands down your face.

He sighed, "Do you want to live?"

"Yes—"

"Then your best chance of survival is with me. That death eater has seen me with you, which means you're vulnerable alone, even if I obliviate you."

"But—"

"You will die without me."

Slowly accepting the terrifying fact presented to you, silence fell upon you for a sacred few moments. "What does obliviate mean?" you asked, calmer this time.

"Wiping your memory."

"You can do that?"

He nodded, eyes still trained on to the road, "We can do almost anything."

You sunk down in your seat, only then realising you hadn't even bothered with the seatbelt, which made you become aware of the car. Had Riddle not said he could do almost anything? "Then surely there are quicker ways to travel."

"Yes, but You-Know-Who has access to the Ministry of Magic— the wizarding government— right now, meaning he can detect almost all magic performed. I have to use muggle transport to remain untraced."

Taking a deep breath, you sorted this new information in your brain. "You-Know-Who is the evil wizard?"

Riddle hummed, "I cannot say his real name, because he can track anyone who says it."

"Why is he after you? Are you..." you racked your brain, "Born of muggles?"

"We call them muggle-born," he corrected, confused at your question. Had you not heard the reference to You-Know-Who being his father earlier? "And no."

"So, why?"

He took a deep sigh, appearing to nearly seethe, before he said, "It's complicated. The point is, I'm trying to destroy him by finding his Horcruxes."

The confused look on your face was prominent.

"Horcruxes are one of the darkest forms of magic. By dividing your soul into different objects or beings, you become immortal."

"I see. So you can't kill You-Know-Who until all of his Horcruxes are destroyed?"

"Maybe you catch on quicker than I thought."

"I'm trying my best," you murmured. The truth was, you were using these questions and answers as a distraction from your panic.

"So far, three of them have been destroyed," he spoke calmly, "There are four more. One of them is here in this car."

"Can't he track it?"

"No, his soul is too unstable."

"Okay," you said carefully, "So now I am forced to join you on this incredibly dangerous quest."

"I'm sorry, I really am," his voice showed sympathy for the first time, "I wish there was another way."

You shrugged, attempting to deflect, "Tell me more, then."

"Well, the three destroyed Horcruxes were not destroyed by me. One of them was a diary, destroyed by a boy named Harry Potter a few years ago, another was a ring. The old headmaster of our magic school destroyed it. The other one... was, well, Harry Potter."

Your eyes widened.

"The prophecy foretold that he was the chosen one who would destroy You-Know-Who. The prophecy was wrong— You-Know-Who killed him, inadvertently destroying one of his Horcruxes."

"He didn't know?"

"I don't know the full story, but I know that he was not aware he made Harry Potter a Horcrux."

"Poor kid."

He chuckled a little, not sinisterly, but ironically, "Yeah, but that's in the past. The Horcrux here in the car is a locket."

"Do you know where the others are? Do you know how to destroy them?"

"I know one of them is at our magic school, Hogwarts. It's a diadem. As for the others... I know one of them is a snake You-Know-Who keeps at his side, but where that is, I don't know."

"And the other one?"

"I have reason to believe it's in my mother's vault at Gringotts— the wizarding bank." You heard the way his breath hitched when he said mother, as if he regretted sharing that piece of information.

"Your mother is a death eater," you said slowly. It was not a question.

"Yes."

"And how do you destroy them?"

"There are many ways, but the safest and easiest are by using either the Sword of Gryffindor or a basilisk fang."

"Gryffindor? Basilisk?" you felt bad for asking so many questions.

"Gryffindor is one of the houses at Hogwarts. I am not a Gryffindor, so I cannot summon the sword. Basilisks are giant snakes, and their venom is deadly. The only antidote is phoenix tears."

"Where can you find one?"

"Conveniently, there is a basilisk skeleton in a hidden chamber beneath Hogwarts."

"So, that's the plan?"

He nodded.

"Okay, I'll stop asking questions... for now."

***

Unless you were asking a question about the wizarding world, you found Riddle to be a rather aloof person: you sat in silence for most of the journey to God knows where, stopping at a motel when it reached nightfall. You were famished and exhausted, deciding to go to bed and eat in the morning, beyond ready to collapse on your mattress and process everything you had learned in one day.

You both went to your separate rooms, with Riddle not even sparing you a goodnight when he entered his room. You shrugged it off, entering your own and tugging off all your clothes save for your underwear.

You tried to ignore the fact that he had thrown your pager out of the car, preventing anyone from being able to contact you.

It turned out that the magical fantasy world that little kids had always dreamed of was real, with centaurs and dragons and goblins, etcetera: though, it was a much darker place than fairy tales foretold. Riddle was an interesting character, which was a given provided him being a wizard and all. Though, it was strange that he was clearly deeply involved in the wizarding war with his mother being a death eater, especially as he was such a cold personality despite apparently being on the good side.

You hadn't dared to ask for details on his mother or his upbringing. At the end of the day, the two of you had just met, so it was not your place to pry on his personal affairs. Still, you were curious.

But in better news, you learned about beautiful hidden magic villages, and wand shops, and the different witchcraft and wizardry schools across the world. You were suddenly aware of a whole new world that had been hidden from you; a world that you would not believe existed had you not witnessed magic first-hand. The most devastating part to learn was that sometimes, a witch or wizard was born from a couple without magic, like your parents. You had not been one of the lucky ones, yet, maybe you were, given the evident genocide against muggle-borns.

Eventually, you drifted off, but your dreams were far from an escape. They consisted of replays of the agony you felt in the store, and night terrors of death eaters chasing and killing you. When you woke up in a hot sweat at dawn, you gasped at the near escape from death that your dream portrayed.

A few taps sounded on the door.

"Y/N, wake up, there's a supermarket round the corner. We need supplies."

"Mattheo," you said shakily.

"What?"

Hurriedly, you tugged on your shirt and opened the door. "I had nightmares."

"Well, that's expected," he did not display much sympathy, "Get dressed. We can't stay in one place too long."

Disregarding his lack of care, you tremored as you grabbed your trousers and tugged them on, slipping into your shoes so that you could follow Mattheo out and to the supermarket.

He was the one who pushed the trolley around and told you to grab the different items, unless they were ones you couldn't reach in which case you would give him a hopeless look. Obviously, he had no choice but to grab the items, but he would still scowl and roll his eyes when he did.

Thankfully, the supermarket had a small clothes section, with cheap clothes. You just got a few simple jumpers, shirts and jeans, as well as a couple packs of plain cotton underwear and socks. Mattheo bought some more boxers and socks, but was clearly well prepared in every other regard. As for food, you bought cereal to eat dry, microwaveable meals, and packs of crisps. You purchased a few water bottles as well, but most petrol stations would sell it so it was not a primary concern.

When you returned to the motel, you microwaved a curry and laid the tiny table in your room.

"We need to get going soon," Mattheo remarked, "They may already know where I am."

"Fine, now sit. I'm starved."

The meal was eaten in silence, after which you both showered separately and got dressed in clean clothes. You were back in the car by nine, the dingy motel to be left in the distance.

"So, where are we headed?"

"London."

"Why?"

"That's where Diagon Alley is. It's where we'll find Gringotts."

"I see. How do you plan to break in?"

"Well, I have fortunately enlisted the help of a goblin who used to work at Gringotts. That's no easy feat, mind you, goblins like to keep to themselves."

"How will they help?"

"It's actually easier now you're here. You will be disguised as my mother. Me and the goblin will be hidden under an invisibility cloak."

"What?" you were, needless to say, alarmed, "You get to hide under an invisibility cloak while I, a muggle, do all the talking?"

"Relax, I will tell you what to say," he said, before adding, "It's the only invisibility cloak in existence, by the way. I obtained it from Potter after he died."

"I don't care," you grumbled.

***

"What is this place?"

"This is the way to Diagon Alley."

You had walked down this street a countless number of times, and never before had you seen this pub tucked between buildings, with an aged sign that read "The Leaky Cauldron".

"Muggles don't notice anything they don't suspect."

"What food does it have?"

"Normal pub food."

You kept behind Mattheo as you walked into the bustling place; brushing against his cloak that covered his face, matching the one that you wore. He led you to a table at the back of the establishment, right past people that caught your attention. Witches stirring their tea without touching their spoon, craft beers being poured without the bartender's presence. Despite the visual oddity, the atmosphere was relatively... normal. For a clearly shady pub, that was.

"Can you do that?" you asked Mattheo.

"Of course," he scoffed.

You sat down at opposite sides of the table, the ever present stickiness of pubs being evident on the wooden surface. A couple of parchment menus were laid on the table by the wall, worn down and faded with age but still legible. You took one and began scanning over it, relieved to see it was all indeed human foods. "I could go for scampi," you remarked.

"What do you want to drink?"

"Uh, just a coke please."

"Okay, keep guard of the table."

Mattheo went up to the bar to order, leaving you to your own devices back at the table. You looked around more at the people in the place, and found a few pairs of eyes on you. They weren't angry, just curious, and you could guess why.

"Do wizards always stare this much?" you asked when he returned with the drinks.

"If you're hiding under a cloak, yeah."

You could not explain your reasoning, but you had a strange feeling that Mattheo was more important in the wizarding world than he let on. Regardless, you asked no questions.

The food hardly took any time, which made sense considering magic was at full access. The server greeted you both with a grimace, "Eat up and be on your way."

"Why was he so grumpy?" you whispered.

"People are especially mistrusting now You-Know-Who is in power," he replied as he picked up his fork.

You hummed in understanding.

When you began eating the scampi, you almost moaned because of how good the taste was, "What the fuck? This is so good."

"Yeah, probably not hygienic, though."

That was no surprise: The Leaky Cauldron was eerily and comfortingly similar to the muggle pubs that you had grown up in.

Mattheo was quickly eating his fish and chips, and it looked delicious, but you knew that you needed to focus on your own food so that your time there was short. "Okay, so, how much longer 'til we meet Griphook?"

"In about twenty minutes."

"Okay."

"So hurry up eating, goblins don't like to wait."

The meal had been paid beforehand, but you didn't have time to thank him since the staff were beginning to snarl at you. You moved quickly to stand up and leave through the back exit of the place, only to be faced with a brick wall.

Before you could interrogate Mattheo, he pulled out his wand and tapped it on various bricks, causing the wall to separate.

"Holy shit."

***

Ten minutes later, he led you into a mysterious back alley along the magical street, to see a short figure already stood there: you had already been nervous, but your fear was rising by the second.

"Griphook," Mattheo stated simply.

"Riddle," the short figure replied. Even in the darkness, you could make out his long nose and ears.

"Thank you for your help."

"I am not doing this for you. The death eaters are torturing my kind."

Mattheo nodded grimly, "Then let's get this over with." He handed you the polyjuice potion that he had explained earlier, and you hesitantly uncapped it and lifted the tiny bottle to your lips, downing the whole thing.

Instantly, your body began to shift and change.

"It is unnerving seeing you as my mother."

You scowled at him.

"Salazar, don't do that," he hissed.

"Let's begin," Griphook grumbled, prompting Mattheo to pull out the invisibility cloak, throwing it over them.

***

Some would say that it was a miracle that you did not shit yourself while talking to the goblin banker, but you would say that it was a result of pure determination. Once the tricky part of persuasion had been scraped through by the skin of your teeth, you were taken to a cart on a rollercoaster. At least, that was the only way you could describe the experience down into the depths of Gringotts. After multiple strokes of whiplash, you came to a screeching halt outside a vault.

When in the vault, Griphook seized the Sword of Gryffindor which had been kept safe there, and smiled a toothy, traitorous grin at you both.

Your eyes widened as the polyjuice effects faded, and alarms rang throughout the bank.

"Fuck," Mattheo cursed, quickly scanning the room to find an object which could be a Horcrux. His eyes landed on the golden cup sat on a shelf, and he lunged for it, cursing again as he did so. "They've enchanted it to be burning hot."

He quickly used his cloak to hold it, as the room began to flood with coins: anything the two of you touched would begin to multiply, surely going to suffocate you if became trapped there.

"Run!" he shouted, and you both waded through the coins as quickly as you could, barely escaping the vault. In the closing distance, the angry shouts of goblins could be heard, making it seem as if there was no escape. "Jump!" Mattheo yelled, and in the midst of adrenaline you did so without thinking, landing on the back of a chained dragon.

"Oh my God," you muttered to yourself, fear lacing your tone. Mattheo muttered some charms that broke the chains, and the dragon pushed upwards towards the ceiling, roaring in the process.

Maybe the beast did not notice the two of you, or maybe it was grateful that you aided its escape, but it made no effort to throw you from its back as it crashed through the roof and made a hurried departure long into the distance.

Your rear was sore from the uncomfortable seating, and even as London disappeared behind you, no words were exchanged. That was, until, Mattheo shouted, "Lake! Get ready to drop!"

It was instinctive at this point to do as he said without second guessing, so you let yourself fall into the cold murky water on his word.

***

Crawling out of the lake, drenched and exhausted, would normally be a humiliating experience: given your situation, however, embarrassment did not even cross your mind. All you could do was gasp for breath as you collapsed on the grass, grateful to even be alive another day. Just two days prior, you were complaining about trivial things like a cynical boss and paying rent— now you had nothing to complain about. You were living and breathing, and God knows you wanted to remain that way.

"Shit, what about the locket in your car?" you remembered suddenly.

"I pocketed it before we left," Mattheo said through strained breaths, "Thought things might go south."

"And you didn't tell me?" you wanted to be angry, but there was no energy for such an emotion.

"Didn't want to scare you even more."

Accepting that answer, mainly because there was nothing else to do, you let your eyes flutter shut. "What now?"

"Now," he sighed, "We go to Hogwarts."

You groaned, "Will this ever be over?"

"I hope to Merlin it will be."

***

Interacting with any other people was a massive risk at that point, so both you and Mattheo were forced to camp without even so much as a tent. Not to mention, he was reluctant to use magic to make your night more comfortable, as he did not want there to be any possibility of you being located. Thus, you felt like a girl scout again as you gathered long sticks and moss, in an attempt to make some type of shelter— at the very least, it was Summer, and unlikely to rain. The shelter was more for some level of insulation than anything else.

Mattheo watched in wonder as you built a fire the muggle way, evidently in awe of your ability to do things without magic.

"It's impressive," he said as you sat down next to him, watching the golden flames, "It wasn't until recently did I appreciate how many skills muggles actually have."

"Not all muggles can make a fire without matches or a lighter," you added, "Luckily for you, you kidnapped an ex-girl scout."

"I didn't kidnap you."

"You kidnapped me with good cause," you amended, and he did not argue with that statement.

Silence lingered for a few seconds, before Mattheo spoke again, "I wish you found out about magic under better circumstances. I'm sorry, truly."

"It's okay," you replied. It was a blatant lie: you had been dragged kicking and screaming into a situation where you could very well die. But, really, this was the most adventure you had ever had in your life.

"I'll obliviate you once this is all over," he said solemnly.

"No, you won't."

He looked at you in confusion, "It's the right thing to do."

"If I survive this, I certainly don't want to forget it."

"Muggles aren't supposed to know about magic."

"Surely some do."

He sighed, "Some, yes. Muggle families of magic kids, muggle spouses of wizards and witches, the Prime Minister."

"Is that a hard-fast rule?"

"I'm not sure."

You raised an eyebrow.

"The government has fallen apart since You-Know-Who came into power," he explained.

You watched the fire flicker and spark before you, "I have to ask."

"Ask what?"

"Why you? Why are you the one going up against him? Why do you know about his Horcruxes? You said Harry Potter was meant to be the chosen one, and he's dead."

Mattheo's mouth settled into a firm line, "You wouldn't look at me the same way if I told you."

"Why? Were you a death eater?"

He eyed you curiously, "Don't pretend it's such a mystery. Think about the place where you first met me."

"What do you mean?"

"The death eaters said what I was."

"Oh. That memory is a blur for me," you replied, "Trauma response, I guess."

He took a deep breath, and said, "You-Know-Who is my father."

"Some Dark Lord's son you are."

The memory of that sentence suddenly rang true in your mind, making you wonder how you had ever forgotten.

"Oh."

He nodded gravely, "With the chosen one and Dumbledore dead, I realised I was the only one who knew enough to stop him."

"Well, I don't look at you any differently."

With a dry chuckle, he muttered, "Thanks."

Cautiously, you reached your hand out and rested it on his. "I think you're as good as they come."

His fingers tightened around yours, "You're one of the only ones to ever think that."

You gave him the sincerest look you could muster, before deciding to change the topic, "We should get some sleep."

He nodded, "Yeah, we should."

***

After tossing and turning for hours, you finally let out a loud sigh, pulling your hands down your face: it wasn't the cold of night that was hindering you, but the fear for the next day.

"Can't sleep?" you heard Mattheo ask. He had been resting with his back facing you the entire time, causing you to assume that he had been slumbering.

"No," you murmured.

"Me neither," he turned to face you.

"I just can't stop thinking— I may die tomorrow."

"I know." His eyes shone at you in the dark.

"I've hardly done anything with my life."

"I mean, you're only... how old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"You're only nineteen. You've hardly had a chance yet."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

You had not realised that you were older than him.

"I'll do everything I can to prevent your death," he spoke quietly, and that was when you felt the air shift, as if something that had been suspended between the two of you released.

"Don't sacrifice yourself for me."

"It's the least I can do," he said slowly, followed by a painstaking moment of silence.

Then his lips were on yours.

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched beneath you as he climbed on top of you, making his mouth at home on yours. With almost no light, you were guided by touch and instinct as you grasped your hands into his hair, feeling the softness of his curls as you tugged ever so slightly. He groaned in response, and began kissing his way down your jaw until he reached your neck, causing you to let out a gasp into the quietness of the night.

He pulled away briefly, making you whine, only to hear him say, "I think we deserve to feel good tonight, hm?"

Instinct and desire took hold of your body as you nodded, hurrying to pull him closer to you again and feel all the warmth that he had to offer. Every feeling was magnified, as if your senses were attuned to Mattheo— had death eaters attacked at that moment, you doubted that you would have noticed. Especially not when his fingers smoothly unbuttoned your jeans, pulling on the zip in a way that demonstrated his expertise.

"Mattheo, please," you whispered, but you were not sure what you were asking for.

He, however, seemed to know exactly what you wanted, and wasted no further time ridding your legs of their denim prison. A hand slipped into your panties, exposing your eagerness to Mattheo as he felt the pool of wetness that had accumulated. Another groan escaped his throat at the sensation, while you painstakingly waited for him to do something more. Finally, he did, beginning to circle your clit in the most delicious way: one that had you falling apart at his touch.

"Fuck," he murmured, watching your figure writhe through the darkness, "I wish I could see you clearly right now."

A moan in reply was all you could give him, allowing your barriers to collapse as your pleasure peaked and you jerked your hips off the ground. "Oh my God," you sighed, collapsing against the ground as you came down from your high.

"Please don't tell me that's all you have in you."

He could not see, but you smiled, "Not even close."

And with that, you heard him unzip his trousers, rushing to push your panties aside and line himself up at your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice holding a distinct need.

"Fuck me."

Mattheo did not need telling twice, pushing himself into your entrance upon your command, falling apart as he did so. "Merlin," he gasped, relishing in every moment that your walls were around him.

After his initial shock, he began thrusting, leaning down to kiss you as he did— desperately, sloppily. If anybody had witnessed the two of you, they might have thought you were animals hellbent on mating. Maybe you were.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" he cut himself off with moans, and you were damn near harmonising with him with your own sounds.

Mattheo tried to pull out, he really did, but it all happened so quickly.

***

Was this was what vertigo felt like?

You collapsed to the ground, feeling nauseous and dizzy, and unable to focus your eyes on your surroundings. The ground beneath you was grassy, you knew that much, and there seemed to be the blurry outlines of trees in the distance. "What the fuck?" you mumbled, just before your stomach lurched and you were throwing up everywhere.

"I warned you," Mattheo said behind you, but his tone did not lack sympathy.

"That doesn't make it easier," you replied groggily, wiping your mouth and attempting to stand up. Slowly, your vision was returning to normal, and your head was spinning less. "Is this Hogsmeade?" you frowned, looking at the expanse of trees. You had been expecting a cute magic village.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, grabbing your shoulders and turning you around, "No, this is Hogsmeade."

Still the place was a disappointment. Your partner had described it as a warm and cosy place, bustling with students and townsfolk— it looked like a ghost town, if you were honest.

"It looked better before," he said in a poor attempt at an apology.

You hummed, annoyed. "Well, let's get on with this then."

"Wait. We need to figure out a way into Hogwarts."

"You haven't thought of that already?" you nearly shouted.

Mattheo scowled at you, gesturing for you to pull your cloak over you. You did so begrudgingly, and followed the man into the village.

You soon entered a pub, which lacked patrons, and apparently staff as well. Mattheo seemed disappointed by this— perhaps he needed a beer to help him think straight. Only, a voice distracted you entirely.

"Riddle," an elderly man that you had not seen sat in the corner, spoke.

In the corner of your eye, you observed the aforementioned man's hand move to where his wand was.

"At ease, boy," the old man held his hands up, "I've been expecting you. I can help you."

"Help me how?" Mattheo asked harshly.

"Get to where you need to go," his eyes appeared to twinkle as he said that.

"I'm listening."

"Follow me," the man gestured, and after a moment of hesitation, the two of you trailed behind him.

You were faced with a portrait of a woman.

"Ariana, my dear. They're here."

"At last," she replied, making you jump out of your skin.

"Here you will find a passage," the old man explained, and you watched as the talking portrait swung open, revealing a dark tunnel.

"How did you know? Who are you?" Mattheo quickly asked.

The old man smiled, "Aberforth Dumbledore."

Questions brewed within you as you and Mattheo entered the darkened passageway, thanking the old man.

"Dumbledore? I thought your headmaster was dead."

"He is."

"But—"

"He's a relative of Dumbledore's."

Oh, that made sense.

Mattheo muttered a Latin word and his wand lit up, shining a glow on to the cold stone walls surrounding you— if you weren't already accepting potential death, you would have been spooked by the place. Instead, you remained quietly beside Mattheo as he walked quickly but carefully down the long corridor. It curved, twisted, and turned every few steps, beginning to feel like an optionless maze. There was no choice but to persist, and after what felt like torturous eternity, you reached a dead end.

"This will be the exit," he murmured, feeling the wall before you.

He pushed against the wall, only to reveal it was not a wall, but another portrait entrance. You climbed out as Mattheo dimmed his wand light, looking around the large room full of all kinds of antiques.

"Someone hoard here?" you lightly joked.

Mattheo chuckled.

"One of the Horcruxes should be in here."

"We have to search the entire room?"

He nodded solemnly.

With a deep sigh, you said, "Better get started, then."

"It's a diadem— a tiara," he stated as he moved to one end of the room to begin the hunt.

Two hours passed, and still nothing.

"Fuck," you muttered, "This is so stupid."

Mattheo snorted, "Like finding a needle in a haystack."

You found yourself back in front of a cabinet you had opened and searched earlier, but were now starting to doubt your thoroughness of. Having looked everywhere on your designated half of the room once, you were combing over again, just to be sure. Grasping the handles, you pulled, but they wouldn't budge. Pulling harder, you nearly went flying back as the doors popped open.

The inside before you was completely different to the one you had seen before— right? You weren't going crazy, not yet.

And that was when you spotted it: the sparkling jewels and shiny metal catching the dim lighting in an incandescent way. Cautiously, you reached your hands forward and picked it up, finding it was cold to the touch, just as you had expected. You examined it closely, before yelling to Mattheo.

"Is this it?"

You held it up for him to see, and watched from a distance as his eyes widened with relief and success.

"Shit, I thought we'd never find it," he muttered, running over to you and taking the diadem from your hands.

Mattheo didn't waste anytime shoving the tiara into his satchel, and pulling out the invisibility cloak. "Quick," he said, "You-Know-Who will find us any minute now."

He grabbed your hand, and for a brief second, memories of the previous night cascaded over you in a blissful trance— it was short-lived, however, as you had places to be. Leading you through the magical castle, you tried your best not to get caught up in awe at objects floating and moving. And ghosts. Still, all the students wandering the halls looked miserable: they weren't laughing or even talking to each other, not like you did in school with your friends.

To your surprise, Mattheo guided you into a bathroom. It was large, with magnificent sinks and numerous cubicles, but it looked unkempt and neglected.

"The chamber is accessed through here."

You bobbed your head, invisible pain presenting itself as Mattheo pulled the cloak off the two of you and stepped further away. He took a deep breath, and began... hissing? Deciding not to question it, you allowed him to continue uninterrupted.

The sinks began separating, and you wished you could say that you were shocked by such an event, but, frankly, this was the least shocking thing you had witnessed in the last few days. "It's down here?" you asked.

"Yeah, it's—"

He was cut off by the sounds of explosions, and the flagstone floor shook beneath your feet. Then, you heard screams.

"Shit," Mattheo cursed, "He knows I'm here. He's starting a battle."

"Fuck."

"I have to go to him. Otherwise he'll hurt more and more people."

"But— the Horcruxes—"

"You can do it," he stated calmly, handing you his satchel, "You don't need magic for this."

"But... I..."

"Find the skeleton. Take one of the teeth," he said, grasping your shoulders, "Destroy the Horcruxes."

You didn't notice the tear rolling down your cheek until his thumb brushed it away.

"Hey, it's okay, you're strong," he murmured, "You've dealt with everything that's happened the last couple days better than most people would. You'll be okay."

"It's not that," you said shakily, "You can't die."

Matthew's mouth settled in a grim line, "I'll try."

You nodded, and he pulled away, walking towards the door.

"Mattheo," you called out, and he paused, turning around.

Running towards him, you slammed your lips on to his, and he kissed you back passionately. All too quickly, you parted, and your foreheads rested against each other.

You almost felt inclined to say 'I love you', but you held back, and let him leave.

Then, after regaining your composure, you set your face into stone, clasping the satchel strap and staring towards the chamber entrance with sheer determination. Never would you have thought that you would have the opportunity to be a hero, to save people, to contribute towards the greater good. And, by God, you were not going to fuck this up because of some feelings.

You grabbed a lantern that hung from the wall, and stormed forward into the dark abyss.

***

As Mattheo had suspected, the build up of a year of oppression and depression was culminating in a battle for humanity. He could only assume that his arrival to the castle had triggered the outbreak, and it wasn't long before the corridors he ran down were full of duels: students, teachers, parents all defending what was good with their lives as more and more death eaters apparated in. Moving under the invisibility cloak, he was able to avoid any duels that would waste his time: he intended to fight his father. He knew that he was there— he could feel it. Whether everyone could feel it, or it was just him and his painstaking father-son bond, he didn't know. But it didn't matter.

When he approached the courtyard, he saw the dark cloak of his maker in the distance, and his face settled into a grim line. Where was Nagini? She needed to be killed for him to stand any chance at defeating his father.

"I know you're there, Riddle," a stern voice said from his side.

Mattheo turned in shock to see his cousin, and his former best friend. The Dark Mark was sat on his lower arm in full view, proof of Draco's commitment to the death eater cause. Pulling off the invisibility cloak, Mattheo held his wand ready.

"I could smell you anywhere," the blond spat, disgust on his features.

In a way, Mattheo pitied him. Draco had undergone the same threats and brainwashing that had been attempted on him. Only, Draco had more to lose than Mattheo. That was why he had given in— he loved his parents and could not bear to see them die.

Mattheo did not have the same concerns.

"Don't make me do this, Draco," he said calmly.

"What? You think I secretly am against the Dark Lord?" Draco tightened his grip around his wand, "Pathetic. I don't need your pity, Cousin."

"I know you are against this," Mattheo replied, "You can smell me, but I can smell the fear on you."

"Avada keda—"

"Expelliarmus!"

***

Eerie drips of murky water followed your every step deeper into the underground, as well as the nervous scurry of rats. Neither caused you to hesitate as you pushed forward, reaching a second door that, upon holding the lantern closer, revealed embellished metal snakes curving and curling. There was no handle to grasp on to, and you lacked any magical abilities, so stood in thought for a moment.

Maybe, if you repeated the hissing that Mattheo did earlier? It was worth a shot, so you shut your eyes to recall his exact pattern of sounds— and rather felt like an idiot as you imitated them. To your relief, the metal snakes shifted, and the ancient door slowly swung open to reveal a lit expanse that somewhat resembled a sewer.

You entered cautiously, scanning the pools of still water either side of the stone bridge, and the large structure that stood at the end. Then, your gaze locked on to a large skeleton that would send muggle archaeologists on a field day. With a careful approach, you kneeled down beside the mouth, and, not wanting to touch the venomous fangs, used a cloth from Mattheo's satchel to prise one out. It wasn't easy: they were fused into the skull. Eventually, the tooth released, and you fell backwards from the force it required.

Then, you laid out the three Horcruxes before you— the locket, the diadem, and the cup. You clutched the fang through the cloth with both hands, holding it above your head, before bringing it down with as much strength as you could on to the cup. A dent was made. You tried again, and the dent was deeper. Finally, on your third strike, the cup cracked down the middle, and you observed shakily as black smoke emitted from the object and dissipated into thin air.

Now for the diadem. You repeated the process, and the tiara broke more easily, due to its delicate nature. Black smoke once again appeared and disappeared.

Time for the final one.

After the first strike, the locket opened itself, and you were flung backwards, hitting the flagstones hard. "What the fuck?" you murmured, sitting up to see a tornado of grey fog pouring out of the locket.

It displayed a scene you never wished to see, nor hear about: Mattheo, lying dead on the floor, covered in gashes and wounds. While it was a torment to witness, you told yourself that the Horcrux was lying to upset you— such dark magic must feed off negative emotions. With that thought at the forefront of your mind, you reached around for the cloth and fang, and rose to your feet. You ran towards the locket and brought the basilisk tooth down harder than you had any of the previous times. The tornado dispersed, revealing the shattered pieces of metal before you.

You took a deep breath— you had not let Mattheo down.

But was he alive to know?

***

"You think disarming me is enough?" Draco scowled, having fallen back on the floor, "How do you intend to win this if you can't even kill?"

"How did you?" Mattheo asked, stepping on Draco's wand, snapping it in half, "You didn't mean that curse."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you, Draco, better than anyone else," he sighed, "We grew up together. You're more like a brother than a cousin."

Draco scoffed.

"And I don't want to kill you, but if you get in my way again, I won't fucking hesitate," Mattheo warned, before muttering, "Petrificus totalus."

He then walked away, not wanting to look again at his paralysed cousin.

***

As you emerged into the neglected bathroom, you heard the sounds of war that had been concealed from you in the chamber. You stilled, unsure of how to proceed. In a magical battle, you were defenceless as a muggle, and Mattheo had taken the invisibility cloak. While you wanted to help more, what could you do? You would be a hinderance as opposed to an asset.

That was when you heard crying from one of the stalls.

"Hello?" you cautiously spoke.

A sound of shock came in response, and then a blue-white apparition of sorts shot out into view: a ghost.

"What do you want?" she said through sobs.

"I... I don't know," you replied honestly, "Are you upset because of the fight?"

The girl humphed, and said sharply, "No. I'm a ghost. I can't die again."

"Right," you mumbled, "Then why are you crying?"

She scoffed, "Don't act like you don't know. Everyone knows who I am."

"I don't," you shifted uncomfortably on your feet, "I'm a muggle."

Suddenly, she was really close to you, "Then what are you doing here?"

"It's a long story."

She shrugged, "I'm muggle-born. It's why I'm dead."

You tilted your head curiously, "You-Know-Who killed you?"

"The basilisk!" she started sobbing again.

"Well, that's dead now," you said, unsure how to comfort her, "And I'm pretty sure it was controlled by You-Know-Who..."

She wailed again, "Poor Moaning Myrtle, You-Know-Who's first kill!"

"I'm sorry," you murmured, "Can you... can you help us defeat him?"

"What can I do? I'm a ghost!"

"What can I do?" you sighed, "I'm magicless."

"You're better staying here," she stated.

You shook your head, "I can't."

"Why?"

"I have to find Mattheo."

"You-Know-Who's son?"

You nodded.

"He was a nasty devil when he was here. No better than his father, I say."

"He's gone to fight him right now," you defended.

Myrtle shrugged.

"Please, can you help me get out there safely?"

"No."

"Please," you begged, "Don't you want revenge?"

Myrtle seemed to ponder what you said for a few moments, before saying, "Fine."

"Thank you," you breathed.

The ghost moved over to the door and stuck her head through it, "No one's outside here. Come on."

You hurried to follow her out, staying close to the wall as she peeked around every corner first before giving you the all clear. Despite her scouting, the sound of duelling not so far away had your heart pounding, but you weren't about to turn back. After a while, Myrtle stopped in front of a statue.

"What now?" you asked.

"The passage behind here leads straight to the courtyard."

"Is that where You-Know-Who is?" you asked.

She shrugged, "Maybe."

You realised that you weren't going to get anymore help from her, and thanked the peculiar spirit before entering the secret passage. This time, you had no light, and were forced to feel along the wall to find your way.

***

"Father." Mattheo stated coldly.

The pale-skinned evil turned to face his son. Looking upon Mattheo was like looking in the mirror of his past self, except for one thing: the eyes. His son did not share his cold and heartless gaze.

"You dare show your face here," Voldemort seethed, the Elder Wand gracefully held in his hand.

Mattheo shrugged, his wand poised in his hand.

"You can't kill me," his father chuckled.

"I'm surprised you didn't feel it."

"Feel what?" Voldemort snapped.

"Your Horcruxes," he smirked, "Being destroyed."

Their duel began.

***

Exiting the passageway, you were blinded by the light from outside, unable to register your surroundings for a few seconds. Finally, your eyes adjusted, and you watched as a filthy boy swung a shiny sword around, slicing the head off a snake. People were gathered all around, some fighting, some watching in shock.

Nagini.

The serpent was the final Horcrux: You-Know-Who could be killed now. Mattheo needed to know— where was he?

You climbed out the passage fully, going unnoticed by everyone around you. Anxiously, you kept to the edge of the courtyard, scanning each individual face but to no avail. As you looked upon everyone, you noticed a redheaded man unaware that the wall above him was about to come falling down.

"Shit," you muttered, sprinting over as quickly as your tired legs could muster and pummelling into him so hard you both went flying. The fall hurt—��a lot— but it was better than dying.

Clambering off the man, you saw his bewildered expression.

"Sorry," you mumbled, "Wall was gonna crush you."

"Thank you," he exasperated, "Who are you?"

"Y/N," you answered, turning to continue searching for Mattheo.

"I'm Fred," he said, slowly standing up, "I've never seen you before."

"Have you seen Mattheo?"

"Riddle?" Fred asked, "I think I saw him head across the bridge."

You nodded, preparing to run.

"He's a death eater, be careful."

Pausing, you said firmly, "No, he isn't."

And then you bolted.

***

As you approached the duel between Mattheo and his father, you could immediately tell he was holding back, simply deflecting spells instead of throwing any. You knew that bringing attention to yourself could cause You-Know-Who to kill you, but this was a risk you had to take. A week ago, you would never have imagined you were in a situation where you had to sacrifice yourself for humanity, but now it was the only option that your morals presented to you.

"Mattheo! The snake is dead!" you yelled, and then ducked out of view as a spell was shot in your direction.

You heard Latin words yelled, and peeked out from your hiding spot to see two powerful beams of light connecting between the father and son. The former's was an angry, sparking red— the latter's was a hopeful, shimmery blue. They were pushing and pulling against each other, the strain of such magic clearly taking a toll on both parties. At first, the scarlet beam was taking over, and your heart dropped to your stomach— then, you watched Mattheo grit his teeth, and the blue resisted the red, climbing forward slowly.

It was the longest and quickest minute of your life, watching this fateful moment that would define the future of the wizarding world, and likely, by extension, the muggle one. The blue pushed harder and harder, until the red was swallowed whole, coursing through You-Know-Who's wand, and into his body.

For a split second, he screamed in agony.

But then he was gone: disappeared, destroyed, defeated.

And Mattheo collapsed to the ground.

Without hesitation, you ran over to him, kneeling down and pulling his head on to your lap as you caressed his cheek gently. Hot, salty tears streamed down your face as you pleaded for him to wake up, for him not to be dead.

"We won," you sobbed, "Please. You can't die now."

His eyes fluttered open, triggering another sob from your throat— only this time it was relieved and joyous.

"Can't get rid of me that easy, doll," he smiled tiredly.

You smiled through your tears, "You're a hero."

"So are you," he spoke tiredly, his eyelids closing again, "I need a nap."

A laugh escaped you before you could process it. "Yeah, me too."

***

The euphoria of victory was short-lived after being faced with the devastation that the Battle of Hogwarts brought forth. No one smiled as wounds were patched up, as walls were rebuilt, and as bodies were buried: you were one of the lucky ones. You had not lost anyone important to you, and you were marked as a hero for your efforts in the battle.

There was an award ceremony for the greatest war heroes, of whom were voted on once reconstruction was complete— which was not long, considering that magic was at hand. Mattheo received many nominations, as everyone knew what he had done. You, however, received only two nominations initially, but after Mattheo explained what you had contributed, more and more began pouring in.

"The next noble warrior to receive this coveted award, is an interesting one," the Minister of Magic spoke on stage, "Not only did she risk her life to defeat Voldemort, she did it entirely selflessly."

Mattheo squeezed your hand softly, and you smiled at him.

"As a muggle, she had no reason to fight in this war, but, still, she did so. Welcome to the stage, Y/N L/N."

Applause echoed around you as you stood up and approached the stage steps, climbing up and shaking the Minister's hand after he placed the medal over your head. You turned towards the audience and bowed, grateful for their acceptance of you.

"And, in light of your contributions, it seems only fair to give you unrestrained access to the wizarding world, in a way where you will not need a wizard or witch accompanying you."

You were handed a ring, customised with an opal jewel and set in white gold.

"This will grant you access to places such as Diagon Alley, and allow you to open a vault at Gringotts."

All you could do was stare at it in awe. "Thank you," you said softly.

You went and sat down behind the podium, next to the boy who killed the snake: Neville Longbottom. He gave you a small smile just as Mattheo's turn came.

And as you watched the handsome man approach the stage, you thought about how much he meant to you, and how you didn't think you could live without him. But, a question that had no place in that moment lingered... what were the two of you?

The last two weeks since the battle, you had been inseparable, like you could not breathe when he wasn't near. While you knew that your dependence on each other was a means of coping with the PTSD through your ironclad trauma bond, you knew that you felt more towards him than a connection based on shared experience. You loved the man so much it hurt— it was something you had realised when you had worried he was dying after defeating Voldemort.

He came crashing and burning into your life, turning your entire world upside down, and looking back on it now— well, you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the Minister placed the medal over Mattheo's head, he looked at you, the smallest of smiles present on his face. A speech was demanded of him by the audience, and that was when he held a hand out towards you, making you move without thinking.

You joined him at the podium.

"I couldn't have done any of this without her," he spoke, "I unintentionally dragged her into all of this, and she still fought for what's right. It's rare to meet someone so selfless and brave, and so for that reason I wouldn't be able to accept this award if she wasn't here with me."

Blushing. You were blushing.

"May we remember this war so that we do not repeat our mistakes. Thank you to every single one of you who risked your lives to defeat my father, and especially thank you to every single person who gave their lives. Lest we never forget."

As the crowd cheered, Mattheo turned to you, and said so softly no one could hear...

"I love you."

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/05/2025 —> 15/06/2025 published;15/06/2025 edited; —/—/——

61 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 2 months ago

Text

ate down so hard

Love Lies

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw! reader

Based on this request 🫶🏽

Summary: You’re just as confused as everyone else when your mortal enemy wakes up fully convinced that you’re the love of his life. (Spoiler alert: literally no one else was surprised)

word count: 5.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was cold and windy and wet as you stepped off the quidditch pitch, rain soaking you to your core. Thank Rowena you didn’t have to play an actual match in this weather. No, that honor went to the Slytherins and Gryffindors and you did not envy them at all, regular practice was enough for you.

As you make your way back to the locker rooms you see students and staff already beginning to fill the open stands and shake your head with pity. No amount of drying or warming charms were going to make it a comfortable match to sit through.

Just as you're about to turn into the locker rooms you feel yourself jerk back as a green robed shoulder slams past you, nearly knocking you off your feet.

“Watch it dolcezza,” a familiar voice slurs over the rain, condescension dripping from his words.

Despite your better judgement, you turn to find yourself facing none other than Theodore fucking Nott, broom in hand, and signature cocky smirk pasted across his face. God you hated that boy.

“Call me sweet again you pompous git,” you snap, glaring up at the Slytherin.

“Why waste my breath on you?” He retorts, matching your steely gaze, his lip curling up in a sneer.

You had never gotten along with Theodore. It was no secret among your classmates that the two of you hated each other. Despite being in many of the same NEWT level courses, sharing a love for quidditch, and both of you basically residing in the Hogwarts library, you simply could not tolerate one another’s presence.

It was strange perhaps, you’d done the analyzation yourself. By all accounts you two should probably be friends. But no amount of similarities or shared interests could make up for the fact that Theodore Nott was an insufferable, arrogant arse who only cared about maintaining his perfectly curated reputation.

"You're right Theodore, save a tree a bit of work why don't you. Rowena knows that tree is doing more for the world than you are," you reply coldly.

Theo opens his mouth to respond, but for maybe the first time ever, you see the boy falter, if only for a split second, before he's back to his usual stoic self. He scoffs.

"Just forget it, you're not worth it," he mutters under his breath, rolling those pretty blue eyes as he turns to go.

You shake your head at the boy, scoffing yourself.

"Yeah, do your best to forget me Nott, because I won't hesitate to forget you."

"Don't be mad."

"Just hear us out."

Oh dear god. As soon as you hear the combined voices of Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire, you know that you're about to be in for a ride. You look cautiously up at the pair from your seat in the library, on edge because wherever these two were, Theodore was sure to be nearby.

"He's not here if that's what you're worried about," Lorenzo offers with a nervous smile.

It's the kind of smile you would offer a skittish cat that you've cornered in hopes it doesn't bolt, and you had an unfortunate feeling that you were the cat in this scenario. Still you feel your shoulders relax a bit as the two carefully sit down at the table across from you.

"So uh. We heard about your, ah, little tiff, with Theo today," Lorenzo starts out awkwardly, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the castle at this moment.

"Bloody tosser never shuts up about you," Mattheo mutters so quietly you almost miss it.

You raise in eyebrow at the two boys in front of you, waiting for them to get to the point as Lorenzo gives Mattheo a sharp jab to the ribcage.

"Anyway," Lorenzo continues a bit too loudly, "There was a bit of an incident at the quidditch match today."

"Yeah, Slytherin lost. Again. I heard," you cut in, trying to wrap this up.

"Okay, ouch," Mattheo mutters once more, earning a glare from both you and Lorenzo.

"Did you also happen to hear that Theo was knocked of his broom?" Lorenzo asks.

Oh shit. As much as you couldn't stand Theodore, it's not as if you wanted the boy to get hurt. And you knew from personal experience, any quidditch injury should be taken rather seriously. But then, why were Theodore's two best friends sitting here in the library with you and not in the hospital wing with him?

You narrow your eyes at the boys across from you.

"So what does this all have to do with me? Nothing good could possibly come of you two starting the conversation with 'don't be mad' and 'just hear us out'."

Lorenzo fidgets nervously, shifting in his seat and Mattheo refuses to make eye contact with you. You truly had never seen the ever stone cold Slytherin boys look so wildly uncomfortable before.

"He got knocked out and when he woke up he was convinced the two of you are madly in love," Lorenzo rushes out, flinching back as if waiting for you to yell at him.

"And now the smitten tosser is requesting the presence of his beloved. He's really torn up about it too," Mattheo adds looking the most serious he’d been, probably ever.

But you were having none of it.

"Alright, hahaha, you almost had me there, you two actually sounded pretty sincere for a bit, but seriously it's not funny anymore. There's simply no reality where Theodore is in love with me, that's disgusting and I'm not stupid."

Mattheo and Lorenzo glance at each other with knowing looks before sighing in unison.

"On Salazar's good name, we are not lying or joking about this," Mattheo says solemly.

"And we didn't want to involve you in this whole thing anyway. We know about how well you and Theo get along. It's just that Madam Pomfrey is concerned that, until she's able to brew something to get Theo's head back on right, any world crushing stress or shock might have lasting, long-term psychological effects or what have you," Lorenzo finishes, emphasizing his last point rather strongly.

You continue to stare at the two boys in front of you as if their heads had been replaced by hippogriffs, slowly understanding what they were asking of you.

“Oh absolutely not. There’s literally no way. I’m not going up there.”

You hated the smell of the hospital wing. It was far too... sterile. Unnervingly so. The last hour of your life had been a blur and frankly you still weren't entirely sure how Lorenzo and Mattheo had managed to wrangle you all the way up to the hospital wing, but here you were.

As you make your way to the large double doors that lead into the infirmary, you send one last pointed glare to the pair of Slytherins behind you before turning, steeling yourself as you prepare for the worst.

The first thing you notice when you enter the brightly lit room is how strangely peaceful it is. As you quietly approach the rows of narrow hospital beds, the second thing you notice is how normal Theodore looks lying there asleep. There's no snarling lips, raised eyebrows, or biting words, it's just Theo. Tilting your head a bit, you're able to really admire the boy for the first time, not worrying about what insult he's going to throw at you next. He actually was rather attractive, you could see why so many of your classmates practically threw themselves at his feet. Maybe you would too if he weren't such an insufferable prat.

Just as you’re about to finally feel a bit more at ease, Theodore has to go and ruin it, because of course he does, by shifting a bit in his bed, eyes fluttering before settling softly on you.

“Morning dolcezza, finally come to see me hm?” he asks, lips curling up into a sickeningly sweet smile. You can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks up at you.

It should’ve been a sweet moment. Something straight out of a romance movie perhaps, but all you could hear was the way he had snarled ‘dolcezza’ at you earlier that day. Nothing but hatred and malice on his face. Not, this. Whatever it was.

“Please don’t call me that,” you blurt out, your body subconsciously stiffening, ready for whatever Theodore was about to throw back at you.

Instead though, he looks hurt. A frown flickers across his face making him look like a kicked puppy and you instantly feel a wave of guilt crash over you.

What the hell had happened out on that quidditch pitch.

Before the situation could get any more uncomfortable than it already was, Madame Pomfrey saves the day as she comes whisking into the hospital wing to check up on her charge.

“Hello dearie, you must be the one Mr. Nott has been going on about all evening,” she says with a knowing glance as she gives Theodore a quick inspection. “Now it’s been my understanding that Mr. Nott hasn’t quite been, well, himself since he woke up. Unfortunately, the specific brew that’s needed for these kinds of things takes a full moon cycle to whip up. Until then...”

You stare at the witch in horror. The idea of being stuck with Theodore for the next month made you want to vomit.

“I feel fine,” Theodore protests, shoving himself into a sitting position and reaching out to clasp onto your hand.

It takes everything in you to not recoil away and you shoot a look at Madam Pomfrey, hoping she’d speak some reason into the boy.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she says instead, “Mr. Nott is clear to go, but do come back if you start feeling dizzy again, I simply won’t have another student fainting in the corridors.”

With that, she ushers Theodore up and out of bed before shooing the both of you out of the hospital wing.

Once the metal doors clang shut behind you, you feel Theodore reach out, grabbing your hand once more.

“Let me walk you to your common room then?” He asks, giving your hand a light squeeze, already tugging you in the direction of Ravenclaw tower.

Resistance seemed futile at this point, so you let the boy drag you along doing your best to avoid conversation and eye contact. You receive several very bewildered stares as you pass your classmates in the hallway, but thankfully no one says anything. Not to your face anyway.

When you finally arrive at your common room door, even the golden eagle mounted to the door looks baffled by your choice of Slytherin companion.

Before you can pull away, Theo presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and you jerk away from him.

“Um, I’ll see you tomorrow carissima,” he murmurs, eyebrows furrowed a bit before he turns and disappears down the corridor.

The first week with Theodore glued to your side is, for lack of better words, literal hell. The next morning on your way down to the great hall for breakfast you simply want to melt into the floor in horror when you find Theodore waiting outside your common room door, garnering a good number of whispers and stares from your fellow housemates.

He takes hold of your hand once again and you begrudgingly follow, silently cursing the brunette boy and the rest of his bloodline.

“Have you finished the charms essay Flitwick assigned last week?” Theodore asks as you stroll through the corridor.

You want to burst out laughing at how comically mundane the question was given the absurdity of the whole situation, but you do your best to keep it together.

“Not quite, just have to wrap up the last few lines I think,” you reply, trying to keep it short.

“We can finish up in the library together tonight then,” Theodore decides.

You open your mouth to protest, but close it just as fast. If you were going to be stuck with this tosser, you might as well extort him you think begrudgingly to yourself.

You can feel several pairs of eyes on you as you sit down next to Theodore at the Slytherin table. Your blue robes stick out like a sore thumb making you rather self conscious. Still, his friends all greet you as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to have you sitting with them and you feel like you’ve entered the twilight zone.

As the rest of the week goes by, it’s all more of the same. Trying to hold back a grimace every time Theodore takes your hand or kisses your forehead good night, pretending you weren’t completely weirded out by the way his friends had so easily adapted you into their little group, ignoring the whispers and side eyes from other students.

Objectively speaking, this could be much worse. Theodore was actually rather tolerable to be around when you weren’t throwing insults back and forth. The real issue was that every time you thought to yourself that Theodore Nott might not be all bad, you’d get a sudden flashback of him and his friends picking on some innocent first or second year, or playing a particularly foul game of quidditch, or the time they’d hexed poor Hermione Granger’s teeth to keep on growing like a beaver's and you’d feel sick to your stomach.

You really didn’t think your hatred for Theodore was all that misplaced. When it came down to it, he and his friends could be down right bullies and you loathed the way they acted as if they were above others. Even now when it came down to it, your whole part in this little cooked up scheme was to protect Theodore’s ego.

It's in the second week that your perception on things begins to crack. You'd been spending a lot of time with Theodore and his friends and, you didn't really know what you had expected, but, it wasn't this.

It was the first time you'd ever been in the Slytherin common room. All dark and cold and dreary. Nothing like Ravenclaw tower, but they were on two opposite ends of the spectrum you supposed. You were sat next to Theodore, buried in your book, one that he had given you, and trying to ignore everything going on around you when a group of first year Slytherins come stumbling into the dungeons, huddled around a young boy who's skin was an alarming shade of electric purple.

You're not prepared for the way the students around you jump into action. Daphne Greengrass is by the boy's side in moments, wiping tears from his cheek as Lorenzo and Pansy interrogate some of the other's as to what had happened.

It had been some second year Gryffindors, one girl said her lower lip trembling. Apparently they had gotten their hands on some of the Weasley twins' underground candies and tricked the poor boy into eating a few.

You watch silently as Draco and Blaise examine the boy before ushering him off to their dormitory, confidently telling him a cure would be easy enough to brew.

In all the commotion, you don't notice Mattheo and Marcus Flint sneaking off to go find a certain group of young lions. But Theodore does.

"Better go make sure they don't take things too far," he sighs, rising from his place next to you and giving your hand a squeeze before following the other boys out of the dungeon. You don't even have time to protest.

You're about to just return to your common room and call it a night when Daphne finds her way over to you, having calmed down most of the shaken up first years, and sits down next to you.

"Sorry you had to see all that," she sighs looking tired and worn down.

"I didn't realize you all were so close," you state, gesturing to some of the older students who had seemingly taken some of the younger ones under their wing now.

"We have to be. If we aren't on our own side, who else will be?" she replies.

When she's met with silence she gives you a tight lipped smile before turning, ready to go.

"So when Theodore and Mattheo get into fights, is it always because—?" You let your words trail off, not really sure where you were taking this and Daphne turns to face you once more.

"Honestly? No. Sometimes they can just be massive pricks. They usually make up for it though." Daphne says as you nod your head in response. "We really do appreciate what you're doing for Theo," she says, switching topics. "I know you don't exactly see eye to eye, and honestly I can't blame you. I know how the boys can be. But between you and me, I've always suspected that he actually liked you, at least a little bit. Maybe this knock to the head got him to finally come to his senses," she laughs.

"I don't know about that. I'm pretty certain once Madam Pomfrey whips up that potion, he'll be right back where we left off," you reply, adding in your own nervous laughter.

"You're only saying that because you don't know what he was really like before. You don't have to believe me, but if you really gave him a chance- you never know."

"Maybe, but I'm pretty sure about this."

Daphne shrugs her shoulders.

"Suit yourself, but um, if you wouldn't mind, maybe don't go spreading this whole incident around the school? We try to keep these kinds of things, discreet. Don't want the other houses to see us sweat and all."

You take a good look at the girl beside you and then at the room full of Slytherin students around you, realizing for the first time that it really did seem as if they had the whole school against them.

"No, of course not. I didn't see a thing," you tell her.

Daphne gives you a grateful smile as she rises to leave.

"He'll be back in a bit. Probably be glad to see you still here," she says before disappearing to her own dormitory.

It's not long before Theodore finally returns, his face lighting up when he spots you still tucked cozily away in your corner, nose buried in the pages of your book.

Theo was very confused to say the least. It had been almost three weeks since he'd been knocked off his broom in that match against the Gryffindors, and things just felt, off. Truth be told, he couldn't really seem to remember much of anything since before the fall. Not clearly at least. It was all fuzzy shadows and warped conversation, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it all.

The only thing he was really certain about, was you. He remembered dreaming about you while he was asleep in the hospital wing, and how angry you had been that day before his match, though he couldn't quite place why. He had worried that that was why you weren't there when he woke up, maybe you were mad at him.

But then the next time he opened his eyes you were there, gazing down at him, and everything had just felt right. Your hand had slotted perfectly with his and he was sure that, out of everyone, you were the person he could trust the most.

So why did you look like you were in pain every time he approached? Why did you flinch away whenever his lips brushed the top of your head? Why did it feel as if you were holding him at an arms length?

All this swirled around in Theo's mind as he sat on the library sofa next to you, watching the warm glow of the fireplace dance across your face.

"Have I done something to make you upset carissima?" Theo asks, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them.

You look up at him, startled by the abrupt question as you snap your book shut.

"No, why do you ask?"

Theo watches you turn your body to face him now, tilting your head as he furrows his eyebrows, trying to put the words together.

"I just, remember things being different, I think," he replies, hating how his brain wasn't letting him form cohesive thoughts.

"Oh?" You look surprised at his statement, eyes darting away from him and Theo can tell he's onto something.

"Was it before the match? Before I fell? Were we fighting about something carissima?" He asks again.

It's obvious you're thinking hard about what to say as Theo reaches out to take your hands in his. For once you don't flinch away from his touch, instead just staring at your intertwined fingers.

"It was something like that," you mumble as Theo rubs careful circles around your knuckles.

“I don’t think I remember a lot very clearly. It’s frustrating sometimes,” Theo admits. “But I remember you.”

“Yeah? What do you remember about me?”

“I remember how you always say hello to the painting outside of the charms classroom. And how you like to sneak snacks into astronomy. I remember the time in third year when we were flying on the quidditch pitch and you were about to get hit by a bludger so I had to move you out of the way.”

You blink at the last memory Theodore shares. You knew what he was talking about, but that’s not how you remembered it. You had been flying yes, when Theodore had come out of nowhere, shoving you while in the sky and then turning, laughing while calling you an idiot. You’d never even seen the bludger.

“I remember kissing you under the bleachers, and holding you by the fireplace. I remember you telling me you loved me.”

And that's where he lost you. Those memories, you didn't know where they came from, but for Theo, they were real. And who knew he was such a sap? You'd never thought the boy was even capable of having emotions.

"Can we start over? I don't remember why you were upset. But I'm sorry. I just want what little memory I have to go back to normal."

Theo watches as you let out a deep sigh. Every word out of Theodore’s mouth was like a punch to the gut, absolutely devastating any sort of resolve you had still been holding.

“Sure Theodore.”

“Just Theo,” he corrects as he pulls you into his arms, tucking your head snuggly under his chin.

The last week you have with Theo, or at least with this version of him, you spend trying not to get too attached. You'd grown rather used to having the boy appear by your side to carry your books or to sneak snacks into the library for you when you'd spent the last several hours putting the final touches on your ancient runes essay. You didn't even mind having to constantly tell him and Mattheo to quiet down anymore.

As it turned out, Daphne had been right about one thing. Theodore and his friends could absolutely be obnoxious, arrogant, pompous pricks, but they did have their ways of charming their way back into your favor. The little parasites. They'd grown on you.

You knew that Madam Pomfrey had finished brewing the elixir before Mattheo could open his mouth just by the guilty expressions on his and Lorenzo's faces when they walked into the Slytherin common room. You'd been frequenting the dungeons a lot more recently, but it looked like that was about to come to an end.

"It's ready then?" you ask, tucking your book away as your hand falls to rest on Theo's arm.

Mattheo just nods his head as you all turn to look at Theo who's still focused on his own book.

"Hey. Madam Pomfrey says she wants to give you one last check. Just to make sure your head is on straight," Mattheo says, thumping Theo on the shoulder.

"Why? I feel fine," Theo replies, an air of annoyance laced in his voice as he's torn away from his book.

"Don't know mate. Just humor the old bat," Enzo sighs.

Theo rolls his eyes before reluctantly rising from the couch, offering you a hand up as well.

"Coming along carissima?" he asks, already reaching out for your hand, but you dodge away.

"I think I'm going to head back up to Ravenclaw tower actually. It's getting pretty late," you reply, feigning a small yawn.

As you exit the dungeons, Enzo catches you by the arm.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with? We don't know for sure that he'll, ya know, go back."

"It's fine Lorenzo. I just- I really can't be up there. We all knew this wasn't a real, permanent thing. I just want to finish my book," you reply, backing away. "I hope Theodore feels more himself, I guess."

You can see Lorenzo's face visibly shift as you revert back to Theodore's full name, his whole demeanor stiffening.

"Right well. Have a night y/n."

And then he's gone.

When you finally make it all the way back to your tower, you collapse onto one of the sofas overlooking the castle grounds, eager to distract yourself by diving back into you book.

"Just come back from the dungeons?" the voice of Marietta Edgecombe asks, dragging your attention away from your novel.

You nod your head, hoping your short answer would encourage the girl to move on quickly.

"I called that one so early on. I've been telling Cho for years, those two are going to end up together, I just know it. And I was right!" she says gleefully, giving your shoulder a little squeeze before flouncing off.

“You came,” Theodore’s voice rings out from his spot on one of the stone benches that lined the walls of the astronomy tower.

“I did,” you reply carefully, watching as he leans back inviting you forward.

It had been almost two weeks since the antidote had been brewed and Theodore looked like he hadn’t slept at all in that time frame. You’d spent that time avoiding him, and all the Slytherins really.

You were confused and you hadn't known what to expect when Theodore came back down from the hospital wing. It had been a strange past month, and now you weren't sure where it left the two of you. What did he remember? Did he care?

You take slow steps forward, Theodore’s eyes never leaving yours until you’re standing directly in front of him. He continues to just stare at you, the silence becoming deafening.

“What do you want, Theodore?” You ask finally, growing frustrated as you let out an agitated sigh.

“Just to talk, dolcezza,” he replies lazily, patting the spot on the bench beside him.

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but taking a seat anyway.

“Don’t call me Theodore,” he shoots back.

You feel your eyebrows raise.

“So you remember then?” You ask.

“I remember. Everything from the past month. And before.”

There’s another pause, less uncomfortable this time though as you both consider his words.

“So why am I here Theo?”

“Cause I can’t keep you out of my head mostly,” he replies, rather resigned to the fact.

“Have you tried?”

Theo gives you an exasperated look.

“Obviously. If I could, I’d just loose feelings for you, but it’s not exactly easy to fall out of love with someone you’ve been holding onto for so long. What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two weeks?” He grumbles stubbornly.

"What do you mean 'holding onto for so long'?" you ask, giving the boy a puzzled look. You'd hardly call a month a long time.

Theo just looks at you again as if silently willing you to simply read his mind. Unfortunately for him, that's not how osmosis works. With another long, drawn out sigh, Theo rests his elbows on his knees letting his head fall into his hands as he mumbles incoherently into his palms.

"Huh?"

He mumbles something again, louder this time. You squint at the boy, trying to make something out.

"If you're trying to confess your undying love for me, you're doing an awful job," you tell him.

This gets Theo to glare up at you, a pout almost visible on his lips. Oh how the mighty fall.

"I've liked you for years," he mutters, his chin resting in his palms now as he refuses to look at you. Pride really was a strange thing.

"Well, you've been truly terrible at showing it, you insufferable prat," you say, giving his shoulder a light shove.

Theo just let's out a grunt, watching your hand on the bench next to him from the corner of his eye. Dear Rowena, you had no idea how you'd ended up falling for this prick.

"But, I suppose you've been, significantly less insufferable this last month or so," you finish, carefully resting your head on his shoulder.

"If you're trying to say you like me too, you're doing an awful job," Theo responds, causing you to immediately tear yourself away from the boy once more.

A smile finally cracks Theo's lips as he smirks playfully up at your deadpan reaction.

"I take it back. I actually hate you. You are the worst."

"Aw, come on now carissima, did the last month mean nothing to you?" Theo asks, pulling you back into him, the same way he did that one night in the library.

"It meant literally nothing. You were being weirdly nice and clingy the whole time," you reply, begrudgingly feeling yourself melt into him.

It wasn't your fault you'd been going through withdrawals the last two weeks, okay? Theo's chest shakes with laughter against your head.

"Contrary to popular belief, I can be somewhat tolerable sometimes."

"Then why the fuck have you spent the last several years being such a prick? It was just pushing me away you know."

"That was kind of the point," Theo says, making you scoff. "Love is weakness and all."

God, the emotional whiplash was going to make you sick.

"Well, which one is the real you?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Not if you want me to put up with your sorry arse."

Theo lets out another quiet laugh.

"Well, you might have to learn to love both sides, because I do fear you're stuck with me," Theo responds, pulling you closer to his chest. "Now come here you little minx."

Before you can protest, Theo's hand has found your chin, tilting your head up just enough for him to capture your lips with his own. It's soft, hesitant at first, as if he's not sure if you'll pull away or not. But your hand finds its way into his hair, pulling him closer still as you move your lips against his, nipping, teasing. You can feel the smile grow on Theo's face as he deepens the kiss, his other hand finding it's way to rest on your thigh.

When you finally pull away, you can still feel his warm breath on your face as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"For the record, I still hate you," you say, still slightly out of breath, a teasing smile playing across your lips.

"I'm sure you do carissima. I hate you too," Theo replies before engulfing you in his arms once more.

Taglist: @adreamingpendulum @ahead-fullofdreams

#dreamcubed recs #theodore nott #theo nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott fanfic

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dreamcubed · 2 months ago

Text

cornelia street | remus lupin x reader

song; cornelia street [taylor swift] pairing; remus lupin x fem!werewolf!reader genre; s2l, soulmates, angst, hurt comfort word count; 2,8k timeline; after marauders finish hogwarts, no voldemort au warnings; social anxiety, social recluse, suicidal thoughts, childhood trauma, referenced death of minor characters, trust issues summary; when rejected by society, we sink into the shadows. when accepted by someone, we find the strength to live in light

and with this, my lover anthology is officially complete!

masterlist

"i hope i never lose you, hope it never ends."

—————————————————

Rumours circulated one particular street of wizarding London, and had done so for years, about a woman who isolated herself from the outer world. There was a house on Cornelia Street, similar to the other houses littered along the neighbourhood in almost every way, apart from the fact that nobody was ever seen leaving or entering. It was not on the market, nor owned by any governing body, but it appeared empty. Many believed that the house was deserted, rejecting the rumours with logic and realism, but many more superstitious residents suspected there was truth in what they heard.

You could confirm that the rumours were true.

Ordering groceries via fireplace was your means of survival: you were endlessly grateful that the food arrived alone, voiding the need for human interaction. It was a perfect arrangement.

It was a Saturday morning when your peace was disturbed.

***

"Come on, guys, don't be pussies," James taunted his friends, "Afraid of a little ghost?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, "There were ghosts all over Hogwarts."

"But maybe this one is evil!" James laughed.

With a sigh, Remus climbed the steps to the house's front door, "You're about to become a dad and you're still acting like a schoolboy."

"I'm just getting it out of my system!" he argued, lifting his hand to knock on the door. Upon no response, his hand reached for the doorknob. "It's locked."

Sirius pulled out his wand, muttering, "Alohamora."

A click was heard.

"This is trespassing," Remus reminded, but he knew that his words would fall on deaf ears. Reluctantly, he followed his friends into the seemingly abandoned house.

***

You had heard the men outside long before they actually made the move to enter your home, and to say that you were terrified would be an understatement. Not only may you have to talk to people for the first time in years, but they could very well be intruding with the intent of causing harm. In a state of panic, you desperately searched for your wand, which you had put away years ago.

Finally, you found it, and fumbled to pick it up with your sweaty hands— you could hear them coming up the stairs.

"Prongs, this place doesn't look abandoned," a man said cautiously.

Prongs. Even the name sounded threatening.

"There's no way," someone replied, perhaps Prongs, "No one has seen any evidence of life from this place in forever."

You watched in horror as the doorknob to your bedroom began to turn, and a figure revealed itself in the doorway.

"Stupefy!" you yelled without hesitation, watching him drop to the ground. Your voice was a foreign sound to you.

The two men stood behind the one on the ground held up their hands in surrender.

"We're sorry, we thought no one lived here," one of them spoke, "We didn't mean to scare you."

You held your wand towards them, shaking as you did so.

"We will leave right away."

The two men slowly moved to help their friend up, backing away cautiously while you continued to point your wand towards them. You followed them to the door, and as they muttered more apologies, you slammed it in their face.

Then, you broke down crying.

***

Your elusive nature had always lingered in your movements and words, even when you attended Hogwarts. Never did you have any friends, never did you speak unless was absolutely necessary. You quietly completed your assignments and ate your meals, more adjacent to one of the ghosts than one of the students. People learned to leave you alone.

It was when your parents disappeared— suddenly, inexplicably— that you fully retreated into the shadows of your sorrow. You had just completed your OWLs, and felt no desire to go further, so dropped out of Hogwarts. Once your parents had been declared dead after having been missing for so long, you sold the house you grew up in, and used the money to buy the home on Cornelia Street. And, with your inheritance money, you survived cautiously as a hermit, only ever spending the bare minimum on food and bills, and most importantly— never leaving your house.

The three men were the first people that you had spoken to in years, even if you said nothing more than a spell. One of them in particular had caught your attention: the man with tousled brown hair, and scars littering every visible part of his skin.

You were curious about him, but at the same time the visit was unwelcome and mortifying.

***

Two weeks later, and you heard a knock on your door. Cautiously, you peered out your window to see the same man you had been most intrigued by of the three intruders. Of course, that did not mean you were going to open the door.

"I know you're in there," he said softly, "I don't mean to scare you, but I brought a peace offering."

That was when you noticed the small basket he held in one hand. Still, you made no movement to open the door.

Eventually, he placed the basket on your doorstep, and said words that were, somehow, both threatening and comforting. "I'll be back."

Once you were sure that he was gone, you crept down your own stairs to open your door: an action that you had not done since you moved in. It creaked and groaned from the lack of use, and then the fresh air hit your face— tantalising, reviving, and foreign. For a few moments, you relished in the sensation, before coming to your senses and hastily grabbing the basket, slamming the door shut.

You reached into the woven carrier with shaky hands, lifting the chequered cloth to reveal a warm, golden pie that smelled simply divine. By it, there was a note, and upon closer inspection, you learned the name of the fascinating man.

Remus Lupin.

***

The scars on your body had been a subject up for debate between every student when you attended Hogwarts; at least, at the beginning.

It seemed pretty obvious why they were there— but, then again, maybe it was only obvious to you. That was why Remus Lupin had caught your attention, why his markings had plagued your thoughts ever since you met him.

He had to be younger than you, at least five years, because you did not remember him from school, and you certainly would have noticed someone with such shocking similarity to you. Your entire time at Hogwarts, you had spent hoping and praying that someone who understood would appear: they never did, and you gave up, deciding to not even seek out your own kind.

You had considered suicide.

Something inside you stopped you from attempting every time that you came close.

Now, you found yourself sitting at your dining room table, coming to the painstaking realisation that if you had just stayed for your NEWTs, you would likely have been there for when Remus began school.

Why could you not hold out a little longer?

And why are you almost glad that you did not meet him when the age difference was inappropriate?

Maybe it was fate that you did not cross paths until both of you had reached adulthood.

***

He visited every week without fail with a freshly baked good. You did not open the door, but began to leave the empty basket outside for him to collect. The ingrained politeness in you hinted that you should at least show some indication that you appreciated his offerings.

Today, his visit was due. But you doubted whether or not he would show up. He was likely experiencing the same fevers and pain that you were, for the full moon was that night.

Thus, you were surprised when the familiar knock sounded on your door— and, to your shock, relieved. As was your routine, you peered out the window: only, this time, he was empty-handed. You were concerned, not about the lack of gift, but about the fact the sun was going to set soon.

"Hello," he said with a strained voice, "Can you let me in?"

You did not want to: your developed favouring toward solitude did not allow it.

But your understanding of the torment of being a werewolf meant you could not live with yourself if you abandoned one of your own in a time of need. Not to mention that if you did not let him in, he may cause irreparable damage and carnage to others.

Thus, ever so slowly, you cracked open the door.

Remus' eyes locked on to your shy and cautious ones.

"I know you know," he said quietly, sweat trickling down his brow, despite the cool temperature, "We can smell each other from a mile away."

You said nothing.

"Please."

You let him in. In a way, you knew that he purposefully came at this time so that you had no choice but to face him. It was a perfectly executed move: one that you had to commend him for.

"Why did you come here?" you asked quietly, despite knowing the answer.

"I think you know."

You chewed on your lip.

"What's your name?"

Your breath hitched— you had not uttered, nor heard someone else utter, your name in years. You were scared to say it.

"You know mine."

"Y/N," you said delicately, the sounds feeling strange and bitter.

"That's a pretty name."

"We must head down to the cellar," you replied, wanting to change the subject.

He nodded.

You led him down to your vaulted basement, with a charm-locked reinforced metal door that no rage-fuelled werewolf could get open. Down the steps, there were chains dangling from the walls that would have looked sadistic if taken out of context.

"We probably won't need them," he said.

Frowning, you turned to him, "Why?"

"You don't know?" he was confused— that much was evident.

"Know what?"

"We're mates," he said calmly, trying to disguise his hurt, "Can't you feel it?"

Two words. Two words that caused something inside you to click and unravel all the questions you had held about why you were so intrigued by Remus. About why you took his offerings, when if anyone else had left them, you would not have even opened the door.

All you could muster was a short, "Oh."

"You know what entails?" he asked, and when you shook your head, he continued, "We have full autonomy on full moons as long as we are with each other."

***

As a precaution, you both still chained yourselves up, but even as you embraced the pain of cracking bones rearranging, you did not feel your mind slipping away from you like it usually did. You did not feel the lava-hot fury swarming through your bloodstream.

You were calm, and conscious.

Neither of you were able to talk while in wolf form, but it was a silence of understanding and comfort, a silence of relief from the years of torture that you had both been through. Being fully aware, you unchained yourself— as did he— and cautiously moved closer to him until you felt the first sensation of live warmth for a long time. Gradually, you curled more and more into him, until you both fell asleep, wrapped in a peaceful haze.

***

"Y/N," Remus murmured the next morning, back in his human form, "Wake up, it's over."

You slowly peeled your eyes open, then jolted awake when you realised your position. Hurriedly, you pulled away from Remus' embrace.

"How did you sleep?"

You gave a small sigh, "Like a baby."

"Me too."

"I— I remember everything."

"Me too."

"And I have no new scars."

"Me neither," he smiled softly, as you processed the information, and the fact that you had just spoken almost full sentences.

But what now? Where would this revelation lead you?

Remus must have sensed your internal questions, because he said, "We don't have to rush into anything. We can go slow."

Gently, you nodded.

"I'll continue my weekly visits— but maybe you can let me in from now on?"

You had a feeling that letting him in was not just a reference to allowing him inside your house.

***

Remus placed his cup of tea on the table and fell into quiet, staring at a tiny particle of dust settled on the tarnished wood. He chewed on his inner cheek for a while before saying, "And how are you today?"

It was a question that he had learned to avoid during his weekly visits, as you did not respond well to it— becoming defensive and shutting down entirely.

Your eyes widened, surprised by his comeback with your most hated query, "I— I'm..."

Remus waited for you to continue.

"I'm better," you finally spoke.

"I'm glad."

"How— How are you?"

"I'm better," he repeated, "Better than I've ever been."

You could not stop yourself from asking, "Why?"

"Because I'm no longer afraid of what I am."

"Oh."

You then realised that you were not scared or ashamed either.

***

You heard a soft tap on your front door, and frowned. Only two days prior had Remus paid a visit, and he had never strayed from the routine.

"Y/N. It's me."

You knew that. You could sense him outside without looking.

"Can I come in?"

These days, you did not hesitate to turn the doorknob and allow the wooden door to creak open, revealing your apparent mate, Remus Lupin.

"Why are you here?" you said quickly, catching yourself by surprise: you were never the first one to talk.

"I wanted to see you."

You blushed, "But you just saw me."

He did not reply, entering your house.

You stared at him, feeling your shock dissipate back into a gentle excited hum. Before Remus, that hum had been non-existent.

"It's getting harder to be away from you," he said.

"Why?"

"Mates are seldom seen apart for a reason," he replied softly, "Don't pretend that you don't feel it too."

You had, of course, but you had a tendency to live in denial. "I've started seeing stars."

He remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I can't think, can't eat, can't cope," you admitted slowly, "Until you're here."

Letting out a hum, he asked, "Are you ready to let me in?"

"I just let you in."

"But are you ready to let me in here?" he pressed his finger gently against your chest. His touch was far from alarming: it was comforting.

"I— I don't know."

"Don't you?"

"I— I..." you stuttered, moving away from him and walking over to the window.

You heard him shift, and a couple minutes of silence passed before he said, "I'm not asking for you to tell me everything right here, right now. I just... I just want you to trust me."

You let out a sigh, mumbling, "I know."

"Do you?"

You thought for a moment, "I think so."

"So? Can we take the next step?"

"What's the next step?"

His hand met your shoulder, and you flinched, but made no effort to move away. "Look at me."

At an overly cautious pace, you turned around.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your head began to nod before you could stop it.

But you melted into the kiss.

Everything with Remus felt right.

"I thought I'd never find you," he murmured, forehead still pressed to yours.

"I didn't know there was a you to find."

He chuckled, "We can start fresh. Together. Away from the shackles of our past."

Softly, you smiled, an action that made your cheeks ache from the prior absence of operation.

"Will you try with me?"

"...Yes."

***

What once had been known as the abandoned house of Cornelia Street, now was a beacon of warmth and love. The residents were well-known for their dinner parties and barbecues, and for always having their friends visit with their children. Laughter echoed within the walls, following the romantic mischief of the couple that rose above all their obstacles.

Anyone who passed by the vibrant home, and cared to glance at the gate, would see a plaque: handmade, sat directly underneath the name of the house.

"I hope I never lose you Hope it never ends I'd never walk Cornelia Street again."

——————————————

masterlist

written; 09/05/2025 —> 12/05/2025 published; 12/05/2025 edited; —/—/——

#remus lupin x reader

39 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 2 months ago

Text

cornelia street | remus lupin x reader

and with this, my lover anthology is officially complete!

masterlist

"i hope i never lose you, hope it never ends."

—————————————————

You could confirm that the rumours were true.

Ordering groceries via fireplace was your means of survival: you were endlessly grateful that the food arrived alone, voiding the need for human interaction. It was a perfect arrangement.

It was a Saturday morning when your peace was disturbed.

***

"Come on, guys, don't be pussies," James taunted his friends, "Afraid of a little ghost?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, "There were ghosts all over Hogwarts."

"But maybe this one is evil!" James laughed.

With a sigh, Remus climbed the steps to the house's front door, "You're about to become a dad and you're still acting like a schoolboy."

"I'm just getting it out of my system!" he argued, lifting his hand to knock on the door. Upon no response, his hand reached for the doorknob. "It's locked."

Sirius pulled out his wand, muttering, "Alohamora."

A click was heard.

"This is trespassing," Remus reminded, but he knew that his words would fall on deaf ears. Reluctantly, he followed his friends into the seemingly abandoned house.

***

Finally, you found it, and fumbled to pick it up with your sweaty hands— you could hear them coming up the stairs.

"Prongs, this place doesn't look abandoned," a man said cautiously.

Prongs. Even the name sounded threatening.

"There's no way," someone replied, perhaps Prongs, "No one has seen any evidence of life from this place in forever."

You watched in horror as the doorknob to your bedroom began to turn, and a figure revealed itself in the doorway.

"Stupefy!" you yelled without hesitation, watching him drop to the ground. Your voice was a foreign sound to you.

The two men stood behind the one on the ground held up their hands in surrender.

"We're sorry, we thought no one lived here," one of them spoke, "We didn't mean to scare you."

You held your wand towards them, shaking as you did so.

"We will leave right away."

Then, you broke down crying.

***

You were curious about him, but at the same time the visit was unwelcome and mortifying.

***

"I know you're in there," he said softly, "I don't mean to scare you, but I brought a peace offering."

That was when you noticed the small basket he held in one hand. Still, you made no movement to open the door.

Eventually, he placed the basket on your doorstep, and said words that were, somehow, both threatening and comforting. "I'll be back."

Remus Lupin.

***

The scars on your body had been a subject up for debate between every student when you attended Hogwarts; at least, at the beginning.

You had considered suicide.

Something inside you stopped you from attempting every time that you came close.

Why could you not hold out a little longer?

And why are you almost glad that you did not meet him when the age difference was inappropriate?

Maybe it was fate that you did not cross paths until both of you had reached adulthood.

***

Today, his visit was due. But you doubted whether or not he would show up. He was likely experiencing the same fevers and pain that you were, for the full moon was that night.

"Hello," he said with a strained voice, "Can you let me in?"

You did not want to: your developed favouring toward solitude did not allow it.

Thus, ever so slowly, you cracked open the door.

Remus' eyes locked on to your shy and cautious ones.

"I know you know," he said quietly, sweat trickling down his brow, despite the cool temperature, "We can smell each other from a mile away."

You said nothing.

"Please."

You let him in. In a way, you knew that he purposefully came at this time so that you had no choice but to face him. It was a perfectly executed move: one that you had to commend him for.

"Why did you come here?" you asked quietly, despite knowing the answer.

"I think you know."

You chewed on your lip.

"What's your name?"

Your breath hitched— you had not uttered, nor heard someone else utter, your name in years. You were scared to say it.

"You know mine."

"Y/N," you said delicately, the sounds feeling strange and bitter.

"That's a pretty name."

"We must head down to the cellar," you replied, wanting to change the subject.

He nodded.

"We probably won't need them," he said.

Frowning, you turned to him, "Why?"

"You don't know?" he was confused— that much was evident.

"Know what?"

"We're mates," he said calmly, trying to disguise his hurt, "Can't you feel it?"

All you could muster was a short, "Oh."

"You know what entails?" he asked, and when you shook your head, he continued, "We have full autonomy on full moons as long as we are with each other."

***

You were calm, and conscious.

***

"Y/N," Remus murmured the next morning, back in his human form, "Wake up, it's over."

You slowly peeled your eyes open, then jolted awake when you realised your position. Hurriedly, you pulled away from Remus' embrace.

"How did you sleep?"

You gave a small sigh, "Like a baby."

"Me too."

"I— I remember everything."

"Me too."

"And I have no new scars."

"Me neither," he smiled softly, as you processed the information, and the fact that you had just spoken almost full sentences.

But what now? Where would this revelation lead you?

Remus must have sensed your internal questions, because he said, "We don't have to rush into anything. We can go slow."

Gently, you nodded.

"I'll continue my weekly visits— but maybe you can let me in from now on?"

You had a feeling that letting him in was not just a reference to allowing him inside your house.

***

It was a question that he had learned to avoid during his weekly visits, as you did not respond well to it— becoming defensive and shutting down entirely.

Your eyes widened, surprised by his comeback with your most hated query, "I— I'm..."

Remus waited for you to continue.

"I'm better," you finally spoke.

"I'm glad."

"How— How are you?"

"I'm better," he repeated, "Better than I've ever been."

You could not stop yourself from asking, "Why?"

"Because I'm no longer afraid of what I am."

"Oh."

You then realised that you were not scared or ashamed either.

***

You heard a soft tap on your front door, and frowned. Only two days prior had Remus paid a visit, and he had never strayed from the routine.

"Y/N. It's me."

You knew that. You could sense him outside without looking.

"Can I come in?"

These days, you did not hesitate to turn the doorknob and allow the wooden door to creak open, revealing your apparent mate, Remus Lupin.

"Why are you here?" you said quickly, catching yourself by surprise: you were never the first one to talk.

"I wanted to see you."

You blushed, "But you just saw me."

He did not reply, entering your house.

You stared at him, feeling your shock dissipate back into a gentle excited hum. Before Remus, that hum had been non-existent.

"It's getting harder to be away from you," he said.

"Why?"

"Mates are seldom seen apart for a reason," he replied softly, "Don't pretend that you don't feel it too."

You had, of course, but you had a tendency to live in denial. "I've started seeing stars."

He remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I can't think, can't eat, can't cope," you admitted slowly, "Until you're here."

Letting out a hum, he asked, "Are you ready to let me in?"

"I just let you in."

"But are you ready to let me in here?" he pressed his finger gently against your chest. His touch was far from alarming: it was comforting.

"I— I don't know."

"Don't you?"

"I— I..." you stuttered, moving away from him and walking over to the window.

You heard him shift, and a couple minutes of silence passed before he said, "I'm not asking for you to tell me everything right here, right now. I just... I just want you to trust me."

You let out a sigh, mumbling, "I know."

"Do you?"

You thought for a moment, "I think so."

"So? Can we take the next step?"

"What's the next step?"

His hand met your shoulder, and you flinched, but made no effort to move away. "Look at me."

At an overly cautious pace, you turned around.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your head began to nod before you could stop it.

But you melted into the kiss.

Everything with Remus felt right.

"I thought I'd never find you," he murmured, forehead still pressed to yours.

"I didn't know there was a you to find."

He chuckled, "We can start fresh. Together. Away from the shackles of our past."

Softly, you smiled, an action that made your cheeks ache from the prior absence of operation.

"Will you try with me?"

"...Yes."

***

Anyone who passed by the vibrant home, and cared to glance at the gate, would see a plaque: handmade, sat directly underneath the name of the house.

"I hope I never lose you Hope it never ends I'd never walk Cornelia Street again."

——————————————

masterlist

written; 09/05/2025 —> 12/05/2025 published; 12/05/2025 edited; —/—/——

39 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 2 months ago

Text

the manuscript | lorenzo berkshire x reader

song; the manuscript [taylor swift] pairing; lorenzo berkshire x fem!muggle!reader genre; s2l, angst, fluff, hurt comfort word count; 3,3k timeline; post-war warnings; implied anxiety, past manipulative/emotionally abusive relationship (not with enzo), past age gap relationship (not with enzo), mentions of therapy, mentioned heartbreak (not with enzo), reference to loss of virginity, insecurities summary; getting over your brutal first relationship was years in the making, until you met a guy who seemed to know exactly how to patch up your wounds

another old draft gone under severe editing

masterlist

"now and then i reread the manuscript, but the story isn't mine anymore."

——————————————

When you were eighteen, you were reeling from years of unpopularity, insecurities, and a lack of romantic and sexual experience. You felt unloveable, unworthy of male attention, and so incredibly lonely. Then, you met a man named Adam— he was attentive, doted on you, filled all of the gaps that had been dug during your school years. Finally, someone thought you were worthy of love, thought you were pretty, and intelligent, and funny.

But he was thirty-two years old, and your family disapproved. They did not outright forbid you from dating Adam, but they discouraged you, told you that he was taking advantage of your naïvety, that there was a power imbalance. You shut them out, too enthralled with the idea of being perfect to someone, too eager to experience all of the things that you missed out on.

And then, once he had taken your virginity from you, after four months of dates and presents, he ghosted you. Just like that. He had dropped you off at your home the morning after, promising to call you later— but he never did. You tried to call him, but he never answered. Your world came crashing down around you as you realised that your family had been right.

Breaking down to your mother, she held you and comforted you: you slept in her bed, ate cereal for dinner, and cried every single day. It was your first heartbreak, when you thought it would be until death did you part. From discussing marriage, to having children, to amazing Summer holidays— to radio silence and the echo of promises that were made in manipulation. Your self-esteem plummeted even further, and as a result you decided to start therapy, to love yourself first.

And, two years later, you were more confident in yourself: still, you did not receive attention from guys, and made no attempt to pursue them yourself. Yet, you had made peace with this, as you were scared of being hurt again anyway.

***

Le Petit Café was, as described, a small cafe on the corner of a busy but pretty London street. It wasn't well known, but anyone who discovered it frequently found themselves returning; you were grateful to have secured a job there while you studied at university. While it wasn't the best paid line of work, the prettiness of that specific cafe made it a more than tolerable experience. Plus, the soft atmosphere of the place meant they rarely had to deal with the more difficult genre of customers.

It was a cold Friday afternoon when Lorenzo and a couple of his friends had decided to spend the their time exploring muggle London— something that had been encouraged in the wizarding world following the war. They decided that they were all in need of some delicious hot drinks on such a frosty day, so began wandering in order to find the ideal cafe to meet their needs. Le Petit Café always caught people's eyes.

You looked up from the countertop that you were polishing when the bell rang, alerting you of arriving customers. Seeing non-regulars was always a gamble, as you had no idea what they would be like. Nonetheless, you greeted them with a kind smile and prepared yourself for whatever was about to come. Grabbing a few menus, you headed over to the table that the group had seated themselves at.

"Hello and welcome," you handed out the menus, "The specials board is over there, and I should tell you in advance we are currently out of oat milk, so sorry for any inconvenience. Just call me over when you're ready to order."

They all thanked you, the last one to thank you being a tall (though, they were all tall) guy who was adorning rosy cheeks due to the cold. Your eyes lingered on him as you went back behind the counter.

"We're ready to order," the tallest of the group said, the café was quiet enough that you could easily hear them.

You smiled, grabbing your notepad and walking over to the table. "What can I get you all?"

"I'll just have a latte please," the one who called you over said.

The second guy then said, "Can I have a hot chocolate? With cream and marshmallows? Thank you."

You scribbled the orders down as the third member of the group told you what he wanted. "What about you, Lorenzo?" he finished with.

Your eyes flickered to the man of whom initially caught your eye. Lorenzo definitely suited him.

"I'll have- uh- a cappuccino please."

"Perfect, is that all?"

***

As the group exchanged jokes, stories, and anecdotes while sipping their drinks, you couldn't help but glance at them frequently. Maybe it was envy getting the better of you, or maybe it was the way that you were drawn to Lorenzo. He was a pretty boy, and that was all you could really say thus far. He was also evidently funny, as his friends laughed at things he said a lot; it was a shame that you couldn't quite pick up on his exact words over the whirring of the coffee machine.

On one instance, you made the mistake of staring a little too long, and Lorenzo's dark chocolate eyes flicked over to yours. You must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but all he did was give you a gentle smile. It caused a golden fuzziness to erupt within you, and you found yourself smiling back widely.

Your fear of romance still tickled in the back of your mind, but there was nothing wrong with a little observation, you reasoned.

It was when the group was preparing to leave that the tallest — of whom you had heard referred to as Blaise — nudged Lorenzo in your direction.

"Hi, can I have the bill please?" he asked.

You were enraptured with staring at him.

"Hello?" he waved his hand a little, causing you to snap out of your daze.

"Yes, sorry," you gave him the bill, and he pulled cash out of his pocket. He appeared confused as he counted the notes and coins out.

You watched curiously as he counted, secretly wondering if he was bad at maths, but you did not mind the extra time it gave you with him.

"Here, I think this is right."

Accepting the cash, you counted it out and put it in the till, beginning to count the coins, "That's four pounds change."

"Uh, keep it," he said quickly.

"Oh! Thank yo-"

"Can I get your number?" he asked suddenly, causing you to freeze up.

"What?"

"Sorry- um," he said, then muttering to himself, "Theo swore that's how muggles communicate," he then spoke louder again, "Can I get some way to communicate with you?"

"Yes," you said immediately after registering exactly what he had asked of you, despite your confusion of his words. Not even to mention your fear, which had taken a backseat as the impulsion to say 'yes' overtook you. Realising that you could not back out now, despite your anxiety, you took his receipt which was still sat on the counter, and scribbled down your home number.

"Great, thank you...?"

"Y/N."

"Thank you, Y/N. I'll text you later." He turned to leave, but faced you again when he continued. "I'm Lorenzo, if I haven't already said."

Your internal scream would have caused deafness had it been external.

Meanwhile, outside, Lorenzo asked one question to his friends: "How do I use this number?"

***

Lorenzo did not reach out to you for the next three days, much to your relief. While he was undeniably attractive, you did not think you were ready, and had been praying that he would lose your number or forget about you altogether.

Until, one fateful evening, you were sat in your room listening to music when your mother shouted you from downstairs. "Y/N! Someone's called for you!"

Your stomach dropped, but still you went downstairs and nervously took the phone from your mother's hand, murmuring a small, "Hi."

"Hello, it's— uh— Lorenzo. Sorry I took so long to— uh— call(?) you... I had to get a new tele(?)— telephone."

Why did he seem so confused about anything relating to phones? It reminded you of how unsure he was when he asked you for your number— and the word that he used. Muggles.

"That's okay," you said quietly.

"Well, I think you're really cute, so I was wondering if you would like to go on a date?" Lorenzo asked, this time fully confident in what he was saying, giving you whiplash.

Your mother had been watching the conversation, and could faintly hear what Lorenzo was saying. Just as you went to say no, she nudged you, and mouthed 'say yes'. You frowned and shook your head.

"Y/N?" Lorenzo's voice reminded you that you needed to reply.

Your mother glared at you, and reluctantly you said, "Yes... that would be nice," glaring back at your mother as you did so.

Once the details of the date had been arranged, you finally hung up the phone and crossed your arms.

"It's about time you dated again."

"You don't even know if he's the same age as me!"

"I do."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

"I interrogated him before I called you down."

"You what?"

"His name is Lorenzo Berkshire, he is twenty-one years old, and he studies literature. He said he met you at the café."

"Oh my God," you mumbled, mortifyingly embarrassed.

***

The following weekend, Lorenzo picked you up from your home on foot, holding a bouquet of roses and dressed elegantly in a suit. He had informed you to dress well, and you had to go shopping for the occasion— all of the fancy attire you obtained from when you dated Adam, you had burned.

Wearing a floor length navy blue dress and a nervous smile, you accepted the flowers and smelled them. "Thank you," you murmured, handing them to your mother who was excitedly stood behind you.

"Have fun!" she said, pushing you out of the door.

Lorenzo took you to an expensive five-star restaurant which only created numerous questions of how much money he had and where he got it from. You asked none of them — yet — allowing him to pull your seat out for you before he dared to sit down.

"You are stunning," he said.

"You've said already," you replied quietly, "But thank you."

Where Adam would make comments about your maturity, and how he was the only one who could find someone like you beautiful, Lorenzo made honest compliments with no conditions or backhandedness. He asked questions about your hobbies and interests, rather than your previous romantic experience, and did not make a comment about how much you ate.

Adam would have said, "Don't get too much food! I can't spend all of my money on you," in a cheap takeaway joint.

Lorenzo said, "Get whatever you want," in a restaurant where each dish was at least thirty pounds.

You asked him questions about his lifestyle and friends, but did not dare to question his confusion around telephones, nor his financial status. Although, those questions were at the forefront of your mind when it came time to pay, and that familiar look of confusion dawned on his face as began counting out notes.

"Do you struggle with maths?" you asked as politely as you could.

His eyes widened, then he rushed to say, "No— I'm just not used to this currency."

"You've spent a lot of time abroad?"

"Um, kind of," he said slowly, "I'll tell you more about it in the future."

You nodded, accepting that he did not want to be interrogated about this just yet. "So, there will be a second date?" you asked awkwardly, unsure how you felt about that. On the one hand, you were filled with butterflies. On the other, your past scars burned.

"If you will allow me one," Lorenzo smiled, finally placing the money on the bill plate.

As your mother's words echoed in your head, and the happiness that this man brought to you sank in, you finally said, "That would be amazing."

He beamed.

Leaving the restaurant on his arm, you said, "Thank you for dinner."

"It was my pleasure. I can't wait for more dates."

***

A handful of dates later, Lorenzo asked late one morning if you would come hang out with his friends, as he wanted you to properly meet them: you found yourself agreeing more easily than you would ever admit.

"So, we're playing laser tag?" you spoke, looking around at the group of people you now knew to be Blaise, Theo, Mattheo, Draco, and, of course, Lorenzo.

"Yeah," Mattheo smiled, "We're gonna split into teams of three."

In the end, you found yourself in a team with Lorenzo and Theo, and you were suited up in the colour red before you headed to one end of the space-themed building. Black laser guns in hand, they hid behind one of the many walls as someone on the announcement speaker called out, "You earn points by lasering the vests on your opponents. Whoever has the most points at the end of the twenty minutes wins."

"Alright, team, what's the game plan?" Theo asked.

"Divide and conquer," Lorenzo spoke.

You shook your head, "I say strength in numbers. They're all probably gonna split up— we can corner them one at a time and have at it."

"I agree with that plan," Theo said, "Majority wins— sorry, Enzo."

"Beginning game in five... four... three... two... one."

Your guns suddenly flashed on in a red colour, and you quickly began tiptoeing in a line with Theo taking the lead and you taking the back. Suddenly, the booming sound of footsteps running up the ramp rang out across the room.

"Definitely meant to be a distraction," you whispered, "Stay down here, I reckon the other two are waitin' on us."

"Yes, cap'n," Theo said, rounding a corner.

It wasn't long before shooting sounds broke out when they came face to face with both Draco and Blaise.

It also wasn't long before the round was over, and the red team were announced victorious. You high fived Theo, and then Lorenzo, smiling sweetly at the latter. Blood rushed to his cheeks at the gesture, which didn't go unnoticed by Mattheo, who instantly began teasing.

Then an 'every man for themselves' round was announced, as each of your guns' lights changed to the colour green. The countdown began, all of you immediately scattering in different directions. You opted for running up the ramp, not worried about the noise as Mattheo was close behind you, but you went separate ways when reaching the top. It seemed like he would be your first battle of this round.

"One." The announcer finished the countdown.

Creeping around silently and weaving between the walls, you heard some movement from not too far away, and stilled yourself. You prepared your gun for an attack as you tapped your foot gently on the floor, so only anybody within a few feet could have heard it. The second afterwards, yells came from downstairs, but you didn't let yourself focus on that.

A tall figure jumped from around the corner; without hesitation, you pointed your gun at who was unmistakably Mattheo and began shooting. He began shooting back, and only when you felt that you had gained enough points did you disappear around the corner and away from him.

Someone was heard coming up the ramp, and you took the opportunity to dash quickly down yourself in order to confuse the others. Once you were downstairs, you tucked yourself into a corner and listened carefully to your surroundings. When playing solo, your game plan was not to seek out others, but let others seek out you. Why should you have to do all the dirty work, anyway?

***

"Okay, Y/N, you're really fucking good at laser tag," Mattheo said, as you all sipped at milkshakes in a 50s themed diner nearby.

"Yeah, did you grow up at a laser tag place or what?" Theo added.

You smiled at them all, "No, I've only played it a couple of times. Doesn't seem like you guys had ever played before." You could feel the way that Lorenzo was staring at you.

"No, we haven't," Mattheo shrugged.

You were about to open your mouth to say something else when your pager began buzzing, so you apologised and left to ask the staff to use their telephone. They agreed, and you picked up.

"Y/N, I need you to pick me up, mum's busy." It was your younger sister.

Hanging up the call, you headed back to the group and said, "Sorry, I have to pick up my sister from practice. This has been fun, I'll see you all later, yeah?"

They all said their farewells— Lorenzo even kissed you on the cheek.

***

Later that week, at around 1am, Lorenzo was reading a book when his telephone, that he only ever used to call you, rang.

Hoping it was you, he picked up.

It was, and his heart flipped inside his chest.

"Hi! How was your night? Mine was shit... then I thought about you... and felt better."

You definitely were not sober: he had never heard you be so forward before.

"I can't get you out of my mind. Um, wanna come 'round?" you continued.

"Yes," he said immediately, "I'm on my way."

So, there Lorenzo found himself, sat in the kitchen of your home and watching as you drunkenly made yourself toast. You had informed him that you were home alone that night.

"D'you want some?" you asked lazily.

He shook his head, giving you a smile, "I'm good, thanks."

"Whatever you say, baby," you slurred, jumping when the toaster pinged.

"Did- did you just call me baby?" he flushed bright red, making you laugh at him. What in Salazar's name had happened to the awkward girl he knew?

"Maybe... is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's- uh- cool," he abashedly rubbed the back of his neck, "I liked it."

You hummed, "Good."

Watching as you plated the toast and began spreading butter on it, Lorenzo couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth swirling in his insides. He truly felt comfortable around you as your personality oozed safety— not to mention attraction.

"So, pretty boy, what d'you wanna do?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked quickly, making you pause.

Your drunken confidence faltered for a second, as you thought over the implications of being official. Finally, you decided that you could not let Adam dictate the rest of your life— something your therapist had been discussing with you recently in regard to Lorenzo— and said, "Yes."

He stood up suddenly and walked over to you, "Can I kiss you?"

Nodding, you swallowed the toast, and allowed him to lean in and capture your lips in a soft kiss: a kiss that had your worries melting away, making you feel safe in a way that you never had before.

When he pulled away, he said, "There's something I need to tell you."

You tilted your head in curiosity.

"You might want to sit down for this."

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 05/12/2021 —> 28/12/2021 published; 27/04/2025 edited; 27/04/2025

31 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 3 months ago

Text

the manuscript | lorenzo berkshire x reader

another old draft gone under severe editing

masterlist

"now and then i reread the manuscript, but the story isn't mine anymore."

——————————————

***

"We're ready to order," the tallest of the group said, the café was quiet enough that you could easily hear them.

You smiled, grabbing your notepad and walking over to the table. "What can I get you all?"

"I'll just have a latte please," the one who called you over said.

The second guy then said, "Can I have a hot chocolate? With cream and marshmallows? Thank you."

You scribbled the orders down as the third member of the group told you what he wanted. "What about you, Lorenzo?" he finished with.

Your eyes flickered to the man of whom initially caught your eye. Lorenzo definitely suited him.

"I'll have- uh- a cappuccino please."

"Perfect, is that all?"

***

Your fear of romance still tickled in the back of your mind, but there was nothing wrong with a little observation, you reasoned.

It was when the group was preparing to leave that the tallest — of whom you had heard referred to as Blaise — nudged Lorenzo in your direction.

"Hi, can I have the bill please?" he asked.

You were enraptured with staring at him.

"Hello?" he waved his hand a little, causing you to snap out of your daze.

"Yes, sorry," you gave him the bill, and he pulled cash out of his pocket. He appeared confused as he counted the notes and coins out.

You watched curiously as he counted, secretly wondering if he was bad at maths, but you did not mind the extra time it gave you with him.

"Here, I think this is right."

Accepting the cash, you counted it out and put it in the till, beginning to count the coins, "That's four pounds change."

"Uh, keep it," he said quickly.

"Oh! Thank yo-"

"Can I get your number?" he asked suddenly, causing you to freeze up.

"What?"

"Sorry- um," he said, then muttering to himself, "Theo swore that's how muggles communicate," he then spoke louder again, "Can I get some way to communicate with you?"

"Great, thank you...?"

"Y/N."

"Thank you, Y/N. I'll text you later." He turned to leave, but faced you again when he continued. "I'm Lorenzo, if I haven't already said."

Your internal scream would have caused deafness had it been external.

Meanwhile, outside, Lorenzo asked one question to his friends: "How do I use this number?"

***

Until, one fateful evening, you were sat in your room listening to music when your mother shouted you from downstairs. "Y/N! Someone's called for you!"

Your stomach dropped, but still you went downstairs and nervously took the phone from your mother's hand, murmuring a small, "Hi."

"Hello, it's— uh— Lorenzo. Sorry I took so long to— uh— call(?) you... I had to get a new tele(?)— telephone."

Why did he seem so confused about anything relating to phones? It reminded you of how unsure he was when he asked you for your number— and the word that he used. Muggles.

"That's okay," you said quietly.

"Well, I think you're really cute, so I was wondering if you would like to go on a date?" Lorenzo asked, this time fully confident in what he was saying, giving you whiplash.

Your mother had been watching the conversation, and could faintly hear what Lorenzo was saying. Just as you went to say no, she nudged you, and mouthed 'say yes'. You frowned and shook your head.

"Y/N?" Lorenzo's voice reminded you that you needed to reply.

Your mother glared at you, and reluctantly you said, "Yes... that would be nice," glaring back at your mother as you did so.

Once the details of the date had been arranged, you finally hung up the phone and crossed your arms.

"It's about time you dated again."

"You don't even know if he's the same age as me!"

"I do."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

"I interrogated him before I called you down."

"You what?"

"His name is Lorenzo Berkshire, he is twenty-one years old, and he studies literature. He said he met you at the café."

"Oh my God," you mumbled, mortifyingly embarrassed.

***

Wearing a floor length navy blue dress and a nervous smile, you accepted the flowers and smelled them. "Thank you," you murmured, handing them to your mother who was excitedly stood behind you.

"Have fun!" she said, pushing you out of the door.

"You are stunning," he said.

"You've said already," you replied quietly, "But thank you."

Adam would have said, "Don't get too much food! I can't spend all of my money on you," in a cheap takeaway joint.

Lorenzo said, "Get whatever you want," in a restaurant where each dish was at least thirty pounds.

"Do you struggle with maths?" you asked as politely as you could.

His eyes widened, then he rushed to say, "No— I'm just not used to this currency."

"You've spent a lot of time abroad?"

"Um, kind of," he said slowly, "I'll tell you more about it in the future."

"If you will allow me one," Lorenzo smiled, finally placing the money on the bill plate.

As your mother's words echoed in your head, and the happiness that this man brought to you sank in, you finally said, "That would be amazing."

He beamed.

Leaving the restaurant on his arm, you said, "Thank you for dinner."

"It was my pleasure. I can't wait for more dates."

***

"So, we're playing laser tag?" you spoke, looking around at the group of people you now knew to be Blaise, Theo, Mattheo, Draco, and, of course, Lorenzo.

"Yeah," Mattheo smiled, "We're gonna split into teams of three."

"Alright, team, what's the game plan?" Theo asked.

"Divide and conquer," Lorenzo spoke.

You shook your head, "I say strength in numbers. They're all probably gonna split up— we can corner them one at a time and have at it."

"I agree with that plan," Theo said, "Majority wins— sorry, Enzo."

"Beginning game in five... four... three... two... one."

"Definitely meant to be a distraction," you whispered, "Stay down here, I reckon the other two are waitin' on us."

"Yes, cap'n," Theo said, rounding a corner.

It wasn't long before shooting sounds broke out when they came face to face with both Draco and Blaise.

"One." The announcer finished the countdown.

***

"Okay, Y/N, you're really fucking good at laser tag," Mattheo said, as you all sipped at milkshakes in a 50s themed diner nearby.

"Yeah, did you grow up at a laser tag place or what?" Theo added.

You smiled at them all, "No, I've only played it a couple of times. Doesn't seem like you guys had ever played before." You could feel the way that Lorenzo was staring at you.

"No, we haven't," Mattheo shrugged.

You were about to open your mouth to say something else when your pager began buzzing, so you apologised and left to ask the staff to use their telephone. They agreed, and you picked up.

"Y/N, I need you to pick me up, mum's busy." It was your younger sister.

Hanging up the call, you headed back to the group and said, "Sorry, I have to pick up my sister from practice. This has been fun, I'll see you all later, yeah?"

They all said their farewells— Lorenzo even kissed you on the cheek.

***

Later that week, at around 1am, Lorenzo was reading a book when his telephone, that he only ever used to call you, rang.

Hoping it was you, he picked up.

It was, and his heart flipped inside his chest.

"Hi! How was your night? Mine was shit... then I thought about you... and felt better."

You definitely were not sober: he had never heard you be so forward before.

"I can't get you out of my mind. Um, wanna come 'round?" you continued.

"Yes," he said immediately, "I'm on my way."

So, there Lorenzo found himself, sat in the kitchen of your home and watching as you drunkenly made yourself toast. You had informed him that you were home alone that night.

"D'you want some?" you asked lazily.

He shook his head, giving you a smile, "I'm good, thanks."

"Whatever you say, baby," you slurred, jumping when the toaster pinged.

"Did- did you just call me baby?" he flushed bright red, making you laugh at him. What in Salazar's name had happened to the awkward girl he knew?

"Maybe... is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's- uh- cool," he abashedly rubbed the back of his neck, "I liked it."

You hummed, "Good."

"So, pretty boy, what d'you wanna do?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked quickly, making you pause.

He stood up suddenly and walked over to you, "Can I kiss you?"

Nodding, you swallowed the toast, and allowed him to lean in and capture your lips in a soft kiss: a kiss that had your worries melting away, making you feel safe in a way that you never had before.

When he pulled away, he said, "There's something I need to tell you."

You tilted your head in curiosity.

"You might want to sit down for this."

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 05/12/2021 —> 28/12/2021 published; 27/04/2025 edited; 27/04/2025

31 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 3 months ago

Text

the manuscript | lorenzo berkshire x reader

another old draft gone under severe editing

masterlist

"now and then i reread the manuscript, but the story isn't mine anymore."

——————————————

***

"We're ready to order," the tallest of the group said, the café was quiet enough that you could easily hear them.

You smiled, grabbing your notepad and walking over to the table. "What can I get you all?"

"I'll just have a latte please," the one who called you over said.

The second guy then said, "Can I have a hot chocolate? With cream and marshmallows? Thank you."

You scribbled the orders down as the third member of the group told you what he wanted. "What about you, Lorenzo?" he finished with.

Your eyes flickered to the man of whom initially caught your eye. Lorenzo definitely suited him.

"I'll have- uh- a cappuccino please."

"Perfect, is that all?"

***

Your fear of romance still tickled in the back of your mind, but there was nothing wrong with a little observation, you reasoned.

It was when the group was preparing to leave that the tallest — of whom you had heard referred to as Blaise — nudged Lorenzo in your direction.

"Hi, can I have the bill please?" he asked.

You were enraptured with staring at him.

"Hello?" he waved his hand a little, causing you to snap out of your daze.

"Yes, sorry," you gave him the bill, and he pulled cash out of his pocket. He appeared confused as he counted the notes and coins out.

You watched curiously as he counted, secretly wondering if he was bad at maths, but you did not mind the extra time it gave you with him.

"Here, I think this is right."

Accepting the cash, you counted it out and put it in the till, beginning to count the coins, "That's four pounds change."

"Uh, keep it," he said quickly.

"Oh! Thank yo-"

"Can I get your number?" he asked suddenly, causing you to freeze up.

"What?"

"Sorry- um," he said, then muttering to himself, "Theo swore that's how muggles communicate," he then spoke louder again, "Can I get some way to communicate with you?"

"Great, thank you...?"

"Y/N."

"Thank you, Y/N. I'll call you later." He turned to leave, but faced you again when he continued. "I'm Lorenzo, if I haven't already said."

Your internal scream would have caused deafness had it been external.

Meanwhile, outside, Lorenzo asked one question to his friends: "How do I use this number?"

***

Until, one fateful evening, you were sat in your room listening to music when your mother shouted you from downstairs. "Y/N! Someone's called for you!"

Your stomach dropped, but still you went downstairs and nervously took the phone from your mother's hand, murmuring a small, "Hi."

"Hello, it's— uh— Lorenzo. Sorry I took so long to— uh— call(?) you... I had to get a new tele(?)— telephone."

Why did he seem so confused about anything relating to phones? It reminded you of how unsure he was when he asked you for your number— and the word that he used. Muggles.

"That's okay," you said quietly.

"Well, I think you're really cute, so I was wondering if you would like to go on a date?" Lorenzo asked, this time fully confident in what he was saying, giving you whiplash.

Your mother had been watching the conversation, and could faintly hear what Lorenzo was saying. Just as you went to say no, she nudged you, and mouthed 'say yes'. You frowned and shook your head.

"Y/N?" Lorenzo's voice reminded you that you needed to reply.

Your mother glared at you, and reluctantly you said, "Yes... that would be nice," glaring back at your mother as you did so.

Once the details of the date had been arranged, you finally hung up the phone and crossed your arms.

"It's about time you dated again."

"You don't even know if he's the same age as me!"

"I do."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

"I interrogated him before I called you down."

"You what?"

"His name is Lorenzo Berkshire, he is twenty-one years old, and he studies literature. He said he met you at the café."

"Oh my God," you mumbled, mortifyingly embarrassed.

***

Wearing a floor length navy blue dress and a nervous smile, you accepted the flowers and smelled them. "Thank you," you murmured, handing them to your mother who was excitedly stood behind you.

"Have fun!" she said, pushing you out of the door.

"You are stunning," he said.

"You've said already," you replied quietly, "But thank you."

Adam would have said, "Don't get too much food! I can't spend all of my money on you," in a cheap takeaway joint.

Lorenzo said, "Get whatever you want," in a restaurant where each dish was at least thirty pounds.

"Do you struggle with maths?" you asked as politely as you could.

His eyes widened, then he rushed to say, "No— I'm just not used to this currency."

"You've spent a lot of time abroad?"

"Um, kind of," he said slowly, "I'll tell you more about it in the future."

"If you will allow me one," Lorenzo smiled, finally placing the money on the bill plate.

As your mother's words echoed in your head, and the happiness that this man brought to you sank in, you finally said, "That would be amazing."

He beamed.

Leaving the restaurant on his arm, you said, "Thank you for dinner."

"It was my pleasure. I can't wait for more dates."

***

"So, we're playing laser tag?" you spoke, looking around at the group of people you now knew to be Blaise, Theo, Mattheo, Draco, and, of course, Lorenzo.

"Yeah," Mattheo smiled, "We're gonna split into teams of three."

"Alright, team, what's the game plan?" Theo asked.

"Divide and conquer," Lorenzo spoke.

You shook your head, "I say strength in numbers. They're all probably gonna split up— we can corner them one at a time and have at it."

"I agree with that plan," Theo said, "Majority wins— sorry, Enzo."

"Beginning game in five... four... three... two... one."

"Definitely meant to be a distraction," you whispered, "Stay down here, I reckon the other two are waitin' on us."

"Yes, cap'n," Theo said, rounding a corner.

It wasn't long before shooting sounds broke out when they came face to face with both Draco and Blaise.

"One." The announcer finished the countdown.

***

"Okay, Y/N, you're really fucking good at laser tag," Mattheo said, as you all sipped at milkshakes in a 50s themed diner nearby.

"Yeah, did you grow up at a laser tag place or what?" Theo added.

You smiled at them all, "No, I've only played it a couple of times. Doesn't seem like you guys had ever played before." You could feel the way that Lorenzo was staring at you.

"No, we haven't," Mattheo shrugged.

You were about to open your mouth to say something else when your pager began buzzing, so you apologised and left to ask the staff to use their telephone. They agreed, and you picked up.

"Y/N, I need you to pick me up, mum's busy." It was your younger sister.

Hanging up the call, you headed back to the group and said, "Sorry, I have to pick up my sister from practice. This has been fun, I'll see you all later, yeah?"

They all said their farewells— Lorenzo even kissed you on the cheek.

***

Later that week, at around 1am, Lorenzo was reading a book when his telephone, that he only ever used to call you, rang.

Hoping it was you, he picked up.

It was, and his heart flipped inside his chest.

"Hi! How was your night? Mine was shit... then I thought about you... and felt better."

You definitely were not sober: he had never heard you be so forward before.

"I can't get you out of my mind. Um, wanna come 'round?" you continued.

"Yes," he said immediately, "I'm on my way."

So, there Lorenzo found himself, sat in the kitchen of your home and watching as you drunkenly made yourself toast. You had informed him that you were home alone that night.

"D'you want some?" you asked lazily.

He shook his head, giving you a smile, "I'm good, thanks."

"Whatever you say, baby," you slurred, jumping when the toaster pinged.

"Did- did you just call me baby?" he flushed bright red, making you laugh at him. What in Salazar's name had happened to the awkward girl he knew?

"Maybe... is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's- uh- cool," he abashedly rubbed the back of his neck, "I liked it."

You hummed, "Good."

"So, pretty boy, what d'you wanna do?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked quickly, making you pause.

He stood up suddenly and walked over to you, "Can I kiss you?"

Nodding, you swallowed the toast, and allowed him to lean in and capture your lips in a soft kiss: a kiss that had your worries melting away, making you feel safe in a way that you never had before.

When he pulled away, he said, "There's something I need to tell you."

You tilted your head in curiosity.

"You might want to sit down for this."

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 05/12/2021 —> 28/12/2021 published; 27/04/2025 edited; 27/04/2025

31 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 3 months ago

Text

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸

Please consider donating if you can! 🕊️

💬 Just a Small Update, and a Big Thank You

Dear friends, kind hearts, and everyone who has stood with us,

When I first opened my heart to the world and shared our story, I never imagined the amount of love and solidarity we would receive. Thanks to your incredible support, we’ve now reached $12,837—a milestone that brings real light to some very dark days.

From the deepest corners of my heart, thank you.

💔 A Journey of Loss, but Also of Strength

As many of you know, I’ve lost 25 of my loved ones during this devastating war. That grief lives with me every single day. It’s in the silence that once held laughter, in the empty spaces where we once gathered as a family.

But through your help, I’ve also felt something else: hope. And that hope is priceless.

“21/Oct/2023 Before It Reached Us: The Day Our Neighbor’s House Was Destroyed” A quiet moment of fear, filmed just before everything changed.

“22/Oct/2023 The Morning After: Our Family Home in Ruins” This is what was left behind after the bombing of our home.

🌿 What Life Looks Like for Us Now

Despite everything, we’re still here. Still surviving. Still hoping.

But things have only gotten harder.

The war has returned, more brutal than before—and for over a month now, Gaza has been completely sealed off. No food is coming in. No medical supplies. No aid. No trade. No one is allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to enter.

We’re trapped.

🏚 We live with the fear of tomorrow, every single day. Airstrikes, drones, and the uncertainty of what might happen next. 👨‍👩‍👧 Our family is forever changed—we haven’t just lost people; we’ve lost pieces of ourselves. 📉 Basic needs go unmet—even clean water feels like a luxury now. Medicines, if they exist at all, are unreachable.

And yet…

Your support reminds us that we’re not forgotten. It reminds us that someone, somewhere, is still listening. That someone still cares. That we’re not completely alone in this.

Every message. Every share. Every dollar. It tells us: You’re walking this road with us. And that gives us the strength to keep going.

💖 What You Can Do

If you’ve already donated—thank you beyond words. If you can share our story again, it could reach someone who can help.

Even $5 means warmth, comfort, and a chance to breathe a little easier.

✨ Why It All Matters

This isn’t just about reaching a fundraising goal. It’s about surviving war with dignity. It’s about believing in tomorrow. It’s about making sure my daughter grows up knowing that the world did not look away.

Thank you for your kindness, patience, and belief in our humanity. You’ve helped me find my voice—and I will use it to keep hope alive.

🙏 From the Heart: A Quiet Apology

There’s something I need to say—something that’s been on my heart for some time.

When I first began sharing our story, I didn’t know what the right way was. I was scared, grieving, and trying to protect my family in any way I could. I reached out to many people, hoping someone, anyone, would see us. In that process, I now realize I may have overstepped, and I might have made some feel overwhelmed.

If that happened, I am truly sorry.

Please believe me when I say it was never out of disregard or pushiness. It came from a place of fear—fear of being forgotten, fear of not being able to keep my family safe, fear of watching everything I love slip away in silence.

I’m learning as I go. I’ve slowed down. I’m more mindful now, trying to share our journey in a way that feels respectful of the space and hearts of those listening.

If my words ever came at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, I hope you can understand where they came from—and I hope you can forgive me.

Thank you for seeing past my mistakes. Thank you for still being here. It means more than I can ever explain.

Vetted by @gazavetters ( #309 )

With love and endless gratitude, Mosab and family ♥️

#free palestine #palestine #support palestine #gaza strip #gaza genocide #free gaza #gaza #donations #vetted fundraisers

9K notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 3 months ago

Text

robin | george weasley x reader

song; robin [taylor swift] pairing; georgeweasley x gender neutral!selectively-mute!non-gryffindor!reader genre; s2l, f2l, fluff, hurt comfort word count; 2,5k timeline; half-blood prince —> deathly hallows, no-voldemort au warnings; implied childhood trauma (of y/n), swearing, alcohol consumption, implied social anxiety summary; your inability to talk would not stop george from pursuing his interest in you

an old draft of mine that i put under severe editing!

masterlist

"to keep it for you, in sweetness."

————————————————

Angelina Johnson was your childhood friend, as you had become neighbours when your family moved across the United Kingdom. You had been there for her every step of the way as you both grew and explored your magical abilities. She learned sign language for you, and you were endlessly grateful for that. In fact, she was one of the few people who had heard you speak; the moments of which were far and few.

She had never mentioned you in more detail than 'my friend' to her Gryffindor friends, while you remained hidden in your own house, and that was upon your request. But, as Angelina was preparing to take a Summer trip to Italy with said friends a year after finishing Hogwarts, you decided that you wanted to finally see the world she was a part of. Your therapy had led you to finally be confident enough to meet the other people who were so important to her.

"Are you sure that you will be okay with everyone?" Angelina asked you as you prepared to apparate.

You signed to her that you were pretty sure that you would be okay with hanging out with everyone, but not constantly.

"Okay, just let me know whenever you need a break," she replied, "They'll understand."

You nodded a thank you to her, and took her arm.

***

Fred Weasley, Angelina's boyfriend, was there to greet you both with his twin brother as you arrived in the holiday house in Tuscany. When they finished greeting her, they turned to you. "Y/N, right? I remember you from potions," George spoke, surprising you.

They had noticed you?

You nodded shyly.

George smiled at you.

The holiday house that you were staying in was quite large, with enough bedrooms to accommodate everybody: you, Angelina, the twins, Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan.

"Okay, so Alicia and Lee are arriving tomorrow," Fred explained, "Oliver and Katie are upstairs getting first dibs on rooms. We have plans to go to a water park the second the rest get here to experience some muggle fun."

You nodded, giving him a friendly smile, and went to pick a room to settle in.

***

When Alicia and Lee arrived at around eleven o'clock the next day, you couldn't help but peek your head around the corner to prepare yourself for what to expect. Of course, you knew what they looked like, but you hadn't seen them in over a year and were not sure if they had changed much.

Angelina noticed you hiding and formed an expression that clearly asked if you were ready to introduce yourself. Hesitantly, you nodded, and stepped out from around the corner. You knew that your posture was anything but confident, but you made do with any bravery lying around inside of you.

"And you must be Y/N?" Lee said immediately, holding out his hand. You shook it with a nod. "I've heard a lot about you from Angelina! All good, I promise."

You gave a silent chuckle, as you abashedly looked down at your feet.

"It's really nice to meet you," Alicia then said, holding out her hand as well, "Just let us know whenever you need some alone time, okay?" She seemed like a really nice girl.

When you arrived at the large waterpark, you found yourself walking beside George into the reception area. He was talking enthusiastically about his shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and you were doing your best to let him know through body language that you were eagerly listening.

"And we've got that all planned out for the next year, which I'm really looking forward to," he finished, showing off a soft smile, "But, sorry, I've been talking too much..."

You shook your head, and then gave him a thumbs up. You hoped that he took that as a "no, I really enjoyed listening". Then you began scrambling around your head for a way to tell him that you loved his products, then remembering that you had one of their prank sweets in your pocket. You pulled it out and showed it to him with a grin.

"Oh, you like our stuff?"

You bobbed your head happily, and gave another thumbs up to try and communicate that their work was amazing.

"Thank you, that means a lot."

***

"Alright, guys and girls," Fred began, with a mischievous grin on his face. "There's only one thing to do in such a huge water park."

"Manhunt," George said.

"Manhunt." Fred repeated.

"So do we separate into teams or...?" Alicia asked.

Fred cut in, "Lee's the hunter, everybody run!"

The group split into different directions, not remotely acting like the adults you supposedly were, as Lee yelled in complaint after you all but still started to count. He appeared to take it in good faith.

You began climbing the steps to a long and complex slide: by the time you reached the top you were pretty tired, but you powered through and joined the thankfully short queue to the slide. Lee should be finishing counting now, meaning that you would buy plenty of time while in the slide.

For some time, you continued like this, choosing the longest slides and praying that Lee was not at the bottom when you exited. It worked successfully, until you finished a slide and splashed into its small closed off pool. As you swam towards the exit, you heard a familiar voice outside.

"Come on, Y/N, I know you went up this way," Lee said, "You're one of the last few, you know."

You peeked out from the exit, and that was your fatal mistake, as Lee was right outside and his eyes immediately locked on to mine. In an instant, your limbs sprung to life and you leaped out into a sprint away from him.

"George! Get them!" he yelled.

Next thing you knew, George jumped out from behind an ice cream stand and wrapped his arms around you, "You have been captured!" he laughed.

"Now, c'mon," Lee said, "We've just gotta find Oliver."

Your back was still pressed against George's chest, which you were grateful for both because it felt nice and because it meant he could not see your flustered expression. The moment was over as quickly as it came, though, as you both began following Lee on his mission.

You reached a crowded pool, but Lee quickly moved past it. You stayed back a little longer; long enough to see a familiar face pop up from the water in the middle. Not knowing what to do, you ran to catch up with George and tugged on his arm. All you could do was dramatically point in the direction of the pool.

"Oliver is in there?" he said quietly.

You nodded.

He grinned, "Come on," and grabbed your wrist.

Just by looking at each other, you and George communicated what you were going to do.

You slipped into the pool, swimming under the water between people's legs until you spotted the recognisable pair of trunks that Oliver was sporting. Underwater, you and George exchanged a look, and took a leg each— tugging until you heard a yelp above water.

"Got you!" George laughed as the two of you emerged from the depths.

"Fuck off," Oliver grumbled as Lee appeared by the edge of the pool, clearly wondering where you and George had went.

"Who found him?" he asked when the three of you reached the edge of the pool.

George pointed to you.

"Ah, well done," he said, "Let's go tell the others." Oliver got out of the pool and followed Lee, swiftly followed by George. At the sight of you struggling to climb into out, he held out his hand and helped pull you.

"Thanks." you said— your eyes immediately widened.

It was rare, but sometimes you would say short phrases like that even around people you hardly knew. You looked up at George, to see that his eyes were wide too.

He soon cracked a smile, though, "Your voice is really pretty."

Your lips stretched upwards at that.

"Now, come on, we don't wanna miss the next game!"

***

The next evening you were sat cross-legged on the floor opposite George, the setting being his bedroom in the rented house. You were not sure how you had ended up like this, but all of the girls had drunk a bit and you had gained the confidence to go into his room and socialise with him. He was telling you funny stories from his childhood, meanwhile your jaw hurt from laughing so much.

When he finished his last one, the noise of the room reduced to silence. He wasn't looking at you, but off into the distance clearly in thought. With his naturally cheeky expression, it was hard for you to tell what he was thinking. You sighed internally, thinking that it must be tiring to have to do all the talking.

It took almost every fibre in your body to mumble, "Sorry," and you felt a little shaky afterwards.

"What are you sorry for?"

You searched around for some parchment and a quill: instead finding the muggle paper and pen. Quickly, you wrote down, "Sorry that you have to do all the talking."

"Oh, I don't mind," he beamed, "Don't ever feel bad for not being able to talk, I quite enjoy your company."

You wrote again, "A lot of people find it tiring, I just wanna live a normal life."

"No one's life is normal, though, is it? We all have things that make us wish our life was normal, but what even is normal?"

With a sigh, you bravely wrote down an insecurity of yours, "I guess... not feeling like you won't find love because you can't communicate properly with 99% of people."

George gave you a pitiful look, "Sign language really be mandatory in school."

You nodded solemnly.

"I'll try and start learning it for when we see you next time."

Shaking your head, you expressed that he didn't have to do that.

"No, no, I do! I want to get to know you better."

You frowned a "why?".

"Well, because I like you."

In that moment; you would never know if he meant that platonically or romantically.

***

Two months later, and you had decided to move to Diagon Alley. It was a nerve wracking decision, but you felt as if it was the sort of push you needed to get yourself somewhere. You knew that money would be a slight problem, though. You were not from a rich family; sure, you had been working since you finished Hogwarts, but with most of the income going towards bills, you had not been able to save much.

George had kindly offered to help you move and also house you while you found a place to stay and a job, the offer of which you had rejected multiple times but he had insisted upon. You had been in touch over letter during the months apart, and you knew that your feelings for him had grown to something more than friendly.

"You can take my bed and I'll take the sofa bed," he said. Instantly you shook your head. "No, no, I insist! Only the best for a guest."

You gave him a skeptical look and he laughed.

"No buts, you get my bed."

***

Getting a job was difficult, everyone knew that, but being unable to talk the vast majority of the time meant it was even harder. The funds that you had saved for the starting weeks were gradually diminishing, and you were reaching a breaking point. So, you suppose that was how you found yourself at a local pub while George was at his shop, writing down your alcohol orders to the gratefully understanding bartender.

The level of influence that you were under was reaching a dangerous level. It reached a point where the bartender told you that you couldn't have anymore alcohol, so you sighed and got up to leave. You stumbled towards the exit and out on to the street.

"Y/N?" George said from across the street, locking up Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes behind him. He quickly noticed your drunken state and hurried over to you. "C'mon, we're going home," he said, giving you support to steady your gait.

The walk home was in complete silence, but when you reached his flat and he had sat you down in his living room, you burst into tears.

"Hey, hey," he said, pulling you into his arms, "It's okay, it's okay."

You shook your head.

"What were you drinking for?"

Giving him a disdained look, you pulled back from his chest and signed to him as simply as you could. He could understand a lot of sign language by that point, but he still took a few seconds to comprehend.

"Hey, you're not useless, you're far from it," he said.

You signed again.

"Maybe it would be easier if you could talk, but if you could talk you may not have become the person we all love today."

You leaned forward and began to sob into his chest once more, managing to choke out one word. "Money."

"Hey, don't worry about money, okay? I can help you for as long as you need."

You hated being so dependent on someone.

"Look, let's get you to bed, and we can talk about this tomorrow when you're sober."

Nodding, you let him guide you to the bedroom and pull out some pyjamas for you. You back-flopped on to the bed the second you entered, as the alcohol was finally taking its complete hold on you. Another sigh escaped George's mouth when he looked at you, and asked, "D'you want me to help change you?"

You bobbed my head, lifting up your arms so he could get the dress off of you. George pulled a shirt over your head and you- with difficulty- unclipped your bra and pulled it out from underneath as he pulled some shorts up your legs. He then helped pull you up properly on to the bed and tucked you in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. As he turned to leave, you grabbed his sleeve, murmuring a gentle, "Stay."

Unbeknownst to you as your eyes were glued shut, George smiled, and changed into his own pyjamas before climbing in next to you. You cuddled up to his side, allowing his warmth to encompass your body and soothe your mind.

"Love you," you mumbled.

"I- I love you too."

At that moment George couldn't help but wonder if you would remember the exchange the next day.

You did.

————————————————

masterlist

written; 30/08/2021 —> 07/09/2021 published; 07/04/2025 edited; 07/04/2025

#george weasley #harry potter #oneshot #fanfic #harry potter onehot #george weasley oneshot

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dreamcubed · 3 months ago

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robin | george weasley x reader

song; robin [taylor swift] pairing; georgeweasley x fem!selectively-mute!non-gryffindor!reader genre; s2l, f2l, fluff, hurt comfort word count; 2,5k timeline; half-blood prince —> deathly hallows, no-voldemort au warnings; implied childhood trauma (of y/n), swearing, alcohol consumption, implied social anxiety summary; your inability to talk would not stop george from pursuing his interest in you

an old draft of mine that i put under severe editing!

masterlist

"to keep it for you, in sweetness."

————————————————

"Are you sure that you will be okay with everyone?" Angelina asked you as you prepared to apparate.

You signed to her that you were pretty sure that you would be okay with hanging out with everyone, but not constantly.

"Okay, just let me know whenever you need a break," she replied, "They'll understand."

You nodded a thank you to her, and took her arm.

***

They had noticed you?

You nodded shyly.

George smiled at you.

The holiday house that you were staying in was quite large, with enough bedrooms to accommodate everybody: you, Angelina, the twins, Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan.

You nodded, giving him a friendly smile, and went to pick a room to settle in.

***

"And you must be Y/N?" Lee said immediately, holding out his hand. You shook it with a nod. "I've heard a lot about you from Angelina! All good, I promise."

You gave a silent chuckle, as you abashedly looked down at your feet.

"It's really nice to meet you," Alicia then said, holding out her hand as well, "Just let us know whenever you need some alone time, okay?" She seemed like a really nice girl.

"And we've got that all planned out for the next year, which I'm really looking forward to," he finished, showing off a soft smile, "But, sorry, I've been talking too much..."

"Oh, you like our stuff?"

You bobbed your head happily, and gave another thumbs up to try and communicate that their work was amazing.

"Thank you, that means a lot."

***

"Alright, guys and girls," Fred began, with a mischievous grin on his face. "There's only one thing to do in such a huge water park."

"Manhunt," George said.

"Manhunt." Fred repeated.

"So do we separate into teams or...?" Alicia asked.

Fred cut in, "Lee's the hunter, everybody run!"

"Come on, Y/N, I know you went up this way," Lee said, "You're one of the last few, you know."

You peeked out from the exit, and that was your fatal mistake, as Lee was right outside and his eyes immediately locked on to yours. In an instant, your limbs sprung to life and you leaped out into a sprint away from him.

"George! Get them!" he yelled.

Next thing you knew, George jumped out from behind an ice cream stand and wrapped his arms around you, "You have been captured!" he laughed.

"Now, c'mon," Lee said, "We've just gotta find Oliver."

"Oliver is in there?" he said quietly.

You nodded.

He grinned, "Come on," and grabbed your wrist.

Just by looking at each other, you and George communicated what you were going to do.

"Got you!" George laughed as the two of you emerged from the depths.

"Fuck off," Oliver grumbled as Lee appeared by the edge of the pool, clearly wondering where you and George had went.

"Who found him?" he asked when the three of you reached the edge of the pool.

George pointed to you.

"Thanks." you said— your eyes immediately widened.

It was rare, but sometimes you would say short phrases like that even around people you hardly knew. You looked up at George, to see that his eyes were wide too.

He soon cracked a smile, though, "Your voice is really pretty."

Your lips stretched upwards at that.

"Now, come on, we don't wanna miss the next game!"

***

It took almost every fibre in your body to mumble, "Sorry," and you felt a little shaky afterwards.

"What are you sorry for?"

You searched around for some parchment and a quill: instead finding the muggle paper and pen. Quickly, you wrote down, "Sorry that you have to do all the talking."

"Oh, I don't mind," he beamed, "Don't ever feel bad for not being able to talk, I quite enjoy your company."

You wrote again, "A lot of people find it tiring, I just wanna live a normal life."

"No one's life is normal, though, is it? We all have things that make us wish our life was normal, but what even is normal?"

With a sigh, you bravely wrote down an insecurity of yours, "I guess... not feeling like you won't find love because you can't communicate properly with 99% of people."

George gave you a pitiful look, "Sign language should really be mandatory in school."

You nodded solemnly.

"I'll try and start learning it for when we see you next time."

Shaking your head, you expressed that he didn't have to do that.

"No, no, I do! I want to get to know you better."

You frowned a "why?".

"Well, because I like you."

In that moment; you would never know if he meant that platonically or romantically.

***

"You can take my bed and I'll take the sofa bed," he said. Instantly you shook your head. "No, no, I insist! Only the best for a guest."

You gave him a skeptical look and he laughed.

"No buts, you get my bed."

***

The walk home was in complete silence, but when you reached his flat and he had sat you down in his living room, you burst into tears.

"Hey, hey," he said, pulling you into his arms, "It's okay, it's okay."

You shook your head.

"What were you drinking for?"

"Hey, you're not useless, you're far from it," he said.

You signed again.

"Maybe it would be easier if you could talk, but if you could talk you may not have become the person we all love today."

You leaned forward and began to sob into his chest once more, managing to choke out one word. "Money."

"Hey, don't worry about money, okay? I can help you for as long as you need."

You hated being so dependent on someone.

"Look, let's get you to bed, and we can talk about this tomorrow when you're sober."

You bobbed your head, lifting up your arms so he could get the dress off of you. George pulled a shirt over your head and you- with difficulty- unclipped your bra and pulled it out from underneath as he pulled some shorts up your legs. He then helped pull you up properly on to the bed and tucked you in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. As he turned to leave, you grabbed his sleeve, murmuring a gentle, "Stay."

"Love you," you mumbled.

"I- I love you too."

At that moment George couldn't help but wonder if you would remember the exchange the next day.

You did.

————————————————

masterlist

written; 30/08/2021 —> 07/09/2021 published; 07/04/2025 edited; 07/04/2025

36 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 3 months ago

Text

thank you so much!!! this is so sweet!!!!!!

slowly accepting that this oneshot is my magnum opus

forever grateful for the love and support 🥹❤️

king of my heart | mattheo riddle x reader

song; king of my heart [taylor swift] pairing; duke!mattheo riddle x baron’s daughter!fem!bookworm!reader genre; arranged marriage, fluff, angst, hurt comfort, s2l word count; 11,2k timeline; bridgerton au warnings; minor character death, talk of death, minor character terminal illness, minor character severe injury (involving blood), abusive parents (verbal, neglect, vaguely implied physical), patriarchal gender roles, misogyny, implied ptsd, trauma-related nightmares (nothing graphic), verbal conflict summary; your refusal of marriage led your father to relinquish permission for you to choose your own husband, allowing him to make the decision himself and ensure the most status and wealth possible. the problem? the man he chose for you was closed off and arrogant

this is my longest oneshot yet so buckle yourself up!

masterlist

“i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone.”

————————————————

Your father hadn’t been pleased with you the last couple of years, as you had refused to attend the many balls of the engagement season. Marriage was not within your interests, no, your interests were with the shelves upon shelves of books in your family estate’s library.

Of course, that did not matter to Baron D/N, as in his mind a daughter should only be at home until she is of marrying age, at which point she moves to her husband’s estate. You despised the patriarchal traditions of your society, but because of those very same traditions, you could do little to change the matter.

“Y/N,” he spoke to you at dinner one night, sat far away from you on the industrial-sized table, “Due to your refusal to find a husband, I have had no choice but to find one for you.”

Your eyes snapped up to him in shock, and you felt the anger in your fingers as they clutched your cutlery tightly.

Keep reading

#dreamcubed #magnum opus

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dreamcubed · 4 months ago

Text

writing is hard but coming up with a cunty title and catchy summary will slay even god's strongest soldier

39K notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 4 months ago

Text

paper rings | fred weasley x reader

song; paper rings [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x fem!rich!pureblood!reader genre; forbidden love, s2l word count; 4k timeline; goblet of fire —> order of the phoenix warnings; swearing, strict parents, fake friends, references to severe injury, slight discrimination of muggle-borns summary; you and fred were from different worlds, and in your family's eyes never should have crossed paths— but after a surprising interaction, an off-script story unfolds

this is the penultimate piece of the lover anthology!!

masterlist

"i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings."

———————————————————

One of the many luxuries that your family's status and wealth could provide was coveted seats at the Quidditch World Cup when it took place in England. And, after indulging in the enthusiasm of the crowd and countless souvenirs, you made your way back to your spacious tent with your parents feeling rather giddy. You were camping— although, with the quality and amenities of your set-up, it was more like glamping— in a more expensive and less crowded section, along with other wealthy families. So, as you settled into your double bed, you were confused at the sense of unease rippling inside of you. Still, you brushed it aside as adrenaline from the match, and finally cosied into a somewhat restless sleep.

When you woke up to the sound of screams and explosions, you realised that your instincts had been spot on, and shot out of bed to find your parents. They were hurrying out of their separate rooms just as you did, and your father quickly moved to peek out the door.

His face quickly paled, "Death eaters," he said hoarsely, and your mother gasped.

While your parents would probably never allow you to marry a muggle-born, it was not to say they didn't consider them as true witches and wizards. They were completely against You-Know-Who and his disciples— they simply didn't want their centuries-old bloodline tainted. In itself, it was still questionable, but you knew that you were lucky compared to other status households.

"Y/N, grab your wand," your father ordered, "We have to leave."

Your mother interjected, "We're pure bloods, they won't—"

"It's dark outside, they won't stop and assess who each person is," your father snapped back, moving to fetch his own wand, "Besides, they're starting fires. Wands, now."

You did as your father said, and pulled your shoes on in the process, readying to leave.

"Head towards the stadium— they're coming from the campsite entrance. Stay with us, Y/N."

The three of you left the tent and began the sprint towards the woods, your parents frequently using shielding charms as stray spells were flying all over the place. Soon, you were more protected within a crowd, but it became difficult to stay close to your parents as panicked people surrounded on all sides. As you broke the threshold of the trees, you were separated from them, and in frenzied fear you found yourself getting knocked over and rolled over the ground. Some people trampled over you, until a silhouette stopped above you and held out its hand.

"Come on, quick," you heard him say, and you took his hand and let him pull you up, stumbling to begin running alongside him.

"Thank you," you gasped out, as your legs moved as quickly as they could, now aware that it was one of the Weasley twins, from the year above.

"Don't mention it," he yelled back, slowing down slightly to match your pace.

You felt bad, and hurriedly said, "You don't have to stay with me."

"No, I don't." But he did.

Whichever Weasley twin it was seemed to somehow rejoin with his siblings, pulling you along with him. Your ears were ringing so much that you didn't see when Harry Potter and his two friends, one of them being a Weasley, disappeared, instead blindly following the twins and the only Weasley girl. That was when a horrifying yet grand formation of the Dark Mark appeared in the sky above you, making you grip the arm of the twin who had saved you. In spite of how terrifying such a symbol was, it seemed to have a positive effect, as the screaming stopped and spells were no longer being thrown around.

"They're retreating!" someone yelled, and relief washed over you.

"We should head back to the tent," the other twin said, then remembered you were there, "Where's yours?"

"Uh, in the— I'm in purple camping," you felt embarrassed to admit that you were in the wealthy campsite, especially in front of the Weasleys, who were well-known for being incredibly poor.

None of them commented, however, and the same twin continued, "Fred, you take her back there, I'll take Ginny back to ours."

Fred Weasley was the one who saved you.

***

When you arrived back at your tent, you didn't hesitate to call for your parents, "Mother? Father?" you shouted, but heard no response. Your tent was heavily fire-damaged on the outside, but perfectly fine on the inside— yet there was no sight of them. Anxiety began to rise within you again.

"I'm sure they're okay," Fred rushed to assure you, "They just haven't got back yet. I'll wait with you."

You nodded, and sat down next to him.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Y/N," you said quietly, "Y/N L/N."

You saw his eyes widen at your last name, but he said nothing, "'M Fred— Weasley, but you probably guessed that."

A small chuckle emerged from you, "I know who you are."

"You go Hogwarts?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, I suppose we're quite famous there, me and George."

You agreed.

The minutes ticked by, and you were becoming increasingly worried.

"Look," Fred said, "My family will be getting worried about me, so I need to head back. You can come with, of course— maybe leave a note or something?"

With panicked breaths, you stood up and muttered a charm that displayed words in the air in front of your tent.

'Mother, Father— I'm safe. I am in the main campsite with the Weasleys.'

And with that, you followed Fred to where the majority of the tents were, and watched as what appeared to be his elder brothers hugged him.

"George told us where you were, but you took a long time," one of them said, as they all noticed you, "Your parents weren't there?"

You shook your head, "I left a note saying where I'd be."

He nodded, "'M Charlie, this is Bill— we're the oldest Weasleys."

"Y/N," you replied with a forced small smile.

"Any idea where the others are?" Bill asked.

Fred shook his head, "Haven't seen 'em since we were with George and Ginny."

"Shit."

Thankfully, only a few minutes later, Harry Potter and his friends returned with the Weasleys' father, who was sporting a grim expression. A discussion concerning death eaters and the Dark Mark ensued, somehow involving a house elf, but all you could do was sit there quietly. It wasn't until the conversation finished that the new arrivals noticed you. "Who's this?"

"Y/N. Y/N L/N," Fred said, "Found her in the woods."

"Where are your parents?" Mr Weasley asked.

You shrugged, "I have no idea."

The man's eyebrows furrowed, "Rich pure bloods missing," he said slowly, "Peculiar." His suspicion of you was evident.

"They're not death eaters," you said quickly, "I've— I've seen their bare arms a countless number of times."

"She's right," Bill said, "The L/N family don't exclusively wear long-sleeves like all the families who were suspected of it."

Mr Weasley seemed to ease up at that, "Sorry, just being cautious, I'm sure they're here somewhere."

***

As it turned out, when your parents had been separated from you, they had gone back to look, and gotten severely injured in the process. They had both been admitted to St Mungo's, where they wouldn't be able to leave for a few weeks. You were grateful that they were alive and seemingly mentally sound, but your large house felt even emptier than before without them.

To pass the time, you wrote a letter to Fred, thanking him profusely for saving you from being trampled to death, and informing him of your parents' situation. You handed it to your owl after pressing your family's wax seal on the envelope, before heading to the household library.

You never told your parents what happened to you that night, mainly because they hardly gave you a chance to speak as they fussed over the fact you were alive and unharmed. It was strange, how this was a secret that you kept all to yourself, at least from the people in your social circle. Complete strangers knew where you were when the death eaters attacked, but your closest friends and family didn't. Not that anyone asked— your friends knew that you went to the quidditch game, and they would have heard about what happened, but not a single one had reached out to check on you.

***

The first bit of post you received was not from friends, but from Fred Weasley, in reply to your letter. He told you that any decent person would have done the same, and that you probably would have been fine without him. He also said that he looked forward to seeing you when school restarted, before asking how your parents were. So, for the first time since they had been hospitalised, you told someone of their injuries, and how long their recovery would be. You briefly alluded to how alone you were in your house, and how he was the first person to ask about you.

Your correspondence continued right up until you boarded the train to Hogwarts, walking down until you found your friends. As you entered the compartment of your fellow Ravenclaw girls, they gave you scornful looks.

"What?" you said instinctively, confused and hurt by their reactions.

"Go away, death eater," Janice, the girl you would have considered your best friend, spat.

You furrowed your brows, "What are you talking about?"

"Your family were at the Quidditch World Cup and haven't been seen since the attack," another of your friends stated accusingly, "It's pretty fucking obvious that they're in hiding."

"No, we're not— they're not— they're in the—"

"Save it," Janice cut you off, standing up and walking towards you, making you back up out of the compartment. "We aren't friends with death eaters."

"My parents are in—" but Janice had slammed the door shut and locked it, glaring at you through the glass as she sat down.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and as a result you made no further effort to talk to them, instead continuing down the corridor in hopes of finding the one person who you knew wouldn't turn you away. It wasn't long before you found him in a compartment with his twin brother and Lee Jordan, known for his quidditch commentary. You gently tapped on the glass, making them turn their heads.

As you waved, attempting to swallow your sobs, Fred quickly slid the door open and smiled at you.

"Y/N! Good to see you," he beamed, only to notice your quivering lip, "Are you okay?"

You nodded with a sniff, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, take a seat," he moved aside to allow you entry, resuming his sitting position.

You gently lowered yourself, playing with your hands nervously. The three boys were watching you carefully.

"What happened?" Fred asked carefully.

"My friends- uh- they accused me of being a death eater."

"What the fuck? Why?"

You met his eyes slowly, "Because my parents haven't been seen since the attack."

"But they're in hospital?" George spoke up, relaying information that Fred had evidently told him.

"I tried to tell them that."

"That's fucked up, man, they're not good friends," Lee said.

"Well, we know you're not a death eater," Fred moved to sit next to you, "You can hang out with us. Right, guys?"

His brother and friend immediately nodded.

"I mean, c'mon, you were with us that night and just as scared as we were," he continued, "Even if your parents were, that wouldn't necessarily mean you are."

"Yeah, try telling that to them," you muttered bitterly.

"I would, but I don't think it's worth it."

"Yeah, if they were your real friends, they would've given you a chance to explain," George added.

"You think?"

"One hundred percent," Lee said, "They had no solid proof, they just made assumptions."

You couldn't help but smile at their instant support of you, which was exactly when the train's whistle went off, signalling departure. The three boys quickly settled into a conversation of upcoming pranks and creations, surprising you with their incredible ideas: they were a lot smarter than they let on.

"Oh, by the way, this shit is top secret, yeah?" Fred said to you, "Don't tell a soul."

"My lips are sealed," you replied, just as the trolley lady appeared outside the compartment.

"Anything from the trolley, loves?" she asked after sliding the door open.

You nodded, "Three chocolate frogs and jelly beans, please," you requested, and turned to the others, "Do you guys want anything? On me."

"You don't have to do that," Fred replied.

Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a few galleons, "I insist. It's no trouble."

You felt guilty when their eyes widened at the sight of the coins, but less so when they started ordering things.

"So good," George commented as he chewed on a jelly bean.

"Got lucky with the flavour, then?" Lee laughed.

He hummed, "Strawberry."

"Knowing my luck I'll get bogey," Lee sighed, but popped a jelly bean in his mouth anyway, before immediately spitting it out, "I was right," he gagged.

You all erupted in laughter.

***

Not a single soul had expected the announcement that came during the welcome ceremony: the long-banned Triwizard Tournament being re-introduced, and the impending arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Soon, you were sat with Fred and George in the courtyard as they discussed their plans to enter, despite the fact they weren't old enough.

"An ageing potion?" you raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "You truly believe something so simple will get past a barrier that Dumbledore set?"

"Have some faith in us."

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever. Don't come crying to me if it fails."

"Oh, but what if I so desperately need your comfort?" Fred teased, draping his arm over your shoulders.

"Then tough shit, Fred."

"You're mean."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm realistic."

"Just you wait."

***

"So, this is what I was waiting for?" you suppressed a laugh as George and Fred walked towards you with full beards and long hair.

They rolled their eyes in sync, but could not stop the smiles on their faces-- they had never been the type to get embarrassed, and that in itself was refreshing. Fred sat down beside you, and asked, "You have a razor, by any chance?"

Somehow, you found yourself roped into cutting their hair back to its normal length, and then using a charm to turn it back to their iconic ginger roots.

"Thank you, love," Fred muttered at the end, which created a warm feeling in your chest, but you ignored this.

"Is now a good time to say I told you so?" you chuckled, standing before both of them.

"Yeah, yeah, you were right, we were wrong, you're so smart, Y/N."

"I know," you beamed, ignoring the sarcasm.

***

It was hard to miss the scornful glances that your ex-friends threw your way, especially as you still shared a dormitory with them, but it was elating to watch them see you with the Weasleys, and, by consequence, Harry Potter. They were evidently too proud to admit that they were wrong about you, despite such blatant proof of associating with famous anti-Voldemort individuals.

"What lies do you tell them?" Janice scoffed one night as you entered the bedroom.

You chuckled to yourself.

"They'll drop you just like we did when they realise the truth."

With a hum, you replied, "Yeah, the truth that my parents have been in hospital since the Quidditch Cup."

Janice's eyes widened, making you remember that you never quite got around to telling her such a vital piece of information: you had been so busy with the Weasley twins that you hardly thought about her anymore.

Still, she doubled down, spitting, "What a convincing lie."

"Go to St Mungo's and check for yourself, Jan," you shrugged.

"Maybe I will."

"Do what you want."

***

On a fateful and agonising Wednesday after the Yule Ball had been announced, you realised that you very much wanted Fred to ask you-- in fact, you genuinely feared that you might die if he did not, and went with someone else. You felt hints of jealousy towards Angelina Johnson, who had been nothing but lovely to you, but was quite close with the twins.

As if to spite you, the universe then sent a Hufflepuff boy asking out a Slytherin girl before you, the latter saying 'yes' very eagerly. The thing was, you should not want Fred to take you to the Yule Ball-- while your parents would have no problem with you befriending someone working class, they would never allow you to date, let alone marry one. Marriage was viewed as a transaction in the pure-blood society: one married to solidify status and continue the blood line. Although, Fred was a pure-blood, so maybe your parents would allow it?

You shook your head-- you were being delusionally hopeful, besides, Fred had done very little to indicate romantic affection towards you. All of these thoughts were moot points.

It was when you were sat on the Gryffindor table with Fred and George, that such a mindset changed: the twins were bickering with their brother, Ron, when the topic of insult turned to Yule Ball dates.

"Well, where's your date then?" Ron said bitterly to Fred.

Your crush rolled his eyes before turning to you, "Y/N, you, me - Yule Ball?" He made a motion of ballroom dancing as he asked, making a situation where all you could feel inside was butterflies comedic.

"Al- Alright, then," you replied as calmly as you could.

Fred then winked at Ron, who rolled his eyes.

You felt ecstatic happiness for the next hour, until it dawned on you that Fred may have only asked you to prove a point to his brother, and you happened to be the convenient option. That was a painful perspective, that you were simply convenient-- a space-filler until he found the right person.

What did it matter anyway? Your parents would never approve.

***

Admiring the baby blue ballroom gown that had been personally crafted for you upon the notification that ballroom attire would be required at the end of Summer, you could not help but feel pretty. You had spent ages on your hair and make-up, and even taught yourself how to walk in high heels, all for this fateful night. All, shamefully, in the hope that Fred would compliment you.

So, when you emerged from the Ravenclaw tower, to find Fred waiting patiently outside for you, your nerves spiked to dangerous levels. A lump grew in your throat as you approached him, unable to even force a small smile.

He whistled, "Well, love, you are a stunner."

Only then did a smile crack through your anxious visage. "You're not so bad yourself, Weasley," you said quietly, grateful that your foundation covered your blushing.

"Shall we?" he presented his arm to you.

"We shall."

From dancing with Fred to stuffing your face with the buffet, from laughing with your arms around his neck to watching George dance with Angelina-- it was, by all definitions, a perfect night. Never had you felt more alive, more care-free, which could only explain why when Fred went to kiss you as you ran from the Great Hall with your heels in your hand, you kissed him back without reservation. Without a single thought for your parents' approval. Without a care towards what was expected of you.

As he pulled away, he said, "Your parents probably wouldn't approve."

Quickly, you placed a finger over his lips, "To that, Fred, I say fuck it."

***

The Christmas holidays arrived, and your parents were still in St Mungo's, so you spent Christmas Day at the hospital with them, chatting amicably. As much as part of you wanted to keep your secret, you knew that you had to tell them-- not for their sake, but out of respect for Fred, and the fact you were not ashamed to be with him.

"Mother, Father-- how would..." you took a deep breath, "How would you feel if I married someone poor, even if he was of pure blood?"

They both went silent, your mother's lips even pursing, "We would not be... pleased."

"You know what marriage means for families like ours," your father added, "It is not a decision we make based on feelings."

You exhaled slowly, "Well, I do not think power and status is more important than happiness."

"You are young and naïve. You don't know what to think," your mother said calmly.

"I know that you both aren't happy."

"Watch your mouth," your father said harshly, "You don't even know what happiness is."

"I know it's not only seeing your spouse at the dinner table," you snapped back, surprised that you were standing up for yourself.

You observed your mother's eye twitch, "It sounds a lot to me like you are seeing an impoverished young man."

"Maybe I am."

"You will cease such relations immediately," she replied, "Our family's reputation is at stake if you are seen frolicking around with a respectless house."

Angrily, you stood up, "I see that reputation is more important to you than your own daughter." And, with that, you stormed out of the room.

***

After that Christmas, you stopped sending letters to your parents, and delved even deeper into your relationship with Fred.

"Am I really worth losing your relationship with your parents?" he asked one Summer afternoon as you lounged by the lake.

"Yes," you said without thinking.

"I just don't want to be a cause for regret for you."

"Even without you in the equation, I would still be angry about the principle," you sighed, "Their values are not in the right places."

He hummed, "I don't want to hold you back."

"Fred, everything in my life has been dictated for me-- which classes I took, what I could wear, who I could consider dating-- this is the first time I have made a decision for myself. Don't try and take that away from me like they did."

Wrapping his arm around you, Fred smiled, "You're right, I'm sorry. I just care about your wellbeing."

***

ONE YEAR LATER.

***

"Will you come with us?" Fred asked you, after explaining his and George's grand exit from Hogwarts during exam season, "It's completely up to you, of course, don't feel pressured."

"My parents will hate me even more."

"So?"

"Rowena knows I'll probably be expelled."

"You don't have to."

"Yet, for some reason, every bone in my body is screaming for me to go."

Fred smiled, "You will?"

"Fred, I would go to the end of the earth if it meant being with you."

"Is that a yes?"

You grinned from ear to ear, "Of course it is, silly."

"Okay, okay, great-- because this leads into my next question."

"Oh?"

Shock coursed through your veins as Fred kneeled down before you, delicately taking and kissing your hand, "Y/N, I know your parents disapprove, I know we're only young, I know I can't afford a ring-- and I know this is a stupid decision, but nothing makes me happier than making a stupid decision with you."

You gasped.

"Let's get married, let's elope, even."

"Oh, Fred," you said softly, "Nothing makes me happier than making stupid decisions with you, too."

"So, will you marry me?"

You laughed, leaning down to whisper into his ear, "Fuck it."

***

Dearest Mother and Father,

You will be disappointed to know that I just married an impoverished man.

Kind regards,

Y/N Weasley

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written; 03/01/2025 —> 22/03/2025 published; 22/03/2025 edited; —/—/——

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