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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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the process of detonation (g.w. x f!mc)

summary: Garreth has a bit of a crisis when the reality of growing up starts to hit hard. While trying to overcome self-doubt and bottle up the explosion waiting to happen, she’s there to show him that there’s nothing wrong with a little chaos.

tags: allusions to adhd, alcohol use, seventh year, awkwardness and fluff, literal fireworks, too many food metaphors?, friends to lovers, gryffindor!reader, garreth is an ace at pining, beater!Garreth because yes obviously, the “wearing his sweater” trope, seniors and their existential crises, mc only referred to by she/her pronouns

word count: 5.6 k

rating: T

a/n: my entry for @garrethweasleyfest ! the prompt I used was “explosion” (kind of got inspired by explode - mother mother)

Garreth wasn’t all that good at really explaining the inner workings of his mind, but perhaps he could give it a go.

He might be biased, but in a way; he thought people could be compared to potions. They’re messy, complex, and each have their own set of ingredients that make them what they are — and change how they react. Some people have a little extra rose petals to them, some a sprinkle of stardust, and others are just…pure poison.

In Garreth’s case, his brewing tended to say a lot about his own concoction of self.

Of course, for most of his life, he never really considered that there might be something fundamentally wrong with whatever recipe God or whoever had used to create him. It wasn’t until seventh year when he was finally considered a grown wizard that Garreth began to suspect… and to wonder if there was any leaf or powder out there that could be thrown in to stabilize him.

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In Garreth’s defense, he had a lot on his mind that day.

Between his growing stack of homework assignments, early morning Quidditch practices three days a week, and the NEWT study group he’d been strong-armed into joining by Natsai and his Aunt, it was a wonder he had any working brain cells left at all. And that didn’t even count the time he spent on his own, er… creative projects.

So it wasn’t all that surprising that he’d accidentally broken a golden rule of potion-making in his sleepy endeavor at a cure for ague. Not once as his knife rocked against the cutting board did he consider that everybody else was flattening the blades and pressing down instead, and the rest of his friends were too oblivious to, either.

“— But then, he tried to kiss me! No request, no warning, nothing! One second I’m mid-conversation about centaurs’ rights, and the next his tongue is two inches from my face! All of that time wasted when I could have been doing any of the million other; more important things I have going on!”

Oddly enough, hearing about his friend’s failed attempts at courting (which were rather numerous) was the best part of his day so far.

Garreth nodded along politely, offering a vague “mhmm” and “you can’t be serious” at appropriate intervals, gaze flickering between his workstation and the witch in the midst of a passionate rant while turning her ladle idly in her own cauldron. He’d never been good at strictly keeping his eyes on his own work, and it was that much harder with her directly beside him; her vest unbuttoned and cheeks fairy floss pink from the vapors surrounding them.

She gave a resounding huff, dropping the ladle to rest her elbows on the textbook open in front of her. “All that is to say; I’ve come to the conclusion that men are incorrigible.”

“Sounds fairly accurate,” Garreth snorted. He gently nudged her off of the book (they often shared his, as it was filled with helpful notes) to double check a measurement.

Even if some little voice whispered that reasonable was boring and she should keep her — ahem — mind open to other possibilities, he dutifully ignored it.

“Although, we’re not all pigs, you know. Some of us have a spot of…well. Class, I suppose.” He grumbled.

“I hope you’re not referring to yourself,” her laughter rang out like the peal of a bell. “You’re a lot of things, Garreth, but you’re not exactly the epitome of a gentleman.”

His face pinched, and again she chuckled, which was a small consolation.

It stung because it was true. Garreth wasn’t exactly a rake by most standards, but he flirted with too many witches and wizards and had snogged half that number besides to be much else. He was a terrible dancer, didn’t have a fortune to inherit (even if he had been the eldest Weasley), and flaunted most rules and regulations.

So, no, he wasn’t winning any awards in Witch Weekly for Bachelor of the Year.

To spite her, he did the gentlemanly thing and conceded, albeit not so gracefully. “I’m only trying to say…you shouldn’t lump us all in with a few bad apples. I certainly wouldn’t have disappointed you like that.”

“How comforting to know. I’m still sticking with my hypothesis, but thanks for trying.”

Well, now he was thinking about how he would kiss her, if given the chance.

(This was purely for scientific reasons, of course.)

Garreth, eager to salvage what remained of his pride, readied another reply as he sprinkled the flakes of dittany into his lightly smoking cauldron. It would have been a good one, too, if not for —

“Garreth!”

There was only a hair of a second between her shouting his name in warning and what was possibly one of his most impressive explosions to date. Even though she lunged for him, she was too late to stop the blast from sending him reeling backwards with a hand over his burning-hot face and a very unbecoming cry of surprise.

Having expected him to be closer, she stumbled in her attempt at pushing him out of the way, and thus they collided like two atoms — tumbling to the stone floor in a jumble of limbs and hissed curses.

“Come on, seriously, Garreth?” Sebastian groaned from an adjacent potions station. He, along with a few others who’d been close to the blast, were coughing and waving away billowing clouds of smoke.

Natty sighed. “That’ll be another ten points from Gryffindor.”

But their protestations fell to the wayside once he was peering up at the sheepish face of his savior; no more than a few inches away. Within kissing distance, even.

Wait. What?

“Fuck. Ow. Sorry,” she groaned, trying to untangle their aching limbs as she lay half-splayed across Garreth’s chest.

It was then that his traitorous mind started paying attention to how warm she was, how bright that ring of pure gold in her eyes was, how infuriatingly good the blend of mallowsweet and smoke clinging to her like a second skin smelled…

Shiiiiittt. Shit, shit, shit.

“No, it’s, uh, it’s my fault. Totally my fault, I wasn’t, er…paying attention,” he panted. The wind had been thoroughly knocked out of him — and it wasn’t just because her elbow had struck him right in the stomach when they’d fallen.

When she managed to sort herself out and hastily climb to her feet, that stinging feeling from before returned, and Garreth didn’t notice the developing bruise on his tailbone one bit.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Oh, er, I think so,” he stood up, legs wobbling like a newborn thestral, and dusted off his robes. “My pride took the biggest blow. Though I suppose I should count myself lucky I had the Hero of Hogwarts to save me.”

He waggled his brows, and her jaw went slack before she was doubled over in a fit of raucous laughter.

“What?! It wasn’t that funny.“

“No, you —“ she can hardly get the words out between breathless giggles. “Garreth, your eyebrows.”

Reaching up, his fingers found the ridge just above his eyes — where, indeed, great chunks of what was once thick ginger hair are missing. “Bollocks. That’s the third time in six months.”

The unfortunate loss of his eyebrows (and dignity) became yesterday’s news when she traversed the newly formed space between them to rub what he assumed was soot off of his nose, still chuckling to herself. He resisted the urge to brush away the wayward hairs sticking to her forehead in kind.

“I’ll give you this — you’re definitely not most men,” she grinned.

It was probably an insult, but all Garreth heard was a ringing endorsement. Against the odds, he cracked a lopsided smile of his own.

Maybe he’d even call it a victory.

Professor Sharp waved his wand, and the thick fumes disappeared, allowing them all a good glimpse of his signature long-suffering scowl.

“Ten points from Gryffindor. Shocking, I know,” the ex-Auror sighed, resigned. “And I expect that cauldron to be replaced within the fortnight.”

Well. A bittersweet victory, to be sure.

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Everything tumbled downhill from there.

In the spirit of further self-reflection, Garreth knew that their unceremonious meeting on the dirty floor of the Potions classroom wasn’t some hit-him-over-the-head moment of recognition — even if most of his revelations came in that form. This one had been creeping up on him since fifth year, like a wily sort of poison; disguised with a sweet scent to throw him off.

But just how massively fucked was he, you may ask?

That became clear one rainy afternoon. Not just any rainy afternoon, mind you, because those were a galleon a dozen during autumn in the Scottish Highlands; but the afternoon of their first Quidditch game of the year against Slytherin.

Which didn’t help the fact that his head was already so not in the game.

It started out well enough, with Gryffindor managing to make several goals in a row that had their swaths of supporters in the stands crowing with pride. Garreth did his best to keep up as he weaved and dodged and looped around the field, trying to focus solely on the hunt for Bludgers. Of course, this required him to pay equally close attention to his teammates lest they fall victim to one of the bloodthirsty balls.

One teammate in particular more than the others, perhaps.

Flying was made all the more difficult by the sheets of icy rain pelting his face. Not even the goggles – with the assistance of an Impervious Charm – were helping him distinguish much more than vague blobs of color streaking through the cloudy sky. This, he justified, was why he started to miss more swings than he made and almost dropped his bat (twice). It wasn’t Garreth’s fault the elements were working against them.

Despite that, they were still forty points up when the conniving snakes switched tactics and started going after Gryffindors’ three female Chasers. Natty was an expert at evasion, and Nellie tended to fly high to avoid them… but not her.

She always had to be in the bloody thick of it, didn’t she?

It might have been annoying, if it wasn’t so damn impressive. Garreth couldn’t help but admire the way she moved; how she’d feint and crack a little smile each time someone fell for the trick. The way her red sweater clung, dripping, from her frame and strands of hair curled around her wet forehead were particularly distracting, too.

For the first time in his career, Garreth found himself wishing he was in the crowd – just so he could watch her.

Sebastian tossed the Quaffle to Imelda over Natty’s head – only for his face to contort with rage when it was snatched from the air between them. Garreth whooped proudly when she took off towards the goal posts. The first Bludger was hot on her tail, but so was he, maneuvering between her and the ball. He spent the next few minutes as her guardian until having to turn tail at the last minute to rescue Lucan.

The next events happened so quickly he couldn’t quite recall much but this: a familiar, feminine cry of alarm from behind him, the brown blur of a Bludger streaking towards him, and the reverberation in his arm when his bat connected with it. There was a thunderous crack, and then another scream.

What he’d meant to do was send it towards any of the three Slytherins trying to overtake her, but instead…

Garreth’s entire world narrowed down to the moment when she just barely managed to duck out of the Bludger’s path. He’d come to a screeching halt on his broom, hovering mere feet away from her with his eyes wide as saucers behind his foggy goggles, something sinking inside him as the Slytherins flew off with the Quaffle. The stadium erupted into cheers for them seconds later.

“What the hell was that?” She panted, her indignant scowl apparent even through the downpour. “You almost took my bloody head off, Garreth!”

“It — it was an accident. And you’re fine, right, so no harm, no foul?” He had to shout to be heard over the spectators and the wind.

“An inch to the left and I wouldn’t have been fine at all! I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to get it together!”

“I just –”

She sped off so fast the resulting wind made him shiver. Either Garreth was simply losing his touch, or there was something seriously wrong with him lately. Cursing to himself, he shook off the chill her anger had left him with and the shame that followed, and threw himself back into the game comforted by the knowledge that he’d be able to get roaring drunk at the after party.

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Drunk might be an understatement, actually.

By the time the party was in full swing, Garreth had already downed more than his share of the sneakily procured liquor (courtesy of yours truly, Sirona’s unrelenting generosity, and several bribes to the house elves in the kitchens). Someone had enchanted a few of the lamps to change color occasionally, throwing red and green and blue lights around Gryffindor’s common room, which teemed with House members in Quidditch jumpers and all other manner of memorabilia. Even little Doge and Dumbledore had emerged briefly to shyly congratulate the team.

Not even the jubilant music pouring from the gramophone or the well-earned laughter of the partygoers could drown out what was going on inside Garreth’s head.

He’d never embarrassed himself so profoundly at a match before. Quidditch, like potion-making, was one of the few areas Garreth excelled in, and he couldn’t even do that right. Ever since school had started up again, he’d been a mess. Exploding cauldrons, racking up more detentions than ever, always saying the wrong thing…

It was seventh year, for Merlin’s sake, and he was a grown wizard now. But while everyone else was coming into themselves, it seemed like he was just coming apart.

So instead of enjoying the victory, Garreth had taken to drowning his sorrows in drink while watching from the sidelines; neck-deep in an early quarter life crisis while slumped in one of the armchairs. Leander found him there eventually, his freckled face a mask of concern as he leaned against the wall beside him.

“What’s with the sour face?” Leander raised a brow. “We just beat Slytherin! I thought you’d be dancing on the tables or something.”

“I’m not really in the dancing mood. Go on, I’ll live vicariously through you.” Garreth grumbled.

“As much as everyone would probably love to see that, I’d rather find out what’s got your wand all knotted up.”

Garreth sighed, raking the hand not currently clutching a glass of Firewhiskey through his still-damp curls. “You saw what happened, Lee. The team’s probably pissed at me for being a massive disappointment, especially…”

He gestured vaguely to the hero of the hour (the hero of every hour of every day as far as he was concerned, and she’d earned the title several times over) across the room. She was talking with Natty, Nellie, and Cressida by the fireplace, her smile brighter than the flames’ glow that lit her from behind. A clawed hand squeezed at his heart.

“Oh, that? That was…I mean, you made a minor miscalculation. Most of them have forgotten already, I reckon.” Leander’s eyes darted to the side — as they always did when he was lying horribly.

“A minor miscalculation that could have led to the untimely death of one of my best friends.”

“You’re being even more dramatic than usual…are you tossed already?”

”I dunno, mum; am I?”

There was a quiet rumble around him, like thunder. At first he thought it was just his stomach informing him of how much he’d indeed had to drink, but then a fat drop of rain landed on his nose.

Leander’s big, dark eyes rolled to the ceiling, and he dragged Garreth onto his slightly unsteady feet with an arm in his. “Alright, you’re being bloody insufferable, and you’ve quite literally got a dark cloud hanging over you. Come on, up you get — go talk to her and apologize.”

“No, Lee, please!” Garreth whined. “I’ve suffered enough humiliation today.”

”Don’t be a coward, you’ll be fine.”

The taller boy weaved through the crowd easily, pulling a stumbling Garreth along beside him until they came face-to-face with the very group of girls he had been avoiding all night. They all went quiet immediately — which was not a good sign.

Garreth scratched the back of his head, glancing between Leander and the witch with the suspicious scowl in front of him, feeling for all the world like he’d never been less of a Gryffindor than in that moment. Surely the alcohol was supposed to help with these things, right?

”Er…would you like to dance?” He blurted.

Well, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all. But having to talk to her at all in his clumsy state seemed even more daunting with all eyes on him, and getting her alone was a simple solution.

“You sure you’ll be able to without tripping over your feet?” Nellie snorted.

“‘M perfectly cohabitated — uh, coordinated, I mean,” Garreth argued.

Natty shook her head, hiding her laughter behind a hand. “Oh, dear.”

His favorite witch turned a familiar shade of pink, and for a moment Garreth feared that she’d laugh in his face, but eventually she sighed and handed her bottle of Butterbeer to Natty.

“If you step on my toes, I’ll jinx you,” she warned, leading him to the center of the room where groups of friends and cozy couples were scattered to dance to the magically amplified music (it was a miracle none of the professors had come to complain about it, really).

“No promises.”

Garreth wrestled with what to do when they got there. Was he supposed to take her hand? Her waist? Or, rather, should he keep it friendly and avoid touching her at all? The latter option seemed much less risky, and yet he found himself longing to feel her hand in his and the heat of her body. He’d been hooked ever since that day in Potions.

Deciding it would be better to keep his distance for now, Garreth went with swaying awkwardly on the spot instead, but she had other ideas — her hand sought out his, and she threw him into a dizzying little turn that evoked both laughter and a slight wave of nausea.

“Oh, are you leading?” He chuckled, suddenly thankful for the ballroom lessons they’d all received the year prior as he mimicked her move, twirling her playfully with ease that surprised even him.

“That might be safer,” she said. “Although you’re not doing half bad so far.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Garreth grinned proudly.

He spent the better part of five minutes praying he wouldn’t step on her toes while simultaneously working up the courage to acknowledge the erupment in the room. And, because the universe didn’t like to make anything easy for him, Garreth had to compete with the little flutters in his stomach that beat their furious wings each time she laughed or squeezed his hand.

Merlin, just pull your wand out of your ass.

“Hey, so, about earlier. You know, during the game… you’re right, I wasn’t…I don’t know where my head’s been lately. I didn’t mean to muck things up.”

His breath held until she shrugged, her easy smile fading into something edged with concern. “Don’t worry about it. We won, and my head’s still attached to my body, so no hard feelings.”

She drew back, the impish grin back as she spun him again — which wasn’t very easy considering he had to duck under her arm. The room seemed to be moving with him, and Garreth had to right himself as subtly as possible when he came to a stop as colors that didn’t belong to the lights danced in his vision.

“You alright?” She chuckled, her hands braced on his biceps to steady him. “I think Nellie might have had a point about you tripping.”

“No, no, I’m good, just waiting for the room to stop spinning so I can look at you again.”

That hadn’t quite come out right. In place of the eye roll he was expecting, she giggled, adding fuel to his liquid confidence.

“Gods, you’re cute when you laugh,” Garreth found himself saying. He realized she was leading him away from the crowd, and soon he sank into a squashy cushion beside her. “I mean, you’re a bit blurry right now, but…still cute.”

“Okay, what’s gotten into you lately? Not that I mind the flirting… but you’ve been a right mess for weeks. I don’t think I’ve seen you this drunk before; not even when you saw your OWL results.”

A low groan rumbled in the back of his throat. “I’m peachy, pinkie promise.” Did she just say she didn’t mind his flirting?

Giggling at how absurd the words sounded together, he stuck his pinkie out to her and waited. “Come on, these are sacred!”

She did actually roll her eyes this time, but then her smallest finger hooked around his, and it didn’t pull away even when they were certainly exceeding the normal amount of time for a handshake. Garreth could smell the sweetness of Butterbeer on her breath.

It wasn’t enough to convince her, though. “Are you stressed about NEWTs? Who am I kidding, everyone and their grandmothers are. But if it’s really getting to you, then —“

Apparently, she wasn’t giving up, so Garreth sighed and rested his head against the back of the couch.

“Yes, I’m a bit strung out over the exams that will decide our entire career, what d’you think? I’m not going to have a fit over it.”

“Sorry,” her hands raised in surrender. “Just trying to figure out why you haven’t quite been yourself since the term started because I bloody care.”

“I would argue that blowing things up and making stupid decisions is very much on brand for me.”

Releasing a heavy sigh (more like an impatient huff, really), she wrested her pinkie from his, leaving Garreth more than a bit disappointed. But then again, what had he expected? That she’d sit there and hold his hand?

He hadn’t earned that. Somehow, he had earned her friendship from the very first day of their fifth year, but in no way did he reserve the right to even hope of something more. She was, well… extraordinary, and Garreth was an extraordinary disaster.

Maybe it was time he rectified that.

“Wait,” he tugged pathetically on her sleeve when she rose from the couch. “Sit with me for a little bit longer? I might need someone to Accio a rubbish bin over here soon.”

To his great relief, she sat down again, shaking her head to disguise a little chuckle. “You’re something else, y’know?”

”I’ve been told once or twice.”

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Bonfire Nights had been sparse the past couple of years around Hogwarts, as many of the residents had feared drawing attention to themselves with the looming threat of Ashwinders and goblins and the like. This year, Garreth had had the pleasure of seeing pyres built weeks beforehand, and by the end of October Zonko’s had sold out of Filibuster’s Fireworks.

As night settled over the Highlands, bonfires began to flare to life all along the rolling hills, appearing like flaming stars from the view at the castle. Garreth, alongside a group of fellow seventh years carrying sparklers and mini-fireworks, spent the brisk walk to the hill above Hogsmeade village lost in uncharacteristic melancholy. He’d never been the sort to reminisce; preferring to live in the here and now whenever possible, but for some reason the knowledge that this would be his last Bonfire Night at Hogwarts made it all a bit bittersweet (the flavor of the month, it seemed).

They drank hot chocolate in ceramic mugs provided by Sirona, surrounded by the body heat of the villages’ residents as they talked and laughed and chased their children away from the forest at the edge of the plateau. Hogsmeade’s lights had been dimmed for the occasion, glowing softly below them to allow the six foot pyre they gathered around to shine.

“I can’t believe next month is Christmas already,” Leander was saying between greedy sips of the drink cupped in his blue-tinged hands. “Then it’ll be the New Year, then Spring Break, and before we know it we’ll be taking our NEWTs and graduating…”

“Breathe, Lee,” Garreth chuckled. At least he wasn’t the only one getting hit with the terrifying reality of time all at once.

”I know, is it not amazing? The last few years have gone by so quickly. I will miss this place come summer, though,” Natty sighed wistfully.

Nellie snorted. “Speak for yourself. If I never have to open a textbook again after school is over, it’ll be too soon.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Leander?” His favorite Gryffindor (don’t tell Nats or Leander) joined their little circle, her frame wrapped in a thick red scarf and one of his old Christmas sweaters she’d stolen from him in fifth year and never given back — not that he minded, as it didn’t fit him anymore and looked far better on her, anyway.

The lanky redhead grumbled a reply, “Easy for you to say. Half of my job will be desk work.”

“No shame in that,” she shrugged. “Garreth’s going to be behind a cauldron, after all.”

“Hey, Potioneers do other things besides just… brew. I’ll still forage for my own ingredients, travel to sell them… hell, one day, I might just have my own shop.” Garreth said with pride.

“So long as you don’t blow it up,” her cheeks dimpled when she smiled.

As if on cue, a loud boom shook the ground beneath them. Everyone’s eyes shot to the sky, cheers swelling amongst the crowd as the first firework exploded in a shower of golden sparks, dissolving back towards the earth like falling stars. Despite all their talk of the future, Garreth felt like a first-year again as a smile broke out on his slightly chapped lips, apparently not immune to the childlike wonder the fireworks always seemed to bring.

The next one was even louder and brighter. Garreth nearly jumped out of his skin when an iron grip closed around his arm and a body pressed into his left side. She had buried her face in his shoulder, too, and a warm feeling unrelated to the cocoa spread from his stomach.

“Aww, is the big, bad Gryffindor afraid of fireworks?” he teased, trying not to enjoy the smell of her shampoo or the color in her cheeks too much as she looked up at him sheepishly.

“Shut up!” The shivering witch hissed. “Am not. I’m just…cold, and you’re a damn furnace, as usual.”

“Oh, you’re cold,” Garreth pouted just for the drama of it. Then, before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer still. “I suppose I’ll have to keep you warm, then.”

”And they say chivalry is dead.”

She flinched after the third blast, leading him to rub her shoulder in a subtle attempt at comfort, his heart thumping almost as loud as the fireworks now going off in quick succession when she curled into him. It was then that his Neanderthal brain concluded why she might have been so terrified; after fighting in a bloody war just two years ago.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.” At all. Garreth laughed to himself and set down his mug in the grass so he could cover the ear she didn’t have pressed to his chest with his hand.

“You know, you’re really sweet when you want to be,” he thought he heard her say over the explosions echoing throughout the valleys.

He lowered his head to speak into the ear closest to him, lips brushing the flyaways from her hair, rubbing her arm again when he noticed her shiver. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold; can’t have everyone think I’ve gone soft.”

Truth be told, his limbs always felt like melted taffy around her — he was practically a puddle at her feet.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Eventually, her head lifted partially from his shoulder, and with a sidelong glance he caught her peering up at the sky with a look best described as wonder. Each burst of sparks was reflected in her wide eyes, and Garreth felt tiny pricks of electricity along every nerve in his body at the sight.

“So, um…” he scrambled for something to say so he wouldn’t think about how close her lips would be if she turned to the side a bit. “Are you still going to write to me after school’s over? Or will you forget all about us little people when you’re off traveling the world in search of ancient relics and having daring adventures?”

“Of course I’m going to write, you moonmind,” she looked up at him, then, and his hand fell from the side of her head. “And I’ll come visit, too, so I can see that shop of yours.”

Perhaps she was just humoring him, but Garreth found nothing but sincerity in her soft smile, and his own crooked grin widened at the thought that she might be one of the first to genuinely believe in him.

“What’s got you so pensive all of a sudden?”

He shrugged, absentmindedly playing with the frayed edges of her cashmere scarf. “Maybe it’s just the old age catching up to me. It pairs well with my bum hip, I think.”

”Come on, I’m serious. I won’t tell anyone and ruin your sterling reputation, I swear.”

“I don’t know,” Garreth let out a sigh, his breath clouding in the air between them. “Just realized how much I’m gonna miss you.”

“And here I thought you’d be sick of my face after seeing it every day for three years,” her eyes darted away from him to watch a spray of green and red fill the starry sky. She wasn’t shaking anymore.

Never, he almost said. Garreth knew, as he gazed hopelessly at her perfect profile, that he would never be tired of her face — well, of all of her, really. In fact, he wouldn’t mind seeing her every day for the rest of his life.

“If you’re going to miss me so desperately… Perhaps you could join me on one of my so-called ‘daring adventures’ sometime; on the off chance Pippin gives you a holiday.”

His brows shot up as she met his stare. “Really? You’d want me to tag along?”

Their classmates and the villagers burst into raucous whistles and hollering as the finale began, fireworks filling the air with the smell of gunpowder and a rainbow of light that flashed on everyone’s uplifted faces. Garreth held her tightly lest she start to panic again, but the witch in his arms just laughed jubilantly at the crowd’s infectious excitement, nodding in response to his question.

“Sure. Never know when you might need a talented Potioneer to back you up. Fair warning that we’re bound to run into some trouble now and again, naturally.”

The thump of his heart became something wild and frantic, beating away beneath the hand she’d placed on his chest until he feared it, too, would simply explode. Gods, if they weren’t careful, he would wind up doing something massively stupid… or massively genius, depending on the results.

“As long as you’re there, I say bring it on,” Garreth beamed.

He could hardly believe his luck. She’d asked him to accompany her on her travels! That had to mean something, right?

Only one way to find out for sure…

“And would it be…er, just the two of us, or would Sebastian and Ominis and the rest of the crew be joining as well?”

Her eyes sparkled with recognition. “That depends on how you would feel about us traveling alone.”

”Would it be rather selfish of me to say that I’d love to have you to myself for a bit?”

“Probably…” her breath warmed his cheeks, though they were already burning hotter than a cauldron flame as Garreth became hypnotized by the way her teeth worried at her reddened lower lip. “But then I’d have to admit that I’m selfish, too.”

Now, that was a sign.

The last round of fireworks were utterly deafening, so Garreth had to lean in once again until the cold tips of their noses brushed to say, “Could I be even more of a self-serving bastard and ask you for one more thing?”

”Yes, you can — and yes to anything you want,” her lashes fluttered as her gaze dropped down to his slightly parted mouth.

“Anything?”

Garreth wasn’t one to ignore an opportunity when it arose. He took it and ran, gently placing his hand beneath her chin at the same moment his eyes slid shut and their lips brushed together with such a delicate touch that he shuddered. Then she took the lead, deepening the kiss with a wispy little sigh that had him weak at the knees and left him unable to form any solid thought but for how fucking incredible she tasted with the remnants of rich chocolate on her tongue.

When the two of them disconnected, the last sparks were fading from the sky, but they lived on in Garreth’s veins, popping and crackling like Fizzing Whizbees.

“See?” He murmured while still trying to catch his breath. “Didn’t disappoint you, did I?”

Her laughter bubbled up between them, brighter than any display. “You never disappoint, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth had wondered before if he’d been made wrong; like one of his failed experiments with just a splash too much of the wrong thing. But perhaps — especially with someone like her to help keep him stable — some of the best things could come from the unpredictable and the unexpected.

He didn’t exactly find the missing ingredient…it had been there all along.

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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IT'S THE MOST SPECIAL WEASLEY WEDNESDAY OF THEM ALL!

Because it's Garreth Weasley Fest! @garrethweasleyfest

Huge thank you to @cuffmeinblack and @ellivenollivander for setting this all up and ensuring Garreth is showered in the love and attention he rightly deserves.

This was such a fun idea, and I can't wait to sit down and devour everyone's submissions.

The prompts I received were:

1. Childhood Enemies

2. Yule Ball

3. Cinnamon Roll

And because of who I am as a person, I decided to incorporate all three.

So, without further rambling, I hope you'll enjoy my submission to Garreth Weasley Fest 2024.

Word Count: ~2700

Sugar and Spice

“Fuck-”

The hissed curse flew from Garreth's lips as his knuckles scraped the rough interior of a cauldron.

Again.

And he was left with yet another raw scrape, stinging from the cleaning solution Professor Sharp left him with as his only companion for that night's detention. The acrid scent of whatever filled the large basin and soaked his grated sponge served as a harsh reminder that his peers were presently enjoying the opposite.

He'd smelled as much an hour earlier, trudging sullenly past the Great Hall for a glimpse of the Yule Ball on his way to the dungeons - crisp cider and the decadent aroma of desserts wafted out of the closed oaken doors, taunting him. How Garreth ached to take a peek at the spectacle, wanting to torture himself further by knowing what he was missing out on, rather than merely imagining it.

All because of her.

She hadn't been barred from the ball - no, despite the fact she was just as guilty of pilfering supplies from old Sharp's stores. She'd always been good at weaseling her way out of trouble, though, especially if it was to his detriment.

Twerp.

Garreth scrubbed harder at the cauldron, minding his fingers better this time as he mused petulantly over the bane of his existence since age zero and how the witch consistently did her utmost to temper his good nature. He'd had the grand misfortune of being born in a lively village with many neighbors - one of which happened to be a darling little girl precisely his age.

And she'd been a nuisance from day one.

Despite his better attempts to befriend her, she'd met each and every one by fumbling it all with her need to compete with him.

A proud Gryffindor trait, Garreth knew, but that never made it any more impressive when the menace constantly tried to one-up him. Everything from racing and snaps as children to Quidditch and coursework in school. It didn't help matters that dear Auntie Matilda took such a shine to the girl, either, and praised her as freely as water flowed from a tap.

That morning in Potions had been no different.

The bloody swot had ruined her lacewing flies, and he'd caught sight of her skulking into the supply closet when their grizzled old Professor found himself preoccupied with another one of Gaunt's blackened smoke mishaps.

A lesser person might have called attention to her - gotten her well and truly caught out as she deserved.

Garreth, regrettably, had never been able to muster the petty ire to intentionally doom a peer and instead slipped away from his own station to warn her off from it. He'd have lent her the damn ingredient if she'd just go sit back down and not risk losing their House points when they were neck-and-neck with Slytherin.

All too late, however, when the ex-Auror caught wind of their whispered bickering and instantly decided Garreth had been the one thieving, and that his fairer companion was the one trying to coax him away from any further rule-breaking.

How generous Sharp was to not dock points from their House, instead sentencing Garreth to detention when the girl simply opted not to speak up in his defense and take her rightful blame.

Perhaps a fair judgment call on old Sharp's part, considering Garreth Weasley may or may not have a running record of sticky fingers when it came to ingredients…

But, to make matters worse, said detention came in the form of missing the Yule Ball.

He should have spoken up.

She should be here, scrubbing away her fingers raw instead of flitting about the dance floor and laughing with her friends.

While he mulled and stewed, sulking over broken nails and baked-on brew failures, Garreth wholly missed the set of footsteps approaching. Heeled shoes cracked across the forever-tarnished marble flooring until they were upon him, and at last, Garreth stirred from his volatile regrets to find himself face-to-face with the very muse of his disdain.

Pretty wouldn't exactly do her justice, all dolled up in a darling dress and polished well enough to look very much like a gemstone amidst all the cast iron and gloom of the dungeons classroom.

Lit up and lovely.

Breathless and flushed.

Garreth could only imagine the sort of things she'd been up to since the start of the festivities - likely dancing and flitting about and stuffing her face the way she so gleefully did at the summer gatherings he'd always been forced to see her at.

Hardly mattered, though, considering he'd very much like to toss his soiled sponge at her made-up face, daring to show up with a smile to rub in that she'd gotten away free from punishment and was clearly enjoying her evening.

Crouched down, head cocked to the side as she quietly watched him work, Garreth's ire only grew.

“Don't you have a ball to be at?” He greeted through gritted teeth, very sorely tempted to start speaking to her the way he'd just been barking at his cauldron.

Her reply came simply, “Yes, actually.”

With an especially aggressive wring of his sponge, Garreth chucked it in the bottom of the cauldron and sat back on his haunches with an exasperated huff, increasingly displeased with the appearance of the last witch on earth he wanted to entertain.

Wasn't it bad enough he couldn't even escape her on the holidays?

“Is this your idea of entertainment, then? Come to tell me about it before you go back? This should be you in here, you do realize -”

“I realize.” Once again, she spoke simply.

Unruffled as ever by his sweaty, frustrated, uncharacteristic scolding, she actually had the audacity to look as if she were biting back a snicker.

Still, she carried on, glancing around the classroom with a whistle at the lines of cauldrons still yet to be scrubbed.

“Merlin, this'll take you all night, eh? Sharp really had no mercy.”

If only he were the type to yell and curse at girls…

Or anyone, really.

With yet another long-suffering sigh, Garreth bit back the harsh retort he'd like to spit at her and bottled it up like one of his potions.

“Sharp isn't to blame.” He retorted, tone curt.

“I know.” She said and had the good grace to look at least a bit sheepish. “I didn't think he'd actually set you up here during the Yule Ball, though - prickly as he is, I never thought he'd make good on that threat.”

“Well, he did.” Garreth answered her shortly once more, hoping against hope that if he didn't feed into her digs that she'd get bored and leave for the far shinier allure of the festivities elsewhere.

Green eyes refocused on his miserable, endless task, picking the filthy sponge back up in his pruned hands and scrubbing once more. Much to Garreth’s delight, his plan succeeded, and his personal menace shifted for a moment and stood, stepping away.

He breathed a sigh of relief, muscles in his shoulders relaxing, until she popped back up again, and he nearly shrieked.

“Bloody-”

“Got you a snack.” She chirped, holding out a platter piled high with cinnamon rolls.

Garreth blinked at the offering - what he, in his confused surprise, could only assume was some attempt at an apology.

“Not so much a snack as a feast - did you even bother saving any for the others?” He asked warily, peering over her shoulder to ensure Sharp hadn't decided to shirk his duties as chaperone to come check on his own personal Cinderella.

Still, he couldn't deny the aroma of the warm, spiced bread cut through the chemical air of the room in a way that made his mouth water and stomach clench.

She simply laughed and jostled the tray encouragingly.

“They've plenty of other morsels to choose from.” She reassured him, finally sitting firmly beside him on the floor, platter in her lap. “These, however, are your favorite. Thus, you should have them.”

While she wasn't wrong - because, of course she wasn't, she damn well knew all his favorites by now - Garreth still couldn't swallow down the scoff that fled his lips.

“I'd have them already if I could've attended the ball, too. Hope you don't expect me to kneel and offer my thanks for a handful of pastries.” He said, but his bitter words did very little to detract from the way his eyes tracked those rolls hungrily.

And, damn her, she noticed.

That same teasing laugh that always had him bristling.

“Yes, and thank you for that, by the way. Like I mentioned - I really didn't think Sharp would truly ban you from the ball. Assumed he was all hot air. This isn't much of an apology, but…” She bit her lip and grabbed one of the fresh polishing rags off the floor, tossing it at him. “Well, just clean off your hands so you're not eating filth.”

He did as much, hunger for sweets winning out easily over pride, and tossed the soiled rag back into the pile before snatching one off the plate.

She followed suit.

“Oi, those are mine.” He scolded through a mouthful of crumbs.

There was that laugh again, like his annoyance was endearing rather than serious.

“You're not really going to eat all of these - there's at least a dozen here…” His withering stare caused her to trail off. “Well, you can spare the one. I haven't eaten, either.”

He grabbed for another, both hands stuffed with a roll each.

“Thought you said there was plenty to eat.”

He didn't want to be making conversation with her right now, but if he chased her off, he'd be losing out on enchanted, warm, soul-soothing confections. What a cursed trade.

She hummed and nodded, nibbling at her own treat in a way that reminded him of something more mouse than girl. “Yes, well, I was too preoccupied searching for my wayward neighbor, but when you failed to turn up, I realized-”

“That you'd well and truly stolen my attendance? Astute. And they say we Gryffindors aren't the most observant.” Maybe a little snark, but he was sure to add a playful inflection so as not to come across too spiteful - even though he felt the strong urge to properly reprimand her.

She'd earned it, after all.

But, as always, she took it in stride.

“You're right, I stole it like I stole the lacewings, and you covered for me regardless. I was planning to thank you for the former, but the latter has put me in a greater debt. Least I can do is bring you some treats and help out.” She shifted the tray onto his 6 stood, brushing off her dress skirt and kneeling before the cauldron he'd been working on, reaching in to take the sponge. “ This is my punishment, after all. I intend to steal it, too. You just sit tight and eat up.”

Garreth watched, flabbergasted, as she did indeed begin scrubbing cauldrons in her ballgown, humming some waltz under her breath she'd no doubt been listening to whilst pilfering those ill-gotten confections. All his prior suspicions that she'd ventured down here purely to gloat and taunt were slipping away faster than the bubbles floating up from Sharp's cleaning solution, and Garreth was left very much puzzled by her intentions.

And panicked, as a very dark splatter from her vigorous scrubbing sloshed up onto the bodice of her baby blue gown.

“Alright, alright - apology accepted! Just-just put that down and hurry to get the stain off. Merlin…” He stuttered, shooing her away from the task and forcibly prying the sponge from her hand.

Even her manicured fingertips had been sullied so quickly, and despite the fact he'd been annoyed with her all evening - all his life, really - he also had enough little sisters to know full well how much time and effort the girl had put into looking like this. Despite his sulking all day, trying to ignore the reality that he'd be missing out, Garreth Weasley was also not blind to the endless stream of witches flitting about Gryffindor Tower since before dawn, fretting over their hair and making each other up in all manner of tedious ways.

And they hadn't looked half as good as the menace before him, loathe as he was to admit it.

But, again, he wasn't blind.

And again, she laughed.

And simply grabbed another sponge from the basin before pushing her way back into his cauldron and carrying on by his side, looking wholly unbothered.

“I wouldn't have gone in the first place if I knew you really weren't attending. I don't want to go back - not while you're here. I really am sorry.” She said, and truly did look apologetic.

Damn him and his bleeding heart, because all that earlier anger was so quick to melt away in the face of a single, heartfelt apology.

“It's fine, really. Don't martyr yourself over it. I want you to go back and have fun.” He said gruffly, glancing quickly back into the cauldron to avoid looking at her any longer. “I mean it.”

He didn't.

She knew him well enough to know that, too, and simply hummed in amusement while carrying on as if he hadn't spoken at all.

The pair worked in an uneasy tandem, the silence rather weighty, until she scraped the back of her hand off the inside of the bowl with a sharp inhale. Garreth winced and grabbed her hand immediately, pulling her away from the cauldron to inspect the raw skin.

“Now, would you please go back to the ball?” He said, shooting her a pointed look as he dabbed the small beads of red bubbling up with a cloth. “You can make it up to me later if you're that guilty.”

He didn't miss the blush on her cheeks underneath the glittering makeup. Nor did he miss the heat creeping up from his own collar, all-too-aware of her soft hand in his and the delicate, floral perfume reminding him how close she was.

It had always been his least favorite facet of her endless proximity - how aware he was that she was A Very Pretty Girl.

The frequent, mortifying comments from their respective relatives about weddings and affection, even when he'd been barely old enough to grasp such concepts, only compounded his discomfort. The constant expectation of everyone around them that they would just inevitably be together only served to make Garreth dig his heels in further and intentionally find fault with her, if only to prove them all wrong - and she'd seemed of a like mind.

A twisted, unspoken agreement between them to keep distance in that regard and never speak on it. To keep up an endless rivalry rather than play into their families’ teasing hands and avoid talks of wedding bells and more Weasleys.

“I do feel guilty.” She said, voice tight while he swiped the fabric over her sore hand. “But the fact remains that I don't want to attend if you're not there.”

Too close to the sentimentality they'd both agreed-but-not-agreed to avoid.

He didn't mind it enough to intentionally veer away from the topic, however, and that frustrated him more than how she'd breached the subject in the first place. The image of her, dressed as she was and scouring the ballroom for him, and then opting to leave when he wasn't there at all. Seeking him out like this, on her knees in a gown, knocking her fingers against his and teasing him while they scrubbed away alone in a dungeon classroom.

The romantic undertones were too much to disregard if he tried.

But, he also wasn't about to ask her for a dance and a kiss.

Not yet, at least.

Instead -

“Next year, then.” He offered simply, giving her hand the slightest squeeze as he spoke before releasing her.

She blinked at him, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head to decipher his meaning.

“Unless, of course, one of us gets detention. We could always just make a tradition out of this.” He followed up with a mild tease, a weak attempt to make light of what he'd really asked.

She seemed to catch on, though, quick as he knew she was.

Her response told him as much. “Next year, then. It's a date.”

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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Stay With Me

Written for the @garrethweasleyfest 🧪🦁

AN: The fic takes place in seventh year, but they're technically still underaged. Despite it being very obvious why she's in his bed in the first place and there being a few references to it there is no explicit detail in this fic. While I never used her name since I haven't gotten around to making her a proper profile, the girl in the story is Persephone Malfoy, one of my ocs. This is the link to her intro post if anyone's curious about her

When he woke, it was silent - up before the others, then, which rarely ever happened. Garreth tended to be one of the last of them awake, rushing through some semblance of a morning routine in order to make it to breakfast with enough time for a full meal.

The silence allowed him to come to awareness slowly, letting his eyes stay closed as he nuzzled further into the soft skin under his face, the last lingering touches of her perfume - flowery and undoubtedly expensive - drawing him in. Underneath the perfume there was a hint of sweat from the night before, and the smell of warmth from being wrapped in his sheets. The combination threatened to pull him back down into slumber. How he'd gotten himself on top of her without waking either of them up was a mystery, but he wasn't complaining, not one bit. It was the best way he'd ever woken up, and it was promptly ruined as he remembered that it would probably never happen again.

Garreth cursed himself, cursed his now pounding heart, cursed her too for good measure, and then took it back and held her tighter in apology. She'd been clear; she always had. His heartbreak was his own.

To be fair to himself, though, he'd never expected her to stay the night.

He asked. Every single time she let him touch her, he asked her if she'd stay with him, and she said no. More often than not, she walked away without a word. It was easier that way. If she left, he never got the chance to delude himself into thinking that he had a chance at earning her heart. Nothing between them was romantic. That wasn't what she needed. She needed stress relief, she needed to work her anger out, she needed someone to take care of her after she saved the world again. She didn't need him, she just needed someone, and Garreth had always been willing. Was he even sure that she had no other devotees? A masochistic part of him liked to latch onto the idea that even if there were others, he was surely her favorite. The fact that she sought him out so frequently meant something, didn't it?

Very likely, it just meant that he was convenient. Had he ever turned her down? Ever said no, not tonight and sent her away? No, of course not. He hadn't even considered such a thing. He couldn't. Garreth would always want more of her, including the things she wasn't willing to give him.

But last night... he'd asked, just like he always did.

Stay? Please?

And she'd looked at him for a long moment, looked at his hand caught around her wrist, and climbed back into his bed.

Don't get ideas, she'd said.

He'd wanted to joke. Too late for that, he could have said, waggled an eyebrow at their nudity. His voice had caught in his throat instead, and he'd laid down as close to the edge of the mattress as he could. That was what she'd meant, anyway. No cuddling. No romance. No feelings.

None of what he was doing now: his head tucked under her chin, his arms wound around her, holding her the way he'd always dreamed of. Godric, he had to let go before she woke up and decided that he wasn't what she needed anymore. If she stopped coming to him because of this, because she could no longer pretend he didn't love her, he'd never forgive himself.

As Garreth tried to work up the strength to roll over, she shifted slightly beneath him, tensing as she noticed the position they were in. Panic rose in his throat like bile. Could he pretend to still be asleep? No, not with the way she could surely feel his heart thudding rapidly against his ribs, pressed up to her side. He was doomed. He'd gotten greedy and ruined everything.

Hesitant fingers brushed the back of his head, and Garreth couldn't help the way his breath hitched.

When he didn't react, frozen in shock and a painful hope, she let her hand sink properly into his curls and sighed, the tension leaking from her body - unlike him, who felt like he might vibrate out of his skin with nerves. This was new. This was something he'd never dared dream of, and yet. She had to know he was awake. Why was she doing this? To taunt him? Even she could never be that cruel... right?

With every ounce of courage he possessed, Garreth tilted his head up. Just a smidge. Just to see. Her fingers ran over his scalp, so similar to what she did when he was worshipping at her altar but so different, because this was gentle. This was a caress. He dared to relax back against her, willing himself to stop getting his hopes up. Maybe she was just nicer in the morning (he knew she wasn't, he'd seen her hex a first year for asking her how to get to the potions classroom before she'd gotten any sugar in her system). Maybe she was just comfortable. Maybe she was just cuddling him the way she would a cat, and he was nothing more than a pet to her. Though, on that train of thought, people did tend to love their pets - and there went his hopes rising again.

A loud thump startled them both. The thud was followed by a pained groan; Leander's alarm had shocked him into falling off the bed again. Garreth couldn't really blame him. Back in first year, before they knew how to cast silencing charms around their beds, Leander's horrid alarm scared them all shitless each morning and caused many a sleep deprived fight. Apparently, the thing was from his grandmother as a 'going away' gift. Garreth told him to just toss it and use a charm like the rest of them, but Leander maintained that he slept like the dead, so nothing but the alarm could wake him.

Swallowing his own fear at the anxious expression on her face, Garreth wished he'd thrown the damn thing away himself.

"The room will be cleared out in fifteen minutes at the most," he whispered, begging her with his eyes to stay calm, stay with him. "You can sneak out once they're all at breakfast."

She nodded.

Like a fool, he asked, "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded again, bit her lip, and turned away.

He could hear the others getting up and debated leaving her alone to calm herself. Whatever had gotten into her was gone now; there was no reclaiming the tenderness they'd had before it was ruined. The best course of action would be to tuck the memory safely into his mind and move on with his day.

As he shifted to get up, though, she snatched his arm to stop him.

"They'll see me," she hissed.

"I'll keep the curtains closed," Garreth promised her. "They won't see you."

"Do you often leave the curtains drawn?" she demanded.

He frowned. "No?" Her meaning sank in, and he hummed. "Ah, right. That would be suspicious. Alright, I suppose I'll just wait them out, then. They won't come looking for me unless I miss breakfast."

Helplessly, Garreth's gaze fell to where she was still gripping his arm. Her pretty painted nails looked so good against his freckled skin. She should always have her hand on him, in his opinion. He risked a glance at her face - she was also looking at her hand on his arm, fixated, and it was suddenly all too easy to slip back into his jokes.

"Like my biceps, do you?"

Seeing the blush on her cheeks was almost worth her snatching her hand away.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed," he teased. "I admire them too. You'd be shocked how much strength stirring a cauldron takes."

"Shut up," she muttered, fingers now clenched in his sheets instead of his skin. Lucky sheets.

Taking pity on her (and maybe not wanting to push her too much further than he already had), Garreth gathered her clothes from the edge of his bed to hand to her. It was sheer good fortune that neither of them had kicked them to the floor in the night. A girl's uniform by the foot of his bed would definitely have aroused suspicion.

Somehow, no one had noticed their frequent simultaneous disappearances yet - or, more likely, they had noticed, but were wise enough to leave it alone. Garreth was grateful either way.

Her beautiful body was covered up again in no time at all. He wished he knew what to say to make sure she wasn't going to walk out of his dorm and never come back, but she wasn't the reassuring type, so even if he did try to check in with her nothing would come of it. He let the chatter of the others fill the air instead.

"Oh, bugger, there's a test in Transfiguration today, isn't there? I haven't studied!"

"We've known about it since last week."

"I forgot, you arse!"

"Wah wah wah, you'll do fine. You always ace Transfiguration."

"But what if I don't?!"

The corner of her mouth turned up just a little at his dormmates' antics, and Garreth stared without remorse. Could he be faulted for thinking she was even more beautiful when she smiled? He thought not.

It only took a few more minutes. Finally, the door slammed shut and the room fell silent. She let out a deep breath, clearly relieved, though she made no move to get up from the bed.

"I'll make sure the coast is clear?" he offered.

"Okay."

Garreth stretched out his back as he swung his legs to the floor, raising his arms above his head and cracking his neck. He peered back at her over his shoulder on a whim.

Caught, she averted her eyes, a blush once again rising on her fair skin. He grinned smugly.

The room was properly empty, so he tossed on his trousers and stuck his head into the hall to check the stairs. No one in sight. A shame. He'd been hoping for a reason to keep her a little longer.

"Run for it."

He hadn't expected her to actually bolt out of the room, but she did, scurrying down the stairs and turning to dash up to her own room. His chest ached seeing her flee like that, but he still held out hope that he hadn't ruined it. That perfect moment - letting him lie with her, her fingers in his hair - that had to have meant something.

Maybe in another few years and she'd actually let him take her out on a date, or even just hold her hand in public.

He'd settle for her staying over again.

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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I don’t normally do this but i absolutely loved my prompt and i had a blast drawing it.

I chose Domesticity out of my three. Thank you so much to @cuffmeinblack and @ellivenollivander who started this event!

You can find the event blog here: @garrethweasleyfest

Adult Garreth with his Daughter. I wanted his kid to pretty much be a carbon copy of Gar, so anyone can imagine their oc/mc to be her parent. My art isn’t realistic or fancy but i hope you fellow Garreth lovers like it.

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

Text

Falling Hard

Summary: A story about how Garreth fell first (literally and figuratively).

Word Count: 5,416

Rating: T (boner alert, but that’s about it)

A/N: Thank you to @cuffmeinblack and @ellivenollivander for arranging @garrethweasleyfest!! And a special thank you to whoever submitted banana peel as a prompt lmao

Read on AO3

Garreth Weasley laid flat out in the center of the Great Hall, staring at the candle lit ceiling. He could hear laughter echoing around him, and a sharp pain radiating through the lower half of his back. Garreth shut his eyes tightly, wishing he was anywhere but the middle of his school dining hall, spread-eagle with banana pith on his heels.

He supposed he deserved this, after all.

And then, Garreth felt her hands cupping his cheeks, the soft pads of her fingers brushing his chin. When he opened his eyes, he blinked heavily, her face hovering over his. Wisps of her hair brushed his skin as she leaned over him, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Okay, he would survive this. Especially if it meant being in this close of proximity to her.

“You’re an idiot, Garreth.” She shook her head, staring down at him with wide eyes.

He smiled up at her, blinking to clear his eyes. She was kneeling, hands flat on the ground at both sides of his face. He could smell her, the faint hint of mallowsweet lingering over her distinctive perfume. If he craned his neck up, he could probably kiss her—

“Yeowch,” Garreth groaned, a sharp pain crackling through his head like lightning. The sensation was enough to drive him back down to the ground, grasping at the flagstone floor. She shifted her hand, this time to cup the back of his head. He heard her inhale sharply, examining reddened fingertips.

”Is that blood?” He asked weakly.

Leander scampered forward, gasping when he saw his best mate’s current state. She was frozen at his side, fresh blood dripping down her hand.

“Somebody call Blainey!”

It sounded like Natty. Leander sat at his side, bracing Garreth’s head in place. He tried to move, to pry himself from the other redhead’s grasp, but the sharp pain returned. Someone was saying something to the effect of conjuring towels, and he saw her sit up, the offending yellow culprit in hand.

Fuck bananas, Garreth thought. Horrible stringy fruit. Who even liked bananas anyways?

She did. She’d always bounce over from her table, snatching a banana from the fruit bowl closest to him. She’d smile, say good morning, and that interaction would make his entire day.

”Garreth,” he heard her voice. He tried to crane his neck upwards again, but the ringing continued in his ear.

And then he passed out.

“I can’t believe you,” Aunt Matilda huffed. “Seriously Garreth, cracking your skull a week before graduation. Your mother will have my head.”

”I’m sorry,” Garreth repeated for the umpteenth time, wincing as Blainey wrapped another bandage around his noggin, flattening down his red hair. It was late afternoon already, and he’d missed the majority of his classes. With exams on the horizon, few of his friends had the free time to sit by his side. Therein, he was sequestered to his hospital wing bed with only his aunt for company.

“Garreth, you’re nearly a grown man and I still have to mind your behavior.” his aunt snapped. “How can an employer take you seriously when you’re still acting like a third year? Let alone a woman—“

”I get it, Aunt Tilly,” Garreth grumbled. “I have to wisen up.”

His Aunt Matilda’s face softened, lips pursed as she gave him a flat lipped smile. “I know the final days of term can be stressful. I just don’t want to see your talent wasted on trying to be remembered as a goofball.”

Garreth wasn’t trying for anything in particular—in fact, his stunt in the Great Hall had been an attempt to get everyone to forget what he’d blurted out in the heat of the moment.

Someone cleared their throat; Garreth and his aunt turned their heads to see Nurse Blainey standing next to the fabric partition.

“Visitors for Mr. Weasley,” she announced, gesturing to the now visible doorway.

”Oh thank Merlin,” Garreth wheezed, sitting up. He smiled weakly at Natty and Leander, who were walking into the hospital wing with his textbooks and assignments in their arms.

”Sorry it took us so long,” Natty said apologetically. “Had a double potions session with Sharp.” She dumped Garreth’s book bag onto the bed, books and papers spilling out the top.

”Thank you for bringing his homework,” Aunt Matilda said kindly. She redirected her attention back down to Garreth, eyes narrowing. “Now, don’t get into any more mischief, young man. I’ll be back in the morning.”

”Yes, Aunt Tilly.” Garreth said dully, crossing his arms. Natty and Leander watched the deputy headmistress walk out of the hospital wing, disappearing down the stairs.

”How do you feel?” Leander asked, pulling up a chair. Natty sat at the end of the bed, rearranging his book bag.

”Like shit,” Garreth grumbled, rubbing his head. “Cracked my skull, remember?”

“While skele-grow works wonders, I’m sure it can’t taste all that good.” Natty winced, shivering at the thought. “What did it taste like?”

”Chalk,” Garreth tapped his chin. “Think I blacked out all over again while taking it.”

Leander snorted, opening his own book bag to deliver a pumpkin pasty wrapped in a napkin. “I know the hospital wing food is tragic, don’t eat it all in one go.”

”What’s the damage then?” Garreth asked, swiping the pasty from Leander’s outstretched hand. He took a big bite, chewing thoughtful as his eyes flitted between his two friends.

”It’s fine—“

”Awful, mate.”

Leander and Natty shared similar sharp glances at one another.

“Alrighty then,” Garreth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Give me the play by play, what people are saying.”

”Well,” Natty said hesitantly, playing with the end of one of her braids. “People are saying you’ve…er, gone a bit mad.”

”Me?” Garreth balked. “Gone mad? Over a banana?”

”It’s not just the banana.” Natty sighed. “It’s how you were speaking to her.”

”To her?” Garreth posed the question, still confused.

”Well, you sort of shouted at her.” Leander said slowly.

”I did not shout at her,” Garreth retorted.

Natty winced. “Yeah, afraid you did.”

Garreth blinked, trying to remember exactly what had happened at breakfast that morning. “I…I shouted at her?”

”She came over to the table to take a banana, like she always does.” Leander recounted. “And you asked her to sit with us. She just about did—“

”Until Sallow yelled at her to come back and sit with him and Ominis.” Natty finished his sentence. “You kind of lost the plot then.”

”I don’t remember this at all,” Garreth groaned.

”I think that’s for the best.” Natty said reassuringly, patting his hand.

“No, tell me more.” Garreth beckoned them forward. “Tell me how bad it was.”

”You sort of…well, you got into it with Sallow, told him off for interrupting you. And you both stood up at the front of the table, got in each other’s faces. And then, Sebastian yelled—“

This part Garreth remembered. It came back to him like a punch to the gut.

It’s almost like you’re in love with her, Weasley.

“Fuck,” Garreth swore. “I told everyone I was in love with her.”

Leander and Natty shared a painful glance with one another. “Just about. I mean, really, you were screaming it, so I’m not sure everyone truly understood.” Natty offered.

Leander scoffed. “It was pretty easy to put two and two together, Nat.”

Garreth buried his face in his hands as the memory formed in his head. Completely red in the face at Sebastian’s remark, he stared at the Slytherin with balled up fists. Garreth had stepped up, puffing his chest out as he blurted out his confession.

Maybe I am, he’d shrieked. IkindofsortofamkindofinlovewithherandI’vebeeninlovewithhereversinceourfifthyear.

”Merlin’s saggy tits,” Garreth muttered, hanging his head low. “I need to move continents.”

“I’m sure it’ll blow over,” Natty assured him. “It’s the last week of school, everyone who didn’t hear you will just assume you had—“

”A mental break?” Leander interjected. “That’s plausible. What’s not plausible is the fact that he decided to throw a bloody banana peel and crack his own skull open.”

“It was for comedic effect,” Garreth argued. “To uh, deflect the problem at hand.”

”Joke went out the window when everyone saw your blood on the floor.” Leander pointed out.

Garreth slumped in his bed, a hand flying up to adjust the gauze bandage around his head. He opened his mouth, shutting it rapidly as he tried to form his next thought without making his brain explode.

”It seemed like the best possible plan at the time.” He said miserably.

”It was funny at first.” Natty shrugged. “Don’t dwell on it, Garreth. Peeves has already stopped singing about it.”

Garreth ripped his pillow out from behind him, screaming into the feathered cushion.

”I told you we shouldn’t tell him that part.” Leander muttered.

Hogwarts was known for its decadent meals, but that service didn’t seem to translate up to the food offered in the hospital wing. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night and Garreth was still playing with his spoon, dragging it back and forth the cold, half-empty bowl of chicken broth a house elf had brought in for him. He wished he hadn’t been so quick to finish the pasties Leander had smuggled in for him.

“You should eat, Mr. Weasley.” Nurse Blainey clucked. The school nurse was clad in her pajamas, hair set in curlers as she prepared for bed. “Your bones will heal faster if you’re properly nourished.”

”Not much nourishment in this soup,” Garreth wrinkled his nose.

Blainey ignored his complaints, instead brushing the edge of her robe. “Now, it’s lights out, Mr. Weasley. I’ll leave you with your tray, but otherwise you should get your rest. I’ll be in my office; should you need me, just ring the bell.”

Blainey disappeared behind the partition; Garreth could see the outline of her walking back to her office, waving her wand to dim the lights. The door clicked shut, and all that was left in the hospital wing was poor old Garreth and his bowl of cold broth. He winced as he shifted in the creaky bed, setting the tray down on the bedside table. If he was going to be stuck here all night, he might as well get a good night’s rest before facing ridicule from the entire student body.

”It’s only one more week,” Garreth mumbled to himself, pulling the woolen blanket up to his chin. A singular week separated him from graduation. In seven days, he’d be a free man. Free to explore the world, to finally start the research on his potion ingredient almanac the way he’d planned on doing his entire school career.

A week before he’d likely never see her again.

Garreth turned on to his side, groaning. Perhaps that was for the best, he thought. He probably frightened her. That, or at least made her think he was completely off his rocker. Who in the right mind would shout their undying love, followed by trying to annihilate oneself with a banana peel?

Fuck, he’d never live it down. The ghosts would tell stories of his tragedy for years to come.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d responded. If she had understood his ramblings (which Leander had confirmed to be an unmistakable declaration of love), she hadn’t visited him in the hospital wing at all during the day. He’d been optimistic earlier, after Natty and Leander left for supper. But with every passing hour, Garreth lost a little bit of hope that his affections might be returned.

How could she love him, he thought. They were friends, that’s all. It was his own fault he’d taken the bait from Sallow, who’d given him that annoyingly smug face at the breakfast table.

Garreth was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the footsteps, or the creak of the partitions being moved. He only became aware of a second body in the hospital wing when the mattress dipped. He furrowed his brow as he looked over his shoulder, blinking at nothing.

”What the?” He grumbled, sitting up.

“Revelio,” a familiar voice muttered.

“Bloody hell,” Garreth gasped. He clutched his heart, as if it were going to beat right out of his chest at the sight of his crush materializing out of thin air at the edge of his bed.

She smiled at him, wild hair flying around her face as she dropped her wand onto the blanket. “Hi.” She whispered, nudging his legs. “Scoot over.”

”What are you doing here?” Garreth whispered, eyes wide.

Figured you could use some company.” She said nonchalantly, smoothing out the edge of her dressing gown. “And some snacks—the hospital wing food is atrocious from what I can remember.” She reached down to her little purse, undoing the flap. Garreth stared at her in confusion as she shoved her arm down to the elbow.

”Undetectable extension charm,” she murmured, pulling her arm back out to reveal a tin can. “Here, eat this.”

Garreth looked down at the tin, which she’d placed in his hands. Banana flavored candies from Zonko’s.

“What are you doing here?” Garreth repeated, peering up at her through his copper lashes.

She gave him a funny look. “I’m here to see you, silly.”

”But why now?” Garreth insisted. “You had all day.”

”Excuse me, I had a full diary today. I wasn’t factoring a trip to the hospital wing in the schedule.” She scoffed, handing him a chocolate bar from Zonko’s. “Classes, studying for NEWTs, some errands for a few folks in the highlands, checking in on the shop.” She herself opened a tin of licorice, tipping it his way as an offering. “The usual.”

Garreth gladly took a piece. “You do too much, you know.” He pointed out, followed by a big bite. “I have no idea how you manage.”

She shrugged, playing with the edge of the blanket. “I just want to be helpful while I’m still around the highlands. Who on earth is going to help these villagers with all their tasks when I’m gone?”

Garreth chuckled, shaking his head. “You do too much.”

She chewed on the candy, eyes twinkling. “I know I do.”

”And you should probably be sleeping,” Garreth pointed out. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. “Merlin’s beard, it’s nearly midnight. You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

She swallowed thickly. “I just wanted to see that you’re okay.”

Garreth felt his face heat up in a blush. “I’m fine,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Just a bump.”

She raised her brow. “A bump? Garreth, you were in a puddle of your own blood.”

”My own fault.” Garreth pointed out. “As everyone has reminded me.”

She shook her head, fighting a laugh. “Garreth Weasley, only you would try to take yourself out with a banana peel the week before graduation.”

”It’s pathetic.” Garreth wrinkled his nose.

”It’s hilarious,” she said sternly, wagging a finger in his face. “But I must plead with you to be more careful with yourself.”

Garreth chewed his bottom lip, avoiding her gaze. He instead focused on the woven pattern of the blanket, pulling on the frayed edge. “I thought I might have scared you.”

She tilted her head. “Scared me? How so?”

“Because I said some things…perhaps I screamed them at you, I don’t quite remember.”

Her face softened, and she tilted his chin up to look at her. “Sebastian can be cruel sometimes, I don’t want you to take it to heart. He felt awful, you know. I gave him a proper scolding afterwards. He didn’t mean to egg you on like that.”

She’d completely glazed over the confession, Garreth noted. A clear sign of her feelings towards him. Just friends, that’s all they were. They’d been friends since she arrived at the beginning of fifth year—she’d been the only person brave enough to sneak into Sharp’s office to get him a fwooper feather, and then she’d boldly traversed the One Eyed Witch passage to gather him some billywig stings. Letters exchanged over the summer holidays, stolen glances across the cauldron from one another in Sharp’s seventh year seminar. He’d memorized the sound of her laugh from all their shared classes, always endeavoring to make her giggle at least once every lesson. And for the last year, she’d volunteer to be his partner every night in Astronomy, shivering together as they charted their stars.

But, there was Sebastian.

Garreth had nothing against the chap, except for the fact that he was a Slytherin. In fact, he and Sebastian had quite a jovial acquaintanceship going before she arrived. But as soon as they’d returned for their sixth year, things seemed to change. Sebastian was more withdrawn, keeping to himself more than ever after his uncle’s death. And she stayed at his side, always fussing over him at meals or passing notes with him during study periods. It was the kind of treatment one would reserve for a loved one, an intimacy Garreth could never seem to cross with her.

Sebastian always hogged her, especially at meal times. She only ever left his side at breakfast to get her daily fruit from the Gryffindor table, exchanging pleasantries and a kind smile with Garreth in exchange. If he were lucky, they’d have time for a cup of tea between classes. On even luckier days, he might catch her walking home from Hogsmeade, electing to take the long way home just to hear her speak.

Even if she was taken, his crush on her grew stronger, made even more alluring by how unattainable she was.

”It was stupid of me,” Garreth mumbled, pinching the blanket. “To say all that in front of your boyfriend.”

She wrinkled her nose. “My boyfriend?”

”Yeah,” Garreth sighed. “Sebastian.”

Her eyes softened once more, and she took her hand in his.

”Garreth,” she said carefully. “Sebastian and I—we’re not together.”

Garreth looked up at her in confusion. “You’re not?”

”He’s just my best friend,” she murmured. “He’s had it tough the last two years, and perhaps I’ve babied him a bit too much. But trust me when I say there is absolutely nothing between us. He’s like a brother to me, Gar.”

”A brother,” Garreth repeated.

”A brother who is very protective of me,” she chewed on her lower lip. “Especially around a boy who might like me.”

“Yeah,” Garreth breathed in sharply. “A boy who might like you very much.”

She started to trace a circle in the palm of his hand. “And if I’m to believe the confession he gave at breakfast this morning, a boy who might love me.”

Garreth gave her a weak smile. “It’s stupid, I know. We’ve hardly had time together, let alone to properly…uh, properly grow those feelings. But it’s true.”

”It’s not stupid.” She shook her head. “Not when I feel the same way.”

Garreth sat up straighter, sucking in sharply when he felt his head ringing. At this point he wasn’t sure if it was the wound or the blood pounding in his head from her own confession.

“You should lay down,” she said, coaxing him back into the bed. “I’ll lay next to you, okay?”

Garreth scooted over to the edge, letting her slip under the covers next to him. He felt as if he was dreaming—his wildest dreams coming true, having the object of his affections curled up into him a week before graduation? He pinched himself as they shuffled on the small bed frame, getting closer.

“You like me,” Garreth said slowly as the top sheet fell over their heads.

”I like you,” she affirmed. “Have for a while, actually.”

”Since when?” Garreth asked, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.

”Since the party at the end of fifth year,” she confessed. “When you let me try fizzing whizzbeer. You…uh, you put your arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. Said you couldn’t have done it without me.” Her face was pink, flushed from her own confession.

“Merlin, I’m an idiot.” Garreth groaned.

”Just a bit,” she snorted. “I tried to drop so many signs. Why else did you think I wanted to be your partner all the time in Astronomy?”

”Because I’m good at Astronomy?”

“Garreth, you’re terrible at it.” She chuckled. “I kept trying to cuddle up with you, but you were always speeding to get the star charts done as fast as possible so we could go to bed. I thought—I mean, I took that as a sign you weren’t interested.”

Garreth’s eyes widened. “That was why you kept wearing such thin cloaks to class?”

”I wanted you to put your arm around me.” She retorted.

Garreth tilted his head, putting two and two together. Now it made sense why she was always shivering, backing into him as they took their evening class. She’d once stepped right between his legs, her backside pressed right against—

Shit. He was an idiot.

”We’re bad at this flirting thing, aren’t we?” She tilted her head.

”Awful at it,” he moaned. He lifted his hand, letting it rest on her hip. She seemed to like it, melting into his touch.

”Sebastian was getting so frustrated hearing me whine about you.” She murmured. “I think that’s why he was pushing you so hard this morning. I think he and Ominis had a bet you’d say something before graduation, and Seb didn’t want to lose his galleons.”

”I’ll have to thank Sallow then,” Garreth pointed out. “For helping me across the finish line.”

“You shouldn’t, his head can’t stand to get any bigger than it already is.” She chuckled. Garreth could feel her breath on his cheeks, and his eyes fluttered at the sensation.

”So, you like me.” Garreth repeated. It felt like a mantra he had to repeat over and over again, lest it not be true.

”And you love me.” She said coyly, lifting her hand to touch his cheeks. When her finger brushed against his lips, he pressed a tentative kiss against them. ”You love me enough to save me a banana every morning.”

”It sounds silly, doesn’t it?” Garreth murmured, his grip tightening on her waist. She shifted closer to him, legs tangling between his.

She looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering as the hand on his cheek drifted upwards to touch the bandage around his head.

“Does it hurt?” She asked.

Garreth shook his head a little. “Just a scratch.”

“That’s a shame,” she pouted. “I was hoping to help you feel better.”

“Oh no,” Garreth blinked heavily. “Oh, it’s actually so painful.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Does it now?”

”So painful,” Garreth groaned, feigning dramatics. “I don’t know how I’ll ever carry on.”

Her hand snaked around his head, fingers threading through his copper hair. She scratched his scalp, and Garreth leaned into her touch in return.

“I’ll make it better,” she said coyly, nose brushing against his.

Garreth had kissed other girls before, but nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of kissing her. He just about moaned into her mouth when her lips touched his, melting into her touch. He immediately tried to roll over, to cage her underneath him against the mattress, but his body had other ideas.

”I can’t—“ Garreth huffed through gritted teeth, “roll over.”

She let out a breathy laugh in exchange. “Let me, then.” Her voice was low as she swung her leg over his lap, straddling him in his pajamas. She pulled the thin sheet over them, just the two of them under a cotton canopy. Garreth swore under his breath as she leaned over him, hair tickling his chin.

“Is that better?” She whispered.

Garreth grinned against her lips, his nose brushing against hers. “This just might heal me,” he murmured, arms circling around her waist to bring her in tight. She hummed approvingly when he nipped her lower lip, delicately licking into her mouth. Everything was new, yet it felt so right—every kiss she returned was just an affirmation that she felt the same way. She liked that he was silly. She liked that he was loud. She liked the way he saved her a banana in the morning, the way he’d lean his body against hers during the cold nights in the astronomy tower—

Maybe one day she might love him too.

The sheet went flying, exposing both of them to the cold hospital wing. Garreth blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the darkness; instead, Nurse Blainey materialized, holding a lamp with the world’s largest frown on her face.

”Young lady,” Blainey hissed. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?”

She quickly hopped off Garreth’s lap, taking the sheet with her as she slid off the bed. Garreth squeaked indignantly as the warmth of her body disappeared, pulling one of the pillows to hide the rather obvious erection she’d left him with. His partner in crime adjusted her dressing gown, giving Blainey an awkward smile as she patted down her hair.

”I just wanted to check in on Garreth, that’s all.” She said smoothly.

“And you thought it appropriate to crawl into his bed?” Blainey snapped.

She winced, scratching the back of her head. “I wanted to see if his bandage was still alright?”

“Nice try.” Blainey rolled her eyes. “You’re very lucky the two of you are of age, otherwise I’d have to call your aunt in, Mr. Weasley.”

”Oh come on,” Garreth whined. “It’s just a week before we graduate—“

”And I certainly don’t feel like filling out any detention paperwork at this hour.” Blainey hissed. “You, go back to your dormitory straight away. And Mr. Weasley, if you do not rest—“

”Right, right,” Garreth grumbled, sinking back into his mattress. “It won’t heal properly, and I’ll be stuck here longer.”

Garreth wanted to protest as she balled up the bedsheet, tossing it back into his lap. She gave him a sheepish smile, grabbing her wand from the stone floor. “Er, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Breakfast?” Garreth asked hopefully.

Her face flushed red, a smile blossoming on her lips as she backed away. “Yes, breakfast.”

Blainey cleared her throat, saying her name one more time. “If you don’t go back to your common room right away—“

”Alright, alright,” she rolled her eyes, walking backwards towards the entrance. She waved one last time before she turned on her heel, slippers thwacking against the floor as she made her escape.

Blainey looked down at Garreth, coughing as he tucked himself back into bed.

”You won’t tell my aunt, will you?” Garreth asked hesitantly.

”I should,” Blainey narrowed her eyes. “But I won’t. Your aunt has too much to worry about without having to find out you tried to deflower a young lady in the hospital wing.”

”I did not,” Garreth guffawed. “I would never!”

Blainey shrugged. “And at least your case gave me a good chuckle today. Your friend Mr. Prewett is correct. You will always be remembered as the boy who’d cracked his skull open slipping on a banana peel, after all.”

”Oh come on,” Garreth huffed as the matron walked away. “You’ve had to have seen worse cases.”

”Self-inflicted banana related wounds are a first,” Blainey snorted as she walked back to her office. “Go to bed, Mr. Weasley.”

Garreth fell back against the pillows, wincing slightly at the sting from his wound. He stared up at the ceiling, touching his lips. He hadn’t dreamt it—he’d held her in his arms, kissed her until she was breathless. Quite content, Garreth fell asleep with little effort.

He had breakfast to look forward to, after all.

“Good as new,” Nurse Blainey nodded, balling up the wad of bandages from Garreth’s wound.

”Oh, thank Merlin.” Aunt Matilda cooed. “I’m glad the skelegrow was able to sort out the skull fracture.”

Garreth averted his gaze as he glanced at his watch. The house elves had brought up a fresh uniform for him, so he at least wouldn’t have to stop at the Gryffindor dormitory. He tapped his brown boots against the floor as Nurse Blainey went through her concussion checklist once more.

”Can I please leave?” Garreth wheezed, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Breakfast is nearly over—“

”What has you in such a rush this morning?” Aunt Matilda asked, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“I just have friends I need to meet up with at breakfast,” Garreth said quickly.

Nurse Blainey snorted as she tapped her quill against her clipboard. “Right,” she drawled. “Friends.”

Garreth drummed his hands against the iron rail of the bed, nodding his head. “Yes, friends.” He repeated. “And I really, really don’t want to miss them.”

“Well, you’ve passed the test with flying colors,” Blainey checked the assessment. “No flying, floo travel, or apparating for the next forty eight hours. Overall, please limit any physical activity.” She waggled her eyebrows at Garreth, prompting a ferocious blush on his cheeks.

”Thank you,” Garreth said quickly, snatching his book bag from the edge of the bed. He could hear his aunt yelling after him as he scampered down the hall, feet drumming against the stairs as he made his way down.

”Garreth!” Aunt Matilda roared. “I can write you a note if you’re that worried about being late—“

”Gotta run,” he bellowed, skipping the last two steps. “See you later, Aunt Tilly!”

Despite Blainey’s instruction to limit his physical activity, Garreth had never run faster in his life. He nearly mowed down a pack of first years trying to scamper through the hallways, prefects and portraits yelling at him to slow down. He tore past both Natty and Leander, their mouths agape at their best friend making a fool out of himself yet again.

There would be plenty of time to explain later.

Garreth pushed the doors of the Great Hall open, panting as he doubled over, hands on knees. He scanned the Great Hall, praying to Merlin he would find a familiar face. The room was mostly empty, most of his fellow students off to their first classes of the day.

Except her. His heart thumped in his chest as he stood up straighter; she was perched on the Gryffindor table, sitting next to the fruit bowl. Like every morning, she had a half eaten banana in her hand.

Garreth willed himself to walk over, a big goofy grin on his face as he approached her. There was a twinkle in her eye as she leaned back on her elbows, appraising him.

”You look well rested,” she hummed, taking another bite. “Good as new.”

Garreth rubbed the back of his head. The injury was gone, the thatch of hair ant the spot of his wound already grown back thanks to Blainey’s tonic. “Better than ever,” he announced, setting his bag on the ground. “Are you going to finish that?”

She carefully peeled the fruit, breaking off a chunk to hand to Garreth. He took it gratefully, savoring the bite as she ate the rest. He cocked a brow when she folded up the peel into a neat square, tossing it onto the table.

”Have to be careful, you know.” She shrugged. “There was a guy in here just yesterday, cracked his skull slipping on a banana peel.”

Garreth rolled his eyes, snickering. “Very dangerous.” He tiptoed closer to her, his thighs pressed against her knees. He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking into her. “A fall like that might cause a head injury. Would make someone say some pretty crazy things.”

She snorted, tilting her chin up to face him. “I’m pretty sure you said you loved me before you slipped on the banana peel, Garreth.”

”I did,” Garreth admitted. “I love you.”

She didn’t have to say it back, he thought to himself. He was just happy it was out there, that she might reciprocate his feelings even fifty percent—

She grabbed his tie, tugging it to pull his face closer to hers. He could smell her perfume again, and the faint hint of banana on her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, and she pressed a delicate kiss to his lips. Garreth returned it eagerly, pulling his hands out of his pockets and resting them on the table as he leaned into her embrace. Her kiss was soft and sweet, a reassurance of her feelings for him. When they pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other’s, she smiled once more.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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A Worthy Trade

Summary: Garreth & Adelaide Weasley ready for the day, and Garreth ruminates on all of the Good in his life. Word Count: 2173 Rating: T A/N: Written for @garrethweasleyfest. My prompt used was Professor Gar. The inspiration to write left me entirely for basically a month straight, and this was actually meant to be a longer work. I might write a part two. We'll see what happens, and I hope you enjoy it for what it is anyway. HUGE thank you to @cuffmeinblack, @pluviowriting & @applinsandoranges for being so kind and encouraging. This wouldn't have happened without you! TW: Pregnancy, Pregnancy Mention

Hogsmeade was in top form when autumn descended upon it, Garreth had always thought. The vibrant hues and blue skies of summer giving way to overcast clouds and trees fading into brilliant reds and oranges and finally into nothing at all, when December came, and with it, linen-white blankets of snow. The florals that clung to the air beneath the summer sun dissipated with the bite of the autumn air, replaced with the scent of wood-burning smoke as the resident hearths were lit to chase away the cold, falling leaves dancing on the breeze and along the cobblestone streets. It all felt very much like home. Which is exactly where Garreth stood, half-drinking a tea now gone cold and scribbling notes into a journal that was stuffed as full as the mind of the man who filled its pages, splayed about on the kitchen countertop. The windows were open despite the roaring flames that crackled and popped in the fireplace, the curtains fluttering in the breath of an early morning wind. Garreth wasn’t fond of the curtains, to put it kindly, likely once a lovely ivory and now yellowed with age. Horribly outdated, and left behind by the home's previous owners but his wife had insisted they gave the place charm, so they had stayed, framing the old paned glass window that seemed to never be streak free no matter how often they scourgified. Garreth’s attention was drawn away from a scrawled note on adjusting the preparation of alihotsy to suit lesser needs (dried rather than chopped?), to their family cat outside the window, pouncing upon something hidden in the wilted and brittle remains of his wifes garden which had succumbed to the changing season. He thought he ought to clear it out, so it was ready for his wife to till and bring back to its usual glory the moment the ground thawed come spring. Or perhaps he ought to build her a proper greenhouse, so his green-thumbed wife could have all of the fresh produce and flowering blooms that she pleased, year-round. Adelaide would like that, he thought, and he knew Mr. Brown of Tomes & Scrolls carried the spellcrafts, and surely the materials would not break the bank with each of their comfortable salaries. With his face falling into an excitable grin that he swallowed with another glug of his tea, should his wife stumble in and catch him with one of his masterful plans, he scribbled a note to remind himself to stop by and visit Tom in the sparse open spaces of his journal after work.

Tea cup halfway to his lips, he watched with an amused grin as the cat bolted off again, into the dying brush and off to wreak havoc elsewhere. Hopefully, to The Magic Neep, where it had become a thorn in old Mr. Teasdale’s side. The usually jovial herbologist had blamed the small beast for the destruction of his fluxweed crop on more than one occasion. Garreth had tried to defend his wife's beloved feline, with the entirely logical deduction that there was no way the old man could prove it was indeed their family pet, but his wife had shushed him, offering apologies and promises to bring over some of her esteemed ginger cakes as recompense in order to keep the neighbourhood peace.

Saving the neighbourhood peace was growing to be one of Adelaide’s talents, helped by her enthusiasm for time spent in the heart of the home - the kitchen. Always delivering treats and sweets to their neighbours, and most often, Mr. Pippin, and of course on behalf of Garreth. Who had more than taken advantage of the short distance between their home and the potions shop, eager for spirited conversations with a man as enthusiastic about potions as he was. Only a small footbridge separated their home and the shop, and Garreth Weasley was as much a permanent accessory in the shop as the sign on the door, his wife soothing the scowl of its proprietor at his constant interruptions of his work with hot meals and warm pastries.

Adelaide Weasley was always welcome, and her husband was welcome in the way a father swears he doesn't care for the family pet, but never moves it from its nap when it curls up in his favourite chair.

Garreth had only just slipped the loose bits of parchment back between the pages of his journal, when his wife strolled into the kitchen, hair tied neatly behind her head in her usual plait, and fussing with the loose fabric of her blouse. He allowed his cup to fall into the hot, soapy water, mindless to the way it began to clean itself amongst the breakfast dishes, with his attention entirely on his beautiful wife and the contemplative scowl on her face.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight of her pulling her blouse over the soft swell of her stomach, concealing it away with the ruffles and lace. He leant against the sink with an amused grin, green eyes following the way she poked and prodded at herself.

“You know…” He began, with a strong arm reaching out to pull her close, wrapping her up in his embrace, his head instinctively tilting down to trail chaste kisses along the slope of her neck. “... You can’t hide our good news away forever, or else people may question where you’ve got a baby from when it arrives.” His tone was light, Teasing. Even if it took every ounce of his self-restraint to not take out the entire front page of the prophet to announce the news that they were going to be parents, Garreth respected his wife’s choice to delay the celebrations. It was her body in the end, though that didn’t save her from his affectionate jabs due to his own impatience in the safety and privacy of their own home.

He hummed happily, forehead resting where her shoulder met her neck when she reciprocated his lazy morning affections with her hands in his hair, a giggle fluttering from her lips as she kissed his temple.

“Yes, well. Evie said that once people know, they’ll be poking and prodding at me all of the time and I don’t fancy that much.”

Evie. Evangeline. His wife’s best friend from their days at school and who had two children of her own already, after having settled down with her childhood sweetheart the moment they had graduated. Adelaide seldom did anything without her ever-present companions counsel and when Garreth had proposed, he had half-expected his lovely bride-to-be to tell him to Hold That Thought whilst she ran off to ask for her friend's opinion on the matter.

(She hadn’t, and instead, the memory of her standing flushed and teary-eyed amongst the foxgloves and forget-me-nots whilst he slipped the modest ring on her finger during her gleeful acceptance of his self-proclaimed paltry offer would live at the forefront of his mind for the rest of his days.)

Now, it seemed the two had all the more to talk about now that his wife was well on her way to join her friend in motherhood. Garreth was grateful for the feminine support through his wife's first pregnancy, even if it called for a few interrupted meals whilst Adelaide explained in detail her varying symptoms to Evangeline’s head in the fireplace. “Mm. Well we don’t want you being poked by anyone other than me now do we?” Garreth chuckled; Smiling and savouring the lingering scent of lavender and bergamot from her shampoo as he brought himself back to height, pausing only to steal a kiss from her pouting lips, soothing her look of mild disapproval before helping her into her cloak. “Come on then, the young and impressionable minds of our students thirst for our wisdom.”

***

A choice to live within the faculty quarters of the school or to live outside of its majestic halls was given to each member of the general staff and faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Garreth had taken full advantage of the former during his first few years as a Professor, putting every knut that would have been spent on room and board away on a dream for a potions shop with his name on the front. Then Adelaide Oakes came gliding into the picture. A lovely little thing who was sweet and kind and laughed at all of his jokes. Even the ones he knew weren’t his very best work as he slumped over potions essays that had him feeling the slightest twinge of sympathy for the grizzled Auror that had once held his post (and who still haunted his nightmares every now and again when he was struggling with a more difficult brew).

Adelaide had transferred into the role of Magical Home Economics Professor, A class meant to prepare magical children for the mundane realities of living in a magical world, when the elderly Professor Spindle had finally thrown in the towel and retired to an island in the Gulf of Finland.

Garreth had only just settled into his fate in academia when Adelaide came around (Again. She so loved reminding him of all the classes and moments they had shared during their own schooldays that he had seemingly paid little mind too. He equally loved reminding her that his mind had been very busy becoming the next great potioneer thank you very much.) A year spent inside the castle he now called home for a second time, only this time, he was educating the next generation of magical minds in the world of cauldrons and brews.

Playful banter, a few shared butterbeers in the staff-room, a decidedly romantic candle-lit dinner at the Three Broomsticks and a terribly, terribly awkward disclosing of a workplace relationship to his own bloody Aunt later, and the rest was well and truly history. Garreth found himself lamenting the years he spent Not Noticing her whilst they attended school together. Missed opportunities of fumbling around in broom cupboards and blushing faces over sickly sweet teas at Steepleys. (Though Garreth had tried using his Weasley charm to coax his now wife into a broom cupboard rendezvous now and again when their days were especially dull, but his respectful wife had kept things firmly over-the-clothes.) He lamented, even, not taking his fathers job offer to work at the Ministry. If only because it may have put her in his path far sooner whilst she worked alongside her Uncle Rowland in the Goblin Liaison office. The money Garreth had tucked away inside of his vault at Gringotts had swiftly been reallocated to other worthwhile endeavours. Gifts and dinners out, weekend holidays and yearly passes to the Magical Arboreal Gardens in London. Everything a girl like Adelaide deserved when being courted. Then, the modest sum of gold had dwindled after a sweaty-palmed conversation with Rowland Oakes had given Garreth his blessing, and he bought her a ring. (Not nearly as grand as she deserved, but she had gasped and cried as she stared at it on her finger, so he must have done alright.) The rest of it disappeared with a wedding and a honeymoon, and the scant remains of the gold were scraped together with his brides and spent on their home.

More often than not, Garreth sat staring at the wall in the office he had spent much of his youth sneaking into, reminiscing on where his life had ended up – and deciding whether or not he regretted the choices he had made that had brought him here and now. His dreams of owning a potions shop seemed further away than ever before, though it still sat dormant in the back of his mind, and weaved its way between the lines of his journal. On a particularly optimistic day, He had even painstakingly filled out a patent application for his perfected Weasley’s Wonder Tonic. Though the high that had carried him through every line of legal jargon transfigured itself into a different sort of joy, when his wife had joined him in the little nook that served as his workstation, delicate hands holding her contraceptive potion and pink lips whispering “What if we started trying?” Garreth had beamed, A Winter Baby. Now wouldn’t that be nice? and took her blushing and giggling to bed. The application had been tucked away in the pages of his most private thoughts, and he barely paid it any mind. Thus, despite the dull longing that seemed to capture him on a Bad Day, the thought of his wife - bright-eyed and giggling by the fire, cheeks pink from the firewhiskey they had shared to celebrate their students surviving exam season their first year teaching together or the way she hummed The Enchanted Garden whilst she baked barefoot in the kitchen - soothed whatever doubts had crept their way into his mind, warming him faster than a pepper-up. Garreth Weasley had simply traded one dream for another, and would not trade a single moment, nor take a single step in another direction if offered the choice.

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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Garreth Weasley Fest

my #garrethweasleyfest24 submission- a short story titled:

I Told You So.

My prompt was: -Modern College! AU Academic rivalry

word count: 1164

FULL STORY BELOW! I hope you enjoy!!

“A new transfer student? And why should I care?” Garreth carefully added the last drop of Horklup juice into the cauldron, and watched as the whole thing turned pink. He grinned as he straightened back up, turning towards his ever present friend.

“They’re in your department-” Leander continued, “And they’re supposed to be something of a genius.”

“Again, why should I care?” He removed his goggles from his face, watching his potion out of the corner of his eye to make sure it didn’t boil over.

“Well I thought you might be interested to know about your new competition-” The other boy said with a smirk.

“Competition?! Please. You said the same thing when Cressida Bloom transferred to the Potions department, and look where she is now- gone. Back to Herbology where she belongs.”

“Which is also a great department.” Leander said, his tone a little hostile. He was in fact one of the representatives for his department.

“Of course mate-” Garreth reached out and placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “No one said that it wasn’t.”

He moved back over towards his work.

“But this-” he gestured to his work station “-this is where the real academic excellence is at!”

His potion had gone from pink to purple, and was now sending up waves of green smoke.

“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Leander asked, his nose scrunched up.

“Yup!” Garreth responded, putting his goggles back on.

After putting his eye protection back on he stirred the mixture counter clockwise for a minute, and then added the 3rd to last ingredient. With a pinch of ashwinder egg dust the liquid turned back to pink, but with a much more vibrant hue. Then the smoke turned gray and clouded around them like a storm. This was turning out exactly as he wanted it.

“Well you should be careful nonetheless. Even if you think you’re above the new student you might find yourself slipping with a rival prodding at you from down below.”

Garreth ignored him, continuing to finish his work. Once he added the pearl dust and rose petals it would be just about-

“You shouldn’t add those two together-” a voice said from the other side of his work station.

Both boys looked up, a person barely visible in the haze of his potions vapors.

Garreth scoffed. “And who are you to tell me that? As far as I can see you aren’t a professor.”

He was annoyed at this random person for trying to correct him, but honestly he hoped that it wasn’t a professor- he couldn’t really tell between the goggles and smoke. He only had one female professor though and he was pretty sure this random girl wasn’t her.

“Well both of those are very powerful ingredients when it comes to making a love potion- which is what I assume you are working on by the smoke. If you add them both it may not turn out how you would like it.”

He scoffed again. “Just because everyone else is too small minded to add them both doesn’t mean that it's not going to turn out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish working on my thesis.”

“Suit yourself-” And he watched through the smoke as she grabbed a large tray and held it over her person. What was that all about?

Garreth shook himself of the annoying girl and focussed back on his potion. He was a little bit more annoyed though as he noticed Leander take a step back from him. Ugh, everyone here just didn’t understand his genius.

He grabbed his ingredients again; one in each hand. Then he sprinkled each onto opposite ends of the cauldron just like he had read about. Adding them at the same time was risky, yes, but if he got this to work he would be able to create the strongest love potions in the world- theoretically. It's just that both needed to settle before they came in contact with each other. If they stayed separate then the potions would become twice as strong, but if they didn’t-

A huge BOOM sounded right before him, causing his ears to ring. Then immediately after the entire contents of his potions blasted out of his cauldron- spraying everything within a 2 foot radius. Garreth dropped to the ground, the failed love potion coating his entire person.

He heard muffled screams of surprise from all around him, but his ears weren’t quite working yet. He tried to look around, but everything was just a big pink and sticky mess. Then he reached up to grab his goggles, slippery from the potions. He took them off, tossing them to the side in frustration.

Garreth was going to attempt to get up, when the person holding the now pink tray brought down their shield. His eyes went wide as he saw her clearly for the first time. She had curly black hair that was tied up in two buns at the top of her head, two strands pulled out and hanging at her face. There was a pair of goggles similar to his own (minus the pink) that she brought off her face and up to her head. Her eyes were a bright beautiful brown that perfectly matched the hue of her skin. She was by far the prettiest girl he had ever seen and she… was saying something to him.

“WHAT??” he called out, his voice sounding muffled in his own head.

She rolled her eyes and he saw her pull out her wand and move it around above the pink goo that now coated his work station. He tried to get to his feet, but slipped around a few times before he got a grip on the edge of the table. By the time he was standing again she was already gone.

“I should have moved farther back-” Leander’s voice said from behind him. It was still more muffled than usual but the ringing had stopped so Garreth could make it out. Garreth turned towards him, seeing that his friend’s t-shirt had been sprayed pink.

“Leander-” he said, moving to grab onto his arms. The other boy made a disgusted face as Garreth’s pink hands made prints on him. “Who was that girl??”

“Girl?”

“Yes! The one who was holding the tray!”

Leander smirked, and removed Garreth’s hands. He brushed off the handprints as much as he could before he looked back up at him.

“Well funny enough, that’s who I was telling you about.”

“What?” Garreth said, his head tilted.

“That-” Leander pointed towards where the girl had gone. “Was your new rival.”

Garreth looked up with wide eyes and then quickly turned back to his station. He made his way over to his cauldron, slipping but not falling into the pink mess below his feet. He leaned over the top of the table, looking to where she had left her message. Then he smirked as he read aloud-

I told you so.

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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Sticky Toffee Pudding

Summary: In which a failed experiment leads to an unfortunate circumstance, lots of pudding, a judgy Kneazle and em dashes.

My prompts I received: Garreth catches feelings from a FWB, Amnesia, (Garreth gets knocked out by one of his own potions exploding, gets amnesia), Future/Post Game

Word Count: 2,374

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

Rating: T (Teen) for mild swearing, innuendos, and shenanigans

A/N: I really do love Leander Prewett (I think he's personally the sweetest in their group of friends but you know... tease the sweet one). I had mixed a thing of SFW FWB and amnesia in this.

Many thanks to @cuffmeinblack and @ellivenollivander for hosting the 2024 Garreth Weasley Fest. Without further ado:

Read on: [AO3] [Wattpad]

~~~***~~~

It should be noted that Garreth Weasley was no stranger to accidents. Particularly those he was the center of. He had been trouble since birth, as his mother liked to recall—always toddling off, hands grasping, and head poking into the most unusual and most perilous of places.

He had on more than one occasion climbed to the top of the tree in the Weasley yard— only to be chased down and stung by several bees into the house. In another, his attempts to help his family be rid of the garden gnomes had led him on a long chase down tunnels and into a den of not garden gnomes but nifflers.

Upon seeing the stores of gold, his little hands grabbed two fistfuls into his pockets to take home— only for his mum to wake the house screeching the following morning at being accosted by a family of nifflers at the door.

In those instances, his mum had not been happy.

So, it was not an unusual occurrence for him to wake in a beige room, covered in a beige blanket, and staring at the beige and peeling ceiling of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries above him. Nor was it an odd sight for him to stir and groan at the heavy weight of fur atop his chest— purring its ill opinion of Garreth’s latest potion project with each slow swish of its tail.

“Butters…”

“Mrow.”

A gift for his too little brain as his beloved elder sister jested. But while Butterbeer the Kneazle did very little in the way of improving his common sense and knowledge (he had books and three years' worth of apprenticeship under Professor Sharpe thank you very much), Butters more than made up for Garreth’s lack of impulse and self-preservation by always, always being the first beady little eyes, he saw.

However, beady eyes that glared and judged were not what discomforted Garreth as he sat up. It was, in fact, a certain hollowness inside when he caught sight of the figure at the foot of the bed.

Ominis Gaunt.

It was not the first he had seen the second son of the Gaunt family—they had, after all, been schoolmates. But the curve of Ominis’ face and the catch of the sun in his hair made Garreth’s heart thump, his blood pound in his ears, and his mouth run dry.

“Garreth?”

~~~***~~~

Memories, as one of those poets Sebastian Sallow liked to recall, were painful experiences. At least the forgotten ones. And while Garreth Weasley never placed too much stock in sage wisdom from any Sallow, he thought such a saying was very true in this instance.

He should have taken no issue or concern that very few memories were currently lost to him. He knew his name, what year it was, that Headmaster Black still terrorized Hogwarts, and he had kept all the happy moments with his long-time friends and family in between.

Healer Dagworth insisted that the rest of the newer memories would return in time.

They were friends— or so Ominis said— just friends.

Just friends, however, did not endeavor to sit by his side, fretting until he woke. Just friends didn’t knock on his door every afternoon to say hello. And just friends didn’t— wouldn’t— smile politely when there were memories he couldn’t quite recall.

Never mind that Leander Prewett and Andrew Larson had done the same.

But Garreth had seen it— was sure of it— the downward twitch of Ominis’ smile each afternoon when he gaped in silence.

It hurt Ominis.

And, in turn, it hurt him.

“It’ll come—”

“—with time,” Garreth finished for Leander as he and Andrew walked in through his door.

Face still flushed as he stared down the corridor at Ominis’ shut door, he sighed and groaned.

“Why don’t you… oh, I don’t know— ask him,” Andrew snorted, pulling a bottle of mead from the Leaky Cauldron and summoning three goblets from Garreth’s cupboard.

“Oh, sure— it wasn’t at all awkward at St. Mungo’s having no idea we were friends or what he was doing in my room—”

“Not his fault your next thought was to scream like a banshee.”

“Or that you had forgotten he lived across the way.”

“Or that Butters likes him.”

“Butters likes anybody—” Garreth protested.

“Butters only likes Weasleys,” Andrew said, smirking at the sputter from Garreth as he fought to bite down Ominis’ name.

“What don’t I know, Larson?”

“We only know as much as you, Garreth Weasley. Why? Forgot to share something with the class?”

“Oi! Of course, he forgot!” Leander frowned.

Andrew sighed, “Spoken like a man who thought to recommend himself to his future wife by being beat at Summoner’s Court.”

“And look where that got me,” Leander chuckled fondly.

Two children and another on the way— Garreth thought as he watched his friends bicker.

Despite the odd circumstances in which Leander had wooed his lady love, they were happy and Garreth had never admitted he wanted the same— someone who understood him, cherished his peculiarities, and laughed with him.

Ominis Gaunt had not seemed that person. At first.

But where any living creature would have drawn back and run at his screaming (or, in Butters’ case, jumped and hissed), Ominis stayed. He hadn’t run. Instead, he simply arched a brow, whispered a few comforting words to Butters before laying him back atop Garreth’s chest and turned to call for a healer and his mum.

“Like the healers said— give it time,” Leander smiled softly.

He sighed and groaned again, burrowing his head into his arms at the dining table at the thought. How much more did he have to wait?

“Or,” Andrew smirked, “You could pretend to remember.”

“That,” Garreth growled through gritted teeth, “Is a stupid idea.”

~~~***~~~

Stupid idea or not, desperate times called for desperate measures when he spied Ominis outside his window, laughing and speaking to none other than Hector Fawley. The git.

And so, Garreth Weasley found himself at Ominis’ door, bearing a dish of pumpkin sticky toffee pudding, his homemade fizzing whizbeer, and what he was sure was the most deplorable smile Butters ever had the misfortune of seeing.

“What? It's pudding. Everyone likes pudding,” he mumbled— shooting a glare at the Kneazle behind him.

“Mrow.”

“It’s a brilliant piece of pudding.”

“Mrow.”

The slow swish of his tail and pointed stare did little to ease Garreth’s nerves. What if he didn’t like pumpkin? What if he didn’t like pudding at all? He could feel the heat flare under his collar while his ears strained for the telltale hint of footsteps beyond her door. Pudding was a classic. Pumpkin sticky toffee pudding, though…

He faltered, cleared his throat, nodded, and turned. But before he could step back into his flat and convince himself that not just anyone could like pumpkin sticky toffee pudding, the creak of Ominis’ door made him pause.

“Garreth?”

“Om—Ominis! Fancy seeing you here!”

He nodded, a slow curve etching on his lips at the wrinkle of his nose. “Yes— quite a shock. I'm home at half past ten. On a Wednesday.”

“Yes– y–yes! I quite knew that!” He swallowed and felt sweat drip down his temple—Merlin, he was an idiot. He shouldn’t have listened to Larson. “I knew that!”

“Did you, now?” Ominis asked, one brow arched and that twitch of a smile on his face.

“Yes?” He stammered and then grinned, “Yes.”

“And you brought pudding.”

“Yes,” Garreth swallowed tightly, “Pumpkin sticky toffee pudding.”

“My favorite…”

It was a whisper, etched along Ominis’ smile and shoulders and Garreth wondered if it was too late to turn back. He wanted this but not like this.

Garreth held his breath as he pushed the plate into Ominis’ arm, the tingle and brush of Ominis’ fingers over his sending a shiver to coarse through him.

He counted it— the seconds that seemed to stretch into minutes and hours as though time seemed to stop and the only thing that held his resolve and need to pull Ominis into his arms was the plate of sticky pudding.

“Ominis…” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You…you— the pudding will get cold.”

Screaming banshees and Merlin’s balls, Garreth bit back a groan and cursed whatever gods who thought to bestow him Leander Prewett’s charm.

“Well then,” Ominis chuckled, “Won’t you come in?”

~~~***~~~

Pretending, Garreth Weasley realized, is the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He had never been particularly good at masking his lies— mumbling and fumbling over himself in front of his Aunt Matilda and the Headmaster at school. He had been boisterous and bold— too lofty in his ideals and future according to his fellow peers.

And pretending around Ominis Gaunt? It was a failure waiting to happen. Not because Garreth was not certain Ominis would ever find out. No— Ominis was too clever for such simple trickery (and much too polite to point out Garreth’s stuttering). No— the unsuccessful nature of Garreth’s ruse lay with himself.

He didn’t want to pretend.

He didn’t enjoy the idea of not knowing.

He didn’t and Garreth Weasley was not fond of not doing.

So, he watched and counted the days he spent with Ominis Gaunt, hoping each greeting and a plate of pudding will spark a memory.

The first night, they shared the plate of pudding with a glass of his fizzing whizzbeer. It tickled and tingled right down to his stomach until he felt flush and much too warm beneath his jumper.

The second night, they shared it with glasses of port. The faint smell of cigars and pine on Ominis left Garreth sighing and sleepy on his sofa. When he woke in the dead of night, he found himself wrapped in a knitted blanket that smells faintly of Ominis and himself— and Garreth suppressed a groan and shifted himself before quietly leaving the flat.

The third, they had water and a pint of coffee ice cream from the new shop in Diagon Alley. These, Garreth thought, should have been crisp and innocent enough to stay the blush he was sure had crept up to his ears in the last two weeks. But ice cream looked and sounded decadently sinful on Ominis’ lips.

The fourth night, there’s pudding. But it sat in the middle of dishes of warm potato gratin, stew, and homemade bread. It doesn’t remain forgotten very long when Ominis decided to have dessert before his meal and Garreth found that the twinkle of his laugh, hidden behind mouthfuls of pudding is melodic and soothing. He liked it and wanted to hear it more.

The fifth night, Garreth decided, is the worst night of all. They sat together on the sofa, sharing stories of Hogwarts. Thinking that sharing a plate of pudding beside each other would have granted Garreth some reprieve from watching the trickle of ice cream run along Ominis bottom lip, Garreth had not accounted for the brush of Ominis’ leg on his. Nor did he relish his strained laughter when he pulled away to stand and stretch.

“Same time tomorrow?” Ominis asked, lingering in the doorway as Garreth fished for his keys.

“Can’t,” he lied, the words tasting bitter as it left his mouth, “Work.”

“Ah,” is all Garreth had gotten before the sound of Ominis’ door shut and clicked behind him.

“Mrow.”

“Yes, I know… I’m an idiot.”

The sixth night— there’s pudding. And it’s the most awful, foul, and loneliest thing he’s ever tasted. If pudding could be lonely. The pudding isn’t finished and the half-eaten monstrosity is pushed away before Garreth locks himself in his potions room for the night.

The seventh night, there’s no pudding. Garreth stood at Ominis’ door bearing only himself in his best dress robes and fiddled with his hands. He had ever intention to apologize and grovel and he thinks and thinks and thinks of the words he’d say until all his thoughts and all he saw was Ominis—bathed in light and looking just as bewildered as he. Garreth opened his mouth, reached down to the depths of his soul to offer his most sincere apology:

“I’m Garreth… Garreth Weasley.”

With a bite of his cheek at Ominis’ arched brow, Garreth stifled a moan of despair, and prepared to run from the silence when Ominis simply straightened and smiled.

“Well, Mr. Weasley— I’m Ominis. Ominis Gaunt.”

It’s all Ominis needed to say before Garreth began stammering and blabbering about Larson and his stupid plan and what an utter moonmind he is (Garreth, not Larson, because what manner of sensible and humane person would’ve taken such suggestion—not Ominis, he’s sure).

And he’s left gasping and aching for breath—desperate and wanting to continue despite the singular fact that no line of reason would ever be enough to make amends and he’s utterly, irrevocably damned.

Damned to dream.

Damned to wish.

And damned to the heavens and earth to want this man before him.

Ominis could only reach for him—trembling and hopeful. And when Garreth was sure they both stood, clutched in each other’s arms with bated breath did he take the next move and kiss him.

There is no pudding that night. Only slow touches and languid kisses to commit each other to memory.

In the morning, Garreth woke first, stealing a kiss or two before they ambled toward the kitchen. A plate of pudding sat on the dining table—half-eaten and burnt.

“It’s not the same,” Ominis said sheepishly, “Horrid really.”

“Doubtful!” Garreth laughed, moving to grab the plate much to Ominis’ dismay and downed the leftover half. It’s bitter and cold—the hard crunch of the burnt pieces giving way to small pieces of caramel. He paused mid chew, swallowed, and set the plate down with a soft clink.

“I told you, it’s not the same as yours.”

“No,” Garreth whispered and kissed him, “But it’s yours. Always has been.”

Garreth Weasley knows he will never be a stranger to the misfortunes of his accidents, particularly those he knew Ominis Gaunt will be the center of. Because despite all the peculiarities and mess that made him… well, him—they always had pudding.

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

Text

Who Else But You?

Garreth Weasley x f!OC (Adanna Egwe)

Tags: Yule Ball | fluff | friends to lovers

11k words | ao3 link

Summary: The news of a Yule Ball sends ripples of excitement throughout Hogwarts' seventh years, though Garreth Weasley is less than enthused. Mandatory dance lessons are also an unwelcome distraction from his experimental brews and upcoming exams.

Though perhaps having his best friend as a partner might make the ordeal less excruciating...

A friends to lovers story, told in part by Garreth's diary entries.

If you prefer to read the diary entries in plain text, head on over to ao3!

A/n: For @garrethweasleyfest 2024! Prompt chosen: Yule ball practice lessons. Credit to @ellivenollivander for the title <3 This is essentially a Salvation AU, in which the Yule Ball is a catalyst for Garreth and Adanna to admit their feelings for each other. You don't have to have read Salvation! But Adanna is my OC from that fic, and there's also a cameo from another prominent character...

Garreth had turned the dormitory upside down, inside out and back to front, and was no closer to finding his precious journal. He'd checked his trunk a dozen times, though he would never have stored it there amongst the various semi-combustible substances. He'd contemplated that perhaps he'd been sleepwalking and misplaced it—it had been known to happen—and so searched his roommates’ belongings, too. Between the piles of trinkets, sweets and magazines of dubious content, he was still left empty handed and growing increasingly anxious at the prospect of the little leatherbound book making its way into the wrong hands. His innermost thoughts laid bare; secret recipes ripe for the taking. He chastised himself for not placing a tampering charm on it and fled the dormitory.

Bounding down the stairs, his next port of call would be the common room, and then he would scour the rest of the castle if necessary. But he didn't have to look much further, for Garreth spotted it as soon as he jumped off the final stair, clutched in the arms of the enemy. It could have been any old book, if not for the myriad potion stains and the G.W. stamped large across the front. The gold initials winked at him from across the room, beckoning him closer, crying a silent plea of ‘save me!’.

How had Cressida managed to slip it from his grasp—a book he carried everywhere—without him noticing? She didn't hide the subterfuge, leaning against the side of a sofa and reading the contents with a faint scowl on her face like one might peruse a textbook. Garreth slipped through the crush of students returning from dinner, long strides bringing him to her side before he'd formed a coherent idea of what he wanted to say. What came out of his mouth was a garbled mess of words and possibly a few expletives as he snatched the journal from her hands. Cressida made no attempt to stop him, only looked up at him with bored disinterest; a far cry from the kind of looks she'd been giving him the past few weeks. He supposed she had read the diary entries that contained his unfiltered thoughts on her, but Garreth felt absolutely no sympathy given the blatant invasion of his privacy.

“What in Merlin's bloody breeches do you think you're doing with my journal?” he finally managed to ask.

Garreth had tried to mutter it under his breath, but still he drew attention from various students around him, a few quiet titters echoing behind his back. He felt his cheeks burning as Cressida crossed her arms, still scowling, now adding a pout to the mix. She seemed to be under the impression that it was her who had been wronged.

“You could have just told me no, Garreth. Instead I had to find my answers in your journal!”

“That's why you took it? Because I've not asked you to the ball?” Garreth replied incredulously.

“That, and I saw my name. I think I have a right to know what you're saying about me.”

“You have no right to my private thoughts. And besides, this is the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it rather?”

“What do you mean?”

Of course, she had no idea that he'd read her diary in fifth year—but who hadn’t? The pages had flown around the library for quite some time before they were returned to her, and by then their contents had made the rounds of the Hogwarts rumour mill.

“You made some particularly unfair observations about me in your own diary, if I recall.”

Cressida was now standing in front of him, a head shorter, and the pair were drawing quite the crowd. Eyes remained averted but the room was far too quiet given how many people filled it, the silent lurkers doing an unsubtle job of listening to the argument.

“You…how did you…?”

“Well they were flying around the library for anyone to read, Cressida.”

She blanched, fists clenched at her sides. She reminded Garreth of a teapot who's water was approaching boiling point, ready to start clattering and whistling with steam coming from her ears.

“How dare you!”

“I suppose we're even then? We both know exactly what the other thinks of each other.”

“Yes, now I understand exactly why you don't want to take me to the Yule Ball. I knew you had a thing for Adanna.”

“What? That's not—”

“Please, Garreth.”

Cressida’s blush had crept all the way to her hairline by now, both as mortified as the other. Garreth was busy spluttering his denials whilst she stepped around him, ready to flee to the safety of her dormitory, but she turned to say one last damning thing before her disappearance.

“There's no point in denying it, Garreth. Especially to her.” She bit her lip, showing the first hint of regret for her actions. “She knows now.”

Garreth gaped at the back of her head for a long while, right until the hem of her robe disappeared up the staircase. What did she mean? He wanted to shout, but Cressida would be sequestered safely in the girls’ dormitory by now, any answers barricaded inside along with her. He stood in dumbfounded silence enduring the lingering gazes and laughter around him, a faint nausea descending upon him as realisation dawned that Adanna had read his words. There was nothing sordid or explicit in his journal, but one didn't have to read much between the lines to realise that Garreth had surrendered to his attraction. The consequences could be disastrous. He flew into a panic.

Gathering the offending book into his arms, he moved to flee the common room in search of Adanna, but was met by a gangly, immovable object with a wrinkled brow.

“Where are you going?” Leander asked. “Already missed dinner and now you're running off again?”

“What are you, my mother?” Garreth huffed, peering around Leander's shoulders towards the common room door.

“You and Adanna are both being very odd…”

“What do you mean?” Garreth asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

“She was very quiet during dinner. Decided to sit with her own house and looked rather solemn.”

Garreth swallowed the lump forming in his throat, his heart now thumping wildly behind his ribcage. This was precisely the reaction he had feared, ever since contemplating more with Adanna all those years ago. He'd buried the notion for fear of ending a friendship too precious; only this damned ball had dragged every deep rooted desire to the surface. What his journal entries hadn't captured were how he longed for their dance lessons, for the opportunity to be alone with her; to hold her waist as if she were his, losing himself in her earthen eyes. But his scribblings had clearly been enough.

“I have to go,” Garreth muttered to a baffled Leander, rushing out of the room.

The journey down to the Hufflepuff common room was simultaneously the longest of Garreth's life and yet not nearly enough time to contemplate what he wanted to say. Should he deny the allegations? Tell Adanna that the journal had been tampered with by a vengeful Cressida? Despite all she'd done, Cressida didn't deserve a reputation built on a lie—which only left Garreth with the truth. It was such a terrifying prospect that it took him several minutes of staring at the great oak doors next to the kitchens before he mustered the courage to enter.

He'd been to the Hufflepuff's underground dwellings so many times over the years that he need not ask for help entering—he tapped the barrel (worn old from years of use) in the rhythm to the house founder's name, careful not to miss a syllable lest he wanted to face Adanna smelling of vinegar.

Most Hufflepuffs didn’t even bat an eye when Garreth came to visit—he liked to think he was a honourary member of their house, as Adanna slotted so seamlessly into his own. He greeted a few classmates, and Adelaide was kind enough to fetch Adanna from the girls’ dormitory for him, after he’d answered a few questions about Leander’s dress robes.

“I want to match, but black isn’t really my colour,” she sighed, before disappearing with a light skip in her step.

If only Garreth’s own Yule Ball anticipation was as carefree as Adelaide’s; worrying about his ghastly robes instead of alienating his best friend.

When Adanna appeared, Garreth held his breath, searching frantically for the words he wanted to say—but none appeared. He suddenly became aware of every muscle in his body, his posture, the arrangement of his features. Suddenly awkward in his own skin, he gripped his journal tighter as she approached, her gaze landing on the bundle in his arms. She looked neither happy nor sad to see him, only anticipatory. When she stood only an arm’s length away from him, waiting, he finally gasped for breath.

“Hello,” he said, rather pathetically.

“Hello.” Adanna chewed her lip, as she often did when nervous.

He was making her nervous, and subsequently felt like the world’s biggest arse. Looking for a secluded spot amongst the shrubbery, he tilted his head and guided her away from the groups of lingering students. He wasn’t sure he could bear another public spectacle.

“Did you…get a visit from Cressida by any chance?” he asked, brushing a stray fern frond from his face.

“I did,” she replied, averting her eyes. “She shouldn’t have taken your journal. I tried to stop her, but she was so insistent that I read—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? They were your private thoughts.”

Garreth cast his own eyes downward, hating every second of this confrontation. “I never thought you would ever find out, Ada.”

“Did you mean them?”

Words were spilling out of him like vomit now, a build up of nervous energy cascading without end. “I’ve always found you beautiful, from the day we met. And it was hard to ignore those feelings, but I thought I’d finally got the hang of it until all of this Yule Ball madness. I kept thinking about that night in the clocktower. Not in a sordid way, mind you, it’s just that it felt so right with you in my arms. I can’t really explain the feeling—like a puzzle piece slotting into place, or finding the perfect ingredient for a tricky brew. I suppose I had an epiphany, about you—about us.” He couldn’t stop himself, this confession, or whatever it was. Adanna stood still with her lips slightly parted as if to interrupt, but she let him ramble on against his better judgement until he finally ran out of steam. “So yes, I meant them. Every word.”

She didn’t reply right away, but her eyes glistened so wondrously in the warm glow of the common room that Garreth was content to just watch her parsing his words, hoping beyond all hope that she somehow felt the same. He hadn’t come here to tell her any of this, only to apologise for her ever finding out in the first place, and to perhaps mitigate the worst of the damage. His plan hadn’t quite worked out that way. Standing in front of Adanna with his heart fit to burst, he couldn’t bring himself to brush off his affections, to downplay just how much he cared for her beyond the platonic. It was now or never, he supposed—speak now, or forever hold his peace.

“I—,” Adanna started, then paused, breathless, as if only now remembering that she could talk “—feel the same.”

“What?” Garreth asked dumbly, sure that he’d misheard.

“I think about it, too.”

Then she smiled, and the fear and doubt that roiled in his stomach seemed to arch like a cresting wave before dissipating completely, leaving only a warmth that tingled from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His eyes prickled, his face cracking into a wide grin—nothing could have prepared him, and nothing would compare.

“So, will you go to the ball with me? Properly, this time.”

Tentatively, he reached out and took her hand, careful not to disturb this new and precious harmony. Small, delicate fingers, slipping perfectly into his own.

Adanna nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Hah! Who’s the idiot now, Leander?” Garreth chuckled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

~*~

How does one navigate the murky transition of friends to…well, something more? Garreth supposed there wasn’t exactly a handbook detailing procedures, but nor did the current state of affairs feel quite right. As if stuck in some awkward limbo, he and Adanna didn’t quite know what to do with themselves before the Yule Ball that evening. He’d not technically asked for anything more than for her to accompany him to said ball, and certainly not outright asked for her to be his girlfriend or anything of the sort—a glaring mistake in hindsight.

During the term’s final lessons they had cast each other furtive glances, exchanged sweet, knowing smiles that spoke of desire and longing that neither seemed able to act upon. They touched more often; a brush of knuckles here, a press of knees there. Their friends knew only that they would attend the ball together, everything else a suspicion. Only Garreth could manage to profess his feelings for a woman and leave out such an important question. He’d meant it implicitly, but when it came to matters of the heart, one couldn’t be too clear.

He would remedy the situation later that evening—once seeing to an important familial duty.

“Why can't we go to the ball?” Charlotte asked for what might have been the dozenth time that morning.

Her pout was pronounced as she dragged her satchel towards the crimson train idling in Hogsmeade station. Hector walked alongside Garreth with both Weasley siblings’ trunks, not nearly as put out as his sister but nevertheless envious at the prospect of glimpsing the Ministry's ‘special guest’. Garreth's younger brother and sister would be heading home a day early; only sixth and seventh years were permitted to attend the Yule Ball.

“I'm sure they'll hold another one when you're older, Charlotte,” Garreth replied, levitating the two trunks inside the idling carriage.

All around them were similarly despondent faces; young students who wished to experience the magic of the infamous celebration. Faculty members helped to board the youngest as friends rushed to find the best seats on the Hogwarts Express for the hours-long voyage back to London. Hector spotted a few of his fellow fifth year Gryffindors and was off, only a half-hearted backwards wave to say goodbye.

Charlotte lingered, fingers picking at the top of her trunk.

“You'd better board. Look, there's erm…Constance?” Garreth said, pointing towards a small, mousy first year along the platform.

“Catherine!” Charlotte corrected. “Will you tell me all about the ball when you come home for Christmas?”

“Of course I will—”

“Is Adanna coming with you?”

Garreth frowned at yet another thing he'd neglected to ask her. “Maybe. Her dad is coming back to the country though.”

Charlotte sighed again, looking wistfully back at the castle. “I bet she'll look beautiful.”

Yes, I suppose she will, Garreth thought, suppressing a grin.

“Come on, get on the train,” he urged her as the train whistled and the clock ticked by, urgently approaching nine o'clock.

Charlotte finally relented, clambering onto the train with her trunk which had been enchanted with a featherlight charm. Her scrawny little arms were surprisingly strong, but she had insisted on packing her entire belongings for the two weeks holiday.

“See you tomorrow!” Garreth called after her as the final whistle blew, doors snapping shut, locks clicking into place.

And then Garreth was left with the lingering siblings and faculty, staring off into the highlands as the train became a distant speck. Duty taken care of, he returned to the castle to await the ball.

Festivities would start at eight o’clock, giving everyone enough time to eat before dressing for the occasion. The Great Hall would be sealed off after lunch and platters of food brought to the common rooms for the remaining students whilst they prepared; donning robes, styling hair and whatever else needed to be done.

Garreth felt woefully unprepared. He strided at a brisk pace back to Gryffindor tower, catching tantalising glimpses of decorations being moved through the castle. Christmas trees and holly garlands had lined the halls for weeks now, but whatever Headmaster Black had planned (or demanded of his aunt), involved gilded cages of various birds; mottled wings and soft grey feathers ruffled against the tiny red-breasted varieties that Garreth recognised.

He was curious, to be sure, but now that term had ended and distractions were few and far between, Garreth found himself uncharacteristically nervous. It would be a momentous occasion—not for the finery or important guests, but to be spending it with Adanna in an unmistakably romantic setting. The thought was enough to churn the remnants of his breakfast, a loud gargle echoing through the now almost empty common room.

“Hungry again, Gar?” Natty quipped from her armchair perch. She sat with her feet curled under her, a book resting on her knees.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m starting to regret the second helping of eggs.”

“That is not like you to regret food. Are you alright? You look quite…twitchy.”

She was right. Garreth had been shuffling backwards and forwards as they talked, hands stuffed into his pockets and flapping like an overactive diricawl.

“I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t think about anything until this ball is over with.”

“Are you not excited?” Natty asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“I am, but…I have no idea what I’m doing.”

A point proven when Leander came practically skipping up to his side, clutching a small box, neatly wrapped in decorative paper and tied with red ribbon. He was flushed, giddy almost, and just as ‘twitchy’ as Garreth.

“All ready for tonight? Gods, I’m excited. Do you think Adelaide will wear her hair up or down? I don’t suppose it matters,” he babbled, fiddling with the edge of the ribbon and making it fray with his fidgeting fingers. “Oh, I asked the girls and they’ll meet us in the entrance hall at eight.”

Garreth blinked. “Uh, right.”

Yes, he was woefully unprepared. Too distracted by this weird, new dynamic between himself and Adanna that he’d entirely neglected the finer details of the evening.

“Shit.”

“Garreth!” Natty hissed. Once realising that there were in fact no pure and innocent little first years to corrupt with his expletives, she sighed. “What is wrong?”

“I haven’t thought about tonight at all. I thought it would be enough to just show up, you know? My robes are a disaster, and what is that?” Garreth spluttered, pointing to the box Leander was clutching so tightly.

“Just a little something for Adelaide. I thought a gold hairpin to match my tie—”

“See! I haven’t got Ada anything!” Garreth threw up his arms, panic finally setting in.

“I’m sure she won’t be expecting a present, I just thought it would be nice—”

“Yes, you thought. And all I’ve done is worry about whether or not I should tell her she’s beautiful, or kiss her hand when I see her.”

Natty gave Garreth a soft smile and tilted her head in a way that suggested he’d inadvertently said something endearing in his garbled stream of consciousness.

“Well, not much we can do about your robes, they are hideous—”

“Thanks, Leander.”

“—but it’s not too late to get her a gift.”

“Well, it’s a bit late to pop into Hogsmeade,” Garreth grumbled. “But she does always like the flowers I pick for her…”

“She would love a corsage, to match the flowers in her hair,” Natty offered.

Glancing at the great grandfather clock in the corner of the room, Garreth supposed he had a good couple of hours before lunch in which to gather some suitable flowers. Being December in the Scottish highlands, there wasn’t much in the way of flora and fauna sprouting in Hogwarts’ expansive grounds, only a smattering of hellebores and cyclamen offering their colour amongst the bare branches and fallen leaves. But of course, Garreth was awfully used to procuring what he needed from the school supplies. He might have been banned from Sharp’s stores, but Professor Garlick was much more forgiving when it came to sneaking a few extra leaves here and there—she also happened to share Adanna’s love of mundane plants.

“Do you think Garlick would give me a few flowers?” Garreth wondered.

Leander chuckled. “I reckon she’d give you a whole shrub if you told her it was for one of her favourite students.”

~*~

Garreth made the final touches to the corsage by late afternoon. It had been finicky work; not something he’d have trusted to do with magic. His fingers had suffered multiple lacerations from the thorny rose stems before he stripped them off, then bundling the most floriferous of the catmint with a few sprigs of lemon thyme. The oils stung the cuts but smelled divine; fresh citrus from the herbs with a distinct musky perfume from the deep red rose. His professor had offered a pretty white flower to match the asphodel flower crown, but Garreth was drawn to the velvety petals of this particular variety. He knew enough about Adanna that red roses sparked in her a comforting nostalgia; memories of her late mother and the garden she’d tended.

He wrapped the small bundle in red ribbon borrowed from Leander and tied a passable bow, holding it out at arm’s length to admire his handiwork. More used to chopping up flowers and crushing stems, Garreth didn’t quite have the same eye for the beauty that Adanna did, but he was sure that she would be pleased with his efforts.

What remained of the winter sun had dipped below the horizon, and most of his housemates were now in their dormitories readying themselves for the evening, with only a few strays littering the common room. Eric sat in a dimly-lit corner with his wand aloft, muttering some incantation that only seemed to produce a weak flurry of snowflakes before petering out, the carpet below his feet a shadow of damp remnants of magic.

Garreth left for the bathroom and bathed in citrusy suds until the inevitable clamour began outside the door. Eric was soon barging in in blind panic, evacuating Garreth in only a towel that did nothing to hide his modesty or blanket him from the chill. Curls dripping a trail behind him, he hastened back to the dormitory to find Leander fully clothed and fussing over his hair. The gravity-defying coif he usually styled had not a hair out of place.

“Is that glitter in your hair?” Garreth asked, padding back to his bed and shrugging into a fluffy dressing gown.

“No!” Leander yelped, retreating to the mirror and tossing his head back and forth under the lamp light.

Garreth snickered, but the mirth was short-lived as he pulled his robes from the wardrobe. He’d not looked at them in days, somehow hoping that when he came to put them on they might not appear quite so awful—but the frills were just as lacey, the style just as dated. He did not, in fact, have a kind spirit watching over him, ready to bestow good luck and replacement robes.

His face scrunched as fingers glided along the hems, but he could delay no longer. Garreth dried his hair with a gentle wind charm before pulling on his outfit—his smartest pair of breeches and shoes were a promising start, only getting progressively worse with every subsequent layer. The only thing worse than Leander’s jokes were his silence, which was now so loud that Garreth could barely stand it. The ruffled cravat came with the most ludicrous velvet bow tie that he was sure wasn’t intended to match.

Garreth turned to Leander, clutching the limp fabric. “Leander, do you have any spare bow ties?”

“Afraid not,” he replied, trying his hardest not to wince at Garreth’s appearance.

Eric had no such qualms. His eyes blew wide as dinner plates upon entering the dormitory, freshly bathed with dark hair plastered across his forehead. “That’s quite the ensemble, Garreth.”

Garreth groaned. “Do you have any spare bow ties?” he asked Eric, desperation creeping into his voice. “Look at this thing!”

“It matches your eyes,” Eric swooned with a devious grin on his face.

Garreth almost threw the tie at Eric, until it was snatched from his hand by Leander.

“What—��

“You can swap with me,” Leander sighed, holding the emerald fabric up to his neck; the antiquated style contrasted starkly with his sleek robes.

“Are you sure?”

“What are friends for? Ridding you of disastrous bow ties, apparently. I’m afraid I can’t do much about the robes, but Adanna’s eyes deserve a little relief.”

“I’m touched,” Garreth drawled, but he nudged Leander on the arm and smiled in thanks. Usually Garreth would baulk at accepting such charity, but it was testament to just how desperate he was to claw back any scrap of respectability that he hesitantly held out his hand for Leander’s neatly-pressed black tie.

“Thank you, really. At least it matches my shoes.”

Silver linings and all that.

He brushed his hair and did his best to tame it, then dabbed cologne onto his neck before shrugging into the robes. Considering they were his dear cousin’s, they didn’t fit too badly—she’d always been tall, towering over relatives at family functions.

Then there was not much to be done except wait. Minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly before Garreth suggested to his roommates that they hunt down the rest of the Gryffindors as a way to expend his escalating nervous energy. They didn’t have to look much farther than the common room, where Natty, Nellie and—to his dismay—Cressida sat by the fire.

It was some sort of agony to approach the beautifully attired women whilst Garreth himself resembled an elderly witch’s tatty window dressing. He’d expected Cressida’s cruelly amused reaction, given their falling out, but Natty and Nellie were kind enough not to comment on all the ugly details. Somehow, they found compliments amongst the bountiful ruffles (‘they fit you so well!’) whilst Garreth didn’t struggle at all to sing their praises.

Nellie wore a sweeping gown of burgundy silk, Cressida a high-necked navy blue dress with even more lace than Garreth’s robes, whilst Natty had opted for bright swathes of apricot fabric that swept across her collarbone, revealing a lavish gold and amber necklace.

“My mother’s,” she said with a smile. “She can always be counted on for the right accessory.”

“Will she be coming tonight?”

Natty nodded. “I think all the faculty are attending.”

“I can’t wait to see old Mr Moon getting sloshed. Mum’s told me so many stories.”

“Not if the headmaster has anything to say about it,” Leander said.

Nellie sighed, smoothing out her skirt. “Hopefully he doesn’t spoil all the fun.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” Cressida said as every head turned in unison towards the old grandfather clock. “Twenty minutes.”

Garreth turned to Leander, his palms suddenly sweaty and the fabric of his waistcoat far too constricting. “Godric. We should find Ada and Adelaide, shouldn’t we?”

Nellie soon peeled away to the dungeons to meet Imelda, Eric hastily walking off to find Samantha, whilst Cressida and Natty linked arms and followed Garreth and Leander towards the Entrance Hall. Natty would be going alone by choice, insisting that the very best way to enjoy a ball was to dance with as many people as possible, though Cressida was rather more dejected by the idea of attending alone. Her fury bore into the back of Garreth's head, but he was determined not to let their animosity sour the mood—besides, he might even thank Cressida for her interference. Without it, he might never have admitted his feelings to Adanna.

And what a wonder she was.

No sooner had they entered the Entrance Hall had his eyes landed upon her, drawn to the head of delicate flowers atop a bed of tightly coiled curls. Only vaguely aware of the festive decorations or anyone else in the room, Garreth headed straight to Adanna, who pulled her eyes away from Adelaide as he approached.

There were not many instances in Garreth’s life where he’d been rendered speechless—having many things to say on most topics; perhaps too many by usual standards—but he could quite unequivocally say that he had lost all ability to speak once Adanna turned to face him, revealing herself in all her glory. Garreth stopped mere inches away and gaped like a fish, until Leander nudged his arm.

“Hello.”

Garreth could practically hear Leander’s eyes rolling beside him.

“Adelaide, you look lovely. I hope you’re well?” Leander asked with only a faint quiver in his voice.

Garreth had somehow been caught in a staring match with Adanna, who’s eyes seemed to swirl and twinkle like the effervescence of his Fizzing Whizzbeer—not the most romantic comparison, and one he’d keep to himself, but nevertheless captivating. She seemed draped in moonlight; an ethereal vision amongst more worldly beings that surrounded her. The silver brocade of her dress skimmed perfect curves that she hid beneath her uniform in a way that was both demure yet utterly enticing, the neckline just low enough for Garreth to find himself struggling to breath when his gaze ventured lower.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally muttered, what might have been minutes after first taking in her appearance.

He could hear Adelaide and Natty squealing in the background.

“Thank you,” Adanna replied with a hint of shyness. “You scrub up well, Garreth.”

He chuckled, and the spell that shrouded her in that otherworldly haze fell away. This was Adanna, after all. Plucking the corsage he’d carefully crafted from behind his back, he offered it in upturned palms.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t quite match the rest of your outfit, but I thought you’d like the colour.”

As she held it beneath her nose, Adanna inhaled deeply and let her eyelids flutter shut. “You were right. It’s perfect, Gar.” She tucked the corsage into a loop of fabric on her dress, sitting just over her heart.

“Shall we go inside?” Garreth asked, holding out his arm. “I’m not sure where Leander’s run off to but I’m sure we’ll spot him.”

Adanna slipped her hand around his forearm—a not entirely foreign gesture—and nodded, then they ventured forth.

Now that Garreth’s brain had acclimated to Adanna’s proximity, he could truly appreciate the lengths to which the school’s staff and house elves had gone to in order to create a yuletide wonderland. Adanna gasped beside him as they entered the Great Hall, casting their eyes upward to the enchanted ceiling; a deep indigo backdrop with swathes of golden starlight, magically enlarged celestial bodies that glimmered beyond reach. Beneath them, gently swaying bells much like those housed in Hogwarts’ belltower—all in warm gold that carried the theme throughout the room.

Garreth pointed out the birds he’d seen earlier—many now roamed free to glide above awestruck guests and perch atop potted trees and garlands, picking berries from amongst prickly foliage. A dozen great firs lined the walls, bedecked in emerald baubles, velvet bows and flowers.The effect was rather like a gilded garden, humming with magic.

“I can certainly see Headmaster Black’s influence,” Adanna commented.

“Speak of the devil.”

Garreth spotted the headmaster making the rounds of the various guests, dressed in his finest emerald tailcoat and silk cravat. Garreth led Adanna out of his path, spotting Natty talking to Nerida over by the refreshments table which overflowed with tiny canapés and bowls full of what looked like fruit punch. It appeared that Natty’s ball card was almost full already, a long night of dancing ahead of her.

As the last of the students filed into the hall, the headmaster took to the raised platform which would usually house the faculty table, but was now packed with decorations, a sleek grand piano and string quartet with no musicians in sight. Black’s speeches were notoriously dull, full of long-winded tangents and inarticulate boasting—the welcome that followed his thunderous call for silence was no exception. At no point did he wish the students a Merry Christmas, only reminded them of the various punishments for ‘unbecoming behaviour’. Garreth might have nodded off, were it not for the introductions of various guests.

Black had clearly invited those he wished to impress; Ministry bigwigs and pureblood wizards that no doubt filled his country manors every summer. No Quidditch prodigies in sight, much to the disappointment of everyone present. Garreth felt his attention wander to the woman next to him as the headmaster droned on about someone's accolades, and he found that he didn't care much at all about the greying wizard’s Order of Merlin when Garreth could happily, and openly, take in Adanna's beauty.

“Are you staring?” she whispered, not turning her head to look his way.

“Maybe a little.”

Her chuckle was drowned out by a weak round of applause as Black finally left the platform, and cheers erupted, to his dismay, as the instruments began to play—the moment had come to show off his newly acquired dance skills.

Luckily, he need not adjust to another partner—by now, he and Adanna knew each other's rhythms. They moved together effortlessly, unburdened by the need to keep some modicum of physical distance. Nor was it strange or awkward, which Garreth had worried it might be. Here their roles were clear; hand in hand, dancing below the twilight sky, there was no ambiguity left. He found his thumb idly stroking Adanna's waist, and she squeezed his arm in return.

Garreth wanted nothing more than to kiss her, and he'd intended to once the song finished, until his plans were thwarted by a barking summons.

“Weasley!”

Adanna stiffened in his arms, her eyes widening.

Garreth grimaced. “What does the headmaster want with me?”

Phineas Black stood on the periphery of the dance floor, chin tilted skyward, waiting. Garreth let Adanna go with all the regret in the world, but she slipped her hand around his arm before he could retreat in a show of solidarity.

He'd had his fair share of tense encounters with Black over the years, particularly in relation to his notoriety as a menace in the potions classroom, but the man now looked more furious than during any reprimand Garreth had previously endured. Whilst still retaining his air of pomposity, Black's nose wrinkled so intensely that Garreth could see right up his nostrils despite standing just as tall.

“Weasley, what are you wearing?”

Ah, so it was his ensemble that had the headmaster’s breeches in a twist.

“Dress robes, sir,” Garreth replied dryly.

He could feel Adanna twitching next to him, no doubt holding in a laugh. Black opened his mouth and bared his teeth, but was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, stiff man with eyes as dark as coal. If Phineas Black had a particularly severe looking cousin, Garreth imagined that this stranger might be another member of the infamous family.

“Augustus, how nice to see you.” Black greeted the man with a strong handshake, Garreth's fashion faux-pas now forgotten—but the man, Augustus, seemed to have noticed Garreth lingering, his gaze drifting slowly over his robes.

Now seemed the opportune time to make a quick getaway. “Well, we'll just be off—”

“Weasley, is it?”

This ‘Augustus’ was addressing Garreth, to Black's horror; he might have preferred if Garreth and Adanna disappeared into the throng never to be seen again.

“Your father is a ministry man.” He said it as a statement. “One might think his son would take more care with his appearance. After all, first impressions reflect on our family name, hm?”

He talked as if Garreth were no longer there, casting a sideways glance to Black who nodded fervently. Garreth's blood boiled, cheeks burning from rage, though he couldn't muster the shame that Augustus seemed so intent on inflicting.

“Ah, you see sir, our family doesn't tend to judge others’ worth by their appearance. Awfully shallow mindset. Anyway, lovely to meet you, but we should get back to dancing.”

He said it in such a cheerfully blithe way that his words would take a moment or two to register. Before either man could retort, Garreth had guided Adanna back into the crowds, weaving through twirling couples engaged in a waltz.

“Gar, stop!” Adanna said, gripping his arm and pulling him to a standstill.

He'd been striding so fiercely that she'd been barely able to keep up.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don't apologise, I just can't walk that quickly in these shoes.”

Garreth exhaled heavily, still trying to rid himself of pent up anger that needed an outlet.

“What a—a—”

He couldn't quite find a word for the horrible man they'd just encountered.

“A git?” Adanna supplied helpfully.

“Precisely.”

“The worst kind of prejudiced wizard. How typical of Black's acquaintances.”

“I suppose I should have expected it,” Garreth said, picking at the lace of his robes.

Adanna pulled his hand away, smoothing down the fabric. Her hands gliding down his chest sent a jolt along the length of his spine, a storm erupting in his gut.

“Would dancing help you calm down?” she asked.

“It might,” he replied with a lopsided smile, entirely distracted by the grip she had on his lapels.

They fell into easy conversation whilst dancing at a languorous pace to a gentle melody, laughter erupting as they made fun of the two grumpy men still conversing at the sidelines whilst the couples trying to enjoy a romantic moment cast disapproving glares their way. But it didn't matter—this was what Garreth loved about being with Adanna. She was such easy company, her presence so comforting and joyful; it seemed at times that she was another piece of Garreth's soul, her presence making him whole.

“He shouldn't be able to say things like that and get away with it,” Adanna said.

“I’ll probably be in detention for the rest of the year just for what I just said, but at least I got the last word.”

She was right, of course. Men such as Black and his friend so rarely met the consequences of their actions. Wild ideas of revenge swirled in his mind, thoroughly distracting him from his footwork.

“Ow!,” Adanna squeaked as Garreth’s foot squashed her toes.

“Sorry! I wasn’t—”

“I can tell when you have an idea, Gar. Your eyes go all misty. What is it?”

“What if I could make sure that he didn’t get away with it?”

Garreth grinned, now remembering a tiny vial filled with swirling ocean blue liquid tucked into his trunk. It was an old brew that he'd experimented on back in fifth year—meant to make the drinker gassy, so that they expelled colourful bubbles. A silly party trick, or a harmless prank. Unfortunately, what he'd actually created was a powerful laxative that Leander had been on the receiving end of. Garreth still teased him about the full day he'd spent on the toilet.

“Wait here,” he said, planting a swift kiss on Adanna's cheeks and attempting to extricate himself from the dance floor.

But Adanna’s grip held firm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have a brilliant idea that’ll give Augustus the absolute worst night of his life.”

Garreth’s thoughts were already miles away with the vial in hand, turning over ideas for how to administer the potion. The curve of his lips faltered slightly when he saw Adanna tilt her head in exasperation.

“Do you really want to spend the night pranking that horrible man?”

Did he? Perhaps some juvenile part of him did. In past years he might even have tried to involve Adanna, but she had always been the one to rein in his more ridiculous and morally questionable ideas. The alternative—spending the evening with her wrapped up in his arms, exploring this entirely new side of their relationship—sounded much more enjoyable, now that he really thought about it. The impulse for revenge dimmed with every passing second, fading entirely as they locked eyes.

“No, not really,” he replied truthfully.

The instruments echoed their final notes, whatever clumsy waltz they’d been attempting came to a stop, and Garreth noticed a faint but unmistakable rustling, an interlude between the strings’ symphonies. He and Adanna looked up to the source at the same time, to find sprigs of mistletoe conjured above their heads. It appeared that the castle itself agreed with Garreth’s assessment.

“I think Hogwarts is trying to tell us something,” he said.

A new song crescendoed and couples seemed to glide around them, paying them no mind as he stroked her cheek, heart pounding so fiercely it was all he could hear. This was it—that moment yearned for but never in his dizziest daydreams did he think would become a reality. The moment that would change the course of their friendship forever, irreparably, that he would pursue without question.When their lips met, they smiled. Finally, they seemed to say in unison, entirely wordlessly as they clung to each other as if the world was ending. Somewhere in this gilded hall, they had found the courage to take a step into the unknown—and neither regretted a thing.

#garreth weasley #garrethweasleyfest #garrethweasleyfest24

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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Garreth Weasley Fest!

Thank you to @cuffmeinblack & @ellivenollivander from @garrethweasleyfest for organising this project for us to show appreciation for our favourite ginger 💖

I’ll have to say, this is my very first time joining something like this, and I was nervous about doing it right. I was even worried about not making it in time due to my packed schedule but hey, I made it!! 💖

My prompt was Modern!AU Cooking Class with Garreth and this is my idea of it. Many hours of lo-fi beats were played during the creation process… 😆

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#garrethweasleyfest #garreth weasley #garrethweasleyfest24

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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DATE AT THE HAUNTED HOUSE Tessa goes into the Haunted House with Garreth, the handsome guy she (almost literally) ran into earlier. Of all the times to find out that she doesn't like Haunted Houses.... at least Garreth is there to keep her safe. It is Modern Time/Muggle AU! Read it here: Ao3 or Wattpad

This was written for Garreth Fest. I got three prompts and had to write a story with at least one of the prompts. Out of the prompts I got I picked: K-drama tropes (wrist grab, piggyback ride, falling into the other person's arms by accident)

I was a bit in a rush to finish this in time (I swear October has it out for me), but I managed it! I decided to have a little fun with it and I hope it turned out okay and whoever will read this, enjoys it! :D

#garreth weasley #garrethweasleyfest #garrethweasleyfest24

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garrethweasleyfest · 8 months ago

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Magic over Flowers - Echoes of the Past

Many thanks to @dvinaamesca for granting me permission to use the screenshot on the right! <3

Summary: After much effort, Garreth finally acquired a Pensieve, eager to explore the memories closest to his heart. The first one he chose was his Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts—one of his most cherished moments. Rating: T Word count: 5K Based on the prompt for the Weasley fest: Garreth Sorting Experience

A/N: this fiction can be read as a one-shot, but it's not. It's the prologue to my next long fiction: Magic over Flowers (full summary and tags on AO3) Magic over Flowers I want to thank my beta reader, knubpin for the amazing help! And my writing group for the support :3

There are tons of references to the game and to Harry's sorting ceremony ;)

He fell, and fell, and fell. One moment, he was in his workshop, nervously checking the basin, his face reflecting the silvery threads swirling and shimmering, casting a soft glow in his eyes—gently inviting him in. The next, he was free-falling into it.

His familiar world faded away. The scents of ingredients and burned wood receded, his stomach dropping, breath hitching in his throat as he plummeted, a gnawing fear surfacing.

What if he had chosen the wrong memory? What if it didn’t work—and he got stuck? How was he supposed to go back?

Natsai hadn’t given any instructions, just a simple—choose the memory and dive into it.

“Brilliant,” Garreth muttered under his breath.

As he kept falling,panic tugged at the edges of his mind, tightening its grip. But just as fear threatened to overwhelm him, his feet suddenly touched solid ground, landing gently on wet pavement. It looked like a station.

The fog still enveloped him like a silver mantle, swirling softly around him, revealing more of his surroundings with each passing second.

Garreth breathed a sigh of relief, though the air felt stiff and warm—nothing like the brisk Scottish night he expected.

He looked up at a fine drizzle pouring down the sky, but he couldn’t actually feel it on his skin, the fine droplets melting on the palms of his hands and his face, leaving only a faint tingling sensation.

How bizarre!

“First years!”

A raucous voice pierced through the fog as it dissipated, slowly uncovering the scene around him.

He knew the place—it was the Hogsmeade Station.

The street lamps barely illuminated the tiny, dark platform, their faint light reflecting on the ponds formed by rain and the salty mist rolling in from the lake.

A whistle cut through the air, accompanied by a puff of steam: the Hogwarts Express came to a halt on the tracks, in a screech of metal and brakes.

As the doors opened, a wave of students streamed out of the train, their excited chatter filling the air.

“First years!”

The voice called again, a bobbing lantern marking its place, cutting through the darkness. Garreth noticed a few shorter students making their hesitant way toward it.

He strained his neck, trying to find himself amidst the sea of dark-cloaked students. He shouldn’t have been that far away.

Soon, as the pressing crowd dissipated, he managed to distinguish three trembling figures just a few feet away. One was clearly shorter and all agitated, clinging to the tallest of the three.

He immediately recognised his elder brother Edmund, proudly wearing his new, shiny Prefect badge on his chest, while a shorter Oliver was nearby, stealing fugitive glances at a much younger Henry.

He took a tentative step forward, his silent footsteps accompanied by trembling legs, a pounding heart, and clammy hands.

Bubbling cauldrons! He was so short! So tiny!

His head barely reached his waist, and his curly hair was messier than ever from constantly raking it. His face was a sea of freckles—he’d had so many back then… and his voice had been so high-pitched, a squeaky mix of anticipation and fear.

Garreth smiled, his chest tightening as the small boy in front of him hopped from one foot to the other, nervously asking about the Sorting Ceremony. He remembered asking for the whole journey, but both Edmund and Oliver had sternly refused to tell him anything.

Oliver had hinted at some sort of proof of courage, saying he’d have to fight the lake monster if he wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor, which Garreth had tried hard not to believe.

He moved closer to the group, uncertain whether to call out or not.

Would they recognise him, or be scared by his sudden presence?

Could he change or affect a memory?

Damn Natty! He had no idea.

But he really, really wanted to reassure his younger, tiny self that everything would be fine. He had nothing to fear.

He reached out to touch little Garreth's shoulder, his hand hovered there, inches away, before slipping through the boy as if he were made of mist. He jerked his hand back, blinking in confusion.

“First years!”

His younger self jumped, startled, casting a horrified look behind him—completely ignoring him—while Edmund leaned in for a final goodbye.

“Wherever you’re sorted, you’ll be always my little brother!” he winked, adjusting his cloak over his shoulders before turning and waving his hand one last time disappearing into the crowd.

"Hey, wait!” Garreth called, but his voice was swallowed by the drizzle, unheard. He waved his arms too, trying to catch Edmund’s eye, but his brother didn’t even glance his way. It was as if he wasn’t there at all.

They couldn’t see, nor hear him. It was just a memory, after all.

Garreth followed the increasingly impatient and authoritative voice—until he reached its source. The tall, lean frame of Mr Moon appeared before him, waving a lamp in his left hand, its dim light casting shadows on the faces of the scared students around him and on the slick sheen of his dark hair, messily brushed back.

Garreth looked around at the first-year students—all so small!—bundled in their long, dark cloaks, shivering and casting wary glances at each other.

Some clutched their wands tightly, while others sought comfort in their friends.

He noticed a blonde boy whose wand pulsed slightly, casting an ominous red glow around its tip. The other students were letting him pass, scared by his wand.

Garreth felt a smile surface on his lips as a sturdy boy with glasses approached the blonde boy, fascinated, and asked him what kind of trick that was and how he was so good with a wand already.

“No trick, I’m blind,” the boy snapped, shooing him away.

“It’s dark magic!” added another one with a messy mop of brown hair, dramatically flailing his fingers, before a little girl, his spitting image, chimed in with a deep, cavernous voice, “Fear the heir of Slytherin!”

Soon, they burst into laughter, a sharp contrast to the thick tension in the air and the fate they would all endure years later.

Still chuckling, Garreth moved closer, searching for his younger self—where had he gone? The little miscreant.

He remembered being one of the last joining in the group, in fact after a few minutes, he found himself running toward them as they were already moving toward the Black Lake.

He smiled as little Garreth pushed his worn-out first-year hat out of his eyes, revealing a mass of curls dangling in front of his sweaty face.

“I’m here!” he screamed, almost tripping over his too-long cloak—Oliver’s old one—before finally joining the group along the narrow path.

Mr Moon didn’t even acknowledge him, too busy grumbling and snorting as a young Imelda Reyes peppered him with questions about flying practices and the Quidditch Cup.

“Can we join a team from the first year? Are we allowed to have our own brooms? I brought mine! My grandad gifted me the latest model, a… ”

Mr Moon ignored her completely, too focused on rallying the students toward the shore where a set of boats gently swayed in the current.

“No more than four!” he repeated several times.

Garreth followed the group, hoping to find a spot in one of the boats, though—he checked his stomach—he worried he might weigh it down.

The students divided themselves into small groups and climbed into the boats.

Garreth watched as his younger self stumbled, nearly tripping into the lake as he tried to jump into the boat, water sloshing around his feet.

He sighed shaking his head, he did remember wearing soggy socks for the rest of the evening.

“Are you crazy? If you fall in, the monster will swallow you whole!”

A girl with dark hair helped him to join her, while he checked to make sure his cloak wasn’t dipping into the murky depths.

“So there is a monster!” he squealed, wide-eyed.

“There is no monster,” a quiet, serious voice replied. “It’s only a giant squid, and I doubt it eats humans. I bet it prefers toasts. I do.” Garreth turned his head, imagining how his younger self’s cheeks must have flushed bright red. He knew this was the first time he had laid his eyes on Poppy Sweeting. Her calm demeanour and disinterested tone hadn’t fazed him at that time, as he admired her warm brown eyes, glinting in the lamplight dangling from the front of the boat.

Her eyes immediately reminded him of another pair, their familiar hazelnut shade hidden behind glasses, and his heart ached at the thought.

But he was doing this for her…

A sudden stream of shouts caught his attention, interrupting his thoughts.

Up front, two boys were wrestling and shoving each other, both determined to be the first onto the boat.

“I’m going to win this! And I’ll get sorted wherever I want!”

Garreth glanced at them, noticing a lock of red hair spilling from under a hat. He chuckled—Leander had always been competitive, even from day one.

Too bad that wasn’t a competition.

“I heard there are mermaids in the lake!” a girl next to Imelda exclaimed as the boats started to make their way toward the distant cliff.

“Of course, Nerida. We can search for them after our flying training.”

Garreth sat down in the spot he’d found on one of the last boats, where only three others stood, and he quietly observed as the castle emerged before them. Its imposing structure loomed darker against the starry fabric of the night sky, a myriad of lights flickering behind the glass windows, winking at the new first years and inviting them into its mysteries.

As they glided over the shimmering lake, its surface rippling with waves and drizzle from the night, Garreth took a long breath, the salty scent filling his nostrils.

A soft “Oh…” rose from the students, mingling with the splashes of water against the sides of the boats.

He sighed.

He remembered marvelling at the castle, so big, so sturdy and enticingly scary. It had been a sight to behold indeed, and memories flooded his mind, enveloping him in a soft veil of nostalgia, cooing gently to his heart. He loved Hogwarts, and seeing it now at 24 filled him with a strange mix of peace and dread.

Tears welled in his eyes, as a time that he could never reclaim, unwound before him.

He searched for his younger self, blissfully unaware of the adventures ahead—the experiments with his brews, the little thefts, the crushes, detentions, laughter, and tears. And then, that moment on his sixteenth birthday, when he returned home only to realize his heart was bound to his childhood friend, forcing him to renounce the Wizarding world.

The boat swayed, pulling him out of his thoughts as it turned toward the tunnel opening on the side of the cliff. Garreth gripped the edge, trying to steady himself, while a student in front of him kept cackling.

“Stop it! You’re ruining my hair!” A shrill scream pierced the air as the girl next to him tried to dry her face with the sleeve of her cloak, ducking under a curtain of thick ivy.

Meanwhile, a chubby boy with round glasses kept insisting it was just a joke.

“You’ll joke once I set you on fire, Clopton!”

Garreth smiled. Sacharissa hadn’t changed a bit.

The boat approached the bank of the underground harbor, and the students climbed out one after another, shivering slightly in their cloaks. Someone offered to help Ominis, but he managed just fine, waving his wand confidently as he moved in the familiar darkness.

They followed Mr Moon up the winding, seemingly endless stairs that hugged the side of the castle, until they finally reached the entrance hall. His heart leaped. Aunt Matilda Weasley stood in front of the great oak door.

Garreth wanted to say she looked younger, but the truth was, she didn’t. She was exactly the same, her glasses perched atop her nose, exuding that calm, motherly demeanour as she gently watched the students gather around her.

“Aunt Millie!" The words escaped his younger self before he could stop them, filled with a longing for the familiarity and warmth she represented amidst stranger peers.

He stifled a chuckle, remembering how surprised he had been to see her there. He knew she was a professor, but he hadn’t expected her to be the one greeting them. At the time, he thought she was there just for him.

"Of course, we’ve got another favoured one here!" Leander sneered, looming over the others with his tall, lanky frame, arms crossed and tapping his foot. He cast a glance at Ominis, who was holding his wand, trying to discern the professor's features in front of them.

Garreth snorted. He hadn’t forgotten how he and Leander had gotten off on the wrong foot, but in hindsight, he knew Leander had just been a bit jealous. His own siblings were either indifferent or already in their last year, and he didn’t have any connections, not like Garreth had with Edmund. Still, he hadn’t realized Leander had such a sharp tongue, even at that age.

Garreth glanced at his aunt, noticing the slight pull of a smile at the corner of her lips. She gave no sign of recognising him, something she'd continue to do in classes—except when she gave him detention, threatening him to send an owl to his parents.

That night would have been the last one he would have been happy to see her.

“Thank you, Mr Moon.” Aunt Matilda tilted her head, bidding goodbye to the caretaker, then shifted her attention to the group. “Good evening, my dears. Welcome to Hogwarts. Please follow me," she said, turning and gesturing for them to follow her inside the castle.

As they passed through the door, their footsteps echoed on the flagged marble floor, and the lanterns cast trembling shadows of their silhouettes on the stone walls. Some students glanced at the towering suits of armour, posed as if ready for battle. A booming chorus of voices echoed from behind another giant door.

The Great Hall!

Everyone was already sitting there.

Garreth stood for a moment in front of the massive oak door, the armours clanging their swords behind him. He touched the door, his nerves tingling with anticipation, as he pushed slightly, eager to be part of that world once again, but nothing happened.

He had to follow the flow of the first years, who were getting excited again, some whispering, some casting frightened looks around.

“Now, please, please, make space.” Aunt Matilda invited them in, holding the door. The room was small, cramped, and the roaring coming from the corridor behind her was muffled only by her voice.

“The next room is the Great Hall, where you’ll be sorted. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. A house is like a family…”

Garreth squeezed himself into the back of the room, leaning against the wall, while his aunt explained what the houses were and the different activities of the school to the group of wide-eyed students.

A soft, sad smile grazed his lips as his gaze swept over them. Everything came back to him at once: the nervous excitement, the fear of the unknown Sorting Ceremony, the thrill of starting a new chapter of their lives away from family. The sense of disorientation mingled with a feeling of belonging to something bigger than himself—his first, cautious steps into the Wizarding World.

He had entered as a scared, tiny, naive boy and emerged as a young man, ready to take his life and family responsibilities into his own hands.

Hogwarts had shaped him—moulded him into the man he was now, and the man he would still become.

Aunt Matilda finished her talk by explaining the House Cup and how to bring honour to their House. He shook his head; young Garreth had no idea how many points he would manage to lose during his time there, how many detentions and how much extra homework he had to endure. How they won the House Cup in his second and sixth years was still a mystery he couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

“Please take a moment to recompose yourselves. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Aunt Matilda said as she exited the room.

As soon as she was gone, the group started whispering among themselves.

“All my family’s in Slytherin, I will be too!” a snotty voice whispered, loud enough to make several students roll their eyes.

“I’ll win the House Cup!”

“I’ve read all about Hogwarts! The history here is amazing!” Garreth recognized Amit’s voice amongst few others.

He glanced at Sacharissa, still dampening her hair, while his younger self wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffled, pushing his messy curls under his too-big hat trying to look presentable. Some girls were running their fingers over their uniforms, smoothing the fabric, others were cleaning their splashed glasses on their robes.

If she had gone to Hogwarts, what house would she have been sorted into? he wondered. With her love for plants and hardworking nature, she would have been a Hufflepuff for sure. Too bad…

Just as Garreth began to lose himself in thoughts again, a strange shift in the air caught his attention. A draft swept through the room, and before he could fully react, the sound of a loud bang shattered the quiet.

“Oh! What do we have here? Little, fresh, tiny firsties…” a shrill voice boomed.

Soon, the hats of some students near the back of the room were lifted from their heads, eliciting cries of fear.

“I hope you’re ready to prove yourselves! Last year we had a couple of deaths. I wonder who’ll be the lucky one this year!” a voice cackled as a little man with a tall blue hat appeared, floating midair, adjusting his huge bowtie and casting wicked glances down at them.

“Pain, pain, little firsties... fear, fear…” he chanted with his big mouth, taking pleasure in watching them squirm and tremble.

“Peeves, stop this instant!” a deep, menacing voice echoed through the room as a ghost swept in, chains clinking behind him.

Peeves trembled and started bowing. “I’m so sorry, your bloodiness, I was just greeting the new students…” Still sputtering excuses, he floated away, following the Bloody Baron under the bewildered eyes of the students.

As the hats floated back down, a girl burst into tears.

Garreth recognized the crisp dark curls of Cressida Blume, a Muggle-born.

“I-I don’t want to die!” she cried, hiding her face in her hands and sniffing loudly.

“I want to go home, I don’t want to be a witch!”

Garreth watched his younger self move next to the girl.

“Don’t worry! If you die, you can come back as a ghost!”

He shook his head as the girl wailed even louder.

I can’t believe I said that to poor Cressida!

The Bloody Baron wasn’t exactly the best example of how to come back as a ghost, with his silver bloodstains covering his outdated attire. No wonder the girl had been terrified. He could only imagine how traumatic it must have been for her back then.

He had seen it first-hand just a few months ago—how showing a Muggle the magical world could change their life forever. His wife had been terrified when she first learned about wizards and witches. The disbelief in her eyes, the fear…

Despite all his reassurances that he wasn’t a lunatic, he knew the shock was something she still hadn’t fully overcome.

What the hell was I thinking, telling Cressida that?

Thankfully, Adelaide Oaks stepped in, moving next to Cressida.

“There, there, nobody’s going to die. Let’s meet tomorrow for breakfast, and I’ll teach you how to send an owl to your parents, so you can tell them all about Hogwarts.”

A few minutes later, Aunt Matilda returned and, after casting another glance at their soggy clothes, beckoned them to follow her back into the entrance hall. She opened the doors to the Great Hall.

They stepped inside.

Garreth held his breath. Even after all these years, the Great Hall never ceased to impress him. Though five years had passed since his graduation and twelve since his first steps inside, the sight still filled him with awe. His eyes were instantly drawn upward to the enchanted ceiling. He smirked, noticing the other students doing the same, wide-eyed in wonder.

If only they knew the hall was even better during Halloween and Christmas…

He spotted his younger self, marvelling at the sight with his eyes wide and his mouth forming a silent "O" of surprise. Then his gaze swept over the crowd—four long tables filled with students, all craning their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the newcomers.

He remembered that moment so well—little Garreth was surely searching for his brothers, trying at the same time to catch as much as possible of the festive atmosphere all around him. He recalled exchanging a playful look with Oliver, who mimed a punch with his fists, while Edmund, seated next to him, resisted the urge to cuff him on the head, settling instead for a wink of encouragement.

Garreth almost trampled over little Amit, who was muttering the names of the stars on the enchanted ceiling, standing near the back of the line.

He followed the group to the front of the hall, where they lined up before the professors.

Garreth smirked, catching sight of Professor Sharp.

The poor man has no idea what’s coming, he thought, and Professor Garlick would have been her favourite…

But as his gaze travelled up the long table, his stomach dropped.

There sat Professor Fig, his wrinkled face openly smiling, his gentle eyes following the students as they lined up in front of him. If only he had known—if only he could have changed his fate. But a memory was just that: a memory. And Garreth could not alter the destiny that had already been sealed.

He was just a spectator of a distant time.

Yet his eyes lingered for a moment on Professor Fig’s features, trying to etch them into his mind. Remembering him like this—with his soft smile and paternal, benevolent demeanour—was the best way Garreth could honour his memory.

Soon, Aunt Matilda interrupted his reverie, placing a four-legged stool at the front of the hall, and on top of it, the old, patched Sorting Hat. Garreth smiled, recalling how flabbergasted he had been at the sight of the hat, completely unsure of its purpose. His brothers had kept their mouths tight, unwilling to spoil the surprise. The hat looked almost like the one his grandmother had tried to get him to wear for his wedding—tattered and filthy, but at least it wasn’t as stinky.

Lucky for him, his wife had only needed to wear the family tiara, which she accepted gracefully, despite his grandmother’s snarky remarks about her appearance.

As the hat began to sing, Garreth’s attention shifted again. The first years stared up at it, confusion etched on their faces.

“It’s singing!” he heard Arthur Plummly exclaim.

Yes, it was singing a song about Hogwarts, a real song. He had heard it seven times during his years at the school, though his favourite Sorting Ceremony had been during his fourth year. That was when Natsai had joined the first years, standing taller than the rest, and the hat had greeted her by adding a line in her own African dialect.

Gloomier had been the song from the following year, alerting the whole student body about the goblin rebellion. He shivered, trying to not think about it.

As the hat finished its song, applause boomed through the hall.

“Blume, Cressida,” Aunt Matilda called once the students had quieted down.

The girl looked like she might faint at any moment.

As the ceremony continued, Aunt Matilda called each name, and one by one, the students stepped forward, the hat dropping down over their heads, hiding half of their faces.

There was a brief, electrical pause of silence when Ominis Gaunt was called, his wand pulsing in his hand, followed by the little spat between the Sallow twins as Sebastian claimed he was born first.

Garreth stood there, lacing his hands behind his back, patiently waiting.

There were several advantages to being a Weasley, but having a surname that started with "W" wasn’t one of them. Garreth watched his younger self, standing on tiptoe, lifting his hat to peer impatiently at the student under the Sorting Hat.

Leander, Cressida, Nellie—they had all been sorted into Gryffindor.

Leander proudly puffed out his chest as he paraded between the tables, basking in the sea of students clapping their hands to welcome him. With a flick of Aunt Millie’s wand, the satin lining of his cloak turned a rich crimson hue.

As the ceremony moved forward, it was finally Garreth’s turn.

Little Garreth sprang up and clumsily ran toward the stool, nearly tripping in his too-big cloak while removing his hat. He plopped down on the stool, his leg nervously tapping and his hand gripping the edge. The Sorting Hat dropped over his head, pushing his curls down over his eyes.

“So, where do you want to go, young Weasley?” The hat’s voice reverberated in his mind as if spoken directly into his thoughts. He flinched in surprise. But by the shocked look on little Garreth's face, he was experiencing the same. And soon he heard his answer too.

“With my brothers!”

“Are you sure? You have a wonderfully chaotic mind, full of ideas and…!”

“I want to be a baker!”

Garreth laughed softly, remembering that all too well. He had wanted to be a baker—especially since he had shown signs of magic later than his siblings and feared he might be a Squib. “A late bloomer,” his mother had called him, so he had needed a backup plan.

He sighed, thinking back. Maybe if he had pursued a career in baking, everything would have turned out differently.

Maybe she wouldn’t have been forced to marry him.

Maybe if she had married Edmund, she would have been happier.

“A baker? But I see a love for experimentation. You’re determined. Hufflepuff could do wonders for you!”

Little Garreth didn’t answer. He just wanted to be with his brothers, to be in the same house as them as his whole family.

“You’re also courageous, and you care deeply for those around you—indeed, a true giver!”

Garreth smirked as he watched his younger self, so tiny and scared, his eyes squeezed shut and his face scrunched up in anticipation. And then, in the end...

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers as the hat shouted its verdict. Garreth watched his younger self spring up and run toward the roaring table, ignoring Leander’s grimace and Aunt Matilda’s call as he still had the Sorting Hat on his head.

Once the hat was back on the stool, young Garreth sat down proudly in front of his brothers, feeling triumphant and ready to indulge in the lavish banquet. Ready to learn, to experiment, to finally enjoy the magical world he was part of after so many years of believing he was a Squib.

Now, though, Garreth’s optimism had melted away, like ingredients dissolving in his cauldron. That little girl with the too-short hair had once been an afterthought. He’d even boasted about going to a new school abroad while she attended a Muggle one. But now, that girl was the centre of his world. And for her, he had repressed everything, hidden his powers to avoid hurting her. Anymore.

Why couldn’t everything have stayed that simple? he wondered. Letting others guide him toward his future…

“Garreth?”

Startled, he spun on his heels, surprise written all over his face.

She stood before him, her eyes wide behind her glasses, darting around the hall in confusion.

“What does this mean?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

He took a step forward, trying to calm her as the anxiety in her voice rose.

“You’re here,” he murmured, reaching out to take her hand in a reassuring gesture.

He hesitated, then retreated, clenching his fist.

“I followed you,” she said. I saw you bending over a basin and then... you disappeared. I was worried.”

Her eyes moved up to the Gryffindor table, landing on little Garreth and his brothers.

His heart clenched as he saw her taking in the scene—he knew she was searching for Edmund. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore the softness in his eyes as she most likely admired his brother.

“What is this?” she asked again, her gaze shifting back to him, searching his face for answers.

“This is a memory of my first day at school,” he said softly, lowering his voice.

He finally reached out and took her hand. Her skin was cold, trembling slightly, and there was a streak of soil cloaking her fingers.

“The... magic school?” Her eyes flicked back to the table as food appeared in golden plates and chalices filled with juice, then up to the enchanted ceiling.

He nodded, a soft smile creasing his lips.

He wasn’t showing her the past to relive it. He was showing her because it was all he had left to give, a bridge to the gap between their worlds, a desperate attempt to mend something that he had broken. Maybe it was false hope.

“Would you like to see more?” he asked gently, his tone laced with hope as he searched in her hazelnut eyes for a hint of curiosity and maybe forgiveness.

As the memory started to dissolve around them, mist enveloping them and twirling, the familiar scents of herbs and cauldron cleaners filled his nostrils. Her fingers twitched slightly in his hand, and her gaze, though still uncertain, seemed to soften. A flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, perhaps something deeper—passed over her face, which gave Garreth the little push he needed.

“Shall I conjure up more memories?”

#garreth weasley #garrethweasleyfest #garrethweasleyfest24

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