#// bilius likes dressing up

[dodgerkedavra]

See Me and Live [H/D Mpreg 2024 Fic Claim]

See Me and Live by DodgerKedavra

Word Count: 37,730

Rating: E

Description: Harry and Draco are roommates. They're coworkers. They're secret boyfriends. And now they're having a baby together!?

“Pansy,” Harry hisses at Pansy’s shoulder, partially exposed by the haphazard drape of her dressing gown. “What the fuck?” “I can’t come,” Pansy moans, then sniffles loudly. “I’m ill, Harry. You know how Draco gets when he’s ill. It’s not worth the risk to both of you.” “You can’t do this to me.” Pansy is doing it to Harry—the doing is already in progress, which is why he’s crouched in front of the Floo in the workroom part of their offices at Park and Sons Private Eyes.  “It’s not my choice. It’s not my fault. If I was healthy, you know I’d be there with my power skirt-suit on and my sunglasses in place and my red lipstick all ready to go. But I can’t get up. My head is throbbing.” “Take a potion!” “A potion won’t help.” Pansy coughs, a weak, pathetic little sound. It immediately raises Harry’s suspicions. What really raises his suspicions is that she wriggles her hips at the end of her cough. Harry’s not trying to look at her hips. Her dramatic sprawl puts her head halfway out of view on one end of the Floo and her hips at the other. Also, Harry happens to know that Pansy’s grate is one of those raised ones. It’s at least six inches off the floor. His former-Auror mind quickly deduces that she cannot possibly be lying on the floor. “Pansy,” he says. “I’ll be in tomorrow. Or Friday.” Pansy flaps her hand around. “When I’m fully recovered. If Draco catches this—” “If he catches loads of dick?” Harry says in his most accusatory voice. Pansy freezes. A second too late, she gasps. “How vulgar! How—” She remembers she’s supposed to be on her deathbed, tries to sniffle, and snorts instead. “How presumptuous! And how—how judgmental, Harry. There is nothing at all wrong with sexual congress and I would never begrudge Draco—” “Ron,” Harry shouts. “I know you’re there.” Pansy freezes again. From outside the grate comes a heavy sigh. A sigh that Harry knows very well. Since it’s a sigh coming from the mouth of one of his best friends in the world, Ronald Bilius Weasley.   “Listen, mate—” Harry leans closer to the flames. “I wore the outfit. I’m dressed, Pansy.” “Go upstairs and change!” “I can’t.” “Why? Draco won’t see you stripping down and—” “He’ll hear!” “Well!” Pansy’s hand flaps around in the centre of the grate. “Good! He won’t be surprised!” “If he hears me coming, he will hex me, Pansy!” “Then announce yourself!” “What, just shout that I’m coming back upstairs against the routine because I have to get naked and—” “Why would you have to get naked?” Ron asks. “Because of you,” Harry shoots back. “Mate, I swear, none of this was my idea.” “It wasn’t? Really, Ron? Pansy put you in a Body-Bind and slithered all over your dick and—” Pansy snickers. “He’s not in a Body-Bind now.” “Merlin’s balls. Get off him and come to work. I’m dressed for the mission and you’re fine.” “I’m not,” Pansy whines. “I have a deficiency.” “A dick deficiency?” Harry shouts. “An emergency dick deficiency that’s causing you to totally abandon me? A dickficiency?” From the earthquake-level shaking in Pansy’s shoulders, she’s doing her best to hide belly laughs. “Vit—” Pansy makes several hissing sounds in a row that sound even more like suppressed laughter. “Vitamin D,” she chokes out.

I laughed so much writing this that I almost became injured. From laughing. I had the time of my LIFE.

Special thanks to @babooshkart for the anklet idea, which really brought this whole thing together!

[lazuli-writes]

Outtakes - 25 quotes from the Silver Quartet

summary: 25 random quotes from each member of the Silver Quartet.

genre: angst / fluff / humor

estimated word count: 1400 words

a/n: Just trying to get back into writing more. I have so much stuff for this series, but I’m struggling to refine it. Here’s a droplet fic for Slytherin’s resident four horsemen. Remember folks, copying other people’s works is plagiarism and that’s illegal. Don’t be that kind of person. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it :)

©little-lazuli. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

Tracey

“Areyougoinhtoeatthat?”

“It must be the galleons talking.”

“We’re like a failed Monty Python.”

“If having half the prat-blood you have makes me less than, than I’ll happily be less than.”

“So the beast wouldn’t attack any of us, right… just asking.”

“You filthy barbarian, fish and chips are a DELICACY! What are you, AMERICAN?!”

“What would your mum do if we were to break the uncooked pasta noodles?”

“Fun fact: I don’t care.”

“There’s enough oil in Snape’s hair to satisfy the needs of English fish frying for at least a decade.”

“I’m a witch, not a prophet.”

“I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furio- not a single one of you know which film I’m quoting right now.”

“Banoffee pie was a gift from the heavens.”

“Oh please, by the time we reach your age Professor, I’m sure at least one of us will have made a name for ourselves other than being stuck in a castle teaching delinquents the refined arts of magical cooking.”

“Run Theo! Run” *cue the laughter as she watches Theo run from being disciplined by Bartholomew Greengrass.

“I want the skeletons. Oh and the jewelry please!!”

“It’s almost as if I don’t care.”

“Daph, you’re forgetting the fact that Ron and Theo share the same braincell… Wait… I forgot you don’t know what a brain cell is.”

“Mutually assured destruction. Truce?”

“What crawled up her butt and died?”

“Oui oui” “Tracey I am Italian, NOT FRENCH!” “Yeah yeah whatever.”

“That’s a lot of deathies. They would probably need multiple Potters going separate ways to possibly make an escape.”

“Ron you’d be Ginger Spice, Daphne you’d be Posh Spice, Theo is Baby Spice and of course I’d be Scary Spice-“ “why can’t I be sporty spicy” “because you can’t even say their name correctly Theo.”

“Do you think you’ll find something as perfect as they did?”

“Over the hills and a long way off…”

“Theo… I’ll be with you soon…”

Daphne

“So the first place you choose to hide is in a room with dead bodies?”

“She looks like the love child of a troll and a fairy.”

“Stupid mirror.”

“Ronald, why is our potion pink?”

“Father is gonna kill you two for going into the chamber you know…”

“You. Ate. My. Cauldron. Cakes.”

“You tell Ron anything and I WILL tell Tracey how you find her lips very interesting lately.”

“For a dirty stray, he does kind of look like Falkor.”

“You won’t look like that when you get old, right Ron?”

“So blue is out of the question. I guess the typical silver would look nice.”

“Do you think he found u-AHHHHHHH!”

“All I know is that I lay claim to any and all dresses, cloaks, shawls and the likes. Any clothes in this room is MINE.”

“A quintaped has five limbs.”

“Harpy, veela, vulture… same thing.”

“He’s more of a man than you will ever be.”

“It was Theo and Ron’s idea.”

“He had the breath of a damn merling!”

“You gave my parents the greatest gift they could have ever gotten in that moment… hope that their daughters… their family will survive this war. You gave them hope.”

“Not even death can dispute my love for you, Ronald Bilius Weasley. I would be blessed to be able to call you my love, my partner, my friend and my husband for eternity. By these vows… I declare, I do.”

“I think insanity is a social construct. We may think he’s unhinged beyond compare… but he’s definitely the hero in her world.”

“I killed a child Ron! How can you still look me in the eye and say you love me! HOW?”

“I’ve never killed a mutt before.”

“He asked to take my name. He felt that he had no right to give a name he was deemed unworthy of.”

“It is hard to play a game when you don’t know the rules.”

“Say hello to mother and father for me sis. I’m gonna miss you… so much.”

Theodore

“Why do you look like that?”

“Sectersuper?” “Sectum—sempra” “shut up Weasley.”

“Auntie!! Daphne and Tracey are breaking the pasta noodles!”

“You have troll breath.”

“You didn’t have to do that. You’re not bad Weasley. Not bad at all.”

“I would have called him a filthy spawn of inbreeding but then… that would have also… applied… to-“ “SHUT UP THEO!” “What, it’s the truth Daph!”

“Oh yes, because the lion is the most amazing creature in the world. *eye roll* When a lion talks and starts killing witches and wizards, talk to me then Weasel.”

“I didn’t mean for Malfoy to call you Weasel. Accident, truly it was!”

“Why are you always staring at Ron?”

“Why would he think he even had a chance with Trace?! He looks like the love child of a hag and a house elf.”

“I’m telling you my dear cousin, that Malfoy has been staring at Ronald’s bottom almost as much as he was staring at yours.”

“I’m gonna be a rich man!!” “You already are a rich man Theo.” “Then I’m gonna be an even richer man!! I call dibs on all weapons!!”

“I don’t know why!! I was too busy saving your sister to think ‘oh how much money is this worth’.”

“It’s not my fault you failed to save mother.”

“God save the witches and wizards.”

“I’m not staring at Tracey you imbecile!”

“You cannot be both annoying and lacking magical prowess. Please pick one failure to endure.”

“If you must know, banoffee pie is actually scrumptious. If you are going to advertise your lack of taste, please do so away from my presence.”

“Why do we have to go back to Ron’s old bat of an aunt? She’s so mean.”

“If you wanna be my friend… you gotta get with my… other friends.” “Horrible rendition sporty spicy.” “Shut up Ron!!”

“I wanna live in a small cottage when I choose to settle down. I want a place surrounded and engulfed by all of my favorite plants.”

“Still got troll breath I see.”

“I wish I could see what is it you see every time you look at me Trace.”

“I love her. So damn much.”

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!!!”

Ronald

“Do you have an eye problem?”

“Theo has a bag of bezoars for a brain.”

“Daphne will kill us if she knows what we’re doing and Tracey will laugh at us if we get hurt. I already know.”

“Stupid mirror.”

“You hear that Tracey, us peasants mustn’t talk anymore.”

“Do you think Snape has a pet under that robe? He always smells.”

“Potter, Granger and Longbottom seem to have this obsession with all things ‘not their business’ that it’s actually quite funny at times.”

“Me and you remember Valentine’s Day very differently.”

“Bill and Charlie ran away the first chance they got. Percy has a superiority complex, Fred is sadistic. George just thinks Fred’s farts smell amazing, and Ginny has this weird habit of hero worshipping people who aren’t heroes.”

“Theo… could you think of anything else other than… her.” “Shove off and stay out of my head Ron.”

“Bloody bint… that thing is worse than Snape…” “Ron that was a quintaped.” “An ugly one at that!”

“Some of my family has this… belief that I’ve been ingenuous about my character. When really, they just don’t seem to understand me all that much.”

“I.. don’t know… I can’t find the words to tell you how I’m feeling Daph.”

“Muggles do have the big boom booms. What are they called again? Nookies?” “Nukes Ron.” “Oh.”

“How do you think she’ll kill us for leaving? Do you think she’ll really castrate me?”

“You want to… marry me? Why?”

“Auntie, if you turn me away now, I’m literally gonna slap you with my hand.” *proceeds to wave his amputated arm, much to the silent horror of Muriel Prewett*

“There will never be a second in this lifetime or the next, that I will ever stop loving you Daphne. You bless me with the honor of being able to call you mine and I yours. By these vows I declare, I do.”

“Still sour about the Manor Lady Lestrange? If it’s any consolation, your husband’s wand works wonderfully.”

“I mean I could… but why would I want to do that Daph?”

“All I ever wanted was to be a real Weasley, dad. And I fucked that up the moment that hat screamed Slytherin.”

“And now we are both here. Rotting in Azkaban. Yet only one of us has any chance of leaving.”

“You what?” “I gave birth Ron.” “. . .You were pregnant?”

“This is your grandma and grandpa. That’s your aunties Tracey and Tori, and your funny uncle Theo.”

“Daphne did you hear!! Albus is a Slytherin HAHAHAHAHAH I can’t wait to shove that in Ginny and Harry’s face.”

[alexandra-emerson]

Marietta's Revenge

As I stir in the pearl dust, the color of the brew changes to that mother-of-pearl sheen to which I’ve become accustomed. Next, the rising steam turns into spirals, and I’m overcome by the scents of cinnamon biscuits, French cologne, and salty air.

I wave the steam away from my face and carefully pour in a nearby pitcher of water. The color of the potion pales. Now, it needs to simmer for thirty minutes so some of the potency can burn off. I set the spoon to stir in languide circles and put a timer on my wand before leaving the room.

Away from the steaming potion, it’s cold, and I pull my dressing gown tight as I walk through my flat. Back in the bedroom, I dress quickly. I avoid looking in the mirror. I already know the black trousers and tailored blouse I’ve picked suit my slim frame. I don’t need to see the proof.

I choose a dark green robe and toss it on the bed, then stand by the window, watching the Muggles scurry along the pavement below my window. Like bloated ants.

In the bathroom I clean my mouth, brush my hair, and wash my face. All without meeting my reflection. But soon, I can’t put it off anymore. It’s time to confront the face in the mirror. I wince, just like I always do. Did she have to make the pustules so close together? So dark? Did she have to ensure they’d leave a scar?

Rage courses through me as I dip a few fingers into Lady Hyde’s Cover-All. I spread the cream over the scars that still spell the word SNEAK.

It was one mistake. One. Bloody. Mistake. And looking back, I still can’t see what else I could have done. It wasn’t my fault the Ministry put the wrong person in charge. It wasn’t my fault that person ended up being a horrid woman who had it out for Harry Potter. That her actions almost got in the way of him saving the world damn world. How was I supposed to know all that? I was a kid! And my mum’s job was in danger! What was I supposed to do?! I—

My wand trills, breaking into my thoughts.

I touch it to silence it, smearing the smooth hazel wood with brown makeup. I scowl, hit my hands with a quick cleaning spell, then wipe my wand with a towel, causing sparks to fly out the end. I look at the unhappy face in the mirror, then watch my frown deepen as I see the faint marks under the so-called cover-all.

Cover-all my arse. It can barely conceal a few scars. And I’ll need to reapply it in a few hours anyway. Stupid Lady Hyde and her worthless make-up.

I throw the towel into the sink and march out of the room, back to my cauldron.

This is all Hermione Granger’s fault. Everyone says she’s perfect, the Golden Girl, a selfless advocate for the underserved. Well, I’m underserved, and undeserved, and I don’t see her trying to help me! She refuses to remove the jinx. She says she can’t, but I know that’s a lie. She could, if she wanted to, but she’s a vindictive bitch. 

Unfortunately for her, she’s not alone.

My potion is ready. I add the final ingredient—a strip of a Chudley Canons hat I stole years ago—and carefully pour it into six vials. After applying a cushioning charm to each vial, I slip them into a box, fill it with crumpled pieces of paper I tear from the Daily Prophet, then address it to my dear sister, Eliana Edgecombe.

I smile and plop back on the chair. I think of Eliana, and I wonder at Hermione’s stupidity. For the brightest witch of the age, she thought nothing of hiring as her assistant the sister of a person she so thoroughly wronged. Nor did she think anything of letting that sister bring her tea every morning. Of drinking that tea. Of never checking it for potions.

My smile is so large, it’s hurting my cheeks. My eyes land on the article in the Daily Prophet, which is at the top since I’ve torn off a few pages.

War Heroes Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to Marry This Summer

I almost bend forward to read the article again, but there’s no need. I have it memorized by now. Hermione Jean Granger and Ronald Bilius Weasley will be married at his childhood home in June. They’ll be using traditional wizarding vows, complete with a soul binding spell.

I cackled when I first read that part. Even now, it draws a small laugh from me.

They almost broke it off several times. This isn’t in the Prophet. I learned this from Witch Weekly, which dedicated three separate articles to the mystery of why Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley always come so close to breaking things off while on holiday. (Eliana can’t provide Hermione’s tea every day.)

But they have no more holidays planned before the wedding. Three months. Just three more months, and I’ll be done.

Their souls will be bound, and Eliana will stop delivering special tea. That’s when Hermione will truly see the man she married, away from the cloud of teenage infatuation and potion-fueled adoration. She won’t see the prince from her dreams, but an ordinary man. Not a bad man, but certainly a terrible one for her. 

She’ll tear apart a dozen libraries researching marriage bonds, and eventually come to realize they’re inescapable. That she can either spend the rest of her life with Ronald Weasley, or alone. 

I don’t plan to tell her my role in it. I’m not stupid. But I don’t need to see the devastation first-hand. Simply knowing my part in it is enough.

I’m not the only one who will be forever haunted by a mistake from my youth.

I laugh. A loud, hearty sound that echoes around the cold and empty flat.

A/N: I wrote this for a recent writing challenge, where we were writing first-person for a character we've never written or considered. Hope you enjoyed it! It definitely gave a better explanation for Ron/Hermione than canon did, haha.

[wilius-beasley]

where: Hogwarts Hallways when: February 7, 1978 who: Bilius Weasley and Anyone

The Hogsmeade weekend before Valentine’s is coming closer and closer by the day and still, Bilius had no date. That didn’t sit well with the Gryffindor. It was his second to the last Valentine’s in Hogwarts and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the most out of it. 

Bilius’ love life since the beginning of his sixth year has been uneventful so far. Sure he had a couple of hook-ups here and there but those hardly counted. He might not seem like it given his impulsive and devil-may-care attitude. But he definitely missed going out of his way to make a significant other happy and being taken care of just the same. Bilius was afraid that perhaps his usual lines and moves were getting a bit rusty so he hit the Hogwarts Hallways to find out.

Equipped with a clipboard and eyeglass frames with the lenses removed that he snatched from the lost and found, he went out of the Gryffindor Common Room and started looking for free students that he could interview. “Hi!” he approached one. “Do you have the time to take a quick Valentine’s survey?” It was less of a question and more of an assumption. “Great,” he immediately added without waiting for a reply. “Describe to me your ideal date.”

[puppy-coded]

Waffles DNI{R.W.}

warnings: Reader has problems with waffles, terrible siblings, definite mentions of food

pairing: platonic!Ron x reader

word count: 883 words about hating waffles

A/N: So... for context... my mutuals and I probably should not hang out in real life. @authorofemotion​ started this. We’re all insane weirdos.

You and Ron were walking into the Great Hall together for breakfast after he waited patiently for you to get ready. It was nice having a friend as sweet as Ron, according to you. You two were talking about random things, Ron trying to analyze your dreams because of divination, and actively trying not to run into pillars, ghosts, or other students.

You two got to your house table and, despite sitting in front of the waffles, you took toast with butter for breakfast.

“Okay, I have to ask: What’s wrong with you?” Ron asked, pulling his plate closer to him. He’s always known you to not like waffles, for whatever reason.

“Lots of things,” You shrugged. “Please be more specific.”

“Why don’t you like waffles?” He asked, taking a bite of his own breakfast.

“They are of the devil,” You said dramatically. “Long story, don’t ask.”

He shrugged and kept eating. “Okay. Just know that I will ask for that story in the future.”

🧇 🧇 🧇

Ronald Bilius Weasley would not leave you alone. He thought it was so absurd that you didn’t like waffles. He’s seen you destroy pancakes like nobody’s business but waffles? They were made of the same batter and just had little pockets in them as syrup holders.

Every time Ron was about to ask for the waffle story either a teacher would start talking or he’d get distracted.

It was a long two hours in Ron’s eyes.

He forgot about it and never mentioned it for the rest of the school year.

🧇 🧇 🧇

“Hey Ronald!” You chirped, making your way to the Gryffindor table. Last day of term really does things for the happiness scale.

“Hey (Y/N), ready for summer?” He asked excitedly.

“Always! Which place are we heading to this time? Yours or mine?” You asked.

Ron thought about for a moment, at least, he looked like he was thinking. “Yours. Probably less chaotic than mine,” He decided.

You cringed at that assessment. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’re an only child right?” No answer. “Right?”

“... No...?” You said, trying to process what just came out of Ron’s mouth. “I thought it was common knowledge, I talk about my siblings all the time.”

“I have never once heard you talk about your siblings. Maybe you do to your housemates. How many siblings?” Ron groaned, wanting a semi-peaceful half of a summer break.

“... three,” You said quietly.

“Three? Oh thank the lord! I thought we were going to have the same amount from the way you were acting,” Ron said, clearly relieved at the information.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Alright, let’s get planning. We have all day today and on the train tomorrow.”

🧇 🧇 🧇

You had dressed comfortably in your muggle clothes for the long long train ride and had a bag of everything you thought you would need during it. Notebook, pens, pillow, blanket. Everything. Not necessities but nice to have for a long train ride.

You two planned, talked, and napped the entire time. It was fun. You failed to, however, prepare Ron for the chaos of your family.

“So... Are we going to talk about waffles now?” He asked awkwardly. “And why you hate them?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “If you must know... my siblings are animals. Probably stocked up on ingredients for them,” You huffed with your arms crossed.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. I wish my siblings would make me waffles.”

You laughed at Ron’s very innocent statement and didn’t say anything. Before long you were napping. Blissful sleep before the storm of waffles.

🧇 🧇 🧇

When it was time to get off the train it felt a little refreshing. It was nice to be back in London with nothing exciting happening and nothing that could traumatize you for life.

You got your things and basically dragged Ron to your parents. 

“Your parents seem like perfectly normal people,” Ron whispered.

“I never said my parents were animals, I said my siblings were,” You reminded him.

You could hear your dad laugh at what you said since, you know, you were only a few feet away from them and he probably heard you.

“Ready to go to the animal hut you guys?” Your mom asked, also probably hearing you.

“Yes!”

“Is it too late to go back?”

🧇 🧇 🧇

You were nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt as your mom unlocked the door. Knowing what was behind it you braced yourself. 

You knew it was going to come to a shock to Ron, which is why you decided to be a bad friend and not tell him.

The second that door opened and your parents were through you heard your siblings.

“(Y/N)’s home!” Followed by waffles being thrown at you. 

It was a storm of waffles. You immediately put your arms to your face and yell out. You grabbed Ron and headed for your room. You screamed and flailed your arms the whole way like someone would if there was a bug right by their ear.

You shoved Ron inside your room and slammed the door behind you. Slightly out of breath and leaning on the door.

“Now I see why you don’t like waffles,” Ron breathed out.

[hillnerd]

I'm not sure if this has been explored yet, but how do you picture an AU where, instead of Harry being the orphaned Chosen One, it was Ron? I've seen posts on what Harry's personality would be like if he weren't so traumatized from the get-go, and I'm wondering about how Ron's personality would change if he didn't have Molly and Arthur in his life (or even his siblings)! It's sort of a swap AU that I haven't really seen others discuss.

This one got away from me and I ended up writing a 3k AU ficlet!

I think a LOT of it would depend on who he grows up with instead.

Uncle Bilius or Aunt Muriel are the ones we know- but there might be other Weasleys he'd grow up with- but I can see Aunt Muriel feeling entitled to taking him. And Bilius (who I always pictured as dying from complications of alcoholism in the series)  after losing his brother Arthur, Bilius sees this poor kid trapped with Muriel and decides to sober up so he can be there for Ron.

-------------------------------------------

Ron Weasley, the Boy Who Lived

“So I’ve performed a kingside castling. What do you do?” Uncle Bilius asked.

“I’m moving out my knight to F6,” Ron replied, watching as the piece moved into the place.

“Then I’m moving my queen to E2 to protect my bishop,” said Uncle Bilius, a smile on his scruffy face. “Congratulations, you’re setting up a Siberian Trap!”

Ron beamed. He loved it when Uncle Bilius would come over to their house. It was rare he had company aside from the random Weasley cousin— but they never wanted to stay around long since Aunt Muriel was a battle axe.

They continued and Ron quickly won the game. He wasn’t very good at remembering the names for the different strategies, but he was good at executing them.

“That was very good, Ron! You been reading that book I gave you?”

“Er… Not really,” Ron said with a sheepish shrug. 

“Instinctively knew it? Fucking brilliant,” said the older man with a shake of his shaggy head. “You keep it up and you could be a World Champion.”

Ron’s face warmed at the compliment. 

“Ronald!” came a piercing yell from the other room making both of them wince.

“Coming, Aunt Muriel!” he called back.

“Been having fun with your Uncle Bilius for too long?” Bilus asked with a rueful grin.

“Yeah…” Ron smiled before his face fell. “I think I have a piano lesson coming up.”

“Do you enjoy playing piano?”

He gave a shrug. “Not really.”

It’s not like his opinion on anything mattered. There were certain things he was supposed to do and so he did them.

Aunt Muriel would remind him quite often he had to live his life for everyone that had died— so that meant doing all the things they hadn’t and succeeding at them. He needed to be familiar with all the refined activities, do well in all his studies, be respectable and know the right people by name.

Ron was familiar enough with all the refined stuff. He did very well with his tutor, but that was mostly because Mr Lupin was a brilliant teacher and not because Ron was all that good of a student. As for respectability, it mostly came down to if his shoes were polished and his hair was combed right, if Aunt Muriel’s assessments had anything to do with it— and he was far sloppier than she liked and ‘far more Weasley than Prewitt!’ The right people tended to be blood-purist prigs from Bilius’s descriptions, and definitely didn’t include his Uncle Bilius. He never got to meet the right people, of course, because he never got to meet anyone. 

Bilius walked him to Aunt Muriel who was seated at her usual high back chair. She was dressed up so that meant proper company was coming.

“Took you long enough!” Muriel said, tapping her cane in front of her with both hands.

“Ron’s really coming along with his chess!” Bilius told her patting Ron on the shoulder.

"Which has little to do with you, I'm sure, Bilius,” she said with an eye roll. 

“Quite right! The lad’s a natural. He’s able to do all sorts of incredibly advanced strategies without even looking at the books we give him.”

“Imagine what he’d do if he ever sat down and actually read.”

“I read,” Ron answered.

 She gave a particularly powerful glare.

“Comics don’t count!”

“I read real books!" he declared before quietly adding, "I just haven’t read the chess ones much.”

She rolled her eyes. She did that a lot when he spoke. She mostly wanted reports of what he’d accomplished that day. Anything else just seemed to annoy her.

“When you get to Hogwarts we’ll see how your lack of discipline goes without a firm hand to bring you to task.”

“Give him a break, Muriel,” Bilius said, hand still on Ron’s shoulder.

“Oh? Should we just let him be a idler like his—”

“You won’t be insulting Arthur, you old bag!” Bilius roared, standing taller to his full height, chest puffing up and sizable midsection nearly toppling Ron over. “He was one of the best men in this world. Just because he didn’t have old money like you he gets trashed, but he was smart and hard working and brave and Ron’s every inch like him.”

Ron didn’t know what to do when he was compared to his dad like this. Part of him liked it— liked thinking there was any connection to his dad besides his coloring and height. But came the sting that he’d never really know if it was true. For all he knew, Bilius was just saying it to tee Muriel off. 

“Tea!” she declared, looking quite scandalized by Bilius’s impertinence. 

No matter how often they butted heads nor how often she noted how awful Bilius was, she still let him come around for some reason. Ron didn’t care why, he was just happy to have any company at all.

—--------

September first finally arrived, and with it excitement and dread. He wanted to do his family proud, he wanted to make friends, and he desperately wanted a chance to be away from Aunt Muriel… And then there was the ‘boy-who-lived’ bit of things.

It was easy to spot him— tall and gangling with freckles and bright red hair— the two times he’d been allowed out and about in Wizarding society he was inundated with random people wanting to shake his hand and pay respects and talk about his dead family. He’d awkwardly shake hands and say ‘thanks’ after old ladies would cry on him, saying how tragic it all was and how honored they were to meet him, which made zero sense because all he’d done is not die. He hadn’t done anything at all to do it either. 

Bilius brought him to the station as Muriel had little interest in ‘finagling with teeming crowds of children and their overly emotional parents.’ 

“Got everything packed?”

“Yeah I think so,” said Ron, adjusting his shoulder bag and looking around the platform. Everyone else was surrounded by family. 

Just down the way was a little boy around his age. He had messy black hair and was laughing as a little redheaded toddler with equally wild hair hung from his hand. Another pudgy blonde boy had a pair of parents hugging him and handing him a toad.

“Chin up, lad,” Bilius said, giving him a little cuff to the chin. “You’re gonna have a fine time! Meet some kids your own age, maybe blow up a cauldron or two, get to fly without Muriel chasing us with her cane.”

“Ye-eah,” Ron laughed, picturing the last time they’d taken his broom out and he’d accidentally snipped the top of her hedge with his broom. 

Looking around to make sure no one saw, Ron put his arms around his Uncle’s full middle and gave him a hug which was firmly returned. 

“Write me when you feel like it,” his Uncle said, a little hoarse. 

“I will,” Ron told him earnestly. “See you at Christmas!”

Ron pushed his cart further down the train then realized he had to get his trunk on board and it might be a hair difficult. He turned around to ask for Bilius’s help, but his Uncle was already gone. 

With a sigh, Ron started attempting to pull the trunk onto the train. He was strong, but it was awkward and not going well when his trainer slipped and he ended up arse-flat on the ground.

“Ron, are you alright?” came a familiar hoarse voice.

He looked up into the face of, “Mr Lupin! What’re you doing here?”

Mr Lupin was looking a bit shabby and tired, but otherwise in good spirits. 

“I’m here to see my friend’s son off. He’s a first year, like you. I bet you two would like each other,” he said looking around himself. “Here, Harry! Come over, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!”

The same wild haired boy from before came running up.

“Harry, this is Ron. He’ll be in first year with you. He’s the boy I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a smile and a handshake. “Are you the one who’s so good at chess?”

Ron looked at Remus, surprised he’d been talked about enough for someone else to remember facts. “I’m pretty good, yeah.”

“If you have a set we can play it on the train ride there. My dad says it’s an awfully long ride.”

“I’ve got one,” Ron replied, patting his bag. 

“Great! Let’s put you in with me, then,” said Harry, pulling out his wand. “I’ll help with your trunk.”

“Ah ah ah,” came a woman’s voice. She had long red hair and eyes just like Harry’s. She quickly lifted the wand from his hand. “No wand work until you’re on the train! How many times have I had to tell you?”

“Sorry, Mum,” said Harry, but he didn’t look all that sorry. 

“He’s gotta get the practice in sometime, Lils,” a man who could only be Harry’s father said, toddler on his hip. He and Harry looked exactly alike, except for the green eyes. 

“Yes, and that practice will be. On. The. Train,” Mrs Potter gritted out.

Mr Potter gave a besotted grin then waved his wand— with a Leviosa the trunk was put inside the train.

“Well, come and say goodbye,” Mrs Potter said, reaching out her arms towards her son.

Ron felt a pang as he saw Mr and Mrs Potter hugging their son, and the little toddler using this as an opportunity to grab Harry’s glasses.

“Reee,” she squealed, wilding waving them and nearly poking herself in the eye. The family all laughed and nuzzled her, and his parents looked so content. Had Ron’s parents been that happy? Had he grabbed glasses off of his brother’s face? Had his mother given him warm hugs and admonished the boys as they got up to no good? Had his father had a little mischief in his eye as he indulged them all?

Realizing he’d been staring for too long, Ron quickly boarded the train and found his seat. 

Mr Lupin came into the compartment, and looked around with a smile. “These compartments haven’t changed at all.”

Ron gave a shrug and looked out the window at all the families, realizing he could still hear the Potters.

“Try not to get into too much trouble,” said Mrs Potter.

“At least, don’t get caught!” said Mr Potter. Mrs Potter let out a little groan but quickly they were all laughing. “And Harry, there’s something else. The boy you were just introduced to was Ron Weasley.”

“What?” Harry asked, voice high. “The Boy-Who—”

“The very same,” said his father sounding more serious. “He doesn’t need you making a big fuss about that or asking rude questions.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Harry protested.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Mrs Potter assured him. “Just be kind. He’s not had it easy.”

Ron’s face steadily pinked up.

“Have a wonderful time at Hogwarts,” Lupin said, with a pat to Ron’s shoulder, clearly having heard everything too. His once-tutor moved with greater speed than Ron had ever seen off the train. He could hear Lupin’s voice loudly say, “Well, Harry! What house are you hoping to be in?”

Ron smiled, realizing Lupin had given him time to recover and sort himself before Harry got to the compartment.

As the train got going, one of Harry’s friends, Neville Longbottom joined them as well. He’d seen him with his toad on the platform. 

“Where’s your toad at?” Ron asked, as he fiddled with his chess set, not wanting to force it on anyone. 

“My — Oh no!” Neville moaned before giving a smile. “He’s always hopping off. My Uncle Algie gave him to me. Bit of a pest, really.”

Ron had never had a pet. He’d hoped Muriel would allow him an owl, but she’d pointed out he knew no one to correspond with besides her, so what was the point? Maybe he’d get an owl after he’d made friends. If he made friends, Ron hastily corrected.

“Let’s look for him,” Harry said, getting up. 

Neville and Harry quickly strode into the corridor, leaving Ron holding his closed chess set.

“Ron, you coming?” Harry asked, poking his head into the compartment.

“Oh right!” Ron said, happy to be included. “What’s it named?”

“Trevor,” Neville sighed before calling the name down the corridor. 

They’d been looking for a while when they saw a group of boys all in wizards robes blocking the corridor, backs to them. The one in the middle looked about their age and had bright blonde hair. 

Probably a Malfoy Ron thought to himself.

The other two weren’t distinguishing to look at other than their pure bulk and resemblance to a pair of bodyguards. Both were as tall as Ron and nearly twice as wide.

 Behind them came a wobbly high pitched voice saying, “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me pass!”

The boys gave a mocking laugh, and one of the bodyguards did a high pitched impression of the voice.

“Clearly, friendless and Muggleborn,” the blonde said with a derisive snort. “I mean, look at its clothes!”

Ron stepped forward, his fist clenching, but Harry burst ahead.

“Hey! What’re you doing, Malfoy?” Harry barked, marching over, his wand already drawn.

“Ohhh, if it isn’t Potty,” Malfoy said, turning around with a horrible sneer on his face. “I’m surprised they let you come to Hogwarts. I was pretty sure your Mudblood mum was going to keep you running around in the mud with Muggles.”

Ron and Neville both gasped at the horrible display of racism, but Harry was already letting a jinx out of his wand. One of the bodyguards around Malfoy managed to deflect the spell right into the person the group had been bullying; with a horrid squeal the little girl fell to the ground.

Draco’s wand was out, but Harry followed up the missed jinx with a punch. Neville joined him and soon the corridor was nothing but fists and swears. 

Ron gave a good step on Malfoy’s head as he went to the crying girl on the ground.

“You okay?” he asked.

She had a pair of antlers growing from her bushy brown hair, and her teeth had turned into chipmunk teeth.

“I don’t know,” she whimpered, tentatively feeling the antlers. A few Prefects had come into the corridor and were pulling the boys apart. 

“What are you blithering idiots thinking!” a burly Scottish Gryffindor Prefect said, pulling Harry off of Malfoy.

“He was bullying that girl, then he called my mum an M-word!” Harry snarled, aiming a kick at one of the bodyguards on the floor.

“Did he now?” the prefect said. “Well… Well, don’t fight in the corridors then.”

“Whaaad?” Malfoy cried out, blood gushing from his nose. “He hid me in the nose! He needs a dedenshun!”

“Aye, but it’s a bit early for that without you being even sorted into houses. Doesnae start the year well, ye ken?” he said, shaking his head and casting an Episkey on Malfoy and Neville who both had bloody noses. The prefect struggled with the girl’s antlers before giving up. “Now eff off to your compartments! I need to plan out my Quidditch team!”

“But- but I still have horns!” the girl squealed from behind her hands. 

“And teeth,” Ron added. 

She felt her teeth before flushing a deep radish color and her eyes becoming glossy. “No. Those were there to begin with.”

Ron went nearly the same color of radish as she. “Right. Erm, Harry— you know how to fix the antlers?”

Harry had just finished repairing his glasses and raised his wand. “Yeah. Mum always makes me learn the counterjinxes.”

She glared at Harry as he undid the spell and the antlers started to shrink.

“Might take a bit for those to go away entirely. And sorry about that. It was meant for Malfoy.”

“You’re not supposed to do spells in the corridor!” she said, poking her finger in Harry’s face. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. Ron, want to play chess?”

“Erm, sure. Yeah,” Ron said looking back to the bucktoothed girl. Malfoy had said she was friendless and Muggleborn. That couldn’t be an easy combination to start the year with. He knew what it was to be friendless. He’d been that his whole life. And his dad had always loved Muggles and Muggleborns according to Bilius. “Do you want to come with us? Play some chess?”

Harry gave him a look that clearly said not to do it. Ron ignored him.

“I would, but I found this toad,” she said, pulling a toad from her pocket. “I need to find its owner.”

“It’s Trevor!” Neville said, wiping the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand, then thrusting the bloody hand towards the girl. She shriveled with distaste at the bloody hand.

“I’ll get it.” Ron grabbed the toad and handed it to Neville. “We were looking for Neville’s toad when we ran into you.”

“Thanks for keeping him from being squished during the fight,” Neville beamed.

“So, you want to sit with us?” Ron asked the girl again. She looked at the unwelcoming Harry and bloody Neville, then at Ron, biting her lip.

“Alright,” she said, a small smile on her face, before thrusting her hand out. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

“I’m Ron. Ron Weasley,” he replied, shaking her hand.

“Are you really?” Neville asked as they went into the compartment. “I’ve read so much about you!” Hermione said, a broad grin on her face. “I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!”

[END]

author's note So that was a fun little exploration.

Harry is much more forthright and prone to spell around as he's grown up with James Lily and Sirius all being so brilliant - and he's a bit more prone to speak his mind as he's more confident- so some more snark and lack of control on his part.

Ron is more shy and less prone to use his fists because he didn't grow up in a rowdy house- he's a bit less prone to speak his mind and more likely to sit back and observe. He's a much sadder Ron, and still insecure because he didn't get much socialization with peers- so he's a bit more patient and empathetic to Hermione.

Neville is much less shy and insecure- he's a bit more clueless and 'boyish' and confident- and just generally happier.

Also had Oliver Wood make an appearance as well as Remus.

Bilius was fun to write too

[ahankar1610]

What do you have on Cedrella and her sisters?

Cedrella Weasley née Black

Tbh, I was stunned that our dear Arthur's mother is a Black, and it was never bloody discussed.

I had seen thousands of fic which discuss, Potter family history, the Black family and even Malfoy family 🙄, even the random DE's family history is discussed and our own Weasleys, the main family of whole HP series.

Though I have main headcanons on Cedrella, I can add some on Callidora and Charis.

Callidora

The eldest of Arcturus and Lysandra Black. She's the one with the cold personality, yet she was warmer to her sister only (later to her husband Harfang).

She's the one who maintains order. Cedrella was three years younger than her, yet she adored her the most. Charis was five years younger than her but Callidora always wants to keep her out of trouble.

She married Harfang when she was seventeen. She was in her last year when they were betrothed. She hated Harfang and his stupid jovial attitude. They were engaged because of the business deal which was created between the Blacks and the Longbottoms. It took her a year to warm up with Harfang. It didn't took her long to fell in love with him. They both had a happy long life after that.

Cedrella

She was the favourite daughter of Arcturus, sharp, intellectually smart and a little arrogant.

She shares good bonds with both of her sisters and was the prefect in her fifth year.

She was always fascinated Septimus. She used to be bewildered how someone can be so happy even with small amount of money Weasleys inherited.

She start spending time with Septimus and it didn't took them long to fell in love.

Cedrella didn't wanted to leave her family, so Septimus formally went to Arcturus to ask for Cedrella's hand for marriage. He faced nothing but humiliation from the Black family.

After this debacle, Cedrella's marriage was arranged to the heir of Rosier family. Cedrella left her family and eloped with Septimus, she got blasted from Black Tapestry.

Her first born was Patrick, second was Bilius and third was Arthur.

Her family never accepted her, though Longbottoms and Weasleys had good relationship, Callidora still refused to have any contacts with her.

The other pureblood families also didn't left any chance to taunt her or sneering at her whenever she crosses pass with them. Treatment of their mother led Arthur and his brothers to despise the house of snakes.

Septimus died in 1980 during the first war, the Lestranges were the ones who attacked him but Cedrella knew who were the ones who planned this attack.

She wrote a letter to her parents and sisters, berating them as she had lost her love because if their pettiness. The letter left Arcturus full of grief and regret on his death bed.

Cedrella lived more, happily pouring all of her love to her grandchildren. Ron and Ginny are too close to her heart (sorry, I can't help it 😅) as Ron was born not long after Septimus' demise. Ron also loved Cedrella as she was the one who taught him chess, she also gave him grandpa Septimus' chessboard which she kept with care.

Cedrella died in 1986, with her whole family around her, who this time loved her more than her past family can ever.

Charis

Charis was always the one who recieved the adoration from both of her sisters.

She was always the naive one who always thought that pleasing her parents is the main motive of her life.

She always acted the way her parents wanted, tried to look like Callidora because her parents loved how Callidora dresses. Kept her demeanor like that if Cedrella because her father always said that Cedrella is the perfect lady of Black family.

She was married to Casper Crouch at the age of sixteen, her marriage was fixed earlier because Black family cannot suffer another daughter betraying their beliefs.

Charis hate Cedrella, it doesn't matter that she still cries when she remembers herself playing dolls with her elder sister. She should be like Callidora who never shows any kind of emotion which relates to their long lost sister, though she can still remember how Callidora longingly gazes at the empty seat during Christmas, which was once used to be her sisters'.

Charis cannot be there when her father was dying. She got to know about Cedrella's letter from Callidora. Callidora died not long time after their father, their mother of course died after her wedding and they blamed Cedrella and still felt disgusted with themselves. Callidora handed her the letter she once wrote for Cedrella, she wanted her to give this letter to Cedrella if she ever got the strength to do so, because Callidora herself could never do that.

Charis waited until she heard of Cedrella's death. She attended her funeral. She lived on with regret and remorse. She heard of the war, the fate of her nephew Bartemius and his son and was heartbroken that again one of her kin died for these beliefs which ended up in breaking them.

Charis was ill after the end of her war, her children who were settled in New York asked her what they can do for her. She asked for her only nephew, Arthur, and to hers' and her children's surprise, he came. She apologized for everything and handed him the letter and asked him if he can read it to all of his family so her sister might hear their apologies.

Charis died in December of 1999. Arthur and whole Weasley clan attended her funeral, showing their forgiveness.

[nedweasleys-archive]

isn’t that EDWIN NED WEASLEY? yeah that is him, outside the three broomsticks! he used to be in GRYFFINDOR but he now works as a BEATER for the WIMBORNE WASPS. sybil once said that he reminded her of a grin that splits the cut on your lip; sneaking out before the sun comes up, boots in hand; being physically incapable of backing down from a dare; the heavy swing of a wooden bat; constantly shit-talking your brothers, but thumping anyone else that tries. anyway i’ve heard he’s still BOISTEROUS, IMPULSIVE and CAVALIER, he’s TWENTY-FIVE now but some things never change! i wonder how being a PUREBLOOD is affecting him after school, especially now he’s an ASSOCIATE of the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX? i guess only time will tell…

injury mention tw

The middle child of three, Ned Weasley has always had something of a talent for trouble, running head-first into danger without so much as a backward glance.

He does not like being called Edwin. Do so at your peril.

Determined to keep up with his older brother, Bilius, Ned quickly learned never to back down from anything he perceived as a challenge. It was about proving his worth, asserting that he could damn well do anything he set his mind to - a trait that’s been as much to his advantage as its been to his detriment.

Ned is his mother’s son, the pair of them being so obstinate that they’re frequently at loggerheads. Ultimately, though, their bickering means precious little - family is everything to Ned, and there isn’t a single Weasley he wouldn’t go to bat for. 

Arguably, Septimus and Cedrella Weasley’s biggest mistake was gifting their second son a toy broom. It wasn’t brand new, of course, but Ned loved it more than anything, and would tear around their garden for hours terrorising the gnomes and their unfortunate family cat.

He fell off that broom more times than he can count, but his perseverance ultimately made him an excellent flier, and his tendency to cannonball through anything in his path made him an absolutely terrifying quidditch player. Family games were always that bit more dangerous with Ned participating.

One one such occasion, Ned almost ploughed his broom straight into a tree, but Arthur caught him in mid-air, saving him from the collision, and immediately dropping him on his arse. Still, a bruised tailbone is better than another broken leg. 

By the time he finally went off to Hogwarts, Ned could safely say he’d broken nearly every major bone in his body - some more than once. Some more than twice. 

Sorting him into Gryffindor was a no-brainer. The hat barely touched the top of his head before his new house was called, and he sauntered off to join his peers, grinning from ear to ear.

Ned wore the title ‘blood traitor’ as a badge of honour. He was never afraid of its implications, being arrogant enough to think he could simply fight anyone that said a word against him or his brothers. And he did a lot of fighting in his time at school.

The next few years passed in a whirlwind. As far as Ned was concerned, Hogwarts was just a social club with lessons serving as intermittent, boring obstacles to him having fun. He never bothered much with his studies, spending more time in detention and at parties than in the library. 

If there was anything he was good at, it was quidditch - it’s probably the only reason he wasn’t suspended. He joined the Gryffindor team the moment he was able, managing to put a little finesse on his extremely aggressive playstyle over the years.

In his final year at school, Ned was scouted by the Appleby Arrows. He played for them for three years, after which he was finally signed to the big leagues, earning himself a place with the Wimborne Wasps.

Since graduating, he’s basically been bouncing around in search of the next good time. 

other things

boggart: it’s literally this but she’s in a wedding dress patronus: otter (incorporeal) (he’s got lots of happy memories but he’s kind of a shitty wizard) wand: oak and dragon heartstring 13″

wcs

besties???

gryffindor quidditch teammates???

hookups past and present!!!

wimborne wasps fans?????

[accioromione]

can you do a fanfic about Ron and Hermione's wedding from Harrys perspective please I will bake you something

There Harry stood, in elegant black dress robes, with his unruly hair sleeked back. Next to him was his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron looked quite dapper; he was also wearing elegant dress robes. His bright red hair was also sleeked back, and he stood up tall and proud.  Harry could not believe that in this moment, his best friend Ron Weasley, was about to marry his other best friend, Hermione Granger.

But here he was standing as he best man, next to the groom to be. Ron’s brothers, George, Bill, Percy and Charlie also stood near as the groomsmen. Harry saw many familiar faces in the audience, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were right there in the front row, and Harry saw that Mrs. Weasley already had tears in her eyes. Hermione’s mother was also seated in the front row, there was empty seat next to her, which was most likely reserved for Hermione’s father after he released his daughter to Ron.

Harry saw many classmates a couple of rows further down. Seamus, Dean, Neville and his date Hannah Abbott and many others. To his and Ron’s right, stood a line-up of Hermione’s bridesmaids who were all wearing light pink robes that somehow suited all of them perfectly. There they stood, Fleur, Angelina, Audrey, Luna and Ginny with an empty spot to the side, in anticipation for the bride. Harry had just made his way down the aisle, alongside Ginny, who was the maid of honour, who looked absolutely radiant in her pink robes.

Victoire, who was now three years old, walked forward, dropping rose petals from her basket in a very disorganized  but endearing matter, until she made her way to the aisle, Bill took her by the hand and carried her, placing a kiss on the cheek and whispering ‘good job,’ to which Fleur looked delighted at. The music picked up and the doors opened, Harry saw Ron’s chest expand as he took a deep breath in anticipation. And there she was, Hermione, in a beautiful white gown, her smile wide as ever, she walked down the aisle locked arm and arm with her father. Ron’s eyes widened at the sight of her, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, his eyes looked a lot more wet.  Hermione looked beautiful, she had put her hair in an elegant bun, and she was walking with a lightness to her. Fleurs glow, just like it did at her wedding, seemed to make everyone around her even more beautiful. This glow was not lost on Hermione, who was now shining. Ron did not bother to hide his tears by the time she had reached the aisle. Harry looked at his two best friends and knew that in this moment, they were not paying attention to anyone else and were in their own world. Hermione wiped the tear off of Ron’s cheek, and placed her hands in his. Ron squeezed Hermione’s hands and looked at her with a pure look of adoration. The look Hermione gave back was a look of pure love. Harry, as strong as he was, felt himself begin to choke up at the love he was witnessing in front of his very eyes.

The wedding minister began,

‘Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger matrimony commended to be honorable among all; and therefore, is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace.’

The crowd was silent.

‘The groom may now state his vow’

Ron, staring deeply into Hermione’s eyes

‘Hermione, I remember how the first time I met you, I called you a nightmare,’ Ron began, making the audience laughed.

‘Ironically, you ended up becoming the opposite of a nightmare. Instead you became my happiest dream. Although scary at times,’ the audience laughed again, ‘you are strong, beautiful, kind, brilliant, and every day I feel so lucky to have you in my life. We have been friends since we were eleven years old- and although surprising as it may seem, I still cannot get enough of you. So now, in the presence our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honour and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live. I, Ron Weasley, take you, Hermione Granger, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.’

Harry saw that tears had filled up in Hermione’s eyes, to which Ron delicately brushed off, with tears in his own eyes.  

‘The bride may now say her vow’ The minister said. And Harry saw that half the audience, as well as Hermione were now in tears. Harry admitted that even his eyes were slightly starting to water.

‘R-Ron’ Hermione hiccoughed, and Ron squeezed her hands in reassurance.

‘The moment I met you, I thought, who is this idiot’ the audience laughed,

‘You did not turn out to be one in the slightest. Your intelligence, your loyalty, your kindness and your bravery were something I was able to see from when you were eleven. You may have called me a nightmare-‘ the audience laughed, ‘but the moment this nightmare was in trouble you ran to save me, from then on we became friends, and not even a year later I saw yourself sacrificing yourself to help others before you, which is something you never stopped doing . And as annoying as you may be, my love only for you only grows with time. So now, in the presence our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honour and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live. I , Hermione Granger ,take you, Ron Weasley , to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.’

‘The couples may now exchange their rings,’ The wedding minister declared, and Harry helped Teddy, who was now five years old, present the rings to Ron and Hermione, who each put it on each other.

‘By the power vested in me by the Ministry, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.’

Ron and Hermione embraced closely, and their lips pressed against each other in pure passion. The passion of their kiss reminded him of their first kiss, which Harry had witnessed, which had been filled with passion and urgency. After a moment of their passionate embrace, the pulled apart, only looking at each-other, as if no one else was there. Upon them pulling apart the minister said,

‘I present to you Mr. Granger- Weasley. and Mrs. Granger-Weasley’, it was as if the minister’s voice had reminded Ron and Hermione that they were not alone. They looked at the audience beaming, the audience was now clapping, and a couple of people were cheering, ‘Congratulations! Go on you two!’ Harry said, patting Ron on the back and looking at Hermione. Ron took Hermione’s hand and Hermione took a flower bouquet from Ginny and both of them walked ran down the aisle, looking drunk in happiness hand and hand.

Harry took Ginny’s hand and followed behind, to which the rest followed. Seeing Ron and Hermione go into a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud, which had been enchanted to fly itself to where the hall the wedding party would take place. The rest of them would be apparating, and the few muggles who had attended would be driving. The muggles, minus Hermione’s parents, who were extended families of Hermione, would be having their memories wiped so as to think they just drank too much during the wedding, in order for them to forget about the magic that would be present.

Harry saw Ron and Hermione kiss yet again through the window of the car. The audience behind them cheering and clapping, Hermione threw her bouquet of flowers out the window and all the women ran to catch it. Luna ended up catching the bouquet

‘Oh what lovely flowers, white rose’s are good for fighting off rumpskins!’ She said, looking at the flowers dazedly. Ginny smiled at Luna and then turned to Harry,

‘off we are then?’ Ginny asked Harry, taking his hand. Harry shook his head, grabbed his own wife’s hand and the two of them disapparated with a pop.

The venue hall was beautiful. It was a hall made for witches and wizards, there were floating lanterns outside of the hall, and a fountain that shot out sparkling water. Harry and Ginny made their way inside. Twinkling lights surrounded the walls, and the tables were covered in a shearing silky white, along with golden napkins. Each table had a bouquet of Rose’s that seemed to have a crystal glitter to them. There was a stage with a grand long table, and eight seats, meant for Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Ron and Hermione’s parents. The table was decorated in the same manner that the other dining tables were, the only difference was that these chairs were cushioned and antique. It would be Harry and Ginny’s responsibility to introduce the bride and groom after all the guests took their seats. And they did exactly that, upon their introduction Ron and Hermione entered hand in hand and the audience clapped. The two of them went to the table that had a big grand cake on it, there was moving figurine of Ron and Hermione kissing, and upon cutting the cake it burst in confetti, causing another round of applause. Ron and Hermione fed each-other a piece and Hermione purposely put some on Ron’s nose. Ron kissed her in return, causing the cake on his nose to go on hers, and the audience laughed.

All of them took their seat, and before they could partake in the food, Harry and Ginny were set to make their own speeches.

Ginny went first,

‘Aright everyone’ she said standing up, and the crowd was looking at her silently. ‘So, as the maid of honour, I have to say a couple of words about these two,’ she said, tilting her head towards Ron and Hermione.

‘Now I’m going to start with my brother,’ she said, holding her drink towards Ron, ‘and I just want to start by saying that out of all my brothers, you Ron, are by far the most annoying,’

The crowd laughed and Hermione laughed, Ron rolled his eyes grinning.

‘You were also one of the closest. You and I being so close in age forced us to do everything together. I mean we became so close that I married your best friend,’ Ginny said, causing another outburst of laughter.

‘The first year I went to Hogwarts, I followed your footsteps and managed to get myself almost killed, but you came to save me. You always looked out for me, and you always tried to protect me. And that’s just what you do, you are so caring and giving and loyal, annoying as you may be, your heart is pure.  I am so happy you found someone like Hermione, who will appreciate the heart of gold that you have.’

Mrs. Weasley was now crying.

‘Hermione, I met you my second year, because of my brother.  The moment you opened your mouth, dozens of facts spewed out in a second. Then Ron invited you over for the summer, and we officially bonded. I remember being so excited because it was the first time in my life where I felt like I had a sister.’

Hermione smiled at Ginny, tears in her eyes.

‘I remember how you would always complain to me about Ron, and the moment I would ask you if you felt something for him, you would blush and deny it, I don’t blame you as that is quite embarrassing,’

‘Hey!’ Ron said and the audience laughed

‘I would tease Ron about you and he’d just try to jinx me, but it was quite obvious, I remember me and Fred..’ Ginny took a deep breath,

‘we made a bet on you two, predicting who would make the first move, Fred bet it would be you Hermione, and I know he’s here right now, laughing and smiling and asking me for his 5 sickles.’ Ginny’s eyes filled with tears, ‘You two were made for each other, and you balance each-other so well, I am so happy I can officially call you my sister in law Hermione, you and Ron deserve each-other’ the crowd applauded and Harry stood up.

‘Right, well, I don’t know if I can compete with that,’ Harry started and the crowd laughed.

‘Ron, you’re my best mate, from the moment we met each-other we were inseparable, I lived a life not knowing what it was like to be loved and cared for. And then you came in, and you brought me into your family, you risked your life for me, and you were always by my side, I don’t know what on earth I did to deserve a friend like you, because you mate, are one in a million.’ Harry started,

‘Now that isn’t to say you were never a git. But despite all that, you are one of the bravest, kindest, funniest, most down-to-earth people I have met in my entire life. I love you I really do. I don’t know where I’d be without you Ron, I’m so used to being around you I can’t even picture a world in which you weren’t in my life. From the moment I was eleven, I no longer felt like I was an only child, because you felt like more than a friend, you became my brother. I would have not survived without you, you were there for me both mentally and physically and I am so happy I’m here today to witness you sharing one of the most special moments of your life,’

Ron was smiling at him and Harry smiled back, ‘right now you Hermione,’

‘Well for starters thank you for helping with all my homework,’ and Hermione rolled her eyes,

‘Just like Ron, you’ve also always been there for me. You’ve been such a close friend, and basically a sister these past years. You have such a passionate kind soul, and of course, you are brilliant. I remember being put in the middle of your rows all the time, and all I could think was, could these two just get together already, and it took a war, but you did,’ the audience laughed

‘Seriously Hermione, I wouldn’t be standing here today without you and Ron and I owe the both of you my lives. Looking back, I’m not quite sure just anyone would listen to a bloke claiming that his head scar is hurting. So, I really lucked out with you two. You’ve both sacrificed so much for all of us to be sitting here today in peace, and you deserve every ounce of happiness, also Hermione, you have my vote for Minister of Magic,’ and the audience cheered,

‘Seriously, I can’t think of a couple more suited for each-other, your loyalty and your kindness go unmatched, your bravery, which is no surprise as we have two infamous Gryffindor’s, is supreme, and your passion could ignite a fire. I love the both of you, and I have accepted a life where I will consistently have to third wheel, because I do believe you two were made for each-other honestly.’ Harry continued,

‘A toast- to Ron and Hermione’ Harry said lifting up his champagne glass, and the guests lifted up their drinks, as well as Ron and Hermione,

‘Alright, time for food!’ Ginny yelled,

With that, plates of food came zooming from the air alongside drinks, first appetizers, then the main course and of course dessert. Some platters of appetizers, drinks still remained if anyone was still feeling peckish. Harry saw that some of the guests were taking advantage of the unlimited refills of the drinks.

Ginny got up to continue her role as maid of honour, ‘alright everyone, so we have a couple of bride and groom activities’ she said into her wand, which she had charmed to enhance her voice.

‘Mum if you don’t mind’ she said, and Mrs. Weasley waved her wand so that two chairs levitated to the centre of the floor.

‘Ron, Hermione, please take your seats,’ Ginny continued and the two of them got up, Ron helping Hermione lift the bottom of her gown,

‘Now take out your wands’ and the both of them exchanged their wands, ‘now, I’m going to ask you two who’s more likely questions, if it applies to Ron, make orange light shoot out, if it’s Hermione, make it purple, are we good?’ And the two of them nodded,

‘Alright, who wears the trousers?’ Two bursts of purple light erupted from their wands,

‘No surprise there, who’s more affectionate?’ Hermione’s wand let out of spurt of orange light, and Ron’s let out a burst of purple light.

Hermione laughed and nodded her head no, and Ron yelled ‘she likes to cuddle don’t let her fool you!’ Hermione hit his arm, and Ginny continued,

‘Who’s funnier?’ Both of their wands let out a burst of orange light,

‘Who’s crazier?’ Ron let out a huge stream of purple light and the crowd laughed, Hermione sighed and laughed. ‘Not true!’ She said as she laughed,

‘Who was the first to declare their love?’ Both of their wands shot our orange light,

‘Finally taking initiative eh Ron?’ Ginny joked, ‘Alright, who’s more dramatic?’

Ron’s wand shot out purple and Hermione’s shot out orange.

Harry laughed. Both Ron and Hermione could be equally as dramatic.

‘Who will kill the spiders in the house?’ Both Ron and Hermione’s wands shot out purple,

‘Who is the better kisser?’ Ron’s wand shot out orange and Hermione’s shot out purple,

‘Who looks better today?’ Ron’s wand shot out a huge light of purple and Hermione’s shot out orange, ‘She’s lying, impossible for anyone to look better than her today,’ Ron said to which the audience went ‘aww.’

‘Who wins the most arguments?’ Ron and Hermione’s wands both shot out purple,

‘Even when she’s wrong,’ Ron joked,

‘Alright’ Ginny said, ‘To finish it off, who do you love more than anyone in the world?’ And Ron’s wand shot out purple and Hermione’s shot out orange. The crowd clapped and Hermione and Ron embraced each-other in a kiss again.

‘Alright well we can let the festivities begin! Ron and Hermione will take part in their first dance and after them you lot can take a dance partner and keep your eyes out for more games- there’ll be prizes.’

Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and the chairs left the dance floor. Slow music started playing and Ron held out his right hand, Hermione took it and the two embraced each-other. There they swayed on the dancefloor, Hermione’s head now rested on Ron’s chest, and Ron was tightly embracing her. The only time they pulled apart was when they delicately kissed each-other. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Grangers eyes were now filled with tears. It was quite beautiful, Harry admitted, seeing the two of them swaying against each-other, lost in their own world. After their first dance, Hermione danced with her father, and more people made their way on the dancefloor. Harry and Ginny danced together, and then Harry danced with Hermione and Ginny danced with Ron. After a moment Ron and Hermione retreated into their own little world.

Harry smiled as he saw Ron and Hermione remain in a tight embrace, if anyone deserved happiness, it was them. It was crazy to think that just a couple years ago, Harry had been convinced that he would have to die. And now, here he stood, alive and healthy, witnessing his best-friend’s wedding.

(P.S I like carrot cake- haha kidding, this was the best I could do) 

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Ok, I’m back! #10 for Fremione. :D

i’m making no excuses for this 1.2k word monstrosity, other than that i owe you some major fluff after i turned your last request into an angst-fest. so, without further ado… my spin on the prompt phrase, “your jokes suck.”

-

The Gryffindor common room, at long last, had begun to empty. 

The Yule Ball had certainly stirred up enough activity to keep even the most antisocial of the house out until rather late. But it seemed that nearly everyone had shed their dancing shoes and gone to bed. The only ones left behind were the ones with business to discuss, the mischief-makers, the couples reluctant to part, and the recently heartbroken witches. Or rather, one recently-heartbroken witch.

Hermione Granger had not just shed her dancing shoes after storming out of the ball. She’d gone back to her room and packed it all up. Done away with her dress, and her hair pins, and her pretty earrings—sent especially by her mum, with a note of encouragement for her first ever ball—and the makeup that had transformed her into the sort of witch who danced confidently with a professional Quidditch player and then broke down over a bloke in ugly dress robes. Now, she was just herself again: small and pale, with her hair in a messy braid, wearing her favorite soft, sky-blue pyjamas that reminded her of vacations to Paris with her parents. 

She sighed. A log in the hearth shifted and crackled. Crookshanks purred gently.

Suddenly, the soothing sight of flames was blocked by a pair of very long legs. “Evening, miss. You wouldn’t happen to know where Hermione Granger is, would you?” Fighting not to roll her eyes, she looked up to see Fred Weasley, still in dress robes. “She’s about yea high,” he elaborated, gesturing to the vague vicinity of his chest, “and wearing a purple gown? You might’ve seen her at the ball, dancing with Viktor Krum and making all the other witches wildly jealous?“ 

"Your jokes suck,” Hermione said calmly. “Has anyone ever told you? They’re awful.” She was pouting and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. The night had been a complete and utter… but she didn’t want to think about it. Instead, she pulled Crookshanks closer to her chest. 

Her pathetic expression did little to move the lanky ginger in front of her. In fact, it seemed to prompt a smile that tugged mischievously at the right corner of his mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s not very nice, Granger.”

“Yes, well,” she sniffed, “I’m not feeling very nice just now.” She tried to angle her body away from him, but he made it rather difficult, what with taking up what felt like all the space in the entire room. Another time, she might wonder just how he did it; but it was not another time. It was now, and at this particular point in time, she could only wonder what in Merlin’s name was wrong with her, that she was so miserable over Ronald Bilius Weasley.

“Why ever not? The evening was a triumph!” Fred all but collapsed onto the sofa, sitting just close enough for her to smell gunpowder and sugar, a scent that clung to both the twins and nearly always meant trouble. She wondered if he was hiding anything in the pockets of his dress robes; he didn’t seem like the sort to enter any situation unprepared. “Then again,” he mused, “you were dancing with the wrong Quidditch star. Seekers are rubbish dancers, you know.” His voice was conspiratorial. He’d leaned close, breath tickling her ear for just a moment before withdrawing.

She managed a wry grin. “And I suppose Beaters are better?”

“Infinitely,” was the cheerful reply, followed by a wink.

“Rubbish!” Hermione felt a giggle building up in her chest and did her level best to suppress it. “I’m sure you dance like a particularly mad chicken with its head cut off, Fred Weasley, same as every other boy at this ridiculous school.” She did her best to look down her nose at him, but even sitting down, he towered over her. Still, she gave it her best, snarking, “All arms and legs, you lot.”

“‘Arms and legs,’ she says!” he cried, practically leaping off the sofa. “You abuse me, Granger. I won’t stand for it.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged, not pulling her up, but certainly making a convincing show of it. Crookshanks scrambled off of her lap as if suspecting what madness may follow. “Up, up—up you get!" 

The laugh that had been threatening made its way out as he tugged her up and into a loose facsimile of the hold McGonagall had demonstrated and they’d all practiced. One hand rested on her hip, warming the satin of her pyjamas, and the other clasped hers. She had no idea how he managed it so easily, seeing how he was miles taller than her and, as she had so accurately mentioned before, very much lacking in grace. But then, to a tune that only he could hear, he began to twirl her around the common room.

Because he was Fred, and therefore incorrigible and ridiculous in equal parts, he quickly went off script. Hermione learned that he preferred to ditch the standard choreography in favor of unexpected twists and turns, even going so far as to extend one arm and fling her outwards before reeling her back in. One of her slippers flew off, promptly careening into one of the lamps, which wobbled but—mercifully—did not fall, sending the sound of her mirth soaring up to the ceiling. Her hair came almost entirely loose from her braid as he spun her in chaotic circles. And once, when he meant to dip her, he very nearly dropped her into the fireplace. But they danced to the sound of her laughter, and the crackle of the logs in the fire, and his occasional tuneless humming, and the complete disaster that has been the end of the ball began to fade from Hermione’s mind.

He ended on a—totally unexpected—flourish, and bowed as he released her. She was panting and overheated and still giggling in bouts as she went to retrieve her lost slipper. "Well, Mr. Weasley,” she announced, “what you lack in elegance, you most certainly make up for in energy!”

“A ringing endorsement,” he answered, rolling his eyes. He himself sounded a bit winded, and he seemed relieved to sink down onto the sofa once again. “Honestly, woman, your standards are impossible. No man can meet them.”

“And yet, you endeavored to try,” she shot back, “which makes you worth about ten of anyone else I danced with tonight.” She spun in another lighthearted circle just for herself, then darted up behind the back of the couch. “Goodnight, Fred,” she whispered, leaning down. “Thanks for the dance.” And then, before she could lose her nerve, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

She didn’t wait long enough to see it turn pink. Or to see the grin spread across his lips. She was already retreating as he replied, “I expect you to save me another one, whenever the occasion should next present itself.”

From halfway up the stairs, she called down a laughing, “You can count on it!”

To his very great surprise, he did count on it.

And the occasion did present itself, though nearly ten years later.

The spinning and twirling wasn’t quite so easy this time. (He’d actually pushed rather hard for getting married in their pyjamas. She had lovely white, silky ones reminded him of their vacations to Santorini. But no, she’d insisted on clothes.) “Impossible to please, you are,” he said, shaking his head and smirking down at the little witch wearing wedding robes.

“And yet,” Hermione laughed, “you endeavor to try.”

[gideonthesoldier]

➤ ➤ Gideon Prewett ➤ ➤

GENERAL INFORMATION ➤

Full Legal Name: Gideon Felix Prewett Nickname(s): Gid, generally. Git, from close friends. Occasionally he just goes by ‘Fabian, oh - shit, sorry, wrong one.’ Age: 23 Gender & Pronouns: Cisgender male Sexuality:  Certifiably, as gay as the day is long.  Date of Birth: May 29, 1955 Horoscope: Gemini Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw Nationality: British English Occupation (and, if you’re one of the people playing a character close to graduation, future occupation):  Shopboy at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley and wanted vigilante Summarized in One Word: Red

APPEARANCE ➤

Faceclaim: Eddie “ugliest boy in school” Redmayne Height:  6 feet 0 inches Hair Color: Red Eye Color: Green-grey-hazel-messiness Noticeable Features: Freckles everywhere, a voice loud enough to give you a headache, he’s probably gesturing a lot with his hands, why is his hair so red? Oh no, there’s TWO of him,  Typical Outfit or General Fashion Sense: Bad. He thinks nothing about mucking about in trainers all the time and as long as clothes are clean and still fit him, he’s happy to wear them. There’s often a slight wrinkle to him and he sometimes looks more...comfortable than appropriate. When he does dress up, he does it well! But for a normal day, he’s happy in his tee-shirts and denims. There is one spectacular blue coat in his collection now, but he’s almost too worried about wearing it anywhere.

HISTORY ➤

Hometown (and, if they’re a graduate or soon to be a graduate, where they live now or will be living soon):  Gideon shares a flat with Fabian in London, but he is almost never there. If he’s not at Order headquarters, he’s at the Burrow. If he’s not either place, he’s at work. Home is a landing pad at best, not because he dislikes it but because he prefers to keep moving and is unable to be alone. 

Financial Status: Like the rest of their family, the Prewetts are comfortably nettled in the lower class but they’ve gotten very, very good at making do. It’s made worse by the fact that Fabian had to give up cursebreaking and Gideon is stuck at his dead-end, minimum wage job. Still, they split the cost on their apartment and save where they can, using magic to keep clothes mended and things clean. As long as they have enough to eat and a roof over their head and some pocket change for drinks on the weekend, they’re more than happy.

Spoken Languages: English and Molly’s Annoyed Voice (counts as a language, trust him)

Dream Job: He’d love to write children’s books and also be the father to 178 rescue pets

Bad Habits: He has a lot of them. He’s a lip biter, a nail picker, and always leaves his clothes on the floor. He doesn’t smoke - a fact that he’s strangely insecure about - but he’s been known to overindulge on drinks. He interrupts people when he’s excited. He sleeps far, far too late when he can (or, at least, he used to before the nightmares began). 

Above all, though, Gideon is unable to be alone. If a time comes when Gideon has the rare chance to spend a day in his own apartment and Fabian or another friend isn’t there, the place becomes completely uninhabitable to Gideon. He loves being at Order headquarters, or the Burrow, or even work whether he’s scheduled or not, because he needs to be around other people to feel like he’s truly himself.

FAMILY BACKGROUND ➤

Mother: Rose Prewett  Father: Tyson Prewett  Sibling(s): Molly (sister); Arthur (brother in law) Pet(s): None yet, sadly Grandparent(s): Hugo, Gideon’s maternal grandfather, is his only surviving grandparent. Cousin(s): Gideon’s uncle, Ignatius, and his wife, Lucretia, don’t have any children of their own. However, Aunt Lucretia does have one brother - Orion - who has two strapping sons, Sirius and Regulus. Arthur’s brother, Bilius, is much cooler. 

MAGICAL ABILITIES ➤

Wand:  Cypress wood, phoenix tail feather, thirteen inches, unyielding, unusually knobby 

Patronus (and which memory they’re currently using to cast a patronus if they can, or which one they’d use if they could): It’s a fox, and he thinks about last year on Charlie’s birthday when he and Fabian ran around with all the nephews in the backyard and got them to laugh until nobody could breathe, and it was a lovely sunny day, and nobody was afraid and everyone was together! 

Boggart: It’s a reflection of Gideon himself, standing alone. It may not seem like much, but even in Gideon’s head he can’t picture himself without Fabian by his side. If not Fabian, then someone - Molly, or one of his nephews, or a friend, or a fellow Order member. He’s afraid to be alone. To see himself on his own is truly terrifying, albeit embarrassing. 

OWLS: Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Astronomy

NEWTS:  Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions

What Kind of Magic do They Excel at: His best branch of magic is Transfiguration. In school, it was due to the perfect combination of it being mentally stimulating, practical, adaptable to pranks, engaging and having lessons where he actually got to interact with his wand, his classmates and objects around him. It caught and held his attention enough to seem worth learning, and was taught in such a way that it seemed worth learning. 

Now, in the Order and in his free time, Gideon uses Transfiguration whenever possible. Forgot to wash the dishes? It only takes a few seconds to transfigure his favorite mug into a dinner plate. Unnaturally bored while stationed somewhere, keeping guard? He’s been known to conjure a Rubix cube or other small puzzle box to entertain his hands. Rough day at work, and not feeling like cleaning out the cages? Vanishment is a difficult branch of magic, but Gideon always had a talent for it.

He uses a lot of Transfiguration in dueling, too. When he feels he can’t control his opponent or the situation he’s in, Gideon finds comfort in controlling the surroundings, and will often bring sudden, distracting life to whatever dark alley he’s in to throw the other party off their game.

PSYCHOLOGY ➤

MB Type:  Campaigner ( ENFP-T) (Read more!)

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive.”

The Campaigner personality is a true free spirit. They are often the life of the party, but unlike types in the Explorer Role group, Campaigners are less interested in the sheer excitement and pleasure of the moment than they are in enjoying the social and emotional connections they make with others. Charming, independent, energetic and compassionate, they can certainly be felt in any crowd.

Enneagram: (Read more!)

Type 7 - 83% MATCH Type 7 is described as The Enthusiast. Sevens want to have as much fun and adventure as possible and are easily bored.

Type 2 - 79% MATCH Type 2 can be described as The Giver. Twos want to be liked and find ways that they can be helpful to others so that they can belong.

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good

Archetype:

53% Caregiver - Friendly, sincere, and compassionate, the Caregiver finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better best friend.

24% Advocate - The Advocate is the one everyone wants on their side. In the name of justice, they are not afraid to challenge authority or speak up for others.

23% Rebel - The Rebel is comfortable throwing caution to the wind—and bucking the system—if that means getting their point across.

Temperament: Sanguine

Sanguine people are boisterous, bubbly, chatty, openly emotional, social extroverts. (Read more!) 

[sweetlialia]

Someone new (part 8)

please find the previous parts here : 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 -

TW : LEPRECHAUNS !

***

As he woke up on Monday morning, Harry couldn’t help but feel guilty again. He couldn’t be angry at Malfoy for not answering his letter and it wasn’t fair to bite every time his friends cared for him. Letting the cold water cleaned his thoughts and carried them down the drain, the Saviour decided it was time he stopped worrying about the unknown coming future. Whatever happens would happen; there was no good in trying to plan everything up. Nothing was at stake anymore. There was no upcoming deadline. If Malfoy needed time, if he was one for midnight one-sense confession, he’d do with it. He had life in front of him, they all had now. What was wrong in wasting a little bit of it?

He didn’t need Malfoy agreement, or even his listening; maybe no words were needed at all. His behaviour should be enough to make him understands he wasn’t disgusted nor did he want him to disappear from his sight. They didn’t even have to become friends. And as true as it was that he wanted to get to know him better, he could keep on awkwardly dancing around his house instead of talking to him. Maybe that would even help taming him.

 “You look better today, mate.

-Good morning to you too, Seamus.” Harry smiled back as his friends started flowing inside the Great Hall, taking seats around him. “Hermione’s not with you?

-She had to jump at the library before.” Ron answered, scanning the food.

“That girl’s completely nut.

-Completely. But you can’t say it. It’s boyfriend privilege.

-As if you never said it before! I perfectly remember you saying it in first year!

-He was already in love ~~

-Shut up Dean.

-Oi, you can’t tell him to shut up. It’s boyfriend privilege!

-Harry! Say something!

-I am really sorry of not being able to call on the boyfriend privilege.

-I’m really not helped here…” Ron groaned, rolling his eyes as he watched the three of them high five.

“He’s always on our side, Weasel!

-Don’t call me that!

-It’s Slytherin privilege?” Dean burst of laughing.

“I’m sure that now I could perfectly make you spit slugs.

-War hero Ronald Bilius Weasley! Watch out or you’ll spit slugs!

-Better than watch out or expelliarmus!

-What are you on about?” Hermione wondered as she sat beside them, a pile of book within her.  

“Nonsense. What is it all for?” Her boyfriend asked, nodding toward the books.

“Well, I took example on Neville and

-You what?

-You got pregnant?

-You’re dating Pansy?

-What?” Hermione shouted back to the echoing voices of her really dismaying friends. “By Merlin, no! I’m thinking of taking half of my NEWT before Christmas so I could take more on June.

-That makes more sense.” Seamus whispers on Harry’s left, making him smile. Hermione wishing to pass more exams strangely would always make more sense than anything else.

“But then, what?” As his friends suddenly turned to him, Harry realised he had talked out loud. “Um, sorry.” He blurted out. “Wasn’t meant to be said.

-What do you mean, then what?

-After Hogwarts. What will you do with all those NEWTs after Hogwarts?

-Oh, this. Well, I think the more I learn the more possibility I’ll have, so taking a few NEWTs more can’t hurt.

-No one knows what they’ll do next year, then?” Harry asked, half relieved, half anxious.

“I’ll work with George at the shop.

-All of your life?

-Maybe not, who cares?” he shrugged. “Got all my life to decide. I can work at WW for two or twelve years, then become an Auror or a pastry chef. As long as I like it, I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. And you should probably do the same.

-Work at WW?

-You got no sense of fun, you’d ruin the shop.

-And you have?

-Oh George knows how to make fun of him!” Hermione laughed, hitting him slightly on the arm. “The clients love him!

-And you?” Harry asked, turning to face Dean and Seamus as the two lovebirds in front of him have started bickering-kissing.

“I’d like to study art a little bit more. And I think Shay should work in a circus.

-As long as I can blow things up.

-Or he could rob banks.

-I could dress up as a leprechaun and do magic trick for the muggles.

-So you’ve got no clue.” Harry summed up quickly as Seamus started to mutter something, waving his wand at himself. “An art school, that sounds- OH MY GOD SEAMUS!

-It worked! Baby it worked!” Seamus cheerfully exploded, kissing his lover on full mouth. The entire hall had suddenly fell silence before it burst with laughers. At the professor tables, half the teachers had joined the students in their hilarity while the other was face palming: on the Gryffindor table was now win dancing a small old man, all dressed of green.

“I really hope you know the counterspell cause I won’t spend my life with… that.” Dean warned, clearly disgusted.

Rising from her seat, the Headmistress made her way to their table, obviously amused.

“If Mister Finnigan would make us the pleasure to turn back to his original form.

-Erm

-Oh my god oh my god he doesn’t know the counterspell. He doesn’t know the counterspell! I swear I’m gonna kill you!

-No one’s gonna kill anyone, Mister Thomas. I’ll take good care of it. Mister Finnigan, please follow me.

-Why am I in love him with again?” Dean asked horrified as the little old man happily followed McGonnagal down the hall, cheering back to the students.

  By the end of the day, Seamus had found his own body back, Dean was still ignoring him and Hermione weighting the pro and cons of taking new subjects in the middle of her seven years.

“The world’s gone mental.” Ron whispered to Harry as they walked toward the Quidditch pitch. “Absolutely mental.

-Our world has always been.”

***

Thank you for reading !

@agalaxyofthewolfstars @delicate-velvet @abstractundefined @books-for-sure @areasontobreathe @secretlycrazyhummingbird

You can blame @nothingsronwithme for the leprechaun’s stuff. It was supposed to turn siriusly after “i’m gonna dress as a leprechaun” but she encouraged me… ^^’

[romioneflufffest]

Between The Wines

Title: Between The Wines

Author: @lydias-martin

Prompt: Firewhiskey + Common room at midnight

Description: Au in which Ron and Hermione get to go to the Slug Club’s Christmas party together.

Rating: Teen (N/A: shout out to @diva-gonzo for taking care of the story and for her amazing beta work!)

Walking through the spacious hallway of the last atrium of the castle, Hermione hears her own heels hitting on the hard the floor as every steps echoes behind her and only partly reflects her distress.

Her dress is short, shorter than most she had been wearing lately anyway; the rayon blend of the sleeves covers just the upper part of her arms, and despite the neckline follows perfectly the curves of her collarbones, her back’s left bare and exposed to the winter piercing breeze.

Robot-like, she turns on the left, then another left, walking straight as she heads to the Quidditch field in her so not appropriate outfit for a match. She pretends to think that’s the reason why her heart is beating so out of her chest at every footstep she leaves behind. Except it’s maintained that pace for a hour or eight by now, since she woke up that morning, but that’s not the point.

Nor is the fact that Harry and Ginny had been both freed from their team’s Quidditch training and been able to meet their date in normal circumstances, to arrive at the ridiculous party on time and with someone who wasn’t even close to make them jump on their seat at the very first eye contact.

She doesn’t even bother that her date is apparently no influential enough person to Professor Slughorn, which means he wasn’t exonerated from his athletic duties but even less from the party dinner.. For that, he can be justified, at least. It was too bad that she had a bad habit of being punctual and not fashionably late.

But the point is that Ron Bilius Weasley, her date, was in fact not dating her, but her roommate Lavender, who’s now probably locked in their own bedroom leafing through some sort of jinxes magazine to conjure her in her sleep, or consult her divination bowl to try to check them out.

And Hermione really really wishes, with all her heart and soul, that this awareness didn’t make her lips tug up a little.

Her heels tap on the stone, her heart follows with a beat. Her heart skips a beat at the anticipation, her feet double the speed for the excitement. Her mind is screaming that it’s a bad idea. Her body wants to freeze, her heart pushes it forward. Her heels crush the ground harder, her heart pounds louder. And with that singsong in her head, Hermione finds herself in front of the changing room door that suddenly swings open and she’s assaulted by a red and golden crowd of sweaty boys, many back in their uniforms, some others still in the familiar team suit, none with ginger hair above.

She hears some greeting her, calling her name and she says hi on response without actually spotting their faces, too focused on finding Ron.

“Caref– oh, Hermione, hey!” She almost stumbles on a tall brunette girl, coming from side where the girl’s changing room is located. When she looks up she sees the radiant face of Katie Bell, smiling kindly down at her.

“Katie, hi!” She greets her.

“What are you doing here? You look gorgeous by the way.”

“Thank you,” she feels her ears flush slightly, not much at her compliment but for what’s coming next. “I’m… er, looking for Ron. Is he still inside?”

Katie’s attempt to repress a smirk is not even convincing. “I think he’s changing, he’s been in there for a while. You can stay here and wait for him if you like.”

“Thank you.” She smiles wholeheartedly, before waving her goodbye.

Hermione waits for a while outside, toying with her wand and playing hundred of different speeches in her mind to talk about once at the party, and somehow this manages to keep her brain busy for a good eleven minutes, before a loud thump coming from the change room draws her attention.

Worried, she stretches her hand towards the wooden door already when it suddenly flings open in front of her to reveal Ron, standing tall before her in his beige trousers… and bare torso. Her jaw clicks open so ridiculously fast she’s positive she might have broken it

“Her– hermione!”

“Ron!”

They call each other in unison, one stuttering and flushing as soon as he meets her eyes, the other with hoarse voice as if she hadn’t used it for ages.

“Uhm, hi!” They say at the same time again, before laughing shyly and Hermione feels the tension slowly fading away already.

“Hey.” He beams at her, now scanning her figure as If he had just seen her for the first time for months and Hermione can’t help but holding her breath at the way his eyes flicker on her curves, lingering on her exposed neck and with so much awe to have her melted in a minute.

They keep staring at each other’s bodies almost mesmerized, cradled in a heavy silent that however is nothing but awkward, as if they were born to look at each other.

The first and only time Hermione has seen him half naked was over a year ago, while he was playing Quidditch with Harry and Ginny in their field at the Burrow, shirtless and sweaty and looking absolutely fetching. That was probably the time she realized she wanted so much more with him; before that moment, the wildest dream she’d had of him was about them snogging, maybe in places where they shouldn’t be allowed to do stuff like that, like the library, in an empty class or in one of those secret passages for Hogsmeade. But after that? She did learn the meaning of ‘wild dreams’.

And now, standing right before him, so close that if she only stretched a hand forward she’d be able to feel his skin against hers, Hermione can’t help her appreciating look as her eyes linger the curve of his adonis belt, the smooth skin of his abdomen where light rectangular curves shape his abs, partly covered by tempting ginger hair on his lower abdomen, hiding down to the edge of his pants.

“You look… amazing.” His voice makes her lift her eyes again, swallowing hard as they meet his.

“Th– thanks.” She stutters; nodding to his naked torso she says, “well you look…” she really doesn’t know how to continue the sentence.

He smiles at her loss of words. “Yeah I forgot my bag on the benches, and my vest is in there so er… I was going to take it.”

“Oh, sure.” She makes him room and he quickly goes past her, leaving a contrail of his shampoo that smells like her amortentia and her brain goes blank for another moment.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Yeah hurry up, Ronald.” She scolds him, more to regain composure than for annoyance. When he comes back he has his vest on, allowing her to relax and quit thinking of his abdominal hair and it takes him only five more minutes to finish changing, and lock his equipment locker with a spell.

They barely talk throughout all the way up to the room where the dinner is supposed to take place. Strangely enough, Ron doesn’t complain about the disparity of treatment between him and his sister and Harry’s; whether because he doesn’t feel like speak ill of them knowing it’s not their fault, or because skipping a part of that party can’t be but a blessing, she can’t tell.

“Blimey, I’m starving.” He mutters as they approach to the entrance of the hall.

Hermione chuckles. “That’s a new one.”

He pinches her softly at the deadpan which causes her to let out a loud gasp, making him laugh at once. She would normally yell at him in other circumstances, with her wand dangerously inches away from his ribs holding a threat – of spells or tickle doesn’t matter, being both incredibly efficient on him – and she is about to do the same when the air suddenly stops in her lungs at the feeling of his hand on her bare back, so unexpected to make her gasp. He gently leads her indoors and starts tracing slow circles with his thumb against her skin to comfort her, maybe confusing her wide eyes for a symptom of social anxiety.

(Which she doesn’t have, by the way. Nope. Not this girl.)

By the time they cross the entryway, a slightly tipsy Ginny has her arms flung around her neck already, giggling a ‘hi’ and greeting her brother with a pat. Hermione reacts pulling her in a quick hug, giving Ron a weak smile as he makes his way to the table, mouthing her to wait for her up there.

She watches him taking seat next to Harry, where she presumes Ginny was before. She spots Harry approaching her, which makes her close her mouth immediately.

“Hey!” Harry appears from behind Ginny and greets her with a kiss on her cheek, nonchalantly resting his hand on Ginny’s shoulder as support. Hermione pretends not to catch the flushing spots forming on the redhead’s neck as she speaks to Harry.

“How’s the dinner going?”

“Er, the usual: ignoring Slughorn’s remarks on my scar, or the ‘you got your mother’s eyes’ speech; looking away from Mclaggen who has had the same homicidal look the entire dinner.”

Hermione turns around towards the point of the table Harry just nodded to, and she finds indeed a very infuriated Cormac staring at the trio with his eyes so narrowed Hermione wonders if he can even see a thing like that. Beside him, a pretty brunette girl has one arm mischievously stretched around his back, the other hiding under the table as she whispers something at the young man’s ear with a grin on her mouth.

Hermione reddens at once for some reason and turns away.

“Yeah, I think that’s my fault actually.” Harry winces.

“Only ‘cause you picked Ron over him as keeper of the team?” Hermione hisses in surprise.

“Well, Ron’s like my brother…”

“But that’s nothing to do with his skills! He’s better than Cormac, period.”

“Right?” Harry intercedes, watching Hermione with a scolding look that she gets immediately and that makes her find the floor suddenly more interesting.

Once the dinner is over and the charmed orchestra of instruments playing in a corner starts turning up the volume, a couple of students – two slytherins of the fifth year Hermione doesn’t recognize at all – opens the dances, forced by a very tipsy Slughorn pushing the young man in the middle of the ballroom and whom inevitably drags a girl behind him, their cheeks red just like the professor although for two distinct and opposite reasons.

But by the time the couple had made the first turn around the room, half of the guests had joined them, including Luna, who Hermione spots her kindly declining an offer of a pretty brunette boy to dance with him, swirling away from him to make her way across the crowd. Hermione can’t decide what’s the most comic in the situation, whether the boy’s expression – a mix of incredulity and defeat – or Luna’s solitary dance with pirouettes around the dance floor.

Gradually the chairs around them empty and the four of them are left alone in a comfortable silence with a half-empty bottle of Butterbeer resting in the middle of the table.

When Ron yawns for the second time in a raw, Harry follows suit and Hermione keeps toying with the hem of her dress as if in another dimension, she suddenly hears Ginny emit an exasperated sigh and without warning she’s leaning forward.

“Okay, we need to do something. I can’t stand your faces anymore.” She urges.

“Unfortunately, this is the one your mother gave me.” Ron replies sarcastically, and Hermione has to stop every atom of hers to answer back with her own opinion about his face.

“This is supposed to be a party and we’re wasting it!”

“Yeah, not to be an arse but I didn’t sign up for this. Even though, “ he adds then with a pout, “I don’t know if the alternative would’ve been better.”

She knows what the alternative was. And it included a dark blonde girl and a very wide sofa which would end up being used for a third only and in no comfortable positions. “Let’s play a game,” Hermione exclaims suddenly, trying to shoo the picture of Ron and Lavender’s bodies tangled together.

The attention is immediately drawn to her and, satisfied with that, she stretches forward to grab the butterbeer bottle, a mischievous look glittering in her eyes. After having checked that no one was watching them, Hermione takes her wand, points it at the bottle and mumbles a spell. The liquid slowly turns darker, the bright golden shade of before becomes amber, the smell coming out from it disperses around them and when she looks up to check her friends’ faces, she finds them all staring at the new drink with some sort of intrigued expression, hypnotized by his familiar orange sparkles and its piercing scent. Harry grins. “firewhiskey?”

Hermione nods, reflecting his own smirk.

“And the game is…?” Ginny asks tentatively.

“Truth or dare.” Hermione states, for some reason looking directly at Ron as she speaks. “And every dare is a shot.”

After that, it’s all a long and very quick slope towards an imaginary ban that she hopes she won’t be the first one to break through. A climax she’s not interested to find out. And yet, it’s Hermione the one to push the bottle that reads ‘Butterbeer’ but smells like grappa towards Ron when he chooses dare for first.

That’s the song that goes on all night long.

“Truth or dare?” “Truth.” “Would you use Grimmauld Place to throw a random party?” “Hell yes.”

“Truth or dare?” “Truth. “Have you ever hooked up with someone while your parents were at home?” “What? No, Ronald! Not even with my parents out, if we’re making a point…”

“Truth or dare?” “Truth.” “Does mum know you’re dating Dean?” “…no.”

“Truth or dare?” “Dare.”

Everyone blinks, but stay silent. With narrowed eyes, Hermione slowly passes the bottle to Ron.

The others, unlike her, don’t seem too bothered by his answer, and neither would Hermione, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been giving that same reply every damn time. For five times in a row. Five times avoiding her eyes for some reason, five times swallowing down a copious glass of firewhiskey and licking his lips right after in a way that, for five times, made Hermione rub her thighs together as the heat pools over her body.

His cheeks had turned already into a bright shade of red by the time Ron sips the last drop of alcohol from his shot glass, finishing all that was left in the bottle as well.

He’s not even that drunk, Hermione thinks, watching his eyes still wide awake and sparkling, although his movements had gone slower and for a while now he’d started laughing at Ginny’s jokes. ‘So unrealistic, honestly,’ Hermione thinks

When she spots him taking out the wand from his jacket, eyes fixed on a bottle of cherry syrup in front of them, Hermione gets his intentions at once.

“Oh no.” She urges, putting a hand on his still holding his wand to stop him. “I don’t think so. You’ve had enough by now.”

“Oh come on.” He complains, but he had let go already, the wand rested harmlessly on the table. Beside his hand. That Hermione’s still grabbing.

The thought of removing her hand had just crossed her mind when Ron’s suddenly turns around beneath hers, entwining their fingers in a way that Hermione can’t help to notice how right it feels, and gets up.

“So let’s dance.”

She’s forced to get up as well, pulled towards him by the hand. “What?!”

“Let’s dance.” He repeats, shrugging. As if it was such a totally normal occurrence for them, to have a moment. As if it made so much sense for a compromised boy to dance with his supposed best friend.

Right. Friend.

Against her willing, she lets go of his hand. “You can’t, Ron.”

“What? Why not?” He says, completely oblivious and tilting his head.

Is he being serious?! He’s acting like he completely forgot to have a girlfriend, who besides, happens to be Hermione’s good friend and roommate.

“Ron, I think Lavander–”

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence.

He tugs her to him, cutting her off as he makes his way through the crowd, and still with her hand in his, he drags her behind him and stops only when he reaches the centre of the dancefloor. Even among all those people around them dancing and swinging their hips at the notes of what Hermione identifies as a reggae song, she can still feel Harry’s eyes drilling holes in the back of her head while staring at her probably in shock, or Ginny’s playful smirk as she watch them facing each other with flushed faces.

In her attempt to tune them out, Hermione totally misses Ron’s hand sliding away from hers, only to come to place on her waist and, as he does so, she’s automatically pulled closer to his body and she can’t help the gasp at his sudden vicinity.

“So,” he begins, a little uncertain on his feet for the lack of balance, “what were you thinkin’?”

“I uhm…” She literally can’t remember because all she can think about right now is the feeling of Ron’s flat hand on her side, so large, so warm, and concrete against her covered skin to make her feel safe by the only act of touching her.

“I think you know what I was thinking.”

Yes. That’s the more eloquent, mature, cunning thing she’s able to come up with. God, why does her IQ has to plummet whenever he’s so close?

Ron grins. “I was thinking that you owed me a dance.”

“Excuse me? You were dancing with someone else for what I recall.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you happened to be taken already.”

“I never heard an invitation coming from your mouth, though.”

“I did ask you.” Ron mutters.

“Oh yes, you mean when you realized I’m a girl?” She replies in a high-pitched tone.

“When I realized you were beautiful.”

Her feet stop moving, and she sees Ron do the same, although he doesn’t seem to look really well, now slightly pale - if either for his confession or for the alcohol she’s not sure. The music slowly ebbs away in her head, replaced by those six words played on repeat as a new favorite song she’s already got addicted to. He doesn’t meet her eyes, deciding to stare at their joined hands raised at one side instead, with his cheeks flushed just as much as hers and glassy eyes.

“What?” She breathes out.

But the moment he opens his mouth to speak, Hermione sees Ron’s body stumbling away and at his place, a tall blondish boy, unfortunately familiar, appears before her with a sneer. She really doesn’t have the time nor the willing to process Cormac’s stupid entrance, because in a minute she’s stretched forward, arms flung around Ron’s waist to support him as she manages to save him from smashing his face on the ground.

“Are you insane? You could’ve hurt him!” She helps Ron straighten as he massages the part where Mclaggen hit him.

“My apologies.” Nothing in his tone sounds apologetic.

“What do you want?” Hermione asks him sharply.

“A dance?”

She lets out a scornful laugh. “Forget about it.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a dance!”

“Cormac, I said no!”

“I know you thought about inviting me, so where’s the problem now?”

“Well I obviously changed my mind. You’re not very intuitive, are you?”

“I am and I can catch a sign when I see one, Granger.”

“Let go.”

“God, you’re so pathetic.”

One moment Ron’s yelling at Cormac in front of her; a moment later Ron has fallen on the floor, pummeling Cormac in the ribs..

The people around them split apart with a gasp, making room to the two wizards fighting on the ground. Initially, Ron’s the one prevailing, as he traps Cormac between him and the cold pavement, but then someone or something among the crowd distracts the ginger which gives Cormac an opportunity to react and roll on one side, so that now he’s towering over Ron who now struggles to fight back for the lack of reflexes.

“Ron!” Hermione shouts, frozen on her place.

But Cormac’s arm had raised already, a threatening fist clenched above his head and read to hit his goal when–

“MCLAGGEN. WEASLEY.”

Despite the sea of people, Slughorn’s figure is not really one that blends in easily and he austere tone reflects just right his large measures when he yells the boys’ names.

They stop fighting and look up at the old man; Hermione’s gaze follows theirs as well just to find the professor’s face red for anger, eyes wide and darting flames at those who clearly ruined his famous party.

“Out.”

***

“Glacius.”

The towel in her hand turns to a solid block of ice at once, and Hermione quickly wraps it in a soft tea cloth before her hands have the time to freeze at the contact with it.

Ron’s face contorts in a snarl of pain that he tried to mask with a weak smile as she places the cloth at the side of his head, right where it smashed on the ground when McLaggen pushed him.

“Sorry.” Hermione winces, as if she could feel his pain on her own skin.

“‘S okay.” Ron trails off, leaning his head on the couch and closing his eyes in the process. The common room is deserted, fortunately. The curfew was about half hour ago, so there’s no way someone would break in the room at that hour, and the best part of the students had already left for Christmas holidays, so it was no surprise that even the few people who remained were in bed, considered the hour.

After the fight, Harry and Hermione had helped Ron to stand on his feet and carried him to the tower. They had waited for him to gain back his balance and full senses –despite not having passed out for good he was still half-drunk, half-hungover – and eventually they decided it was quite useless for both of them to stick with him, and since Hermione first period happened to be free the following day, they agreed on her to remain with Ron.

Logical reasons a part, Harry’s acting skills never have been the best so when he starts fake-yawning from nothing and in a quite compulsive way, so unrealistic, Hermione doesn’t miss his knowing look, how his eyes (not sleepy at all, despite what he wanted to make her believe) landed on their joined hands, beaming. She hadn’t realized she never let go of his hand.

“Still hurts?” She murmurs, carefully moving the frozen cloth on his head for a better angle.

“Not so much now.” But his eyes are still shut, as to focus on controlling the ache and not to flinch.

When he opens them, their eyes lock in an instant, and Hermione suddenly finds it difficult to keep her breathing regular when he glances at her like that. His head is tilted slightly forward, resting on the couch, so that she has to lean a little to reach for the wound. And their faces are so close… his eyes weary on hers as if he was taking her in, contemplating her.

“Did you uhm… enjoy the party?” She hears herself say, internally cursing for the dumb question because really Hermione? He just got into a fight!

“Before I was completely pissed on firewhiskey and got my arse kicked? Sure.”

She bursts into a laughter, seeing Ron smile as well at the sound of it. “You’re a great dancer, anyway.”

“Large families involve numerous weddings and dance classes with your big bros, you know.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Until you break a toe per year, it is.” She laughs again and rests her side on the couch, getting only a few inches closer.

“What about you? Did you like the party?” He then asks.

“Yeah. It was nice after all.” She pauses for a while. “You didn’t have to punch him, you know.”

Ron’s eyes go wide. “You’re saying he didn’t deserve it?”

“No, I mean …you didn’t have to. Just that.” And somehow she can’t hold his gaze anymore and looks down on her lap.

He’s silent, probably considering the right words to say. “He’s a git.”

“I know…you could’ve just ignored him.”

“He was harassing you! He called you a pathetic! How I was gonna ignore that?” His tone slightly raises.

When she lifts her eyes to look up at him, she finds him gazing at her with an indignant expression, as if he had received all those offends himself.

“I really appreciated that, Ron.” She smiles and he smiles back at her and her heart is beating so fast at this point she thinks she could wake up the whole tower.

“You–” he clears his throat, looks away from her and suddenly his eyes are sad. “You really thought about inviting him?”

“No! Well, yes. But just because… you know, I asked you before you started dating Lavander and–”

“And what?”

“I didn’t think you would’ve come with me.” She blurts out. God she’d kept that inside since forever.

Ron’s expression is indecipherable at start. But then he grins, taking her hand away from his head and putting it on his lap instead, lingering a little when her knuckles brush his cheek. The iced garment forgotten on the couch, her hand between his as he draws circles on it with his thumbs and despite it’s not even close to the things she dreamt about his hands, the contact makes shiver, warming her up at once.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Hermione.”

She chuckles. “Next time I’ll try harder.”

“Oh, next time uhm?” He smirks playfully. “Take it back.”

“No.” She tried to refrain a laugh.

“Take it back!” He insists with a smile.

“Nope.” Hermione states amused, marking the ‘p’ with her lips.

Then he moves forward so quickly she doesn’t expect him to, unprepared seeing his lack of reflexes due to the firewhiskey, when his hands reach for her ribs and find her ticklish point that of course he knows.

“Ron–” she’s cut off by her own laughters, tears forming at the corners of her eyes already, “Ron, stop!”

“Admit you don’t want to get rid of me.” He says between laughters, still teasing her on her sides.

“Okay okay!” She urges, breathless. “Okay, you win.”

He stops. “So it’s true?”

“You know it is.” She rolls her eyes in attempt to sound annoyed but her tone is too soft, her eyes to happy and cheek too flushed to get it bought.

Then something else clicks on her.

“No lies between them, right?”

His look gets suspicious.”Of course.”

She nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she tries to formulate the question she’s been dying to ask all night.

“Why you never picked the truth when we were playing?”

Ron blinks once, twice, then again one last time before pursuing his lips in a way she’d find incredibly cute if she wasn’t so curious and slightly anxious. Is he hiding something from them? From her? Is he afraid of something they might have asked him? Hermione hates not to know. And especially about him.

“I …don’t feel comfortable to talk about my personal stuff.” His change of tone makes her regret about her question, but he looks calm and doesn’t seem bothered, which soothe her a little

“You’re uncomfortable with us?”

“I’m uncomfortable with the game in general, Hermione.”

“What does this even mean?”

“I mean, if I have to tell you guys something personal I can just talk to you at any time and not necessarily with an audience or so!”

“Well, you haven’t talked much about your ‘personal stuff’ lately, not to me at least.” She really wishes that hadn’t come out so harsh, her voice is painful and she’s regretting to have started this conversation in first place but she has to know.

“Okay, what do you want to know?” Ron exiles, slightly exasperated.

“What?” She’s gaping now.

“Tell me what do you want to know from me.” He’s offering her answers, opening himself like a book for her despite she has no right to know anything of him. It’s like a mutual agreement they set about two years ago by now, when he got mental because of Viktor and she understood she just couldn’t talk to him about certain things. Then Ginny and her became closer and it wasn’t so much of a burden to not be able to talk about her most private life to Ron.

She never really found herself in need to know such things from him. Not ever, until now. She has to know. Because now he has a girlfriend, he’s maybe doing things she only got a hint of when she dated Viktor, he’s kissing her and spending time with her and she doesn’t know.

He has a girlfriend and yet, his fingers are tangled with hers as he keep staring right into her eyes in wait for a question.

“So you’re gonna answer?”

“Just ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“What? That’s unfair.”

“That’s the game.” He shrugs again and gives her a soft smile to encourage her to go on. Right, that’s the game that she started and almost put the boy she’s in love with in trouble for it, and now she’s getting in one as well if she plays her cards wrong.

But she has to know.

She swallows hard, forcing her eyes to hold his look. “Okay,” she whispers, before clearing her throat nervously. “Are you… are you in love?”

Ron’s eyes widen, his cheeks suddenly flushing. “What?! That’s the question?”

“I– yes, Ronald. That’s my question.” Man, could it be any hotter in that room.

“Why do you even want to know?”

“We never talk about relationships?” She suggests.

“Am I supposed to talk about my relationships with you?”

Hermione pretends not have heard the plural and rolls her eyes at his annoyance. “‘Cause I’m your friend, you idiot!”

And then something happens. His glance, so intense and fierce and playful of seconds ago, suddenly turns sadder. His reds cheeks get their usual pale color back, and his whole expression flat, as if it just turned into stone. It’s sad first, then defeated, and finally devoid of emotions, all in less than a minute.

“Right.” He breathes out, his voice low. And she is so confused now.

His eyes lock on hers with so much intensity she feels pulled forward by his just look on her. His breathing is regular and she finds herself sync her own with his.

With his hand still covering hers and fingers brushing softly her palm, he answers her question. “Yes. I’m in love.”

Hermione’s heart falls so heavily she thinks or might get to the bottom of the tower. She doesn’t understand while Ron’s smiling like that now because she feels so bad, she wants to throw up and he’s smiling at her?

She’s lost contact with the world, except for the feeling of Ron’s fingertips drawing abstract figures on her hand, the only comfort of the situation. She focuses on that, closing her eyes at the sensation and tries to tune the rest of her awful feelings out.

A silent gasp escapes from her lips. Her heart comes back to live again and her upcoming tears suddenly feel like ones of joy at the discovery. They’re not abstract figures. He’s drawing the same exact one over and over again. A letter.

“Are you?” She whispers looking back at him, the pounding in her chest making it hard to breath properly.

One single letter.

“I am.” He smiles tenderly.

H.

[hillnerd]

George attending the funeral

wrote this a long time ago- posting for Gred and Forge’s bday- rated G-

George let out a deep sigh.

This is definitely not how he would want to be remembered, for having the most boring funeral known to man.

"He was an outstanding member of this church for over fifteen years. We will all feel his loss long after he is gone."

"I don't think Uncle Bilius ever went to church," whispered Fred.

"This is the worst funeral I've ever been to," George muttered, hanging his head around his knees. Mum had Percy poke his back and they both gave him stern glares so he would sit up 'properly.'

Charlie was asleep with a piece of drool making its way down his chin. Bill was awake, his unfocused gaze settling somewhere around the pretty fiance of their cousin. Ron and Ginny covertly read a comic hidden between them. Fred had his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling with much concentration.

"When I die, I don't want a funeral," he said.

"Huh?"

"I don't want one. They're boring, filled with church stuff, and everyone has to dress like a bunch of stuffy berks."

"What would you want instead? A party?"

"Definitely," said Fred, a smile on his face. "Uncle Bilius was the best. If he wasn't in the casket he would have walked out by now to get a drink."

"He was a true Christian, filled with charity, love and sobriety," said the parson.

"Sobriety?" George asked with a bit of a laugh.

Those of the congregation who were actually paying attention to the never-ending sermon were starting to look around at each other.

"Are we at the right funeral?" he heard Dad whisper to Mum. She gave a shrug, then spied Charlie and the drool that was now settling on his left breast pocket.

"Bill, wake your brother up," Mum whispered. He promptly hit his brother in the side with an elbow.

"Amen!" said Charlie, startling from his chair.

Fred and George laughed.

[lightpinkskye]

cum te amo tota anima mea; or, i love you with all of my soul

summary:  soulmate au based on this prompt by silentpeaches on tumblr: “Where for whatever reason, your clock is stuck/frozen/it’s not counting down anymore but it hasn’t reached 00:00:00:00 yet and you’re freaking out because this hasn’t happened to anyone before.” drarry. draco’s pov.

length: 1,473 words

pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

rating: T (teen and up audiences)

also crossposted on my ao3, ff.net, and wattpad

Draco Malfoy is curious.

He has known practically from birth of the existence of soulmates, those who complete you, make your heart whole. His parents are each other’s, Auntie Bella and Uncle Rodolphus too.

Even Uncle Sev has one, even if he doesn’t like to talk about her.

Draco has a clock of his own, counting down to a date far, far away to his five-year-old mind, some sixteen years in the future.

He hopes his soulmate is Pansy. She’s full of adventures, always with scraped knees and messy hair, to the constant detriment of her mother. To a quiet boy like Draco, she seems alive in a way his house, full of empty rooms and cold splendor, rarely sees.

Draco wishes that whoever they are, his soulmate has that same sparkle of perpetual wonder in their eyes that Pansy does.

Draco Malfoy is angry.

How dare that nasty Potter brat show such a blatant disregard for what Draco knows to be the order of things? He just wanted to save him from himself - associating with Weasleys is social suicide, everyone knows that.

It doesn’t help that he knows that when he writes home for the first time later tonight, his father is going to pace his study for a long time, silently fuming at his son’s incompetence at what should have been so easy, Draco, Merlin, how could you possibly bungle up something that simple, pathetic, honestly, how did I ever get so unlucky to get saddled with you as a son, the Dark Lord-

Draco flops back onto his new bed in the dungeons, seething with resentment and not crying at all. His clock has a little over ten years left, and he still doesn’t know who his soulmate is, not that it matters-

Crabbe shifts heavily in his sleep, startling Draco from his thoughts. He rolls over and covers himself in the heavy green comforter, losing himself to sleep.

Draco Malfoy is not panicking. Not at all.

It’s just that how dare Potter keep looking at Cho Chang with that dopey expression, as if she (that boring sap of a Ravenclaw with dreadful hair, honestly) had managed to hang the moon without anyone else noticing.

And he wasn’t at all happy that Pansy tried to kiss him last week at Hogsmeade (not one bit, even if her dress robes did set off her eyes), even if Theo and Greg would eagerly murder him for the same opportunity. Not that there is anything wrong with Pansy, it’s only that whenever he ...thinks about ...kissing, there’s always green eyes and golden, muscled limbs, and-

Okay, so there may be the ever-so-slight possibility that Draco doesn’t like Pansy because he doesn’t like women like that. Which is entirely irrelevant and has no bearing on his future. Because he’s still going to marry a nice, rich, pureblooded girl from a nice, rich, pureblooded family, and have nice, rich, pureblooded sons to carry on the Malfoy line. No matter how good Potter looks in a Quidditch uniform.

Draco is fifteen, his clock is constantly ticking down to somewhen, a little less than six years away, and Merlin why doesn’t he know-

But Blaise is calling him, and he turns away after one last lingering look at Potter’s messy shock of hair.

Draco Malfoy is terrified.

Not only is the Dark Lord inside Hogwarts, but his classmates are dying at the hands of his father’s friends, his mother is nowhere to be found, and for some unholy reason, his timer has stopped counting.

It’s not that it’s at zero, oh no, it still has three and a half years left, no, it has just. Stopped. Right in the middle of a fucking battle. As if Draco doesn’t have enough on his mind already without his stupid soulmark deciding to go haywire.

He whirls around, parrying spells fired from both sides, not caring who sent them, just trying to find his mother, and in the back of his mind is the constant whisper of Potter where’s Potter that bloody son of a banshee did he go did he answer the Dark Lord’s summons where is he where-

Because he can’t stop thinking about the fucking Chosen One even in the middle of trying not to die. Of course.

And then he feels a burning in his wrist and there his timer goes, counting down like it should be, and oh thank Merlin, I’m not any more broken than I already am.

And Draco hears the Dark Lord’s voice echoing around Hogwarts, effectively halting the firing of curses in the wake of -

Potter.

Dead.

At the Dark Lord’s hand.

And there, the half-breed Hagrid, carrying something - no, it can’t be, that’s not -

But it is.

And Hagrid is sobbing while the Dark - no, Voldemort - laughs.

The chaos around him blurs as Draco’s vision tunnels, focusing on that fucking hair, messy even in -

Wait. Was that a -

Breath?

And his heart skips a beat or five as Potter rises from the ground and thank all the fucking gods he’s not dead, Potter isn’t dead, but how?

And as the battle resumes, Draco’s train of thought is lost again in the all-consuming panic of my parents where are they I must find them, is there anyone -

He doesn’t notice when Nagini dies at Longbottom’s hands, or even when the whole gaggle of ginger heads clustered together around their dead son. His parents are alive (and so is Potter), and so is he, and that is enough for now.

Draco Malfoy is, for once in his life, calm.

Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, as it has come to be known, and his life has finally returned to some semblance of normalcy. Or, you know, whatever normalcy can be when Ron Weasley is beating him at wizard’s chess in his own parlor.

He is still reeling that he’s somehow become - can they really be friends, after all this? perhaps so - something, anyway, with the very people he took such delight in tormenting half a life ago. Yet here he is, living in a comfortable flat in London near St. Mungo’s, not in Azkaban, with Harry Potter attempting to teach Hermione Granger his aunt’s recipe for treacle tart in his kitchen.

“Check!” Ron crows, and Draco’s attention returns to the chessboard, analyzing possible moves in his head. He hesitates only slightly before directing his remaining castle to a black square across from Ron’s king.

He is stopped from declaring checkmate by a sudden burning scent emerging from the kitchen, immediately followed by the distinctive sound of the Chosen One swearing while attempting to remove a treacle tart from an oven barehanded. Draco rises, stepping towards the commotion, as Ron rushes to ensure his fiancee is unharmed.

Harry waves with his left hand, perched on the countertop and seemingly calm once more, as Hermione attempts to bandage the other, scolding him all the while in a shrill tone remarkably similar to that of Ron’s mother. Draco can’t help but grin at the fate the poor dessert has befallen, poking at the blackened crust. “How on earth did the two of you manage to kill this innocent tart in the five minutes since it was in the oven?” he asks, shaking his head. “If there is a speck of damage to my kitchen, Potter, I swear on Merlin’s left nut -”

He is cut off by Ron simultaneously kicking his shin and rubbing flour in Harry’s untidy mess of hair. Draco sighs dramatically. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, I will not tolerate such abuse in my own domicile. Leave this place at once, and take that poor excuse for a pastry chef you call Hermione with you.”

In the midst of the bickering that ensues, he can’t help but smile. One hundred and sixty-two days, three hours, and seven minutes until he kisses his soulmate, yet Draco isn’t concerned about their identity any more. He’s made his peace with his timer and with the world, or at the very least the three people covered in flour and plasters crammed into his kitchen.

No, Draco Malfoy is happy, even if he still gets nightmares about Charity Burbage sometimes, and whoever his soulmate is, they will come when they come. In the meanwhile, he will learn to cook and play chess and finish his potions apprenticeship (and if he still checks out Harry’s arse during pick-up Quidditch games, well, a man can dream, can’t he?).

When Harry Potter finally kisses Draco Malfoy on a crisp September afternoon, one hundred and sixty-two days, three hours, and seven minutes later, Draco can’t kiss back because he is smiling wide enough for three people. His wrist is tingling, his nose is cold, Harry is laughing, and all is well.

[shannsleeve]

The Bookshop: 3/5

Here’s part 3!

I couldn’t resist the ‘Wonder Woman’ reference. ;)

Tagging: @teacup-occamy, @allscissorsallpaper, @njckle​, @carnivorouskiwi, @believe-in-the-jabberwocky, @book-lover-dragon 

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136360/chapters/25152060

The Weasley boys led the couple up a winding staircase to the second floor. It was surrounded by an iron grate barrier and boasted a few comfortable sofas and tables on the nearest platform. And, on the opposite side, was the plant nursery. Several pots overflowing with growling and purring plants framed a low swinging gate. In the far corner was a section of the platform obscured by a white gossamer curtain. The couple approached the curtain with caution, neither Bilius nor Caius were anywhere to be seen. They glanced at each other hesitantly, but Tina was far too tempted and yanked it open when Newt turned away to cover a sneeze.

“Bless you, darling,” she said as she stepped through. Her jaw dropped as she beheld the scene spread out before her.

“Merlin’s beard,” Newt breathed as he caught up to his wife. “This is…”

“Beautiful!”

The couple stood at the center of secret glen illuminated with bright, warm sunshine, surrounded by a small grove of enchanted Shrinking Sequoias. Each of the trees’ trunks were carved into towering shelves filled with stuffed magical beasts and a plethora of books.  Clumps of rosebushes bloomed throughout the glen, giving readers a comfortable, fragrant place to sit. This world was entirely separate from that outside the curtain. It pulsed with magic and joy and comfort and all things that fill the dreams of small children. As Newt and Tina knelt in the grass, Bilius and Caius emerged from behind the tree trunks, a stack of books in each of their arms. The boys settled near the couple in one of the larger rosebushes. Bilius dropped the books in his arms and gestured to Newt’s basket.

“What are you waiting for?!” he hissed, burying himself deeper into the rosebush. “Hurry, before all the good seats are taken!”

Tina shook her head politely. “I think we’ll stay right here.” She stretched out her legs, tucking her skirt modestly around them, and plucked Philippine Folk Tales from her husband’s basket. “Thank you, boys.”

Newt also grabbed a book from the basket – New Fairytales and Stories – and tapped his coat with his wand. The garment extricated itself from its master and arranged itself rather nicely on the ground next to Tina. With a satisfied huff, Newt lay down upon it next to his wife, book held high above his nose.

While the Weasleys and the Scamanders read quietly to themselves, a band of children no older than five discovered the glen. They bounded through the gossamer curtain like a herd of baby graphorns and made straight for the lowest bookshelves. Some yanked volume after volume out of the tree trunks only to throw them haphazardly to the floor. Others tumbled onto the remaining rosebush cushions, piles of enchanted picture books in their arms. The youngest members of the crew, a boy and girl with thumbs stuck firmly in their mouths, completely ignored the shelves, the cushions, and their friends. Instead they tottered over, quiet as could be, to the lounging wizard. Without question, they plopped down, one on either side of Newt’s head, peering curiously at him.

Startled, the wizard bolted upright, smacking his face with the center of the book. With a groan, he placed it in his lap and gently patted his swollen nose as he regarded the little ones. “Oh! Hello!”

They waved in unison while sucking harder on their thumbs. The girl pointed to the book in his lap and cocked her head to the side expectantly.

“Ah! Would you like a story?”

They nodded furiously, curls and thumbs bouncing up and down until they nearly toppled over. With the unerring skill of a chaser, Newt reached out with both hands to steady them. As they relaxed, a thought came to him.

“Tina, love?”

“Hmm?” The witch slowly raised her head from her own book, clearly struggling to bring herself back to the current plane of reality.

Newt scooted closer to her until their knees knocked together. Taking one end of her book in his right hand, he leaned over, using the book to hide their lips. He chuckled lightly at the conspiratorial picture they must’ve made. “I have an idea, dearest,” he whispered, his breath tickling his wife’s cheek.

She giggled and lightly brushed away the tingling from her cheek. “And what would that be?”

“Let’s practice our storytelling!” He looked meaningfully at the children then back to her. “Perhaps with a show for the little ones from the fairy tales?”

Tina was quite intrigued by and (slightly) proud of her husband’s suggestion. “All right, Newton, I’m game.” She smirked before nuzzling his cheek, raising the book a little higher as she did so. “Which story should we start with?”

The wizard lifted his copy of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales and smiled. “How about Hansel and Grettel?”

--

“‘And Hansel stretched up his hand and broke off a little bit of the roof to see what it was like,’” Newt read, his voice low as a whisper, eyes darting from the page to the space in front of the little ones where Hansel and Grettel and a candy house stood. The figures were made of shimmering, almost translucent magic that flowed effortlessly from Tina’s wand. It was an old Goldstein gift, she’d said, to make the words on the page dance like smoke before the eyes of all who cared to listen.

“’Thereupon a shrill voice called out from the room inside – ‘”

The children gave a collective gasp as the reedy voice of the witch echoed around them: “’Nibble, nibble, little mouse, who’s nibbling my house?’” Newt pulled his wand away from this throat to end the Sonorous charm and grinned widely at Tina who was nearly doubled over with boisterous laughter.

“SHHHH!” The little girl glared angrily at the witch, her finger pressed firmly to her small lips.

Tina bowed her head in apology and waved her wand in front of the smoke house. From its depths emerged an old, crotchety, grumpy hag who (upon closer inspection) looked slightly like the Magizoologist. Quick as a diricrawl, she Apparated behind Hansel and Grettel, tugging them none-too-gently from her roof. Again, Newt lent her his voice to the children’s great delight and (soon) terror.

“’Creep in, and see if the oven’s properly heated, so that we can shove in the bread…’”

By the end of the tale, the couple’s tiny audience had grown to encompass all the children in the glen. Tina enlarged her smoke figures and Newt utilized the Sonorous charm more often than he’d originally thought to accommodate all the newcomers. When they were finished and Hansel and Grettel had followed the bread crumbs home, a small smattering of applause was their reward.

“Another, please, Mr. Newton!” Caius Weasley cried. “That one was boring!”  

Grumbles of assent rose from the rest of the group as the Scamanders looked to one another with utter surprise and a touch of fear.

“Well then, my friends,” said Tina, placing her hands on her hips. “Throw out some ideas for us!”

“Babbity-Rabbity!”

“The Warlock’s Hairy Heart!”

“Cinderella!”

“The Little Mermaid!”

“JASON AND THE GOLDEN FLEECE!”

Utter silence descended upon the group as all eyes turned to a child fiercely clutching a copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology to her chest. She stood and carefully picked her way through the group until she was face-to-face with Tina. With great aplomb, she handed her the book and pointed to a hippogriff bookmark peeking out from the center.

“Thank you, honey,” said Tina with a radiant smile. She flipped the book open and smoothed a hand over the page before tucking the bookmark into her dress pocket. “Oh, what a great choice! This is one of my favorites! Give Newt and me a few minutes to look over it, then we’ll start.”

“What’s that, Diana?” Bilius Weasley asked, tugging on the girl’s sleeve as she returned to her seat beside him. “Is it a fairy tale? Papa’s never read that one to us before.”

“Myths are even better than fairy tales,” Diana proudly replied. “Mortals thwarting the gods at their own games, romance that leads to war, and all manner of tragedy in between – it’s much more exciting than princesses and knights and talking mice.”

Bilius cocked his head to the side. “How?”

Diana gracefully settled down next to him. “You’ll see.”