#dorian is gryffindor

[epsilonblack]

This song has been playing in my brain (and playlist) for weeks now.

If you haven't listened to The (After) Life Of The Party - Fall Out Boy — do it.

I've loved this song since it came out. And now I know why.

You're welcome.

[miapotterismyfav]

Innocence

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Summary: Sirius Black thought he had Y/N all figured out—until one offhand comment sends his world into a tailspin and unearths far more than he bargained for.

Matching: Siriusxfem!reader, Remusxfem!reader

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It’s my bday so here’s an extra long chapter xx VERY ANGSTY

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Chapter Seven: You Can’t Keep Burning Like This

Y/N cast the hex before she even heard her name.

Mulciber stumbled back, arms flailing, as a swarm of miniature, screeching birds erupted around his head, clawing at his ears and eyes. The corridor stilled.

"You filthy little—" he started, but the screeching drowned him out.

“Say one more thing about Lily,” Y/N said coolly, wand still raised. Her voice was low, but it carried.

A few students stared at her like she’d sprouted horns. Not because of the hex—because of who she was. Carrow family, pureblood, Slytherin. She wasn’t supposed to protect the Muggleborns. She wasn’t supposed to hex Mulciber, of all people.

The spell dissolved when McGonagall appeared around the corner with an uncanny sense for tension. She took in the scene in seconds: Mulciber red-faced and dishevelled, Y/N composed but sharp-eyed, and Lily standing halfway down the hall with wide, stunned eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N,” McGonagall said, quietly. “My office. Now.”

—————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, Y/N sat stiffly in a straight-backed chair, chewing the inside of her cheek.

McGonagall didn't speak right away. She conjured two teacups, added a spoon of honey to one, and slid it across the desk.

Y/N blinked.

“I don’t need—”

“You need something,” McGonagall interrupted gently. “Drink it.”

The tea was warm, sweet, and unfamiliar. It made her chest hurt.

“You know the rules about duelling in corridors,” McGonagall said, sitting. “But I also know what he said. And what he’s said before. So you’ll get detention, yes—but not a letter home.”

Y/N stared down at the teacup. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll hear anyway.”

McGonagall looked at her with something like sorrow. “I’m sorry about your family, Y/N. But I’m not sorry you’re choosing to be better than them.”

It was the first time she’d heard anyone say it like that. Not whispered in fear or anger—just said, plain and sure.

And she didn’t have a single word in return. —————————————————————————

She didn’t eat in the Great Hall anymore.

Some days she claimed she was busy. Others, the Marauders wordlessly brought her a plate and let her eat on the floor of their dorm, legs crossed, Sirius reading upside-down beside her while James lectured Peter about the importance of protein.

Remus didn’t sit too close. Not like he used to. But he’d pass her things—salt, pepper, a copy of the Daily Prophet—without being asked. Their eyes met once. Just once. And something cracked open between them, but neither of them reached for it. —————————————————————————

She spent more time in the Forest. The edge of it, anyway. Always with a slip from Pomfrey in case she was caught. Brewing wolfsbane was delicate and deliberate and familiar.

It kept her hands busy. Her mind quieter.

Regulus passed her in the hallway one night—late, after curfew. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t even slow. But his hand brushed hers for the briefest second and tucked something into her palm.

It was a tiny note, folded into the back cover of The Picture of Dorian Gray. He’d underlined a passage.

“There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel no one else has a right to blame us.”

She read it three times. Then tucked it in her pocket. —————————————————————————

The whispers were louder now.

“She’s turning on them.”

“I heard she hexed Rosier last week.”

“She sleeps in the Gryffindor Tower now.”

“Is she even in Slytherin anymore?”

The answer was complicated.

Her own common room was like a war zone—cold stares, muttered insults, shoves when no one was looking. Her bed was torn once. She stopped going. She told Slughorn it was a temporary arrangement for “safety reasons” and he didn’t press.

Now she drifted between the boys’ dorm beds like a ghost in borrowed jumpers. Some nights Remus read to her until she fell asleep. Others, Sirius gave up his bed and crashed with James, who made a whole scene about how “his back is basically a national treasure” and refused to give it up twice in a row.

Once, Peter slept on the floor and woke up covered in sock lint.

She loved them in a way she didn’t have words for.

And hated that she needed them so much. —————————————————————————

It was a Saturday morning.

The kind where the enchanted ceiling above the Great Hall mirrored soft clouds and late autumn light. Students lingered longer than usual over breakfast, dragging out conversations and laughing with full mouths. Y/N had just slid onto the Gryffindor bench beside Sirius, eyes a little heavy from a sleepless night in the Astronomy Tower, when a heavy owl landed in front of her with a thud.

The table fell quiet around her.

The owl was unmistakable — pristine white, far too elegant for a school delivery, its leg bound with heavy cream parchment and a wax seal bearing the Carrow family crest. Old blood. Impossibly cold. Her family's.

Sirius froze beside her. “That’s from them.”

She didn’t respond. Just untied the envelope with a steady hand, breaking the seal that held back everything.

James looked up from his toast. Remus and Peter went quiet.

She unfolded the letter.

Y/N,

Your continued defiance and disgraceful associations with blood traitors, half-bloods, and worse have left us no choice. Your actions — including aiding a known werewolf and being seen fraternizing with Muggleborns — are an embarrassment to the Carrow legacy.

Effective immediately, your Gringotts vault is frozen. Your wand will be reported for replacement and reassigned under supervision. You are no longer welcome at any Carrow estate or under our name.

Transfer arrangements to Durmstrang are underway. You will be extracted from Hogwarts within the fortnight. Do not contact Reginald or Lavinia again. We are not your family.

This decision is final.

— Father

She read it once. Then again.

And then she folded it in half, creased it cleanly, and placed it down in front of her plate.

She didn’t cry.

She just stood.

No sound. No outburst. She rose like it didn’t hurt at all and walked straight out of the Great Hall.

Sirius was on his feet a heartbeat later. James after him. Remus, too, lips pressed into a thin line. Peter shoved aside his goblet, knocking over juice in his hurry.

Even Lily got up, following faster than she probably meant to. —————————————————————————

They found her just outside the Hall, leaning against the corridor wall, arms crossed tight. Her face gave away nothing — not rage, not heartbreak. Just stillness.

“You alright?” James asked carefully.

She nodded. “I’ve been disowned.”

“We figured,” Sirius said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “They’re transferring me. Durmstrang. Imagine me trying to blend in there.”

“You’re not going,” Lily said.

“Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I have no money. No wand. I’m not technically a Carrow anymore.”

“Good,” Sirius snapped. “Carrows are bastards.”

She didn’t disagree. —————————————————————————

That night, she stayed in the Gryffindor Tower again.

Remus was already sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading. She wordlessly climbed in beside him, shoulders tight, eyes distant. He didn’t ask anything — just handed her one of his old, threadbare jumpers and pulled the duvet higher.

Across the room, Sirius dropped himself onto his bed with a dramatic huff.

“She can take mine tomorrow,” Peter offered.

From Remus’ bed, Y/N gave a small, tired smile.

And in the dark, with the quiet breathing of boys who had somehow become her family, she realised it didn’t matter what her last name was anymore. —————————————————————————

Sirius had been brooding for the better part of the morning.

Remus had noticed it—of course he had. He always noticed things, especially when it came to Sirius. Like the way his cereal had been viciously stabbed rather than scooped. Or how he'd snapped at James for humming. Or how he’d accidentally singed the edge of his Defence essay with his wand when Y/N had wandered into the common room that morning, wearing one of Remus’s jumpers.

Remus had noticed that too.
And he’d looked far too pleased about it.

“Since when does she wear your clothes?” Sirius muttered as the two of them headed down to the courtyard together, James trailing behind with a Quaffle and no clue.

Remus didn’t look up from the book he was flipping through, but there was a flicker of smugness in the corner of his mouth. “Since she started falling asleep in my bed more than yours.”

That shut Sirius up for all of five seconds.
“Yeah, well, she’s always in mine first.”

Remus gave a quiet laugh, like that was a child’s argument. “She likes to talk to me before she sleeps. Said I make her mind quieter.”

“I make her laugh.”

“You make her loud,” Remus corrected. “There’s a difference.”

They stepped out into the sunlit courtyard just as James launched the Quaffle into the air, calling for them to get their arses in gear. Sirius barely moved. His eyes were locked on something across the lawn.

Or rather, someone.

Y/N.

She was perched on the low stone wall, legs crossed elegantly at the ankle, one hand propping up her chin, the other tracing lazy circles on someone’s thigh.

Remus followed Sirius’s stare and stopped dead.

The someone was Benjy Fenwick.

And Benjy—charming, annoyingly attractive Benjy—was laughing at something she’d said. His head tipped back, sun catching the streaks of auburn in his hair. And then she leaned in, smile curling like smoke, and kissed him.

It was a soft thing. Slow. Familiar.

Remus blinked.

Sirius swore under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I thought she hated Hufflepuffs,” Remus said faintly.

“She said he smelled like hay once,” Sirius hissed.

Across the lawn, Y/N pulled away and tucked her hand into Benjy’s collar, straightening it with a sort of intimate focus that made Sirius feel like he might combust. She laughed at something else, carefree and entirely unaware of the emotional crisis unravelling twenty metres away.

James, catching up and thoroughly unimpressed with their complete lack of Quidditch enthusiasm, glanced between them. “What’s up with you two?”

“Benjy Fenwick,” Sirius snapped.

“Ah.” James followed their gaze. “Y/N and—oh. Oh. That’s… wow.”

“She’s touching his hair,” Sirius added bitterly.

Remus folded his arms. “It’s too clean. No one’s hair is that clean. It’s suspicious.”

“Do you think she likes him?” Sirius asked, clearly hoping the answer was no.

“She’s kissing him, Padfoot. What do you think?”

“But maybe she’s just practising.”

“Oh, come off it.”

They stood in tense silence, all three of them now watching like the world’s worst spectators.

“She kissed me last week,” Sirius muttered.

James blinked. “What?”

“Only on the cheek. But it felt… significant.”

Remus snorted. “She fell asleep on my shoulder. And kept mumbling about how warm I was.”

Sirius wheeled on him. “That’s because you’re a human radiator, not because she wants to shag you.”

James raised a hand like a mediator. “Should we maybe… I don’t know… talk to her?”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius and Remus said in unison.

Across the way, Y/N stood and handed Benjy something—his jumper, maybe? Her hands lingered on his chest for a beat too long before she turned to go.

“Act natural,” Sirius hissed, nearly toppling over a bench to sit.

Remus adjusted his collar and opened his book again like he hadn’t spent the last five minutes having a silent breakdown.

Y/N spotted them, smiled, and wandered over.

“Hey,” she said lightly, the sun making her eyes gold at the edges. “What’re we up to?”

“Definitely not watching you snog Benjy Fenwick,” Sirius blurted.

Y/N’s smile widened, wicked. “Oh, so you were watching.”

“Hard not to,” Remus added coolly. “You were practically in his lap.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t faint, Remus,” she teased. “All that public affection. Must’ve been traumatic.”

James, ever unhelpful, gave a low whistle. “So, uh. That a thing now?”

Y/N shrugged. “We’re just having fun. He’s sweet. Smells like—what did I say once? Hay?”

Sirius grunted. “And yet you kissed him anyway.”

“I kissed you once and you still smelled like smoke and regret,” she replied breezily.

Remus choked on his own breath.

James actually dropped the Quaffle.

Y/N winked and leaned in to kiss Sirius on the cheek again—exactly where she had the week before. Then turned to Remus, gave him a look that was impossible to read, and plucked the book from his hands.

“Try page 394,” she said, flipping to it and handing it back before strolling off.

Remus stared down. The passage was highlighted. It read:

“Love is not always loud. Sometimes, it’s the hand that stays when the room clears.”

Sirius leaned over and read it too. Then scowled.
“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” Remus muttered. “Tell me about it.”

And from across the courtyard, Y/N didn’t look back.

She didn’t have to.
They were both already watching.

—————————————————————————

James and Sirius were wrestling in the corridor outside the Great Hall. Not fighting—just bored. Sirius had stolen James’ glasses five minutes earlier and was now ducking around stone pillars while James blindly swatted at him like a furious bat.

“You look brilliant,” Sirius called. “Truly. Very chic. Retro.”

“Give. Them. Back.”

“I’m helping you build character, Potter.”

Remus emerged from the library just in time to see Sirius vault onto the bench like a cat and James crash gracelessly into a tapestry. Peter trailed behind, chewing a sugar quill, expression unreadable.

“Do we ever… act normal?” Remus asked.

Peter shrugged. “What’s normal?”

Then Sirius froze mid-taunt.

Across the courtyard, just beyond the carved archway, there she was.

Y/N.

Perched on the edge of a low stone wall. Wind in her hair. One leg crossed over the other. And a girl beside her, leaning close, whispering something in her ear. Y/N said nothing in return. She just smiled — slow, unreadable — and lit a cigarette with a flick of her wand.

The girl looked smitten.

Y/N looked... absent.

There was something about her posture, her eyes. Detached. Like she wasn’t really there at all. Just performing herself. Cool and composed in her combat boots and black jumper, but the boys exchanged a glance. Because she looked more like a ghost than a girl.

Sirius’s smile faltered.

“That’s the third time this week,” Peter muttered.

“She’s just—” James started.

“She’s not,” Sirius cut in.

Remus said nothing. Just kept watching. A tiny crease between his brows.

“Maybe it’s just her blowing off steam,” James offered, halfhearted.

“She hasn’t stayed in the Tower in four days,” Sirius said. “No one’s seen her in classes. She’s not even showing up to Pomfrey anymore.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Peter added. Quiet.

They kept watching as the girl leaned in for another kiss and Y/N obliged, patient, a little bored. When the girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said something that made her laugh, the boys saw it: the way Y/N’s eyes didn’t crinkle. The way her hand gripped the stone edge of the wall just a bit too tightly.

“She’s pretending,” Remus murmured.

They didn’t approach.

Not then.

Instead, Sirius dropped James’s glasses into his hand without a word and walked back toward the castle. The rest followed, slower.

No one said it aloud, but they all thought it:

Something’s wrong.
And none of them knew how to bring her back.

—————————————————————————

The Room of Requirement pulsed with music and candles that hovered mid-air like sleepy stars. Bodies moved through the haze, laughing, spinning, pouring cheap firewhisky into goblets like it was lifeblood. The Marauders hovered near the back wall, drinks in hand, half watching the crowd.

“She’s here,” Remus said, quietly.

James followed his gaze. “Bloody hell.”

Y/N stood near the enchanted window, wearing combat boots and a tiny black slip dress, glitter smudged beneath her lashes and a drink in her hand like it was the only thing keeping her upright. She was leaning into the curve of a tall Slytherin — Rosier. His hand was already on the small of her back.

Her smile was wide. Too wide.

“She’s wrecked,” James murmured.

Sirius was already pushing through the crowd.

He reached her just as Rosier murmured something into her ear that made her laugh — sharp and hollow.

“Y/N,” Sirius said, gentle but urgent.

She turned to him, smile lighting up her whole face. “Sirius!” She said it like it was a beautiful surprise. “You came!”

He blinked. “Yeah. Are you—are you alright?”

She touched his arm lightly. “I’m great. Don’t worry about me, okay? It’s a party. Have fun.”

Sirius searched her face for something — pain, warning, even a flicker of performance — but she looked… happy. Tipsy. Warmed by drink and noise.

Rosier leaned in. “Problem, Black?”

Sirius ignored him. “Y/N, can we talk?”

She smiled again. “Nothing to talk about, sweetheart. Really. I’m fine.”

And then she was walking away, fingers entwined with Rosier’s.

Sirius stood frozen.

Remus appeared behind him seconds later. “She okay?”

Sirius shook his head. “No. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

—————————————————————————

Rosier pushed her against the wall of a cold, empty corridor near the Transfiguration wing. They were half in shadow, half breath.

“Filthy little Gryffindor, whore” he muttered against her throat. “Bet you love the way they all look at you. Like you’re ruined.”

She didn’t flinch.

“I bet you spread your legs for all of them first. Bet they didn’t even have to ask.”

Still, she didn’t move.

“You’re lucky I’m even—”

“Don’t stop,” she said softly, even though she hated the sound of it. Hated herself.

He laughed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

She didn’t cry. Not until it was over. Not until he left her — skirt rumpled, hands shaking, lipstick smeared — hunched in a cold stone alcove.

She pressed her forehead to her knees and tried to breathe.

And that was when Sirius found her.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just crouched in front of her, eyes taking it all in — the bruises blooming too quickly, the hollow look in her eyes.

“I’m disgusting,” she whispered.

Sirius shook his head. “No. You’re hurting.”

“I let him talk to me like that.”

“I know.”

“I thought it might… cancel something out. That maybe if I—if I made it worse, I wouldn’t feel anything anymore.”

“You don’t have to punish yourself.”

She broke.

Right there, in front of him, in the cold corridor. Shoulders shaking, tears falling silently. Sirius wrapped his arms around her, pulled her against his chest and just held her.

“I didn’t even like him,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I thought if I could feel something—” She broke off, voice hitching. “It just made everything worse.”

That was when she looked into his grey eyes with her tear stained ones.

And Sirius, who didn’t cry, not really — not for himself — blinked hard against the sting in his own eyes.

“Come on,” he said, voice rough. “We’re getting out of here.”

He carried her through the castle like she was weightless. No one saw them. No one needed to. He whispered the password (stolen from Remus weeks ago) and kicked open the door.

Sirius drew the bath himself, warm and full of rose-scented steam, and helped her out of the wreck of her clothes without ever looking too long. He let her cry. Let her talk. Let her say nothing. He sat on the floor while she soaked, head resting against the cold tiles, and when she was ready he helped her into an oversized Gryffindor jumper and pulled her into his chest again.

“Come back with me,” was all he said. She nodded her head, and laced her fingers with his. She didn’t speak. He didn’t push.

They climbed into his bed in the dark Gryffindor dorm. James and Peter were snoring. Remus’s bed was empty.

Sirius slid under the covers beside her. She turned into his chest without a word.

He stayed awake listening to her breathing. It slowed, then hitched, then slowed again.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

And when he let his hand run gently through her hair, he realised he was crying too.

When morning came, she was still tucked against his side, makeup long gone, eyes swollen, and Sirius was still awake, eyes red, arms locked around her like he might lose her too.

The others found them like that. And something in all of them shifted.

They didn’t make jokes that morning.

No teasing.

Just quiet looks, furrowed brows, and James pulling Peter aside to whisper, “We need to do something.”

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Tags:

@bache3, @amatoanima, @captainlunaxmen, @sodavrr, @mayuwolfstar, @the-lavender-girl, @beekeepingageissome, @starmaniii, @infinitely-astro, @cupidblyss, @alexandra-001, @aqua0928

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[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

I need some Theodore nott or Mattheo riddle x Gryffindor fem! Reader fluff and maybe soft smut and she’s reading in his lap while he’s leaning against the bedpost reading with her holding the book and Turing the pages while she keeps reading it and it’s super smutty and she just traces his arm veins while they read (and if you decide to make it smutty pls make the reader LOVE LOVE LOVE his hands, abs, arm viens-) can it be a longer fic?

Theodoreee's scenario

Imma see what I can do about the length babes dw about it

You avoided Theodore's eyes because you didn't trust yourself. And for good the reason. Not only did his voice hold a power over you...so did his arms. You were laying in his arms reading The Potrait of Dorian Gray with him. It was an interesting book. If only you could concentrate.

His long fingers gripped the book, a singular one Flipping the page ever so often, his veins on show. You sucked in a deep breath as you tried to focus away from him. You kept reading the same line over and over again.

Your mind however disagreed with the idea of ignoring him, flashing you with images of his arms doing questionable things. Your face flushed slightly as you curled in more into your self.

Theodore Nott was bored out of his mind, The potrait of Dorian Grey was something he'd read a million times. You began to trace his arms bringing his attention to you.

Glancing over at you a small smile light up his face. He notice the light pink on your cheeks, how your eyes were clearly unfocused, how your legs seemed to press together closer than normal.

"What's on your mind love," he had an educated guess but wanted to hear it from you. You didn't respond which only feuled his guess. But he needed to test the theory.

You were incredibly zoned out that you didn't hear him. Theodore smirked and started his attack. One hand held the book and the other hand snaked around your waist. Theodore Nott knew what was going through your mind and he planned to replicate just that.

He flipped a page one handed as his other hand fumbled which your thin shirt. He swore when he first saw you come in, your breasts greeted him first.

He'd been itching to take it off you ever since. He innocently slid his hand up you stomach slowly. You were still calm as having not noticed. He tested the waters and put the book down. You were too zoned out to care.

He wanted to laugh at that but kept calm. Later

He continued his quiet trek up to your breasts he didn't touch them just yet instead his now freed hand journeyed south towards your shorts. He slid past the elastic barrier.

He knew it.

Your cunt was warm and soaking wet, his index finger made contact sending shocks up your spine effectively waking you up. You lurched sending your breast into Teddy's hand. With a smirk he gripped it and with his thumb and index twisted it slightly.

"Teddy~" you gasp which turns into a whimper as he continues his assault. "Theo what ah-" your objections turn into soft mewls.

"Need your shirt off love think you can do that for me," your hands claw at the hem before tossing it. His thick veiny hands around your breasts made you clench around his finger.

Theo's low laugh sent shivers all over you.

"The mere sight of my hand had you clenching so tightly around my finger, look how much of a whore you are..." he falter as you clenched around him again this time rewarding him with an orgasm.

"Fuck, I wish I could take a picture of you," your face was sublime in his eyes. He lowered his head onto your neck and lightly sucked on your neck going down.

"I'll mark you another time love," he said everytime you'd lurch from pleasure. He sucked hard on a piece of your skin leaving a slight mark.

He reached your nipple and with a slight lick electricity shot through you. You jerk causing you ended up face planting into him.

"Shit, love sorry," he said as he pushed you up slightly not quite getting you off him. Now you were sitting on him your knee on both sides of him. You watched as his hands flexed behind him supporting the weight of both of you. His shirt rose up and you locked eyes with his abs, his chest was muscular yes but you'd never really seen beneath it. You reached out and traced it enamoured with his beauty.

With a sharp breath he sat up and his back was against the bed. His shirt slowly and sadlyy moving down. You tore your eyes from his arms trying not to focus on him. His tousled black hair, his soft looking pink lips, his leg opening smile.

Fuck he was gorgeous

Unbeknownst to you, he was watching you watch him. He knew how well his arms turned you on. He knew how much one look from him would have you down and out. He knew how much you were fighting yourself.

He knew.

Even now as you muttered apologies and tried to get of him he knew it was futile.

"Stop, please," he said halting your movements. "Don't move,"

"What? Am I crushing you?" You asked moving even more. His arms reached up and held you down forcing you to stay still. Then you felt it.

Oh

"See what you do to me love," he chuckled. "Moving around so innocently not know what effect you have on me," his hands on you moved you up and down on him. "Want me to stop."

"No," you answer quick and fleeting. "Please." He laughs at your desperation.

"But first tell me what had you clenching your legs earlier hmm, before I decided to have a little fun" he continues moving your hips.

TPC.exe. has crashed

[Your thought processing capabilities have crashed.]

He stops and you whine. "Theodore," he smiles at how his name sounds from your lips.

"Answer me love,"

"You, your"

"Me, My?"

"Arms," you try to continue grinding against him but his hands hold you firmly in place.

"My arms?" He says his voice low. Suddenly he he pushes you off him as he climbs above you while you're wriggling beneath. "Tell me more."

"So strong and-and" your mind is muddled with pleasure.

"All big and strong?" He offers.

"Mhmm," you mumbled losing yourself down the rabbit hole that's called Theodore Nott.

"Fuck," he whispers into your neck. Suddenly he stands up and puts you upright. Accioing your shirt onto you, he carries you bridal style your face falling into his neck. You're confused for a minute till you notice Draco coming and the rest coming in. Theodore makes a manner of talking to you but all you can do is mumble a soft really.

"Look at you Teddy, you've bored to girl to sleep," Draco drawls. Theodore raises his wand and Draco is left pantsed. His silk underwear on show.

"OI!," But Teddy is long gone. When they reach his Dorms Theodore let's you down as he closes the door.

"We don't have to do anything," he whispers although his need seeps through his voice. "What I did earlier if you weren't comfortable or maybe you had a lapse of judgement...

"Maybe I want to do anything," you shyly say meeting his eyes.

"Fuck love," he days before he grabs your waist and brings you closer. "I plan to worship you my love,"

♡Hope it's long enough if not I can add more lmk in the comments♡

[Edited]

[Edited]

[anxiousthoughts365]

AT, these ficlets are so lovely! If you’re still taking prompts, could you please write eighth year drarry “I think I might be falling in love with you”?

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying them!

p.s. The ask before yours had a similar theme and I had the thought to combine the two, I hope that's OK!

~🐍Drarry⚡️& 8th Year Falling In Love - Part 2 of 2 ~

First part l Second part

No warnings apply

Draco was dragging his feet as he headed back to the 8th Year's Common Room. He was actively fighting against the urge to head down to the Library - he knew that he was already acting weird and creepy enough. He didn't need to risk Potter catching sight of Draco watching him study.

It was bad enough that Draco just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Potter whenever the ex-Gryffindor was around these days. Whether he was scribbling notes or shovelling food into his mouth at an astonishing rate, or laughing that infuriating, intoxicating laugh of his, Draco would find his gaze drawn almost magically towards Potter, and he would sit and stare helplessly until the other boy noticed. Only then was he able to glance away, but not without the knowledge that he'd already been caught making him blush furiously.

When he'd realised that he could no longer trust his own body not to betray him, he had taken to trying to avoid being in the same room as Potter. It had worked, in a way - at least Draco was less at risk of making a fool of himself. But it was getting harder and harder to hide his feelings, and whenever he wasn't in Potter's presence, he felt miserable and worried. Miserable, because the avoidance made his wants and desires clearer. Worried, because of the reality that those wants and desires were impossible to fulfil.

He sighed as the portrait swung open before him, trudging into the Common Room and heading for his favourite sofa. At least he might drown his sorrows for a few hours in a good book. Granger had spotted him glancing at her Muggle books with some interest on their return to school, and had started offering them to him to borrow. He'd been reluctant at first, but after accepting and quickly devouring Wuthering Heights, he'd swallowed his pride and asked for another.

He was quite looking forward to getting deeper into the story of Dorian Gray when someone cleared their throat, and he froze.

There, in his favourite armchair by the fire, sat the one person that Draco had been desperate to avoid. He instantly threw up his internal walls, even as he felt that damned blush flood his cheeks once more. Still, he tipped his nose in the air and managed to scoff, 'Stalking me now, Potter?'

'Rather rich, coming from the guy who can't seem to stop staring at me,' Potter replied, his voice unnervingly even. Draco sniffed, and tried to sneer, but then the black-haired boy leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and, holding Draco's gaze, he added, 'I think it's time we talk about that. Don't you?'

Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in a valiant attempt to hide what Potter's words had done to him. His tongue was instantly tied and his heart began to race in fear at just what he was implying. When he stayed silent, Potter narrowed his eyes and waited for a few more seconds before scrubbing at his own face with a sigh.

'Fine. I'll talk about it, then.' Draco tried to stay still as Potter stood from the armchair, but his chest tightened as the boy began to close the distance between them. 'I've noticed you looking. I've noticed you running. And though I don't have the best track record with these things, I think I know what it means.'

'And just what do you think it means?' Draco asked. He'd meant to drawl it, but Potter's increasing proximity was making him irritatingly breathless.

'I think,' the other boy murmured, stopping just in front of Draco, his green eyes dancing over his face. 'I think that it means that you fancy me.'

It's more than that, Draco's mind screamed. So much more than that. I think I'm in love with you, and I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, and I don't want it to stop. But he couldn't say that out loud, of course, so instead he said, 'Well, then, let's get this over with. Go ahead and tell me that's foolish, and disgusting. Give me all the reasons why you could never feel the same, why you would never -'

Draco was cut off by the sudden press of Potter's lips against his own. He was so startled that he didn't respond, merely stood stock still while the ex-Gryffindor kissed him. And all he could do was blink when Potter broke away, and smiled at him softly as he said, 'How about we start with all the reasons why I would?'

[the-colourful-witch]

i'd love to know more about astrid cresswell if you're willing to tell us more. such as her family, is she dirk cresswell's daughter? what's her wand like? what year was she born? etc

Hiya! I can't believe you found her! I forgot I shared an illustration of Astrid on my page a long time ago :) Astrid Cresswell is my OC. And yes, I did take inspiration for her name from Dirk Cresswell, who is an Auror at the Ministry. He was one of the Aurors who was supposed to arrest Dumbledore if I remember correctly. In Order of the Phoenix. The two of them have no relation, actually. I took the last name when I was toying with the idea of her being the daughter of Dirk, but I went in a different direction. The last name kind of stuck, oops :) Anyway! Astrid!

Astrid is a Slytherin, in the same year as Fred and George (born 1978). My story for her is:

She was raised by her dad, who is a Healer at St Mungo's, in the permanent ward. Her mother was a Muggle, who died in childbirth. Robb Cresswell, Astrid's father, never told his girlfriend he was a Wizard. Astrid grew up with her dad, who was always working. They lived in the hillside village of Ottery St Catchpole where a few more magical families were housed in the hills. Robb regularly dropped Astrid off at the Weasleys, where Molly was more than happy to look after Astrid when he went to work. And so Astrid grew up with her two best friends: Fred and George Weasley. But that friendship didn't last very long after Astrid got sorted into Slytherin House. From that moment on, Astrid and the twins became rivals. They will do anything to destroy each other, both on and off the Quidditch pitch.

Astrid is a Chaser, the only girl on the Slytherin team. She's constantly dealing with Marcus Flint's sexist antics but is determined to play. She has something to prove, after all. Her patronus is a fox and her wand is 9 1/2 inches, Aspen wood with a dragon heartstring core. It stylishly resembles ivory; excellent for duelling and charm-casting. It's a wand made for revolutionaries but can be temperamentful, reacting to uncontrolled emotions. Astrid has two best friends: Maeve and Dorian, both Slytherins in her year. Dorian plays on the Quidditch team with her, as a Beater. He wants to be an Auror, like his father John Dawlish and is ahead of everyone in their class in all subjects. Maeve is the oldest of seven girls and the only one sorted into Slytherin. Hogwarts is the only place where she doesn't have to be a parent to her sisters. She enjoys reading and is Captain of the chess club. Oh, and she has a pet: a tubby black and white cat named Tibo. Tibo likes treats and scratches behind his ears. He has one of those loud purrs.

Astrid herself has a toad, which is a surprisingly uncool pet for a girl of her status. He's called Samuel the Second. You don't want to know what happened to the first. Sebastian usually hangs out in Astrid's room, but she takes him with her to the greenhouses sometimes when she's doing extra credit work. And Astrid is popular! After finding out she wasn't ever going to fit in with her Gryffindor friends (not really friends anymore), she decided to really embrace the Slytherin identity. She is clever and cunning. She knows how to get what she wants. To everyone who does not know her, she is perfect. Prefect, Quidditch player, star student. Behind the scenes, it's a little more rough... But she tries. She wants to become a Healer, after a successful Quidditch career, of course.

I am still figuring out Astrid's story, but it's fun for me to work on her every now and then. I admit, it's been a while. I dream of writing a fic for her one day, but I am not much of a writer. I start with something and then I can't finish, because I get distracted and instead draw my characters. What can I say, I like to draw! Maybe one day I'll actually finish a first draft :)

(an older version of Astrid - I don't love how I drew this)

I would like to share some more OC work in the future, but it's been a while since I worked on my characters. All the existing HP characters take up a lot of my time at the moment. One day :) I hope you like this. I'm happy to answer more questions if you have them <3

Magical wishes, Fleur

Some more earlier concepts of Astrid..

[wvsteria]

"are you from another state?" dorian questioned. he'd been new here himself and was still getting used to dc. "i'm from out of the country so i understand."

godric & dorian ( @wvsteria )

"I'm still trying to get used to this place," godric mused, looking at the other. "it's strange being here, around all of these new things,"

[bonnieeldritch]

Bildung ist wichtig, für unsere Auroren aber auch für deren Autoren, also müsst ihr hier bitte einmal eure Rechenkünste unter Beweis stellen. War dein OC auf Hogwarts? Und wenn ja, von wann bis wann und in welchem Haus? Oder wenn nicht, wohin gings dann zur Schule und was wäre das Haus gewesen? Da es in Case 143 ja auch um Slice of Life-Connections (und etwaige Romance) untereinander gehen soll, wärs ja mal ganz cool zu wissen, wen man schon kennen könnte. 

Da Pru bereits mit 6 Jahren nach England zog, war sie tatsächlich auf Hogwarts. Ich tendiere ganz stark zu Gryffindor, was ihr Haus angeht, aber liebäugle auch noch ein bisschen mit Hufflepuff. 🫢 Die Jahreszahlen müssten eigentlich 2006 bis 2013 sein. Sie war auf Hoggie jedenfalls gut vernetzt, war so ein bisschen das tomboy girly, das trotzdem mit vielen Mädels befreundet war, Mitglied im Quidditchteam vom vierten bis zum sechsten Jahr, bekannt für ihre gute Laune - und für ihre Beziehung mit Dorian Gray(Name nur ein Placeholder), die sich in den letzten drei Jahren auf Hogwarts abspielte und sehr messy und dramatic war. 😂 Hattet ihr während eurer Schulzeit auch diese Pärchen, die sich lautstark in der Pause streiten und trennen, nur um am nächsten Tag wieder ein Herz und eine Seele zu sein? That were Pru and Dorian, Your Honor. Dorian hat noch nicht viel Charakterzüge, außer dass er halt bestimmte Dinge in der Vergangenheit getan haben muss(zB Eifersucht, nichts schlimmes!), er eignet sich also sicher gut für einen Zwischencharakter, durch den unsere OCs sich kennen könnten. 😌 Aber ich bin offen für alles mögliche, wirklich. Während ihrer Schulzeit war Pru ein richtiges Sonnenkind, immer offen und herzlich und lustig, immer für einen Scherz zu haben, bereit, einen Hippogreif von der Weide zu stehlen, sozusagen. 🌞 Nur im siebten Jahr hat sie ziemlich verbissen angefangen zu lernen und hat dafür sogar ihr heißgeliebtes Quidditch aufgegeben, ja ja. Wer da eine mögliche Verbindung sieht und drüber quatschen will, immer her damit. 🥰

[mycupofrum]

First line of my fics!

Thanks for the tag @brinkworth! (I got the notification even if my name didn’t show up on your post. Don't know what's up with Tumblr. 😄) This is fun so I wanted to do this. :)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

1. Out of time (Sirius Black/Gellert Grindelwald, E, WIP)

He knows something has gone wrong the minute the world stops spinning around.

2. Much ado about kissing (Prongsfoot, M)

That evening, James kept checking his watch every ten minutes, eager to catch Sirius when he returned to the Gryffindor Tower.

3. In the middle (Prongsfoot, Jilypad, E)

The refrigerator hums in the corner of the kitchen as James escapes from the awkward moment he just had with Sirius in the living room.

4. Birthday boy (Drarry, E)

31 July 2007

The annoyingly catchy pop song about an umbrella played for the fifth time in the pub while Harry sat there.

5. Professor Black (Prongsfoot, E)

Dear Mr Black,

Please find my essay "The symbolism in the Picture of Dorian Gray" attached to this email.

Best regards,

James Potter

6. The easiest truth (Prongsfoot, T)

His mind is empty, save for one thought: Don't be dead.

7. Just one kiss (Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, M)

Speeders rushed through the air in all directions, and the dazzling lights obscured the dreary grey skyscrapers rising high in Coruscant's restless night.

8. Need you tonight (Prongsfoot, E)

James Potter sips his drink, the sweet coconut taste lingering on his tongue.

9. Regardless (I love you) (James & Sirius, G)

It started with a soup.

10. What happens in the showers (Prongsfoot, E)

At first, it was a pure coincidence.

Tagging @lovelymasks @arliedraws @heartofspells @squintclover if you want to do this. :)

[quinnpatrol]

# PROFESSOR JADE GRIMSHAW !

GRYFFINDOR | PURE BLOOD

— Attended Hogwarts between 1971-1978.

— The Guidance School Counselor between 1985-1999.

— Her mother, Lilith Wildes, is from America while her father, Dorian Grimshaw, is from England. They are both magical beings. The only conflicted between the two is Lilith is a with that uses wandless magic that’s dates back in her family to the Salem witch trials while Dorian strictly ( and only encourages ) magic with a wand.

— They divorced around Jade’s second year at Hogwarts due her mother insanely exclaiming that their daughter was her coven’s / family’s prophet ( for lack of a better title ). Jade would then go on to spend her summers in Salem, Massachusetts with her mother and continue schooling at Hogwarts under her father’s address.

— Her father hated the fact Jade would spend her summers with her mother. He had tried to withhold her once from her custody but things didn’t work out in the end. Dorian just knows anytime Jade leaves for the summer, she’s practicing magic that he ( or the Magical Congress of the United States ) condones.

— Jade was the first ( on her father’s side ) in a long while to be sorted into Gryffindor. The majority of them were always sorted into Ravenclaw, some even Slytherin.

— To say the least && be on brand with Gryffindors, Jade was trouble. Good trouble but trouble nonetheless. She wasn’t necessarily a prankster but she was is very playful. It’s more in her humor than anything— always teasing or making cheeky comments. However, she has been known to wanna play hero due to the fact that she hates bullies. ( We all have Captain America to thank for that ).

— That being said…Jade did have conflict with James Potter ( && by default the rest of the Marauders ) more than a once. As a person, sure, Jade didn’t mind him. She had nothing against him and his mischievous behavior. What she did have against James was his behavior towards Severus Snape. “But Jade, he’s a Slytherin, you’re a Gryffindor, who cares if he gets bullied??” Honestly she still would have intercepted even if Severus was a piece of gum on her boot.

— House rivalry is so stupid to her. She gets like good ol fashioned house rivalry in Quidditch but to hold a prejudice against someone being in a different house than you is so fucking ridiculous.

— In her third year, she would make “friends” with Severus Snape after almost laying hands on James ( listen that divorce was taking a toll on this 13 year old girl ). Their friendship throughout their school years would be really rocky unsurprisingly and kept more so underneath everyone’s radar. Or, well, Severus would try to keep it very lowkey but Jade wouldn’t give a damn && tell the whole world. ( She never really did though, wanting Severus to not become any more of an outsider ).

— When she wasn’t giving Severus the hardest time of his life by being the most insufferable woman he knew, Jade would hang out with Molly Prewett. The two girls were basically best friends. Molly was a few years older than Jade but that didn’t really make a difference between the two. She was like the older sister she never had. Jade would go on to be Molly’s maid of honor and even be there for most of her children’s birth. ( I’m actually fucking up the timeline like a bitch just to make this friendship work. Molly just gonna have to be a young mother y’know. Let me have this one fucking thing. )

— Jade Grimshaw was undoubtedly apart of the Order of the Phoenix during the first war. Her friendship with Severus now at a halt for which it compromised her character. Her minor differences with James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin being squashed for the bettering of the wizarding world.

— After the events of the first war, Jade had left for America to situate her family matters over there. Returning back in 1985 to become Hogwart’s Guidance Counselor ( because Merlin knows that school needs someone these kids can fucking talk to with each and every situation that happens there ).

— Her friendship would resume back with Severus Snape. This time around, it was a little less rocky. They still had their differences in the way that they interacted with the students, the way they carried themselves, and so on. But, out of all the staff members, Grimshaw and Snape were close to one another. The students could tell. Their colleagues knew well. Anytime any of the students would come running to complain about how mean Severus was, Jade would always find herself agreeing ( /hj ) before finding a way to bring him a better lighting. And Merlin knows that if any kid talked shit about Jade, Severus would give them a death glare && warning not to disrespect their superiors again.

— #1 WEASLEY TWINS STAN !! Jade’s favorite students were undoubtedly Fred and George Weasley. How could they not be?? They were the children of Jade’s favorite woman. They were mischievous in a funny way. They were absolutely loveable. Til this day, Jade founds herself so lucky to have been a part of their life. Now— that doesn’t mean Jade loved them anymore than Molly’s other children but…yeah they knew they were her favorite. That’s probably why they got away with most of the shit they did.

— Jade Grimshaw is definitely like a mother to Harry Potter. She made sure to watch over the boy during his time at Hogwarts. And it wasn’t necessarily out of a need to protect him for James && Lily’s sake or just because he was a close friend to Ron. Jade genuinely loved the kid just because he was him.

— The guidance counselor has a sweet tooth. If you’re in need of a sweet treat, she has a drawer full of candy. She prefers chocolate more than anything.

— She’s usually dressed in lighter colored robes ( because I gotta have her contrasting Snape duh ). They’re nothing super fancy or heavy in comparison to her colleagues. Jade prefers the ability to move around very easily. She wants to look airy and free comparatively to Snape the rest of the staff.

— She doesn’t like heights. Actually, no, she hates heights. Actually, no, she has a fear of heights. Ever since her first year at Hogwarts, she hasn’t been on a broom since. And it’s safe to assume she’s never up on the astronomy tower ( or, at least, near the railing ).

— Jade enjoys muggle culture. She likes their music. She likes their movies. She likes their comic books that inaccurately portray magic. Whenever muggle born students share stories about their life outside of Hogwarts, she’s usually very invested.

— There isn’t much Jade wouldn’t do for the students at Hogwarts. It isn’t just her job to listen to kid’s problems and help them plan for the wizarding world after graduating but instead to keep them safe, nurtured, and optimistic. She is very much a mother to all the students. At the very least, an extremely fun aunt.

Okay that’s all the headcanons I have at the moment. Some are subjected to change but I’ll surely have more regardless as time goes on and I think about her more 🫶🏼

[witchthewriter]

𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬

ENTJ

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Aries Sun, Taurus Moon, Gemini Rising

*spoilers for the throne of glass series*

Formerly known as Adarlan's greatest assassin, Celaena Sardothien, Aelin is the last surviving member of the Galathynius bloodline. Her parents, Rhoe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver, died in their kingdom of Orynth, with Aelin in between them in bed.

As a young girl, she ran away from her home to escape the King of Adarlan as he brought her kingdom to its knees. She was found by Arobynn Hamel the king of the assassins (who had been entranced by the ghost of Elena). He gave her two choices: to train with him and become an assassin or to live on the streets.

Throughout her life, Aelin hid her true identity, from everyone.

At the age of sixteen, she was sent to Skull's Bay with Sam Cortland (another assassin and boy she grew up with) to enact a deal with the pirate lord. However, when finding out it was a slave deal, she and Sam set them free.

In retaliation, Arobynn beat her badly and sent her to train with the Silent Assassins in the Red Desert where she learnt more about herself than anything else. On her journey there, she met Yrene Towers in a run-down pub and taught her how to defend herself, as well as leaving her with a sack of coins. During her time in the Red Desert, she met Ansel of Briarcliff.

When Celaena/Aelin came back to Rifthold, she realised her feelings for Sam, and after a while, they decided to leave Arobynn's assassin's guild.

Arobynn did not like this. And within a few months, Sam was dead and Celaena was sent to Endovier's salt mines for avenging her lover's death.

That's how she came to be the king's champion. The king's son, Dorian, chose her as his champion. After surviving the trials and tribulations sent her way, she signed a contract and agreed to be in the king's survive for four years. To do his bidding.

Celaena and Aelin are the same woman but have slightly different personalities. Celaena is more sly, cunning, and willing to use whatever means necessary to achieve her goals. She's independent and seeks out trouble.

Aelin has a lot of responsibility to carry, she's a fae princess and the last of her line in succession. Although when she claims her original name, she has matured, Aelin starts to think before she acts.

This woman is one of the most powerful beings. Going head to head with gods and goddesses themselves, she's fallen through worlds and won wars.

[lynxindisguise]

2023 fic round-up

January - March

shorn and scarred and yours (50k, rated T, wolfstar)

A Slytherin! Sirius AU, in which Sirius is disowned after destroying his Dark Mark and finds himself homeless, friendless, and worst of all, bored. Enter Gryffindor's resident bad boy, Remus Lupin.

April - July

The Hut of the Mistold (43k, rated T, wolfstar, dorlene, jily)

Fairytale AU feat. two sexy hags, an orphaned wolf, a runaway witch, a banished prince, and a knight on a quest

August

in the dark there is discovery (11k, rated M, wolfstar)

A wolfstar Pirate! AU featuring water sign typical dampness, mortal peril, damp mortal peril, and only one hammock.

September

black and white and red all over (1k, rated M, corndog)

A cursed intro to corndog.

don't cover our tracks (6k, rated E, wolfstar)

Five times wolfstar cried during sex and the one time they *checks notes* almost didn't.

October - December

The Picture of Sirius Black (34k, rated M, wolfstar)

A Dorian Gray AU in which Dumbledore encourages Sirius to indulge his baser impulses and desires... of the murderous variety.

[epsilonblack]

[flightyquinn]

Fanfic authors might consider pulling a "Fifty Shades of Grey" and quietly filing the serial numbers off their work. Here are some possible find-and-replace terms that you can use to get you started, with a bit of my reasoning for coming up with each.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry → Wulfstaff Academy of the Arcane Arts (Fun fact; "Wulfstaff" is a semi-translation of Gandalf!)

Albus Dumbledore → Olwyn Gwenynen (Believe it or not, "Albus Dumbledore" actually means something - "white bumblebee" - and this means the same thing, but in Welsh.)

Severus Snape → Valerius Sharpe (Severus is the name of several historical figures, and Valerius Severus is sometimes know as "Severus II".)

Quidditch → Bromball (Brom is an old English word with etymological cousins in several languages from which the modern word "broom" gets its roots. As a ball sport played on brooms, the name is a play on "football". Football on brooms.)

Ronald "Ron" Weasly → Reginald "Reggie" Argyle (The focus was on having a name with a formal-sounding long form and an easy nickname, and on a last name that could be used for a later entry.)

Ginerva "Ginny" Weasly → Gwendolyn "Gwen" Argyle (Same reasoning as previous, really.)

Weaslys' Wizard Wheezes → Argyles' Arcane Amusements (Simply preserving alliteration.)

Hermione Granger → Priscilla Miller (It would be hard to find another girl's name related to Hermes, but Priscilla has similar qualities of having a mythical feel, being somewhat uncommon, and not easily shortened with a nickname. The change from Granger to Miller simply substitutes one kind of grain worker with another.)

Harry Potter → Alan Porter (No special reason. It's just the first similar sounding name I thought of, and I like it.)

Obviously I could do a lot more of these, but I don't want to spend forever on it, so I'll just finish off with the four founders, which obviously would cover their Houses as well. For each of these, my goals will be twofold. Firstly, to maintain the alliterative nature of them (unlikely as four great wizards with alliterative names may be). Secondly, to have a name that still alludes to an animal motif (though not the same animals).

Godric Gryffindor → Lysander Lionheart (Gryffindor gets to keep their lion, though you could be cheeky and replace it with a gryphon.)

Rowena Ravenclaw → Olivia Owlywix (Like the raven, owls are often associated with being clever/smart. The twany owl is known as the "billywix".)

Helga Hufflepuff → Brigitte Boarston (Boars share similarity to badgers in being both symbols of very "down to earth" qualities, but also great aggression.)

Salazar Slytherin → Dorian Dracovis (There's something poetic about flipping who gets to be the odd man out with a name evoking a mythical creature, I think.)

Seriously. I'm starting to block y'all on sight it has been quite long enough of a campaign to get you weaned off this terf's books and shows (and now games!)

[rufousnmacska]

This started as a little head canon list but, not surprisingly, turned into more. Disclaimer - I have not read Harry Potter or seen the movies in years. So, I’m sure I got some things wrong about the world. Please forgive me!

@kit-12 I hope you like it! 😊

(Trigger warning - physical abuse)

*****

- Manon first notices him one day at lunch. His laugh echoes across the great hall and pulls her attention from the book she’s reading. It’s about magical creatures, her favorite subject. Not one usually considered suitable for Slytherins, so she has it hidden inside a larger volume on curses. As she watches him sit down with his friends who are on the Gryffindor quidditch team, she realizes she’s seen him at practices. Slytherin practices. She realizes she’s seen him in the library quite often too. She realizes ... he is now staring at her. Manon sneers at him but he just continues to smile at her. Slamming her book shut, she leaves the hall. Knowing he watches her every step. The heat flushing her skin is from annoyance she tells herself. Nothing more.

- Dorian never cared for quidditch but he is a regular in the stands. That first match he attended between Gryffindor and Slytherin in his second year, that first glimpse of the all female Slytherin team - his house called them Witches, with a capital W, implying something more, something darker, than a normal witch - he was hooked. Something about their captain caught his attention and never let go. Even as the years passed and he had crushes on other people, acted on them, earned a bit of a reputation. They’d never shared a class, and their houses hated each other. But always, he felt her presence, watched her from afar, seeking out that silvery white hair she wore in a long braid. Finally - finally! - she looks at him across the long tables. As if she never knew he existed before. As she stares, he can’t help but grin. Seeing her full on, her eyes glowing like torches, her full red lips and long eyelashes ... He’s unable, unwilling to look away. Even when she tries to give him a nasty expression. He sees her red cheeks as she leaves the great hall.

- Manon pushes the boy out of her mind. Pushes everything out of her mind except quidditch practice. Slytherin calls them The Coven because they are almost never apart. They share a dorm room, have been on the team since their second year - they’ve been the team - take all the same classes. But as much as she loves flying and playing this game, there’s always a bubble of anxiety building in her before each practice or match. Always on the edge of bursting. As they soar around the stadium, following the patterns and directions they’d been given to a T, she can’t help but glance at their Head of House, watching through cold, narrowed eyes from the top row of the teacher’s box. The Matron’s focus is not on them however, but a small group of students on the other side of the stadium. Manon looks, knowing who one of them will be. Just as she spots his curly, dark hair, a beater strikes her in the thigh, almost knocking her from her broom. If not for Asterin nudging her up, she would have fallen. Those cold black eyes are now on her. And Manon knows what’s coming.

- Dorian used the cover of a dedicated group of students who followed quidditch as if their lives depended on it to view practices. The Slytherin team’s aerobatics are hypnotic, and even though he still can’t always see the moves and predict their plays, he loves watching them fly. But he hates the violence of it. Especially now, watching Manon limp off the field. As the other fans disperse, he breaks away and makes his way to the locker rooms. The Witches are silently stalking through the hall and he ducks behind a corner. Manon is not with them. He doesn’t miss the worried faces though. Once they pass, he proceeds, poking his head around the open door into the Slytherin locker room. The slap surprises him, but it doesn’t seem to shock Manon. She takes it as if it’s nothing new. As if the blood now dripping from her nose is common enough that she doesn’t even bother to wipe it away. Another slap and droplets of blood fly. Another and another. All while the Matron screams in her face. Dorian can’t turn away even if he wanted to. He wants to tackle the Matron and return the blows. But he can’t do that either. Manon’s eyes slide past the Matron and find him, watching. Her only acknowledgement of his presence is a slight widening of her eyes. A warning. Go. But he holds her gaze, trying to reel in his anger and magic, hoping to show her she’s not alone.

- Manon breathes a sigh of relief when the boy - Dorian, she found out his name yesterday - disappears before the Matron turns to leave. She is alone. Not allowed to use magic to heal herself, not allowed to go to the infirmary. Her nose feels broken and it throbs as she sits down on the bench a little too heavily. She thinks about trying to find some ice at least, but she doesn’t move. Even when she hears soft footsteps, she is still. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking a seat next to her. She says nothing. Dorian pulls out his wand and is about to wave it when she says, “No. If she sees it healed, it will be worse.” He clenches his jaw so hard she thinks she can hear his teeth grinding. Finally, she looks over at him. His brows crease as he looks at her face. His brilliant blue eyes belie a secret connection. Like he knows exactly what she’s feeling. “Can I at least...” He swishes his wand and she feels a cold breeze. She sees an ice drop form at the tip and understands, nodding for him to go ahead. He mumbles a spell and icy comfort spreads across her face. Manon sighs deeply, savoring the relief. Dorian is watching her, as if connecting dots. Quidditch is a dangerous sport. But she often has injuries that go untreated. Most from practices, which should be less violent than an actual match. He is about to say something when she stands, slowly, and says, “Thank you.” She leaves him sitting in the Slytherin locker room and trudges back to the castle.

- Dorian only catches glimpses of Manon over the next few days, in hallways or on stairs just as they invariably move away from him. She’s never close enough for him to see if her nose has healed. He hasn’t told anyone what he saw. But he notices the looks he gets from the Witches. Surprisingly, they don’t look like they want to bite his head off. Which they could maybe do, literally. They’re all experts at transfiguration and give themselves pointed teeth before matches. To him, they offer grateful, if hesitant, smiles. More like a slightly upturned side of their mouth. But he’s nodded back. Tonight, in the library, he is carrying a large stack of books to the check out desk when he passes an aisle and sees white hair gleaming in the torchlight. She’s tucked away in a cubbyhole, her head buried in a book. Dorian approaches, making noise so she isn’t surprised by him. When she looks up, some faint bruising remains on her face, but no sign of a still healing break. Reading his face, she says, “It wasn’t broken.” Then, eyeing up the books, she asks, “Light reading?” Dorian laughs. “Actually, yes.” Manon examines him, not the books, and asks, “Why aren’t you in Ravenclaw?” He stretches to see what she’s reading. A very old volume on dragons. The pages look brittle and he sees she’s wearing gloves. Something about that makes his heart warm. “I don’t know. Perhaps the sorting hat saw something more in me.” She wrinkles her nose. “Gryffindors. Always thinking they are the best.” Leaning against the edge of her desk, he says, “I’d be the best in whatever house I got sorted into.” This makes her laugh, as he’d hoped. “So you’re into dragons? My father knows people that work with them.” He doesn’t know why he brings up his father. But his eyes keep falling on the bruises and he tries to ignore them. If he can give her a happy distraction, he will. “I like flying,” she replies with a shrug. Confused, he asks, “What does that have to do with it? You want to fly on dragons? Why not hippogriffs or something ... I don’t know, smaller? Something people can actually ride.” She gives him a wicked grin that kindles the fire inside him. “Maybe I like dangerous things,” she says, clearly aware of the effect her smile has on him. Dorian grins right back, leans down close, only a few inches from her, and says, “Maybe I do too.” And then, the stack of books in his arms begins to slide and he fumbles around trying to keep them from falling. Several hit the floor and Manon begins to laugh, a clear, sonorous laugh that sends that heat rushing through him again. But she gets up and helps him gather them together. As they both crouch, picking up books, they are again very close. She stills and without looking at him says, “I’m sorry you had to see that the other day.” Dorian frowns, wanting to argue that she has nothing to apologize for. But he just asks, “Are you okay?” She looks at him as though no one outside of her circle of friends has ever asked that. And then she smiles softly and says, “Yes.” He knows part of it is a lie. But only part.

- Manon tries to avoid him in the halls but it seems like he’s always there, always just walking around a corner. Always in her line of sight. As if he’d appeared out of thin air a few weeks ago to be her shadow. Stupidly, she realizes maybe she’s the one watching for him. It takes overhearing Vesta whispering about him to Asterin to make her understand. She snaps at them to mind their own damn business and storms off to the quidditch pitch. The stadium will be empty this close to dinner and she can sulk in peace. As she whips through the air, feeling badly about yelling at her closest friends, feeling badly about ignoring Dorian, she wishes the wind would take her troubles away. Begs it to somehow put her in another house. Away from the abuse of the Matron. Away from the constant needling of the other Slytherins to bully and harass other students. Away from the constant eyes judging her if she steps out of line. She remembers Dorian’s words about the sorting hat and how it must have seen something in him to place him in Gryffindor. What had it seen in her to put her in the darkest house in the school? Did she have nothing more to her than cunning and ambition? Surely she possessed bravery, and intelligence, and loyalty. Didn’t she? Something catches her eye and she sees him climbing into the stands. Expecting to feel annoyance, she finds herself smiling as she flies over to meet him. Hovering at eye level, she says, “Don’t you eat?” He grins and pulls a basket from his cloak. “Only if you will join me.” She can smell the steaming chicken and fresh bread. The chocolate brownies. Her stomach growls in answer and he begins to unpack the food as she lands next to him. They remain quiet, eating in silence until she can’t hold it in any longer. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Dorian looks adorably confused. “Because I like you?” Manon blushes. She can’t help it. His expression turns serious then. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a very long time, but ... I didn’t want it to cause you any problems.” He doesn’t need to say what those problems are. She stares at him for a long moment, not sure of what to say. Until finally, she says, “I like you too.” And before she can talk herself out of it, because she wants to know if his lips are as soft as they look, because his smile sets her blood on fire, she kisses him.

- Dorian uses every excuse possible to ditch his friends each weekend they go to Hogsmeade. They suspect he has a new girlfriend but he’s managed to keep her a secret. Using an enchanted map he found in a book shelved in special collections, he sneaks back to the castle while they continue with their afternoon, thinking he’s merely a step or two ahead of them. Dorian hates that they have to keep it a secret, but he’d agreed with Manon when she’d requested it. He dreads seeing new bruises and that outweighed any annoyance he felt. As he sprints into the Room of Requirement, their meeting spot, he can’t wait to see her. Dorian stops dead in his tracks as he sees those bruises he’d feared. Manon tries to hide her face, but to no avail. “Hey,” Dorian says as he kneels down and gently pulls her hands away. Her gorgeous eyes are almost overflowing with tears. “Manon, what can I do?” She sniffs, “Nothing, I’m fine.” Her painfully swollen cheek says otherwise. Before he can think, his magic reacts, sending cold relief to her injuries. He lets her think it was deliberate, controlled. He says nothing about how her pain unleashes his magic, that it’s a manifestation of his hate and anger for the Matron. The potions professor who laughs at first years when they suffer burns or injuries in her class. The quidditch coach who beats her team captain at the slightest infraction. Too much, she reminds him of his father. The Minister of Magic who never fails to tell his son what an embarrassment he is. A man of power who hits with words almost as brutally as the Matron hits with fists. Pulling her close, he hugs her, until the shaking stops. “I hate this,” she chokes out between sobs. “I hate being punished for losing. I hate being watched. As if a Slytherin can only be one thing. I hate hiding here with you.” Dorian strokes her back. “I know.” He does know. The shame, the self hatred, the fear. Manon releases a long, slow breath, settling against him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

- Manon is rushing to her next class and almost misses the gossip exchanged between the two younger students. When it sinks in, she stops, almost running into a wall. “The matron got fired!” “What? Are you kidding? Don’t joke with me. I hate her.” “Everyone does. Or did. She can go rot now.” “What happened?” But the two disappear around a corner, leaving Manon shell shocked. Forgetting her class, she runs back to the Slytherin common room, ignoring everyone she passes in the tunnel. She finds Asterin in their room. Her best friend is grinning from ear to ear, a slightly dazed look on her face. “What the hell happened?” Manon asks. “A miracle!” Asterin calls, laughter overtaking her to the point she can barely speak. “A godsdamn miracle!” The Coven quickly join them, coming in one by one as they hear the news. Celebration is replaced by strategy as the teammates begin to discuss changes to their quidditch routines. They are a well oiled machine, so nothing much will be different. But at least they can use their own ideas for plays and techniques. Their door opens to reveal the Headmistress. Glennis Crochan eyes the young witches with a mildly disapproving look. The twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed however. She shoos everyone out except Manon. “I take it you’ve heard the news,” the Headmistress says. Manon forces a sober expression on her face. “Yes ma’am.” Professor Crochan sits on the edge of her bed and frowns. “I must apologize for not seeing the truth sooner, Ms. Blackbeak.” Manon feigns ignorance, but not for long. This wise, old witch is no one’s fool, despite mistaking the Matron’s evil tendencies for mere strictness. “She was an exceptional liar. I am so very sorry I believed anything she said,” the headmistress says. “I know,” Manon replies, not sure what else to say. Professor Crochan reaches out and squeezes Manon’s hand. It’s such a motherly gesture that Manon, who has no mother of her own, feels uncomfortable. Like she doesn’t know if she should squeeze back or continue to just sit there. Before she can decide, the headmistress smiles and stands. She offers her ear if Manon ever wants to talk. About anything. And then. before the crone leaves, she says, “By the way, I’ve demoted the Head Boy that the Matron assigned to Slytherin. He has learned too much at her feet. You will take his place. It’s time for some new blood to lead Slytherin.” Manon stands, her mouth agape, her heart racing. “You may say thank you if you’d like,” the headmistress says with a kind smile. “Uhh ... thank you. Ma’am. Headmistress,” Manon sputters, unsure if she is actually grateful. But when she’s left alone, when she thinks about all the things she’d change about Slytherin, she is overcome with hope and excitement. She runs out to find Dorian.

- Dorian is so far behind on his charms homework, not even Yrene’s help will get him through it. Despairing in a hidden corner of the library, he stares blankly at his textbook, not seeing or understanding a single work on the page. His mind is focused on one thing. Or, one person.  At the sound of heavy footfalls, he leans into the aisle to see Manon charging towards him. He’s hesitant, unable to tell if she’s happy or angry. It could go either way. A person might be glad that their abuser was just fired, or they might be upset that someone meddled at all. Just as she reaches him, he stands and holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “I sent an owl to the Education Minister. She is friends with my mother and I thought maybe it would help.” He cringes a little, waiting for her reaction. Manon says nothing, just throws herself against him in a hug that almost sends him toppling backwards. “You’re not upset with me?” he asks, laughing. “Never,” she says. “You used your connections to save me. To save all of us. She was terrible to more people than just me.” They return to their embrace, and he realizes there are others gathering around, watching them. He starts to pull away but she doesn’t let him. “I don’t care anymore,” she says, her breath hot and alive against his skin. “Let them watch. I’ll throw them in detention if they give us any trouble.” Dorian pulls back, an eyebrow raised. “I’m Head Girl of Slytherin now.” She says it just loud enough for the gawkers to hear and immediately disperse. He laughs and promises not to step out of line around her. She makes him take it back. Later, as they separate to head to their respective common rooms, Manon frowns. “I wish I could do this for you. Get your dad off your back somehow.” That she would offer means the world to him, giving him some much needed strength. “Maybe when you become famous you can tell him off for me.” Her nose wrinkles slightly. “And what will I do to become famous?” He kisses the wrinkles. “Replace brooms with dragons in quidditch.” Manon’s eyes lit up, widening first in disbelief and then as she is flooded with ideas. “First, let’s survive Hogwarts,” he says. “We still have to meet each other’s friends. Officially, I mean.” Her brightness fades a little, but she is still smiling as she heads down the stairs to Slytherin, and he climbs up to Gryffindor.

*****

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[thebellekeys]

My Hogwarts House book recs

Okay, ever since some of my favorite booktubers made posts like these many a year ago, I always wanted to make a book rec list like this because I still genuinely do like the Hogwarts Houses. Enjoy!

Gryffindor

Graceling by Kristen Cashore - she walked so these new fantasy girlies could run, fantasy kingdom with assassin main character, the original ya high fantasy killer girlboss imo

A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin - all of the sympathetic leads are classic heroes (dany, jon, arya), adventure and politics and battle and dragons, nuanced outlooks on honor

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah - ww2 novel, deals with the french resistance during the occupation, hit every spot in my cold black heart, emphasis on sisterhood and endurance

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - what is bravery if not a broke woman telling a rich man to get a grip, og strong female lead overcoming many challenges, criticisms of polite society

Hufflepuff

Crave by Tracy Wolff - big on found family, paranormal romance shenanigans in a boarding school, somewhat satire, unserious and just very wholesome, steeped in nostalgia uwu

All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir - unapologetically written to heal and explore trauma, cathartic, wholesome and pure relationships, emphasis on self-growth and overcoming abuse and pain

The Stationery Shop by Marjan Kamali - historical, about the value of relationships in war and hardship, themes of growth and acceptance and promises, beautiful story

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic - what happens when you let a bunch of mentally ill kids play a made up sport, angsty but feels like a big hug, contemporary fiction, just genius ok

Ravenclaw

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake - very slytherclaw, philosophy and physics as the basis, dark academia urban fantasy, character-driven, multiple POVs, morally grey academics

Babel by RF Kuang - this book has been likened to a history textbook, by a nerd girlie for the nerd girlies, linguistics and languages, super well-researched, condemns colonization

Disorientation by Elain Hsieh Chou - witty and sharp narration and dialogue, set in academia and deals with east asian literature, satire and black comedy, explores racial fetishization

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - only a ravenclaw could appreciation its complexity, so many literary references, stylistically immaculate, lots of room to debate its message and themes

Slytherin

Vicious by VE Schwab - perfect moral quandaries demonstrated here, everyone is morally dark grey, supervillains, very angsty and also profound at times, dark academia

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde - my man makes a deal with the devil for eternal youth and beauty, everyone here is morally dubious, murder and orgies and philosophy

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn - exhausted woman does what she needs to do, female rage book, does some interesting things with pov, justified evil, amy dunne is insane and it's great

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao - tired chinese woman does what she needs to do and kills men, very unhinged queen behavior, ambition and god complexes, pacific rim but in china

[lauralestrange7]

Ben Barnes with an Irish accent

(Killing Bono 2011)