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marauder-misprint · 2 months ago

Note

Platonic Fred and Reader where they make everyone think their dating, but it’s all a joke to them

Hi! I know you said platonic, but this is 100% a friends-to-lovers fake dating trope ❤︎ So it started platonic...

I have no regrets. Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Friend who is a girl

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

8.6k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, fake dating, Y/N

It wasn’t uncommon to find you doing your homework in the common room. Sure, a lot of people did their homework there, but you had the ability of getting work done while the Weasley twins and Lee planned pranks and fine-tuned products for the Weasleys’ future joke shop. You picked up this skill over the years as the trio of troublemakers decided that you would be their fourth member. Sometimes you think back to the first time they talked to you and wonder if you actually had a choice in joining their group.

“Oi, what are you doing later?” Fred asks you, leaning over the table you’re sitting at.

“Nothing that I’m aware of,” you answer, not looking up from your book.

“Great! You’ll come watch quidditch practice then.”

You snort a laugh. “And why would I do that?”

“Because Wood’s girlfriend is going to watch and he told us to ask our girlfriends so she wouldn’t be so out of place in the stands.”

“Right… Um, two things. One, don’t you and George have a fan club or something that already goes to your practices? And two, we aren’t dating so I’m not… your girlfriend?”

“Ah, but you’re my girl… friend. Friend who is a girl. I figure it’s close enough. And there’s no fan club. Good to know you think I’m attractive enough to warrant one though,” he says with a wink.”

You roll your eyes. Yes, Fred was attractive, but he didn’t need you to tell him that. He already had one of the biggest egos. You’re not sure if you could handle him if he was any more cocky. He’s already assuming you’ll drop your plans to do nothing to sit outside and watch him fly around on a broom.

“Who’s George asking?”

“Dunno. George!” His voice carries across the common room to where his twin is sitting Lee.

The two look over at you and Fred. George immediately grins widely.

“She say yes?” he yelled back.

Fred gives you a look before saying, “Course she did. Who’re you asking again?”

George gets up and walks over to you and Fred, not wanting to yell across the common room.

“Beatrice Haywood, Hufflepuff, sixth year, doesn’t give a rat’s ass about quidditch,” George says. “We figured you could explain what’s going on to them.”

“Because I’m so knowledgeable about quidditch,” you snark.

You do know a fair bit about quidditch. How could you not with Gryffindor’s beaters and the regular match announcer as your closest friends? It was knowledge by association, proximity. Not by choice.

“More than they do,” Fred says. “You’re coming.”

You roll your eyes again and return to your book. But when the time came, you were walking down to the pitch with the boys. You sat between Beatrice and Oliver’s girlfriend, Gabrielle. As George predicted, you explained what was going on. More to Gabrielle than Beatrice. Thankfully, Oliver was running the Weasleys’ least favorite drills, meaning they had complained for hours on end about said drills and you actually knew what was going on. One of the more distracting parts of the practice was the group of fangirls who sat in the section behind you. Despite Fred’s denial of their existence, they were most certainly there for the twins and Harry Potter.

After the practice ended, you waited for the twins outside the locker room with Gabrielle as she waited for Oliver. You made polite conversation with her, asking about how her classes were going and what she was looking to go into after Hogwarts. Just simple questions to ask a seventh year that you didn’t really know. Soon enough, the twins walk out. Fred throws a casual arm over your shoulder, which you immediately duck under.

“Get your sweaty arm off me,” you say mirthfully. Was his sweaty arm gross? Yes, but it wasn’t like you hadn’t hugged the twins when they were sweaty after a match before.

“Oh, is my sweaty arm okay then?” George asks before putting his arm around your shoulders.

Fred seizes the opportunity and returns his arm to your shoulders as well. You’re effectively trapped between the two.

“Ugh, neither of your sweatinesses are appreciated!” you groan, causing both of them to laugh.

They don’t remove their arms from you until you’re back inside the castle. The walk back to the common room is filled with them complaining about the drills Oliver made them do over and over again.

“You know, if you did it correctly the first time, he wouldn’t have you do it ten times,” you say.

“Oi, she thinks it’s easy,” George says.

“I’d love to see you try it.”

“Ha,” you say dryly. “I will not be getting on that deathstick. No thank you.”

“I think you need to give it a second chance. Use one of our brooms. It’ll be a step up from the shitty school brooms we used first year,” Fred says.

“Madam Hooch said she passed me out of pity.”

“Ah, we’ll get you on a broom next time you come round the Burrow,” George says with some finality in his voice.

By then you’ve reached the Fat Lady and Fred gives her the password. You bid the boys good night and head to your dorm with the intent of showering to get their sweaty stench off of you. Alicia and Angelina are already in your dorm and doing homework when you walk in. They give you brief smiles before turning back to their work. Frankly, you’re a bit surprised that they didn’t ask about you being at practice, but you just assume that they are dead set on getting their homework done.

---

It didn’t take long for the first rumors to spread.

“Oliver’s new girlfriend went to watch the Gryffindors’ practice. She was there, sitting with her. That probably means she’s dating one of them too.”

“I saw Fred Weasley talking to her.”

“I didn’t know they were dating.”

“Must be a new thing.”

You slam your books down on the table at lunch as you wink into your usual spot next to Fred.

“The whispers, rumors, gossip. It’s driving me crazy, Fred. And it’s all your fault,” you say.

“My fault?”

“Insisting I go watch your little practice? Sit next to your captain’s girlfriend? All because being a friend who is a girl is, as you put it, close enough? Now it feels like half the school thinks we’re dating.”

Fred just shrugs. “Let them. Who cares?”

You did. You care. Not that you’re overly sociable, but you want the freedom to flirt and be flirted with. You’re an honest person and it feels weird to not correct people that you aren’t dating Fred. His not caring attitude just feels off for the situation. But you try to brush it under the rug. You can be nonchalant about it, or at least that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.

---

“Weasley!” Oliver calls, getting Fred’s attention as the ginger exits his last class of the day.

Fred nods to acknowledge Oliver before heading his way.

“What’s up, capt?”

“How would you feel about a double date?”

Fred raises his eyebrows in surprise. “A double date?”

“Yeah, erm, Gabrielle really liked sitting with Y/N at practice. Was hoping the four of us could do something together. Hogsmeade, next weekend?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N about it…”

“Brilliant. Gabs will be excited! You better get her to say yes, Weasley,” Oliver says before heading down the corridor.

Fred runs a hand through his hair, partially worried about what Oliver has just roped him into. You were already feeling iffy about people thinking you two were a couple. But you would say yes, right?

He heads to Charms, knowing it’s your last class of the day and won’t be too far. You’re chatting with Alicia when he finds you. Alicia excuses herself as soon as she spots Fred heading your way. He has a determined look on his face which she interprets as “incoming prank” and she didn’t want to be involved.

“Hey, Y/N. How would you fancy going on a double date?”

“Have you suddenly gotten yourself a proper girlfriend? And found me a suitor at the same time?” you report.

“Hmm, well, no. It seems Gabrielle, Wood’s girl, you know,” he starts to say.

“I’m familiar,” you interrupt.

“She’s taken a liking to you. They want a double date. So, clear your schedule for next weekend.”

“So not only does the whole castle think we’re dating, but now we’re going on dates? Despite not dating?”

“It’s one day, love. An afternoon, really. We’ll go, get drinks and chat and that’ll be all. Easy. No harm, no foul. You get free drinks and I keep my captain happy,” he says, trying to sell you on it.

You narrow your eyes at Fred. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Fantastic!” he says with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that/”

“I could stand to hear it more.”

“If you think about it, you’ll probably be hearing it all Saturday.”

“I will?”

“I mean, we’re leaning into this dating thing. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t remind you how great you are?”

You roll your eyes. “Probably a shite one. But still, you could remind me, as a friend, being that I do most of your Arithmancy homework.”

“I provide you with plenty of entertainment as compensation!”

“Entertainment you would provide either way.”

“How ‘bout this: I’ll buy you some chocolate frogs while we’re in Hogsmeade.”

You cross your arms with a satisfied look on your face. “Finally, proper payment.”

---

The walk to Hogsmeade on Saturday with Fred doesn’t feel like a date. It is just two close friends going to the wizarding village. Then you meet up with Oliver and Gabrille, who are holding hands and look very couple-y. It suddenly feels like you’re third wheeling, and Fred is also third wheeling, but that’s two third wheels and that’s not how things work. Gabrielle is nice and so is Oliver, but you still feel weird being here under the guise of having a relationship with Fred.

You and Fred both cringe as the other two lead you toward Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. It isn’t somewhere either of you would be caught dead in any other situation. You grab Fred’s arm as Oliver and Gabrielle enter without any qualms.

“You seriously owe me, Weasley,” you hiss before shoving him toward the door.

The shop is far too warm, too cramped and too frilly for your liking. Oliver and Gabrielle appear to have no issues with practically sitting in each other’s laps, electing to focus on each other rather than the steaming cups of tea in front of them. You sit as close as you can to the fogged-up windows. Any extra space between you and Fred would be appreciated, but despite your best efforts, his knee bumps into yours every few seconds as you both shift uncomfortably.

Everywhere you look inside the small shop, there are couples being overly affectionate. And that’s including across the table. That leaves you with two places to look: at Fred, who you’re afraid that if you look at him for too long, he might try something to further your dating ruse, or at your tea. You stare at your cup with its swirling steam. You assume it’s an enchanted brew, given the way the steam curls into hearts.

“Tea really that interesting?” Fred asks you in a low voice, almost as if to not bring attention to you despite there being no way that Oliver or Gabrielle are looking away from each other any time soon.

“Don’t think I’ve ever had enchanted tea, you know? Do you think it tastes funny? Or will it make this shop any less nauseating?” you reply, voice just as low.

“Yeah, not my first choice either. I’m guessing her choice.”

You look at Fred to ensure that he sees you rolling your eyes.

“Maybe he secretly loves lacy table runners. Have you considered that?”

“My boy loves one thing, Y/N. And it’s quidditch.”

“If he keeps at this like he is now, he’ll have two loves soon enough.”

“Then we’ll never win the Cup!”

“Oh no,” you say in mock horror. “What ever will we do?”

“What if I told you it was the same as suggesting you’ll never get an O in Transfiguration?”

You gasp loudly. “No! Take that back!”

“And now you see how dire the situation is.”

“No, that’s not fair. I actually need to do well in that class for my career. The Quidditch Cup is just bragging rights.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Tell me, Fred. How is winning the Cup going to help you with your joke shop?”

“Uh… Teamwork?”

You laugh. “I think losing would teach you better teamwork. And a bit of resilience.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Fred mutters while shaking his head.

“What? That joke product industry might be more cut-throat than you’re prepared for?”

“That you think we aren’t resilient!”

You scoff. “I know you are resilient. And there’s no one you work better with than George. You’ve already got those skills. Winning the Cup isn’t going to change that.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

“I have to agree with you on that.”

About half an hour passes with you and Fed chatting like that while you periodically take sips of your tea. The tea doesn’t make sitting in the shop any easier as you had hoped. It’s the chatting with Fred that distracts you from the fact that Oliver and Gabrielle are essentially snogging across the table from you. When you finish your tea, you set your cup on its saucer with a sharp clink. That gets their attention.

“You ready to head out?” Fred asks them as they sheepishly separate.

Their tea is completely untouched, yet they nod and get up. As the four of you walk around Hogsmeade, you plaster yourself to Fred’s side. Normally, you wouldn’t stand this close for so long. And normally, you wouldn’t entertain the way his hand continuously bumps into yours until he just grabs it. But you’re spending the afternoon with two people you don’t know all that well and the familiarity of Fred is necessary to get through the day.

Fred and Oliver exchange excited looks as you come up on Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

“Do you ladies mind if we nip in for a look around?” Oliver asks.

You drop Fred’s hand and cross your arms.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll wait out here,” you say.

“Me too” Gabrielle adds and the boys disappear into the shop with a tinkle of the door’s bell. “You and Fred are real cute together.”

“Thank you,” you choke out, certain it sounds like you’re being strangled. You, Fred and cute weren’t in a genuine statement often.

“No, really, I mean it. You really work together.”

You shrug. “Probably because he’s my best friend.”

That makes her smile. And it’s the truth. Out of everyone at Hogwarts, you are closest with Fred, which is probably why you agreed to this charade.

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Gabrielle coos. “Your person should be your best friend. Oliver and I, well, we just started dating so I can’t say he’s my best friend just yet, but I think we’ll get there.”

You mentally will the boys to hurry up. Talking with Gabrielle isn’t bad. It’s the talking about your relationship with Fred. What you have with him is platonic and you really don’t want to think about “how good you work together” romantically. If you entertained that idea, being in a real romantic relationship with Fred, the consequences are all that you can think about. What would happen to your friend group? What if you broke up and it was messy? What would happen to your friends then? Nope. Fred is your best friend and that’s all he will be.

You carefully direct the conversation to focus mainly on Gabrielle and her relationship with Oliver. You’re able to get by with not saying much about you and Fred. You try to not sigh a breath of relief when the boys walk out of the shop.

Your next stop is Honeydukes. On the walk over, you grab Fred’s hand and give it a squeeze. Fred looks down at you with a soft look on his face, but you don’t see it. You’re too focused on getting to the sweets shop to get your promised chocolate frogs. Once inside, you’re practically dragging Fred from stand to stand. This is something he’s used to. The amount of time the twins and Lee can spend in Zonko’s is the only rival to the amount of time you’ll take to decide which sweets and how many of each you want. The amounts you spend respectively are also similar.

After Honeydukes, Oliver and Gabrielle say they’re ready to head back, but you look at Fred and ask if he’d want to get butterbeers first. He nods and that’s where the double date ends. Despite no longer having to put on a show for Oliver and Gabrielle, you don’t let go of Fred’s hand until you’re sitting in the booth across from him.

“Sorry, but I need something to get that tea’s flavor out of my mouth,” you say, reaching to grab a chocolate frog already.

“Oi, make sure some of those make it back to the castle!”

“I’m having one, Fred. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“And you’re thinking about my knickers? Disgusting.”

You slap his hand that’s resting on the table and he gives you his trademark teasing grin.

“Oh! You want to know something funny?”

Fred gives you a look that says, ‘Really? Do you know who you’re talking to?’

“Right, of course you do,” you say flatly before continuing with more in your voice. “Gabrielle says we really work together. She called us cute.”

Fred tilts his head in confusion. “And why is this funny?”

“Because we’re not actually dating? It’s like, wow, shocker, two friends get along, totally weird, right?”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Fred. Just amusing to me how easily we pull off the couple look. That’s all.”

“You’re the one who’s all worried about the castle assuming we’re dating.”

“And you’re the one adding fuel to their fire!” you exclaim before placing your head in your hands. “Oh my Merlin. I think we already bicker like a couple and this isn’t even us getting into it. Remember when you wanted to paint the Transfiguration room red and gold after you got an O on your essay?”

Fred laughs. “You wouldn’t talk to me for a week, even after I told you we weren’t going to do it.”

“It was the principle! I stand by what I did.”

“Fucking spoke through Lee the entire time too. I think it would’ve been easier if you avoided me for the week rather than that.”

“Why?” you ask through a laugh.

“If you avoided me, you’d be avoiding George and Lee too. It wouldn’t’ve felt like it was just me, you know? But you spoke through Lee. You talked to George. It was so clearly me.”

“Your dumb idea, your dumb punishment.”

“So, when you say I really owe you for today…”

“It’s your price to pay. Not George’s and certainly not Lee’s.”

“Right. I figured as much.”

After you finish your butterbeers, you walk back to the castle. You don’t think about why Fred puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk. It makes you feel a smidge warmer, which is nice since the sun’s gone down. Tired from socializing all day, you head straight to your dorm once you get back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

You’re tired, but there’s assigned reading to get done so you recline on your bed with your Transfiguration book in front of you. You read about half the chapter when the door opens. Alicia, Angelina and Katie all come in. Katie’s got her school supplies with her so you assume it’s their Chaser Study TIme.

“So…. Y/N, when were you going to tell us about you ‘n’ Fred?” Angelina asks as she gets her own homework out.

“Yeah, since when did you start dating?” Alicia adds.

“Don’t… know…” you say slowly, trying not to lose your spot. “Ask Fred.”

You had been able to handle Gabrielle outside of the quidditch shop. You barely knew her and could parry her questions easily. These girls? After Fred, George and Lee, they are your next closest friends. You could talk about more girlier topics with them, stuff that you wouldn’t dream of talking about with the boys.

“Seriously cute together, you know,” Alicia says.

There’s that word again: cute.

Then she continues, “I knew you’d get with one of the twins. No way you’re that close for so long without doing one of them.”

Katie throws a pillow at her. “Don’t be so crude!”

“I’m just saying! They are fit!” She pointed at Angelina. “And it’s not just them! You remember their older brother – Charlie! Some of them Weasley genes are something else.”

Angelina snorts a laugh. “Some.”

“No, she has a point,” you say, closing your book. You know you’re not going to be able to read any more with these three in the room. “Fred, George, Charlie, dare I say Ron, they all have something that Percy seriously lacks.”

The rest of the girls start giggling.

“Looks, personality, charm. You name it!” Katie exclaims.

After a few more jabs at Percy’s lack of charisma, Angelina turns to you again.

“But really, Y/N, we didn’t even know you had a crush on him. How did it happen?”

“I… I guess I didn’t know I had a crush on him,” you say. You needed something believable. “He’s just always been my best friend. We’ve been close since first year and it… sorta just happened?”

“Is he a good kisser?” Katie asks, leaning forward with curiosity.

You turn bright red and look away from the girls. “We, um, we haven’t kissed.”

The room is filled with a mix of gasps and shrieks.

“What do you mean you haven’t kissed?”

“Is that not how you became ‘more than friends’?”

“I don’t believe you!”

Their reactions are too much for you. You get off your bed and head for the door.

“I’ll be, uh, back…” you say hurriedly.

Once the door is closed behind you, you take a deep breath. So you haven’t kissed Fred. You aren’t actually dating. You didn’t need to kiss him. Part of you, however, is wondering if maybe you should’ve lied to the girls, just said that he is a good kisser. Another part of you is wondering what he’s told his friends, what he’s told George and Lee because surely they’ve heard the rumors and knew that you were going on a double date today. Maybe they knew it was all fake – that would make you feel better if they did.

The common room is empty. You relish the quiet atmosphere as you take a seat in front of the couch on the floor in front of the fireplace. It isn’t too big or providing much warmth, dwindling down to just embers. But it’s something to look at as you think.

‘Let them,’ Fred had said. ‘We’re leaning into this dating thing.’

Right, ignore what people think. It’s your friendship with Fred. That shouldn’t be a spectacle for the whole castle. Even if it seems like Fred likes being the center of gossip.

---

You’re not sure what possesses you on Monday, but when the twins and the rest of the quidditch team start to head to the pitch, you’re right along with them. Once Fred gets over the momentary shock of seeing you walking with them, he slings his arm around your shoulder like it was something he did every day. After having his arm around you on Saturday, it doesn’t feel so foreign. His arm stays around you until you reach the locker rooms at the pitch.

“I’ll see you after practice,” you say, turning toward the stand.

Fred watches you until you disappear up the stairs. George and Harry had gone into the locker room without him. George gives Fred a curious look when he does join them, to which Fred just shakes his head in response. If George wanted to ask him about you, it could wait until after practice.

You take a seat next to Gabrielle, where you had sat at the previous practice. Only this time, it’s just the two of you, no Beatrice. Even with Oliver as her boyfriend, you are still explaining most of the practice to her. You think it’s a fair assumption that she likes you because you explain quidditch in simple terms, leaving out the effects of tailwind on velocity and how much the quaffle should spin if you’re doing a drop pass.

Your presence next to Grabrielle at practices quickly became commonplace. You both skipped out on Wednesday’s morning practice, but you were back for Thursday and Friday’s practices. Those next two practices, you walked down with Fred’s arm around you. If the rest of the team didn’t believe the dating rumors before, they certainly did now.

After Friday’s practice, you work on your homework in the common room. There’s a match tomorrow against Hufflepuff and everyone’s been talking about how it’ll be an easy win. That means you need to get your homework done ahead of time because while you can work through your friends’ prank planning, you can’t work through a party. Lee’s sitting next to you as you work. He has his Potions essay in front of him, but with the way his head is propped up on his hand, it’s clear that he’s not working.

George is the next to join you. Freshly showered and his own essay for Snape in hand, he plops down in the seat next to Lee, leaving one more spot at the table to your right. For Fred, you thought. But Fred doesn’t come down anytime soon after George. You hate that you’re distracted by waiting for him to appear. Instead of working on your Transfiguration assignment, your eyes keep drifting to the boys’ staircase.

“Snape wants… how many inches again?” George groans, letting the top half of his parchment curl over itself.

“Two feet,” Lee says. He had managed to get a little bit done with George working on the same assignment. “I’m like six inches short.”

“Ditto… Swap?”

“Swap.”

You roll your eyes as the boys lean closer together to read each other’s essay in hopes the other has information they can use to fill the last bits of space on their parchment. You’re not judging them. You’ve done the same thing with them before. That’s why you know that it’s more beneficial for them to swap with you than each other. The three boys’ essays always read fairly similar while yours have different points.

You’re working slower than molasses, trying to finish this one assignment before you give up. Your endless peaks toward the stairs aren’t helping.

Then he appears. His hair is dryer than when George came down, so you can assume that he hung around his dorm for a while before deciding to grace the common room with his presence. Only when he walks toward your table, you notice that he’s not carrying homework. He’s carrying a red fabric. He sets it in front of you before taking the open seat next to you.

“What’s this?” you ask, picking it up and letting it unfurl.

It was a quidditch jersey. With Weasley and 2 across the back.

“Girlfriends wear their boyfriend’s jersey to matches,” he says nonchalantly with a smirk.

You lean closer to him and whisper, “Are we still doing this?”

His smirk turns into a mischievous grin. “Might as well. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Don’t push your luck, Weasley,” you snap, sitting up straighter.

You quickly gather your things, including the crimson jersey, and head to your dorm. It is fun being with Fred, even if it’s just pretend. Because, well, it’s Fred. Fun is practically synonymous with him.

That doesn’t mean that you don’t feel odd as you stare at your reflection in the morning, wearing Fred’s extra jersey and jeans. You look positively like a girlfriend. You think about everyone who’s called you and Fred cute. Do you look like his girlfriend? You turn around and then look over your shoulder to see the letters spelling his last name sprawling across your back.

It’s a shame that your roommates are all on the team and had to be at the field early. There’s no one to tell you that you look okay, that it’s normal for a girlfriend, albeit fake, to wear her boyfriend’s jersey. That it was cute that he gave it to you without you asking. There’s no one here to pull you out of your dorm. You have to go on your own accord. Which you do. Eventually. After talking yourself up in the mirror for a few more minutes.

The all-consuming out-of-place feeling you have remains as you make your way to the pitch. You can feel eyes on you, on the jersey, reading your back as you pass by.

W-E-A-S-L-E-Y

You’re branded as his. And you find that you don’t think you would mind it if it wasn’t fake.

The eyes remain as you find a spot in the stands. You swear you see Ron and Hermione whispering to each other when you pass them. You wonder what Ron thinks about seeing his last name across your back. Why did you care what he thought?

Then Gabrielle finds you. You feel the weight of feeling out of place lift off of you. She’s wearing Oliver’s jersey. Even if they are a real couple, it’s nice to not be the only one in someone’s jersey. And then you realize why Fred gave you his jersey – Oliver must have mentioned that he was giving his to Gabrielle to wear. First it was practices, then the double date, and now game days. This was for Oliver and Gabrielle.

Even if that is what this is, you can’t deny the look on Fred’s face when he spots you. You swore you saw him scanning the crowd, looking for you. And when he finds you, he gets the brightest smile you’ve seen from him in a while. Then there’s a yell from Oliver to get into position and Fred’s game face takes over.

Fred plays better than you’ve ever seen. He’s everywhere and all of his hits are going exactly where he wants them to. And he still has the time to look your way. Sure, he’s looked your way during a match before, but this felt different. You know it’s because he’s pretending to be your boyfriend. The looks aren’t as platonic, if that’s possible. It’s strange that he can make miniscule changes in his expression to convey a deeper meaning that you understand from across the pitch.

Just as predicted, Hufflepuff doesn’t stand a chance. The score is heavily in Gryffindor’s favor when Harry catches the snitch. You join the rest of the Gryffindors in storming the pitch to congratulate the team. You feel yourself being shoved toward Fred, who picks you up in a bone-crushing hug to spin you around. You let out a giddy laugh that Fred mirrors. Like usual at this point, when he sets you back down, his arm is left slung over your shoulder and your arm is loosely around his waist. Once again, you feel that if anyone was still doubting the status of your relationship with Fred, they wouldn’t now.

You remain at Fred’s side as he talks with everyone congratulating him on the win. He’s basking in the attention and you can’t help but smile up at him. It’s nice to see your best friend so happy. You miss the knowing look that George gives Fred after seeing you like that.

Under Fred’s arm you stay until the pitch empties out and the team starts disappearing into the locker room to put away their things before returning to the common room.

“I’ll see you up there, love,” Fred says softly as he lets go of you.

You smile and wave to him. Just like that Monday practice, Fred watches you walk away until you’re out of sight before going into the locker room. He smiles to himself. He doesn’t even care that George sees him looking like a fool.

You’ve chosen one of the arm chairs by the fire to sit in while you wait for the team. Can’t really have a party to celebrate their win without them. You’re just observing the other Gryffindors when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“You must be good for him,” Percy says. “Never seen Fred play that well.”

You’re not sure if Percy’s ever actually spoken to you before, besides the occasional side note of telling you to try to keep your friends out of trouble. Like you could control them.

“Thank you?” you say, it sounding more like a question than anything.

He nods and walks away. Okay, weird encounter. You shake your head and turn to people-watching.

A roar of cheers announces the team’s arrival with Oliver and Harry leading the bunch. Anyone who hadn’t gotten the chance to congratulate them on the pitch is crowding them now, clapping hands on their shoulders and backs. Somehow, through the masses, Fred spots you and makes his way toward your chair. You suddenly realize that you haven’t congratulated him yet.

“You played really well,” you say, grinning up at him.

“I know,” he replies casually, sitting down on the couch right next to you. “Come ‘ere. Let George or Lee sit there.”

You roll your eyes but get up anyway. He grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap. You hadn’t realized that’s what he meant by “Come here.” His lap. You’d sat next to Fred during post-quidditch parties before, but never in his lap. This is new territory that you’re unable to leave because Fred’s got his arm anchored around your waist.

When George and Lee make their way to the armchair and couch, they are both carrying two drinks. Lee hands one to you and George hands the other to Fred.

“Thank you very much,” Fred says, enunciating each word.

“So, Y/N, what have you been doing to him?” Lee asks.

You give him a pointed yet confused look.

“Fred’s accuracy has never been that good.”

You lean forward as much as you can with Fred’s arm holding you in place.

“What if I told you I tampered with the bludgers?”

“Only to respond to Fred’s bat then? Georgie’s aim could’ve been better.”

“Oi!” George exclaims, looking insulted.

“He’s not wrong,” Fred says with a laugh.

That was the joke that kept coming back for the rest of the day as your quartet lounged around. The rest of the common room was filled with louder conversation and music. Drinks were passed around and refilled. Someone at some point went to get snacks for everyone. It wasn’t the wildest party Gryffindor’s thrown but it was good. It felt nice to just sit and be held by Fred.

And then an up-beat, high-tempo song comes. It gets the attention of several people and suddenly, the area behind the couch is filled with people dancing.

You lean backwards to whisper into Fred’s ear, “Care to dance?”

He nods and loosens his grip on your waist, allowing you to get up. You grab his head and lead him to where the dancing is happening. You don’t think about what you’re doing. All you know is that the music is very danceable. It’s easy to match the energy of the people around you. And it’s even easier when Fred’s hands find your hips to hold your body closer to his, moving in sync.

For half a second, you want to take a step backwards and say, ‘Leave room for Merlin’ with a laugh. But you remember that you’re still leaning into the dating rumors. You let Fred continue to move your body, even if it made your heart pound in a way you didn’t want to think about. Song after song, you’re up against Fred. You’ve never been this close to him, never been able to feel his body, his muscles like this, never been able to smell his cologne this strongly. (Why they showered in the locker rooms after games and not practices is lost on you.)

Eventually, you tire and drag Fred back to the couch. Lee and George have disappeared elsewhere so it’s just you and him. And a few other Gryffindors but you weren’t talking to them. He sits down first and pulls you back into his lap, resuming how you were before you got up to dance.

“You’re still in my jersey,” Fred mutters as his fingers play with the hem of it.

“I didn’t know if I should’ve changed after the game.”

“You decided correctly.”

“Gabrielle still wearing Oliver’s?”

“I’d assume so… Although I haven’t seen them in a while so she might not be anymore…” His voice trails off as he waggles his eyes.

“Oh my Godric! You did not need to go there!”

He laughs. “But you know it’s true.”

“And you know I didn’t need to think about Oliver naked.”

“Are you thinking about…” A mischievous glint sparkles in Fred’s eyes. “Wood’s wood?”

You slap his shoulder, which only makes him laugh louder.

“You are disgusting, Fred Weasley.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you blush,” he says teasingly.

It’s then that you realize his comment did make you blush. You hide your face in his shoulder. The arm that’s wrapped around you gives you a little squeeze.

“Ah, come on, love. I’m just teasin’. You know that.”

“I do,” you mumble into his shoulder. “I just don’t talk about people’s… wood with you guys.”

Now Fred’s desperately trying to get your face out of his shoulder, moving it backwards and using his other hand to create space between your cheek and his shoulder.

“Are you saying you discuss that with not guys?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

Your blush deepens to match the jersey you’re wearing.

“Oh my Merlin, you do!”

You groan loudly and attempt to hide your face again, but Fred doesn’t let you.

“Tell me, does mine come up?”

Despite his grip on you, you rip yourself off of his lap. You did not need to tell Fred that, yes, you and your roommates had discussed what you thought each guy in your year was packing. Those were conversations that are better left in the confines of your dorm. You decide that that’s enough for the night. You’ve danced, drank and chatted. You can go to bed without anyone calling you a party pooper.

But then Fred’s arm is around your waist again and he’s directing you to the boys’ stairs rather than the girls’.

“Weasley,” you warn quietly.

A quick glance over your shoulder has you seeing George, Lee and their other roommate, Kenneth. Still, Fred continues to push you up the stairs and into their dorm. Your mind is spinning. What was he expecting?

He closes the door behind you and then lays down on his bed. His eyes flutter closed. You stand by the door, unmoving for a minute.

“You going to stand there all night?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

“I… I hope you’re not… ah, expecting anything?”

He pats the area on his bed next to him. You reluctantly sit on the edge of the bed near where he patted. You’re sitting too far away for Fred’s liking. You’d laid on his bed before. It was always his bed you laid on when the four of you hung out in their dorm. Kenneth was often banished the moment you showed up.

“Y/N, I’m going to jump or anything,” Fred says, peeking through his eyelids to see you sitting just within arms reach. “If that’s what you’re thinking… Because of what I said downstairs…”

“Yeah…” you murmur.

Then you move more onto his bed and recline slowly. You’re both laying on your backs, shoulder to shoulder. Fred’s got his hands behind his head and you’re hugging yourself.

After a few minutes of silence, you ask, “So why couldn’t I go to my dorm?”

“Wasn’t done hanging out with you.”

You snort a laugh. “Right.”

“I made a dumb comment, yeah? And then you go hide away for the rest of the night? Nah.”

“Nah,” you echo softly. “So you figure that you’ll drag me up here to what?”

He hums. “This.”

“Stare at your canopy?”

“I guess.” He pauses before adding, “Anything really. ‘S my job to keep you from hiding in your dorm all night.”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable time to go to bed!”

“You’d be doing homework! Reading your Transfiguration book or something.”

“And this is so much better?”

“Yes.”

Silence falls between you again, but it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Thank goodness Fred’s your best friend or you’re certain it would be uncomfortable to lay next to him like this. There’s a question that you keep turning over in your mind that you can’t bring yourself to ask. You want to know how long Fred plans on pretending to be your boyfriend. Should you be pretend-breaking it off soon so that your friend group can stay intact without being weird? Do George and Lee know it’s fake? Lee didn’t appear to know it was, but maybe he was acting earlier. But as you lay next to Fred, now doesn’t feel like the right time to ask him.

When his breathing evens out to shallow breaths, you look over at him. He is most definitely sleeping. You smile at his peaceful form. Then you get up and quietly leave his dorm. You’re not sure what time it is, but you’re trying to be sneaky. You are leaving the boys’ dorms after a party and that could start some more rumors if you aren’t careful. You think you’ve successfully switched from the boys’ stairs to the girls’ when a hand grabs your bicep.

“Y/N.”

George.

You turn and give him a polite smile.

“Um, you know you could’ve spent the night,” he says rather sheepishly. “Me and Lee, we don’t mind. And Towler can deal.”

So maybe George doesn’t know it was fake.

“Thanks, George, but I think it’s too soon to be spending the night,” you say.

He nods and lets go of your arm, like he didn’t realize he was still holding onto it. You head up the rest of the stairs. Maybe you should ask Fred at some point what he did tell George and Lee about this faux relationship.

---

You never can ask him. You can’t bring yourself to ask Fred when this is going to end, how it’s going to end and what did he tell your friends. The moment never feels right.

It doesn’t help that pretending to be Fred’s girlfriend gets easier with each passing day. It’s just like being best friends, but on overdrive. There are also more times when Fred leaves George and Lee behind to find you, to hang out with you. He’s even gone to the library to study with you when you needed extra books for an assignment.

The one thing that might have had people second guessing your relationship was a lack of public kissing. There was the occasional kiss pressed to your hairline or your forehead or your cheek, but that was it. The top of the head kisses weren’t new. Fred and George had given you those over the years as you helped with pranks or various homework assignments. But the first time Fred kissed your cheek, it left you more flustered than you would ever admit. It was the most genuine affection you had ever received from a boy. It wasn’t followed by an off-hand ‘you’re the best.’ No. The kiss had been placed on your cheek right before Fred left breakfast early, having forgotten his homework in his dorm. It was a goodbye kiss that you hadn’t been expecting. A goodbye kiss that had you hiding behind your mug for the rest of breakfast, willing your blush to disappear.

You went to Hogsmeade with Fred, George and Lee. They went into Zonko’s, leaving you to either follow them around for at least an hour in that shop or go off on your own for a bit. You chose the latter, not caring to look over the same products that they would spend another hour in their dorm later showing you. You wander around for a little bit before going into Spintwitches. You’re not exactly sure why, but you were drawn inside. You look around, thinking about how Fred really had been performing better this term.

You stop in front of the beater section of the store. In the middle of the display is a new bat that you’ve heard Fred talk about for months. He even wrote about it in his letters to you over the summer. Something about it having better grip and a special weight distribution to help with aim. You’re not really sure what made it all that special, but you’re sure that Fred wants it. You barely glance at the cost before telling the shopkeep that you’d like to buy it.

You claim a booth in the Three Broomsticks and wait for the boys. Meeting them there after their Zonko’s visit was the usual plan and sure enough, after fifteen minutes or so, they appear.

“Got you somethin’,” you say casually as Fred slides onto the bench next to you.

His eyes go wide as you place the box in front of him. George has an identical look on his face, staring at the box.

“Y/N… you shouldn’t have…”

“You’ve been eyeing it for months. Plus, isn’t this what girlfriends do? Spoil our boyfriends?” you say with a teasing lilt.

Fred pulls you into a tight hug and whispers, “Leaning into it now, are you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Now, you really owe me.”

Fred chuckles as he pulls back.

“No, really, Y/N, thank you.”

“Wait, where’s mine?” George asks. “I want a new bat!”

“Get a girlfriend, then mate,” Lee laughs.

For the rest of the time that you’re in Hogsmeade, Fred keeps stealing glances at you. You don’t notice, nor do you notice the way that when he does look at you, it’s with the softest look, full of adoration.

In your head, you know that Fred doesn’t owe you. If he was your real boyfriend, you would’ve bought the bat for him without a second thought. You would’ve suffered through as many Madam Puddifoot’s dates with Oliver and Gabrielle as he needed you to. You would spend the night in his dorm, rather than leave when he falls asleep. You would do anything for him.

---

It’s about halfway through December when something changes.

“Y/N!” Fred calls from across the corridor. He didn’t have a class last period and it looks like he’s been waiting for you. He jogs up to you. “Mum wants to know when you’ll be joining us at the Burrow.”

You look taken aback. You shake your head briefly to shake the confused look from your features.

“I didn’t know I was coming to the Burrow?”

“You’re my girlfriend. Of course you’re coming to the Burrow,” he says like it’s common knowledge.

You grab his arm and pull into the nearest alcove, away from the students now filling the corridor.

“Fake girlfriend. I didn’t know that this extended past the wall of Hogwarts?”

Fred runs an anxious hand through his hair. “Well, I mean, Ginny’s written to Mum about you. I think Perc has mentioned you too.. You have to come. I think Mum would murder me if I broke up with you right before Christmas.”

“Merlin, Fred!” you sigh exasperated, throwing your head back and reaching to run a hand through your own hair.

“Did it get a bit out of hand? Yes. But… I mean… I’m not complaining.”

“You got a happy captain and a new bat. You have no reason to complain.”

He huffs a laugh. “I have one reason to complain.”

“Really?” you say disbelievingly.

You cross your arms and give Fred an expectant look.

“Yes, a happy captain is good and the new bat was a widely unexpected plus. But spending time with you and seeing you in my jersey? Fuck Y/N…” He paused momentarily, giving you the brief impression that spending time with you was his complaint. “My complaint is that you keep saying this is fake.”

Your expression immediately scrunches into something resembling confusion.

“Because it is? You said I’m your friend who is a girl. You called this fun.” You try to take in Fred’s unreadable expression. “Isn’t that all it’s been? Just fun to mess with people for believing a rumor? And to make Oliver happy?”

“That’s… That’s certainly how it started.”

A beat passes.

“And now?” you ask.

“I don’t think I can go back to being just friends.”

Oh.

“This… more than friends… I want it. I want it with you.”

Oh.

He stares into your eyes for a few seconds, searching for something, some kind of reaction beyond shock. Then he leans in quickly. The kiss is soft, gentle and barely there. But it happened. His lips touched yours and now you’re breathless.

He takes a step back and presses his lips together for a moment. He’s still watching you.

“Y/N… please say something,” he whispers.

Right, words. You need to say those. You open your mouth but all that comes out is a squeak.

“Is… Is that a good noise? Bad noise? Should I be running? Groveling? Going to tell George and Lee I just ruined our group?”

“Burrow,” you manage to say.

You want to disappear on the spot. That’s the word you went with? Your brain must’ve short circuited because that didn’t answer a single one of Fred’s flurry of questions. Except he seems to understand what you meant as he sighs with a small smile playing at his lips.

“Mum’s not expecting you to stay for the whole time. Honestly, I think she’d love to have you for one day. I’d like to have you there for a few days, but I know I kinda sprung this on you and you probably already have plans with your family.”

You nod. You don’t trust yourself to speak just yet. Not when your last attempt ended up with you saying ‘Burrow.’ Fred watches intently as you walk deeper into the alcove and sit down beneath the window. He cautiously sits next to you, unsure of what else to do.

“How long?” you ask quietly.

“As long as you want to stay. Mum loves hosting people.”

You shake your head and take a deep breath.

“When did it stop being fake for you?” you ask, clarifying your previous question.

“Oh…” he says with a sharp breath. “When you started regularly coming to practice.

That wasn’t long after this whole thing started, you realize. It was before he even gave you his jersey. Before you randomly gifted him a new beater’s bat. So this whole semester that you’ve been having to remind yourself that it’s fake, he’s been having to do the same thing?

“Love, can you say something?” he asks, his voice shaky and unsure. “Where do we stand?”

“I… I kept saying it was fake to remind myself that it was, that we were doing this for fun.”

Fred waits a moment for you to say more, but when you don’t, he asks again, “So where do we stand?”

“You don’t need to tell George and Lee that you ruined the friend group. As long as you don’t break my heart.”

tags: @navs-bhat

#marauder-misprint #hp fic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter fic #lightning era #request

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crescentofthegods · 3 months ago

Text

STORMY THUNDERCLOUDS!

pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

request: harry didn’t think seeing you with someone like dean could make him feel so… worthless.

word count: 2,667

warnings: FLUFF, slightly angsty bc harry compares himself to dean, swear words, lovely little smooch at the end, added a bit of romione somewhere, jealous harry, reader lowkey overthinks everything and it makes harry feel like shit, etc etc!

author's note: i’m sorry this is so late anon😭😭 i will proofread this later but i hope you like it!

taglist: @floweringrott ♡

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BEING ‘JUST FRIENDS’ WITH YOU OF ALL PEOPLE was proving to be a dangerous task for the Chosen One. Finally, he’d figured out his feelings—whatever bond the pair of you shared was certainly not cordial. And, he knew you thought it too.

So, naturally, he assumed there was an established sort of… situationship. Harry hadn’t really talked about it with you, but he was just going with his gut; a stupid thing to think in all honesty.

Clarification is key. But, because he hadn’t clarified it, he was forced to watch you have some sort of ‘conversation’ with Dean, who had just broken up with Ginny. There he was, laughing with you, touching your arm as you grinned in return, his fingers slowly trailing towards yours so they could intertwine—

“You’re clenching your fists,” a feminine voice broke Harry’s agitated daze, his green eyes snapping towards Hermione, who sat before him, her expression written with disapproval. Ron was too busy stuffing his face to acknowledge the pair. Pressing his lips together in irritation, Harry cleared his throat, staring at his plate of food—bangers and mash. He didn’t even want it now, not with the image of Dean Thomas and you giggling together like you were the best of buds.

The calm buzz of the Great Hall had returned. The sixth year hadn’t even noticed that he’d been staring for the last five minutes—why were you sitting with Dean? Sure, you shared Ancient Runes with him; that didn’t mean you had to walk and talk with him and even have lunch with the guy. You always sat with Harry—

“Harry—you’ve summoned a thundercloud!” Hermione interrupted once again, sighing with exasperation as the brunette glanced towards the enchanted ceiling of the hall, only to see what his best friend had described—it was a thundercloud, and it looked ready to strike him; be that as it may, his bushy-haired friend was quick with her wand, causing the cloud to dissipate.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, Hermione having to strain her neck just to hear him.

“What is with you? You’re not even reading your stupid Half-Blood Prince book—”

“It’s not stupid,” he was quick to defend his extremely informative textbook, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked away. “And, anyway, there’s nothing… ‘with me’. I’m fine.” Slurping his pumpkin juice, Ron practically guffawed, shaking his head as he placed his goblet down.

“He’s staring again,” he nudged Hermione, Harry rolling his eyes as both of their gazes flitted towards you and Dean.

“Ahhh,” she nodded, like she’d understood the situation at long last. “That makes sense, actually.” The Chosen One, who didn’t appreciate what his friends were trying to imply, simply scoffed, scratching the back of his head and forcing himself to stare at them instead of you.

“I’m not bloody staring. You’re staring,” was all he said in response to Ron, zipping his mouth shut when he watched your approaching figure.

“The fuck do you mean I’m staring—?”

“Hi, guys!” you beamed, bright as a ray of sunshine per usual, sliding in right next to Harry as you flipped your hair over your shoulder, your strawberry-scented perfume wafting towards him as he tried not to collapse right in front of you.

Everything about you was amazing. Your lovely, luscious locks. Your perfectly sculpted countenance. Your god-given body, not that he ogled it on a daily basis—Harry just appreciated how heavenly you appeared without even trying. An angel amongst men was what Harry once called you during a vulnerable moment… he meant every word. He’d say it every day just to see your graceful smile decorate your pretty lips, your dimples curated either side which made you shine like the planet Venus during the night.

Despite every thought sprinting through his mind, every image of you imprinted on his neurons, he couldn’t let go of you and Dean. The way you grinned at him—only Harry could make you grin like that.

“Harry?” your soft voice shattered his spiral, concerned eyes meeting his darkened ones, your fingers intertwining with his—Dean’s fingers had intertwined with yours—

DEAN, DEAN, DEAN—

“Are you alright?” Again, your murmur saved him from despair. But, it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t do this. Not now, not with you.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, suddenly sliding out of his seat, leaving you utterly befuddled as he stormed out of the Great Hall, messing with the Windsor knot of his tie as he walked. You gazed at his retreating form, thunderclouds anchoring the beats of your heart as you furrowed your eyebrows, meeting Hermione’s look of indignation—it wasn’t towards you, of course, but it was definitely aimed at Harry, who fled the scene like some coward. What was wrong with him?

“Is he okay?” you asked quietly, fiddling with your fingers, your gaze flicking between ‘Mione and Ron. “Did… did he leave because of me?” Everything between you and Harry had been fine earlier. Perfect, actually. He had walked you to your Runes lesson, listening to you rant about the difference between ehwaz and eihwaz—

“Genuinely makes no freaking sense. How the fuck am I supposed to remember that ehwaz means partnership and eihwaz means defense? They’re basically pronounced the exact same way!” You complained, pouting as you did so, your expression crumpling even further as you leaned your forehead against Harry’s shoulder, hearing his deep chuckle, his large hand cradling your head. “Don’t make me go in there…”

“You know you want to. Professor Babbling’s been off sick and she’s finally back—you said you missed her.”

“Well, yeah, but…” you ended up groaning quietly, hiding in his chest, Harry’s grin only widening. He loved seeing you like this; an adorable thing, you were, clinging to him like some bunny.

“Come on, love,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you (he didn’t want you to go either, but he knew he’d be seeing you at lunch). His lips brushed your hair as your head tucked itself under his chin—anyone would think you were some odd, but normal couple with the way you both were embracing each other in the middle of the hallway.

They helped him, these hugs. Distracted him, even. Voldemort, Slughorn’s memory he was yet to retrieve, his impending NEWTs mocks… Everything was just too much—

But, you… you were his saving grace.

“Fine,” you grumbled, pulling away, albeit reluctantly, lifting your gaze—your sullen pout still stuck to your lips as Harry laughed. “But you better meet me in the hall after.”

“Of course. Always.”

“—Are you mental? No,” Ron retorted, pushing his plate away, wiping his mouth with his sleeve; Hermione grimaced, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth for him as Ron tried to reassure you. “You know Harry. He’s… just a bit thick sometimes. He forgot that textbook of his.”

“Yeah! Yeah…” Hermione agreed, tossing the napkin onto the ginger’s plate as she continued. “He’ll be back.”

“Right…” you nodded, feeling a little relieved as your eyes fell to your lap, swallowing the lump in your throat. He definitely did not leave because of you. Definitely not. Right.

Fuck.

“Uh…” you cleared your throat, standing up, running your hands through your hair before readjusting your robes. “I’ll just go after him—”

“Yes! Yeah, you do that,” Ron complied, Hermione’s head bobbing quite enthusiastically.

“We’ll be right here!”

With that, you zoomed off, politely pushing past people, your heartbeats growing louder by the minute—like a storm had concurred. Did something happen between Runes and now? Did you do something wrong?

“They need to shag already,” Ron mumbled in your absence, causing Hermione to gasp, swatting his arm like his comment had offended her personally. “What?”

DISTRACTIONS, DISTRACTIONS, DISTRACTIONS.

He was doing anything just to keep the thought of you away. In the comforts of his own room, nothing could bother him—not Dean, not Voldemort, not Slughorn…

Harry was on the floor of his dorm (shared with Ron, Seamus, Neville and damned Dean), the Marauders Map in his lap, just staring at the footsteps of random students going by—the pads of his fingers itched the ancient parchment, his lips pursed as if he was concentrating. A particular trail caught his eye, the prints belonging to Draco Malfoy, who had appeared in a random hallway out of nowhere; what was he up to?

Still and all, Harry did not care for Malfoy. Not when your footsteps decorated the page all of a sudden, leaving the Great Hall… by yourself? Shaking his head, Harry looked elsewhere, desperate to see where… well. Anyone. He couldn’t talk to you. Not like this. He was the definition of cowardice. Despair. Being jealous over a guy was… a new thing. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this—

Is this what love felt like? Is this what his father felt whenever his mother chose Snape over him?

The difference was that Dean was a decent bloke. Nice. Respectful. Good with spells. Similar to Harry in that sense. But Dean wasn’t… cursed. He wasn’t the Boy who Lived. He wasn’t going to be the boy who would soon be Voldemort’s demise—Harry knew that was his only purpose. You could be normal with Dean. You couldn’t ever be normal with Harry…

“Who are you spying on now?” The gentleness of your question splintered his deprecating thoughts, his head snapping towards the entrance of his dorm in slight surprise. He couldn’t tell if he was pleased or aggravated by your presence. For one thing, you caused his anxious tendencies to disappear. Anyhow, he was still peeved about Dean.

Fucking perfect Dean Thomas out of all people.

In your eyes, Harry merely grimaced—you had your own tendencies to contemplate and overthink… Harry was not grimacing (at least, not towards you), rather his expression was a mix of happiness and dreaded envy. Anyone could misinterpret that. The Chosen One was far too expressive, so much so that he’d normally get into quite a lot of trouble with Snape because of it.

“I can leave… you seem, um, busy—” your smile had dropped, and Harry immediately cursed himself, interrupting you swiftly.

“No!” his exclamation caught you off guard and he cleared his throat, looking away with coloured cheeks. “I mean, uh, no. Stay. Please,” his quiet mumble was purely out of shyness, in fear of rejection. You were special. A rainbow within a mass of thunderclouds.

Thunderclouds that no longer caged your aching hearts.

Your smile appeared as quickly as it left, the corners of your lips quirked up in a way that Harry knew it was genuine. He didn’t know if he was gaslighting himself, but he could’ve sworn you only smiled like this with him and no one else. In Harry’s eyes, your smile had fifteen different variations at the least.

Shutting the door behind you, you walked towards where he sat by his bed, careful to not accidentally trample Ron’s many socks that scattered his side of the room. You tucked your locks behind your ears before sitting down beside him, pulling your knees to your chest, your bright eyes finding his face. Troubled. He looked troubled. And, even though his two best friends reassured you, you couldn’t help but ask him…

“Did I do something wrong?” Your usually placid voice had now resounded to a disheartened whisper, something Harry was unintentionally the cause of. His head whipped around to meet your gaze, his eyebrows furrowed in slight devastation.

His jealousy had caused you to feel like this. Damn you, Harry.

“Of course not,” he assured, pushing the Marauder’s Map off his lap, his attention fully on you and you only. You nibbled your bottom lip, looking away from him, your knees relaxing.

“But then… Why did you leave?” Reluctance embraced your tone like it was an old friend. Harry knew you well, knew you well enough to understand your anxieties. Your nerves. He hated himself for even assuming you and Dean had something going on—it was now clear that that hadn’t been the case.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Harry sighed; it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows. “It wasn’t you—it’s never you,” your eyes met as he spoke with that soft tone of his, a tone he only really reserved for you. “I was… uh,” he struggled to speak, struggled to voice why he was slightly upset. He would only look pathetic.

You noticed this, of course. You always notice. Delicate fingers trailed towards his, your warm hand embracing his larger, calloused palm, comforting him. Reassuring him that you were there to listen. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he leaned against his bed, not finding the courage to look you in the eye anymore—the ceiling accepted his look of despair.

“I was jealous, is all,” he admitted, bewildering you as he scoffed to himself. “Of you and… Dean.” His words had knocked you for a twist; out of all things, you hadn’t expected him to say that—he had been jealous the entire time? Your initial bewilderment dissipated, wanting to understand, well… why?

“For what reason?” you asked, your lips parting as Harry’s head turned towards you.

“Just… the way you were both interacting, I guess,” he muttered, not knowing how to explain it.

“Interacting?” you repeated, amusement lacing your tone as he rolled your eyes—that smile you always adored found his lips.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, trying not to seem so affected by your quiet giggle in response. “You were both laughing and it just… set me off. I don’t know why,” he finished with a sigh, scratching his head after turning away from you, his eyes meeting the floor. “Dean’s everything I wish I could be. You might—” he stopped himself before he could go further, and that only increased your intrigue.

“I might what?”

“You might…” his eyes closed. Like he was defeated. Ready to accept his fate. “You might actually like me if I was more like him. If I wasn’t… the Chosen One.”

He was met with silence. He couldn’t bring himself to even look at you, but you were in a plight of shock; you didn’t even realise that Harry had let go of your hand. Shock might actually be an understatement. You already gathered that the rumours were true—that he really was destined to end You-Know-Who once and for all. Nonetheless, what you were contemplating over and over in your head, was his confession.

He liked me?

“As in… more than friends?” Harry smiled then, a breathless chuckle escaping him—he adored you, adored that you always had to be absolutely sure.

“Yeah. More than friends.” That was all you needed. Those four words. Those two sentences of reassurement to let you know that you weren’t just imagining this. And, you hated him, moreso yourself, for not telling you sooner. For making you overthink for the last couple of weeks.

“Harry James Potter,” you exhaled, shaking your head with disbelief. “You really are as thick as Ron says.”

“Wait. What—?”

The softest of lips mingled with his as soon as you leaned in, testing the waters before Harry reeled you in completely, your hand landing on his chest so you could steady yourself. Your eyes were closed, Harry simply enjoying how they felt like his pillows, your lips. How they felt heavenly against his. Gentle, light, tender—nothing like the palpitating storms that bothered him daily. As you steadied yourself, his hands found your hips, bringing you as close as possible so you could settle in his lap, the pair of you unable to break the kiss as it developed into something more; hunger, need, desire. You could feel it escaping him—every word he couldn’t give voice to melted like molten, hugging your heart like it was something you were used to; the thunderclouds disappeared long ago, and yet, Harry was making sure they were gone for good.

Lips locked together in a lovely embrace. Soft clicks filling the dorm like this was a normal occurrence.

Harry had never felt more at home. You in his arms. You in his heart.

#𓂃crescent.✩‧₊˚#𓂃luna’s requests.✩‧₊˚#hp fandom #harry potter #hp fanfic #harry james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter angst #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter fluff

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upthehillnsfw · 6 months ago

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Commission for anonymous🤭

Click for full version / Alternative

#ahhshhhgrhgb this request was a bLESSING thank you!!#wolfstarbucks #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #marauders #slash #triad #poly #polyamory #hp triad #lemon #commission #request

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volturissideslut · 1 year ago

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head over heels george weasley?🥹

𝕲𝖊𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊 𝖂𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖞

George is my fav wealsey <3

"Well hello love," his grin practically splits his freckled face in two when he notices you sneaking up behind him. "Trying to scare your boyfriend eh? That's not very nice." George has to hold his laughter back at the defeated pout on your face, tapping your nose once, twice, thrice in mock scolding.

"How do you always know!" you flail your arms in exasperation, willing for the day to come where you can scare him the same way he scares you all the time. "It's not fair, you always scare me. Can't you just pretend?" Your attempt at puppy eyes breaks his resolve and turbulent laughter spills from his mouth.

With one arm, George pulls you closer to him, effectively holding you to his chest. Though you can't see the look of love on his face you can certainly feel it exuding from the way he holds you close to him. "It's just boyfriend senses, lovie, y'know that muggle film?" His hand ruffles the top of your head affectionately, though it messes up your hair.

You pull away from him, scrunching your nose as you try and flatten the top of your hair. "But you're not a spider George, you're a weasel. That's a lot less cool" Even in your false attempt to dissuade him, he laughs with you.

He lets you out of the grip holding you to his chest, interlocking his arm with yours instead as he begins to walk with you to the great hall for dinner.

"I don't know, Weasel-Man sounds cool to me"

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dearharriet · 1 year ago

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okay hello hi me again with a james potter request if u feel like it 🦌🦌 how about a drabble about reader calling james a pet name for the first time like baby or honey or something and he just melts on the spot and gives her the biggest lovesick puppy eyes ever and then begs her to always call him that and refuses to answer to james because ‘that’s baby to u!!!!!’ Or something<333 love u hope you’re well

ty for the request! <3 (wc: 495) fem!r

“It says we could use banana as a substitute for egg, did you know?”

You shuffle to James’ side as he pauses in the baking aisle, craning your neck to see his phone over the bulky shoulder blocking it.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, “I’ve seen that.”

James turns his wrinkled nose your way, a wink of amusement in his eyes.

“That cannot be good.”

Scanning the row of mixes beside the cart, you palm his side, his shirt soft and thin under your fingers.

“No, it’s kind of alright, actually.”

You blink back up at him, smiling, even when his big eyes bug even further under his glasses.

“You’ve tried it?”

Laughing, you encourage the cart forward again, and James with it.

“Can you see what we need next, please?” You croon. James’ eyes soften, and he looks back to the recipe page as he walks.

“Er, do we have baking powder?”

“Yes.”

He scrolls an inch further.

“Lemons?”

“I was thinking we’d just use that lemon juice in the fridge,” you say, shrugging.

“What?” James stops walking. “Baby, no.”

He steers the cart around, making a break for the produce section. “We are making these cupcakes right, my darling. I need all the best ingredients.”

You just laugh and trail after him. “It really won’t make a difference…”

As you catch up to him, James is hoisting a full netted pouch of lemons out of its sales basket.

“Jamie, we only need one,” you say, a bemused smile pulling at your lips. He looks to you, still holding the lemons up like a fresh catch.

“That’s quitter’s talk. We just need to make more cupcakes, s’all.”

He drops them in the cart, and then creeps toward you.

“Whatever you say, baby,” you tease.

James freezes before he can reach you. A slippery grin parts his lips, creasing around his eyes.

“What’d you call me?”

Flipping back through your words, you realize what you’ve said too late. In your mind, James and baby have been synonymous for a good few weeks now, you’ve just been trying to play it cool, and for good reason.

James will never let this go.

“I—” You huff, relenting. “Baby.”

In a split second James is around you, lemons forgotten in exchange for a snug embrace that warms your cheeks.

“James, we’re in public.”

“Who?” He asks, a grin pressed against your temple, and a strong hand between your shoulder blades.

Cushioning your chin on his chest, you look up at him. James has bigger heart eyes now than he did on your first date, which is saying a lot.

You know the two of you look painfully smitten, and that any passersby might be bothered by the PDA, but it’s hard to stifle your affection for James.

“Can you call me that more often?” He asks gently, so lovelorn that it nips your heart a little. “I really liked it.”

And how can you say no to that?

thank u for reading! xx

masterlist

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jaythes1mp · 9 months ago

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Masterlist

Jay, 20m, Aussie-South African

I make yandere content with the Batfam and Slytherin boys

Requests are open and encouraged! Platonic and Romantic yanderes welcome.

Published works:

-> Your Secrets Are Ours, Kid -> CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4, CH5, CH6, CH7, CH8, CH9, CH10,

-> Ghosts -> Oneshot.

-> Here, Kitty -> CH1, CH2, CH3,

-> Shallow -> CH1,

Other posts:

-> Robin Reader, -> Puppy Reader, -> Alternative Animal Reader, -> Professional Player Reader, -> Deer Reader, -> More on PPR, -> Plus Sized Reader -> Escapism -> Goldfish Reader -> Extra Goldfish Reader -> Bear/Elephant Reader -> Anon Scenarios -> Ponyo Reader -> Yan BatBoys 01 -> Yan BatBoys 02 → Cigarette Dog Toy w Puppy Reader -> Gender Rules ->

Related asks:

-> Your Secrets Are Ours, Kid -> 「1」「2」

-> Here, Kitty -> 「1」「2」「3」「4」「5」「6」「7」「8」「9」「10」「11」 confession 「12」

-> Shallow -> 「1」

(??) -> The Incident -> 「1」「2」

Fanart:

-> Jason holding up Cat Reader -> Cat Reader on Bruce’s shoulder -> Knocking coffee onto an important document -> Cat reader w Damian -> Cat Reader on Jason’s bike -> Sad Kitten Reader -> No context Kitten Reader -> Raccoon Reader meeting Alfred -> Anon Scenarios -> Merfolk Reader -> Cat Reader Denied Pizza -> Ponyo Reader -> Cat Reader found a gun -> Taking Cat Reader’s claws -> Cat Reader moping → Just a normal day for Cat Reader and Tim → → →

Anons: ⭐️,🪼,

Taglist questions

Everything posted on this platform is made entirely by me. A shit load of time and effort goes into every post that I make, so I’d appreciate it if it stayed on this page. I do not have any other platforms where I post this kind of work. Please don’t plagiarise my content🙏🙏

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 months ago

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February Feelings - Sirius Black X Female Reader

Title: February Feelings

Sirius Black X Female Reader

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

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

WC: 4,947

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You started it,” Lily pointed out dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sirius blinked. “You bet on us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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emeritusemeritus · 6 months ago

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hi hun, i have a story idea for you, reader and fred weasley if that's alright. reader is pregnant and is due to have her baby on new year's eve but she goes into early labour alone after an argument with fred and gives birth on christmas eve just as fred arrives to make up with her⁷

Hi Anon! Wow when I tell you this has consumed me for days, it’s taken so long to write but I just couldn’t stop! Side note, the name of Fred and Reader’s child is a name I’ve loved since I was a kid and finally got to use it in a fic where it fit perfectly. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: pregnancy and childbirth. Graphic descriptions of pain and labour but not of actual birth. Fast labour, precipitous labour. Reader has the pregnancy emotions. arguments and shouting, minor swearing. Reader hits Fred in the arm. Molly Weasley being the OG midwife. I may have some unresolved birth trauma of my own apparently. Happy ending I promise. Not beta read or spell checked.

Word count: 5.5k

Hark now hear the angels sing [Fred Weasley]

"And... that is the last one, we are officially ready for Christmas!"

You beam as you turn towards Fred, having tied the last bow on the last gift you had to wrap. You look at the pile of gifts and smile, partially because it meant that you no longer had to wrap a single other thing but mostly because it was a stack of gifts for your loved ones. You'd be going to the Burrow tomorrow for Christmas Eve to spend a big family Christmas back at the Weasley home and had made sure that not a single person would be missed in the gift exchange.

It was December 23rd and you couldn't be more excited for the holidays. It had snowed overnight making everything seem so much more magical and it would be the last Christmas as a couple before the little one arrived.

With one final proud look towards your pile, you gather the scissors and tape into the little bag to store them and tried to stand up from your place on the floor, realising quickly that it probably wasn't the best idea to wrap the gifts on the floor at 39 weeks pregnant. You wince at the sharp pain that runs down the length of your back at any form of movement and momentarily swallow your pride as you call out your husband.

"Little help?" You asked Fred who was sat on the sofa in your little home, tinkering with a string of lights that just didn't seem to want to work. He looks up and starts chuckling at your pathetic attempts at getting up and stretches his hand out for you to take. He lifts you with ease, something you're very impressed by factoring in your current size and giggle when he places a delicate kiss onto your nose. His hand wraps around your waist, his palm pressed against the curve of your belly with his thumb stroking the stretched skin through your T-shirt.

"Did we wrap anything for Fred jr?" He asks, smirking at you with those mischief filled eyes that you love so much.

"No. Mainly because there is, and will be, no such person."

"Oh come on sweetheart, don't you want a tiny little me running around?" His eyebrows jump up and down for effect, fingers still lovingly stroking your bump.

"I'm hoping for a George," you deadpan, breaking into a laugh when he suddenly pulls you gently towards him by tickling your side. "Anyway, she's a girl."

"Oh yeah? Mother's intuition?" Fred teases, his eyes gazing over your bump as if he's trying to see something that's not there, like an obvious clue of what gender your baby will be.

"Something like that," you smile, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his smiling lips.

Suddenly, you pull away from Fred with a brief push to his chest, showing your panicked face and the tears that are starting to well in your eyes, all glimmer of happiness gone.

"Princ-."

"I didn't get her anything!" You suddenly cry out, cutting Fred off as he notices the rather sudden change in your demeanour, your voice trembling as the feeling of complete grief consumes you. "What if she comes early and we didn't get her anything? She'll think that we don't love her! Or she'll think that Santa forgot her!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, your breaths coming quicker and quicker as guilt and shame fill your mind. What kind of mother doesn't buy her own baby a Christmas gift?

"Between the cot, the pram and the clothes we've bought for them, plus not to mention the entire house we bought after finding out they were on the way, I'd say they've had enough."

The glare that you shoot at Fred is enough to silence him instantly, the venomous look in your eyes rivalling his own mothers as he quickly realised this is not a time to make jokes.

"This little one isn't due until after Christmas," he says with a much gentler tone now, placing his hand back onto your bump. "They don't need a Christmas present, they'll already have everything they need when they pop out." He regrets his choice of words the second your eyes shoot up to his, knowing that 'pop' made it sound like an easy thing to do, which he'd been warned from almost every female member of his family that it was far from easy.

"When our baby's born," he says, trying again. "They'll have me and their beautiful mummy. And a whole family that loves them, what else could they need?"

Surprisingly, his words do offer comfort and a wave of relief washes over you as you feel calmed by the idea that the baby really did have everything they would need.

"Sorry," you say, feeling a fresh wave of shame taking over you at your slight overreaction, but Fred steps in again to give you a tight squeeze.

"Already the best mum," he whispers, rocking you gently as you stand holding each other, the Christmas lights illuminating the room in a magical display. You feel a little wiggle in your tummy and smile to yourself, your hand slipping down to cradle the spot where you could feel your little one stretching and rolling.

Everything was set for your arrival at the Burrow in the morning, the suitcase was packed with a mixture of your clothes and Fred's, everything down to your spare toothbrush. The gifts were wrapped and the cookies you'd baked earlier that mornings had been placed into a cute metal tin with a bow, placed on the table beside the front door so that you wouldn't forget them.

"Want me to load the car now?" Fred asks, poking his head around the bedroom door.

"I can help," you offer, only to be shut down a moment later by your husband.

"You will do not such thing," he says firmly, though his eyes are soft. "You are going to park your gorgeous little bum down onto the nearest, softest surface and rest."

"But."

"Doctor's orders princess," he winks, making you smile and relent, though you were hardly going to turn down the offer of sitting down for a while before bed, knowing you'd have an early start in the morning. Your back was twinging with discomfort, a crampy feeling radiating between your pelvis and your hips that made you curse yourself for the stupid idea of wrapping presents on a hard floor.

You walked downstairs to grab a warm drink and sit on the sofa with the hope of a warm fire and a Christmas film, stopping to peek out of the Christmas light filled window to watch Fred trying to fit all the presents in the boot of the car. Since you were so far into your pregnancy, almost every magical transportation option was now deemed unsafe, leaving you with only a handful of options for reaching the Burrow. Percy had very graciously secured a ministry car for you to borrow over the holidays, a fact that he was insistent upon repeating whenever it was even vaguely mentioned in conversation, including the precarious nature of securing the car during the ministry's busiest season. Regardless of your brother in laws self importance, you were thankful for his gesture and though the drive would be long, you were actually looking forward to it. You'd prepped snacks, both muggle and magical, had ensured to the point of obsession that the radio was fixed upon the muggle Christmas station so that your entire drive down would be filled with only the cheesiest Christmas songs and you'd even prepped some hot chocolate for the drive, placing two matching Christmas travel cups beside the kettle ready to make just before you left.

A loud crash pulled your attention right back to Fred as you watched him scrambling onto his feet, an array of once neatly wrapped packages on the floor around him. He looks around nervously before catching sight of you in the window, eyes widening, before he attempts to pick up the dropped presents.

Instantly you were moving to the door, your mind spiralling at the idea that they might be broken or wet from the snow, or if Fred was hurt in the skirmish.

"Are you okay?" You ask slightly breathlessly as you scramble to the door, trying to place your shoes on as quickly as you could.

"Sweetheart stay inside, it's icy and you're not coming out here until I can clear it," he says holding up a hand, eyes fixed on your bump as if you accentuate his words.

"What happened?" You ask, trying to steal a glance around his body to look for any damage to the presents that he was slowly picking up, stacking them high in his arms as he attempts to talk to you through a vision blocking stack of presents.

"Well I was trying to balance these ones and the bottom one slipped."

"You can't stack that many! No wonder they bloody fell!" You say, anger simmering under the surface as you watch more and more presents dangerously wobbling in his arms, swaying with the wind and from every movement he makes. "Stop stacking them so high."

"I can do it."

"Obviously you can't!" You snap, feeling the anger rising now from his obvious lack of care to the gifts that you had so painstakingly picked out and wrapped. "What if they're all broken?!"

"They're not all broken," he snarks.

"All? You mean there's broken ones?!" You exclaim, hardly able to push down your anger anymore. You and Fred hardly every argued, but when you did it was almost always a big one that lasted no more than five minutes before you were making up, sometimes longer if he was in the mood to sulk. Uncaring about the ice, you step outside and rush over to the back of the car where Fred continues to pick up the last of the presents from the ground, cringing at what follows when he picks up the very last one.

The telltale sound of damaged box fills your ears at a painfully ironic moment, the sound so obviously being something broken, shattered with the pieces rattling about inside. You gasp as you look upon the misshapen box, seeing the distinctive green wrapping paper all torn and wilted from the snow, knowing instantly what was inside, undoubtedly shattered beyond repair.

You're completely heartbroken at the sight before you and more angry with Fred than you ever remember being.

"You stupid git!" You say, hitting his arm as he turns to you with a look of apologetic shame, though you don't even remotely fall for it, too enraged to give a single thought to his feelings. "I told you that you couldn't carry that many! Now look what you've done!" The box falls from his hands again and lands in a heap on the floor, an ominous rattling crying out all the way down until it crashes upon making contact with the snow.

"It's just a present," he mumbles, trying to downplay the situation as he turns back towards the car, away from your body. His words and aversion to the situation only fuel your anger in the moment, seeing visions of his younger self so uncaring for the consequences of his actions even if it both directly and indirectly affected others.

"It's not just a present you git! It was Fleur's only Christmas present! You have no idea how long it took me to find it," you say, tears welling up in your eyes again as the anger turns to sorrow.'you knew how much she adored snow-globes, something from her childhood that she'd told you about in great detail one night at the Burrow. You'd gone searching around muggle antique stores for something within the brief and had been completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the snowglobe you found for her. It was a little over the budget but you didn't care, knowing how much she would love the beautifully ornate pink and gold filigree on the side, the tiny carousel horses inside that spun around with fine gold glitter covering the beautiful scene. It was decadent and beautiful, and now shattered in a box on your front drive, the glittery water leaking out of a large crack in the box and onto the snow.

"Just give her one of Ginny's," he says defensively, the hint of a shrug ghosting his coat-covered shoulders.

"Oh yeah perfect, because I'm sure she'd love a mug that says Mrs Potter to be!"

You march away from him in a foul mood, stomping your way back into the house as you close the door with a resounding slam, the wreath on the door quivering with the force.

It was the evening before Christmas Eve, you didn't have anything else to give her and you certainly couldn't show up empty handed for only one person, especially one that had become a good friend to you and who had admittedly struggled to fit in with the family at first. You felt wretched and suddenly wanted to stay at home, the idea of going to the Burrow now making you feel physically sick.

You winced as the pain in your back suddenly increased, making you grab ahold of the table beside the door for support as you felt it radiate through your back and settle into your pelvis.

"Look, why don't we just drop by somewhere on the way to mums? See if we can get a replacement." Fred says as he steps through the door, inevitably trailing snow throughout the hallway. You straighten up, recovering from the cramps and turn to him in disbelief, fresh annoyance consuming you again.

"It can't be replaced it was antique!"

"Well something similar then," he mumbles. You don't even fight his words, realising that he didn't have any semblance of idea of how hard you'd worked to make everything perfect for Christmas.

"You haven't even apologised," you huff, kicking off your shoes and wandering towards the kitchen, cringing at the pain that still remains in your lower back.

"What for?!" He asks, sounding mystified. "Hardly my fault I slipped, ice is icy funnily enough."

"Oh piss off Fred, you know it wasn't the ice," you spit out, reaching for a mug as you flick the kettle on again.

"I've had enough of this," he says angrily, marching right back out of the hall towards the front door that slams shut behind him. The silence that follows is almost suffocating as you stand looking at the place he stood only moments before.

The tears flowed freely now, though the gut wrenching sobs had stopped eventually. It had been around half an hour since your argument with Fred when you walked over to the door to attempt to reconcile, not wanting the stupid argument to ruin the last night in your home before tomorrows journey. It was getting late and you wanted to go to bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally and knew that stopping off somewhere tomorrow for a replacement gift for Fleur would only make your wake up call earlier. You sucked in a sharp breath when you stood up from the sofa, feeling a sharp pain shoot right up your pelvis and down your leg right to your toes, the cramping immediately resuming. You let out a few steady breaths and grabbed hold of your bump as if to help calm the pain and waddled towards the door.

When you saw that the car was no longer outside, with no sign of Fred anywhere and only tyre marks in the snow as proof, you knew instantly that he had left. Tears began to prickle at your eyes and you closed the door slowly with a weak shove, the tears coming once again. Fred had never left during an argument, had never just upped and decided to flee. You felt miserably guilty for your overreaction, even if it did seem deserved, and wished more than anything that you could just fix it and go to bed.

You went to make another cup of tea, needing the warmth and the comfort from the drink, the fire having long since died and the room feeling uncommonly chilly. A sharp pain suddenly radiated through your lower abdomen, like a crushing pain that tightened around your hips like a belt that was too small and you gasped, clutching hold of the counter as you waited for it to disappear. During your scramble to reach out for something solid to rest upon, the mug had been knocked to the side and you watched as your favourite mug tumbled to the floor, splintering at your feet into little ceramic shards.

The pain was increasing rather than disappearing and you felt the tightness all over your bump now. When it finally began to abate after a few seconds, your legs felt wobbly and you felt shaken, heart pounding and breathing unsteady as you tried to calm yourself. You barely managed to make it over to the sofa when the pain started again, radiating through your body with increasing intensity that felt like a wave slow building until it crashed upon the sand. You gripped the arm of the sofa as the apex of the pain consumed your body again, this time lasting even longer than before.

When the pain peaked, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the floor in front of the sofa, you realised with a sheer sense of panic that you were completely alone. You couldn't use the floo, couldn't apparate and now you also had no car to get you anywhere or to anyone. Your owl was delivering a message to the Burrow and still hadn't returned, clearly having flown to Wheezes instead, leaving you owl-less. You took long steady breaths when you could, relishing in the few moments of relief that came between your pains. It couldn't be labour, it just couldn't, even though logically you knew that it was more than possible as babies came when they were ready, not when you wanted them to.

You sighed when you felt another wave of pain starting in your extremities, rapidly increasing to a crushing pain around you back and in your last parts. The pain made you breathless and you could hardly believe how quickly things had escalated as you knelt on the floor trying to keep yourself calm but failing miserably in the middle of what you absolutely would not believe, but logically knew, was labour. You choked on a sob when you thought of Fred, that he'd left you at your most vulnerable time, that he'd miss the birth of your child and that you'd have to do this all alone. The plans you'd made for your birth were now completed ruined and you would no longer have the support of Molly, who had been overjoyed at being asked to support you. She was more than just your mother-in-law and after birthing seven children, there was no one else you trusted to guide you through labour. But now completely alone and trapped at home, would you survive? Women died in childbirth all the time, especially when birthing alone. What if the baby didn't survive? What if the cord was around their neck and you didn't know?

Almost like a switch had gone off in your mind, you focused on the task at hand, pushing all fear inducting thoughts out of your head and focused instead of what would be needed if you were going to do this alone. Warm towels, water, somewhere comfy for you to labour, somewhere warm and soft for the baby, baby clothes and a multitude of blankets. You looked towards the stairs and took a deep breath, trying your hardest to time yourself so that in the brief moments of reprieve you could climb the stairs to fetch what you'd need.

It took much longer than expected to collect everything you'd need, having to stop multiple times to cling onto the nearest surface and ride out the wave of pain that you could tell was getting worse and closer together. You'd barely made it down the stairs when another wave of pain hit you, making you stumble down the last step. You cried out at the searing pain that shot through you at the inadvertent step you'd taken, a lighting bolt of agony coursing through your pelvis, around your bump and settling deep in your groin. Your breath was shaky as you tried to recover from the pain but it didn't wane this time and instead focused purely in the centre of your pelvis. You notice by chance that it's past midnight now, the jingle of the little Christmas-themed muggle clock taunting you as to the announcement of a new day. Christmas Eve and you were alone, left to give birth entirely alone.

It takes everything you gave no to cry out, focusing instead on taking deep breaths and emitting a low groan as a way of vocalising your pain. You eventually make it back to the sofa, surrounded by all the things you'd need and allow yourself a little sob as you look at the equipment surrounding you, like an ominous scene of foreboding. Whatever motivation and strength you had previously momentarily slipped away and you allowed yourself to cry, both for the unrelenting pain and for your heartbreaking situation.

You let out another cry when a pain much stronger and more direct than before hits you full on, a crushing feeling from the inside that makes you feel lightheaded. You scramble to look down when you suddenly feel something wet beneath you, bringing your hand up to your legs to try and decipher what had caused it. You fight through another pain to pry off your wet bottoms and cast them aside, praying that you don't see any blood between your thighs. It's clear, the liquid that drips down your thighs, small sudden gushes turning to small drops as you battle to get a towel underneath you.

You're on all fours again, trying your hardest to take stabilising breaths when you hear the sound of the front door open.

"Fred!" You cry out in hope and desperation, the wail that falls from your lips an accumulation of the physical and emotional pain. It's the scream that you had wanted so desperately to let out as your body burns internally.

He's beside you in seconds and couldn't have been quicker if he'd apparated between the door and the living room. Your head falls forward as another contraction takes over, the sudden need to push consuming every instinct within you.

"I'm here sweetheart, I'm here it's okay," he coos, his hand instinctively reaching for your lower back as you circle your hips, trying desperately to bring relief.

You look up into his eyes and can see that he looks completely torn, eyes washing over your form as his mind whirls trying to formulate a plan. He looks completely overwhelmed under the surface, as much as he's pretending to be calm, panicked by the sudden chance in circumstances.

"Look sweetheart, I need to fetch mum, I'll be back in five minutes tops, I'll apparate right there and right back, can you handle that?"

He barely gets the words out before you scramble to reach out for him, clutching the bottom of his shirt desperately as you cringe from the movement of your torso.

"No please Freddie, please don't leave me alone again," you beg, already crying from the thought alone as you cling into him, tears streaming down your face. You're terrified of being alone again, desperate for him to stay by your side. You're scared and in pain, unable to think clearly.

"I won't leave," he says with a nod, trying to calm you, his brows knitting together as he tries to think of a backup. It's too late to drive you to St Mungo's and there's no way to side along apparate with you safely, especially now that labour had begun.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls out his wand to cast his patronus, watching with a dwindling sense of hope that it would reach its destination quickly.

He pockets his wand again and turns his full attention back to you, trying to push some pressure into your back to relieve the pain in anyway he can, gently reminding you to take slow and deep breaths. There's so much that he needs to say to you, to apologise for, but that can wait until later, knowing that his focus had to be on you right now.

"Fred I need to push," you say with staggered breaths, a thin sheet of sweat covering your forehead.

"I know sweetheart, just a couple more minutes okay?" He says, still squatting down beside you. He prays to Merlin and to anyone else that might be listening for this to go well, for his patronus to have worked and failing that, for it to be an easy birth. He wasn't prepared for this, just a prankster turned businessman that had no knowledge of women's bodies beyond putting the baby there... getting it out was a completely different matter.

"That's it sweetheart, you are doing so well, I'm so proud of you," he says, pushing back your hair that had stuck to your sweaty head, reaching for one of the little hand towels towels and enchanting it so that it was wet and cool before rubbing it softly over your forehead. You moan out and he hardly knows if it's because of the cooling sensation or because of the pain, but when you pull his washcloth holding hand back up to your forehead, he's pretty sure he has an idea.

"You are so strong princess, you're doing so well," he coos, trying his hardest to support you in your time of need. Truthfully, he was baffled how your body was doing this. You looked like you were in excruciating pain but yet you still carried on for the sake of the baby, your strength and resilience astounding him.

He jolts when he hears the telltale roar of flames in the fireplace and his heart leaps at the thought, had his patronus worked?

"Where is my, oh my dear!" Molly Weasley steps out of the floo induced flames of their fireplace and directly into the living room, giving herself a good shake as she spots her daughter in law on all fours in obvious labour. She pulls out her wand and casts a spell over herself that cleans off any sign of fireplace soot, then blasts the fireplace so that the regular flames resume to heat the home.

"Oh my dear," she rushes over, moving to kneel beside her daughter in law whose face scrunched up in pain, a silent scream of anguish falling from her lips.

"You should have got me sooner!" She points an accusing finger at her son who looks equal parts guilty and mortified as she strikes your hair out of your face, her eyes flicking between concern and anger between the two of you.

"I... I told him it wouldn't be yet," you stammer, hardly able to form the words. "I need to push!"

"Fred make yourself useful! Just like your father sat idly about, fetch some more towels and pillows from the bed, honestly you men." Molly surges into caring mode and for once Fred does exactly as she says without any backchat or hesitation. Her very presence is reassuring to you and you feel instantly calmed just by having her by your side.

"Well I have to say it, you do make beautiful babies," Molly coos as she looks at the three of you huddled together on the bed. Fred looks tired but peaceful, his arm wrapped protectively around you as your new baby stays latched on to your breast, bundled in soft blankets that her grandma had knitted especially for her. You're exhausted but overwhelmingly happy, and perhaps a little bit shocked by how quickly everything had progressed throughout the day and night.

"Right I'm off, as long as you're all okay? Oh I can't wait to tell your father he'll be overjoyed! I'm only an owl away if you need anything and I mean that, yes?"

"Thank you, for allowing me to experience this. I have a feeling this little one will be my favourite yet," Molly smiles as she leans down to glide her fingers across the little one's cheek lovingly. She looks up to you and smiles warmly, leaning down to give you a kiss on top of your head. "And very well done dear, you did brilliantly."

Fred walks his mother out, knowing that she had never liked apparating and would be using the floo to get home. You can hear their voices as they go downstairs but you can't hear what's being said and you look down at the cooing baby in your arms, watching her closed eyes and quick but steady breaths. She really is perfect, her little button nose, long lashes and tuft of distinctive red hair that was currently hidden beneath her little hat. 10 fingers, 10 toes and a striking resemblance to her dad that after the intense labour you'd just endured felt like a hilarous but tiny smack in the face.

When Fred returns, he's beaming. He pauses, leaning against the doorframe as he looks at the sight before him, his girls.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" He asks, gently climbing onto the bed beside you.

"Exhausted," you say with a laugh, trying hard not to jiggle the little one too much with your laughter. "But I'm happy."

"Me too. Here, let me take her so you can get some rest."

You want to protest but you're worried your eyes will close at any second even though you're trying your hardest to keep them open, your body just too exhausted. You hand Fred the sleeping baby, passing her over gently like she could shatter at any moment from being so fragile and within moments of your head touching the pillow, you're out like a light.

"Wait till you meet your uncle George, and auntie Ginny, and uncle Percy, and Ron, and Charlie and Bill... there's a lot of them to remember I know, but it's mainly uncle George and Auntie Angelina you have to remember kid. Don't even get me started on the others, aunt Hermione, uncle Harry, auntie Fleur and then there's your granny and grandad."

"Trying to bore her back to sleep with your family tree?" You smile, noticing Fred and your little girl cuddled together in the little armchair in the corner next to her bassinet. He huffs a laugh, turning to you with so much adoration in his eyes that it momentarily leaves you breathless.

"Just getting her up to speed," he smirks, reaching down with his hand to grab her hand gently, "you going to say good morning to your beautiful mummy?" He gently manipulated her hand so that she gives you a little wave and you laugh, sitting up in bed with a slight wince.

"So I guess Fred Jr is off the table now eh?" He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he stands up from the chair, bringing your daughter over to you, her face a perfect picture of contentment.

"It was never on the table," you say with a smirk, greedily reaching for your daughter.

"Well you surprised us little one," Fred says to his daughter as she begins to stir. "Thought we'd be naming you something new yearsey, but you're a little Christmas Angel."

As if the concept of time and days had just returned to you, you realise that your daughter was born on Christmas Eve, your own little Christmas miracle.

"Holly?" Fred suggests, your nose scrunching up at the suggestion, not liking how obvious it was.

"What about Evangeline?" You ask, looking down at the sweet face, trying to weight up what name suited her the most. "Nickname Eve or Evie?"

"Evangeline Weasley..." Fred muses, as if trying it out for himself, "I love it." He beams, as if the missing puzzle piece has just slotted in to place.

"Merry Christmas little Evangeline," he coos, watching as she yawns, her eyes opening with a little squint as if by some miracle, answering to her name. Fred kisses you and you're happier than you've felt in a long time, the heartbreak of yesterday long forgotten and forgiven as you celebrate your first Christmas together as a family of 3.

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ambitiouspotions · 5 months ago

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Could you write a oneshot about a very first kiss between y/n and george weasley, please?💌

LONG AWAITED | GEORGE WEASLEY | ONESHOT REQUEST

summary — in which george f. weasley and y/n’s first kiss finally takes place

word count — 1.1k

warnings — none, fluff!

author’s note — seventh-year students, no house mentioned for reader! thank you for your request! i hope you enjoy!

the start of seventh year, after a long, excruciating, and painfully hot and boring summer, you were waiting to board the train. your mother was snapping away at pictures as you tried to rush her, wanting to meet your group of friends you already saw go past. though the next thing to catch your attention through the spotty speckles the camera flash caused was george weasley looking at you longingly as your mother took the photos. his gaze was so taken by you that the first letter he opened during breakfast the next day was from his mother urging him to tell her who you were, though that was complicated. how does one explain to their mother that the girl they were staring at was merely a friend, no, a schoolmate at most?

you only spent time with him in previous years was when walking to hogsmeade, sitting in the courtyard, passing each other on the way to class, watching him during quidditch matches, stealing glances, and none of that was even spending time with him if his twin brother was right next to him as well. and that time he grabbed your hand when asking if you were alright after fred accidentally sent a textbook flying into your face in the library; that was merely just his more sensitive side showing, not because he liked you. well, maybe, he did like you.

you constantly caught him staring, but if you caught him staring, wouldn’t that mean you wanted to look at him, too? no, he must have been looking elsewhere; there was only one logical explanation: you were overthinking the situation like always. if george liked you he would’ve said something because the twins always tended to never shut their mouths.

and you thought george was cute, but who didn’t? that ginger hair was clipped now, after being a shaggy mop the year before, and had definitely somehow gotten just a little bit taller. your mind paused for a moment.

no, the even the shaggy hair was cute.

stop, stop, bring it in.

wait, how had you noticed he had even gotten taller? you didn’t pay that much attention to him.

yes, you did stop denying it.

you noticed that the hem of his school jumpers had been pulling up more than they normally had, revealing a bit of his stomach each time he raised his arms because he never tucked in his white school shirt like he was supposed to.

the staring at the train station wasn’t the only occurrence this year that made you question your sanity. it was the way you felt when your thigh was pressed up against his while at the three broomsticks in the cramped booth with friends. forced proximity or whatever the romance writers called it in their cheesy stories. then, the instance when fred had forgotten his coat on a windy december day when you all planned to eat lunch outdoors rather than in the great hall. you and george walked in silence, but it seemed like you didn’t need words when working out a comfortable area to sit. it seemed like george was going to say something when he finally relaxed, but that was when fred returned. finally, at the end of january, fred struck up a conversation with you as you were waiting outside of defense against the dark arts class. he had mentioned that the loosened tie around your neck was going to make george swoon if he saw you. you could’ve sworn the moment george sauntered up he had a bit of blush on his cheeks when he saw you.

now, in the present moment, mid-march to be more exact, you were staring into his brown eyes, like it was a color you had never laid your eyes on before. he was holding you close under an awning; the rain was pelting, the wind occasionally bringing the droplets onto you until he noticed and turned your bodies in the opposite direction. his quidditch uniform could take the beating from the rain rather than your soaked wool sweater and pleated skirt. the gryffindor quidditch team had taken another successful win in a rainstorm. your hair was a stringy mess, and the tips of your fingers stung the slightest bit when you tried to curl them from the cold flurries of wind. the only reason you stayed behind in the awful weather was because you saw him alone, waiting outside of the pitch waiting for the rain to die down for only a moment. all the other students were running from the pitch to find shelter at the castle. then there was a moment of peace, no one was here to ruin this one moment that assured you that you were not going mad or overthinking or even overreacting to the scenarios you had been involved in with him before. this was a satisfying ending to an insecure mind.

george had an initial hesitation, resting his forehead on yours before initiating the kiss. worried that you might not have wanted the same thing. you could see his inner conflict, it was one you knew all too well. the same conflict you struggled with from your sixth year until now. it was the confusion and second-guessing ruling your life that made the kiss so much sweeter. your eyes instinctively closed as he leaned in closer.

your hands were grasping the wet fabric of his maroon robe and one of his hands rested on your hip while the other was holding your lower back to keep you close to him. your lips moved in unison and with his. you savored every second of the thoughtful and intimate gesture. the soothing splatter of the rain creating an unknowingly beautiful atmosphere for the two to share a kiss.

you pulled back breathless, your eyes still closed. your breath just lingering over his lips as he exhaled. within a second you were meeting his lips again and standing a little straighter, having a bit more courage than the time before and taking in the surrounding factors this time. the first kiss was otherworldly, but being able to remember every detail of the second was somehow even more satisfying. george smelled of the earthy rain, the scent of sweat from his match was long washed away. you could feel where his fingerless gloves ended and his fingers began on your hip.

“dear merlin,” george mumbled, pulling away this time. his eyes were wide with delight. your grip loosened on his clothed chest. your face was flushed and he looked to the rain fading to a soft drizzle. with his arm around you, you made your way back to the castle.

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megwritesriddles · 4 months ago

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hiii girlyfriend! i saw you were taking requests and was waiting if you’d consider doing a little drabble where it’s both your and neville’s first time and he’s way more nervous than you so you start to praise him to make him more comfortable and be ends up surprising both of you by being really into it

a nsfw alphabet for neville

thanks and ily! i reread both your neville fics like all the time they’re sooo good!

MDNI 18+

thank you sm for this request and for your comments about my work :')!!! I chose to do the NSFW alphabet because I've always kind of wanted to do one. I did incorporate the praise a little (because Nev is definitely a praise kink kind of guy). I hope you like it!!

word count: 2.2k (i told you i might get carried away)

warning: smut obviously, brief mentions of periods

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Neville is the biggest sweetie ofc. He makes sure to wipe you clean with a warm damp cloth, being extra gentle around where you’re sensitive. He’ll make sure you have water to drink and fetch you some food if you say you’re hungry (I can just imagine him humming to himself as he slices up an apple for you). And ofc loads of cuddles, which is just as much for him as it is for you, he tucks you against his chest and breathes you in, making sure to whisper all sorts of sweet words.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His - I honestly don’t know, I think whatever part of his body you say you like best, he will like best because you like it. I might say hands if he had to choose, I think he loves to touch you and hold hands with you and also gardening which requires a lot of steady hand work. But if you say you like something else best, then he’s highly suggestible to it.

Yours - Your eyes. He’s a romantic, he loves the way you look at him, the way they light up when you spot him across the room. And of course, the way they darken seductively when you want him, the way they flutter closed when he hits just that right spot deep inside you. He could stare into your eyes forever, picking out all the flecks of colour, the way your pupils shrink and dilate.

Ass or boobs? - I want to say ass (because I have way more ass than boobs lol) but something tells me deep down it’s boobs. But he doesn’t care what size they are, huge or barely there; he loves them. He also definitely does admire your ass too, he’s a big fan of both, but leans toward tits. I can see him loving thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he’s pretty tidy with his cum, he likes to cum inside (condom or not). I don’t see him as the type to splatter your face or tits or anything. If he doesn’t come inside you, it’s either on his own belly or in his pants (when you’re being particularly teasing or he gets too into eating you out).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He just wants to be your good boy. He comes instantly when you first say it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

…. It’s Neville, let’s be real here. I mean, depending on when you meet him, I don’t think he’d be a virgin until like 40 but he’s definitely a super late bloomer in terms of sex, so probably a virgin or only has a body count of 1 when you meet him. He isn’t the type to sleep around, he has to really trust someone he sleeps with. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’s a super eager learner, not afraid to ask for guidance until he’s a god at pleasing you. Memorises your body which makes him better at it than someone who has lots of experience with various people, it’s a personalised experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s a classic romantic and loves to look into your eyes as you have sex, so missionary is a fave. Cowgirl with you facing him is his ultimate favourite, he loves looking up into your eyes, embracing as you give into pleasure together, you being able to set the pace.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious but in a sweet way. If you make a joke he’ll laugh, but he’s unlikely to crack his own. He likes to whisper sweet loving confessions, so he stays serious, but once it’s over, he might be a little more goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He probably didn’t see any reason to shave or anything before the two of you started having regular sex. I can see him trimming intermittently, not for aesthetics but practicality. He’s a real man and doesn’t care about you having a bush, he prefers if you trim a little bit but it won’t stop him going down on you. I think he’d find it odd if you were completely hairless tbh. As long as you keep mostly clean he’s happy to brave the bush. (I feel like there’s a funnier expression for this but it’s not coming to me)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a romantic sweetheart. He’s constantly praising and complimenting you, his arms wrapped around you in an affectionate embrace or his fingers intertwined with yours. He loves kissing from your forehead, down your temple and cheek and finally to your mouth as he slowly presses in and out of you. I think he’s quite slow and gentle as a general rule, liking to take his time with you, only getting a little frantic right before he comes. Kisses literally everywhere, all over your body, gentle and lingering. Eye contact is big for him as I said before, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I can’t see him masturbating all that much, even before he met you. That’s not to say he wasn’t experiencing attraction or arousal, I think he’s just more horny for the emotional element (??? if that makes sense). I don’t think he’ll masturbate when you’re apart, just leaving it so he can feel even better when he finally sees you again. Before he met you I would say he got off once a week, letting most of his boners die in a cold shower or just with time (again it made it better when he finally gave in), especially during his Hogwarts years when he was sharing a dorm. He was more considerate than any of his dormmates.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging, praise (both of you receiving), a teeny bit of degradation (calling him pathetic or needy, nothing too harsh), being called a good boy, lowkey being bound by the vines of some magical plant as you use him to your liking (you didn’t hear this from me, this is only when he’s feeling particularly dirty, it isn’t on his mind most days)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s not one for exhibitionism so almost definitely just the bed, he quite likes using the sofa when he gets his own place but other than that he might occasionally do it in the shower, but he’s not a huge fan of it. He’s all about comfort so a plush surface in private is ideal.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, plain and simple. When you give him a seductive look, when you praise him (even for something innocuous and unsexy), when you lean over and accidentally push your tits together or your ass out, they way you play with your hair, the way you bite your lip when you focus, when you use that soft sighing voice.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I can never see him being mean or rough. That’s not to say he’s always 100% slow and careful, he loses himself to the feeling sometimes, but generally he’s a gentle guy and it would break his heart to insult you (eg. whore or slut). He’s also not one for slapping or spanking I don’t think, maybe a soft swat on your ass, but nothing harsh enough to leave a bruise. Sorry to some of y’all, I don’t make the rules, he’s a sweetie.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ooooh he’s a munch I just know it. He loves to pleasure you and he loves the taste of you. He could go down on you for hours (if only his jaw would cooperate). He adores the praise he gets, your hand in his hair, your beautiful moans, eyes squeezing shut, thighs around his head.

He quite enjoys receiving as well, it feels really good to be at your mercy. He’s quite whiney and sensitive, his hand gently tangling in your hair, but never pushing or pulling. The sinful way you look up at him as your lips are wrapped around him, it drives him crazy.

As I said before, at first he barely knows what he’s doing but he’s constantly asking for guidance until he can get it right. It’s second nature to him now, he could make you cum from it in under two minutes if he liked, but he enjoys drawing it out for both of your pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He really likes to take his time so he isn’t the biggest fan but he’s more than down if it’s the only option. Not that often as he would only do it if there was no other choice, often what starts meaning to be quick gets significantly stretched out. You’ve learned the hard way not to proposition him in the morning on working days, but for lazy Sunday mornings, he’s absolutely perfect.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experiment a little, sure. He’s down to try most things if you’re into them (other than what I specified in No) but his preferences are reasonably vanilla. As long as he’s with you, he can enjoy it either way. You would probably have sex in a risky location once or twice and he would be so anxious about being caught that you wouldn’t do it again. However, if the danger is only being overheard, he doesn’t mind so much, happy to kiss you to keep the both of you quiet. It’s being seen that worries him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can probably come twice in a night with a reasonable cool down period, however, since he’s good at pacing himself and pleasuring you with other means, he can give you many rounds. Your sex usually lasts a long time. The first few times though, he absolutely comes prematurely.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I can’t see him being a toy person, but I think he’d be completely cool if you had a vibrator for when he’s away. Some guys get weird and jealous about toys, but he just wants you to be happy while he’s not there to take care of it. If you want him to use the vibrator on you while you have sex, he will.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease much, but when he does, he’s surprisingly suave and smug. It always makes you fold as it’s so rare. He loves being teased by you, having you flirting brazenly, sitting in his lap, brushing your hands up his arms, whispering dirty things, showing off your body, giving sultry looks. He adores it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man whimpers as I’m sure we all know by now. I don’t think he’s too loud, but it almost makes the little groans and whimpers he makes hotter as they’re all low and quiet, private just for you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he’d be quite willing to have period sex. He likes to help relieve your cramps by helping you orgasm and doesn’t see why he should be disgusted by something your body naturally does, so long as he washes up well afterwards. I don’t think he’d go down on you, but sex and maybe some fingering is still on the table. Of course, he only does this if you ask, he never approaches you for sex on your period, letting you come to him if you need him. He doesn’t want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable, even if the way he usually approaches you for sex is already very sweet and without pressure.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We all know that he’s hung, this is just an accepted truth in the fandom. He’s a little longer than average and definitely thicker, he probably has a slight curve. He’s also more buff than you’d think under his sweaters and cardigans.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think he’s highly suggestible with his sex drive. On his own it’s fairly low (once a week as I said before), but with you it’s a lot higher. He’s quite in tune with your moods, and is easily seduced if you’re in the mood, so when you’re ovulating, his drive is higher too because you’re glowing and you keep giving him these damn looks. When you’re less aroused, so is he, but he barely ever says no when you offer. He approaches you first about sex maybe once to three times a week, the rest of it is up to you to initiate.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think he definitely does get sleepy, but fights it off to be able to take care of you. The second you say you’re fine and don’t need anything else, he’s embracing you and dozing off. It’s another reason he dislikes public stuff or doing things on uncomfy surfaces, he gets very dozy afterwards.

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honeycaksy · 4 months ago

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...could I..could I ask for like... Sirius and Harry, or baby Harry with padfoot ...no pressure, you don't have to draw this

STOP THE IDEA IS SO CUUUUUTEEEEE

Here Sirius and…baby Harry 😔🤲

Imma do a petition to let Sirius enjoy his godfatherhood in peace okay AS HE SHOULD

Let’s pretend it’s James who took the picture

#harry potter #harry james potter #sirius black #sirius orion black #marauders #marauders era #ask #digital art #doodle #hp #fanart #marauders fanart #request

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yasministration · 2 years ago

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hi please could i request something with ron where he has a seggs dream about you and wakes up h3rd with you cuddling him. thank you <3

So it seems I wasn't lying and I really am in my ron era. But who am I to complaint honestly.

Warnings: sexually explicit, smut, fluff in the end kind of, embarrassed ron. creations of the dirty teen boy mind, semi public sex. reader described as having long hair in dream 0.9k words

Ron laid flat on his back as your naked, sweaty body bounced up and down on his hard cock. You shone with sweat and your head was thrown back, letting your long hair perfectly run down your back in flawless ripples. Your tits bounced up with every move you made, and Ron reached up to squeeze them with both his hands. Both of you moaned in pleasure when Ron's cock hit your g-spot, causing your pussy to squeeze tightly around his thick length.

You brought both your hands down onto your boyfriend's abdomen, where you felt his muscles flex under his skin, and he let out a whimper, bringing both his hands up to grip your hips tight enough to leave marks.

You sped up your pace and Ron dug his head deep into the pillow behind him, and you felt his nails dig into your skin. His hips jerked up into yours frantically and just as he was about to let his load out into you - his eyes fluttered open.

Ron's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, and your body was pressed against his in a spooning position. Ron immediately groaned in disappointment and discomfort when he realised that it was all a dream and that he was still hard as a rock. He unwraps his arms from your waist and tries wiggling away from you to create space between you, but you instantly flip around onto your stomach, throwing a leg over Ron's hip, while cuddling deeper into his chest.

He suppresses a moan, because despite the illusion of privacy you got from the curtains pulled around Ron's four poster bed, his four other dorm mates were probably still in their respectful beds, sleeping. Ron froze. He had no idea what to do from there. His mind races while he tries to make up his mind; should he go to the bathroom and get himself off or take care of himself right next to you. He didn't think twice, reaching into his sweatpants to free his hard-on.

Once he's shimmied his sweatpants and briefs down his thighs, he starts to relieve himself. He groans and bring his knuckles between his teeth as he tries to control his slow movements, intently staring at the way your legs are slightly spread for him. Your legs and panties are exposed, the t-shirt you borrowed from Ron riding all the way up past your hips, allowing Ron a perfect view of your panty-clad cunt. His movements start to speed up, but he goes still as soon as soon as he hears a quiet "Ron?"

Your eyes are fluttering open, and your head is tilted at just the right angle that you get a perfect view of his hand tightly wrapped around his leaking cock. You blink a couple of times, allowing yourself to adjust to the rather sudden change of sleeping, to seeing your boyfriend jerking off. You look up with raised eyebrows at your boyfriend's face, which has suddenly gone all red, and can't help but giggle slightly.

You reach down to replace his hand and mutter to him "Here, let me take care of you", and he does. The hand previously on his cock reaches up under his your shirt to grip your waist and his second arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to him as if it would suppress him moans. Ron bites his lip and throws his head back, grunting quietly and you put a hand on his abdomen as if it would help, but it only causes Ron to desperately whine.

"Ron." You say again, but only this time it's in a warning tone, and Ron tries stifling the noises he makes by biting your shoulder. You gasp quietly and increase the pace on Ron's dick. A harsh tug on your hair makes you look up at him only for Ron to slam his lips onto yours. You feel the muscles in his lower stomach contracting which never fail to tell you he's close and bring that hand down to focus on his red tip. This has his hips frantically humping up into your hand as he releases onto the sheets and pretty much everywhere else.

Once he's ridden out his orgasm and is safe from releasing any other inappropriate sounds, he breaks the kiss. He's red in the face and his chest heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath, but a shy smile still finds itself on his face, and he tries to hide his embarrassment by burying his face into your chest. You giggle, both your hands starting to play with his ginger hair, the unspoken question floating in the air.

"I had a dream." He finally admits and you look down at him, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. His arms wrap around your torso once more and he rolls onto his stomach, and you move so he's now resting between your legs, his head laying on your stomach as you play with his hair. "Well you might just have to have those more often"

"No you won't!" A voice interrupts, which you recognise as Harry's, essentially ruining the moment. Ron's face flushes again and he groans, even as you laugh in shock.

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crescentofthegods · 4 months ago

Text

ALL TOO FAMILIAR!

pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

request: cormac gets a little too touchy, but harry finds you just in time.

word count: 2,084

warnings: FLUFF, angsty bc cormac is a DOUCHE, cormac being weird creepy touchy etc, few swear words, not proofread!!, (lowkey suck at warnings pls tell me if i've missed anything)

author's note: OH MY GOODNESSSSS i haven't uploaded anything for like two years straight i sincerely apologise to all of my followers please forgive me. i also apologise to the anon who sent me this request bc i took so long to freaking answer it😭😭😭 feel like this is RUBBISH but i hope you all enjoy! xx

taglist: @floweringrott ♡

more harry potter | masterlist | navigation

THE GREAT LIBRARY had always been a solace to those who required it. Especially to you, who found comfort in the smell of parchment since Hogwarts’ supply seemed to always be fresh. The quiet lull of the area managed to put you in a state of peace too, the way everyone’s voices resounded to whispers and murmurs rather than loud babbles of laughter. There was nothing wrong with laughing, of course—it just happened to be distracting. You were actually waiting for someone, both of you having the intention to study. In front of you was your Potions revision; you were simply making notes on Everlasting Elixirs, taking your ideas from your copy of Advanced Potion Making. Crumbs of strawberry cheesecake lingered on your tongue since you had come straight from lunch, eager to get these done for Slughorn so you could finally rest. Your fingers were clasped around your favourite quill, your spare hand keeping your parchment still as you quickly wrote down every thought your mind was firing at you—

“There you are!” a voice snapped you out of your reverie, your body going slightly rigid, reluctantly lifting your gaze to see the last person you wanted to converse with. “I’ve been looking all over for you…”

He never gets the hint, McLaggen. Always stalking following you, always standing outside every room you exit, always loitering too close whenever you’re trying to get back to your House—never taking no for an answer. Everyone knew you as the quiet girl, rarely taking part in things like extracurriculars or school clubs. For the life of you, you could not figure out why Cormac had suddenly become… interested.

You kept to yourself just because it was a personal preference, you barely had any friends—you were a loner.

And that was how you liked it. Being a people person had never been your thing entirely.

But, Cormac didn’t seem to get that.

“Really?” you replied, your tone almost resembling the bored purrs of your very own tabby cat, who was probably lounging around in your dorm, messing up your pillows…

How you wished you could be in her position right now.

“Yeah…? You sound so unsurprised,” he bit his bottom lip, the light of his green eyes dimming when he noticed how quickly you stood up. You almost felt bad… Though, you remembered the way he disgustingly pursued Hermione Granger a few moons back and, fleetingly, shook all feelings of regret from your body; Cormac McLaggen was a creep.

“Haha, right…” A half-assed chuckle escaped you, clearing your throat as you shoved the remnants of your work into the new satchel messenger bag you bought before beginning sixth year. Discerning the dire, hardened gaze of Cormac falling upon you never failed to make you shudder inside; his eyes were always so intense. So scrutinising. So… unnecessary?

“So, uh… Potions,” Cormac began, attempting to look unbothered at the sight of you slinging your bag off your shoulder. “Wait—are you leaving already?” A sigh stumbled from your lips, your fingers moving to tuck the shorter strands (the ones that fell from your ponytail) behind the broad space of your ear, praying to Merlin himself for an escape route.

“Yeah, um, my cat—well, she…” Kill me now. “She’s… alone in my room,” you tried to explain, pushing your chair under the desk you sit at on a regular basis, refusing to even glance Cormac’s way. “And she probably misses me—” His scoff interrupted you, your eyes flitting towards his expression, seeing the smugness in his bemused smile—what the fuck?

“Your old, moody cat, the one that slumps around every window seat she can find, misses you?” Cormac laughed, his hand cradling his chest like he found himself funny. “This is the first time I’ve heard an excuse like that.” All you did was furrow your eyebrows, confused as to what he was implying.

“Are you… insulting my cat?” You asked, genuinely perturbed because of his peculiar behaviour. Perhaps you were being a little peculiar yourself, but was this Cormac’s way of flirting? It made no sense whatsoever. Anyhow, your words seemed to knock some sense into the Gryffindor, regret latching onto his countenance. You were quick to turn away, murmuring an almost noiseless ‘excuse me’, speeding walking out of the library like nothing had happened.

Legs moving as fast as they could, Cormac was right after you—he, annoyingly, had quite the Beater’s build.

“Wait! I’m sorry—I wasn’t insulting your bloody cat!” He always seemed to persist, much to your misfortune; Merlin, he was thick in the head. When you turned your head back around, you almost tripped, unable to comprehend how he caught up to you in seconds. “I-I was just saying that your excuse for leaving was rubbish—”

“I’m just busy, alright, McLaggen?” you brushed him off, trying to muster up a polite smile, but it vanished from your face immediately when Cormac grabbed your arm, roughly pulling you back—a spasm of pain shot up your arm and whilst it only lasted for a moment, it still caused you to freeze, the light in your eyes disappearing entirely.

The light in his brightened.

“You don’t seem busy,” Cormac mumbled, his digits firm and enclosed around your flesh like a vice, your gaze lifting to his once again. Why were you always looking up? It made you feel… wrong. Like you were submitting yourself to him. McLaggen.

He would like that, wouldn’t he?

“McLaggen,” you said his name, your voice quiet; an eerie sort of quiet. He didn’t say anything, studying you for a moment. Suddenly, you wanted the laughter of those pestering first years, the bellows of the fourth year boys, the giggles of the third year girls to wrap around you like a blanket—you would prefer any sort of noise over the gratingly abnormal silence wafting over the empty hallway.

The one time I don’t want to be alone.

“You’re still calling me McLaggen? I thought we were way past formalities,” he uttered (moreso questioned), the Gryffindor’s expression changing to one of irritance, his jaw ticking as he tried to maintain his smile. He looked like he was about to barf all over his new fancy boots his father got him.

Whatever his father’s name was.

“Uh… No,” you retorted quite bluntly, irritation overwhelming your expression in response. Who did he think he was? “Now, if you could please let go—”

“I don’t understand what the problem is, though,” he interjected, again, his perplexity at the situation making you want to explode as you opened your mouth to speak, but Cormac was faster. “I just want to talk. We’re having a conversation and you just walk away?” His grip tightened minutely, but it was enough to make you wince, pain submerging your irritation away.

“Ow—Cormac, you’re hurting me,” you struggled to remain confident, feeling a sense of dread engulfing your body, your mind, your soul.

This position was all too familiar. That same thundercloud hovering over your heart, waiting to strike where it hurt the most. Even though it was protected by your lungs, your ribs, your flesh—the thunderclaps were enough to compel the chambers of your core to quake.

“Oh, don’t be daft,” he mumbled, rejecting your plea. “You’ll live.”

“Listen, we can talk, but can you just let go—”

“She said let go.”

An abrupt, deep voice broke the uncomfortable tension between you and Cormac, his grasp loosening perceptibly since he was caught. Inhaling sharply, you took your chance to rip your arm away from him completely, stepping back, rubbing your arm as your eyes stayed downcast.

Calm down, calm down, calm down—

“Potter.” What? Hearing Cormac’s one-word mutter led you to look towards the source of the original voice, your eyebrows crinkling in relief when you saw him.

Harry.

You were supposed to meet someone in the library… That someone was Harry. During the course of the year, you had been struggling to keep up with Slughorn’s lessons and Harry, kind as always, offered to help you (you didn’t know about his little cheat notes from the Half-Blood Prince and he intended to keep it that way). However, you had left early because of Cormac… prompting Harry to go look for you.

“Thank Merlin,” you breathed, your lips pressing together when Cormac turned towards him.

“We were just talking,” he ‘clarified’, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Didn’t look like it,” Harry said simply, and you took this moment to actually examine your friend. He was still in his school robes, of course, the infamous Gryffindor crest plastered upon it. His glasses rested on the crook of his nose, his blue eyes unblinking, fixed on Cormac. Jaw clenched, as was his fists. Lips pressed together in annoyance, unlike yours which were pressed together in embarrassment.

Embarrassed because you couldn’t believe Harry had found you in this position—unable to fight back.

You could’ve sworn there was a glint of murderous intent within the emerald hues of his eyes; even from a distance, you noticed everything about Harry.

“Well, we were,” Cormac stated in his matter-of-fact tone, angering you further—but, Harry had it covered. It genuinely baffled you that they were both in the same House.

“Oh, just—come off it,” Harry scoffed, pushing past him to get to you—he had been the person you wanted to see at the Great Library.

Not Cormac McLaggen, but Harry Potter.

But, why? Even now, as he approached you, you felt those thunderclouds morph into wisps of the sun, warmth blooming in your chest as his fingers delicately brushed over your arm, specifically the bit where Cormac had grabbed you so roughly. For some reason, Harry’s touch didn’t disgust you like Cormac’s did.

It was because he was your friend… right? You didn’t know Cormac like you knew Harry.

You didn’t know anyone like you knew Harry.

“You alright?” He asked softly, his tone changing so he didn’t frighten you further; you weren’t frightened per se, but he knew situations like this made you uncomfortable. Conflict. Arguments. Loud voices…

All too familiar.

“Fine,” you murmured in return, grateful for how the pads of his fingers massaged your flesh, the pain which had formerly bloomed now beginning to dissipate. Lowering your gaze, Harry turned his head to see if Cormac was still standing there like a fool.

Thankfully, the creep took one look at Harry’s six-foot-form and fled the scene, probably wanting to maintain his golden boy reputation. He may have been taller, but Harry—

Everyone knew what Harry was. Who he was.

A few moments passed. Both of you just stood in the vacant hallway, your expressions paired with… serenity. You preferred silence. As did Harry, especially with the Dark Lord penetrating his mind every damned hour. You didn’t know when you developed this dynamic with him out of all people—others, girls to be precise, would wonder how you ‘bagged’ the Chosen One, how you managed to get him to pay attention to you.

But, that was the thing. You didn’t do anything.

“We were supposed to meet at the library,” Harry spoke, his voice synonymous with the stillness of the atmosphere, his lovely eyes trying to meet yours.

Eventually, your eyes left the floor, trailing up his uniform—his broad chest; the Adam’s apple of his throat; the sharp contour of his jawline; his rosy-coloured, heart-shaped lips; his hawk nose—and then, finding his two orbs. They reminded you of the sea, his eyes. His black pupils were like jagged basalts, a form of rock, fixed within a circle of the Atlantic. They were quite pretty, actually.

You preferred them over the dull green of McLaggen’s eyes.

“I got… sidetracked,” you murmured in return, nibbling your bottom lip as Harry’s hand left your arm—you almost swallowed your disappointment, but you thought too soon, his fingers finding yours instead.

Intertwined they became.

“I know,” he whispered. “Sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you were quick to reply, a little surprised that he was apologising. Yet, Harry simply shook his head, a small, soft smile finding his even softer lips.

“Actually, I think I did.” You furrowed your eyebrows, having no choice but to follow him as he began the journey back to the library, where you were supposed to be all alone. “I just… had a feeling. You know—when your chest gets all clouded and… your heartbeats start sounding like thunderclaps.”

Oh.

Merlin.

“Mhm…” you hummed, looking away, your cheeks flourishing with delightful shades of red. “All too familiar.”

thank you for reading!

#𓂃crescent.✩‧₊˚#𓂃luna’s requests.✩‧₊˚#harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fluff #harry potter #harry james potter #hp fandom #hp fanfic #golden trio era

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writtenbymoonflower · 1 year ago

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hello! I'm not sure if your requests are open, but could I ask for some hurt/comfort with poly!marauders with an autistic reader?

maybe reader has a meltdown because of sensory overload and they help her through it?

thank you so much! I love your writing xxx

thank you so much for requesting! poly!marauders x autistic fem!reader

cw: description of sensory overload, autistic meltdown/panic attack, brief mentions of unsafe stimming

943 words

By the time your building was in sight, you felt every ounce of adrenaline leave your body. You had been holding on by a fraying thread all day, taking every searing feeling of overwhelm in stride. Your hands were raw and scraped from digging your nails into your flesh, and your jaw was tight and aching from being permanently clenched.

Usually, work wasn’t this stressful for you. There were difficulties for sure, but it was familiar and predictable. Today however, there had been a company mixer involving all of the branches of your company. The building was hot and crowded with bodies, everyone was talking over each other, there were new people constantly trapping you in mundane conversation, and it was all just too much. It felt like every aspect of the event was scheming for your demise. You made it, though. You were as friendly as you could muster and you hoped your simmering discomfort was mostly imperceptible to your coworkers. Unfortunately for you however, the come down was worse than the overwhelm itself.

You kicked your pinching shoes off the minute you stepped through the door, wanting to rid yourself of all sensation. You rushed to your room to undress. All of your clothes were itching painfully into your skin and it was enough to make you want to scream. You tugged your blouse off, not even bothering to throw it in the hamper. Your hands were so shaky that you pinched your fingers in the zipper of your skirt. You were already close to tears, but when you punctured your stockings while tugging them off, it all caught up to you. You crumpled into a heap on the floor, shivering from the biting cold in the room. You rolled yourself into a ball as small as possible on the floor, shaking as tears rolled down your face. Everything was too much. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed like that, rocking back and forth and shaking your hands, as if you could shake off the crawling on your skin. In your overwhelmed state you didn’t notice the door open, or the footsteps rapidly approaching your room.

“Baby?” A voice was panicked, rushing over to you and crouching on the floor. You recognized the smell first, Sirius’ woodsy and fruity scent. His hands reached out to grab you before quickly retreating, not wanting to add to your state. “Baby, did you hurt yourself?” You shook your head rapidly, still choking on sobs. You winced as Sirius yelled. “Prongs! Moons!” They appeared in the doorway almost immediately, recognizing the urgency in his voice.

“James, get the blanket.” Remus ordered. They had seen this happen a few times before but it didn’t make them panic any less. It was difficult for them to see you in pain, especially when there was no visible injury to tend to. You were still shaking, biting your hand compulsively. Remus was firm but kind as he kept you safe from yourself. “Honey, I need you to be gentle, okay?” You didn’t respond but still obeyed. Soon, a warm and heavy blanket was placed over your shoulders, it helped to calm your shaking, but you were still crying.

“Will a hug help, lovie?” You nodded, craving the pressure. James pulled you onto his lap and squeezed you tight. The compression was wonderfully grounding, as if you could feel all the pain being juiced from your system like a lemon. He released you too soon, but you knew he was just being cautious. You tended to not know when pressure was too much, especially when you were in this state. It wasn’t rare for you to have bruises on your hands from squeezing or sitting on them when you got stressed. Still, you now felt calmer.

“Remmy, can you turn the lights off please? The buzzing hurts.” You winced. He scrambled up to do so, in a way you knew likely hurt his aching joints. Your brain began to quiet down, your system being cleansed from the unwelcome and intrusive sensations of the day. “Thank you.” You mumbled, playing with your fingers.

“Don’t thank us, baby.” Sirius wrapped the heavy blanket further around your shoulders. “Did something happen today?”

You shook your head. “Not really, just a bunch of little things. It was just a lot, I didn’t expect it to affect me so much.” You said the last part with a bit too much shame for the boys liking.

“Sometimes you don’t know until it’s happening.” James said gently. “I’m sorry it was a hard day, lovie.”

“Is there anything more we can do?” Sirius said restlessly. He hates that this happens to you, it makes him wish he could wrap you in warm, quiet darkness and hold you to his chest, shutting all the pain out.

You thought for a second. “I think I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten yet today. I was too distracted.” You knew the boys were still feeling especially tender, since you weren’t scolded.

“Why don’t we order a takeaway?” Remus suggested. “That way we can just relax for a bit.” He stroked your exposed knee with his fingers.

“I think that Greek place is open.” James said before you could answer. “I’ll get the menu.”

“Do you wanna move to the settee, sweet girl?” Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders. When you nodded he helped you stand up and ushered you to the sofa, wrapping you in more warm blankets when goosebumps rose. James handed you the remote.

“Pick what you want, lovie.” James sat on your other side, caging you in wonderfully. You were again covered in sensation, but this time it was welcome and comforting.

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cherry-pop-elf · 1 year ago

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hiya, i was wondering if you could make a headcanon sorta thing with the weasleys and them realising they’re in love with reader

Gasp, that sounds so fluffy. I MUST!

Weasley siblings the moment they realize that they are in love

Warnings: Only really for Bill honesty. I have to make it from his werewolf wounds. So medical gore warning. Bullying as well, with some scared Ron. Because it will involve spiders.

William ‘Bill’

The moment his working eye was able to focus, he was able to see you. See you there. You were fast asleep next to him. Curled up in his side, with your arms tucked in on yourself. That way you wouldnt mess with his bandages and wounds. He was in so much pain, and could hardly breath, but you were there. He was able to see your hands were slightly red, seeming to be irritated. Thats when he noticed the bowl of water on his bedside table. Along with a bloody rag. You must have been busy with washing his fresh wounds, while he was knocked out. You were taking care of him, until you needed sleep as well. That warmed him, as he was clearly taken care of. Especially given where he was. The Wolf Ward. A place for people suffering werewolfism are stayed. People tied to beds, chained, hooked to IV's, near death, already dead, so many cases. Yet.....Here you were. You stayed. You stayed, made sure he was taken care of, and made sure he wasnt alone. You loved him. Loved him so much, despite the risks. Even as far as sleeping in the same bed as him. That was when he knew it. Knew he was in love. His breathing was able to move easier, as he wrapped his arm around you. Hurt like hell, but worth it. Worth it, as he was able to see you smile.

Charlie

"What?” He blinked, as he stared out his bedroom window. Looking down to see you there. “You heard me. I’ll cause a distraction. I know you are packed. Go on and go-!” You called, as he was jaw dropped. He had been arguing with his mother for ages about this. Molly didn’t want him to have such a dangerous job. But of course precious golden child Bill got to be a curse breaker. One would argue is even more dangerous. Despite the letters of people wanting him to work in Romania, his mother refused. Over and over again. Seems like someone had other plans. You. You knew this could be the last time you see him, but you just couldn’t let him rot away in England. So, you hatched a plan. You would distract Molly, and give him enough time to sneak into the fireplace and get to Romania. “You are bloody insane….I like that-“ Charlie had to smile, as you would run around to the front of the house. Leaving Charlie to make sure he was properly packed. While he made sure his dragon hide gloves were inside, he could hear you knocking the front door. The familiar creaks of his mother leaving her room, and heading to the front door. He tossed his bag over his shoulder, and hurried down the stairs. “Where is the floo-?” He hissed. Of course she would hide it. Making sure he couldn’t sneak off. Course, you were smart enough to think ahead. “Oh come in. I’ll fix you something. Poor thing out in the late night cold. Come on-“ The moment she stepped to the kitchen, you ran over to him. Handing him your bag of floo. “Go go-“ You whispered, as he stared into your eyes. His heart never felt so full. “Better promise to visit-“ And before you knew it, he was kissing you. Kissing you goodbye. You were dazzed, only to snap back when the flash of green of the fire place echoed. “What was that-?!” Molly called. “NOTHING-!” You squeaked, with your face flushed. Left Charlie in a sappy smile, as his new chapter begun. With you in it.

Percy

“Leave him alone!” Percy heard you shout, as he was currently being dangled from his ankle. For being a prefect, he sure did not get treated as such. Was ambushed by a gaggle of Slytherins, younger then him no less, and now he was up in the air. Unable to grab his wand, as he just did not have the core strength. Another taunt at him. “Oh? What will you do if we don’t?” A bully asked, as you kept your fists tight. Percy didn’t want you to fight for him, but you were willing to even though you knew you would lose. And lose you did. Hard. Least in the chaos, Percy was able to escape. Running off to get a teacher, and catching them red handed. Needless to say, suspension will not be to light. Now, there you two were. Sitting in the medical wing. Both sharing a bed, as you two sat together. “You didn’t have to-“ He muttered, as he fidgeted with his bandages. “Yeah I did. Someone’s gotta. Bill and Charlie were busy.” You tried to play off, before you felt his hand holding yours. “Still. Pretty stupid…” He grumbled, but you returned the hand holding. “Someone’s gotta be stupid, so you don’t have a stick up your butt.” You smiled, as he rested his head on your shoulder. Comforted, and at peace.

Fred

“Wicked-“ Fred whispered, as the two of you were huddled together. Hidden away in a corner of the Three Broom Sticks, as you two were bonding over the map. Able to just people watch so happily. George had been given detention, and Fred was able to have a reassuring comfort in seeing him on the map. Knowing he wasn’t anywhere dangerous, given what happened to Ginny. It also was comforting to be sitting with someone as well. The two of you just snuggled in the tavern, during a winters day. It was soft. Different from the normal madness he’s used to. It’s different, and he liked different. Different also meant a change in habits. Such as feeling you rest your head on his shoulder. Trying to snuggle closer, to get more warmth. He couldn’t help it, as he wrapped his arm around you. Just you cuddling, and oblivious, as you watched the map. So curious by it, as he was more fascinated by you now. Taking advantage of how distracted you were. Maybe quiet moments were nice. Couldn’t help but rest his head against yours, and take in your scent. A quiet moment. A moment to think, and he was thinking hard. Maybe he wanted more quiet moments like this. Couldn’t help his smile, as you pointed at a name on the map. Making up some speculation on why they were there at this time. Had him laugh, and just melt into the moment. Yeah. He wanted more of this.

George

“George George Georgie Georgie Georgie-!” You just wouldn’t stop shouting, as you were soon crashing into him. Right when he left the shop he was in. Having been helping his younger siblings with getting school supplies. “Hey-! Who says I’m George-?!” He joked, as you didn’t let go. “Because you are actually nice-!” You tease, as he was hugging you back. “Also you have a mole on your neck, Fred doesn’t-“ You whispered. That had him blink, as he reached to said neck. “Ha-! Made you look-!” You giggled so deviously, before he pushed you away. He was cackling though. “You got me, I won’t lie-!” He snorted, as you two were just in giggles. It was so nice. He liked to laugh, and sometimes laughter from someone who wasn’t identical to you was nice. You felt as natural to laugh with as Fred. That’s something special. You don’t come across that easy. He knew you were special, and that simple moment was nice. “George-! Help-!” Ginny called, as she struggled with her supplies. “Coming Gin Gin-!” He would hurry over, with you in toe. Instantly helping, all the same. He couldn’t stop his smile, as he watched you help Ginny out. Shit, he was in love. And he knew it.

Ron

“HELP-! PLEASE! SOMEONE-!” Ron was screaming bloody murder, as he was cowering in the corner of the stone corridor of the courtyard. A decently large spider was keeping him trapped on a bench, and trying to hide his body as much as he could in the corner. He was in tears, as he was trying to hide from the spider. Luckily, you could hear him. “IM COMING RON-!” You shouted, as you ran across the stones. Coming into view, and seeing what was distressing him. He was already expecting you to yell at him for being such a baby about it. You didn’t, but instead you focused on getting the spider away. You pulled out your wand, and remembered what Hermione taught you both. “Wingardium Leviosa-“ You called, and lifted the spider into the air. You then made sure to make as much distance from Ron as you could, and let it escape into the wild. Other side of the courtyard, and outside a window. That way it would return to the forest. Once done, you hurried back. Quick to hold Ron. “It’s ok, it was a big spider. Spiders can be pretty dangerous.” You comforted. Not teasing him, or calling him a baby. Not making fun of him, but actually took his fear seriously. The relief was in his tears, as he held you back. Holding you tightly, as you pet his hair. You understood it was a fear, and fears were serious. He was so relieved. You were his hero, and he owed you for it. His guardian Angel. “Thank you-“ He hiccuped, as you kissed his head. “You would have done the same, shush.” You tease, as you didn’t discount that he can be brave. That was the kicker that sparked something inside of him. He was smiling, as you held him. For as long as he needed. You cared about him, and he was sure caring about you.

Ginny

“Do you think I’ll ever become a Quidditch player-?” Ginny asked you, as you two were busy in class. Was History Of Magic, with Professor Binns. Boring as hell, so it wasn’t like you two were paying attention. “Yeah, doubting yourself?” You asked, as she played with her Quill. “Maybe…” She mumbled, before plopping her head on the table. Ever since that incident in the chambers, she got depressed far easier. Bill said that’s often a side effect of being involved with a long term curse, or being exposed to a Horcrux. Curse breaker stuff, so you didn’t really focus on it. Well, until Ginny needed help. She needed a cheerleader, and like hell you wouldn’t grab your Pom Pom’s and cheer. “You’ll be an amazing Qudditch player. I know it. The best even! You’ll make history.” You beam, as she watched you. Unable to really hear you, as she sighed. So, you did what you’ve seen her brothers do. You hugged her, and refused to let go. “Get off me-“ She whined, but you refused. “I shall suffocate you, until you say uncle-“ You warned, before she started to giggle at you. “Seriously, stop-“ She pleaded, but was giggling away. “Not until you say you are the best quidditch player ever. I mean it, I’m stubborn-“ You warned, as she threw her hands up in defeat. “I yield I yield. I shall be better than the likes of Viktor Krum, even-“ She spoke with sarcasm, but it’s a step. “Nope, you gotta mean it.” You refused, as she giggled again. “Eh, you’re comfy.” She retaliated, as you two ended up in a cuddle bundle. She was able to smile, and mean it. Was hard to do, since that incident. She liked it. Liked how you were able to do it so easy for her. Had her heart all a flutter. Guess that’s another thing she will need to ask her older brothers about. What to do when someone gives you butterflies?

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