#Merlin’s beard these two are a mess

[theealbatross]

marry me (s.s.)

Plot | The 3 times Sebastian thought about marrying you and the 1 time he asked.

Tags | miscommunication, mentions of murder and poisonings, fluff, implied smut, dangerous idiots in love, fluff, 6k-ish words

A/N: sorry this took so long i went on a vacation! One of the funniest line about Ominis locking the two of them up was written by @/shinzhon in our discord server!

Series Masterlist - the rest of the chapters here

“Seriously Sebastian, how many times has it been this month?”

“It’s not my fault this time, I swear!”

“So, you slipped and somehow ended up in the Restricted Section? Is there some secret passage I hadn’t known about? Care to share to the class?” Ominis pinned him with a look and despite knowing his friend was blind Sebastian still raised his hands in surrender. Ominis sighed, there was no point really. When he had agreed to be friends with the troublesome boy in their first year he had signed up for this. It’s his fault for not seeing the mischievousness in those innocent brown eyes.

“I’m surprised,” Ominis continued as he started the trek back to their common room, the painful small talks he had with the headmaster in order to prevent anything getting sent to Solomon already fading as he got further away from the office. He could only imagine the absolute hell the old man would’ve sent their way if he had heard of his rendezvous in the Restricted Section. “It just isn’t like you.”

Sebastian scoffed, “To be in the Restricted Section? Where have you been the past year?”

“No, you idiot,” he hissed. “It isn’t like you to be caught.”

The falter in Sebastian’s steps had him raising an eyebrow, neck snapping back in accusation. “I’ve been caught once,” Sebastian reminded him quickly of the time Scribner first put the anti-Alohamora charm in the doors of the Restricted Section.

"I'm not finished," He’s hiding something. “It isn’t like you to be caught twice.”

He stopped on his track at the sound of Sebastian’s wince. “Okay, don’t be mad –”

“Oh no.”

“The new fifth-year needed some help to get in the restricted section because – well, I actually can’t tell you, she made me swear – and it’s bigger than the both of us and it was going so well! But Peeves caught just as we were about to –”

“Honestly, Sebastian, enough!”

He didn’t need to hear any of this.

Sebastian was right. Whatever great big mess that new kid was in the middle of was bigger than the both of them. And he has had more than enough on his plate trying to keep his friend out of trouble without the additional presence of another mysterious adrenaline junkie being thrown in the mix – one who was worryingly a magnet for big trouble. It was no wonder Sebastian was transfixed; he was looking at the damn mirror.

“Whatever fascination you have with that girl ends now,” It doesn’t escape him how much he sounded like a father getting in-between two lovers. He would’ve laughed in incredulity at the current situation he had found himself in if he wasn’t so bloody frustrated. “You get in enough trouble on your own, she doesn’t need to be sucking you up in her own problems.”

Sebastian makes a sound that doesn’t sound like a ‘yes, Ominis’ and the blond’s blood vessels nearly pop. He cannot believe this.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that. Honestly, she was brilliant! You should’ve been there; she took to the Disillusionment spell so quick that if we hadn’t let out guard down, we –”

“Oh, Merlin’s Beard, why don’t you marry the damn girl and the both of you leave me out of your tomfooleries!”

That would be ideal, he thinks. In a perfect world, he’s going to lock the two of them in a room and eat the key. There he would have no daily nuisances, won’t have to worry about sneaky Slytherins and the explosion of troubles they bring with them, and won’t need to suffer through Headmaster Black’s presence to get them out of it. A thankless job that brought nothing but headaches.

It was only when he was out of his blissful reverie that he realized his headache had stopped walking behind him seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

No.

“Sebastian … “

The other boy audibly flinched, his breath now irregular, and Ominis will bet all the galleons in the Gaunt’s vault that if he could see his old friend’s face would be as red as a Gryffindor’s arse right now.

He could almost cry, his palms producing embarrassing cold sweats at the absolute worst-case scenario unfolding in front of his unseeing eyes. “Please – I am begging you – not this one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh no, no, no.

Suddenly, the prospect of Sebastian and this troublemaker getting together was not that idyllic. In quick successions, all possible worst-case scenario popped in Ominis head. Sebastian was bad enough, if he had someone who was equally as reckless and rash as him it would be something out of his worst nightmare.

Ominis is a good person. This can’t be happening to him.

“Sebastian, listen to me –”

With only a breeze as his answer Sebastian skipped right past Ominis and up the grand staircase. Ominis could feel the heat of his face. “No time to talk. Got somewhere to be –”

“Sebastian, no!”

Why must it keep happening to him?

Sebastian was pretty sure the house in Feldcroft has not heard Anne’s laughter in a long, long time. Yet, here you were, huddled together with his sister, whispering giggle-worthy stories about him no doubt by the way your gaze kept fluttering back to him, and lifting the dreadful ooze that has monopolized the small space since his sister’s illness.

“Nice girl,” He had nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized his uncle had been sitting on the spare bed hidden by a curtain.

“Y-Yeah,” Merlin’s beard you even got his unpleasant uncle’s favor in such a short time – a miracle worker, truly. “She’s … quite something.”

Talking to him has always been awkward.

Even before Anne had gotten sick, he found it difficult to converse with the man who looked too much but was simultaneously nothing like his gentle, kind father. And maybe it was also the childish insistence that if he had let the man into his heart, he would betray his parents – his father – that he just couldn’t let him in. It would feel too much like replacing him so he just opted in letting Solomon linger at the precipice of his life and the man was more than happy to do so.

After all, if Solomon was nothing like his father, Sebastian was everything that reminded Solomon of his dead brother. And those were holes none of them could fill for each other.

“You know, your mother was the same,” Sebastian’s eyebrows raised, never hearing Solomon talk about her till now. “When she was a 7th year I was just starting in Hogwarts and let me tell you, I had little hope for that brother of mine of ever getting her attention.”

His uncle continued to stare at you like he was seeing a ghost – the good kind – not the kind he sees when he looks at him. “She was brilliant, loved by even the firmest professors. And was always willing to hold out a helping hand, even to lost first years whose ass of a brother left to go fend for himself in the confusing moving stairs of Hogwarts.”

Even Sebastian let out a chuckle at that ridiculous image. Sometimes he forgets that even his old uncle had once been a child. The thought is uncomfortable, especially looking at the man he is now. “I always told him he was out of his mind for courting your mother but did my crazy brother listen? Absolutely not.”

Where was he going with this?

Sebastian returned his eyes back to you.

Brilliant, admirable, courageous you.

With your bright smile that feeds his ego by always shining brighter with him. The recklessness that never fails to infuriate and impress on his last nerves. The kindness you innately had in you that makes him want to wrap you up in the finest silk then lock you up in an impenetrable room so nobody else may ever touch it – so nobody else may have you.

That would be best, he thinks.

“It would seem even that insanity he had passed on to you.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths so all his blood doesn’t go to his face, unable to look at the older man. “It’s not like that,” he cleared his throat, now unable to look at you. “We’re … friends.”

“A good … companionship is built upon friendship,” Sebastian’s head whipped to this uncle as if to say ‘how would you know?’ but his uncle just grunted, shrugging before standing up to busy himself in the kitchen, calling you out to assist and telling Anne to take her medicine.

A good companionship. He knows it’s a bit too early but the thought of it wasn’t as horrifying as he thought it would be. The budding interest he had in his new friend was pushed and shoved into the deepest nook of his brain – he had more pressing things to tend to, one that was more important than discerning why he could recognize the sound of her laughter in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall.

But if he really thinks about it, takes a moment to breathe and considers it … it would be nice. She’s had research interest but with her grades and skill being a renowned curse-breaker or even an auror isn’t out of the question. If he works hard, he knows he’d be able to keep up and support her and Anne – maybe even set up an apartment in the city, they can just visit his sister when they have the chance.

Of course,he will try to encourage her to settle back down in Feldcroft if Anne still lives here but Irondale is quite beautiful too, a good place to practice flying when they have a family, let his children experience a true childhood surrounded by peace and quiet – two kids would be nice. Twins run in the family so maybe he could convince her for another one if their first pair are of the same gender. He would really like a daughter who looks just like --

 “I like her.”

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian jumped when he realized his twin sister was now right in front of him while he was deep in his embarrassing delusions. (When did the members of his family become so sneaky?) She grinned at him as if she knew exactly what had him so distracted. To avoid her piercing stare, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he guided her in the little nook of her bedroom where all the vials full of her medicines were stored.

“I knew you would. ‘s why I brought her here.”

“Oh?” Anne nonchalantly drank a disgusting-looking fluid in one gulp. “So, it wasn’t cause you wanted to monopolize her and get ahead of your competition back at Hogwarts?”

Sebastian gawked, his entire body heating up from the accusation. “What – no, it’s not – I thought she would cheer you up!”

He quickly took a quick peek at the corner, relieved that you were too busy charming his uncle off to hear such absurd allegations against him. He wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of him at all. After all, for how wondrous those visions are, he puts your friendship on a pedestal above anything else.

He thinks he’ll be more than content to be just your friend. Maybe.

“How gracious of you, brother,” Anne smirked, in this light it was almost like the old Anne.

Sebastian smirked at her, masking indifference, “I try.”

He should’ve known. Anne would be the one who might just see through all of him, even the things he likes to keep from his head. Even his most impossible dreams of cozy cottages and soft days.

“Sebastian!” The twins straightened up at your voice, both felt like they had been caught red-handed as you cheerfully rounded the corner. “Oh, was I interrupting –”

“No, not at all!” Anne pushed Sebastian firmly, making him stumble and catch himself just as he was about to crash into you. The proximity forces him to stare as your eyes crinkled when you smiled. He stops breathing.

You’ll look dazzling in white; he thinks.

“Your uncle told me your neighbor had some mint in their garden, said you could help me find it? It would go well with the juice.”

Sebastian’s eyes fell to your lips as you spoke before physically ripping his eyes out to look at your eyes, nodding, as his brain tried to keep up between his imagination and the reality of your face in front of his.  You grinned, already walking towards the door. He lets out a breath, the faint traces of your perfume that he gave you wafting an enchanting trail that kept his gaze on your retreating back.

“Get on with it,” Anne pushed him again and this time he gave her his deadliest glare as he followed after you. “You can’t hide her in Feldcroft forever.”

“Zip it.”

Solomon stood next to Anne as they stared at the two sweethearts in their own worlds as they made an adventure out of the small trip. Anne couldn’t help but giggle when Sebastian tripped because he was too busy looking at you instead of the road.

“Are men always this stubborn and stupid?”

“No,” Solomon grumbled, heart aching fondly when in a blink he could almost see a different mirage of figures that were both familiar and strangers at the same time. “He’s just his father’s son.”

“It’s over.”

Sebastian turned his head, straying his eyes away from the night sky framed by the room’s glass ceiling to look at you.  “It’s over.”

The two of you lay down on the floor of the room of requirement, sneaking away from the graduation party to spend the last moments of your life as a student in Hogwarts together. It wasn’t intentional, you had sneaked out for a proper goodbye to the sentient room and thanked it for everything it had provided for you but, like always, Sebastian had gotten ahold of your sneaking form before you could take two steps away from his side.

Sebastian can see that the inevitability of it all is making you emotional, a Hogwarts-shaped hole already forming in the crevices of your heart. The thought of no longer having this haven to escape the world's cruel realities makes him sigh.

“I’m terrified,” your whispered confession surprised him.

His gallant darling? Scared?

“What for?”

You smiled at him sheepishly. “It feels stupid but … I’m scared of things changing. I feel like that little girl again – 15 years old and alone in this great, big world I was thrust into.” Sebastian noticed a shudder crawl over your body. “And this time I won’t have a cheeky Slytherin lad to show me around.”

Sebastian frowned, unsure if he was more disappointed at you for thinking you would lose him that easily or at himself for not nailing that the two of you were tethered forevermore in that bright head of yours.

Instead, he took your shaking hands that you tried to hide and held on to it tight.

You smiled up at him. “Promise to stay in touch?”

He could almost scoff at such an understatement of a request. Do you know I’m never letting you go?

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he grinned, hoping to charm the rest of your remnant fears away. “I expect weekly letters while I’m away from training.”

You scrunched your nose, which he thinks is just adorable “What? So you can brag to your fellow trainees you have a lovesick lady waiting for you at home?”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling and heart racing, “Maybe I should keep a photo of you plastered on my wall then, really commit to the part. A pretty face like you on my walls should make me the envy of my entire group.”

Her laugh came out nervous, her grip on his hands tightened. She’s still scared.

If only he had been sorted in Gryffindor maybe then he would’ve been daring enough to say something. To fall to his knees in this room and let his forehead kiss the ground and beg you to stay with him, run away with him, marry him. To let him spend the rest of his lowly life making sure you will never be lonely again.

But the fates were cruel and for all his pretense of confidence, the gods’ honest truth is he is a coward. A coward with no prospects.

If he wants your hand he needs to prepare, to follow the plan he had mapped out since the night he had realized he would very much like to spend the rest of his life with you or die trying. He might not be worth anything for now but he’ll make himself enough.  He just needs to hold on … just two more years – it’s all he asks.

Just two years for him to establish himself, to become someone, to earn the right to ask you. He knows it will be hard, you’ll be engrossed in your own research and won’t be able to see him as he trains to be an auror. And there was always a risk of you meeting someone else but he’s already made Poppy swear to report everything to him while she accompanies you in your travels, a contingency plan for any hurdle that may put a wrench in his plans.

If all of this fails then so be it, but he won’t lose you from a lack of planning or trying.

“Why are you looking at me like that?

He didn’t realize he was staring at you while his thoughts ran wild. The dark of your eyes reflected the ceilings you had charmed with the sky of the Forbidden Forest. The dim hue of the room made you look ethereal, like a forest fairy sent to lead him to a beautiful doom. He’d follow you anywhere.

Is it too soon to tell you I love you?

Is it too late?

“Have I ever told you that you’re the only one I need?” Sebastian suddenly whispered, vulnerable.

It’s the closest thing he’ll allow himself to say for now, placating the intensity of his need to be close to you by properly laying on his side and pressing a firm hand on your cheeks as you followed his lead, your own loosely dangling on his waist.

“Don’t you think Ominis will be quite offended by that?” you teased, your fingers tracing patterns on his spine.

He couldn’t help but match your grin, “He’ll live.”

“Sebastian,” your words quiet but he moved his hand at the back of your head to pull you in closer, muffling your following words on his chest. “Promise me nothing will change?”

Sebastian’s hold on you tensed, pressing the gentlest kiss at the top of your head to silence his protests.

No, he wants to scream. Everything has to change.

He’ll change everything for you.

“I promise,” he lies.

He’s no Gryffindor, after all.

[ 5 years later ]

“I almost fucking killed you!”

You rolled your eyes, which was a bad idea considering the curse that malfunctioned in Gringott’s brought upon a gaggle of Inferis along with a mutated one that grew about ten feet tall. Before it could lunge straight at your head, Sebastian – Merlin’s beard, he was still as handsome as the day you had left Hogwarts – pulled you into him before casting a Protego followed by a Confringo, blasting the undead’s arm away.

Still his favorite after all these years.

“What? You become a bigshot Auror and forget my face?!”

With an Incendio, the rest of the Inferis were now weakened enough that Sebastian was able to finish them all in one go (bloody hell!). Giving you time to gather yourself and lash out a heavy burst of ancient magic to take care of the giant Inferi once and for all.

You wobbled from the effort but firm hands and a chest caught you. When you looked up you were greeted by a cantankerous Sebastian covered in dust and dirt.

“As if I could see your face in those ridiculous glasses you’re wearing. Is that a lizard’s eye?”

You pulled on the offending thing, turning and standing on your tiptoes to put it on him, then he could see that it helps with seeing the traps laid out around the vault. “Satisfied your inquiries, Mr. Auror?”

He pushed the glasses to the top of his head, still looking down at you with a suspicious glare. Damn him and damn the entire male race for their inability to stop growing their limbs. “I should have you arrested. Illegally breaking into Gringots? What were you thinking?”

“Please, any curse-breaker you sent this way would’ve been eaten by that curse, I barely got out with my life if not for my ancient magic.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows twitched in the familiar way when he wasn’t particularly fond of you – which usually only happens when you throw yourself in danger … like today. Old habits die hard.

“I –”

“Save it,” he raised a palm. You sucked your lips into a thin line comically – it has been half a decade since you last saw him after all, you’re not entirely quite sure If this Sebastian in front of you would hesitate in throwing his prodigal best friend into the cold stone walls of a ministry ordained prison. “You owe me.”

Before he could, you fired off a blast of ancient magic behind him, crushing the lone Inferi that was bidding its time under a rock. You smirked. “Are we even now?”

“Not even fucking close,” His face was blank, unamused. Sebastian’s patience has never been the longest but this is one of the few times his ire was aimed at you, the novelty of it would make you blush if you weren’t so guilty. “Where have you been?”

This time it was your smile that fell, eyes dropping with it in shame. Straight to it, huh.

“Sebastian … I left a lett –“

“A letter! You call that a letter?!” He guffawed, turning his back on you and started pacing just at the ledge that led to a very, very, long fall to the bottom of Gringotts. Your fingers twitched to reach out for him but you had a feeling he wasn’t particularly interested in getting mothered right now as he spiraled out the words you’re sure he had surely been holding the past years. “My dearest friend, one who fights trolls for practice and is the most wanted woman of all dark wizards in the country disappears without a trace even when I spent an entire year searching for her –”

He looked for you?

“—but oh no! All is well Sebastian, she left you a bloody note!”

You felt like a reprimanded toddler but maybe (just maybe) you deserved it. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Something in your words snapped the last of Sebastian’s nerve. The gall of you – to stand here like it was nothing. The days he had spent tracking you, dreading the moment he would be greeted by your corpse.

How dare you leave? How dare you leave him? Of all the people in this world you were the one who was supposed to stay on his side.

‘I’ll be back. I promise. I just need time’

He marched to where you were standing, cupping both of your shoulders so you can look at him. “I will be given an explanation.”

Instead, your eyes fell on his left hand. He followed your line of sight, the gold band around his finger making all your cruelest nightmares come true.

How did it come to this? You scoured your memories of your entire friendship – how had the two of you come from being unable to keep a single secret from each other to strangers that have too many unspoken grievances in between them?

Was this inevitable?

Finally, you gathered your strength. He did deserve the truth from you of all people. And you could truly never keep a secret from Sebastian even now – which is also why you left. The shame, the unjustified anger, the hurt in your chest when you looked at him – you couldn’t handle it.

“I … I heard from Leander.”

His frown deepened. What does Leander have anything to do with this?

“I was going to visit you on the last weekend of your training. Then Leander caught me in town and he said … he said that after you had finished your auror training you were planning to propose, that you were already looking for a ring.”

He is going to kill that orange blabbermouth fuc –

“I couldn’t – surely, you couldn’t be that daft. I … I loved you, Sebastian! And I know I’m your friend and I should’ve been there for you. And I really am – I am happy for you,” you took his hand, your gentle touch shakily running through the gold band around his ring finger as you tried to hold back the tears. It felt like it was mocking you, like it could burn a mark on your skin. “If anyone deserves to build a family it would be you. I just … in that moment I couldn’t be happy for you. I needed to remove myself from the situation and I couldn’t say goodbye – you wouldn’t have let me! I panicked and I was hurt and … I really am sorry. I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

As humiliating as it was to say all the hurt that you were carrying with you as you traveled the world to escape your love for him it did make you feel lighter. Were you a coward? Maybe so. But you will not shame your past self for what she did out of hurt and fear. It was painful but necessary.

It wasn’t until Sebastian was cupping your face and wiping your cheeks with his thumb that you realized you had been crying.

“Darling, who did you think the ring was for?”

You blinked, “What?”

You could tell he was trying to lengthen his patience with you, clearly as he was the more emotionally stable one at the moment even though it looked like he was at the precipice of choking you. "Have I ever told you that I was courting anyone?”

The conversation was taking a turn you weren't expecting. “N-No, but Leander and Everett used to keep teasing you about the Ministry girls that was always at your tail so I just assumed …”

He raised his eyebrows, holding onto your cheeks tighter so you had to look at him. For the first time in your entire friendship, you couldn’t read him at all. “I assumed you became interested in one of them.”

He sighed, “No, sweetheart. I did not become interested in any of them.”

You frowned, still feeling the cold ring on your cheek. “Then who did you marry?”

“I’m … not married.” This time it was him who seemed to blush, actually breaking eye contact to chuckle. When he looked back at you it was like you were getting a peek of the boyish Sebastian you once knew. “I would have been if the beautiful witch I had been chasing did not disappear on me right when I was about to propose.”

His words sunk into you like molasses, the wrinkle in between your eyebrows disappearing as your eyes widened in realization. Surely, he doesn’t mean –

“I just wore it since I would’ve been wearing it either way if someone had said yes. And it’s a more effective way to ward off any hopefuls. A little white lie to cover up my bruised heart and spare their egos”

“Wait, wait –“you tried to push him away but one of his arms just wrapped around your back, pushing your chest to his. He wasn’t going to let you get away this time, if he has to cast a binding spell on you without your knowledge then so be it.

The past five years had been torture enough.

“I guess it’s what I deserved. Letting the love of my life wait around just because my pride wanted me to earn the right to ask for her hand. The Hero of Hogwarts, the brightest witch of our age – surely, I couldn’t just ask her, could I?”

The abundance of information threatened to drown your head in. Pieces of the grand puzzle that never seemed to fit right clicking and clacking in your head as you slowly pieced together the blanks in the history of your relationship because you didn’t bother to ask and he didn’t bother to say anything.

He means you right? He was going to propose to you? The bloody ring you’ve been having nightmares about was for you?!

But he had never … I mean sure you flirted here and there but it was nothing … official. No words were ever shared, no announcements, nor formality.

It was all very … murky and ambiguous.

“Hey, back to me, darling,” he gently pressed his thumb that was still holding on to your cheek. “I swear even when we’re together it’s like you’re still running away.” As if suddenly lost in thought himself he murmured, “Should I charm a chain on you, after all?”

You blinked and the dark glint in his eyes that you had only seen in his darkest moments in your fifth year disappeared, now replaced with a small cheeky smile.

“Sebastian, the ring was it – surely it wasn’t –”

“For you?” He was so close now that you could count all the freckles in his face, his lips running through your cheeks, even pressing a kiss on your temple. “Then riddle me this, my love – if not for you then who else would it be for? Hmm? Who else would I be begging to be my wife if not my most treasured friend? The one person who stood beside me through it all?”

Another kiss on your cheeks. “The only light in my life?”

The underside of your jaw. “The beautiful witch who had rudely stolen my heart when we were children then had the nerve to run away with it just as I was able to gather all the courage I had to ask for hers in return?”

He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, pulling and pulling and pulling as if he wanted to meld the two of you together. “Who else but you? There was and would’ve been nobody else but you.”

A shadow of a kiss at the edge of your lips. “You’re the only woman I have ever loved.”

Your heart threatens to explode.

“And you’re the only one I will ever love,” he whispered, but the quiet of the caves of Gringotts made his voice echo inside your overheating skull.

You had been aware of Sebastian’s charms when you were younger but now that he was using his pretty face and raspy voice at its full extent while professing his love for you in the murky caves of Gringotts and pieces of Inferi corpses scattered on the ground – you could almost feel your brain malfunctioning.

“I had resigned myself to a life of isolation if you had never come back,” he declared. “But you did. Why?”

He was not going to accept anything less than the truth. The intensity behind his eyes, the grip he has around you was so firm you were almost hanging off the ground. The unbearable weight of your guilt for almost driving this man to insanity even if it had not been your intention had you letting go of your defenses.

“Because I missed you,” you admitted, eyes looking straight at him to finally bare your soul. “And I couldn’t find anything the world could offer that could compare to you. Even if we just remained friends I –”

His chuckle cut you off.

“We could never just be friends,” he whispered, you couldn’t agree more. “We were never just friends. Darling, I’m not a religious man but if soulmates are real then yours and mine have always been tied to each other. And if whatever god is up there was cruel enough not to have done that then I would’ve knotted it myself.”

You giggle through your tears – you had played out so many fantasies of Sebastian’s confessions and yet now that you were living your wildest dreams it felt like your heart was trying to escape your chest.

“If you hadn’t come back, it would’ve done nothing short of killing me, you have to know that,” a ragged breath escapes him as if the mere memory of your escape were enough to cause him physical pain. “Because I love you and I have always loved you even back when I didn’t know what love is. Even when love was a mere flutter in my chest every time I looked at you. Even when I was a fool in a path to destruction I … I have always, always loved you.”

You nodded, almost gasping at the intensity of his words. “I love you too, Sebastian. So much. I would’ve always come back. I couldn’t – I would’ve honestly poisoned your wife if you had married another.”

A laugh exploded out of his mouth at your sudden proclamation, echoing through the eerie corners of the caves. “And I had more than enough daydreams of torturing any lovers you might’ve taken in your travels.” The sickly-sweet tone that contrasted such horrid words had you giggling.

“Think we should stick to each other then?” You roped an arm around his neck, letting him carry your dead weight. “Spare some poor suckers from poisons and murders.”

He grinned, leaning in closer and closer, “You always had been the one with bright ideas.”

You smiled just as he finally pressed his lips into yours. Even your wildest dream couldn’t compare to this. Sebastian’s greedy grip on your waist, his familiar scent, his taste – him. It wasn’t perfect – a bit too rough, too needy yet somehow never enough – it was better, a perfect amalgamation of your entire relationship.

“Marry me,” he commanded in between kisses, too desperate to separate from you for more than a second. “Tell me you’ll have me.”

“You’re mine,” You gasp when he suddenly turned you around and pressed you on the jagged wall of the cave. “Always been mine.”

You’ve never not been mine.

Suddenly, Sebastian ended your kisses, a whine slipping out of your throat which he placated with a quick peck before he haphazardly pulled a necklace of some kind around his neck, snapping it to let the pendant fall into his palms.

Only it wasn’t a pendant. It was a ring. The ring.

“Oh my, Sebastian,” your vision blurs with tears as he gently takes your shaking hand, slipping the beautiful jewelry on your ring finger where it shall sit forever. “It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to marry you.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to your temple as you continued to admire the ring on your finger.

“You keep buttering me up like this and I’ll have to kidnap the first priest I see when we get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t object to that, we’ve never been one for propriety.”

“I can’t believe we had our first kiss in Gringott’s of all places,” he muttered, the vibration of his voice tickling your chest as he buries his face in it.

“That wasn’t my first kiss.”

That had his head snapping, eyes murderous at your words. "What?”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

“Huh.”

You nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact as he tries to scour through his memories.

“Remember our fight in the Room of Requirement? About the Triwizards game?”

He winced. “I’d rather not remember that.”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You settled back, knowing him well enough to know his mind was rapidly working through his memories to figure out the cryptic declaration you had confessed.

It had been frustrating when you had remembered such important event days after it happened. All it had taken was a faint whiff of Sebastian’s shampoo in your pillow in the room of requirement before you were shooting up in your bed at the memories trickling in your brain as you tried to figure out if it had been one of your more apparent daydreams only to scream when you had realized it had happened and the two of you completely forgot about it.

You had become wary of Sebastian then, staring and studying his face at any hint that he also had the luck of remembering such bold confessions from you. You aren’t sure if you were more relieved or disappointed when he showed no inkling of gaining the curse of such knowledge like you.

But at your sudden engagement to him, you believe you have suffered enough of such vexations alone. You are to be married after all which means the two of you shall share every burden from now on -- even the most embarrassing and frustrating ones.

Sebastian’s muscles locked, pushing himself up to cage you in bed as his frantic eyes widened.

You grin. He remembers.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way.”

He slumps back down in your chest, groaning. “Are you sure you're okay with marrying a bloody idiot?”

Your body shakes with laughter. “Lucky for you, idiots are just my type.”

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Polyjuice Potion | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Part Two

 ← Read Part One

Back by popular demand! I was actually laughing while I wrote this so I hope y'all do too. This is so fucking silly bahahahah poor sebastian. except not really at all, it's so fun torturing him HAH

I will add as an aside, that since this is set in fifth year, I won't be doing a part three since I never write intimate scenes between characters unless they are 18+. Thanks for respecting this boundary!

Words: ~5,800

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Humor

Sebastian Sallow was going to die.

He was sure of it. Whether by expulsion, an arranged marriage, or sheer embarrassment, his demise was imminent.

The rest of the day had been a blur. He barely absorbed a word of his lectures, nearly set his robes on fire in Potions, and had been so lost in thought at lunch that he nearly took a bite out of his goblet instead of his sandwich.

He was spiraling.

He replayed the conversation with Black over and over, trying to decide which part had been the most damning. The secluded alcoves? The suggestion of a scandal? The casual mention of a baby?!

But the worst part—the part that made his stomach twist itself into impossible knots—was the marriage comment.

A proper arrangement. Ensuring the integrity of all involved parties.

Sebastian could barely breathe just thinking about it. Would Black actually force him into it? Could he? He still wasn’t sure what the school’s policies were when it came to these things.

And the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that he couldn’t even properly deny Black’s accusations.

Because you had been sneaking off together. And it had been improper. Very improper.

Sebastian ran a hand down his face.

Merlin’s bloody beard.

What if Black had proof?

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited so violently at the thought that he nearly tripped over his own feet.

No. Absolutely not. He wasn’t ready to even think about that.

Sebastian needed to talk to you. Immediately.

You were the only other person involved in this mess—aside from the bloody headmaster—which meant you were his only hope of figuring out how deep this disaster went.

Did Black speak to you? Did he give you the same accusations? Did he mention marriage?!

Sebastian stormed through the halls, half-aware of students and portraits giving him odd looks as he passed. His usual easygoing confidence was nowhere to be found. He was on a mission.

When he finally spotted you sitting in the Great Hall, completely at ease, not a single ounce of concern on your face, he nearly collapsed with relief.

Then he narrowed his eyes.

Why were you so calm?

How were you not losing your mind over this?

Unless…

Oh, no.

Maybe Black hadn't spoken to you yet. And if you didn’t know yet...

Sebastian’s breath caught.

He was going to have to break this humiliating, horrible, life-ruining news.

And there was no dignified way to do it.

Taking a steadying breath, he strode up to you, his pulse hammering in his throat.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice as casual as he could make it.

You turned to him with an easy smile. “Hey.”

Sebastian stared at you, waiting—praying—for some sign of recognition. Some hint that you already knew what he was about to say.

But you just looked at him expectantly, utterly unaware of the existential crisis unfolding inside him.

His stomach sank.

Oh, fuck. You really don’t know.

Sebastian swallowed, suddenly unsure how to even begin.

“So,” he started, voice tight. “How was your day?”

You blinked at him. “Fine. Yours?”

Sebastian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Could’ve been better.”

You hummed, tilting your head at him. “Oh? Something on your mind?”

Sebastian just stared.

Something on his mind? Something on his mind?!

Did you have any idea the kind of mental gymnastics he had been performing all day?

He dragged a hand through his hair, forcing his voice to stay even. “Did… Black speak to you today?”

You blinked, brow furrowing. “The Headmaster?”

“Yes.”

Your frown deepened. “Why would he?”

Sebastian’s pulse spiked.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck—

“Well.” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know. But he, uh, might’ve mentioned you.”

You tilted your head, expression unreadable. “Oh? And why would he do that?”

Sebastian felt sick.

“That’s… not important,” he muttered. “Did he seem… suspicious of you?”

You shrugged. “Not that I noticed.”

Sebastian’s stomach was in knots. “Right. Right. That’s good.”

You studied him, your expression flickering just slightly—too observant.

“Why?” you asked, ever so innocent. “Did something happen?”

Sebastian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Happen? No, no, nothing happened, just that the bloody Headmaster of Hogwarts apparently thinks we’ve been—”

Your brows lifted, lips twitching in a way that made him deeply uneasy.

“Been…?”

Sebastian groaned, resisting the urge to physically collapse.

“Black thinks we’ve been sneaking off to do improper things,” he muttered, low and fast.

Your lips parted slightly. “What would give you that impression?”

Sebastian scowled. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said flatly. “Maybe the fact that he directly accused me of it. And then had the audacity to start talking about marriage.”

You made a strangled noise.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. Had you just laughed?

No. No, surely not—

You cleared your throat. “And what did you say?”

Sebastian let out a sharp breath. “I—I denied it, obviously! But he just kept pushing, talking about consequences and reputation and—”

He was spiraling again. Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out:

“Look, I swear I would never ruin your future like that—unless you wanted me to, I mean—wait, no, that's not what I meant, just that—”

Sebastian froze. His entire life flashed before his eyes.

Your expression barely wavered. Barely.

But he saw it.

The flicker of amusement. The way your lips twitched. The way you were struggling— visibly struggling—to hold back laughter.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. His entire body went rigid.

“What?” he demanded.

You shook your head too quickly. “Nothing.”

“No. No, not nothing.” He studied your face closely. “You’re enjoying this!"

You shrugged, playing innocent. “Enjoying what?”

Sebastian groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Merlin, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You just patted his shoulder. “Sebastian… we have been sneaking off to do improper things.”

Sebastian swallowed, hard. “Yes, well—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat violently. “That’s— I mean— Not that I— We weren’t—”

You grinned. “Oh? What was that? We weren’t what?”

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited. His entire spine burned, every memory of exactly what the two of you had been up to flashing through his mind at lightspeed.

The Undercroft. The hidden corridors. The darkened corners of the library. The breathless, desperate whispers beneath the canopy of the Forbidden Forest.

And now Black was onto him.

Sebastian groaned, gripping his hair. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake—this isn’t funny!"

You beamed at him. “It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

Sebastian dropped his hands, exhaling sharply. “I hate you.”

You giggled. Actually giggled. “No, you don’t.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. He was so close to losing his mind. “I might.”

You patted his cheek. “Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

Sebastian froze. You had never called him that before. His entire body locked up. His thoughts derailed completely.

You, unbothered, turned on your heel and started toward the entrance of the Great Hall.

Sebastian stared after you, unmoving.

It took him a full five seconds to realize he was still standing there, completely useless, thoughts looping in an endless, embarrassing cycle.

And then, as if his day couldn’t get any worse—

A voice drawled behind him.

“Well. That was painful to listen to.”

Sebastian whipped around.

Ominis stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his usual neutral expression tinged with something suspiciously close to amusement.

Sebastian groaned, dragging both hands down his face as he stumbled toward the nearest bench and all but collapsed onto it. He slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the ground as if he could will himself out of existence.

Ominis, still wearing that annoyingly neutral expression, walked over at a much more measured pace and lowered himself onto the bench beside him.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “I don’t get it.”

Ominis hummed, tilting his head slightly. “That’s hardly a surprise.”

Sebastian scowled at him. “I mean her.” He gestured vaguely toward the exit, where you had disappeared moments ago, completely unbothered by what should have been a catastrophic situation.

“She’s amused,” Sebastian muttered, half to himself. “She’s enjoying this. Why?”

Ominis considered for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “Well,” he said, his voice slow, patient—annoyingly reasonable—“to be fair, you did a terrible job explaining why this is an actual problem.”

Sebastian blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

Ominis turned his head toward him, a single brow arching. “Think about it. You just ambushed her out of nowhere, looking like a deranged madman, started rambling about Black and improper behavior, and then, instead of clearly conveying the very real threat to your future, you panicked so hard that you practically proposed to her.”

Sebastian groaned again, louder this time. “That is not what happened.”

Ominis smirked slightly. “That is exactly what happened.”

Sebastian waved a hand, desperate to move past that particular humiliation. “Fine, whatever. But she should still be worried. Black is onto us. He’s already talking about arranged marriages—”

“Is he?” Ominis interrupted, ever-so-slightly skeptical.

Sebastian gawked at him. “You were there! You heard him!”

Ominis inclined his head slightly. “I was there, yes. But let’s be rational about this, Sebastian.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Oh, great, here comes the ‘rational’ lecture.”

“You and her have been sneaking off together, and to the best of your knowledge, no one has caught you. And then, suddenly, Black of all people, corners you, accuses you, and starts spewing about ‘respectable arrangements’ without a shred of actual proof."

Sebastian frowned. “What's your point?"

Ominis tilted his head slightly, replaying the conversation in his mind. “I mean that Phineas Nigellus Black has never once given a single damn about student affairs. Not once in the years we’ve been here. He barely even tolerates his job as it is. And yet today he suddenly decides to take a keen interest in your extracurricular activities? And not just an interest, but one so pressing that he practically corners you in broad daylight and starts talking about marriage?”

Sebastian frowned deeper, his hands resting on his knees. He hated to admit it, but… Ominis had a point.

“That does seem… uncharacteristically involved of him,” Sebastian admitted, chewing his lip.

Ominis nodded once. “Exactly. It’s suspicious.”

Sebastian shook his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. But maybe—maybe, I don't know, maybe Garreth ran his mouth in the vicinity of a Professor and it got back to Black?”

Ominis considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “If that were the case, it still wouldn’t explain his reaction. He’d have let that Professor handle it, or sent you a warning through a letter—he wouldn’t waste time personally terrorizing you.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply. “So what are you saying, then?”

Ominis’ brows furrowed slightly. “I’m saying something about this doesn’t make sense.

Sebastian frowned. “Maybe not, but he is an odd man. Who knows what goes on in his head.”

Ominis was silent for a long moment, then—slowly, so slowly—his lips curved into something dangerously close to amusement.

“Oh, this is good,” he murmured, tilting his head as though savoring the realization.

Sebastian snapped his head toward him. “Excuse me?”

Ominis let out a short breath—not quite a laugh, but something suspiciously close. “Oh, come now, Sebastian. Think about it. There’s no way it was actually Black. He knew far too much about the specific details of your late night rendezvous. The only logical conclusion is that someone must have impersonated Black. Someone who knows you. Obviously one of our friends went through the absolute ordeal of brewing a Polyjuice Potion just to terrorize you.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “He did know a lot about where precisely we’ve snuck off to… the library, hidden alcoves...”

“Exactly,” Ominis said, clearly entertained.

Sebastian growled in frustration, pushing off the bench to stand. His blood was boiling. Ominis was right.

The fucking audacity.

His mind raced, already running through the short list of people who were both deranged enough and competent enough to pull this off.

And one name immediately shot to the top of his list.

“Garreth.”

Ominis, still looking entirely too pleased, lifted a brow. “Hmm?”

“It’s got to be Garreth.”

Ominis exhaled, leaning back slightly against the bench. “And what, exactly, makes you so certain?”

Sebastian threw out a hand. “Are you kidding? He’s been up my arse all week, badgering me for details about—” He cut himself off.

Ominis smirked. “About?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth. “About… things.”

Ominis’ smirk deepened. “Oh, I’m well aware of your things, Sebastian.”

Sebastian groaned. “Shut up.”

Ominis hummed, utterly unbothered.

Sebastian paced in front of him, hands in his hair, his entire body tense with fury.

“I’ve been telling him way too much,” Sebastian muttered, seething. “I knew I shouldn’t have let my guard down. But he kept asking, and I figured, what’s the harm? It’s not like he’d—”

He stopped short, realization hitting him like a brick.

“…Wait.” Sebastian’s eyes widened. “That absolute MENACE.”

Ominis lifted a brow. “What?”

Sebastian turned back to him, looking truly unhinged now. “He’s been gloating about a new potion all week.”

Ominis’ smirk vanished.

Sebastian pointed at him, vicious with victory. “He said—and I quote—‘Oh, it’s a special project. I’ll tell you about it when the time is right.’”

Ominis actually winced. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Sebastian mimicked, mocking. “Oh? Yeah, Ominis, oh. The bastard’s been cooking up a Polyjuice Potion for weeks, and I didn’t even see it. I played right into his hands. Merlin’s beard.”

Ominis considered this for a moment. Then: “That’s… actually quite impressive.”

Sebastian nearly exploded.

“DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM!”

Ominis snorted. “Oh, come on. You have to admit—it’s kind of brilliant.”

Sebastian whirled back around, pacing furiously. “I’m going to kill him.”

Ominis chuckled.

“No, I’m serious,” Sebastian hissed. “I am going to personally, violently, and enthusiastically end Garreth Weasley’s entire bloodline.”

Ominis shook his head, but he was clearly entertained.

Sebastian’s mind was already racing with vengeance. Garreth wanted to play games? Fine. Sebastian would play. And Garreth Weasley was about to regret every single life choice that had led him to this moment.

Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black had many regrets in life.

Taking the position as Headmaster of this cursed institution was certainly among them.

There were only so many years a man could tolerate insufferable teenagers, incompetent professors, and Ministry interference before he began to wonder whether he had been cursed by some malevolent higher power.

And now—now—on top of it all, he had to deal with this.

He had been enduring—not enjoying, enduring—his evening tea in his office when Professor Sharp casually mentioned something that instantly ruined his entire day.

“So. About this marriage arrangement of yours.”

Black had, understandably, nearly choked to death on his own tea.

Sharp, ever unbothered, merely watched him struggle, raising a single brow in mild disinterest.

Black coughed violently, pounding a fist against his chest, before spluttering, “My WHAT?”

Sharp had the audacity to look unimpressed.

“I assumed it was a joke,” he said, calm as ever. “But it’s already making the rounds among the students, so I thought I’d ask before it reaches the parents.”

Black stared at him. It took an impressive amount of effort for him not to throw something.

“…Please explain,” he said through gritted teeth.

Sharp tilted his head. “There’s a rumor circulating that you threatened Sebastian Sallow with an arranged marriage.”

Black froze. The words did not compute.

“What.”

Sharp, utterly unconcerned, took a sip of his tea. “Something about improper behavior, a scandal, and the need for a ‘respectable arrangement.’”

Black’s eye twitched.

“Why,” he began, voice tight, “would I ever, in any universe, concern myself with the sordid affairs of adolescent imbeciles?”

Sharp exhaled, as if he, too, was burdened by the weight of other people’s idiocy.

“That,” he said, setting his tea down, “is an excellent question.”

Black rubbed his temples. He had much better things to do than play wedding officiant to a bunch of lovesick idiots. Which meant someone—some absolute fool—had used his name in vain.

And Black was going to find out who.

“Summon Weasley,” he snapped.

Sharp inclined his head. “Garreth or Matilda?”

Black paused. Then, slowly, a deep sense of dread filled him.

“…Both,” he muttered.

And thus, his investigation began.

Garreth Weasley was about to have a very bad day.

He just didn’t know it yet.

Currently, he was completely at ease, perched on the edge of a courtyard fountain, chatting animatedly with a group of Hufflepuffs. His hands were moving wildly, eyes bright with mischief, completely unaware that his life expectancy had just significantly shortened.

Because Sebastian Sallow was on the warpath.

With Ominis reluctantly trailing behind him, Sebastian marched across the courtyard, his eyes locked onto his target like a predator about to tear its prey to shreds.

“Garreth Weasley!”

The Hufflepuffs startled.

Garreth turned his head, blinking in surprise as Sebastian stormed toward him, seething with righteous fury.

“Ah, Sebastian,” Garreth greeted, flashing his usual easy grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sebastian didn’t stop until he was right in front of him, glaring so hard it was a miracle Garreth’s hair didn’t catch fire on the spot.

“You know damn well why,” Sebastian growled.

Garreth blinked. “...I don’t, actually.”

Sebastian leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “Drop the act, Weasley. We know.”

Garreth, to his credit, didn’t falter.

“Know what, exactly?” he asked, tilting his head.

Sebastian scoffed. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You used a Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Black and humiliate me,” he snapped. “Admit it.”

Garreth’s brows lifted. “I did what?”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Oh, don’t.”

“I’m serious,” Garreth said, now actually looking intrigued. “Someone turned into Black? That’s brilliant.”

Sebastian made a noise that was not human.

Ominis sighed. “Garreth, please. Just confess so Sebastian doesn’t do something regrettable.”

Garreth scoffed. “You think I’d waste a whole month on a potion just to mess with Sallow?”

Sebastian’s eye twitched.

“YES.”

Garreth paused. “…Okay, fair. But I didn’t.”

Sebastian stabbed a finger into his chest. “You’ve been asking questions, Weasley. About—about my, my nightly... routine. And— and gloating about a special potion.”

Garreth looked entirely too delighted. “Wait, someone impersonated Black and then they interrogated you about your sex life?”

Sebastian’s rage doubled. “I’m going to strangle you.”

Ominis rubbed his temples. “Sebastian, perhaps—”

“NO.” Sebastian cut him off, eyes still locked on Garreth. “I am not leaving until this idiot admits—”

“Mr. Sallow.”

A new voice. One that sent an icy chill down all their spines.

Sebastian turned slowly.

There, standing just a few feet away, expression unreadable, was Professor Sharp, and beside him, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, was Professor Weasley.

Then, after a long pause, Sharp spoke.

“Well,” he said dryly, eyes flicking between them. “It seems you’ve come to the same conclusion as the Headmaster regarding who exactly impersonated him this morning.”

Sebastian froze.

Sharp’s gaze shifted.

To Garreth.

The Gryffindor, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, suddenly looked deeply alarmed.

“What?” he said, blinking rapidly. “No, no, no. I didn’t—”

Professor Weasley let out a heavy sigh. “Garreth.”

Garreth turned to her, eyes wide with betrayal. “Aunt Matilda, I swear, I did not—”

“We’ll discuss it in the Headmaster’s office,” she said firmly.

Garreth’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?! I had nothing to do with this!”

Professor Weasley exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Garreth, it’s always you.”

Garreth threw out his arms. “That’s unfair!”

Sharp arched a brow. “Is it?”

Garreth opened his mouth, paused, then scowled.

“…A little,” he muttered.

Professor Weasley stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Garreth’s shoulder.

“Come along,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Garreth whirled on Sebastian. “I hope you’re happy, Sallow!”

Sebastian blinked. Was he happy? Garreth was being dragged away, right in front of him. He should have felt vindicated. Should have felt relief.

Instead—

There was a deep, sinking dread curling in his stomach.

Because Garreth’s arrest was not the problem. The problem was the real Headmaster now knew about all of this.

And Sebastian was still very, very screwed.

As Garreth was pulled away, still pleading his case, Sebastian stood there, motionless, watching his chance at containment disappear before his eyes.

Ominis let out a slow breath.

“Well,” he murmured. “That didn’t help at all, did it?”

Sebastian’s stomach churned.

“…No.”

No, it did not.

And little did Sebastian and Ominis know, you had been listening the entire time.

And it was glorious.

You had been casually passing through the courtyard—entirely innocent, of course—when you had spotted Sebastian storming toward Garreth like a vengeful wraith.

Naturally, you had done the only reasonable thing and tucked yourself behind a nearby pillar to observe.

And Merlin’s beard, was it worth it.

Sebastian, red-faced and seething, had all but shoved his accusations down Garreth’s throat.

Garreth had been just as bewildered as expected.

And Ominis? Ominis had just stood there, his entire existence radiating exasperation.

You’d had to bite your knuckles to keep from laughing.

Then came the real highlight—Professor Sharp and Weasley arriving just in time to drag Garreth away.

And Sebastian? He wasn’t relieved.

Oh, no.

If anything, he looked even more panicked, and you had to physically restrain yourself from cackling out loud.

As the crowd dispersed and Sebastian muttered something about heading to the Undercroft, your mind was already racing.

You had one last dose of Polyjuice Potion.

And you were going to use it well.

Sebastian and Ominis walked briskly through the halls, heading toward the passage that would take them to the Undercroft.

Sebastian was still fuming.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered under his breath. "What if the real Black actually agrees with Garreth’s idiotic ramblings and—"

Ominis exhaled sharply. “Sebastian, I highly doubt the Headmaster is actually considering an arranged marriage for you.”

Sebastian threw out his hands. “Are you sure? Because I’M NOT.”

Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. “For the last time, Black does not care.”

“You don’t know that,” Sebastian shot back. “What if he decides to make an example of me? What if this turns into some grand moral statement about propriety?”

Ominis snorted. “Phineas Nigellus Black making a moral statement? That would imply he had morals to begin with.”

Sebastian hesitated. “…Okay, fair. But still—”

A voice cut through the corridor.

“Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian stopped dead.

Ominis visibly tensed.

Both of them turned.

There, standing at the end of the corridor, arms folded behind his back, expression severe, was Headmaster Black.

Or at least, who they assumed was Black.

Sebastian felt every last ounce of his blood drain from his face as the Headmaster took slow, deliberate steps toward them, gaze piercing.

“I have been informed,” he said, voice low and authoritative, “that you took justice into your own hands this afternoon.”

Sebastian’s stomach plummeted.

Ominis stood unnaturally still, as if movement might invite further scrutiny.

“That is—” Sebastian stammered, “I was just—”

Black lifted a hand.

Sebastian shut up.

“As I was saying,” the Headmaster continued, voice measured, “It is not your place, Mr. Sallow, to interrogate your peers. Confronting Mr. Weasley? Threatening him in front of witnesses?”

Sebastian’s blood ran cold.

“That’s not—I didn’t threaten him, I just—”

Black tilted his chin downward.

Sebastian closed his mouth.

“Since you are so concerned with matters of conduct and discretion,” Black continued, “I think it only fitting that you learn about them properly.”

Sebastian blinked.

“Sir?”

“You will come with me to Professor Ronen’s office,” Black declared, “where you will complete a ten-foot essay on—”

Sebastian braced himself.

“—Why One Must Be Discreet in Matters of the Heart.”

Sebastian stared.

Ominis made an awful noise, half-choking, half-suppressing a laugh.

Sebastian’s brain shut down.

“What.”

Black did not waver.

“You heard me, Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian gawked at him. “You—you cannot be serious.”

“I am always serious.” Black’s voice brooked no argument.

Sebastian sputtered. “Sir, this is completely unnecessary—”

“Oh?” Black arched a brow. “Would you rather I speak with Professor Weasley about additional disciplinary measures?”

Sebastian shut his mouth.

Black smirked.

“Good,” he said crisply. “Now, off we go.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, threw one last murderous look over his shoulder at a still-chuckling Ominis, and stalked off after Professor Black, who continued his merciless monologue.

“…lack of discretion, lack of foresight, lack of even the most basic self-preservation instincts,” Black droned, his tone a perfect balance of condescension and boredom.

Sebastian gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

Black didn’t even acknowledge the response. “One might assume, given your track record, that you would at least attempt to be subtle in your misdeeds.”

Sebastian barely resisted the urge to fling himself out of the nearest window.

“Yes, sir.”

Black sighed. “And yet, instead of exercising the tiniest sliver of caution, you took it upon yourself to corner a fellow student and create a spectacle of your impropriety.”

Sebastian’s eye twitched.

“Yes, sir.”

Black hummed, as though unimpressed. “Honestly, Sallow, I don’t know whether to be more appalled by your recklessness or by your utter incompetence in getting away with it.”

“Yes. Sir.”

By the time they reached Professor Ronen’s office, Sebastian was seething.

Black didn’t even bother knocking. He simply swept inside, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and gestured for Sebastian to enter.

Sebastian dragged his feet as he stepped inside, his mood absolutely foul.

Professor Abraham Ronen looked up from his desk, his ever-cheerful expression brightening further as he spotted them.

“Ah, Headmaster!” he greeted, standing swiftly. “And Mr. Sallow. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“I require your assistance, Professor Ronen,” Black said smoothly, stepping into the room with the air of a man who had never known shame in his life. “Mr. Sallow has demonstrated a profound inability to conduct himself with even the faintest whisper of discretion.”

Sebastian wanted to melt into the floor.

Ronen’s brows lifted slightly. “Discretion, sir?”

Black sighed dramatically, as if personally burdened by Sebastian’s existence.

“Yes,” he said. “You see, I have taken it upon myself to educate young Sallow in the ways of proper decorum.”

Sebastian scowled. “That is not what happened.”

Black lifted a hand. “Did I give you permission to speak?”

Sebastian’s fury burned hotter. “No, but—”

“Then don’t.”

Sebastian bit his tongue so hard he nearly drew blood.

Ronen tilted his head, clearly amused. “And what exactly does this… education entail, Headmaster?”

“I am assigning Mr. Sallow a ten-foot essay,” Black said blandly, as if discussing the weather, “on Why One Must Be Discreet in Matters of the Heart.”

Ronen blinked.

Sebastian wanted to die.

“I would like you to supervise, Professor,” Black continued smoothly, “to ensure that Mr. Sallow completes his work with the appropriate level of… humility.”

Sebastian felt himself short-circuit.

Ronen was trying very, very hard not to laugh. “Oh, I would be honored.”

Sebastian whirled on Black, aghast. “Sir, please—”

Black lifted a hand.

Sebastian shut his mouth.

Black smirked.

“Good. Now, I expect this to be completed by this evening. Professor Ronen will be responsible for ensuring its quality, and I will personally review it myself.”

Sebastian groaned audibly.

Black tilted his head. “Was that a complaint, Mr. Sallow?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth. “No, sir.”

“Excellent.”

Black turned on his heel, his robes sweeping dramatically behind him as he made his exit.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Ronen let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“Well,” he said cheerfully. “This is easily the highlight of my week.”

Sebastian glared daggers at him.

Ronen just chuckled.

“Now, now, Mr. Sallow,” he said, far too pleased with himself. “Take a seat.”

Sebastian huffed angrily and collapsed into the chair, arms crossed like a petulant child.

Ronen leaned against his desk, grinning. “So,” he mused. “Matters of the heart, hmm?”

Sebastian had never felt more humiliated in his life.

Which was saying something, considering he’d spent the entire day careening from one public disaster to another.

Late that night, you sat cross-legged on one of the worn couches in the Undercroft, a book balanced on your lap, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever passage your eyes were lazily skimming. Across from you, Ominis sat in his usual chair, his own book in hand, posture relaxed.

The two of you had settled into companionable silence, save for the occasional turn of a page and the steady sound of the flickering torches along the stone walls.

He had, of course, informed you—thinking you had no idea—that Sebastian had been assigned detention.

Though he had spared the details, he had smirked slightly as he’d said, “I’m sure we’ll both get an earful about it later.”

And oh, how right he was.

Sebastian was going to be livid. And you were going to have to try very, very hard to look appropriately concerned.

The entrance finally creaked open.

A familiar set of footsteps echoed through the stone chamber.

You looked up and nearly lost it.

Sebastian stood in the archway, fuming. His hair was a mess. His robes were askew. And his hands—oh, his hands—

You had expected anger. You had not expected him to look like he had crawled out of an ink well after fighting for his life.

Ominis, still not looking up from his book, greeted him far too calmly. “Sebastian.”

“I,” he seethed, glaring at nothing in particular, “am going to kill Phineas Nigellus Black.”

Ominis exhaled heavily, not even looking up from his book. “That seems excessive.”

Sebastian ignored him. He threw himself onto the couch beside you, huffing furiously. You had never seen him so pissed off. It was glorious.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Instead, you blinked at him, feigning concern.

“Rough night?”

Sebastian turned his scathing glare on you.

Oh, it took everything in you not to crack.

“I had to write,” he growled, slamming a fist onto the armrest, “a TEN-FOOT ESSAY.”

You blinked innocently. “Oh?”

Sebastian threw up his hands. Ink smudged across his face.

“It was absolute TORTURE,” he ranted, pacing now, gesturing wildly. “Ronen wouldn’t let me leave until he was satisfied with it—AND I HAD TO READ IT ALOUD.”

Ominis inhaled sharply. Your lips twitched.

Then.

Ominis broke. The laugh that tore out of him was far louder than you had expected, his usually composed demeanor utterly shattering.

And now, with Sebastian’s utter misery in front of you, with Ominis losing his composure entirely, you couldn’t stop the wheeze that escaped, followed by absolute uncontrolled laughter.

It burst out of you before you could stop it, filling the Undercroft, your entire body shaking with mirth.

Sebastian whipped around, eyes wild with betrayal.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING?!”

You tried—oh, you tried—to compose yourself. But every time you thought you had it under control, you caught sight of Sebastian’s ink-stained hands, his utterly ruined dignity, the absolute rage burning in his eyes—

And you lost it all over again.

Ominis, already a goner, was curled forward, clutching his stomach, his laughter echoing off the stone walls.

Sebastian scowled so hard it could have cracked the very foundation of Hogwarts.

“You think this is FUNNY?” he barked, crossing his arms.

You gasped for breath, wiping at your eyes. “No—no, of course not.”

Sebastian glared. “Liar.”

You bit your lip, still grinning. “It’s just… I’m so sorry, Sebastian,” you said, completely unconvincing.

He jabbed a finger at you. “No, you’re not.”

You shrugged, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. “Maybe a little.”

Sebastian groaned, dragging both hands down his face.

"It's—it's just—imagining your reading it aloud," you inhaled sharply as if you were dying for oxygen, "Matters of the Heart—"

You dissolved into laughter again, but Sebastian froze.

Stared.

Blinked.

Looked at his hands.

Then looked at you.

Then back at his hands.

Realization dawned on you. The laughter immediately died in your throat.

Fuck.

"I didn't tell you what the essay was about," Sebastian said slowly,

Your brain short-circuited.

Lie. Lie, quickly.

“Oh—uh—” You scrambled for an excuse. “I mean, it was—it was obvious, wasn’t it? What else would Black make you write about?”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened.

Ominis exhaled sharply. “Oh,” he murmured, realization dawning.

You clenched your fists. Shit.

Sebastian leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something smooth, silky, utterly lethal.

“You knew.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A verdict. A sentence.

You forced out an awkward chuckle. “Sebastian, come on—”

“You knew,” he repeated, glaring. "How did you know?"

Ominis made a noise of delighted horror. “Oh, this is about to be so good.”

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was too sharp. Too quick. He was already piecing it together—his expression shifting from betrayal to slow, creeping realization.

“How did you know?” he demanded.

You sunk back into the cushions, hands raised in a feeble attempt at innocence.

“Sebastian—”

His brow furrowed. His eyes narrowed. And then, softly, dangerously—

“…It was you.”

Your breath caught.

Sebastian stilled.

Ominis gasped.

And then—

“IT WAS YOU!”

He knew.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Your body tensed, preparing to run.

Sebastian saw it.

"YOU LITTLE MENACE!"

You yelped, narrowly missing his outstretched hand as you flew over the sofa.

“SEBASTIAN—WAIT—”

“NO.” He vaulted over the couch in pursuit. “YOU’RE DEAD.”

You sprinted, dodging past Ominis's chair, laughing too hard to breathe.

“You absolute menace!” Sebastian shouted, nearly grabbing your wrist. “YOU MADE ME THINK I WAS GETTING MARRIED.”

You shrieked with laughter. “It was a joke—”

“A JOKE?!”

You ducked behind a column, barely missing Sebastian’s grasp.

“Sebastian, listen—”

“NO.” He vaulted over the sofa, closing the gap. “I AM GOING TO KILL YOU.”

“I CAN EXPLAIN—”

“OH, YOU’D BETTER.”

“IT WAS A PRANK—”

Ominis, now fully invested, wiped tears from his eyes. “I have never been happier.”

Sebastian rounded the pillar. You darted left. He anticipated it. He grabbed at your wrist—

And this time, he caught you.

Momentum dragged both of you down, and you landed hard on the floor, pinned beneath him.

Your chest heaved from laughing too hard.

Sebastian, equally breathless, stared down at you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The Undercroft was too quiet now.

You felt the weight of him, the warmth of his hands wrapped around your wrists, pressing into the floor on either side of you.

“…You’re in so much trouble,” he muttered, but his voice had dropping lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched. You weren’t laughing anymore.

Ominis, who had been utterly entertained up until now, cleared his throat loudly.

“Right,” he said flatly, dragging his hand down his face before heading to the door. “This is officially no longer my business.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed.

Sebastian’s fingers tightened.

Oh.

Oh, you were so screwed.

[desideriumwriter]

Could you write something about Hufflepuff reader studying late in the library and she realizes she has to get back to her common room before curfew. As she’s walking back Fred finds her, walks her back to her common room while flirting and talking about random things. Just something sweet and cute. Thanks love 💗💗💗

this is suchhhhh an adorable idea!! a fun one to write too! tysm for the request!! <3

wc: 1.4k

f.w. masterlist | navi

The sun was still in the sky when you entered the library to study peacefully. Various classes had slapped you with an array of tests planned this week and you felt like a bundle of nerves.

So, you chose somewhere you knew there’d be no disturbances or noise to pull your attention from your books.

The sun had completely set now, the sky outside was black. You were probably one of the only people left in the library.

It was just you, several textbooks, notes sprawled across the desk you were sitting at, and the sound of the clock ticking.

You let out a heavy breath and flipped the page of your Potions textbook. Before beginning to read over the next section, you took a look at the clock on the wall.

9:47 PM.

You had less than fifteen minutes before curfew. Maybe you could finish this next page, maybe you could start heading back to your common room.

The walk back wasn’t terribly far, but you should probably start going now if you wanted to get there before the curfew bell rang.

Rubbing your eyes and gathering your things, you quietly began on your path back to your common room.

Turning the corner down one corridor, you ended up a bit behind a tall, ginger-haired, Gryffindor boy.

It didn’t take long for him to realize you were there, he looked behind him, looked back, then did a double take.

“Merlin, you scared me. I didn’t even notice you were behind me.” He halted.

“I know you.” You stopped and narrowed your eyes at the freckled boy.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, you nodded. “Is that a good thing?” He took a few tiny slow steps towards you.

“You're the one who set off all those fireworks off on the train home last year.” You stated, Fred winced.

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing. Most kids found that end of the year prank funny, until the express was stopped for nearly an hour.

“I’m one half of it.” Fred said, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve got a brother. We er…set them off together.” He explained when he noticed your puzzled staring.

He watched nervously as your face lit up in realization.

“The twins!” You pointed, “You both tried to put your names in the Goblet the other week!”

“Oh no, you heard about that too?” He let out a nervous laugh, hoping you wouldn't see the blush seeping across his cheeks.

Fred didn’t understand why he felt so flustered, he thought the incident was hilarious himself. But you were a stranger, a pretty stranger too.

“I witnessed it.” You tried to bite back any more laughter. “You had quite a mighty beard there.”

“Reckon it was better than Dumbledore's?” He brushed his fingers through his long hair.

“I’ll say you’ll be able to pull it off when you're a hundred years old.” You shrugged. “I’m assuming you’re Fred?” You guessed as you two began to walk side by side.

“I’m George.” He lied, no matter how many times he’s done it, he’s never got tired of pretending to be his twin just to mess with people. You nodded embarrassedly and looked at the ground, a twinge of guilt suddenly hit him.

“I’m kidding. I’m not George. I don’t know why I said that.” He stammered and shook his head, “You were right the first time. I am Fred.” You glanced back at him and gave him the sweetest smile. He felt like he could melt right into the floor.

“Well then, Fred, where are you coming back from?” You lifted your chin at him in a playful manner.

“Detention with Filch.” He sighed, you grimaced.

“Uck. Did they punish you because you tried to outsmart the age line?”

“Oh no, no. Being stuck in those stiff hospital beds felt like a punishment itself.” He scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyways, I got caught trying to steal ingredients from Madam Pomfreys cabinets.”

“Oh?” You let out a breathy chuckle.

And what about you? Where are you coming back from

“Just the library, I have a test in Potions tomorrow. I decided I should just try and cram in whatever knowledge I could.” You cringed at the way you began to ramble. While pushing open one of the kitchen doors it was impossible to miss Freds large frame moving in front of you to hold it open for you.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to the Gryffindor tower?” You said half-jokingly as you walked into the kitchen.

“I wanted to steal a pastry from here before I went there. Shouldn’t you be getting back to yours?” He poked.

“I am, I’ve been on my way back to the basement this entire time.” You crossed your arms playfully. His smile dropped and his brows knit together.

“Basement? Your dorm is in the basement?” Fred’s face scrunched up. You just let out a small mhm and nodded, pointing to the entrance hidden behind a stack of barrels at the end of the room.

He had to tilt his head a bit to the side to see the round door hiding behind the pile of wooden barrels.

“Seems a bit crummy to put a common room down there.” Fred said flatly, yet still looking displeased at the fact your dorms would be where the dungeons also are.

“I think it’s the coziest place in the entire castle.” You shrugged; Fred let out a small noise of disagreement.

“Eh, the Gryffindor tower is the coziest. We can put Hufflepuff as a not-very-close second, yeah?” He grinned at you.

“I say you’re wrong on that.” You hummed as you tried to bite back your smile, you failed.

“Yeah? You can come see for yourself! I’ll let you have a visit and see how wrong you are!” He teased, nudging at you with a playful sparkle in his eyes. You could feel your face heat up at how his voice sounded so much flirtier than a second ago. You just prayed he wouldn’t see it. To prevent him from seeing you in your blushing state, you swiftly stepped up to the barrels.

“Er, you should probably stand back a bit.” You pointed, Freds brows knit together in confusion as he looked at the ground and back up at you.

“It…sprays you if you get the code wrong, and there's already been a few times where I’ve messed up the pattern.” You explained, Fred only nodded and took a few steps back.

You tapped the barrels in the correct rhythm and stepped back once the door began to open slowly.

From the glimpse Fred got of the Hufflepuff common room, maybe you were right. The uncountable number of plants and warm glow of the room made it look like one of the most comforting places he’s ever seen.

“It was really nice talking to you.” You told Fred as you stepped inside. “Goodnight.”

"You said you had a test in potions tomorrow, right?" Fred pipped; you stopped the door from closing with your hand.

"Yeah, we have to make a certain one by memory."

“Perfect, I've got just the thing…” He said as he dug into one of his robe pockets. “If you're not sure you made yours correctly, try and sprinkle some of this in. It’ll help.” He pulled out an extremely small sack, filled with sparkly purple powder and dropped it into your hand.

“It won’t make my cauldron explode?” You teased, knowing of him and his twins' history of blowing up the school toilets.

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Even with that little smile on his face, you could tell he was actually being truthful.

“Awesome, thanks.” You grinned again, looking down and beginning to move away from the door.

Fred called out your name one more time, blocking the door from closing with his foot.

“I’ll probably be back here tomorrow night, if you’d like to chat some more?” His voice had gotten so quiet, there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d really like that.” There you went again, with that sickeningly sweet smile. “‘Night, Fred.”

“‘Night.” Fred left the kitchen with a stomach full of fluttering butterflies and a grin on his face. He didn’t even bother to steal any pastries on the way out, he was too busy being excited for tomorrow night.

tell me what you thought!

[wingedhallows]

"i'm older than you think." ; sirius black

pairing: sirius x reader | 1k words plot: Sirius is taken aback that you're actually older than you look. prompt: "I'm older than you think." authors note: just a little something that came to me some nights ago.

navigation

The Black’s family home was lively, more than what you expected. Two redheads rushed past you as you brought a hand through your hair. The strong wind had messed with it. 

“Get back here you two!” a woman, also with red hair, yelled after them.

“Oh, hello, dear.” she spoke, her voice gentler.”Hello.” You answered. “Y/N, there you are.” Tonks' voice came from behind the red headed woman. A small smile spread on your face as your friend approached. “For a moment I thought you wouldn’t come, come on.” 

She engulfed you in a hug and rubbed your back in a comforting manner. With an iron grip, she dragged you into the kitchen. “I didn’t know we would have another guest, here, let me fetch another set for you.” The woman chuckled as she pushed past you two. “No need-”Don’t try, that’s Molly Weasly, just eat.” Tonks laughed as she pulled you through the door.

Around the big kitchen table sat a few more red heads, some teenagers and adults.

“Everyone, this is Y/N L/N. She’s one of the greatest Aurors I know and hopefully, after tonight, a member of the Order.” Tonks announced, a comforting hand on your shoulder as she pushed you towards the table. A man, curly hair framing his handsome bearded face and a sly smile beaming towards you, held his hand out for you to take. 

"Sirius Black, the owner of this lovely house. I’m glad a more beautiful person is joining us. Nice to meet you, love.” He spoke before he kissed your hand with a grin on his face. A certain heat crept onto your cheeks as you shot him a grin yourself.

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Black. This house is indeed very lovely, so bright and colorful.” You chuckled. His eyebrows shot up and a laugh escaped his mouth. 

“And she’s got humor, merlin.”

“Holy, get a room.” Tonks spat with widened eyes. She grabbed your arm and pushed you down onto a chair. “Here you go.” Molly grabbed your shoulder and placed a bowl of food in front of you. Without another word of refusal you ate what Molly had given you. You didn’t miss the many times Sirius had glanced your way.

After the meeting and your agreement to join the Order and help Harry Potter, Sirius’ godson, to help defeat Lord Voldemort, Remus Lupin had asked for another drink and you agreed to stay. Harry and his friends had gone upstairs an hour ago claiming to go to bed, though you believed otherwise. Sirius had seated himself across from you.

“So, you’re an Auror?” with a sip from your cup you nodded. “I became one right after graduation, I’ve been one ever since.” You shot him a smile and reached for your pack of cigarettes. 

With a small smile on your face you held out the pack for him. “Want one?” he shot you a smile and nodded his head. “I’d love one.” you chuckled. After lighting your stick you leaned over the table to light his. His eyes widened as you came closer as expected.

“As an Auror, you must be in grave danger.” He spoke. It was only you two, the others were immersed in their own conversations.

“It’s always dangerous, feels nearer than it did last time though.” His eyebrows furrowed and he chuckled as he blew some more smoke from his lips. You did the same. “Last time?” you nodded and took another sip from your cup.

“The first war?” You tried, he didn’t get it though.

“What would you know of the first war? You’re barely an adult, we all know Tonks’ hardly one.” He stomped out his cigarette and without a warning a laugh escaped you. “Oh, merlin.” You heaved, wiping the non existing tears.

“What’s so funny?” he spoke, a unsure smirk on his face. “Mr. Black-” you had to laugh again.  “This is truly hilarious.” you paused

“I’m older than you think.” you took a sip from your cup and a big smile spread on your face once again. 

“What?” he managed to say, the cup of firewhiskey in front of him long forgotten. You lit yourself another cigarette and gave him a smile.

“We went to Hogwarts around the same time, I think.” you paused and his eyebrows furrowed once again. “You were a fourth or fifth year. I mean who could ever forget the great and mighty Marauders?” His mouth had opened in disbelief.

“I’m almost ten years older than your cousin.” you whispered.

“So-”Yes, I’m almost as old as you, so.” He shook his head and stood from the table. With his cup in hand he made his way next to you.

“Well, forgive me, darling. You look hardly a day over twenty.” You had to laugh again and shook your head.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Black.” he clasped your hand in his and gave you another smile. “Please call me Sirius, love.” you nodded and took another sip of your drink.

“And since the Firewhiskey is slowly loosening my tongue, I believe that I do not feel ashamed to say that I'm slowly starting to fancy you, Y/N.” you stopped yourself from laughing and nodded at him.

“I’m afraid, me too.” A wide smile spread on his face as he came close.

“Good, then I get to do this.” with a hand on your cheek he came closer. His warm lips connected with yours and with almost rehearsed movements you kissed. Your hand found the back of his head, the other sat on his neck.

 “Ew, you two.” Tonks spat and Remus had to laugh at the sight of you two.

“Definitely hardly an adult.” Sirius chuckled.

You two were out of breath as you rested your head in the crook of his neck with a grin on your face.

[yua0ra]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

WARNINGS: mattheo riddle x teasing!fem!reader, kissing, annoyed matty, unserious, a whole lot of teasing, mattheo’s pov, open ending (not a bad ending though). SFW. not proofread. english is not my first language | miscellaneous ☆

SUMMARY: In the quiet corners of the library, Mattheo Riddle finds his carefully crafted world of solitude disturbed by you; teasing, persistent, and impossibly close. As playful banter turns into an unexpected confrontation, what begins as frustration quickly unravels into something deeper. Surrounded by books and silence, neither of you can deny the undeniable tension building between the two of you. But with secrets lurking in the quiet and a growing attraction neither can ignore, the library might be the least safe place to keep your distance.

WC: +1.5K AN: this is my very first writing blog! please be kind and if there’s any errors, feel free to point them out <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It was Friday afternoon and Mattheo was, for lack of a better word, annoyed. The tapping of his pen against the wooden desk echoed in the otherwise silent library, a steady reminder of his mounting frustration. He’d reread the same paragraph at least five times now, the words blurring together into an unhelpful mess.

It wasn’t the subject matter that irritated him, he could handle Defense Against the Dark Arts with ease. No, it was the unmistakable laughter drifting from the other side of the room, soft but persistent, pulling his focus away like an irresistibly irritating charm.

He glanced up, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the disturbance. Of course, it was you. Sitting prettily with a group of friends, comfy clothes and a fluffy blanket draped over your frame and your head thrown back in laughter as though the library wasn’t meant for quiet study but for socializing. Not that he had never done that with his own friends, just… the one time he comes to the library to study, he can’t even finish reading a stupid paragraph.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, turning back to his book. But it was easier said than done. Mattheo tried to drown out the laughter by diving back into his notes, scribbling down something, anything, that looked like progress. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the sound seemed to follow him, growing louder in his mind.

“Merlin’s beard” he exhaled sharply, slamming his pen down onto the desk. That earned him a few annoyed glances from nearby students, but he didn’t care. He had always prided himself on his ability to focus under pressure, but this… this was unbearable.

And then, as if to make matters worse, your gaze met his. Across the room, you caught him looking and tilted your head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at your full lips. Mattheo’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip, one he adamantly chose to ignore.

Quickly, he dropped his gaze back to his book, heat creeping up his neck. “Brilliant,” he muttered under his breath. “Just brilliant.”

But the damage was done. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you whisper something to your friends, and soon enough, you stood up and started walking in his direction.

Mattheo’s fingers curled around the edge of his desk as his brain scrambled for something to say—or some way to disappear entirely. Anything to avoid the confrontation that was now inevitable.

“Hey Riddle, are we… perhaps, bothering you or something?” you asked, your voice dripping with false innocence as you leaned casually against the edge of his desk. “I heard some sighs here and there, so if you have a problem, you’re welcome to voice your concern.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes lifting to meet yours. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression carefully neutral, though the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed him. “A problem?” he repeated, his voice calm but laced with irritation. “No, no problem. Just enjoying the background noise of your… charming social hour.”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, that smirk still playing on your lips. “Charming, huh? I didn’t know you paid attention to me enough to notice.” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s hard not to notice when you’re broadcasting like a damn Howler across the entire library.”

The group of friends you’d left behind stifled a few snickers at his jab, but you didn’t falter. If anything, it seemed to amuse you even more. You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to make it feel like a challenge.

“Well, Mattheo, if you’d rather I leave you alone to brood over your little book there, just say the word. No need to stew in silence like some tragic hero.”

His eyes narrowed at the teasing edge in your voice, and he felt the heat of frustration mingling with something he refused to acknowledge. “Trust me,” he said coolly, “I’ve survived far worse distractions than you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you replied easily, straightening up but keeping your gaze locked on his. “But something tells me this is different.” With that, you turned and walked back to your group, leaving Mattheo with his jaw clenched and his thoughts more scrambled than ever.

- ★、

Mattheo didn’t move for what felt like ages after you returned to your seat. His pen sat forgotten on the desk, his fingers idly brushing over its edge as his mind raced. He told himself it was annoyance, that your relentless teasing and smug little smirk had gotten under his skin. But deep down, he knew better.

You’d been a thorn in his side for weeks now—always a little too sharp with your words, a little too close when you didn’t need to be. And yet, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t cower under his glares or shy away from his sharp remarks. Instead, you leaned in closer, pushing his buttons with a precision that felt maddeningly deliberate.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the curious glances of nearby students. He didn’t have a plan, not really. All he knew was that he couldn’t sit there any longer, stewing in whatever this was.

You noticed him before he even reached your table, the subtle shift in your posture betraying that you’d been watching him too.

“Back so soon?” you asked, a teasing edge in your voice.

Mattheo stopped just short of your group, his jaw tight and his gaze fixed squarely on you. “I’m voicing my concerns,” he said, his voice calm but with a weight that made your friends fall silent.

Your brows lifted in mock surprise. “Oh? This sounds serious.”

“It is.” He glanced at your friends, who were now watching the two of you with undisguised curiosity. “Alone.”

A ripple of anticipation passed through the group, but you merely stood, shrugging as though it were no big deal. “Lead the way, Riddle.”

He guided you toward a quieter corner of the library, the silence between you heavy but charged with something neither of you acknowledged. When he finally stopped, he turned to face you, his expression unreadable.

“Well?” you asked, folding your arms. “What’s this about?”

Mattheo hesitated, the words he’d rehearsed in his head suddenly feeling inadequate. “You… drive me insane,” he said finally, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected confession. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re always there—laughing, teasing, getting in my head. It’s like you enjoy making everything harder than it needs to be.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Maybe I do,” you said softly. “But you’re not exactly innocent in all this, are you?”

His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you said, stepping closer, “you’re not the only one who’s been distracted.”

For a moment, his resolve wavered. You were close now, closer than you’d ever been, and he could see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes that mirrored his own.

“This is dangerous,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Probably,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Neither of you moved, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. It wasn’t dramatic or sudden—it was slow, like the weight of the moment was sinking in for both of you.

Mattheo’s fingers twitched at his sides as if he were holding himself back. “You’re not making this easy,” he muttered.

“And you’re not stopping me,” you countered.

That was all it took. His hand lifted, brushing against yours for just a moment before he let himself take the risk. His touch was hesitant, almost testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, his grip grew firmer.

His forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes searching yours as though he were waiting for a sign. You didn’t say anything, but the soft intake of your breath was enough. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t explosive or rushed. It was careful, deliberate, as though both of you were afraid to break the fragile moment. When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on yours, and for the first time, his usual mask of confidence was gone.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Sure, Riddle,” you said with a small smile. “Whatever you say.”

But the look in his eyes said otherwise.

[singmyaubade]

neeeeeedd finals themed x reader fics rn but i cant find ANYTHINGGGG i just need my fav boys to comfort me while im on my grindset 😞😞😞

hiii! i was a little late to see this request, but i still wanted to write it! hope your finals went super well and that you’re enjoying the break! great work <33

bf!poly!marauders x gf!female!reader

summary: OWL's was truly getting to you but your favorite boys always know how to comfort you.

warnings: pure fluff: kissing, cutesy stuff, just teasing tension

--

OWL's stressing you out was starting to feel like an understatement.

The late nights, the constant ignoring of everything around you, never quite living in the moment… yeah, understatement doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But getting perfect marks wasn’t a want, it was a need.

If you wanted to be an Auror, if you wanted Dumbledore’s reference—passing OWLs with flying colors wasn’t optional. It was a must.

And, unfortunately, everyone else around you seemed to be paying for it.

James had been trying to get you to play Quidditch with him for three days straight. He even promised to buy you that dress you’d been eyeing during your last trip to Hogsmeade. You appreciated the effort but didn't cave.

Not long after, Sirius had tried his own tactic—convincing you to go skinny-dipping in the Black Lake. He even tried to seduce you.

It was worse than James' attempt if you were being honest.

Then Remus—who was usually the one to encourage studying—tried to get you to let him read to you, just so you could get some sleep.

And you wanted to. You really did. But you couldn’t afford distractions—not with the potions section of your notes still untouched.

So, they gave you space. Finally. Or so you thought.

“Hi, my love,” Remus murmured, massaging your shoulders, pulling you from your thoughts. You grinned and leaned up to kiss him.

“Hello,” you chirped, your focus still on scribbling notes.

“Still working hard?” He asked, but his voice was light, full of warmth.

You hummed, nodding in agreement. “Well, I have a surprise for you,” He said, his tone suddenly more serious.

You didn’t really register what he said at first, still lost in your notes. But then, without warning, he gently turned you toward him.

“Darling, I need you to step away from your quill and paper for just a second,” He said, his gaze soft but earnest. You frowned.

“But Remmy, I really need to finish this,” You protested.

He gave you a playful yet exhausted look. “I swear, it’ll still be here. I just want you to see something.”

You sighed and reluctantly set the quill down, giving your notes one last sad look before following him as he gently took your hand and led you out of the library.

“What is this surprise?” You asked, your impatience creeping into your voice.

“You’ll see, my love,” He replied with a soft smile.

“But I really need to study,” You rambled. “Professor Turner is going to mark me down if I mess up the measurements for the ingredients. You know how picky she is.”

Remus chuckled, stopping to look at you with tender amusement. “I swear on Merlin’s beard, you’ll pass. You just need to stop stressing about it so much.”

His hands cupped your face, and he kissed your forehead, making you smile despite yourself.

Soon, you found yourself in the outdoor grassy area, where you could see James and Sirius bickering about something. Remus led you over to a picnic blanket where the two were sitting.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, looking between them.

“Well…” James began, standing up and making his way toward you. “We thought you could use a little stress reliever after all that studying.”

He took your hands in his. “And we wanted to do something nice for you,” He added, a playful glint in his eyes.

You grinned. “Thank you guys,” You said, feeling your heart warm at their thoughtfulness.

“We had to, love,” Sirius chimed in, looking at you with a teasing smirk. “We were worried your pretty little brain was going to overload.”

You giggled and sat down on the blanket next to Remus. The scent of fresh blueberry muffins wafted up, making your stomach rumble.

“I never knew you guys could bake,” You said, eyeing the spread laid out in front of you.

James grinned proudly. “Well, we all make great bakers,” he said. “Remus has precision, I’ve got my luck, and Sirius…”

“Hey! I was moral support!” Sirius interjected, pushing James lightly.

You laughed, glancing at Remus. “This is really sweet. Thank you.”

“Of course, my love,” Remus said, leaning in to kiss you softly. “We’d do anything for you. And we both know you’ll pass, because you’re brilliant.”

“Yeah, that brain of yours would outsmart all of us,” Sirius said, shaking his head with a grin.

“And, uh, I did come up with the idea for the basket,” James interrupted, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I think I deserve a kiss for that.”

You giggled, leaning over to give him a quick peck.

“I suggested we have it outside,” Sirius added, looking pleased with himself.

You laughed again before giving him a peck as well.

Remus smiled at you lovingly, his hand resting on your knee. “I’m just glad you’re here with us,” He said quietly.

“Well,” You said with a cheeky grin, “I think it’s time for some skinny dipping. Maybe a bit of Quidditch? And, oh, a bedtime story?”

The boys’ eyes all lit up. Sirius’ grin grew mischievous.

“You had me at skinny dipping,” He said with a wink.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Hold Me - James Potter

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: After a hard-fought Quidditch match against Slytherin, Gryffindor’s loss hits James Potter harder than anyone expected. With the defeat weighing heavily on him, Y/N stays behind to offer comfort while his friends try to lift his spirits.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The stands were packed with students, their scarves and banners waving frantically as Gryffindor and Slytherin faced off in what was bound to be one of the most intense matches of the season. Y/N sat in the Gryffindor section of the stands, nestled next to Remus Lupin. He had a book in his lap, though he wasn’t reading it, his amber eyes fixed on the pitch below.

"Come on, James," Y/N muttered, her gaze darting between James Potter and Regulus Black. The two Seekers were neck and neck, their brooms weaving in and out of the players below as they chased after the elusive Golden Snitch.

Remus nodded silently, his lips pursed. "They’re so close." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of his book, though he had abandoned any pretence of reading. He hadn’t turned a page in the past half hour.

Y/N could feel the tension in the air, thick like a storm cloud. Every single student in the stands was on edge, watching intently as the Seekers danced through the air. Gryffindor’s hopes rested on James catching the Snitch, but Regulus wasn’t going to let it go easily. Y/N's heart raced as she watched the two of them twist and turn in midair, the tiny golden ball barely a blur in the distance.

James and Regulus were neck and neck, brooms darting dangerously close as they sped through the maze of players. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as they narrowly avoided colliding with a pair of Beaters who were too absorbed in their own skirmish to notice the Seekers darting past.

“They’re going to crash if they’re not careful,” Y/N whispered, her hands clasping tightly together as anxiety bubbled in her chest. She could see the raw determination on James’s face, his hair windswept and wild as he leaned forward on his broom, pushing it to its limits. His focus was entirely on the Snitch, completely oblivious to anything else on the pitch.

Suddenly, something strange happened. James’s broom jerked unnaturally, wobbling violently as if an invisible hand had grabbed it. It veered off course, and for a split second, Y/N thought he might be able to regain control, but the broom jerked again, this time harder. It twisted sharply to the left, causing James to lose his balance. His fingers gripped the handle tightly, knuckles white, as he struggled to steady it.

The crowd gasped, and Y/N instinctively grabbed Remus’s arm, her nails digging into his sweater. James fought to steady his broom, his face set in determination, but it was no use.

“Merlin’s beard,” Remus muttered under his breath. “That’s not normal. Someone’s messing with his broom.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had seen something like this before—the time during their second year when Professor McGonagall had to stop a match because someone had tampered with one of the school brooms. But this time, it was worse. It wasn’t just a Slytherin ploy to distract James; it was sabotage.

Regulus, on the other hand, seized the opportunity. With a final burst of speed, the Slytherin Seeker shot forward and snatched the Snitch from the air. The whistle blew, and the Slytherin section erupted in wild cheers. Their green and silver banners waved triumphantly as they celebrated their victory.

“Slytherin wins!” the announcer’s voice boomed, but all Y/N could hear were the groans and disappointed mutterings of the Gryffindors around her.

Remus exhaled slowly. “That was… unexpected,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he watched James struggle to bring his broom back down to the ground. Y/N's chest tightened with frustration. She knew something had happened to James’s broom—probably Slytherin sabotage—but there was no proof.

As the Gryffindor team trudged off the pitch, heads hung low, the cheers from the Slytherin stands rang in her ears. The energy in the Gryffindor stands had drained, leaving behind a dull silence, broken only by scattered conversations about what had just happened.

“Bloody cheats,” Mary Macdonald muttered, standing next to Lily Evans, her hands clenched into fists. “There’s no way that was an accident. They did something to his broom. You saw how it was jerking around.”

Lily nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with concern as she watched James descend toward the ground. “I don’t know how, but they definitely did something. James should have caught that Snitch.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, wrapping her scarf more tightly around her neck as the evening air grew colder. “You could see it from up here. There’s no way his broom would just do that on its own.”

The rest of the Gryffindors in the stands had already started to file out, but Y/N and her friends lingered. Marlene McKinnon, the Gryffindor Chaser, was the last to leave the field. Her shoulders were slumped, her expression dejected as she trudged toward them, her broom dragging behind her.

“Marlene!” Lily called out, hurrying forward to meet her. The group closed in around Marlene, pulling her into a big, warm hug.

“You played great,” Mary said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas added. “That broom business was total rubbish.”

Marlene gave them a weak smile, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “Thanks, but it still sucks.”

“It’s not your fault,” Y/N said, stepping closer and resting a hand on Marlene’s shoulder. “It was Slytherin cheating. You did the best you could. James knows it too.”

Marlene gave a small nod, but the disappointment in her eyes was hard to shake. She had given everything during that match, and losing like this felt like a punch to the gut.

“Let’s head back to the dorms,” Lily suggested, glancing around at the emptying stands. “We can have a girls’ night, yeah? Chocolate, pyjamas, the works.”

Y/N gave Marlene’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go on. I’ll wait here for James and Sirius.”

Marlene nodded, a bit of the sadness lifting from her face as the group began to make their way back toward the castle. Y/N watched them go, then turned back to the pitch, waiting patiently as the last few stragglers left the stands.

After a few minutes, the locker room door creaked open. Sirius Black emerged, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. His shoulders were tense, and his dark hair was damp from the post-match shower. The moment Y/N saw him, she stood up and hurried over.

“Sirius,” she called softly.

He looked up, his grey eyes dull with frustration, but before he could say anything, Y/N pulled him into a tight hug. “You were brilliant out there,” she whispered, her voice soothing. “It wasn’t your fault, and you know it.”

Sirius sighed, wrapping his arms around her in return, though his grip wasn’t as firm as usual. “Thanks, Y/N,” he muttered, but his voice was distracted. He pulled back slightly, glancing over at Remus, who was watching quietly from a few feet away.

Remus stood up and offered Sirius a small smile. Sirius walked over to him, and without a word, Remus pulled him into another hug. Unlike Y/N’s brief embrace, Sirius stayed in Remus’s arms longer, resting his head on his shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight, the quiet beginning of something unspoken passing between the two boys. She could feel it, even if they didn’t realise it yet.

Once they pulled away, Sirius rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “James… isn’t doing great. He’s pissed—mostly at himself—and he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’ll probably take a while to come out.”

Y/N frowned, worry creeping into her chest. “That bad?”

Sirius nodded. “He blames himself for losing. Thinks he should’ve been able to fight whatever Slytherin did to his broom.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Remus. “He’ll come out when he’s ready,” she said. 

Sirius gave a faint nod, looking relieved that someone would be there for his best friend. “We should head back. He’ll be fine eventually.”

As they made their way back to the castle, Y/N walked beside Sirius, linking her arm through his, offering comfort. The three of them didn’t say much, but their presence was enough to calm the disappointment that hung in the air.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Later that night, Y/N walked into the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the fireplace casting a soft glow over the space. Sirius and Remus were sitting on one of the couches, close together, wrapped in cozy jumpers. Their heads were bent in quiet conversation, the firelight flickering over their faces.

“Is James back yet?” Y/N asked, approaching them.

Remus nodded. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Hasn’t come down since.”

Y/N sighed and leaned down to give each of them a quick hug, planting a kiss on their cheeks. “I’m going to check on him.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes following her as she made her way to the boys’ dormitory stairs. “Good luck,” he called after her.

Climbing the stairs, Y/N reached James’s door and knocked gently. There was a pause before she heard his muffled voice from the other side.

“Go away, Sirius.”

“It’s me, James.”

Silence followed, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he was going to answer. But then she heard the soft click of the door unlocking, and it creaked open.

James stood there, his glasses slightly askew and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. Tear tracks marked his cheeks, his face crumpling the moment he saw her.

“Oh, Jamie,” Y/N whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She pulled him into her arms, and James buried his face in her neck, his breath shaky as he tried to hold back more tears.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Y/N said softly, running her hands up and down his back, offering comfort. She guided him over to the bed, sitting down and keeping him close. James wrapped his arms around her, holding on as if she were the only thing grounding him.

“Is there anything I can do?” Y/N asked, her voice gentle as she played with his messy hair.

James shook his head against her chest. “Just… just hold me, please.”

“Come here.” Y/N said as she leaned back, pulling him with her until they were lying on the bed. His head rested on her chest, his body curled up beside her as his arms stayed wrapped around her waist.

Y/N smiled softly, her hands threading through his dark hair, massaging his scalp in slow, soothing strokes. She could feel the tension in his body begin to ease as he relaxed into her touch.

After a while, James’s breathing evened out, his grip on her loosening slightly as sleep began to pull him under. Just before he drifted off, he mumbled in a low, sleepy voice, “Godric, I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with warmth, and she pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I’m lucky to have you too, Jamie.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[jmwdoesthings]

Snape's Search History - Part One

So this has been requested by quite a few people, now. For those who hadn't seen my previous headcanon post: here it is. I will try and tag all those who have expressed interest in the comments.

In short: After stealing Snape's phone and looking through his saddening search history, the trio come up with a plan to make Snape happy. This is how it unfolds, for the Potions Master has little idea what to make of it.

Enjoy and do reblog to inform the others!!

Part One.

All was still in the empty Transfiguration classroom. The dust lay undisturbed and thick upon the solid desks, which in turn were standing silent and endeavouring in their fortitude of unuse. The chalkboard looked dejected, the forgotten endeavours of clearing it of writing still visible in ashy smudges across the charcoal surface. And it would have probably stayed like that for another decade or two if the door wasn’t flung open and three small figures stumbled from behind it, making enough noise for the dust to twitch into the air again. A ‘quick, quick!’ was spat out by one of the disturbers accompanied by a few hisses of urge, then a scrabble as the doorknob was found and the door was pushed.

The dust jumped up from the desk as the door slammed shut and settled back upon it once more as Harry, Ron and Hermoine stood, panting, in front of it. 

After a short moment, Ron pushed himself from the door. His face broke out in a wide grin.

“Blimmin’ heck, that was a mess!” He laughed and dusted his hands. “He’ll be looking for it, now, I bet.”

“But we’ve got it!” Harry grasped the trophy tight, as though he was afraid that it would slip from him, back to its owner. “Let’s do it quick, before someone else comes to find us and sees us.”

Hermoine said nothing, but she was far from calm herself - in fact, she was inches from jumping down on the spot and breaking out into a mad giggle. The latter she repressed with difficulty as they all stormed to the nearest table, swept off the perplexed dust from it with their sleeves, then laid out the shiny, sleek device upon its surface.

The device was a phone. It wasn’t any old phone, either, for if it was perhaps only a few of the more eccentric would deem it a subject of interest. This was a working phone, one which withstood any feuds between its power and the magic sparking and fizzing, though quiet and invisible, in the air; even better yet - this phone belonged to a certain man whom the three giggling and bending over its shiny, black surface, hated with a vengeance. This phone belonged to the Potion’s Master: Severus Snape.

“Go on, Hermione.” Ron slid the phone over to the small witch with bushy brown hair. “You said you knew the password.”

Hermione nodded, growing solemn at the task at hand, shoved her brown mane out of her eyes and bent over the screen, which grew illuminated at the touch of a button.

“Merlin’s beard, what my dad would give to be in our place,” Ron breathed, as Hermoine tapped out some letters and numbers with her forefingers. “A fellytone, and a working one too-”

“It’s called a telephone, Ron,” Harry corrected, though he could barely breathe as he watched Hermione’s fingers working. “Ha, I cannot believe we’ve actually managed to do this. Fred and George are nothing compared to us, now.”

“I’d love to see their faces,” Ron whispered, almost wriggling with glee. “And I’m the one who fished it out of his pocket! Now, all we need to do is-”

“Got it.” Hermione smiled as the screen changed, displaying buttons with different icons upon a plain, dark backdrop. “Now, if I remember correctly, it's called explorer…”

“Why aren’t we doing this in the common room, again?” Ron continued. “I know Percy’s a prefect, but even he wouldn’t-”

“Because, Ron,” Hermoine began as she chose the right button, “we have no idea what Snape actually keeps or searches for on this phone. If it’s all weird, we’d be too embarrassed to even attempt showing it to them. Plus,” she added, when Ron opened his mouth to interject, “it’s not like we’re going to cast it out of the window as soon as we’re done. It’s not magic - at least I don’t think it is - and it won’t just disappear or fly out to find Snape. We can show the rest of our classmates later.”

Ron opened his mouth again, but then understood the sense of this and closed it. 

“There it is,” Harry said, as Hermione searched for the right option. “History. Oh, boy, this is gonna be good. If he’s not cleared it.”

Ron rubbed his hands and rocked on the balls of his feet as he leaned on the table. “Yeah, as ‘Mione said, I bet it's all weird. Let's see what’s first.”

Dangling hair and breathing mingled and hovered inches from the square surface as all three leaned in to see. However, there was hardly any giggling, after they all read the first position on the records of what, precisely, the Potion’s Master searched for whenever he had a spare moment. In fact, there was none at all, and the glee was slowly replaced with something that none of them had been expecting.

Hermoine’s eyes dulled and eyebrows furrowed as she read the first position aloud.

“... ‘How to be more approachable’.”

There was a rather awkward pause. Hermione made a rather sad ‘oh’ sound. Ron shifted slightly.

“That’s kind-of sad, to be honest,” he finally managed, frowning.

“Scroll down, Hermione,” Harry waved aside the tension and leaned forward again. “That’s only the first position. Perhaps he’s had a change of heart.”

“And the most recent,” Hermione murmured, but she scrolled down obediently. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s all weird further down,” Ron muttered, but they were all disproved again. Their childish glee was completely reduced to something rather prickly and uncomfortable as Hermione ploughed through the searches:

“...Where can happiness be obtained…” 

“...How to tolerate children…” 

“...Patience, tips...”

“...Wholesome fiction with happy ending… stories with happy ending… which sad books to avoid… books to make one’s soul happy…”

And then:

“...Fast, effective…”

Here, Hermione paused and bit her lip, her eyes sparkling strangely, her brow now heavy. Harry glanced at her, then finished for her.

“Fast, effective headache relief.” He straightened and shifted from foot to foot, then looked at Ron for some sort of inspiration to dilute the thickness of the air. “Did you know Snape gets headaches, Ron?”

“Nope,” Ron offered, looking rather ashamed of himself and his gloating, the tips of his ears pink. “I didn’t think so. I mean, it makes sense though, doesn’t it…?”

“I feel terrible,” Hermione whispered, balling her fists.

“Yeah, we should probably put it back,” Ron said, though he didn’t look as enthusiastic about slipping the phone back into the Potion Master’s pocket than he did about proudly obtaining it. “Should we just leave it on his desk when he’s not in the classroom?”

“And how are we going to do that?” Harry asked, frowning. “We can’t go running around the dungeons. The Slytherin common rooms are there.”

Hermione sniffed, then rolled her eyes, pushing the phone away from her. “You have an invisibility cloak, Harry. This shouldn’t be too much of an issue.”

“Oh, yeah.”

They stood there for another few seconds, before Harry reached out and hesitantly pocketed the phone. “Let’s get back to the common rooms. We don’t need to mention this to anybody.”

“No, we don’t.” Ron said sadly, recalling his former words of potential victory over Fred and George and how they just went down the drain. “Never mind. Let’s just go.”

The dust was rather glad to be free of them, and so was the classroom. Only the desks, however, were rather miserable that they once again stood alone in their fortitude of unuse, unnoticed, only there to be berated and slandered by the students. Just like, as the trio would soon deduce, Severus Snape, the Potion’s Master, was.

*

A week passed. The phone was returned back to Snape’s desk without much ado. After that, it was unmentioned, and whenever it was glimpsed, three pairs of eyes were averted to the candles or windows, and most certainly not to each other, no words about it leaving their mouths, though they most certainly bounced around in their brains, though some were more cluttered than the others’.

It was through Harry’s mouth that the uncomfortable topic surfaced and it did so on a Saturday evening, in the library, when the day was slowly coming to an end and the sun was sinking slowly outside the mullioned windows. Ron was scowling at his Transfiguration homework, when Harry shot out a sigh through his nose and put down his quill.

“Listen, guys,” he started, nudging Hermione, who didn’t look as though she had heard him and just kept right on scribbling, her nose nearly touching the parchment. “I’ve been thinking… Hey, Hermione, are you listening?”

“Shush.” Hermoine glared at him, then shot a pointed glance at Madam Pince. “We’ll get kicked out.”

Ron’s scowl didn’t shift and was merely re-directed at its favourite subject of complaint with large front teeth and a vehement urge to stuff her head with new fragments of knowledge. 

“Not if we keep our voices down,” he said, potting his quill too. “Talk, Harry.”

Harry opened his mouth mainly to play on Hermione’s nerves than to follow through on his plans, when his mind did a detour to the wisdom of him touching on such a sensitive topic in a public place.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said with a nod. “Not because this is the library. We need to speak about… you know what.”

This was of enough weight for Hermione’s quill to stop moving. She shot him a glance, then met eyes with Ron and sighed.

“Yes,” she whispered. “We can’t speak about this here. To be honest, I’ve been meaning to speak about this to you both too.”

They latched up their bags, grabbed their stationary, then swiftly exited the library, tripping over Harry and Ron’s untied shoelaces. Hermoine grabbed them by their bags when they turned the corridor towards the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“The common room’s full,” she hissed. “We should go outside. We won’t be overheard there.”

“Hermoine’s right,” Harry said, nudging Ron. “Let’s go.”

They turned around, then began slowly walking down towards the main gates. They all kept silent, their eyes trained mainly to the floor, sometimes only looking up to meander around the other students milling around the corridor. It was probably why they didn’t notice the ominous figure walking towards them until they had all but face-planted themselves into its black robes.

Hermione was the first to look up and stick out her arms to halt the other two, her eyes sharpening after she was prodded out of her thoughts by this slightly unwelcome reality. Harry and Ron had similarly dumb expressions as they blinked up at her, then at what was in front of them.

Professor Snape’s voice was as restricted to nothing but cold disdain as usual, and the black of both his clothes and expression matched this regularity. 

“Where are we going?”

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione beat him to it.

“Outside for a moment, Professor Snape.”

Harry paused, then nodded along with Ron, trying to appear as though they weren’t hiding anything at all. The Potion’s Master observed them for a moment or two longer, before lowering eyebrows and, as it seemed, his guard.

“I suggest you look where you’re going,” was all he said, before drawing his cape about him and turning to pass them. But he didn’t manage to pass them, when Hermoine opened her mouth and after drawing a deep breath, emitted a string of words strung upon the same one:

“I hope you have a good night, Professor Snape.”

It was quite uncanny, really, how all three males looked at her with the same degree of incredulity and astonishment upon their faces, apparently forgetting things like enmity and dislike. It was enough to make poor Hermione flush a deep red and her words to run away from her before she could properly filter them through her teeth and tongue.

“Just being polite, is all,” she muttered, before she tugged on Harry and Ron’s sleeves sharply. “Come on, let’s go.”

She dragged them off with enough force for Snape’s surprise to cool off and his usual stone face return as he watched them stagger, though that was only visible to Harry and Ron for a few seconds before the vehement grip on their arms prevented them from turning back around, in case they both got whiplash. 

“Are you mental? What was that?” Ron hissed at her, when they rounded a corner, then he did a double take when he fixed his eyes on her features. “Blimey, Hermione, you’ve gone absolutely scarlet.”

“You’ve gone redder than his hair,” Harry commented, though with a hint of admiration in his tone as he stared.

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione muttered, then dragged them through the main door, into the cool of the evening. “Never mind that. Let’s talk about the subject at hand. And don’t tell me you’ve not been thinking about doing something similar to what I did.”

She glared at Ron and Harry, still flushed. They both pulled faces back, but they dropped their gaze after a few seconds as they trudged through the foliage.

“Alright, maybe,” Ron muttered under his breath, when they reached the black lake. “But it was nowhere near to what you just did.”

“What precisely did I just do?” Hermione snapped. “I was just being polite.”

“You were sucking up to him-”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.” Ron put on a high-pitched voice. “I hope you have a wonderful night, Professor Snape-”

“Oh, shut up!” She stamped her foot. “You act as though you’re entirely ignorant. You were there when we looked at his history. You saw it. And if complaining and arguing about this is the best you can do, then I pity you, Ronald Weasley!”

“Alright,” Harry cut in, weakly. “That’s not what we came here to do. Let’s just get it over and done with before curfew.”

Hermione glared at Ron once more before settling down. Both folded their arms and stared at the lake. Harry pursed his lips, for it was much harder to project his thoughts than he thought it would be, now that they were actually all together for that purpose alone.

“I think Hermione’s right,” he began, when Hermione was no longer red. “It would be wrong to keep at… you know.”

Ron snorted. “Being mad at Snape for picking on us for no reason?”

“He picks on everyone.” Hermione said, her eyes narrowed. “We’re no exception. Well, perhaps Harry is, but then you did get off to the wrong start at the beginning of the year.”

“No he didn’t,” said Ron.

“He was talking back to him,” she argued. “And it was the first interaction they had. No wonder Snape hates Harry.”

“And you,” Ron said pointedly. “You’re pretty much every teacher’s pet but his, and do you know why? Because he’s an-”

“Can you two not?” Harry snapped. “Can you two calm down? Please? This is serious.”

The arguing pair scowled at one another and resumed evaporating the lake with their glares.

“So,” Harry said, once enough silence had passed, “I think we ought to… you know, help him a bit. Be, erm, nicer.”

Ron turned and creased his forehead, but Hermione nodded, solemnly.

“We ought to,” she said, softly. “I told you, I was thinking about it. It’s all about perspective, really.”

“Perspective?”

“Yes,” she said. “Think about it from Snape’s perspective. Do you reckon he has a lot of friends?”

Ron scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. Who would want to be friends with him? ‘Course he hasn’t.”

“Precisely,” she said, though she looked at him reproachfully. “You’re teaching over five-hundred children Potions, all of whom, if I may add, are intent on either not listening, not doing homework, or just being downright rude. Yes, Ron, I know he’s like that too, and perhaps he does deserve it, and if we didn’t know better, we’d be justified in biting back. The point is, he’s clearly sad. He looks it. He looks downright miserable all the time.”

“You’re blowing this over.”

“Oh, am I?” Hermione said. “Tell me one time in which you saw him smile. And I don’t mean meanly. I mean happily. Have you ever heard him laugh? Because I haven’t.”

Ron sucked on his lips, looking torn. Harry listened, looking solemn.

“I haven’t either,” he said, quietly. “At first, I thought like Ron does, but… I’ve lived with the Dursleys my whole life. They’ve held grudges for no reason, for a long time, and it's tiring to be the person receiving them and keeping them up.”

Hermione looked at him with eyes lined with admiration. She nodded.

“Exactly, Harry. We could just be the reason for somebody’s… well, perhaps not happiness, but… tolerance.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Ron asked, still looking begrudging, but not unwilling. “By saying good morning and good night?”

“We could,” Harry said thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t be going over the top, or anything.”

Hermione must have thought about this more carefully than both of them put together, because she started counting out everything they could do upon her fingers as she spoke.

“Not just that,” she began. “We could do everything which is expected of us, for starters. Like doing homework on time, doing it correctly, not just so that it's done and boxed off without thought, the right parchment length, perhaps more… I know, we could get the older students to check it for us, so that we know we’ve done it right… then, we could actually listen in lessons and excel…”

Ron was frowning as she spoke. Even Harry was getting slightly doubtful they would ever manage such a feat. 

“...Do extra work. If you don’t want to, Ron, then we could do something outside of lessons. Not necessarily work.”

“Then what?” Harry asked. “Like what?”

“We could… you know.” Hermione’s face became slightly pink again. “We could find out when his birthday is.”

“That’s going too far,” said Ron, firmly, looking slightly agonised. “Imagine his face… oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Hermione agreed. “But then, I don’t know what else to do.”

“That sounds like a pretty good start to me,” Harry said. “Let’s start with lessons, Hermione, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else.”

Hermione’s face lit up, and for a moment both boys were afraid that she’d hug them.

“Great!” She grinned, then began walking towards the castle. “We have Potions on Monday, and homework due. Let’s get this done now! There’s still time. Alicia Spinnet’s good at potions - she’ll be able to point us in the right direction.”

Harry and Ron turned from the lake and began to follow Hermione as she marched towards the castle with an enigmatical spring in her step.

“I don’t know about you,” said Ron, as she talked on, “but I’ve got a weird feeling this is going to end up in a mess.”

“We’ve been in loads already,” Harry said, though there was something uneasy in his chest too, “so it won’t really make a difference. But Hermione’s got a point,” he added, after they reached the steps to the castle gate, “it must be annoying, being Snape. And, as we all know, doing homework properly’s always a good start to everything.”

“That’s utter garbage.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning. “I’m quoting Hermione. She does it like she can’t live without it. And, from a teacher’s point of view, less marking seems like a good thing, at least to me.”

So the endeavours began, though they didn’t hold out to be as constant a flourish and blaze as Hermione made it out to be. Especially not after she insisted that they do twice the usual length as some form of surprise. 

“I’m not doing that,” Ron complained, throwing himself back in his chair and folding his arms. “I’ve got enough work as it is. And I’ve already done it to the best possible standard. Even you’ve said it's not bad, Hermione.”

“It looks decent,” she said, unrolling her homework, which made both Harry and Ron’s pale in comparison. “But if we’re going to show that we’re not hostile any more, we ought to try harder.”

So the homework was done somewhat begrudgingly and everything seemed to be going to plan, before Sunday evening. More precisely, the free afternoon of Harry and Ron was disturbed by Hermione suddenly coming in through the portrait hole, clutching something behind her back, then moving swiftly towards them and sitting at the table at which they were currently playing wizard’s chess.

“I’ve got something,” she said, slightly flushed. “You’re not going to believe what I made in the girls’ bathroom.”

The game was paused and the boys looked suspicious as they turned to look at her.

“The girls’ bathroom?” Ron repeated bluntly. “What have you been making in the girls bathroom, Hermione, that could make you go so bloody pink?”

They both looked blank as she withdrew a hand from behind her back and placed its contents upon the surface of the table with a rather proud flourish. It was a glass bottle, the sort which looked rather like a cuboid, stoppered with a round cork. It was filled with a light blue liquid, which seemed to glow faintly as it rested within its cool, glass confines. 

“That doesn’t look innocent,” Harry commented, knocking over Ron’s bishop. “What is it, Hermione?”

“It’s a headache draught,” she said proudly. “I found the recipe in one of the books in the library.”

Ron pushed his lips out as he stared at it, then picked it up.

“How d’you know he’ll know this is a headache draught, Hermione?”

“I reckon he’d know, since he’s the Potion’s Master.”

“But doesn’t that mean he’s fully capable of making these himself?” Harry asked. “It’s not like it would be a problem for him.”

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione said slightly impatiently, taking back the bottle from Ron, “but the thing is that some people, men especially, simply don’t bother with taking care of themselves. That’s what my mum once said, and I’ve observed it since. I have a good reason to suspect that Snape isn’t the sort to ensure his health is top-notch.”

“I wouldn’t care if I was him,” Ron agreed. “What’s there to live for, for him? If I had to teach a bunch of snotty kids Potions everyday, I’d probably kill myself.”

There was a bit of an awkward pause - Harry had begun to nod, but lost the ability to move his head as he caught the disapproval in Hermione’s eyes.

“I mean,” Ron corrected himself, “you’re probably right, anyway. How long did it take you to make this?” “An hour,” she replied, “but that was because I messed up the first one. I added a bat-wing too many, so I had to pour that down the sink. Anyway.” She sat up straight again, folding her hands on the table neatly. “It said that half this bottle is to be drunk with fluid twice daily. So we need to make this once a day.”

“We’re going to run out of ingredients within a week,” Harry commented. 

“Not unless we take a little too many during Potions,” Hermione said coolly. “It’s a basic potion, using basic ingredients. Nothing Snape doesn’t have in his cupboard.”

“That would be stealing, though,” Ron said. 

“No it wouldn’t, though, since we are giving it back to him in the form of self-help,” Harry replied. “And you are going to be making it every day, Hermione?” 

In response, Hermoine thrust her hands into her pockets and produced another six vials, placing them with a clink, clink, clink upon the table, neatly. The boys looked at her with varying degrees of astonishment and admiration as she lined the bottles up.

“When these run out,” was the nonchalant reply, though the pink returned to Hermione’s cheeks as it was spoken, “I will do so. Unless you’d like to help me make them.”

“I think I’m good,” Ron said. “You can take all the credit if you want, Hermione - I’ll be happy with just doing extra work.”

“Great,” Hermione replied, ignoring the slight annoyance tinging the last two words spoken. “Then we will start from tomorrow.”

*

As all three of the enlightened Gryffindors lined up outside the dungeon’s classroom on a Monday morning, all three could feel their hearts beating somewhere in their stomach. Hermione, as usually was the case when feverish with excitement or trepidation, wouldn’t stop talking, even for the danger of any nerves exploding in her counterparts.

“Remember what I mentioned yesterday,” she whispered with obstinance, leaning in so that she wouldn’t be overheard. “If anything happens, try not to shout, don’t argue, just try to be as polite as you can. Yes, even if it isn’t your fault, Ron,” she added, cutting off Ron’s indignant reply. “Just try to be as good-willed as possible.”

A drawling voice cut off this heartfelt advice.

“What are you three whispering about?” Draco Malfoy called from the front of the line. “You must be conspiring, since you’re standing so close to each other. Or are you just trying to kiss Potter, Granger?”

Hermione straightened, Ron scowled, Harry opened his mouth to retort, but they never got to, since the former turned around and raised her eyebrows.

“I hope you’re not jealous,” she replied, coolly, “because that would be gross.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Jealous? Of kissing you? Bleh.” He made a show of shuddering, then nudged Crabbe and Goyle, standing beside him. “Imagine kissing someone with teeth like that. They're absolutely massive. It would be like trying to kiss a beaver.”

Hermione’s lips turned down; Ron flushed a fiery red and took a step forward, but Hermione grabbed his shoulders before his clenched fist could go into swing.

“Snape will invite us in any second,” she hissed. “Don’t be provoked, Ron.”

“Yeah, don’t listen to him,” Harry said, shooting a look of hatred towards the blonde, pinched-featured boy guffawing. “He’s just being an idiot. It’s his natural state, he can’t help it.”

At that moment, the doors to the classroom creaked open, and they all began to file into their places. Harry and Ron began to meander towards the back of the classroom to their usual spot, but Hermione knocked on their arms and pointed towards the front row instead.

“Oh no,” Ron moaned, looking fearful, “no, not the front desks, Hermione…”

“Shut up, Ron,” was all she said before she dragged them towards the ominous front desks, just (oh, horror!) in front of the black board. They ignored the strange looks they received from the others around them and instead focused on unpacking all of their things needed for the lesson.

It seemed that they were all off for a good start, when Harry opened his bag, rummaged around in it for a moment, then looked stricken.

“What is it?” Hermione hissed, noticing, as she laid out her stationary geometrically on the desk. “Did you forget your homework?”

“No, I’ve forgotten to bring my Potions book,” he replied, turning his bag upside down. “Oh, great…”

“Silence,” Snape called from behind his desk, watching them with a distasteful look on his pale face. “Sit down.”

They all sat and slid their bags off the desk. Harry hoped nothing amiss would be noticed and instead of wriggling around nervously, he tried to listen carefully as the lesson began. Of course, Hermione had made the effort of ensuring that she was sitting between him and Ron, so that they wouldn’t give into temptations and burst into conversation with one another during inappropriate times.

Snape’s eyes darted towards them in a rather suspicious nature as the lesson began, as though he was expecting something dishonest at the least from this sudden change of seating and eagerness. However, the three looked back with innocent eyes, which, in turn, made the Potions Master’s eyes narrower, before he turned to write upon the chalkboard.

“You will be working in pairs,” he said, once all the instructions had been written and the sleeping draught introduced, “I expect this to be done and detailed on parchment by the end of the lesson.”

The vehemence with which Hermione threw herself into the task was quite unsettling, at least for the other two. However, since there were three of them, either Harry or Ron was going to have to go and work with another, and since neither of them wanted to be parted from Hermione (who, as usual, looked as though she knew exactly what she was doing) there was a little bit of dithering done. 

“Ron, why don’t you go and work with Neville?” Hermione suggested, as Harry slid over to her and almost grasped her arm as though to claim her for the lesson.

Ron looked stricken. 

“Are you mad?” he hissed, as discreetly as he could. “We’ll blow up the classroom!”

Hermione sighed. “No, you won’t-”

“Yes we will! It’s already happened twice before!”

However, Snape intervened before anything could be decided. They flinched, feeling the cold of his shadow and turned to see him standing behind them with his arms folded and his eyes still narrowed.

“Well?” He looked at the dithering three, from bushy brown hair to green eyes to freckles on nose. “This doesn’t look like a pair, to me.”

Harry shot a look at Ron; Ron glowered and made no move to move away. Hermione looked desperate.

“I’ll work with Neville,” she said, making them both shoot her panicked looks instead. “You two work together.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Snape said coolly, his eyes darting back and forth between them. “Potter, move your things to Longbottom’s desk. Weasley, you will work with Granger.”

Harry was about to open his mouth to protest, when Hermione stood on his foot and he ended up shutting it and nodding instead.

“Yes, sir,” he said, though sounding  slightly dispirited, then obediently gathered up his things and went to sit with Neville, whose round eyes didn’t leave Snape for the entirety of the time. He laid out all of his things, trying not to look at Ron, who looked rather smug at the change of circumstances, then looked up to find Snape’s eyes narrowed more still as they swept over the things he laid out on the desk.

“Where is your textbook, Potter?” Snape asked softly, his arms folded about him, looking much displeased. “Did you perhaps think that the presence of the scar on your forehead makes you unobliged to bring it? Or perhaps you think you know what to do already, without the book’s aid?”

Malfoy, who was working with Goyle to their left, snorted and nudged his crony. Harry remembered Hermione’s words and swallowed down his words, which were far too red and sharp for the plan they were trying so hard to execute.

“I apologise, sir,” he said, managing to sound relatively polite and stop himself from glowering at the same time, then took a deep breath. “I must have left it in the library yesterday. It’s my fault entirely.”

Neville stared at him. So did Snape. Harry turned to the former.

“Can I share your potions book today, Neville?”

“Sure,” Neville stammered out, then slid it over to him. “Here… here you go.”

“Thank you.” He turned to look back at Snape, who was looking incredulous at the least, almost nervous at the fact that he wasn’t firing a projectile of arrogance back at him. “Sorry to be an inconvenience, sir.”

At this, Snape actually took a small step back, twitching his cape around himself as though putting up a shield of defence, his eyebrows unbending themselves and creeping slowly upwards. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione shoot him a huge grin and give him a very big thumbs-up. Ron looked torn between cringing and clapping, but ended up nodding in approval.

Snape must have been so thrown off-balance by this alarming bout of humility on Harry’s part, that didn’t even give him a reply. He just slid away from their desk with a last thorough look at him, probably deciding he was under the influence of some spell and not being worthy of both his time or his nerves.

“Nice job, Harry,” Hermione said to him over her bubbling cauldron. “See, you can keep your cool if you want to.”

“I nearly didn’t,” Harry replied with a grin, feeling some odd sense of pride from this accomplishment. “But tell me, Hermione, how are you going to put that vial on his desk?”

“Oh, I’ve got that all figured out,” she said rather breezily, dropping powdered porcupine spine into her mixture. “I’ll leave my book here, then come and get it during break, while he’s gone to the staffroom. Or perhaps I’ll just do it when his back is turned. I’ll manage somehow.”

With that Harry couldn’t argue, so he turned back to his potion and met with Neville’s intrigued face.

“What are you up to?” he asked quietly, as they cut and measured. Harry thought there wasn’t any point in elaborating, so he just said:

“We’re trying to be nice to Snape.”

“Nice to Snape?” Neville repeated, pausing with his cutting knife hovering above his cutting board. “Why’s that?”

Harry shrugged, stirring his potion the way it said on the chalkboard. “Nothing much. Thought we’d have some fun and do some good, you know, Neville?”

Neville didn’t look as though he understood, but then he shrugged and nodded.

“That’s… nice,” he murmured thoughtfully, then nothing more was said on the matter, though he didn’t look quite as uneasy as he did before. In fact, he looked slightly impressed.

Everything would have ended nicely and according to plan if Harry and Neville weren’t stationed at that particular desk. Their sleeping draught was slowly turning a bright-purple colour, as was Hermione and Ron’s (when Harry glanced over), when suddenly there was a sound of splashing and Harry was slapped in the face with several globs of his concoction; someone had thrown something into their cauldron.

Goyle was grinning. Malfoy sniggered, then moved a few steps back to his desk.

“Looked like it needed more bat-wing, Potter.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Harry stepped forward and was about to tell him exactly what he thought of him with his fists, when Neville poked him frantically and said, “Look!”

He turned back just as the huge, purple bubble swelling out of the rim of his cauldron popped; there was a sound like a giant slug being squelched and Neville and Harry were drenched from head to toe in sticky goo. 

There was a gasp, silence, then a few pounding footsteps, rustling of fabric and Snape stood before them with his eyes black and his mouth sneering.

“You idiots,” he began, whipping out his wand as their cauldron gave another sickening squelch and more gunk splattered out. “Did you not read the instructions? Can you two even read?”

“It wasn’t our fault, Professor,” Neville stammered, wiping gunk off his face, looking worriedly at his ruined robes. “Malfoy threw a bat wing into our cauldron. It was coming along so well, too…”

Snape’s eyes flickered to Malfoy, who pulled a face which was obviously meant to look innocent, then back to Harry, who had taken off his glasses and was frowning as he tried to remove the sludge from their surface so he could actually see.

“That’s right, Professor,” he managed, frowning. “We’d followed your instructions, this time.”

From the corner of his eye Harry saw the shape of Hermione draw something out from her pocket, nip backwards a few steps and discreetly place it on Snape’s desk.

Snape didn’t notice anything, still looking furious. He looked at the purple gunk disdainfully, waved his wand, vanishing it off them and the table.

“Five points from Slytherin,” he snapped at Malfoy, then turned to Neville and Harry. “And five from Gryffindor, for the disturbance.”

This was horribly unfair and normally, Harry would have exclaimed and let him know that it was just so, but Harry had a certain mindset now along with Hermione making frantic motions at him from behind Snape’s back, and so he didn’t say a word as he put his glasses back on and stared at him.

“I apologise for the inconvenience, sir.” He pursed his mouth and shot a look at Malfoy, who’s grin wasn’t as prominent, now that he had been put in his place. “Thank you for cleaning the mess up for us.”

This time, Snape certainly looked baffled. He even looked displeased, his lip curling downwards, though Harry had a feeling it was because he had no idea what was going on, rather than him being disgusted at the good upbringing he was no doubt convinced Harry didn’t have. Ron stifled a snigger with his hands. Hermione smiled.

“Yes,” Neville piped up, surprising all of them, as he examined his clean robes. “Thanks for the help, sir.”

Snape stared at him, then shot a glance at Harry, then made a sound similar to an incredulous scoff and waved his hand for the rest to get on with working. The babble of chatter slowly resumed, as did the clinking of vials and hushed muttering of the flames beneath the cauldrons.

Harry watched Snape walk back to his desk with his eyes still narrowed, sit down, apparently lost in thought, then actually look at his desk and pause.

Hermione’s eyes shot a discreet look at the Potions Master and the corner of her mouth couldn’t restrain itself from twitching upwards as Snape picked up the headache draught in two fingers (it was very clearly labelled in block writing, so that it was unable to tell who had written it) and read the label. The trio watched his eyes grow wide as his eyes scanned over it - he was astonished! - then flash upwards with suspicion.

Hermione had already averted her eyes with Ron, pretending to be reading a passage in the book together, and Harry managed to do the same very shortly after, so Snape simply scoured the room and found no potential gifters in any of the gathered. He looked back down to the little blue bottle. He uncorked it, brought it up to his nose hesitantly (probably expecting a lungful of poisonous fumes, Harry thought), then with the same expression lowered it, corked it and carefully placed it back down on his desk.

Like Hermione, Harry couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he watched the Potions Master’s reaction. Snape looked blankly at the vial for a second longer, then a strange expression of bewilderment came over him: he dragged a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose and began to massage his eyes. He looked impressively beaten. More befuddled than Harry had ever seen him, which was strange, for this was nothing but an apparent act of thoughtfulness - it was as though he had no idea how to react to it!

As the class began to unroll their parchments to copy down the writing on the blackboard and add notes, Snape’s eyes kept shooting reluctant glances towards the strange present on his desk. Once or twice he even picked it up with a strange look of calm and intrigue on his face to study it.

Harry couldn’t sit still, and from the looks of it, neither could Hermione and Ron. Ron kept snickering to himself; Hermione was pink with pleasure and often joined him in his quiet outbursts of laughter. Before the lesson was out, all three were in such high spirits that Neville looked unsettled, because whenever he caught their eye they beamed at him richly, then went back to their work smiling.

“Homework,” Snape called at the end of their lesson, back to his dark mood and expression. “I want you to place it on the front table as you walk out. Now, go.”

Harry withdrew his homework from his bag - this, he hadn’t forgotten since Hermione had checked both their bags thrice - along with Hermione and Ron. They packed up, put on their bags, then approached the desk together. All three parchments were unmistakably longer than anybody else’s and almost rolled off the table as they placed them on the pile. 

When they turned to Snape, his face was made of marble.

“See you later, sir,” Ron began. “Good lesson.”

“Have a good rest of your day, Professor Snape,” Hermione added.

“Thanks again for your help, Professor,” Harry finished with a polite nod, then turned and walked out.

As soon as they were out in the corridor and the door was shut, they all burst out, clutched at one another in excitement, hissing out observations and whispering:

“Blimey, did you see his face?” Ron chortled, punching Harry in the arm. “He was absolutely gob-smacked.”

“I bet he feels bad about taking points off you, now,” Hermione added, her teeth gleaming as she grinned. “But listen. In a sense, this is completely worth it.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t get him so out of it any other way if we tried,” Ron added with vehemence. “We’re closer to getting him to quit his job by being decent to him than by being awful. Did you see his face when he picked up Hermione’s vial?”

He pulled a face of bewilderment, doing such a good impression that they all burst out laughing as they rounded the corner, running straight into Professor McGonagall who raised an eyebrow at this buzzing of laughter and jovial mood which they were exhibiting.

“Good morning,” she said to them, clearly looking for an explanation which, unfortunately for her, she wasn’t going to get, for her recipients were having far too much fun in their enigmatical benevolence to provide it to her.

“Good morning, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione sang as they walked past. “You look really nice today!”

“Yeah, enjoy the nice weather, Professor,” Harry added, “while it lasts!”

“Have a good morning,” Ron added as they got out of earshot, then waved and turned back around.

Minerva McGonagall stared after them with her lips pursed, wondering whether to follow them to check whether any charms had been cast on them to put them in such a cheerful spell or to pen this strange enthusiasm as the aftereffect of something ridiculous. The former seemed most likely to be the case, since they had just come out of Potions, and as far as everybody was aware - unless something catastrophic had happened which had temporarily rendered the Potions Master a fool in their eyes - it wasn’t exactly their favourite lesson for obvious reasons.

She made up her mind a moment later, and after twitching the quill she was holding in two fingers, she directed her footsteps towards the dungeons and the Potion’s classroom to find out more about the state of affairs.

[a-cross-the-universe]

Waiting On The Sidelines | George Weasley

George Weasley x f!reader

Part II

The tension on the Quidditch pitch was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Gryffindor team had been playing an intense match against Ravenclaw, and the pressure was mounting. A single mistake had nearly cost them the game—George had fumbled a pass, allowing Ravenclaw to score. It wasn’t the end of the world, but Oliver Wood didn’t see it that way.

“Merlin’s beard, Weasley! What the hell was that?” Oliver shouted as they hovered mid-air. His face was red with frustration, and his voice carried across the pitch. “We’ve gone over this play a hundred times, and you just—what? Decide to ignore it?”

George tightened his grip on his broom, jaw clenched. “I know, Wood. I messed up. I’ll fix it.”

“Fix it? You better! We’re this close to winning the bloody tournament, and I won’t let a careless mistake ruin it for us!”

You watching from the stands, felt anger rise in in your chest. You understood the importance of the game, but the way Oliver was berating George in front of the whole team was unfair. Without thinking, you marched down to the field as the team hovered back down for a brief timeout.

“That’s enough, Oliver,” you said sharply, stepping between them. “He knows he made a mistake. You don’t need to humiliate him.”

Oliver scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you shot back. “Yelling at him isn’t going to change what happened. Just let him play.”

Before Oliver could respond, George suddenly turned to you, his expression dark with frustration.

“love, stay out of this,” he snapped.

You blinked, taken aback. “I was just—”

“I don’t need you stepping in like I can’t handle myself,” he interrupted, his voice louder now. “This is my problem, not yours. And if you can’t understand that, maybe it’s best you don’t get involved with Quidditch at all.”

The words felt like a slap. The team stood awkwardly around you two, the echo of his outburst lingering in the air. Before you could say anything, Oliver blew his whistle, signaling the end of the timeout.

“Fine,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked off the pitch, ignoring the way your stomach twisted painfully.

***

While the rest of Gryffindor packed into the stands to watch the second half, you walked straight back to the castle. The roaring cheers of the crowd became a distant hum as you made your way up to the dormitory.

You weren't angry, not really. More than anything, you just felt… hollow.

You had only wanted to help. You hated seeing people you cared about get torn down, especially over something as trivial as a mistake in a game. But George had made it clear—he didn’t want your interference. Maybe you had overstepped. Maybe you should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Sighing, you grabbed a book from bedside the table and curled up beneath the blankets, trying to lose yourself in the words on the page.

Some time later, distant cheers erupted from the common room below. Gryffindor had won. The whole house would be celebrating, George included. But you stayed where you were, letting the pages of the book become your only company.

***

George was grinning from ear to ear as he entered the Gryffindor common room, the Cup held high above his head. The entire house had erupted in cheers, lifting him and the rest of the team into the air, laughter and victory filling every corner of the room.

But as the celebration continued, a nagging feeling tugged at him. He scanned the sea of faces. Fred was there, already charming a platter of butterbeer to float across the room. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were laughing together near the fireplace. Even Oliver was there, his earlier frustration forgotten in the wake of their win.

But you were nowhere to be found.

Guilt settled in his stomach. He hadn’t seen you since the argument. You had left the game without another word.

Without hesitating, he slipped away from the party and climbed the stairs to the dormitories. When he reached your door, he knocked gently.

“love?”

No answer.

After a moment, he opened the door to find you curled up on your bed, book in hand. You didn’t look up.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping inside. “You missed the celebration.”

“I know,” you murmured, still not looking at him.

George hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I… I was an idiot.”

You finally turned a page, eyes still focused on the book. “You were.”

He winced. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just—when I’m on the pitch, I have to handle things on my own. If I mess up, I need to own it, not have someone else defend me.”

You sighed, closing the book but still not meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to fight your battles for you, George. I just didn’t like the way Oliver was talking to you. I thought I was helping.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I shouldn’t have snapped at you for it. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You finally looked at him then, expression soft but unreadable. “I forgive you.”

Relief washed over him, and he gave you a hopeful grin. “Good. Then come on. Everyone’s downstairs—we won! Let’s celebrate.”

But you shook your head. “I think I’ll just stay here and read.”

George’s smile faltered. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I just… I’d rather be alone for a while.”

George hesitated, then moved to sit at the edge of the bed. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

You shook her head again. “George, go enjoy the win. This is your moment.”

He frowned. “But I want—”

“Please,” you interrupted softly, looking at him with an expression that made his stomach twist. “I just need some time.”

And that was when he realized—you had forgiven him, but that didn’t mean you weren't still hurt.

A pang of regret hit him hard, but he nodded slowly, standing up. “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you later, then.”

You offered a small smile before turning back to your book.

As he closed the door behind him, the weight of his words from earlier settled heavy in his chest. He had won the match, but he had also lost something far more important that night. And he wasn’t sure how long it would take to fix it.

***

I have been obsessing with the twins as of recently, and I came up with this idea. Warning, I love drama so expect a lot of it and this is going to have a few chapters, I need to figure out how to make a master list, if someone has a tutorial or something, I appreciate of you let me know

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Liner and Lip gloss

"Pads sit still I'm going to mess up." Remus tried to keep his hand steady

"Alright, sorry, just excited for the ball."

"Who'd ya ask anyways?"

"No one yet."

"Pads the ball is in two hours."

"I'm aware."

"You aren't hot enough to get a girl in two hours."

"Piss off. "

"Don't think I will Siri."

"Oh fuck you."

"What was that? Sorry I couldn't hear you from down there."

"Mangez de la merde et mourez."

"Really? You can't think of a single creative thing to say so you start speaking in French."

"You have to agree it's hot."

"Who's been lying to you?"

"How dare you, anyways I know who I'm asking, just hoping they'll say yes."

"Good luck with that, they probably already have a date you know, most people plan ahead."

"Who are you going with?"

"I'm not going."

"What! Why? Moony please it'll be fun, James and I are pranking all the Slytherins."

"Nope, can't be bothered. Anyways I don't have a date."

"I'm sure plenty of girls would go with you, you're hot."

"Don't want to lie to them."

"You have to like someone, just hope they don't have a date and ask her out."

"Pads... can I tell you something..?"

"Are you alright?"

"I-I'm gay." Sirius pulled him into a hug,

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're not mad...?"

"Why would I be mad Moony?"

"My dad kicked me out when I told him."

"Shit- I'm so sorry."

"He hated me anyways, just the final nail in the coffin. It's fine, I survived, anyways turn around I'm braiding your hair."

"Moons, can you help me ask this person?"

"Are you sure they don't have a date?"

"Certain now,"

"Okay...? How do I help exactly?"

"Say yes."

"Wha-"

"Remus will you go to the ball with me?"

"...no shit Sherlock."

"FINALLY, MERLIN'S BEARD HE HAS BEEN PINING OVER YOU FOR YEARS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW PAINFUL IT'S BEEN TO WATCH BOTH OF YOU ACT SO CLUELESS."

"Prongs, are you okay?"

"Now that I don't have to listen to Sirius planning how to ask you out every single quidditch practice yes."

"It wasn't ev-"

"Yes, yes it was. I have them a written down, extreme detail, with the date because I knew you would say this."

______

A lil wolfstar cuz I've been wanting to write about these two dorks for last three years

[abysstrap-ran]

❖ Sweater Collection

(Theseus Scamander x Reader)

Tags: Humor, Fluff Length: 880 Collection: Shots to a “Merry” Christmas

A/N: It's most definitely not the season, but presenting my oldest works from 2018, Shots to a "Merry" Christmas. Yeah, I know. I have the long-standing tendency to write during Xmas season... despite not celebrating said festival, but that's besides the point!

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

—In which a bet is lost and they're now your dress-up doll for the day, for good or for worse—

“…Didn't we agree not to bring work home?” You heard someone sigh as they came up to you, peeking over your shoulder to see the multitude of sketches in front of you.

“Hello, Mr. Scamander! How may I help you today? Would you like one of our new suits or would you rather take something a tad more festive?” You grinned at him, flashing two of your newly made sketches at him as he pulled a face on your take on professionalism. 

“What do I have to do to get your mind off your work for once?” He muttered as he plucked the papers off your hands.

A flick of his wand and the mess of papers on the table arranged themselves into a neat stack and a swish made them all disappear from where they were, earning a disgruntled complaint from you.

“Hey! Don't magic my papers away, give them back!”

You were admittedly a little miffed at his little charade due to it being the holiday season, which was a busy time for a fashion designer for a clothing apparel store like you. 

“No.” 

“Please?”

“No.”

“I bet you'll end up giving in to me by the end of the day! And then I'll make you wear stupid sweaters all the way till Christmas when you do!” 

Theseus rolled his eyes and walked away. 

“Nice try but that's not happening.” He paused. 

“But if I do win, and I will, you'll banish all work outside the door, yes?” 

“Deal!” Mirth twinkled in your eyes as you agreed to the terms of the bet, knowing full well that he wouldn’t last. 

Not for long, anyway.

Alas, he eventually gave in to your infamous puppy dog eyes moments after. Theseus Scamander, a renowned war hero, digging his own grave and set for humiliation the next day in his own department.

The next day, dressed by the hands of one imp of a girlfriend, he got a peck on the cheek and a wish of good luck before he left for work. You were having way too much fun with this that he could see the mirthful glee in your eyes.

Oh, the joy.

He tried. He swore he tried not to let you have your way but even he knew that you had him wrapped around your little finger. To which he groaned and ran a hand over his face at the prospect of facing others decked out in such…

“Merlin’s beard, Theseus! What's with that horrendous sweater you're wearing today?” A loud voice belonging to one of his other Aurors sounded from the other end of the MACUSA's office.

The guy had spotted poor Theseus while he had been trying to sneak out of his office and grab a cup of well-needed coffee inconspicuously. Apparently, his plan had been foiled and every single head in the department turned to face him and his… Current predicament.

He had on a horrid Christmas sweater indeed.  It was a shade of brilliant bloody red with Christmas-styled patterns all over it along with “Let's get elfed up!” written in big bold letters smack in the center. He could feel his ears start to turn red with embarrassment at all the attention he was getting.

All eyes were on him at this point and he had utterly no idea how he should be reacting. Thus, he decided to settle back into his old habits and played it cool, giving a small cough before declaring. “I thought that it'd be great to make this place a little more festive seeing as Christmas is coming so I took it upon myself to wear…A celebrative artifact of sorts.” 

He got himself a few looks of disbelief before he scurried back behind the doors of his one safe haven, his office.

True to your word, you've kept him on a daily sweater schedule much to his displeasure. Knowing that he lost the bet, Theseus sucked it up and wore it…. again and again and again. Until one day, he just decided to give up hiding and simply went about the office as he usually did. 

No more hiding.

He walked out of his office with confident strides and his head held high.

“Theseus? Why does that look like something belonging to the shop a couple of streets down?”

Great, now even Mr. Graves himself had come down to preen at his newly acquired fashion sense.

He paused, sheepishly rubbing his neck before answering his higher-up. “The owner's my girlfriend and I lost a bet, unfortunately. This is the result of her getting back at me, you see.” 

There was a moment of silence before the man nodded in understanding, moving over to give Theseus a well-meaning pat on the back. 

“Unfortunately, yes. But it doesn't hurt to see your colorful collection of sweaters once in a while…Really brightens up the place.”

“Now please Mr.Scamander, we’ve got an important hearing with the board and surely you wouldn’t want to turn up in that now, would you?”

Trust Theseus to never put a bet out whenever you're involved again. He'll never be able to live it down.

Heck, he'd probably be damned if Newt ever saw him on one of those ugly sweaters.

Please sweet gods, no. Anything but that!

[whimsymoonpages]

chapter 21. hotel bartyvania

cw: language, magical mischief, playful teasing, light romantic tension, mild intoxication effects (magical potions, alcohol), lily being weird, borderline crackfic

you wake up the morning of barty's halloween party to the sound of pots clanging in the kitchen and james humming the wrong tune to some muggle song he definitely doesn't know the words to. when you wander out, still groggy and half-draped in your dressing gown, sirius is already there, perched on the counter eating directly from the pot of whatever james is burning.

"morning, love," sirius grins, his hair a complete disaster but his eyes bright. "big day, huh? ready to be the hottest stoat muggle london has ever seen?"

you groan, shoving his shoulder lightly as you pass. "i feel ridiculous already."

james peers at you over his shoulder, waving his wooden spoon like it's a wand. "nonsense. you're gonna look brilliant."

"plus, you'll be coordinated with us," remus says, wandering in with two mugs of tea. he hands you one with that small, quiet smile of his. the one that makes your stomach fizz. "that's good, yeah?"

you sip your tea, heart settling as they pull you into their usual morning mess. the house smells like overdone toast and cheap pumpkin candles. sirius is still wearing his mismatched socks. james kisses your temple in passing like it's muscle memory. it's the kind of day that already feels good in your bones.

it takes forever to get ready. sirius is determined to glue little black ears to a headband, muttering to himself about "authenticity." james tries on at least three versions of antlers—one's too big, one's too floppy, and one is perfect but he snaps it in half by accident when he trips over sirius' discarded boots.

"sirius!" james shouts, throwing the boot at him.

"careful, jamie!" you scold, carefully dragging a paint brush with black face paint over sirius' nose. you hear the potter boy mutter out a soft sorry before he pulls his wand out to mend the antlers.

remus is, of course, done first. all he had to do was pull on a soft grey jumper with thumb holes and stitches a little wolf patch to the sleeve. understated, but perfect for remus. you half convince him to let you do his face paint, but he says he's, "wolfy enough one day of the month. let's not make it two."

"how do you even be a stoat?" you mumble, digging through your costume bag. you'd gone simple: a white fluffy vest over black tights and a little black skirt skirt, a fluffy white tail pinned to the back, and soft white ears perched in your hair. it was cute in theory. on you? you weren't so sure.

"c'mon, wheeze, let's see it!" sirius calls from the other side of your door.

you roll your eyes but step out anyway, arms crossed, feeling like you've just walked into your own humiliation. "i feel ridiculous."

their reaction is immediate. the sight of you wearing clothes like this was enough to drive anyone mad. usually, you'd wear jeans or overalls to work, seeing as you'd get dirty. and to the pub? sometimes a longer skirt or cuter pants. never a short skirt like this. your body was accentuated perfectly, and the tights added an extra punch.

james lets out a low whistle, practically dropping his jacket. "merlin's beard."

remus blinks once, twice, then sets his drink down like he suddenly forgot how to hold things. he clears his throat and looks away with burning cheeks.

sirius? sirius is slack-jawed, absolutely floored, but recovers fast enough to lunge at you dramatically. "who let this dangerously hot stoat in our house?! get her!"

you laugh as he tackles you in a hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as he spins you in a little circle. "put me down, sirius!"

"never," he grins, nuzzling into your neck. "you're too cute now. it's a problem. i have to keep you."

"we were going to keep her anyways," remus' face twists up with confusion. "she's our girlfriend!"

girlfriend! yay!

james comes up behind you, looping an arm over your shoulders and leaning his antlers gently against your head. "you look perfect," he murmurs, his lips brushing your hair. "actually, you might be the best dressed out of all of us."

remus's hand finds yours, his thumb tracing over your knuckles as he looks you over like you've just rearranged his whole world. "you do," he says quietly, almost like it's just for you. "you do look perfect."

it takes another half hour of sirius fussing with his ears, james magic-ing his antlers back together, and you pinning your tail properly before you finally apparate to barty's manor.

the house is already buzzing when you arrive—music thumping, people in every corner. some of these people you haven't seen in years. others, you think barty must have picked up from the street.

barty swoops down, greeting you in a ridiculous vampire cape with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "velcome to thee party, blegh!" he puts his hands up all scary like and shows off his vampire teeth. you tighten your lips to keep from laughing hard in his face. "oh, come on, lovely! don't i look like a real vamp?"

"your costume is great, b," you say as you pat his shoulder. "can you even tell what i am?"

"well, judging by those tossers over there," he points to the boys, who are all mingling with their friends now. "you're probably that silly weasel thing from your patronus."

"my gods, it isn't a weasel! it's a stoat!"

"stoats are very good at fighting off wrackspurts, you know," pandora says as she swoops in wearing some sort of avant-garde ghost ensemble that involves layers of sheer fabric and floating candles charmed to hover around her head. "don't know how y/n manages to still have so many!"

you give pandora a hug and try to dodge the candle wax dripping from the air. "you look amazing, pans! where's xeno?"

"oh, he's right here!" she gestures to her right and smiles at a blank space. "isn't his costume so good?"

"erm—yeah, pans, it's great!" you weren't sure what else to say as she started talking to the invisible xeno, so you just walk away.

you hear the front door slam and a familiar trio enters with a loud burst of cold air—marlene, dorcas, and lily, all immediately wide-eyed at the party around them.

"holy shit, this place is insane," marlene shouts over the music, already dragging dorcas toward the drink table. "i fear we have misjudged you, crouch!"

barty smirks as she smacks him on the shoulder. 

"it's like a bloody halloween fever dream in here!" dorcas laughs, her glittery eye makeup catching the floating candlelight as she grabs a cup of pumpkin fizz.

lily lingers behind them, her eyes flicking carefully across the room, landing on james in his antlers, laughing too hard with sirius, his hand still resting on your waist. her mouth opens slightly like she might call out to him but then quickly shuts again. she smooths her skirt nervously.

you catch her gaze, and she startles when you smile at her.

"you look so good, lily!" you call out.

"oh! um, thanks!" she says, cheeks going pink. she fidgets with her sleeves, trying to melt into the crowd as marlene shouts for her to hurry up.

god, she needs a drink.

"barty this is bloody cool!" you hear sirius shouting from across the room. you walk over to see him poking at a full knights armor stood up in the corner. "is this shit real or what?"

he turns around and he has a grin on his face, one that tells you he's already gotten into the spiked pumpkin juice. great.

he starts pretending to flirt with the armor, grabbing the arms of it and making kissy faces. remus tries to pull him away, but to no avail.

"what the bloody hell is my brother doing," regulus hissed in your ear, his ears going red. "is he drunk already?"

"tipsy, at most," you say back with a snicker. "this is just how he is, you know that."

"yeah," he agrees with a hum. "but does he know that my boyfriend's in there?"

regulus points at the armor and your face goes pale as you understand what he's implying. suddenly, the armor moves and screams, "BLEHGHHHLELLEGHHH!"

the elder black jumps right out of his skin, screaming loud enough to shake the whole house. he jumps back and clings to remus, who looks just as scared as his boyfriend.

"WHAT THE FUCK! IT'S ENCHANTED! NOT COOL, BARTY."

evan is cackling within the armor now, and he lifts up the headpiece to reveal his face. “oh, lighten up, sirius,” he grins, cheeks flushed from laughing too hard. “you were the one practically asking me on a date five seconds ago.”

regulus, mortified, storms off in the direction of the drink table. “i need a firewhisky immediately.”

evan sighs, already chasing after him. “reg, wait—”

“reggie's going to scold him,” you laugh, watching remus disappear into the crowd.

“he’s going to scold him so hard,” james agrees, appearing at your side with two cups of pumpkin fizz. he hands you one, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. “barty really outdid himself with this party.”

you look around—the house is heaving now, costumes everywhere, bewitched jack-o-lanterns floating along the ceiling, some enchanted to sing loudly (and badly). the music shifts into something upbeat and thumpy, and you catch pandora spinning through the room like she’s weightless, her floating candles bobbing along to the rhythm. you feel a new presence by your side.

“you wanna dance?” remus asks, leaning in so you can hear him over the noise. the scent of his laundry, mixed with curacao fire, surrounds you.

you nudge him with your elbow, teasing. “you just want to show off your sweater.”

he winks. “obviously.”

he drags you toward the makeshift dance floor, which is really just a cleared-out section of barty’s manor, where the wooden floors are just slippery enough to make it dangerous. sirius spins past you, dramatically dipping james. regulus lingers near the edge of the chaos, arms crossed like he’s trying to play it cool, but the faintest, most traitorous smile curls at the corner of his mouth. his foot taps, just barely. he probably doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

then it happens. the opening riff of his favorite exploding cauldrons song blasts through the room, raw and loud and just a little bit out of tune, and your whole body lights up with recognition. without thinking, you scream, “REGGIE!” across the crowd, laughing as you point straight at him like you’ve caught him red-handed.

he immediately shakes his head, pretending he’s above it, but you don’t miss the way his smile twitches wider.

“oh, come on!” you shout, waving him in, just as remus appears at your side, shooting regulus a raised-eyebrow, c’monnn, you-know-you-want-to kind of face.

regulus sighs dramatically, but his hands are already coming up in mock surrender as he slowly, reluctantly walks toward you. “you’re insufferable,” he mutters, but there’s no real fight in it.

“yesssss, reggie!” you squeal, immediately grabbing his hands and dragging him into the middle of the floor. “dance with us, reginald!”

he groans, but you’re already twisting side to side, forcing him to bounce to the beat. he tries to resist, tries to keep that stiff, i'm-too-good-for-this posture, but then remus grabs one of his shoulders, evan’s clapping on his other side, and you’re all bouncing together, laughing and yelling and spinning in a haphazard circle that’s one stumble away from collapsing. 

marlene and dorcas crash into the group suddenly, both yelling the lyrics like they’ve been waiting their whole lives for this song. marlene grabs regulus' arm and spins him like they're dancing at a wedding. dorcas grabs your hands and drags you into a bouncing, stomping mess that has you both nearly falling over.

regulus is grinning now. really grinning. the kind of grin that takes over his whole face. you don’t know what snaps in him, but suddenly he tears away from your grip, launches himself onto the nearest table, and just starts screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs. “SPILLED MY POTION! DON’T CLEAN IT UP!”

you barely have time to process it because sirius’ voice bellows from somewhere behind you— “I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!”

and then sirius launches himself onto the table beside his brother, arms outstretched like he’s just been waiting for this exact moment.

they don’t even acknowledge each other, not more than a glance, but they’re yelling the lyrics in perfect sync, stomping their feet so hard the table shakes beneath them, hair falling into their eyes as they thrash and laugh and scream with air-microphones in hand: “SET IT ON FIRE! DON’T SAY IT WILL—KABOOM!!!”

it’s completely feral, completely ridiculous, and everyone’s too busy cheering them on to care that they’re a little offbeat, a little off-key.

"what the fuck is this, a rock show?!" barty screams before launching himself onto the group of you, forcing you to hold him up with a leviosa.

you lose track of time in the best way. james dances with you until you’re both breathless and laughing, spinning you and tugging you close by the waistband of your skirt. sirius butts in halfway through, draping himself over your shoulders and pretending to faint because he’s “simply overwhelmed by the hot stoat.” you look for barty on the floor, only to find him dancing with some random girl in a corner (not that you could call it dancing, more grinding).

you spot lily dancing with marlene and dorcas, laughing softly, finally letting herself have fun as marlene twirls her dramatically. dorcas is singing along at the top of her lungs, dragging the other two girls into jumping with her. lily sneaks glances at james every so often, her cheeks pink when she quickly looks away.

girl, please.

you end up collapsed on one of barty’s massive velvet couches, your legs draped over sirius’ lap while james sits on the floor by your feet, his head tipped back to rest against your knees. remus perches next to you, his hand brushing lazily along your thigh, his other hand nursing a warm drink.

pandora passes by and drops a dainty kiss to your temple. “you’ve collected them quite nicely,” she hums.

“collected!?” you shriek, though smiling.

“what’d she mean by that?” james asks, confused. poor, drunk thing.

you run your fingers through his messy curls. “no idea, prongs.”

“you know exactly what she meant,” sirius smirks, tugging playfully on your fluffy tail. “she meant you’ve got all of us wrapped around your little finger.”

remus hums softly, like he doesn’t disagree, his fingers still touching your legs.

barty leaps onto the table in front of you, nearly knocking over a stack of enchanted pumpkins.

"RIGHT, YOU LOT!" he bellows, swaying just enough to prove he’s fully gone now. "it is TIME… for cursed potion roulette!"

"oh, no." james groans, already smiling. "oh, no no no—"

"oh, yes yes yes!" barty grins wickedly, waving his wand and summoning a spinning wooden wheel covered in clinking vials, each glowing an unnatural shade of something awful. "rules are simple! you spin, you drink, you suffer the consequences. most of them are temporary. most."

"define most," remus calls, suspicious.

"no time!" barty shouts. "REGGIE, YOU’RE UP FIRST."

"absolutely not," regulus says flatly, arms crossed. "i brewed the potions for this, i know what hell is in them!"

the entire room starts chanting, "REGGIE, REGGIE, REGGIE—"

"you’re insufferable," he mutters, shooting a quick glare at you because you’ve joined the chant without hesitation. "traitor!"

"c’mon, reginald!" you beam, poking him in the ribs.

he exhales like the weight of the world is upon him and steps forward. the wheel clatters and clinks as it spins, finally slowing on a swirling silver vial.

barty rubs his hands together. "ah, excellent choice."

"i have to drink this shit?" regulus asks in a deadpan.

"bottoms up!" barty cackles, grabbing the back of regulus' head and forcing him to down it.

for a long, horrible second, nothing happens. and then he goes, "oh, fuck me."

he slaps a hand over his mouth.

"what, what is it?" sirius demands, bouncing like an eager puppy.

regulus’ eyes dart wildly. he motions to zipping his lips.

"what is happening, reg?" you press, pulling evan to stand by his side.

"evan’s really went all out with that knight armor. looks ridiculous, but kind of hot. is he trying to impress me? i'm impressed." regulus all but spills out, looking like he wants to hide himself.

"oh, this is the truth curse!" barty howls with delight, his eyes looking insane. "a callback to your youth, how lovely!"

"what the fuck! did you let bellatrix touch these drinks?" sirius cackles, looking into the cup as if he had hoped there might be more for him to sip.

evan leans on his shoulder, thoroughly enjoying this. "poor baby."

regulus glares at him, jaw clenched. "you have a really nice laugh and i think about it when i can't sleep."

"awwwwwwwwww!" 

"OKAY, THAT'S ENOUGH." regulus is mortified and bolts for the drinks table, grabbing the nearest juice to drown himself immediately.

"NEXT!" barty sings, spinning the wheel again.

pandora wanders over, her floating candles bobbing lazily around her head. "oh, this should be fun."

"xeno, you wanna go?" she asks, turning to the empty space beside her. "oh, look! he’s already spinning," she says airily.

the wheel clicks and lands on a vial glowing faint blue.

"oh, brilliant!" barty beams. "drink up, xeno!"

a beat.

a vial lifts on its own, tilts back, and empties into… nothing.

and then, pop! a shimmering ripple of light.

xeno appears mid-drink, blinking owlishly, as if nothing unusual just happened.

"oh, thank merlin," pandora sighs, pleased. "i was beginning to think he was late. i couldn't tell if i was pretending to introduce you to people, or if you were actually here."

the entire room goes silent.

"wait," you are the first to recover. "you mean...he’s been here the whole time?!"

pandora just smiles, dreamy as ever. "of course. he’s always here. he’s just been… misplaced."

xeno raises his hand, cheerfully, his white hair long and glowing. "good party."

barty falls to his knees, laughing so hard he starts crying. "i've been offering random bits of the air drinks all night. i thought pandora was crazy!"

the wheel spins again. "your turn, hot stoat!" sirius yells, pointing at you.

"all right, all right!" you grin, spinning the wheel. it clacks around and lands on a neon pink potion that’s pulsing like a heartbeat.

"oh, this one’s harmless!" barty insists, waving a dismissive hand. "bit of a laugh, that’s all."

"you said that about the trousers that tried to eat me last summer!" you call back.

"you survived, didn’t you?" he grins.

you sigh, downing the potion—and immediately you feel lighter. you look down and realize you’re floating. barely an inch off the ground.

"oh, no."

"OH, YES!" james whoops, grabbing your hand and spinning you around like a balloon on a string. "YOU’RE MINE NOW!"

"put me down!" you squeal, kicking your legs uselessly.

"i don’t think that’s an option!" remus laughs, grabbing your waist to steady you but just ending up being pulled along too.

sirius leaps up and dramatically tugs on your tail like you’re a rogue parade float. "hang on, hang on! i wanna see if we can make her do loops!"

"you’re going to break me!"

"worth it!"

pandora passes by, utterly unfazed. "you’re doing lovely, darling. very aerodynamic."

you spiral into helpless giggles as james and sirius swing you like you’re weightless, the world spinning around you in dizzy circles.

the party swells, the music thumps louder, regulus finally returns looking exhausted but slightly pink, and barty spins the wheel again just to see what other horrors he can unleash.

"this is the best worst idea you’ve ever had!" you call out, still floating a little as remus carefully tethers you back to the floor with a levitation charm.

"but this is the best party ever!" barty retorts, downing a bright red potion.

one thing's certain: all of you were going to feel this tomorrow morning.

previous next

taglist: @daydreamandforget

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: It's now Fred's turn to hold a grudge against you, you try to smooth over things with him by returning something of his. After unexpected events unfold at the third task, you get comforted by the last person you'd want to be comforted by. You think.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - reader is in denial once again, canon character death, grief, crying, this one is just a mess of emotions yall

Word Count - 4.5k

A/N: supriseee, this is why i changed the dates of the tasks, buckle up. this one is...a lot. sorry.

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

Fred hadn’t made any contact with you since your outburst at the Ball.

He paid you no mind when he walked past you the next day to board the Hogwarts Express. He never sent any owls like he usually did over the remainder of winter break. He nor George bothered you anymore in potions. During the second task of the tournament, Fred stood as far away as he could from you on the wooden dock.

It had been almost two months since you lost it at him and the most he did was glance in your direction and shove past you once in the hallway.

Yet, there were still constant reminders of him and you lingering around.

God, you were infuriated when you saw a photo of Fred and you had made it onto Rita Skeeter's section in the Daily Prophet.

“That bitch is a bloody liar!” You exclaimed as you looked at the newspaper.

Of course, her photographer had to get a photo at the exact moment you smiled and let out a small laugh instead of when you stood up and began shouting at him.

Now that seemingly innocent split second of a moment between Fred and you was playing on a loop in a heart shaped frame.

“Woah! Language!” Cedric was shocked yet amused by your outburst.

“Young love? This is what you call young love?” You mocked, pointing at the photo of Fred and you, “How’d she even get in? I can’t believe it!”

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Cedric shrugged, laying down on the stone bench.

“A sign for what? That Rita Skeeter has no idea what the hell she’s talking about?” You went on as Cedric closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean, come on. I smile at him for three seconds and all of the sudden I’m in love?”

“Merlin's beard, just put us all out of our misery and admit it already.“ Cedric let out a dramatic groan, rubbing his face.

“Admit what?”

"Admit you have feelings for him."

"Only the worst ones." You whacked him with the newspaper. “Besides, I already told you what happened. I’m sure he hates me now too.”

“I’m sure he’s just heartbroken. The first stage is denial.” Cedric commented, earning him a disagreeing head shake from you. “You know, some time in the future you’re gonna look back and think: Damn, Cedric was right, I am in love with Fred Weasley, I’m just too stubborn to admit it.” He teased in a high pitched voice. You hit him again.

“Shove off, just tell me how your date went with Cho.”

It seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape Fred.

Even with Angelina and Katie refusing to bring them up, even with Fred or George no longer bothering you, even with Fred literally hating you now, you couldn’t escape him.

Like when you opened your dresser doors, looking for your missing glove, only to find Fred’s hat he gave to you at the first task.

You didn’t realize you still had it, you didn’t realize you never gave it back.

He never asked for it back.

The guilt was settling in.

He never asked for it back though. He could’ve taken it back after the first task was over, or the next day, or really any other time. But he didn’t. He let you keep it. All this time has passed and he let you keep it. Why?

Fuck, you felt like you were going insane. You had to talk to someone about this.

“Cedric! Cedric!” You called out, running up to him in the empty courtyard. You were quite lucky to find him alone these days, he usually was always walking in a group of his supporters. “I need your help! I really need your help!” Cedric acknowledged you, but he didn’t stop walking.

“I’m not sure if I can help you right now, I promised to meet Cho at the pitch in like ten minutes-”

“Your snogging sesh with her can wait!” Cedric goggled at you for a second, continuing to walk.

“It’s urgent! It’s about Fred!” You grabbed onto his arm, pulling him to stop.

“Oh my- When is it not?” He groaned, his face scrunched up and scowling.

“I’m thinking about apologizing to him.” You blurted out, Cedric's face dropped into a serious stare, he paused for a moment before speaking.

“To Fred? Are you serious?” You nodded, still straight faced. “You are?” He asked again, looking at you like you were speaking another language.

“Yes! I have a plan! Hey- what’s so funny about that?” Cedric began to let out small laughs, now you were scowling.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just, you’re so deep in denial.” He said through chuckles, he actually found this humorous. “I’ve been waiting forever for this, I cannot wait til i see you two walking hand in hand in the hallways after this!” You gaped and gave him a shove.

“Hey! I still hate him! I absolutely do! I just…feel bad.” He raised his brows at you in disbelief, giving you a look that said Really? That's it?

“I’m scared that it could end badly if it doesn’t work out.” You admitted, shamefully looking down.

“End badly? Oh please, you already hate each other. How much worse could it get?”

Worse, it turns out.

You had a plan. The next time you saw Fred by himself. You would stop him, return his beanie back, and apologize. And, you would make it clear that you weren’t friends, that you still found him bloody annoying. You just didn’t want anything of his in your space.

Maybe it wasn’t the best plan, or the best way to apologize. It was also a bit weird carrying around his beanie in your bag everywhere you went. But, you didn’t know how much longer you could go having his belongings in your presence.

You didn’t know how much longer you could go with him ignoring your presence instead of bothering it.

You were able to stop him after you caught him wandering down an empty hallway. Honestly, you wanted to hide behind a pillar and let him walk past without noticing you. But, he couldn’t avoid you forever, neither could you.

“Fred?” You stepped out of your hiding place, he saw you but he didn’t show you any acknowledgement, continuing to walk with a stone cold expression.

“Fred, wait.” You called out, following after him, “Can you just stop avoiding me for a second?” You exclaimed. He drug his feet along the ground as he stopped, turning to you with his arms crossed.

“Stop avoiding you? Reckon that’s what you begged me to do the last time we talked.” He spat out, shaking his head.

“I didn’t beg-” You bit your tongue. Now's not the time for your defensiveness. This is not the time for an argument.

You reminded yourself that and took a deep breath and swallowing your anger. Fred let out a breath of annoyance as you composed yourself.

“I’m not here to apologize.” You blurted out, your plan was now abandoned. Fred's face scrunched up for a second in confusion, you rummaged through your bag hanging from your shoulder, “I’d just thought you’d want this back.” You pulled out his hat, holding it up in between the two of you, your eyes on the ground.

Though you didn’t dare to look straight at him, you could see his posture soften in your peripheral vision. Wanting to get this over with you shook it at him, signaling for him to take it.

“You didn’t have to stop me out here, you should’ve just left this on my bed or something..” He trailed off as he reached out one arm, keeping the other tucked around him as he snatched the hat from you awkwardly.

Both of you stood there in silence for a moment, Fred looking at his returned hat, you adjusting the strap on your bag.

“Uh, cheers.” He gave you a tight lipped smile, turning and walking back to his original direction.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t gotten worse than it already was between you two, but it was sure as hell awkward now.

“So you didn’t do what you said you were going to do?” Cedric stared at you, expressionless.

“I didn’t say I was going to do it, I said I was thinking about it.” You shrugged. Cedric fully sat up in a swift manner, jaw ajar and eyes narrowed as he stared.

“You said you had a plan!” He then cried out. Oh, so he was listening and not just laughing at you earlier.

“To give him his hat back! Not beg for forgiveness.” You huffed, slouching against the tree. “Besides, he never begged for mine all those times.”

Always a battle between you two, Cedric wanted to say, but he knew that’d only tick you off more.

“Yeah? And what’d he do instead?” Cedric questioned, it made you feel suspicious about what he had to say.

“He’d just go back to annoying me.” You shrugged, a bit hesitant since you could see the cogs turning in his head.

“So why don’t you?” Cedric suggested, “Why don’t you go and bother him like he always did to you?”

You opened your mouth, stammered out something unintelligible, and closed it. You had hit a wall, all this time you’ve worried about when Fred would acknowledge your presence, you weren’t doing anything to get him to acknowledge it.

You can’t say Cedric’s got a point. You won’t admit to that.

“Because I’m happy he doesn’t bother me anymore, I’m not going to put an end to that! I enjoy him leaving me alone!” You crossed your arms, putting up your wall of defense.

“No you don’t.” Cedric let out a breath through his nose, his face was stoic, unamused.

“I do!”

“You’ve complained about it a million times since he has!” He exclaimed. “Oh, Fred did this! Fred said that! Fred bothered me in class! Fred pissed me off a the ball! Fred won’t talk to me! Fred doesn’t like me!” He mimicked, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Fine, maybe you had mentioned how Fred was now avoiding you in the past two months. Maybe those mentions of it spiraled into rants, rants that Cedric had to listen all about.

You just shook your head doubtingly, Cedric sighed and moved over. He slapped a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve only seen people care this much about another person, about what they’re doing, what they’re saying, unless they loved them.” He grabbed onto both shoulders, holding on in the way coaches do when giving their players a pep talk.

“I have been your bestfriend for six years now.” He shook you slightly with each word, putting an euphemism on them. “And I have never, never, seen you care so much about another person. Maybe, you should think about that.” He gave a sympathetic smile, the silence letting his words sink in.

Nope. You weren’t going to let it.

“Piss off! I am not in love with him!” You wriggled out of his grasp. Cedric grumbled.

“You should think about it!” He repeated, putting his hands up in defense.

The bell rung for the next class. Cedric stood up, giving you a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

“Tell me how it goes, when you're stuck with him in the Gryffindor section of the pitch.”

“Tell me how winning feels, I’ll let you rub it in my face. Good luck Ced.” You smiled.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

The third task began at dusk, the sun beginning to set and casting a golden glow on everything.

Now it was pitch black outside, Fleur had been pulled out early, and it felt like there were no signs of the task being won by the other three anytime soon. Your leg bounced wildly up and down in anticipation. Angelina and Katie noticed, you could see them staring in the corner of your eye.

“Something feels wrong, it’s been nearly three hours.” You spoke out, resting your head in hand.

“It’s a twenty-foot-tall maze, it’s gonna take a while for them to figure it out. Especially with your thick headed loverboy.” Fred blurted out, voice laced with mockery. You hated it, you were only stuck near him because Angelina and Katie were.

“Will you stop calling him that? You don’t have to be so rude all the time.” You said, exasperated already.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Fred muttered as he eyed you.

“It is a giant maze with whatever is in there. It might take a while.” Angelina said in a nicer way than Fred, budding into your and his blooming debacle.

“I know, I’m just worried that something might go wrong. Like, what if something messes up?” You gestured, biting your nail.

“He’s made it out of the past two just fine, I’m sure he’ll make it out of this one charming as ever.” Fred blurted, earning pointed glances from Angelina and Katie.

You tried to ignore your anxieties, trying to focus on whatever Katie and Angelina were chatting about. But your eyes kept darting back to Fleur on the sidelines, and Freds shitty attitude towards you wasn’t helping. Godric, is this how he felt all the times you’ve been pissy to him?

She looked terrified when she got pulled out, the tear stains on her face were obvious. You could see her rambling to the teachers about something, causing some of them to blink and give each other concerned glances.

She had seen something.

“What’d you think happened to her?” Katie took a look at Fleur, who was now surrounded by a group of girls clearly trying to comfort her.

“Don’t know. Maybe it was just too much for her.” Angelina shrugged, letting out a disappointed breath.

“She looks horrified.” You thought out loud. Eyes now locked on Fleurs face.

“I would be too. Battling dragons? Having to swim in the black lake? Going through a dark maze in the cold? Seeing all that, I’m a bit glad my name wasn’t picked.” Angelina muttered, leaning back.

“You’d have to pay me more than a thousand galleons and a dumb cup to get me to swim with ze Grindylows.” Katie nudged, mimicking Fleurs accent, earning a small breathy laugh out of Angelina and you.

Awhile after Fleurs return, a loud whoosh was heard, you got a glimpse of Cedric and Harry falling into the ground together.

The entire stadium shot up from their seats, including you. There was an uproar of cheer and the band playing the classic march.

“Did you see? It’s Harry and Cedric! They got back at the same time!” Angelina shouted, still clapping.

“Oh don’t tell me it’s gonna be another tie!” Katie groaned out. Fred and George pushed past the three of you, already excitedly running down to the field. Angelina grabbed onto your and Katie’s hands, creating a chain to follow them.

By the time you were hopping down onto the grass, a harrowing scream came from Fleur, she cupped a hand over her mouth and looked away.

Before you got to the front of the already forming crowd around the two champions, you could tell something was off.

None of Cedrics friends were cheering, neither were Harrys. Even the twins were dead still and staring.

As you got closer to the front of everyone, the music stopped and the noise of the crowd died down. Going from cheers to concerned whispers. You could hear the sobs of someone.

“No! He’s back! He’s back!” It was Harry. His voice was hoarse and heavy.

Pushing your way between the twins, now standing in front of them, you could see what was going on.

“He’s dead!” Harry cried, clutching onto Cedric’s limp body when the teachers tried to pull him off.

Time felt slow, stopped, frozen. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, all you did was stare. Feet stuck to the ground, and it felt like the only thing you could do was watch with wide, terrified, and glossy eyes as Harry grasped onto your bestfriends body, sobbing over him.

“Diggory's dead!” A horrified voice from the stands yelled, causing the entire pitch to fill with gasps and more whispers.

Soon the sight took hold of you. The scratches and blood smudged around Cedric’s pale face, his wide open yet lifeless eyes, his body having no reaction to being shook and held onto.

He was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead. The boy you grew up with, the boy who you saw as blood, the boy who was your bestfriend, was dead.

Taking in a shaky breath and blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes, you attempted to step back, stumbling a bit and bumping into Fred’s chest.

“Oh shit,” Fred looked down at you, noticing the stray tears that had fallen from your eyes, “Oh shit, don’t look. Don’t look.” He grabbed onto you. You unconsciously yet willingly turned your body to his, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, attempting to prevent you from staring at the sight in front of you any longer.

“Don’t look.” He repeated.

Everything after the night of the third task felt foggy. It was a blur. Hell, it was a blur since then.

Classes were canceled for the next few days. Most days blended into each other, even when classes resumed normally. It was all foggy.

Most days you weren’t focused on anything. Stuck in a weird state of dissociation. Everything felt static.

You didn't remember a word Dumbledore said at Cedric’s memorial in the Great Hall. You didn’t cry with the others, you just sat and stared.

Even though you were usually in a daze, you still noticed things. You heard what people would talk about. You had ears, you could still hear.

“I’m worried about her. I haven’t seen her cry or…do anything really.” Katie whispered to Katie once you got up from the table.

“I know. I mean, we all have our own ways of grieving, maybe this is just hers?” Angelina leaned over.

Of course your friends tried to talk to you, not about what happened. But have regular chats, though you didn’t add much to the conversation, single worded responses or a short sentence.

On the nights you couldn’t sleep, you sat in the common room. Usually staying there until you went back to your bed, staying awake and sleep deprived the next day until you fell asleep where you were sitting in the common room.

“Hold on, shhh.” Fred stopped George as they snuck back into the common room, returning from another late night run to Zonkos. Fred pointed you to, knocked out on the leather chair.

“Should we wake her up?” George whispered, looking over at your curled up position and closed eyes.

“No, let her sleep, she needs it. I don’t think I’ve seen her actually go to bed in days.”

You noticed the faces you got from others when you walked by.

Pitiful glances. Sympathetic smiles. Apologetic looks. You noticed it all. You hated it. You hated being reminded of it. You hated feeling this way.

A shell of yourself is what you felt like. When you walked through the halls you felt like you carried the same presence as one of the ghosts in the castle.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Cedric passed and you still found yourself doing things you normally did with Cedric.

Stopping in the hallway after McGonagall's class in hopes to talk with him before he went in. Skimming your eyes around the Hufflepuff table looking for him. Waiting in the Courtyard after the school day for him to stop by and chat.

It was strange. It was like your brain hadn’t processed that he was gone.

You often wandered around, going on walks to clear your mind, even though it never worked. You found new places to sit and hide at.

Tonight, it was the Astronomy Tower. Rarely anyone came up there this late, the cool wind on your face helped ground you, and you had a pretty damn good view of the starry sky. You’d get in trouble if you were caught out here, especially with the strict rules they enforced for the rest of the year after what happened at the tournament.

You sat against the planet structure in the middle of the tower, your back against the hard marble while you brought your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Swaying yourself gently side to side, you stared at the sky, almost not catching the quick footsteps coming up the stairwell.

Fred appeared.

Fuck. Why is he here?

“Hey.” He greeted quietly, putting his hands in his front pockets once he felt the cold air hit them. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

You stared at him for a second, a bit confused on many things. He gave you an awkward smile.

“So, what’re you up to?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Why are you here Fred?” You unraveled from your position. Your tone wasn’t mean, it wasn’t snarky or sarcastic, it was sad. Defeated. Fred noticed.

“I was looking for you.” He unraveled, “I was worried. Katie told me you weren’t in your bed or the common room. Her and Angelina were freaking out looking for you, they thought you might’ve…done something.” He mumbled the last few words.

You only stared at him for a few seconds through lidded eyes, an unamused look on your face.

“I'm not up here to throw myself off the astronomy tower, if that’s what you assumed.” You muttered, turning your gaze back to in front of you.

“No! No! Not at all! I didn’t assume that.” Fred squeaked, trying to defend himself, “I was just a bit concerned, is all.”

“Since when do you care?” You muttered, only paying attention to his last sentence. Fred spent the last two months hating you, but oh, now your bestfriend is dead and of course he feels guilty for being so mean.

“I just…I’m worr- a lot of us are worried about you.”

“You should be worried about Cho, I know I am. She’s doing worse than me.” You huffed, you weren’t trying to sound mean, you were telling the truth. You knew Cedric's death was tearing the poor girl apart, she was his girlfriend for Godrics sake.

“Yeah, she’s driving herself mad.” Fred tried to joke as he looked down, but failed. “She’s worried about you too though.” He said softly. You let out a small hum, picking at your pajama pants.

The both of you stayed there for a good few seconds, maybe a minute, silent and awkwardly keeping your eyes away from each other.

You took in a sharp breath, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know what to do.” You looked over to him, “What am I supposed to do? With everything?” Your voice cracked a tiny bit and it made you cringe. Did Fred know how to handle grief? Probably not, but he knew what you were asking.

“I don’t know.” Fred's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You clenched your jaw to try and keep from crying.

Giving him a nod and tight-lipped smile at his response, you bit the inside of your cheek and turned your head away when a few stray tears fell.

This is the first time you’ve cried since Cedric’s death.

It was horrible. You hated that you were crying, and that Fred was there to see you so vulnerable, or that he was talking to you, but you didn’t think it mattered during that moment, you just needed comfort. You would really take any comfort too at this point.

“Can I sit?” He nodded to the empty spot next to you.

“I don’t care anymore.” You shook your head and shrugged weakly.

Fred walked over and sat a comfortable yet close distance next to you, his long legs bending at the knees.

“Can I ask you a question?” Fred played with a loose thread on his sweater, likely knitted by his mum.

“Sure.” You didn’t have the energy in you to say no, or be snippy towards him, you felt exhausted.

“Were you in love with Cedric?” Fred looked at you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, a small bit of hope bloomed in Fred’s chest, he’d gotten a classic reaction out of you. You hadn’t become a shell of yourself, you were still you.

“No.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I know everyone thinks that. But I wasn’t. He was a brother more than anything.” Fred wanted to let you know not everyone thought that, mainly just him, he was just curious.

“He was too in love with himself,” You joked, “Always so cocky.” Fred noticed the way the ends of your mouth slightly curled up as you shook your head.

“Yeah? I always knew he was too thick headed for his own good. He’d probably use the reflection of the cup as a mirror.” He breathed out, a lighthearted attempt to make you laugh. It worked, somewhat. A slight smile appeared on your face as you let out small bits of laughter.

“I’m serious, Lee told me that he caught him posing in the sink mirrors in the prefects bathroom!” Fred began to laugh with you, as you laughed even harder, your body bending forward a bit due to it.

This is the first time he’s ever made you laugh.

His laughter was mostly confused. He was puzzled at how you could find that to be this funny, until your weak chuckles turned into strong sobs. You broke. Crying into your hands.

Fred wasn’t sure what to do at this moment. His way of comforting was humor, and it worked, but not the way he expected it to. So, he just hugged you, he actually hugged you.

He closed the small gap between your bodies and wrapped two long arms around you. And you let him. You didn’t hug him back, you just sobbed, letting your heavy limbs fall and lean yourself into him.

He had one arm wrapped around you, holding you tightly while the other was brushing his hand over your hair.

It was strange, you didn’t care that Fred Weasley was hugging you, holding you. You didn’t try to shove him off, or break out of his grasp, you were too exhausted to protest.

Instead, you shifted into a position where you could grasp onto him, you wrapped your arms around his lanky torso, crying into his chest, letting out heavy sobs that wracked your entire body.

You said his name through a sharp breath, Fred cupped your face with both hands as you brought your head up to look at him.

“Fred, I’m sorry.” You broke down again, “I’m so sorry.” You said through sobs.

“Shh, it’s alright. Save all that for later. It’s alright.” He shushed you, pulling you back into your cradling position again.

If you told yourself from just a few months ago that this was happening. You would’ve never believed it. You would’ve never thought it’d be a real moment between you two.

But tonight, it was, it was real, it was happening, you were crying on the top of the astronomy tower while Fred Weasley, out of all people, held you.

You tried to apologize, and you sobbed into his chest while Fred Weasley, raked his fingers through your hair and held you.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog@five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @weak-aesthetic @whotfskai @m00nymarauder @miaandthediamonds @hpstuff244444 @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @honeybee240 @pillowjj @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @imamexican @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx

[theladyofshalott1989]

🌈️ Hogwarts Legacy Pride Week: Day Three!

Prompt: Friendship

"I Get By with a Little Help from My Friends"

[ AO3 Link ]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is a little help from your friends to get you out of a sticky, relic-induced mess. Or into one. Either way, Sebastian's friends mean well. (Probably.)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3461

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Male MC (Damien Evans)

Tags: POV Sebastian Sallow; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; In the Shadow of the Relic Quest; Timeline Shenanigans; Bisexual Sebastian Sallow; Pining Sebastian Sallow; Sebastian Sallow Is Bad at Feelings; Crush at First Sight; Friendship; Developing Friendship; Humor; Banter; Short Sebastian Sallow (yeah, I made it a tag; you're welcome)

Author's Note: I wrote this one shot eons ago, and it has gone through a fair few iterations (LOL). Thank you to the HLMCU for their patience and for letting me borrow their MCs again. Y'all are the best. Love ya! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

@hogwartslegacyprideweek

Sebastian Sallow had gone quite barmy.

Not that he knew it. 

Yet.

But the more he shook the damned relic in his hand, which didn't seem to be doing anything at all, the angrier he became. 

Well, at least Anne was here. Although, to Sebastian's great frustration, so was Ominis, since he'd been lurking in the shadows, as he was so often wont to do. Never mind that Sebastian had to incapacitate them both. Cheers to Petrificus Totalus for that. At least something proved useful. 

"So, did you have a plan here, Sebastian, or what?" That was Adelia, naturally. Sebastian and Adelia butted heads a lot. Today was no exception. 

"Right?" said Jane, standing to the right of her. Jane and Adelia were, to put it kindly, the most unhinged of his friends, so, naturally, they tended to band together when it came to teasing him. "He clearly has no idea what that thing does." 

Sebastian could clap back too, though. "Would you two shut it?" he snapped. He was trying to think. If only he had lost them before he reached the catacomb. But he hadn't. So, here they were. 

And so was literally everyone else—because, of course, Alyn, Cal, Theo, Val, and Ale had also decided that sticking their noses in other peoples' business was a brilliant idea. Having so many friends was great and all, but it also had its downsides. Three heads were better than one, sure. But eight? Eight was just ridiculous. 

Friends, ugh!

So much for being stealthy. So much for getting this done quickly and pulling the wool over everyone else's eyes. So much for all of Sebastian's sly planning.

Merlin's beard, the Sorting Hat must have been having a laugh when it placed him in Slytherin, for cunning, he was, apparently, not. 

"Have you tried, I don't know, setting the relic on fire?" Cal suggested, ever so helpfully, with a casual shrug. 

Sebastian glared. "As much as I enjoy the concept of fire, and all of the spells that conjure it, I'm not convinced that's the best method of approach."

"I was just throwing it out there." Cal sidled over to the cavern wall, then slid down it in a leisurely way, crossing his legs when he reached the bottom, looking far too relaxed. 

Sebastian would have laughed if he hadn't been so damn frustrated. The relic was supposed to be the answer to curing Anne! So why did it seem so worthless?

It certainly looked powerful enough—its jagged triangular shape, ominous red glow, and human skeleton design practically screamed Dark Magic.   

And yet here he was. In a dark, damp catacomb. Holding the blasted thing aloft in the air. And nothing. 

Sebastian had had enough. With great aplomb, he chucked the relic at the ground. 

There! The relic deserved it. 

Val and Ale flinched at his sudden movement, while Alyn and Theo let out a pair of perfectly synchronized yelps.

"Whoa," Adelia said, stepping forward. "That was… dramatic of you. I suppose I'm not surprised."

Sebastian dropped to his knees in the dirt and groaned. "Not now, Adelia." Head in hands, he tugged at his hair. What next? Surely this wasn't his last option. Surely there was another way. Anne had to be well. She simply had to be. Sebastian would make it so. 

"Everyone, look!" Theo whispered. He sounded oddly concerned. 

Sebastian's head shot back up. 

The relic was trembling. And glowing much brighter than before. 

Jane, who had been closest to its new position on the ground, took a quick step back, then said, "Should we, erm, do something about that?" 

Sebastian locked eyes with Adelia. 

"What are you looking at me for?" she asked. 

"You're the one who takes the most risks of all of us," Cal answered for Sebastian. He rose from the floor and strode toward the relic. He leaned down to peer at it, then leaped back when it let out a hiss reminiscent of a steaming teapot. 

"Yeah, Adelia, I'm gonna let you sort that out," he said as he made his retreat.

But, as it turned out, there was no time, for a heartbeat later the relic exploded in a blinding flash of light. 

//

Sebastian awoke to screaming. Lots and lots of screaming. So, uh, that wasn't ideal. 

And what was that smell? An acrid heat snaked its way through his nostrils… Oh. Fire. He knew that scent all too well.  

The air was too thick, choking. His eyes watered, blurring his vision, and he couldn't see anything past his own hands, which he had extended before him, fumbling for his wand. Ah—there. He clasped it like his very life depended on it. Which it probably did. 

Sebastian's head throbbed, and something warm trickled down his face. Blood, mostly likely. But he had little time to dwell on it, too focused on steadying himself and reclaiming his bearings. 

Someone was shouting in a different language. Hm, it sounded vaguely Latin-inspired. Italian, perhaps? Sebastian wasn't quite certain.

He staggered to his feet, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, righting him. Sebastian swiveled around to find Val. Her blonde hair, tinged faintly pink, was a tangled snarl. Her face was covered in scratches, no doubt sliced by flying debris from the… Explosion. There had been an explosion! "Welcome back to the land of the living," Val said. "Though I might need to revise that statement."

Sebastian blinked. "Meaning what, exactly?" Val didn't have a chance to respond. Before she could get a word in edgewise, an Inferius—of all the damned things!—lurched toward them, growling and hissing, its decaying arms outstretched, reaching for them, a menacing look in its beady black eyes. 

"Incendio!" someone shouted from Sebastian's immediate left. The Inferius burst into flames, only for another to take its place. 

Shit. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim, smoke-filled catacomb, he came to a deeply unfortunate realization: it was positively swarming with Inferi. 

More shouting. More spells flying. Sebastian shook his head— ow —and dropped into his usual fighting stance: confident and assured, despite the incessant pounding of his heart and the sharp, needling ache in his skull. First priority: the Inferi. Then he could figure out what in Merlin's name was going on. 

For the next few minutes, survival took precedence over curiosity. He and Val carved through horde after horde, until they finally managed to make a dent in the crowd of undead. Only then did Sebastian risk a glance around the room. 

Half of the people here he did not recognize. At all. 

Well. That was new. 

Perhaps they were people from the nearby hamlet? Yes, that must be it. Until Sebastian noticed one of them—a girl with long, springy golden curls cascading down her back. She raised her wand, and in one fluid motion, she cast a spell. Except it was no ordinary spell. 

Sebastian was familiar with that kind of magic, but he thought it was rare, to a certain extent that is. Not so rare among his friend group, but rare in the greater wizarding world. The unfamiliar girl was using ancient magic, and she pulled a move which Jane and Adelia, who were the two of his friends who used it most often, fondly called an "Ancient Magic Throw." 

And then, another one of the strangers cast the exact same, wordless spell. A handful of Inferi burst into smithereens before Sebastian's very eyes, which were now somehow even wider than before. 

Sebastian's palms grew slick. Was he imagining this? No. No, he wasn't. Val had gone still beside him. She was staring, agog, at the unexpected scene unfolding before them. 

They weren't the only ones.

The fighting had all but stopped. At least for everyone but the newcomers. Jane and Adelia stood off to the side, backs pressed against the wall, panting. Across the room, Alyn and Theo had frozen, Theo holding a vial of Wiggenweld to his lips but not drinking. Cal leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking like this was all some elaborate joke. Beside him, Ale looked as though he wanted to say something; his mouth gaped open until he noticed Sebastian was watching and he snapped it shut.

Val leaned in, whispering something in Sebastian's ear.

"What?" he said, completely missing what she said amidst his confusion and the spells being slung this way and that around them. 

"Who are all these people?" she, allegedly, repeated.

"Haven't the foggiest." 

Sebastian's eye snagged on a tall young man at the back of the room. His blond hair was drawn into a low, twisted bun, more akin to a woman's hairstyle than a man's. He was almost painfully thin for his height, as if he subsisted on nothing but air and water, yet his spellcasting was nothing short of masterful. His wrist-flicks were razor sharp, so precise it cut Sebastian to his core. He needed to duel whoever this stranger was, to see what more he could do. 

But later. Obviously.  

For now, Sebastian could only watch as the young man moved with such elegant grace that, for a moment, it didn't seem like combat at all. It was a dance—an unfamiliar one, sure, but swift and fluid, totally mesmerizing. Sweat poured down the stranger's forehead and into his eyes, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Not one bit. 

"Sebastian!"

"Sorry, I was…" He hesitated. No way in hell was he admitting that he was distracted. 

Luckily, Val didn't press the issue. 

And then Ominis was bellowing in his face.  "What in Merlin's bloody name were you thinking, Sebastian?"

Ominis shoved him. Hard. Very hard. Sebastian nearly fell backward on his arse, but managed to catch himself. Somehow. Ominis was so much taller than him. Not that now was a great time to dwell on such an infuriating fact. 

"Ow!" 

"You fucking deserved that, and you know it." Ominis clenched his fists at his sides; his face turned a bright tomato red. "How could you? How could you do that to your sister? To me?"

"I was trying to help her," Sebastian shot back, an edge to his tone. Bitter, but also… apologetic? No, not that. Never that. He had nothing to apologize for, after all. 

Speaking of Anne, where was she? 

A spell sliced through the air from behind him. Expelliarmus. 

His wand wrenched from his hand and flew across the room. Sebastian whipped around, his expression darkening.

Who dared strip him of his wand?

Oh. 

It was Anne. 

That… made a lot more sense than he cared to admit. But still. Still.

"Hey! In case you haven't noticed, I was using that." He gestured at the Inferi still swarming the room as another spell whizzed past him, striking down one that had been mere seconds away from pinning him to the ground.

"You're welcome for that," Adelia called over her shoulder as she bolted past him. 

The tall blond boy was now casting alongside another young man with wavy black hair. Their movements were strikingly similar, almost as if they'd spent years dueling together, although Sebastian had the oddest feeling that wasn't actually the case. The dark-haired one was just as graceful, but for some reason, Sebastian couldn't tear his eyes away from the blond. It was utterly perplexing. 

"Watch out!"

The warning came from a girl with short brunette hair, deep shadows under her eyes, and a prominent scar slicing through one of her eyebrows. 

The warning was for him.

Sebastian yelped and ducked to the side, slamming straight into yet another strange girl, this one with dark brown hair and a pale complexion. To his immense surprise, she apologized to him. 

How many girls were in this catacomb? If he were a different young man, there would be far too many girls to choose from. WHOA, don't get there, Sebastian. It wasn't as if they were prostrating themselves at his feet. Although… hm, there was an image. 

But alas, yet another completely different girl snapped him out of his pleasant imaginings, shouting, "Vaffanculo!" 

Oh yes. That was definitely Italian. And Sebastian knew a curse word when he heard one. 

And then the Inferi were on them again. When would this end? And where had the Inferi even come from in the first place? 

Everyone was fighting them now, which was a good thing. And when the last Inferius burst into flames and dissipated into ash at Sebastian's feet, they all paused, breathing hard, forming a giant lumpy oval, gawping at each other in stunned silence.

"Who are all of you?" Jane asked. 

The curly-haired girl raised a perfectly contoured eyebrow. "I could ask the same of you." She turned her nose up, sniffing in indignation.

The girl with the scar spoke next, directing her words at Sebastian, her eyes narrowed. "Did someone cast a Shrinking Charm on you?"

"What?" 

"You're positively miniscule. It suits you." She brought her free hand to her mouth, as if to stifle a laugh, but then seemed to change her mind, dropping her hand back down and letting out a loud, unladylike snort. 

"I am not!" Sebastian shot back, extremely offended. 

Ominis, who Sebastian hadn't realized was still standing nearby, muttered something under his breath. Anne must have heard him because she burst into laughter as well. 

Was everyone out to get Sebastian today? Even his own sister?

The dark-haired girl with the kind eyes cut in: "I really don't think now's the time to be insulting people—"

"I wasn't insulting him! I was just making an observation. It's not my fault that it was funny."

Someone cleared their throat. At first, Sebastian thought it was the blond boy, but then he realized it was, in fact, the other one that had been fighting alongside him. "She has a point. Do you not know who I am?" he asked Sebastian, his brow furrowed. "Obviously not," Sebastian scoffed back. As his dark-haired interrogator stepped back, seemingly affronted by Sebastian's attitude, an unreadable expression crossed the face of the blond boy standing next to him. And yet he still hadn't uttered a word. Sebastian wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to hear his voice. Why wasn't he speaking? 

By then, of course, the Italian girl was muttering obscenities again. All of the strangers had spoken aloud except for the one Sebastian most wanted to speak. Typical. 

You know what, he was going to have to say something, wasn't he? 

"Kneazle got your tongue?" Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes at him. 

The boy brought his hands to his chest, gesturing with a "Who, me?" look on his face. "Yes, you! Are you mute or something?" 

He shrugged. 

Oh, for Merlin's sake!

"Fine, don't talk. There are enough people in this catacomb for me to have conversations with for days."

Well, maybe it turned out that wasn't true. For the moment the last word slipped out of Sebastian's lips, he realized that everyone had broken off into small groups and they were all chattering amongst themselves. He and the blond boy were the odd ones out. 

He glared. 

The blond boy glared back.

"Do you have a name?" Sebastian said, holding back a sigh. 

"Evans. Damien." "He speaks! I'm Sallow—"

"Sebastian," Damien cut in, rendering Sebastian speechless for once. "Sebastian Sallow. I know."

"How? I've never seen you before."

He nodded, frowning. "Yes, I realize that now. I think we might have a problem."

//

It soon became clear that Damien was correct. They had a rather large problem. 

And it was looking like it might very possibly, extremely unfortunately, be Sebastian's fault. But, erm, playing the blame game wasn't ever productive, so it didn't really matter all that much. Or so Sebastian told himself. 

If only the rest of the people in the room thought similarly.

"Sebastian! What is wrong with you?" That was Alyn. She didn't usually yell at Sebastian in such a manner, so it was a tad bit concerning. 

"I didn't know that the relic was going to do whatever it did!" Sebastian yelled back. 

In fact, no one was even sure what had happened. All they knew was that the strange new people had been fighting Inferi—and, to his horror, his uncle—alongside another Sebastian Sallow. Some tall, dark, and handsome imposter, apparently. Something had then yanked them all out of the battle and dumped them unceremoniously into the catacomb with him—the real Sebastian—and all of his fellow… schoolmates. Friends. Loads of them. So many that sometimes he wondered how he'd managed to make so many. 

And hm. It seemed as if Sebastian might also make some new friends out of whatever this was. Some nicer ones even, like Jo. She appeared to be the most friendly of the lot, although it didn't go unnoticed by Sebastian that she stayed as far away from him as physically possible when introductions were being made. 

Perhaps Matty? Although she was acting a bit awkward too, eyeing him quizzically. 

Tori appeared annoyed, although she seemed to have found a friend in Val. They stood shoulder to shoulder whispering something or other to each other. He had a mind to shout at them to share whatever they were saying with the class, but he held his tongue. 

"Sebastian…" 

Sebastian shook himself back to awareness, wincing as he remembered his head still ached horribly. Damien blinked back at him. 

"This is, erm, going to sound strange, seeing as, uh, everyone seems to be cross with you right now—"

"What's new?" Sebastian interrupted. Friends were allowed to be cross with each other. Better that than silence. "Get on with it."

Damien narrowed his eyes. "Forget it." 

Sebastian sighed. Perhaps he should let him speak. At this point, there was nothing he could say that would surprise him any more than he'd already been surprised today. 

"Sorry," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It's been a day." He paused, then added, "As I'm sure you're very aware."

Damien laughed. It startled Sebastian entirely. Not just because he didn't expect it, but also because the timbre of it enchanted him. Too much. Damien's laugh was deep and low, throaty, but also sweet, like clotted cream spread across a piping hot scone, Sebastian's favorite. 

Sebastian had a mind to slap himself. Now was not the time. And anyway, what even was this feeling? He wasn't entirely sure. Whatever it was, he hated it. It made him feel weak, vulnerable. His skin was even tingling! How positively revolting.

"You're different," Damien said, "than my Sebastian, that is. But you have his sense of humor." 

Sebastian's eyebrows raised involuntarily. "Do I?" Why did his voice sound so high-pitched? He coughed, then repeated the question, lower this time. Yes, that was better. Much better.

"Mhm. Anyway, as I was saying, are you alright?" 

Sebastian's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Did you hit your head when you fell from…"—DON'T SAY HEAVEN, SEBASTIAN. DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT—"...wherever you came from?" Phew, that was a close call.

Damien laughed. Again. "I did, actually. It hurts rather a lot."

"Oh," Sebastian mumbled, remembering he had a Wiggenweld in his robe. "Here!" Making contact with the vial and pulling it out of his pocket, he thrust it at Damien, shortly before recalling it was the only one he had, and his head hurt too. Oh well, Damien probably needed it more. 

Damien's lips curled up into a shockingly genuine smile. Sebastian noticed he had a dimple. Just one. 

Stop noticing things, Sebastian, he internally screamed at himself. This was stupid. 

"Thanks," Damien said, his eyes sparkling. Golden-brown, deeply hypnotic, absolutely breathtaking. Quite literally. Sebastian was suddenly very light-headed.

Dammit.

"Are you two done?" Cal cut in. "Salazar's beard! You literally just met."

What was Cal insinuating? Never mind, Sebastian still needed to find a cure for Anne, assuming whatever nonsense that occurred with the relic didn't also miraculously heal her in the process. Wouldn't that be quite something though? 

Speaking of the relic, where was it? It must be around here somewhere…

Anyway, Sebastian supposed the more pressing issue was that they needed to figure out what to do with all the new people. How were they going to get everyone back from their place of… origin? From where they… began? From… whence they came? 

This was a fine mess they'd all landed themselves in. Well, there was nothing for it but to set to work. Whatever that entailed. But where to begin? 

He supposed the first step was to gain their trust. Make some new friends. He was good at that for some reason. Friends, then. That was simple enough.  

//

MC tag list: @accio-bagel @girl-named-matty @savingsallow @espressoristretto-patronum @leaping-toadstool-caps @freddiestheproblemchild @ravenwind-75 @ps-cactus

[hazyange1s]

HL Characters’ Tricks and Treats

It’s my favorite day of the year so before I go and fall into a candy/cocktail coma tonight… here’s a few ridiculous headcanons about the HL characters on Halloween 👻

Sebastian

Dresses up as something scary/clever/historical like a character from a horror novel. Definitely uses magic with his costume to make it more realistic (is that actual blood?!)

Would DIE for a haunted house. He’s the one laughing and having the time of his life at the front of the pack.

Probably asks to take a moonlit walk through a cemetery. What, it’s romantic!

He is Scottish, and they’re quite superstitious about Hallowe’en. Seb doesn’t walk across the street when he sees a black cat or anything, but he’s very respectful towards the dead (barring the aforementioned graveyard romp)

Scares everyone — teachers, his friends, Hogsmeade shopkeepers. The only person he can’t seem to get is Ominis, and it haunts him.

Would say cheesy little things to his S.O. (or friends) like “if I pull a trick on you now, will I still get a treat later?” 🙄

Ominis

Doesn’t really understand Hallowe’en or care about the holiday, but his friends love it so he goes along (begrudgingly).

Dresses up as the same thing with slight variations every year unless Sebastian can wrangle him into something else. Definitely likes classic/scary costumes i.e. vampire

The guy clinging to his friend/partner in the haunted house (usually Poppy; she doesn’t mind).

In my lore, he owns a little black cat and is highly protective of her on Halloween. Like takes her everywhere (sadly some people are known to harm black cats on this day ☹️)

Denies most party invitations because the energy is just too much. If he does come, he’s in the corner talking to like two people and drinking lmao

However, he’d secretly live for mischief night type antics and would come up with the most devious pranks. Never gets in trouble for a single one.

Garreth

Bought out Honeyduke’s by October 1. Most of it is for him and he’s in a coma by midnight.

Creates a drink that tastes like candy corn and gives you so much energy you can’t fall asleep until sunrise. Nobody in the castle sleeps that night and the professors are running around literally stopping kids from bouncing off walls.

Dresses up as a pun/something silly (obviously) or “badass”— could show up as a knight or as Merlin with a really long beard just so he can say “Merlin’s beard” fifty times. Would totally show up to class dressed as Professor Sharp and get detention for it.

Cracking jokes in the haunted house and messing with the actors until they have to kick him out.

Is either in an all-out war with Peeves or has teamed up with him to pull a practical joke on the Slytherins.

Enthusiastic pumpkin-carver and apple-bobber. Did the Monster Mash before it was cool.

Amit

Gotta be honest, can’t see him being a big fan of Halloween. He’d rather be in front of a fire writing his memoir than out with all the hooligans (aka his friends)

IF someone can manage to drag him out of the common room, chances are it’s his partner and he’s stuck to their side like glue all night. The unfortunate victim of many a prank.

Costume consists of different astronomers every year, which are remarkably detailed. Sometimes he’ll mix it up and try out a mummy or something from mythology.

Will likely refuse to step foot in the haunted house, but on the off chance he’s persuaded, Amit flinches at every little sound 😅

Knows a lot about the history of All Hallows’ Eve and will tell anyone within earshot.

Not a fan of ghosts (I mean, they are a bit unsettling), although they all seem to love him — he’s just got a soothing presence, I guess.

Natty

She didn’t grow up celebrating Halloween like everyone else did, so she could really take it or leave it. But it can be fun!

In Africa, they focus on the oldest traditions of this time of year by honoring their dead. Natsai and her mom would probably pay homage to her father.

Doesn’t wear a costume her first couple of years in Scotland, but by sixth year she’s decked out in something pretty. I could see her dressing up as a powerful female historical figure like Cleopatra or Morgan le Fay.

Honestly might go for a couples’ costume and would dutifully think of the perfect one. Always coming up with good ideas for things to do, too.

Is eerily chill in the haunted house. Nobody even sees her flinch until the very end, she’s too busy herding everyone to notice what’s going on.

Enjoys a good scare, but she doesn’t really like to scare other people (unless they deserve it).

Poppy

Her and her gran had little Halloween traditions, but she never got to fully appreciate the holiday until she started making more friends at school.

Often dressing up as some type of magical creature (shocker, I know) or a cute/whimsical being; like a unicorn or a dryad.

Is down for the count after about three Butterbeers at the end of the night and needs to be carried back to Hufflepuff common room.

Gets moderately scared at the haunted house; still braves it admirably. Is pushed to the middle of the group for protection since she’s the smallest 😂

Makes special treats for the creatures and would probably yell at anyone who tried to force their pets into costumes oop

Loves to decorate the dorm/common room with enchanted lights and wreathes and shimmery cobwebs.

Imelda

Pretends to think that Hallowe’en is ridiculous but secretly LOVES it. She’s counting down the days as soon as school starts.

It’s the day before the first Quidditch game of the year so honestly don’t be surprised if she disappears for a few hours to practice. Or makes the rest of the team join.

Has the best costumes and you’ll never guess what she’s going to show up as. One year it’s a Holyhead Harpies player, the next it’s a disturbingly convincing zombie, and another she goes as Sebastian to piss him off.

Fighting people in the haunted house. You touch her? You lose a hand. You touch Poppy? You die. She’s kicked out even before Garreth.

Has no qualms about spooking the underclassmen (watch out Zenobia) — or anyone, for that matter. Absolutely BRUTAL.

Tells a great scary story, and she can make them up on the spot. They’ll just give you nightmares for a few weeks, it’s fine.

[myfavcharacterdidntdrown]

Another silly microfic I wrote cuz I’m boreddddd

“Ugh.” said Evan disgusted as he glared at Remus Lupin and Sirius Black making out in the middle of the hallway. “They’re so disgusting,” said Barty rolling his eyes.

“GET A BLOODY ROOM!” Evan yelled as they walked past them.

“You know they can’t do it in their dorm room right? And that means that they can’t get a room.”

“Huh? Why?” asked Evan turning his head to look at Barty questioningly.

“Potter is busy in their dorm shagging someone and he would actually be dead if Sirius found out.”

“How do you know that he’s shagging someone in their dorm room?”

“I don’t see Reg here.” he said shrugging. “What about you? Do you see him?”

Evan shook his head. “No…”

“Wait. Don’t change the subject.” Evan said fiercely.

“I’m not. I swear.” He threw his hands in the air like someone was holding a gun to his head.

“Oh you totally are, you piece of shit.”

“No…”

“Okay, then tell me how Potter shagging someone in his dorm and Reg not being here are con-“ He saw Evan’s face going completely white like Dumbledore’s beard. He wanted to take a mental picture of his expression. It was hilarious. “Oh…” he said as the realisation hit him.

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t know man, he actually didn’t tell me either. I walked in on them-“

“Okay. Ew, no details please.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Whatever.”

They walked through the halls in silence. Until Barty suggested something.

“Do you want to listen to them?”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Evan snapped at him.

“Oh come on, it will be fun, I promise.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Barty smirked. They made their way to the Gryffindor entrance and snuck in as the entrance was still open, after some Gryffindor students just entered.

They made their way to Potter’s dorm room. Evan put his ear on the door, trying to hear them. Barty did the same.

“Do you hear it?” Evan whispered.

“Hear what?” He whisper yelled.

“The noise of the bed shaking.”

Barty listened more carefully now and holy shit! He could hear the fucking bed shaking. Evan chuckled as they continued to listen.

“What in the name of Merlin are you two doing here?” Pandora suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They both jumped, surprised and shocked.

“Wh- what? Nothing.” said Evan.

“What are you doing here?” Barty hissed at her.

“I gave the notes I took at herbology to Lily because she couldn’t make it to class today. You still didn’t answer my question.” She raised an eyebrow at them as she crossed her arms.

“Well what do you want us to say? ‘We’re listening to our best friend getting shagged by stupid strut king Pottah’.”

Pandora looked at them in suspicion. Then her gaze softened and she smiled.

“Well, make some room for me then. I’m not missing this. Our best friend getting shagged by the Gryffindor quidditch captain. Hah. Who would’ve thought.”

She put her ear on the door to listen too. They listened for a few minutes till they heard someone moan something in French.

“That’s hot.” said Pandora.

“Pervert.”

“That’s your best friend, Pandora.” said Evan.

“I’m just checking on my best friend because I am concerned. He might get hurt. You never know” she said with a puppy face.

“Oh fuck off.” Evan chuckled.

The three of them lost balance as the door they were leaning on suddenly opened.

“Oh shit,” said Evan, almost falling.

Barty and Pandora couldn’t save themselves and fell on the floor, right on their stomachs. “Ouch,” he muttered. Barty looked up to see Regulus glaring at them.

“Seriously?” he asked them.

“Uhmm-“

“You know it’s not what you think, we were just checking on you.”

“Yeah since you’re on your period, I thought you’d like some cookies.” said Pandora as she stood up and lifted the snack she had in her hands suggestively.

“He’s on his period?!” Evan and Barty asked at the same time, looking at each other with an amused expression.

“Yeah…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Dude I bet the bed is a fucking mess right now.”

“Like a crimson river or something. The poor bed.” Evan said as he laughed.

“The crimson night sky, a painting made by Regulus Arcturus Black.” Barty said laughing his ass off.

Regulus looked so pissed.

“We will talk about this later.” He said angrily as he walked off. The three of them continued laughing. James looked rather confused. He wasn’t really used to their weird shit yet. But he also looked kinda flustered because they all knew what they’ve been doing in the room.

Barty knew Regulus would be mad at them when they returned to their dorm but now he was just enjoying the funny moment with his friends. Yes it was kind of offensive and mean but hilarious at the same time. And yes he will apologise to Reg but take every chance he gets to rub it in his face.