lavenderfields14

[lavenderfields14]

i really think tomarrymort works best when voldemort/tmr is willing to die for harry and harry is willing to kill for him. push them to their limits, make them do for each other what theyll do for no other

[lavenderfields14]

Voldemort is NOT a bad boy mysterious type. He wants to be, but his hobbies are journaling and antique collecting. Gayass.

[lavenderfields14]

Oh nothing, thinking about how Rio was a foreshadowing of how Viktor would be turned into a Thing caught between life and death because there was a man obsessed with keeping them alive.

[lavenderfields14]

Timebomb-Jayvik dynamic is so funny bc we have:

Begrudgingly acknowledge each other despite that one time Ekko haggle the fuck out Jayce and Jayce accidentally polluted the underground

Two strikes and they started throwing slurs at each other

[lavenderfields14]

No because I NEED someone to animate Draco and Harry singing 'What Is This Feeling?' from Wicked to each other PLEASEEEEEE 😫

[lavenderfields14]

james has perfected the art of untangling his limbs from regulus’ to go on his morning run without waking him up - especially during weekends - because he knows that a single wrong movement means dealing with a very grumpy regulus for the rest of the day

James: do you want pasta or chicken for lunch, love?

Regulus: don’t call me love

Regulus: if you actually loved me you wouldn’t have woken me up at six in the morning on a sunday

James: …you went back to sleep immediately after?

Regulus: it’s NOT the same thing

[lavenderfields14]

Tom, obliviously trying to win harry over: oh harry, you know I would never hurt you.

Time-travelled Harry, about to fucking loose it:

[lavenderfields14]

Tomarry fanfic where Harry travels back in time and doesn't give a fuck about Tom and just tries to find a way back, while Tom becomes obsessed with him (even though Harry didn't do shit).

[lavenderfields14]

From the back they could almost be mistaken for siblings. Maybe if Harry smoothed his hair down a little or if Tom mussed his own a bit.

But from far away, no matter how much the Slytherin towered over the Griffyndor, it was easy to notice the similarities: the pale skin of summers spent indoors at the orphanage, the inky hair of different genetics, the gangly, malnourished bodies of being under fed for eleven years.

It also didn't help their case that they acted so similar. Granted, Harry had a more natural chaos about him and Tom a certain superiority in his voice. But the hand gestures they made, the cool, calm voices, the straight backs and raised noses. They played off of one another in every scenario whether it be a duel or a potion, a praise or an insult, they complemented each other beautifully.

After all, they had spent years together, just the two of them, stuck in a small building with heathens, Tom's only handle to sanity being Harry and Harry's only source of happiness being Tom.

There had been periods of time when they would only talk to each other and play the game where they pretend no one else existed.

The longest they had ever gone playing that game was 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days. They had only stopped because Mrs. Cole had threatened a beating for them each.

For all the similarities, they did have their differences: Tom was covered in moles, not too many but enough, Harry had a dark scar above his eye that resembled a lightning bolt, Tom's nose was slightly crooked no matter how much he glamoured it, Harry's chin was pointer and so were his elbows.

Then, of course, there was their eyes. Emerald green and scarlet red. A daring combination.

They were inseparable even in different houses. They just gravitated towards the other without meaning or hesitation.

They were Tom and Harry, the orphans.

[lavenderfields14]

Dark Lord and The Master of Death Harry Potter

[lavenderfields14]

[lavenderfields14]

Harry Potter did not go on to be an Auror.

After 18 years of bloodshed and battle, he simple didn't want it anymore.

He didn't want to see his family fall into curtains and his friends get possessed and pedestrians get slaughtered.

He no longer could bare the brute of the reliance that the world held on him. He no longer could withstand the flashing lights of wizard paparazzi and the degrading words of Rita Skeeter.

He couldn't stand being the Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. The Hero.

He could only stand to be Harry.

Just Harry.

Harry who, after finishing his 8th year, declined the offer from the ministry to automatically become an Auror. Harry who, after taking a bit to think about it, realized he didn't know anything about himself. Harry who, after hugging everyone goodbye, took a year away from Britain and traveled the world, intent on finding out who exactly he was outside of his 'birthright'.

And it was time well spent.

He adored Quidditch, but he craved to be out playing football and trying to see how far he could kick the ball.

He devoured Treacle tart, but he found an odd obsession with pumpkin flavored desserts and an affinity for baking them.

He liked girls, but he loved boys and dated a few before heading back home.

And after that long year of travel where he thought he had learned everything about himself that there was to know, upon his return, Harry learned one more thing.

Draco Malfoy.

It had been a random Tuesday, just days after he had gotten back, when an announcement in the Daily Prophet informed him that Dracos house arrest was finally up and he could now leave the confines of Malfoy Manor.

And that had been enough. That little bit of information had had him pulling on his trainers and walking out the front door.

After a dazed trip to the Manor, one that he would never really know how he even got there, Harry had knocked on the door perhaps a tad bit too insistent.

Enter Draco.

Draco who was more pale than ever. Draco who still had the prettiest grey eyes Harry had ever seen. Draco who had tufts of snow white hair sticking up in every other direction, almost as if, even in his spare time, he loved to mock Harry.

Draco who was wearing a night robe and a tired (but slightly surprised) glare.

Oh, yeah, it was 6 a.m..

And after a sheepish apology and what was basically Harry inviting himself in for tea, they caught up with one another.

Well it was more Harry sharing his year away and Draco sharing light hearted stories about his peacocks and this one time where he was allowed to have a few people over but that didn't stop Harry from hanging onto his every word.

And then began the weekly visits.

Mostly spent at Draco's because he was still adjusting to being able to leave but Harry would gladly go where Draco wanted to be.

But then the visits became an every Saturday and Sunday.

And then a Wednesday got thrown into the mix.

And then it was an every other day.

And then Harry was at Malfoy Manor on another Tuesday, Draco actually expected him this time, and he was holding a bottle of wine.

He had been there the night before and the night before that and the night before that. Their last bottle had been demolished and it was Harry's turn to provide the alcohol.

They finished the new bottle that night.

Harry woke up in an unfamiliar bed with a heavy weight on top of his body and white hair tickling his nose.

After that morning, their visits really were no longer visits but simply two people living together.

So, no, Harry didn't fulfill his 'dream' of being an Auror.

He lived at Malfoy Manor.

He played football in their large lawn and scared the peacocks.

He baked pumpkin desserts and all their friends came over to try them.

He had a boyfriend.

He had Draco and he was Harry.

Just Harry.

[lavenderfields14]

You know how dark magic made Voldie go all snake like. So imagine a dark!Harry au where dark magic makes Harry doe/stag like

Please tell if this is a thing

[lavenderfields14]

Growing up, Harry only ever broke his bedtime when he heard the music coming from down stairs.

He would sneak out of his bed and be extra careful to skip the step that creaked when he made his way down. Only far enough, of course, to just peek out into the living room and watch his parents twirling around the settee.

He would sit for however long they danced and simply watch, enchanted by the celestial, almost electric feel in the air when they just looked at one another.

Or laughed. Or kissed. Or touched or twirled or whispered.

They were perfect together, fitting just right and so obsessed with the other that when his father's hip would bump into the side table, they simply kept moving, not caring, completely unbothered, and to utterly absorbed to stop.

Harry used to have a tendency to think back to those nights and then blame his mother and father for creating the hopeless romantic in him.

For making him so desperate to find that kind of love.

But then, one day, he did find that kind of love.

In Tom.

Tom would spin him around for hours in their nice apartment if he so much as asked.

He would buy him flowers, the ones he liked too, and even keep them alive for him considering his lack of a green thumb.

Tom would clean his glasses for him when he noticed they had the smallest of specks.

And although he didn't know very many recipes, Tom still cooked for Harry when he was feeling sad and reminiscing of Lily's dinners. He always remembered to avoid parsley, Harry's one and only allergy.

When he was with Tom, he didn't mind when his hip bumped into the side table. He could feel the electricity in the air, the majesty of their love dominating the space around them.

Harry would think back to those nights spent sitting on the staircase, his small fingers running absent mindedly over the wood of the rails and his eyes sometimes squinting from where he had forgotten his glasses, and he would find an odd sort content in those memories.

He had finally found his dance partner.

[lavenderfields14]

Harry had never felt such emptiness in his life.

He had never known such a desolate kind of loneliness regardless of how many days he spent in his little cupboard.

Every time a man or woman or child approached him to pat his shoulder or congratulate, or more popularly, thank him, he could just ever so slightly feel the dull ache in his chest, an empty cavity that couldn't be filled.

He had defeated Voldemort seventeen days ago.

But at what cost?

Yes, the lives lost in the war weighed down on him heavily, and yes, he still thought about them everyday. But, at truth, his thoughts for the dead were filled with envy rather than sorrow.

At least they could all enjoy their permanent rest, he on the other hand had been robbed of a part of his soul and forced to continue to walk the planet.

He swears that his eyes are getting duller by the day.

His bones ached more and he found he was simply no longer a morning person.

Maybe Voldemort had been one. He'll never know now.

But he does know that the little voice in the back of his mind isn't there anymore. The voice that was always there to talk him off a cliff and attempt to lead him away from danger.

It was simply... gone.

How could a shard of Voldemorts soul be so potent on Harry's whole one?

But given the fact that they had had seventeen years to bond, he supposes he really shouldn't ask that question.

He didn't miss Voldemort, nor did he miss Tom Riddle.

He shouldn't miss either of them.

And yet.

Nobody asked him if he was okay, all of them just knowing that he was experiencing the drawbacks of war, dealing with the loss and grief as one does.

No one had to know who he was actually grieving though.

[lavenderfields14]

The rhythmic crack of his nose was almost as lovely as the boy sitting on top of him.

Tom watched, admittedly a little dazed, as Harry tossed his arm back in quick succession and pounded it down onto Toms face even faster, every hit harder than the last.

Harry's body slid back and forth in choppy movements over the older boys body as he rested a hand on Tom's shoulder to hold himself up.

And Tom, well, he just took it.

Harry had been pent up all week, maybe it was because of exams or from the up and coming Quidditch match this weekend. Or maybe, as Tom suspected, it was because of an event that took place exactly eight days ago.

They had finally slept together. Well, more like Harry had finally caved to Tom's relentless pestering.

But regardless, it was clear that Harry was bothered by the situation and now he had a fucked up face to prove it.

As another punch came down, now growing weaker than all of the others, Tom felt Harry slip from his straddle and quickly raised his arms in an attempt to catch the smaller boy.

He was pushed away.

"Get off me!" Hay shouted, just a tad louder than Tom could handle for his position on the floor.

"Off you? Harry, darling, you're encasing my body with your legs and if I need to remind you, you are the one who got us in this rather promiscuous position," Tom smiled lazily, the taste of metal in his mouth and the fuzziness of his image of Harry was a rather addicting duo.

And Harry just stared at him for a long moment before his bloodied hand reared back once more.

As it turns out, it only took that last hit to fully knock Tom out.

[lavenderfields14]

Harry "I came back from the dead" potter & tom "I was Resurrected " riddle

Harry "definitely shouldn't be doing this right now" potter & tom "I don't have any morals or values " riddle

Harry "harbinger of chaos and im fucking up your plans tom " potter & tom "harry why aren't you listening to my monolog" riddle

harry "i swear if one more thing in my life goes wrong " potter & tom "I'm completely innocent officer" riddle