#end the statute of secrecy

[basicmannersforbasicbrits]

What is your Hogwarts house??

they wouldn't let me attend. i'd burn that hell-hole to the ground SO FAST

[crescenthistory]

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Synopsis: Remus' childhood best friend is the only person he is comfortable showing unrestrained affection towards – until he one day gets in his own head about it.

Words: 14.4k

Warnings/tags: there are some suggestive remarks, brief references to "shagging" and implied underage drinking, but i would classify it as safe for minors! fem!reader, use of y/n, childhood best friends to lovers (thus you grew up in wales and use welsh terms, but you aren't said to be welsh), you are in ravenclaw (only for one plot point, not personality), platonic physical affection, romantic physical affection, kissing, "it was revealed to me in a dream" trope, some miscommunication trope, deep yearning, remus' pov (meaning loads of self-loathing and overthinking), panic attack-ish, remus cursing like a sailor and joking about jumping, kind of shy/reserved!remus, some angst, happy ending ofc, background jilypad

Note: phew this was intense but sosososo much fun to write. it is very much a fluffy fic tho, don't be worried<3 i fucking love this story/dynamic so much

a blurb about their happily ever after

It is an ill-kept secret that Remus John Lupin struggles with romantic public displays of affection.

It was something his best friends had teased him relentlessly for since the first time he was given a Valentine Day’s card in year two by a boy that he didn’t even have a crush on mind you, and became a stuttering, spluttering mess. He could still hear James and Sirius’ barks of laughter the second that Hufflepuff was out of view and could still feel the bench shake from when Peter fell off it, clutching his stomach. Remus had been sure his cheeks would be permanently dyed red from the shame.

His one friend who did not betray him in such a manner was his oldest, namely you. Remus’ sweetheart, as Sirius called you, his childhood best friend from back home who he broke the statute of secrecy for when he was too young to realise what that meant, but who thankfully turned out to be a witch too. Something you both wept tears of joy for, as you did not have to be separated when he went off to Hogwarts.

On that horrid day, you only pinched his darkening cheeks and laughed quietly – still teasing, but in a way that felt more like admiring and less like humiliating. He faintly remembers scrunching his nose at you in response, a look you immediately mirrored before you went to hide him in the crook of your neck and gave the others a faux scolding for “embarrassing poor Rem when he is wholly capable of doing so himself”. 

His makeshift pack of friends kept that routine up for the rest of his school years, consisting of James and Sirius poking constant fun, Peter enjoying it all a tad bit too much, and you “protecting” him while laughing all the same. His affliction only worsened throughout his time at Hogwarts, but if one of his afflictions were to be the butt of a joke, he supposed he was grateful it was this one.

In moments like these, it was a tad bit difficult to keep that sentiment up, though.

“You should have seen the look on his face, doll!” Sirius made out through a laugh as the group made their way back from Hogsmeade. 

He was recounting Remus’ dance on the Three Broomsticks dancefloor with one slightly-more-rowdy-than-normal Emmeline Vance who all but dragged him out there despite his quiet sputters. You had been off on some endless errands that Remus had passionately attempted to join you for before Sirius all but bolted him to the bench because “you owe me a round, you mangy wolf”.

“I believe I have seen it many a time, Siri,” you laughed out, yelping slightly when Remus pinched your side from where he had his arm around you. “Hey!” you scolded him half-heartedly, point diminished by your grin.

“Cheeky minx, don’t side with the devil!” Remus conspired with you through a stage-whisper while glaring at Sirius, whose laughter only doubled in intensity.

“You can’t ask me to lie for you, del,” you replied in the same tone of voice, leaning up to kiss his cheek as if to apologise for your treachery. An apology that was wholly accepted as Remus tugged you closer into his side and allowed for the laughter around him to continue with a sigh.

Because therein lies the one exception – Remus Lupin was pathetically incapable of public displays of affection, unless they were with you.

His problem with these displayals was the insinuation behind them and the attention that was brought to him because of it. If Emmeline dances with him, leaving a scandalously little amount of room between them, he knows what she wants from him and everyone else does, too. If his current romantic partner kisses him in the hallway, it is a glimpse into something that otherwise occurs behind closed doors, a reveal of his private life that he does not enjoy. He wants that part hidden, and embarrassment flares through him like a rocket at the thought that others bear witness to it – and then the flames are stoked when they notice that he knows and has enough dignity to be embarrassed, which just fuels an eternal evil cycle.

You, however – your wonderful self he has known all his life, you who refused to ever leave his side despite his lycanthropy and subsequent grumpy, isolationist persona, you who are his absolute better half and light of his life – there was no reason that affection should be hidden. There was nothing secretive nor fragile in your relationship, it was the purest thing he had ever had the pleasure of having.

There was nothing insinuative or blasphemous about it, there was nothing to be held against him. He would hold you, hug you, even kiss your shoulder, cheek and forehead, because he and all else around knew that it meant nothing more. It was nothing out of the norm, nothing for others to point out and bring attention to. There was no glance into something hidden away, there was no line being overstepped. It was just two best friends, aware and proud of how much they meant to one another.

So Remus never had any hesitations about leaning into your touch, about seeking yours out, about lips identifying exposed skin and staying there for a moment or two. It was something he began doing before he truly knew what embarrassment entailed, it was muscle memory as much as instinct these days.

And if others did not understand it fully, that was an issue Remus for once felt no confinement to public opinion on. If people made assumptions or threw glances, it held no importance to him. Even his Marauders, Sirius especially, raised their eyebrows at your proximity when you all first met, but they understood the routine of it all quickly. That these two first years before them were a package deal in every form of the word. It was quickly accepted within your little pack, albeit fondly commented on every now and again. James had Sirius in that same unrestrained way, bodies strewn across each other at any given opportunity, so why couldn’t Remus have you? Why wouldn’t he?

Never mind that Sirius was officially brought into James and Lily's relationship at the end of last term.

“Well, James would hug anything that moved and seemed like it might need it.” Sirius had argued one night many years ago, not needing to add the and I need it.

“And isn’t that lovely for Prongs,” Remus had drawled in return. “But I need a few years to get there, and Y/N happened to be more strategic than you lot.”

“By knowing you first?”

“Precisely. Also, she’s lovelier than you.” 

It had earned him a snort and a pillow to the face, but it was accepted without further questioning. With the exceptions only occurring in a drunken babble here and there from Sirius, alone in their dorm after a party. Remus is quite certain he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence if his life depended on it in those states, and so he never took it to heart.

Remus revelled in having something of his own, someone only he understood on that level, and his heart always warmed when he thought about how lucky he was that that someone was you.

He subconsciously pulled you even closer at that thought, content and comfortable to do so whether that be around his marauders or in front of the whole Great Hall; there was nothing more to it to be embarrassed of. It was just you; just Y/N and Remus. Like always.

“You occluding yourself away from your menace of a dorm mate?” you whispered to him then, and he angled his chin down slightly with a smile to find you looking at him curiously.

“Oh, yeah,” Remus agreed with a solemn nod. “Must prepare for being locked up in a room with him all night. It’s tedious work, you know?”

“Most certainly.” You attempted to match his faux severity, but a giggle escaped you nonetheless – a beautiful one that Remus decided to mentally save for the night, should Sirius become unbearable.

Speaking of; “I take great offence to that,” Sirius proclaimed from the few strides ahead he was, pointing his finger in Remus’ direction without turning around. “Dog-like hearing, Moony, don’t think you can get away with badmouthing me here!”

“Dog-like he says,” Remus whispered to you, earning him an indignant “oi!” as Sirius finally turned around.

“Gorgeous, would you tell your worse half to knock it off?”

“I sure will,” you declared, turning your body more towards Sirius in Remus’ grasp. “Siri, sweetheart, would you knock it off?”

Within the second, Sirius’ offended expression transformed into one of giddiness. “Awe, princess, you think of me as your other half?”

“Worse half, Pads,” James interjected, looking over his shoulder bemusedly.

“Do keep up,” Remus added with a half-hearted glare.

“Irrelevant!” Sirius threw his hands up and spun around in celebration. “I have won the title of her other half, you can get lost Moons.”

Remus used his arm around your shoulders to angle you back away from Sirius. “I think not. I’ve been keeping this friendship for so long, she’ll need a lawyer to get rid of me,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking down at you at the last bit. “Capiche?” He tilted his head at you.

You hummed through a poorly-withheld smile, as if you were considering it. “Sure thing, cariad. Meet with our lawyers tomorrow after lunch?”

Remus gasped as you ripped out of his grasp and stuck your tongue out at him. Flashbacks of your younger days chasing each other down dirt roads came to his mind and widened his grin as he saw you back away from him, eyes trained on his expression. 

“Minx,” he breathed out through a laugh just before you sat off running away from him; Remus hot on your heels, laughter escaping him freely. Sirius began running with you, though he was slowed as he twirled around and hollered, surely waking the entirety of the mountaintops surrounding the castle.

James had been minding his own business for once as he engaged in quiet conversation with Lily and Pandora, but his eyes twinkled as he eyed his three running friends, exchanging a knowing look with the redhead.

“Young love,” Pandora sighed dreamily, though James could never be certain if she was looking at the loud, carefree forms before them or at something entirely different.

Remus saw you stopped running while still some dozens of metres away from the castle, still facing away from him, but arms opening to accommodate for the impending crash of his body against yours. It does something funny to his heart to think about, but he just lets it widen his smile as he did exactly as expected – let his arms loop around your waist and twirl you around as he caught up to you. 

Your out-of-breath giggles permeated into his ears as his face was tucked in between your neck and shoulder as he slowed down, laughter calming in his own chest.

“Caught you,” he whispered through his own breathlessness. “Happy now?”

You turned in his grasp, squeezing at his shoulders both to show affection and seemingly to steady yourself as your chest still heaved; Remus held you tighter to help you in the latter endeavour. “Shook off Sirius for a bit, so yeah, I am. As should you be.”

He dropped his head laughing at that, glancing behind him through his hair to see Sirius bent over, hands on his knees as James had already caught up to him and was patting his back in sympathy. Any other time of the month, Remus would likely have been right there with him, but this was a good week and you always seemed to be able to find some semblance of energy within him, even if he thought he had none.

“I take back my calling you minx, then.” He looked at you with a smile. “That was strategic.”

“Are you saying minxes can’t be strategic, Loopy?” You raised your eyebrows at him teasingly, pulling slightly out of his grasp to breathe better.

“I’m saying– don’t call me Loopy.”

Your smile became almost taunting at that, and Remus knew his comment likely only worsened the likelihood of you using that nickname now. “I just remembered how I used to call you that the other day actually,” you mused, putting on an innocent smile. “I don’t remember why I stopped, I just forgot about it. I think it might be time for a renaissance.” 

“I think I’m too out of breath for you to say things like that. I can’t chase you any further, but that deserves to be chased.”

You shoved lightly at his shoulder at that. “You’re getting too old, you’re no fun.”

“I’m super fun. Textbook definition,” Remus harrumphed, gleaning when you rolled your eyes through a burst of laughter.

“No one who references textbook definitions is fun, Moons!” James called from where the group was catching up to you two, finally within earshot. 

Sirius was practically draped across James’ shoulder, breath still coming heavy. He pointed yet another accusatory finger, this time at you. “You’ll be the death of me, dollface. Merlin’s tits.”

“Don’t blame me for your own inadequacy, gorgeous,” you quipped back. It made Remus rather proud, especially when Sirius groaned dramatically in response.

“Time to get some beauty sleep then, yeah?” James coaxed, giving Sirius’ cheek a peck as he continued effortlessly dragging him in through the entrance of the castle.

Lily hummed in agreement, poking one of her boyfriends in the side. “Yeah, Sirius seems to need it.”

“You think I’m so sexy, Red, don’t lie to yourself,” Sirius mumbled, petulantly remaining worn out over James’ shoulders.

Remus smiled at his friends, hand reaching out behind him blindly, knowing you’d find it. Surely enough, your fingers intertwined with his own and gave him a little tug to hasten his gait down the hallways.

Moving up the staircases with surprisingly little trouble, the group finally found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, ready to split up with you and Pandora heading to Ravenclaw and the rest clambering inside. 

You made your goodbyes, quick hugs and kisses on cheeks with Lily and James and a kiss to the hand from Sirius who had decided to lay down dramatically on the floor. When you turned to Remus at last, just a tad bit away from the others, he enveloped you in a warm hug, breathing you in as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

“Let me walk you?” he asked, already knowing you would say no.

“Nice try Loopy, but I’d rather you go inside to the warmth and head to bed,” you murmured into his neck. “Thank you, though.”

You always said no. He always asked, anyway. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly protective or otherwise missed you too much, he’d go with you anyway. Today he decided to respect your wishes.

“Tell me again why you had to be an independent person and get sorted into your own house?” he grumbled against you, smiling when he felt your chest rumbling beneath him. That same smile softened when your grip on him grew just the slightest bit tighter.

“Something tells me you’ll survive.” 

He tightened his hold on you in turn, one arm around your waist and the other stabilising your neck, before he spun your body around twice, twirling along the hallway. He relished in the laughter that escaped you and ensured to stamp a proper kiss to your hair before he released you back down to the floor.

“Sleep well, dove.”

“Goodnight, cariad,” you said through a soft smile, giving him and the others a small wave before turning around to where Pandora was waiting, grabbing her hand as you two all but skipped down the hallway together.

With his eyes still glued on your disappearing form, Remus nearly yelped as James’ hands came up to settle roughly on his shoulders – albeit somewhat careful of his joints – steering him through the now-opened portrait, who was rambling on with complaints about students taking up the space in front of her for too long.

“Funny that,” James started. 

Remus gave him a puzzled look. “What, Prongs?”

“Just that you danced with one Ravenclaw at the Three Broomsticks for two minutes and gained the colour and conversational skills of a tomato; but when you twirl and kiss this Ravenclaw, all you’re left with is that goofy grin of yours.” James’ comment seemed off-handed, said over his shoulder as they walked through the empty common room.

“First of all, it’s Y/N we’re talking about and not some Ravenclaw,” he started, confusion laced in his voice. In the meantime, James and Sirius kissed Lily goodbye, the latter giving her bum a light tap as she moved up the stairs to the girls’ dorms. “Secondly, it’s Y/N. She’s my best friend, and one of yours, mind you. What’s there to go all tomato for?”

“Some would argue, there is never any reason to go all tomato,” Sirius taunted, ducking the smack Remus aimed towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” James laughed, literally waving it off. “Just pointing out the parallel. Ironic, innit?”

“Don’t see why it would be,” Remus grumbled petulantly in return. Sirius reached up to ruffle his hair somewhat roughly before entering their dorm, where Peter was already waiting for them, tucked into bed.

“What’re we laughing about tonight, fellas?” he questioned without looking up from the magazine he was reading through. Remus was fairly certain he had seen Mary reading through that very same magazine last week.

“Oh just at Remus’ peculiarities with birds.” Sirius felt emboldened with his comment from where he was crouched behind his bed – ample distance to protect him from Remus, he surely gathered.

“So, nothing new? Nice.” Peter returned his attention to the magazine it never really left.

“Yeah, don’t worry Pete – your friends are just as big arseholes as on any other day.” Remus bent down to pat the boy on the shoulder before moving over to his own bed, between Peter and Sirius’. 

“Hey, I don’t mean to be an arsehole,” James complained with almost a full pout across his lips within a second of Remus’ comment. “We’re just having a bit of fun psychoanalysing you, s’all.”

“Which, of course, is a generally accepted polite thing to do.” Remus nodded as if he was gravely understanding, only flipping James off when the other boy didn’t catch his sarcasm.

“No, Remmy, what would be rude is to point out how you are desperately–” Sirius began with taunting mirth plastered all over his face, but he was cut off as James all but jumped on him to cover his mouth. 

The black haired boy looked up at his boyfriend first with some offence and then a look Remus didn’t want to witness.

“How about we leave poor Moony alone for the night, huh baby?” James questioned, moving his hand away from Sirius’ mouth as the other boy nodded almost dumbly, still staring up at him.

“Who’s turning red now?” Remus whispered to himself as he looked through his trunk for his pyjamas. He barely had the reflexes to catch the pillow Sirius hurled at him, tossing it back with a loud laugh that was quickly reciprocated by his best mates.

As if a miracle had been awarded them by some forgiving gods, the boys’ dorm room quieted down fairly quickly after that. Sirius and James settled in Sirius’ bed for the night, barely fitting themselves onto the mattress that was almost too small for one boy, let alone two. Once in each other’s arms, however, it was an easy thing to drift off. Peter was asleep before the other three had even brushed their teeth.

Remus was the only one tossing. Not unusual, but he couldn’t really understand why that was tonight. 

His sleep cycle often closely followed the moon’s, and he was almost two weeks away from the full moon, a perfectly decent time for falling and staying asleep. Tonight, though, his body was once more fighting him. He kept replaying the night, the conversations, the interactions, trying to pin his unrest on something. He supposed that dance with Vance had been unexpected and the adrenaline spike of all the attention following it might still linger and make sleep evade him. 

Despite what his dismay for public romantic displays might indicate, Remus was no prude. As a matter of fact, just as Sirius had before he was locked down, Remus was no stranger to making his rounds at the occasional common room party. Rarer was it that he shagged anyone back home, as he spent most of his time with you, but it had happened here and there too. Vance and him had even spent a night together once at a quidditch afterparty, but he had no significant interest in her apart from a mutually understood night of fun. He never really did, even when his partners were great in all capacities. It just didn’t seem that romance was an object for Remus – and good riddance, if the struggles of dealing with it so far was any sign.

Perhaps that was it then, dancing with Vance had rehashed something for him. Though the idea didn’t settle well in his bones, Remus also knew that he would never settle if he didn’t give his mind an excuse for his sudden restlessness.

After checking the time with a hefty sigh, he decided to throw in the towel and took a small sip of a sleeping draught potion he had at the ready in his bedside table at all times. If sleep would not come to him, he would hunt it down damn it. His friends’ playful mockery and a dance he didn’t even want to partake in would not cause him any more torment.

As Remus slipped into the land of dreams, he may come to regret that sentiment, if but a bit.

There are warm bodies pressed uncomfortably close to him – the warmest of which has her arms around his neck, one hand scraping through his hair. It should feel good, Remus enjoys when his hair is played with, but this feels sharp enough to draw blood. Emmeline’s laugh is all he can make out over the chatter and stomping around him, but it feels wrong, scratchy like a record player. Her fingers on him are cold, unlike anything else in the room.

It is spinning. The room, that is. Remus is unfocused, as if he had been shooting vodka and not butterbeer earlier. He can’t quite make out any of his friends, or anyone really, Emmeline’s features bleeding out into the background.

For some reason his heart is pounding the way it does before his transformation. Everything feels painfully wrong and he is aware of every inch of his body where Emmeline is touching him.

She is still laughing and Remus is sure it would make his ears bleed, which only confuses him further because Emmeline is truly a nice girl. Just not one he wants to feel flush against himself at the moment.

He reaches a hand up to touch his ear – realising only now that his arms are hanging limply by his sides, the only static thing in the otherwise spinning room – and when he retracts his hand to look at it, his fingers are coated with blood.

His breathing grows ragged as he feels the blood running down the side of his neck. He has half a mind to tell Emmeline, to shout for help. He doesn’t. Nothing comes out when he tries to open his mouth, all control of his body ripped from his grasp.

With no warning he realises the wetness on his neck is not blood, but someone’s open mouth smearing kisses down it with reckless abandon. His stomach ties in knots and he wants to push Emmeline off of him, still to no avail.

Her grip on him tightens painfully, and Remus swears he feels a bone break. He would know.

The flurry behind her has just become a swirl of colours and sounds to him and Remus feels himself drowning in a moment he desperately wants away from. He shuts his eyes hard, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

He feels a warmth in his chest, starkly different from the heat around him, that slowly, like thawing ice, begins to spread throughout him. He hums the melody you sang to him during his first ever panic attack, the sweet one that always lulls him to sleep, and the warmth spreads faster.

With his eyes still screwed shut, Remus begins to regain the feeling in his legs first, noticing them swaying back and forth to some calmer, unknown rhythm.

The feeling in his hand returns too, and it’s clasped around someone else's. Theirs is also warm, light and fits much better in his, though he’s not quite sure what he’s comparing it to.

The front of his body is warmer than the back as he’s pressed up against someone, swaying with them in a slow dance that would never have worked in the middle of Three Broomsticks. It flows with his soul.

At last, Remus can hear again, as if coming up from water. He hears that it was not him humming, but rather a soft figure tucked under his chin, humming the vibrations of the melody against the side of his neck.

When he tightens his arms instinctively, he does not need to open his eyes to know it is you.

He does anyway, looking down at you, standing in his arms, swaying together in an empty Gryffindor common room. There is a lazy smile on your lips as you look up at him, cheek against his chest, eyes twinkling like the starlight.

Remus feels right. Remus feels good. His thoughts are honey, sweet but slow, coating over any coherent reactions he might have to standing here with you like this. He escaped and he is with you and all is right once more.

Have you danced like this before? Did it feel like this then?

You seem unpuzzled, relaxed. The warmth settles in Remus for good.

“Hey handsome,” you whispered, as if you were sharing a secret with him before angling your face more up towards his.

Remus is not in charge of his body when his neck dips down and lets his lips meet yours halfway, casual and expectantly, a habit as much as a wish. You taste like yourself. You smell like yourself. Remus is surrounded by you, cornered by your smile against his lips.

You pull back all too quickly, furrowing your brows at him. Dream-Remus has no hesitation of removing the hand from around your back to thumb at the furrow, brushing away any negative thoughts from you. He kisses the spot between your eyebrows.

Everything is right.

When his eyes meet yours again, the concerned look in them has not changed. You reach a tentative hand up to his cheek, thumb swiping over his cheekbone as you hold him with what he irrevocably knows to be love. 

“It’s time to wake up, cariad,” you said with a small sad smile.

The last thing Remus remembers is the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath him.

Remus sat up with a gasp, and for a rare moment in time he was speechless.

He was not a stranger to invasive, questionable or downright spiritual dreams, a side effect of both his connection with the moon and the tons of potions he has taken over the years. Usually, he is present in his dreams and acts as his own little commentator during and after them, narrating what happens and what he thinks of it.

It was not uncommon for him to think “I think I will remember this one” as the final thought in a dream. Or when he wakes up in tears, his first thought was often “that was a bit dramatic of you, calm down”.

Now, he had nothing. Now, he was speechless.

Worse yet, usually when he wakes up with a jolt, it is in the middle of the night – but now, as his senses began to trickle back in, he could hear the commotion around him that only could mean the boys are at various stages in the process of getting ready.

Remus Lupin had just had a life-altering, earth-shattering dream, and James Fleamont Potter was repeatedly knocking his knee into his nightstand as he jumped around while tying his shoes on, instead of sitting down to do it like a normal person would.

He thought James was saying something, and maybe even to Remus specifically, but he could still hear the blood rushing through his head. Beneath that again, he could hear your humming. 

With a groan, Remus let himself topple over from his sitting position to land face-first into his duvet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck?

“Oi!” Remus finally heard, as what felt like a rolled up pair of socks hit his head. “What in Godrick’s name has gotten into you, mate? You good?” It was Sirius voice calling, seemingly from across the room.

Remus just groaned in reply. His eyes were wide open as he stared directly into his sheets, feeling both freezing cold and like his brain was slowed by a fever.

“You okay, Moons?” Peter’s voice came gentler from beside him. Remus thought his hand might be hovering near him, as if he was considering consolingly patting him but was unsure if he should.

Another groan.

“Okay, what about this: groan once if this is Moony mooning over something and twice if you’re in actual crisis,” James suggested, not unkindly.

A singular groan, though it sure did feel like two.

“Groan once if you’re a prick and twice if you’re insufferable,” Sirius felt the need to comment.

Instead of making any further sounds, Remus wrangled his arm from beneath the blanket to show Sirius how he felt about him in the moment with a gesture.

“Fantastic!” James exclaimed. “You have class in 35 minutes, Moons, and breakfast now, so best get a move on.” Remus heard the telltale sound of James leaving – as in, James’ heavy footsteps moving across the floor and Sirius scrambling like a dog to follow after him. At the complete lack of sounds in the rooms after that, he assumed Peter moused after them as well.

At last Remus sat up with a sigh and stared emptily in front of him, mind moving too fast for him to catch a thought but too slow for him to properly process anything.

What does this mean? 

Except Remus could no longer deny that he knew what it meant. That the instant your humming caressed his ears, he knew what it meant. That his subconsciousness wanted to replace a girl who saw him as a romantic prospect in a place Remus felt queasy in with you in a place he considered home. That is no coincidence.

And that when you kissed him–

Except you did not kiss him. Remus shook his head at that, as if the thoughts could just tumble out of his ears. You did not kiss him and he did not kiss you. Because this was a dream, it was not real and Remus must just be really, really unwell.

He felt unwell, but not in the way he was trying to convince himself.

Taking one deep breath, Remus looked to the awning of their little dormitory and shot out a silent prayer for any higher power to listen.

Put me back together, I cannot fall apart like this.

Bury this back down deep, I cannot feel like this.

It was going to be a long day.

─── ⋆⋅ ��⋅⋆ ───

By the time Remus had made it to the entryway to the Great Hall, feeling frazzled and less put together than he had an excuse to, he saw his group of friends making their way out.

“Rem!” It was you who caught sight of him first, and immediately beelined towards him, the others following closely behind, wearing varying degrees of concern and confusion as they looked him up and down.

Your face was by far the most concerned, as you immediately brought your left hand up to cup his cheek. “Are you alright, cariad?”

For the first time in your almost two decades of friendship, Remus was painfully aware of your physical proximity.

He always knew, of course, but it never really registered with him – it was completely natural. Right now, nothing about him felt natural. You stood flush with him and he felt you against him like a fire, skin singeing beneath his clothes. Your eyes seemed so big looking into his that he could get lost in them, his only internal monologue being a dreamy sigh and a long string of curse words at the absolute madhouse chaos that his mind was becoming. As he looked at you, it was like he could see his version of you from his dream as well, how you looked at him with so much love and admiration, how your lips inched closer to his.

“Mate?” Remus realised then, that he had been staring at you for far too long, not answering your question, to the point where James had to try to catch his attention.

“I– uh,” Remus sputtered, eyes flickering wildly all over your face, panic rising in his chest as he realised he could not think clearly with you so close.

He took a step back without thinking, just barely out of your grasp but still close, and shook his head. “Sorry, yeah, no, yes, I just feel a bit… off today.”

The furrow between your brows deepend, and once more his mind flashed back to his dream. His hand twitched. It seemed like you weren’t even aware of it when you took a step closer, to be back by his side, reaching your wrist up to place it on his forehead to feel his temperature. “You’re feeling poorly?” you whispered so quietly and so lovingly Remus thought he might faint.

Was it always like this? It was always like this. Why was he freaking out about it then? He was freaking out. What the fuck was wrong with him?

With horror, Remus realised that a slight blush was creeping up his neck, and he fought hell to keep it down as he cleared his throat. “Just a little, uh, dove, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Do you want to go lay down?” You began what he knew would be a string of suggestions for things to do to make him feel better, and he could not stand watching you be so concerned when he was lying to you.

Almost like a flinch, he pulled back out of your arms – properly this time, taking several strides backwards away from the group. It barely registered with him that James and Sirius were looking at him with some confused amusement while Lily looked sympathetic.

“I, erm, will be fine, yeah? Nothing to worry about.” Without properly looking, he reached an arm out to grab Peter by the shoulder and all but manhandled him to his side. “Peter and I have Herbology now, but uh, I’ll catch you later?”

Remus hated how everything he said sounded like a question, like he was running a lie by you for you to confirm if it was believable. Remus hated that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your face for more than a few seconds and most of all he hated that he was spiraling under the weight of your gaze in turn. A horrible combination.

“Take care, Rem,” you whispered as he all but ran away from you, hauling Peter along.

You stood looking after him for a moment, only turning your head when you felt Lily’s reassuring hand on your shoulder to find a small smile on her face.

“What in the buggering hell was that?” Sirius questioned, looking mostly at you for an answer.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly. Had you known, you might still not have told him, though, if you thought Remus wouldn’t want you to. “I usually always know about his moods before they come, but this has me stumped,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

“He woke up weirdly,” James mused, rubbing his hand across his chin. “I guess we’ll just see where the day goes, yeah?”

The four of you nodded at each other, but you still gnawed on your lip in concern, glancing over your shoulder to where he disappeared. 

Whatever it was, you hoped he would come talk with you about it when he was ready.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus only had one hour to compose himself during Herbology before he had Charms with you. Sharing most of his classes with you was something he had always considered a blessing, and while that sentiment would likely never fade, it was also causing him some distress as he almost toppled the work desk with his jittering.

Peter didn’t question him, but Remus’ obvious nerves were apparently contagious for the anxious boy who jittered right along with him, casting him the occasional glance.

Letting his elbows fall heavily on the desk, Remus put his head in his hands and ignored the instructions Professor Sprout was walking them through – he would let Peter pick up the slack for once and then subsequently accept the lower marks. Right now, Remus had to think and get his shit together.

He breathed his way through some panic exercises and pictured you in his mind. It almost brought a smile to his lips in an instant and for the first time, he let the realisation of how irrevocably wrecked for you he was.

Has it always been like this? Why have I never put this into words before? How can I revert back?

In that moment, Remus decided two things. Firstly, there was no possibility of you returning his feelings nor would he ever expect you to. It was true that you accepted and loved him in a way he never could quite believe himself deserving of, but that in itself is testament that it couldn’t be any more. What you gave him was already too much, it would be unthinkable for you to harbour even deeper feelings for him.

Second, and most importantly, he could not lose you. Remus has made many mistakes in his time, but he could not live with himself if he lost you. It would be too much. Because regardless of the fact that he now knew he was– that he now knew what he knew, the friendship between you was the most important thing. It was Remus and Y/N, right?

He could not be weird and sputtering, he could not make you uncomfortable. Meaning, he could not withdraw from you despite his instinct to run and hide. Shame burned within him at the thought that even if he could withdraw he didn’t know if he could fight his want not to. You were muscle memory.

Remus opened his eyes and slowly dragged his palms down his face in resolution. He would have to act as if nothing was wrong, and he would have to lie through his bloody teeth to explain away whatever bodily reactions he has.

If he starts stammering, he will have to shut up and lie that he is tired. If he becomes an embarrassing shade of auburn, he will have to cough and lie that he might be coming down with a fever. If he shakes, it is because of lack of sleep. If he, Merlin forbids, cries, he will have to claim he must be coming down with some odd moonsickness. You will surely follow him to Madam Pomfrey and maybe it will be easier when you’re alone.

Or maybe it will be worse.

No matter which it was, Remus would have to soldier it, for your sake. You did not deserve his imposing infatuation, but you also did not deserve to lose what you thought to be a loyal friend.

When him and Peter packed up the barely-used desk and mumbled a goodbye to a disapproving Sprout in the door, Remus made it his mission to focus on his breathing again as he almost ran down the hallways to where your friend group always met up outside the Charms classroom.

Be normal, be normal, be normal.

Your eyes found him the second he rounded the final corner, almost as if you had been watching it, waiting for him. A beautiful smile lit up on your face as soon as you saw him, albeit a bit dampened by the worry in your eyes – he simultaneously wanted desperately to soothe you while also berating himself for it being there. His fault.

“Hey dovey.” He forced his words to be casual, his smile to be measured as he strode up beside you. 

This is where he is supposed to drag you into a sideways hug, squeezing your hips while dropping a kiss on the top of your head, causing Sirius to make some quip about “you were literally just gone an hour. He stood beside you perhaps a beat too long before he began to do so with shaking hands, and he felt your burning look as you studied him. Remus made it all the way up to where he would kiss your head before he chickened out due to the tornado screaming in his stomach.

“Hi, Rem,” you all but whispered, your words just for him. You opened your mouth to say more, but he was afraid of what it would be.

“Waited long?” he asked to distract you from it.

“Nah,” you said and leaned further into his side. “But I’m glad you’re here now. How’re you feeling?”

At that, he saw Peter, Sirius, James and Lily – who had been stuck in their own little world – look up and try to hear what he has to say. Remus crumbled under their watchful gazes, knowing they knew him well enough to pick apart his every little reaction. He cleared his throat.

“I don’t really know,” he settled for. “My head’s murky, didn’t sleep well.”

You made a soft cooing sound and started rubbing circles on the side of his hip from where your arms were circled around him. It knocked a wave of dizziness into him that made him want to take a step back to lean against the cold stone wall behind you. In replacement he settled for holding onto you tighter; it only made it worse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go lay down? Merlin knows we won’t be missing out on anything with the way Flitwick rambles away any sense he might have.”

This is where Remus would laugh heartily at your obvious disdain for the professor that he never truly understood. Instead, his mind zeroed in on one word you said.

We. We, we, we, we.

Circe’s tits, did he want to take you up on that.

He swallowed, acutely aware that you must have heard the sound when stood so close to him, though you didn’t give away any reaction. To buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts, Remus finally dared tilt his chin downwards to kiss the top of your head. It might have been too slow, too tentative, but his heart was beating so fast the rest of his body felt too slowed down in comparison. He hoped you thought the kiss was a thank you for caring and not the nervous stall it was. He hoped he wouldn’t be eternally damned for breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m quite alright, dove,” he murmured instead, furiously avoiding the surely questioning gazes of his other friends. “Thank you, though.”

You grumbled some but didn’t push him on it. He silently thanked you for that, too.

His throat was too parched to partake in the silent banter amongst his friends as you walked into Charms, too focused on where your bodies brushed as you walked, too deafened by the sound of your laughter.

You sat down in your regular spots, you and Remus side by side in the front, with Sirius and James behind you and Lily and Mary to your right. This was normal, this was alright. Flitwick droned on about the theoretics and debates around the charms you learned last lesson, it went in one ear and out the other.

Absentmindedly, you had grabbed Remus’ hand lightly between yours and were tracing soothing circles along his wrist and palm. You meant so well, and this would have cured likely any other ailment Remus struggled with, but right now there were fireworks going off in his head.

Taking advantage of the notice Dumbledore had given all of his professors to not call Remus out on sleeping in class, he folded his arms and laid his head down on them, carefully not to take his hand away from you. If he could shield his face, he could probably talk himself down before class ended.

In the solitude of his arms, he could picture it was just the two of you, sitting in the treehouse you built between your houses as children. If he focused enough, he could smell the apples that grew around him and feel the rough wood beneath his stomach. There, your hand would still be in his, maybe even your cheek on his chest, and it would be alright. It would all be alright because it was just you, and Remus could play dumb and he would never have to realise his feelings and fuck himself over.

It almost worked. Until he was interrupted.

“Psst! L/N?” The whisper was laced with a laughter Remus knew too well and did not care for.

You clearly ignored it – Remus could practically see the eye roll you surely threw his way – but that wasn’t enough to stop his theatrics.

“L/N!” Barty called once more from a couple seats behind you to your right, voice threatening to alert Flitwick to your inattention. “What’s wrong with your dog?”

“What?” you whispered back in equal parts confusion and irritation.

“Your puppy, Lupin,” Barty said, as if it was obvious. Unfortunately, Remus could picture his eye roll too, though his stomach was turning for a wholly different reason. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Remus is quite alright, Junior,” you hissed back, hand tightening on Remus’ at the same time as he loosened it. “And don’t call him a dog.”

Remus slowly lifted his head from his arms and took back his hands to wipe harshly at his face, still not looking towards Junior who barked a low laugh.

“Follows you around like one. Wouldn’t surprise me if you had some invisible leash going on–” Barty quipped, cutting himself off before you could respond and turning to Evan Rosier sitting beside him. “Oooooh, an invisible leash is a marvellous idea, Rosie.”

It was clear you had lost his attention, but Remus’ face still burned painfully as he shifted in his seat. With a harrumphing sound, you turned to look at him. He didn’t meet your eye, couldn’t.

“Ignore him.” Remus always marvelled at how you manage to convey your frustration and care at the same time.

He just hummed in the affirmative, still wiping a bit harshly at his face. If he treated it harshly enough, could he blame his violent flush on it?

“Cariad,” you mumbled, gently taking his hands away from his face, clearly spotting his efforts.

He saw your furrowed eyebrows looking at him, and that was the end of what he could take for the lesson. As you opened your mouth, surely to inquire about how he is, like the beautifully kind person he knows you to be, he pushed his chair backwards.

“I think I should probably listen to you and go lay down, dove,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. Before you could shoot in and say you would come with him, he continued. “Can you please take notes for me in Transfiguration after this?” 

An indirect rejection, a plea for isolation. He didn’t look at your face as he gathered his things, waiting for you to respond instead.

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” you said carefully.

What I want is you.

“Yes, please.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed a parting goodbye kiss to your cheek, tradition. “Thank you, love.”

Then he was sneaking his way out around the desks, barely catching a murmured voice he knew to be Sirius’, likely leaning forward to ask you about him. His lips singed.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus hid away in his room for two hours, actually being truthful and trying to get a nap in. The dorm room felt serendipitous, being swept up in rare silence and a grace of darkness as he trickled in and out of consciousness. If he dreamed more of you, he would not admit it.

Any semblance of reprieve he might have chased down was ripped away from him by the creaking of the door and the wall of sound that followed his three favourite boys who always got on his last three nerves.

“Oi, Moons!” Sirius exclaimed, far too cheerily. “You know the rules!”

Remus propped his head up on his elbow from where he was sprawled on his stomach, looking blearily at the three figures as they situated themselves within the dorm. “The rule to not wake a sleeping sod? Yes, I’m the only one who knows that rule it seems.”

Sirius took off his sweater as he discarded his uniform and used it to swat at Remus. “Nope! No wallowing on your own. Sharing is caring.”

“‘M not wallowing,” Remus grumbled as he let his head fall back into his pillow.

Letting his guard down was undoubtedly a mistake because the second Sirius was out of sight, he had the audacity to jump into Remus’ bed, nearly flinging him off from the impact. Both Sirius and James were laughing boisterously as Sirius collapsed on top of Remus and ruffled his hair when he tried to shove him off. “Not anymore, no, we won’t let you.” 

Remus hated that he loved them.

“Precisely,” James added as he pointed at Remus from where he was changing into his non-uniform clothes as well. “So either speak your mind or perk up, buttercup.”

Remus groaned but let Sirius drag him up into a sitting position. “Can a poor lycanthrope not have one off day without you lot getting your knickers in a twist?” Despite his best efforts, there was no ire in his voice.

“Nope!” James said, popping the p. “Not on our watch.”

“Life is simply miserable without our Moony,” Sirius said, clutching his chest as if he was ailing. “And do you have any idea how weird it is to see your sweetheart without you by her side? It’s like watching a cut up picture.”

All humour that had been creeping into Remus’ expression was washed away in and instant as he swallowed harshly, suddenly averting his gaze from Sirius. Instead, James caught it, who looked at him with big eyes behind his glasses, cocking his head to the side. He looked far too much like the stag he is, before his mouth opened in a small gasp. “Oh,” he whispered softly.

Remus’ heart was beating painfully hard at the look of realisation that crossed his face, turning back to Sirius who had a similar knowing, almost pitying look in his eyes. No, no, no, no.

“I’ll be fine, you, erm, won’t have to live without me much longer,” Remus tried to volley back, just a few seconds too late, tongue feeling heavy at being found out.

If his best mates could see through him that quickly, then you probably already had. He had half a mind to take you up to the Astronomy Tower like old times, so he could apologise and then jump off as an act of redemption.

Sirius gave his shoulder a rough squeeze, shaking him a little as if he knew what was going through his mind. “Fantastic. Then you’ll join us for our free periods, yeah? And the party later tonight?”

Still somewhat sputtering, Remus’ eyes widened to an extent he was sure was comedic. “The pa– the party?”

James smiled at him. “Yeah, Moons. Gryffindor half-term party? That we have talked about all week?”

“Merlin, maybe Pomfrey needs to go easy on the potions she gives you,” Sirius teased, getting up to finish changing.

“Or she could give me more,” Remus whispered hopefully, earning him a round of chuckles. 

“You’ll be fine, Rem,” James said, with an undertone Remus did not care for. “If you’re still feeling… off throughout the day and night, you can always snuggle up with a book and ignore us hooligans.” Then, almost as if he was testing the waters. “I’m sure Y/N would love to join you.”

Remus didn’t deign any of that with a response, but he suddenly thought he should get out of his bed so his face didn’t seem so red in contrast with the white sheets.

“I have some essays to knock out, so yeah, I’ll join you to study,” Remus relented. He opened his own trunk to get changed, but decided to half-ass it and just take off his tie and replace his uniform wool with one of his own patterned jumpers.

“And for the party later!” Sirius corrected, ensuring Remus didn’t think he could back out.

“Sure, sure.” He ruffled his own hair so it was Remus-messy and not Sirius-messed-up-my-hair-messy. “Let’s just go.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Considering the extent to which he could fuck this up for himself, Remus reckoned he had been doing fairly good keeping his shit together throughout the day.

If he mentally cursed more than normal, contemplated the murder of each one of his friends including himself and generally couldn’t breathe, well, that was merely part of it.

The whole lot had shacked up in the library for the triple free periods you had back to back on Fridays. While you doted concernedly over him for the first thirty minutes, you eased up once you seemed to decide that this wasn’t Remus shoving down some lycanthropy-struggles and avoiding support and help. 

As always, the two of you sat in the love seat, your legs sprawled over his lap as you read through your textbooks in the oddest positions. This was usually something he might chide you for – “your neck will hurt if you hang over the edge like that, love” – but today he buried his face into his textbooks with all his might to not seem like he was aware of your body. He was, of course, you burned over his skin and lit up his heart, and Circe’s tits was he the stupidest sod in the whole castle.

Nonetheless, he made it through all three hours, engaging in comforting banter and low laughs with his best mates. When you teamed up with him to mess with Sirius, he at least knew that you weren’t upset with him in any way, even though he was being a lunatic today, even though he most definitely would have deserved it.

What Remus knew would be his breaking point was the Gryffindor party.

It was a laid back event, a party thrown for all of Gryffindor, though it was mostly the upper years who were encouraged to attend. They arranged it halfway through every term to celebrate making it through and engaging with each other. Meaning, most people didn’t get shitfaced but there was some good bubbling energy maintained throughout the whole night.

You and Remus had a tradition for how you dealt with parties – just as you had a tradition for pretty much everything, he had come to notice. Gods, he lov– Stop it.

Neither one of you were necessarily fond of large crowds, but you both were incredibly loyal and fond of your friends and wanted to spend time with them. Thus, you attended the parties, but you always did so together. The more uncomfortable you got, the closer you would get to each other, and if one ever needed a break, they would tap the other three times and they would make up an excuse to usher them out of there.

It had never felt so unnerving to be so known.

Throughout the whole party he had been jittery, head rushing with thoughts. He desperately tried not to take in your outfit and then he desperately tried not to read into it when you seemed disappointed he didn’t compliment you for it like he usually did. Why did he have to be such a sweet best friend normally? Remus can’t keep up with himself.

It did not help him in the slightest that others around the party seemed to focus on your outfit much more openly than he could dare. It made him gravitate even closer to you, tighten his hand on his hip, momentarily rest his chin on the top of your head – and then his actions made him want to kick himself. Possessiveness was the last thing he could be engaging with when he was already betraying you in such a manner. 

Leave it to Remus to fuck up something beautiful.

To say you didn’t seem to notice that he was troubled would be taking it too far, but at least you didn’t seem to notice why. You kept him close to your side and would at random points stroke his back soothingly. He wondered if you just thought he was uncomfortable with the party.

You were chatting with Pandora by the drinks table when Barty and Evan strolled up to you both with cheshire cat grins.

“There he is, back on his leash,” Junior said through a menacing laugh, ignoring Evan’s slight elbow to his side. “Feeling better, darling?”

“What brings you to the lions' den, Junior?” Remus asked carefully to divert the topic.

“Well. Y/N’s going so Pandora’s going so Evan’s going, and thus–” he did a small flourishing spin “– I’m going.”

“You’re impossible,” Evan murmured, while Pandora just smiled happily. 

“Is he feeling better, then?” Barty asked once more, this time looking at you.

“No, actually,” you said with a small smile Remus knew not to be genuine. “He is absolutely devastated you’re not in the Slytherin common room right now. He had big plans for you there, you know.”

Remus tried to choke down his laugh as Barty looked torn between glee and irritation. Somehow he made both work. “Sorry to soil your plans then, Lupin. Better luck next time.”

Then he stalked off in almost a hurry and Remus couldn’t help but hope he was going to Slytherin to check if you were telling the truth. 

He looked down at where you were standing beside him and squeezed your shoulder lightly. “You really are a minx,” he whispered conspiratorially.

That turned out to be his undoing. You turned your head to the side to look up at him with mirth playing around in your enamouring eyes, a soft tilt to the corner of your mouth. And your face was oh so painfully close to his.

Remus became acutely aware that he could easily lean in and catch your smile with his. That the air he was breathing had been close to you in some of the only ways he had not yet. That he must look like your boyfriend when you’re standing essentially pressed up against each other like this.

That he most certainly has been looking at your lips for far too long.

When he flicks his gaze back up, he sees a slight furrow between your brows again as you seem to take in his reaction, and suddenly he goes from having butterflies in his stomach to needing to throw them all up. He took a sudden staggering step backwards, almost crashing into James who was engaging in some animated discussion with Marlene.

“I, uh,” Remus said and dear Godrick he was stammering. “I’ll get us some drinks and we can sit down, yeah?” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead spinning his back to you and hoping you pick up conversation with Pandora again.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t be a bloody arse.

He hoped he had steadied himself enough by the time he plopped down in his favourite grandfather chair near the fire. He placed both of your drinks on the table in front of him, vowing to touch his as minimally as possible to make sure he keeps whatever wits he has left with him.

A dumb smile takes over his face as his breathing quickens when he sees you make your way over to the seating area, after having listened to his desperate silent plea and finished your conversation with Pandora. Pushing his luck, he shoots another silent prayer that it will be smooth sailing from here, which is apparently promptly ignored as you happily sit down in his lap.

Fuck.

This, he reminds himself, is also normal for the two of you. Especially at parties, especially if you have reason to believe he is unsteady in any sense of the word, which he most certainly has given you plenty of reason to believe. 

You give him some form of greeting he can’t quite catch and isn’t sure if he reciprocated as you settle down, putting majority of your weight on his right thigh as you lean your body sideways against his. One of your arms snuck around his shoulders, fingers winding up playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other is stabilising yourself on his knee. Majority of your close friends had followed your lead by sitting down in the small gathering, chattering amongst themselves. He was half-aware that you were rambling on about something to him, something he probably really wanted to listen to, but it felt like his head was underwater.

Unsure of what else to do, he lowered his face into your shoulder and took deep breaths there.

You seemed wholly unbothered, fingers continuing in his hair as your soothing voice carried him through what he feared might become a panic attack. He was almost there, when the cocoon you two had in your chair was burst by the presence of your other friends.

“You alright there, Moons? You’re not going to go all vampire on poor Y/N?” Sirius’ tone was lighthearted and teasing, but Remus felt as if he might actually die.

“Oh, he’s quite alright,” you answered for him with a smile before he could embarrass himself, immediately switching over to engage in conversation with the friends sitting closest to you. Your hand on his knee squeezed reassuringly.

Fuck, how could he not love you?

He loved you.

Remus almost had to fight crying as he hid in the crook of your neck, overwhelmed by his own emotions and the surely watchful gazes of those around him – the latter of which was why he couldn’t. 

With a deep breath he let his desire win for just one second and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before emerging from his hiding place. He shifted you carefully to be more comfortable, so that your back was against him and he could rest his head on the shoulder he just kissed.

He did fairly good, partaking in conversation, engaging with the others, albeit more quietly and less than usual. He laughed and he smiled and you were so soft against him, as if you had melted. Remus was in heaven while being tortured.

Marlene wolf whistled quietly from where she was sat on the floor, eyeing Remus with mirth. Though he still did not know why, he was already turning red, the tips of his ears burning.

“Hi, Remmy.” He heard the soft voice say beside him and he turned his head to see Emmeline giving him a somewhat sly smile. “The dance floor’s picking up. Want to go for another round?”

Remus’ stomach churned. Emmeline was such a sweet girl and he never could say no to her, the only thing that felt worse than the embarrassment from his friends’ teasing was the thought of embarrassing her – though Remus was sure even thinking like that made him into an even bigger arse.

Sirius and James had told him multiple times that he could say no. As had you, reminding him how important it was to have boundaries, even while you were sitting practically on top of him at the time. He just could never bring himself to.

Yet his mouth seemed to move on its own accord before he could think, arms tightening around you. “No, not tonight Emmeline, sorry. Knock yourself out, though.” He tried to give her a warm smile, but his movements seemed to be outside of his control at the moment, breath sucked from his lungs.

He realised with a sting that he should have given her more credit all along when she beamed back at him. “No worries, enjoy your night!” she cheered before twirling towards the dance floor herself.

Remus let out a shaky breath and turned to his friends who were almost staring him down. James’ mouth was even open in shock, which he thought was a bit dramatic.

“Hold on, what just happened?” Sirius guffawed. “Has our little Moony learned to say no?”

Remus flushed even further. “Shut up, Pads.”

“Don’t think I will,” his mate replied with a wolfish grin turning to look to the others for support. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“What’s inspired this change in you?” Mary asked thoughtfully, propping her head into her hands as if she was settling in for a lengthy response.

All eyes were back on Remus and he felt like the mask he had been clinging to all day was crumbling. The nerves that shot through him like lightning now was not his usual humiliation from being in a charged spotlight – no, this was fear. Genuine fear that if he didn’t get his head screwed back on within two seconds, he might say something too revealing, or his face would do it without him having to open his mouth. That his fiery ears would somehow spell out I am in love with my very best friend and I realised it too late and am making it everybody else’s problem. He had no idea what to do.

In his time of despair, with Mary’s big eyes staring up at him, Marlene and Lily already snickering between them and Sirius raising an expecting brow, his instincts knew of only one way out.

His finger on your hip lifted. Tap, tap, tap.

Almost as if a switch had gone off, you made a soft gasp and turned to look at him in his lap. “Gods, Rem, speaking of Emmeline, I totally forgot our gift for Sirius in my dorm in Ravenclaw!” you exclaimed, putting your all into the act. Your excuse seemed to be a good one as Sirius’ head immediately picked up, not unlike that of a dog’s if you said the word ‘treat’ around them. “We have to go get it before the party’s over.”

You elegantly hopped up and out of his lap, dragging him behind him with a grip on his elbow. Remus stumbled and scrambled behind you, tossing a sorry don’t know what that’s about look to the others over his shoulder. He barely caught sight of what he could only classify as a knowing exchange of smiles between James and Lily.

Before he could truly process your rescue mission, he was standing outside in the cool hallway breathing heavily, portrait closed behind him. 

Before him, you stood with your hands on your hips, scanning his face thoroughly, making him almost cower beneath your gaze. You seemed to make up your mind about something as you took his hand once more and walked with him down the hall in silence, rounding the corners until you reached one of the deep windowsills, the kind the two of you would always sit in and read. 

You jumped to lift yourself into it and once you were sat with one hand on each side of your body, you levelled him with a look.

“Okay, spill,” you said, directly but not unkindly. “What is going on with you?”

Remus did not think this through. He needed help and so he called upon you for it like he always does, not thinking to consider that that might very well make this worse for him.

“It’s…” he began, picking at straws in his mind for an excuse. “It’s nothing, dove. Really.” 

“When’s my birthday?” you asked then, to his surprise. He furrowed his brows at you and told you the date. You smiled a bit smugly. “Exactly. So you know I wasn’t born yesterday.”

He genuinely laughed at that, even if it was at his expense. He let his body do as it wished and took a small step closer to you. Not enough for your bodies to touch, but enough to feel like he was in your space. Safe, even in his panic.

“Remus,” you said softly, painfully gently. You rarely used his full first name, and now when you did, it was laced with an undertone he couldn’t stomach. It was beginning to sound a bit like hurt. “What is going on with you? Why… why are you acting this way towards me?”

Because you are the one thing I have never had to question and now I’m questioning everything. Because I’m a bloody prick who has one dream and ruins his life over it. Because my mind is running a mile a minute and your lips feel like magnets and I swear I am losing control in a way I only do during full moons.

“I don’t know what to do,” he ended up whimpering quietly, cowardly.

You looked around the hallway as if the answer would be written on any of the walls and moved your arms slightly to gesture around you. “About what? I can’t help you unless I know what it is, cariad.”

He scrunched his face for a moment, looking away from you. “Can we not do this? It’s nothing you can fix, dove.”

You seemed to grow even more confused at that, almost frustrated. “Why not?” He realised then that the two of you had always helped each other through everything. Being locked out must hurt. He wanted to kick himself, but he didn't know what else to do. “What’s wrong, Remus? Please, I just–”

Remus is besieged by the power of someone much more reckless, driven by desire to alleviate you of your confusion and him of his pain.

He cut you off with a kiss.

He took a large stride forward to slot himself in between your thighs, eliminating the space between you within a second, bringing both hands up to cup the sides of your face and pull it towards him. His eyes were shut tightly, furrow in his brows as his lips all but smashed against yours in a kiss that felt sacrificially sacred. Your lips are just as soft as in his dream, as is the small gasp that escapes you as you tense in his grasp.

Remus has never felt better and he has never felt worse.

The kiss lasts for about 10 seconds before he pulls away in even more of a flurry. His hands lost their grip on you first, hovering over your cheeks briefly, as if considering going back in before thinking better of it. He still had you captured in the kiss, hanging on to it for as long as he could deign himself, knowing it was his last opportunity to do so, all the while kicking himself over it.

Backing away, he put double the distance between you. He felt drunk, stumbling slightly as he all but scrambled away, a stinging sensation behind his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I don't know why I did that. I didn’t mean to,” he breathed out, reeling at his own impulsivity. “That,” he said through a shaking voice as he looked anywhere but your face, “is my problem, and Y/N, I am so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

For the shortest second, he lets his eyes flicker quickly over your face before rushing back to stare at a statue on the wall beside you. Your face was blank, eyes wide. Your fingers were barely touching the lips he had just enclosed in his own.

You must be disgusted. You must be horrified. You must feel violated and Remus wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of the earth and rid you of this undying problem.

He was every bit the beast you had tried to convince him he wasn’t.

“Why…” you began, voice but a whisper, before you trailed off.

Remus had to shut his eyes at that, tilting his head slightly to the side. If he breathed through his nose, he might not cry. He was sitting before the highest court he knew, and you were about to ask him to explain himself.

“Why are you sorry?”

The words floored him a little, enough to make his eyes snap open and land back on your face. You looked deeply concerned, brows tilted upwards as you seemed to take his face in. “Remus,” you whispered now that you finally had his eyes on you. “Why are you sorry?”

He shook his head in confusion, feeling every bit like the boy he was. “I shouldn’t have done that.” It was all he could get out through his hoarse voice. He also had no idea how to answer that question in a satisfactory way.

You took in a short sharp breath and then lowered yourself onto the ground to stand before him. With your hands held out in front of you, almost as if you were ready to lunge out and catch him if he was to run – an idea that was becoming increasingly enticing to him – you took a small step towards him. “Why?” There was a growing spark in your eye, dimmed only by your worried frown.

“Y/N.” He didn’t know what else to say, eyes trained on you.

“Cariad,” you replied in the same tone, and a tear slipped down his left cheek. You took another measured step towards him, enough to reach out for him if you wanted to – but of course, you wouldn’t want to, not anymore. “It’s alright.”

He felt dizzy at the lack of the scolding or disgust he had braced himself for, realising how stupid he was for even fearing that from you. No, you would reject him sweetly and kindly, and his heart would never be mended from it. That felt worse, somehow.

“It’s not,” he whispered. “Please don’t say it is.”

You smiled ruefully and took another small step towards him. He could feel the warmth eminating from you. Tentatively, you reached up a hand to wipe at the tear still sitting on his left cheek. He held his breath and fought the urge to lean into your touch, but when you pressed your palm more firmly against his cheek, he couldn’t anymore. A soft sigh escaped him and he let his eyes fall shut as your touch supported him. “It is, my sweet boy,” you whispered with an urgency that almost convinced him. “Remus, can you answer me honestly?”

His body tensed once more as his eyes fluttered open to find yours, reverent. Most parts of him were still screaming at him to run away, to shut up, to do anything but this. His heart seemed to be in charge for the moment, though, and he nodded slowly. Trusting you with his world even as he felt like a traitor in yours.

“All this, today… has it been because you have realised you’re… in love with me?” You seemed to be piecing it together as you said the words out loud, eyes carefully searching his face for his reaction.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and you quickly caught it with your other thumb, both hands now cradling his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said once more.

“You’re not allowed to be,” you whispered, giving him a half-smile, almost as if you were indulging him in a secret of yours. “Please answer the question?”

It was now or never. “Yes.”

To his utter surprise and deep-seated confusion, the smile on your face grew genuine, settling into the one he always searched for. He almost opened his mouth to question it before he was cut off.

No words can describe the sensations that bloomed in his chest, the butterflies that flitted in his stomach, when you used your hands on his face as leverage to pull him towards you for another kiss.

You kissed him. You kissed him. You were kissing.

His mind was threatening to take off like a rocket and captiulate, but his hands had never been more steady as they circled around your waist, splaying out over the small of your back as he dragged you closer. You sighed against him, smile still evident over your lips, and Remus dared – like the bastard he was – to mirror it. 

You were warm against him, but wholly different than you had been in his dream. This felt distinctly real. And just as right.

When you pulled away, your hands had migrated to the back of his neck and you kept your forehead leaned against his. “Good,” you murmured with your eyes still closed. “Because the feeling is mutual.”

He almost reared his head away from you, but managed to only pull back a few centimetres to stare at you in awe. Remus opened his mouth, but no words came out; he could find none intelligent enough to verbalise how utterly gobsmacked he felt.

You seemed to understand him just as well, going by your breathy laugh. There was still that spark in your eye, now shining brightly in the absence of your worry. Had the worry been for him?

“I know I don’t say this enough, but you really are quite an idiot, aren’t you?” you laughed and he slowly felt his heart start beating again.

“Spent too much time with Sirius and James, clearly,” he muttered, half expecting the joke to land flat and you to remember how disgusting he was. Instead, your laugh intensified and you leaned your body further against his. It emboldened him to ask, “What do you mean the feeling is mutual, dove?”

You let your arms glide further up, crossing behind his neck and over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. “Remus John Lupin,” you whispered sincerely. “I am madly in love with you. Romantically. Genuinely. Any thoughts you have that explain that away are false and you mustn't listen to them. I thought you knew by now that I’m always right.”

Even as the grin involuntarily established itself on his face, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. He looked at your face, truly studied it, and he could feel his mind ever so slowly calm down. “You are.”

“What am I?” You were testing him, and he allowed it wholeheartedly.

“Right,” he confirmed. Albeit a bit more hesitantly, he knew better than not to add, “and… in love with me?”

“Two points to Gryffindor.” You reached up to give his lips a soft peck. It felt so natural, like it was already habit for you. He desperately wanted it to be.

“I’m sorry, I’m still reeling from this, dovey,” he confessed, trying to process everything.

There had never been any judgement to be found in your face. “Which parts are you struggling with the most?” 

Your eyes were full of understanding, your face scrunched up in concentration. Remus indulged himself in an old habit by reaching up with one hand to thumb the furrows away. It made you smile just like he wanted it to, and gave him a minute to think. “I don’t understand how I didn’t get it before now. I don’t understand how or why you put up with me. I don’t understand how to keep all these feelings inside such a small heart.”

Your hands were stroking his back carefully as you considered his words. “Well, firstly I would argue your heart isn’t small at all, though I get what you mean. You’re not meant to keep all the feelings inside, you know? That’s when you get all sputtery and jittery and start avoiding your best friends.” You gave him a pointed look and he almost shied under your glance. “Sharing them before you bubble over is always a good thing. We’ll work on it together. As for why I put up with you; I don’t. There’s nothing to put up with, I just enjoy you like we always have.”

Your eyes had trailed off into the distance as you thought, but you brought them back to him with a small smile as you added the final part. “I don’t know what did make you realise, so I can’t help you much there. All I can say is, sometimes we don’t see what is right in front of us.”

Remus nodded along to your words, feeling peace spreading within in that manner only you could inspire in him. He truly was an idiot, wasn’t he? “How long have you known?” he asked then, curiously.

“About you or me?”

“Both?” His smile was becoming closer to his standard sheepish one, and you seemed to preen at the sight.

You bobbed your head side to side as you considered. “It’s hard to pinpoint an exact date – it wasn’t an overnight discovery you know?” Remus did in fact not know nor relate. “But I realised we were in love, not either one’s feelings. It just sat calmly within me.”

“You mean you didn’t freak out to the extent where all students and professors alike were worried about you?”

He grinned at the small giggle that drew from you as you decidedly said, “No. Definitely not.” You studied him for a minute more. “I think I realised about five months ago, but I didn’t feel any real need to rush anything. It felt less like being given a to-do list and more like being revealed the plot twist in a movie before it happens, if you understand? The two best friends get together in the end, don’t tell anyone.”

He ducked his head at that. While he could not relate, your explanation and experience was so wholeheartedly you that it endeared him to no end. “Does that mean we should just ignore it for five more months or…?” His grin turned cheeky as you lightly swatted his shoulder.

“Nah,” you chuckled. “I reckon we’ve waited long enough, yeah?”

He sighed with a smile. “Yeah.”

You both leaned forward at the same time, as if to seal the deal with a kiss. Remus could feel it like electricity in the tips of his fingers, and he understood what you meant about knowing. Now that he was no longer in a constant state of panic, he felt incredibly calm about the whole ordeal.

Or maybe that’s just how he feels around you.

“Should I ask you formally to be my girlfriend, or are we just skipping straight to marriage?” he whispered against your lips.

Remus felt almost wolfish when you barked a loud laugh, throwing your head back and tightening your hold on him instinctively. “I think girlfriend’s enough for now, yeah cariad?”

“If you insist.” He kissed you through his grin, realising that this was all he wanted to do now.

Like he had so many times before, he tightened his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a few circles, legs flying out behind you. Except this time, your giggles were not hidden in his neck but pressed against his lips, and he tried to capture as many kisses as possible while he spun you.

When you landed with a breathless giggle, he kept one arm firmly around your waist as the two of you slowly made your way back to the Gryffindor common room. He wondered if maybe he could grab some blankets and bring you up to the Astronomy Tower so you could be alone without his friends’ meddling. Yet, he wanted to see them as well, ready to volley back any quips about “took you long enough” and “I fucking called it”. Plus, you argued that you should prove that he was in fact alive and sane.

When he walked the halls back to the Gryffindor common room with your body against his, everything felt right. When you entered together, and everyone read what had happened written clearly across your faces, resorting to their usual hoots and hollers, arguably louder than ever before, it never stopped feeling right. 

Remus being Remus, flushed deeply and averted his gaze, as he would continue doing under any uncalled for attention – but your arms squeezing him around the middle brought him right back down and your kiss to his shoulder soothed the burn of their gazes.

“What’s my gift then?” Sirius later asked salaciously as he eyed you two up and down where you cuddled together right back in the same chair, as if nothing changed. Maybe nothing really did.

You grinned widely and cleared your throat. “I honourably present to you,” you said and opened your arms towards Remus with a flourish. “A Moony who is no longer mooning.”

The little group erupted in even more cheers, celebrating the massive feat of taming their brooding boy. Remus couldn’t help but laugh along, even at his own expense. His cheeks were red but it was equally due to the exertion of laughing as it was a tinge of embarrassment. When he hid his face into the crook of your neck again, he didn’t feel nearly as guilty when he pressed a few kisses to the bare skin he found there – even less so when you melted against him with a sigh.

It felt as if a permanent smile had been sown onto his face where he sat, more content than he believed he had been while inside this castle.

Despite Remus Lupin’s disdain for public displays of affection, he had held you publicly many times before this. They all paled in comparison to the feeling of you in his arms now. 

It had always been significant to him in its casualty, just as you have always been significant to him long before he had the mind to put the feeling into words. He will always treasure every moment of your existence in his orbit. Yet the way you melted into his skin now, growing roots in each one of his aching bones – no, nothing could compare to it.

Yes, Remus Lupin ailed from public displays of affection. But you were his cure.

[misspelledwordswizard]

How about a reaction from the Chain to a witch Reader, but in a Harry Potter style?

Reader, in addition to being scared at first, would undoubtedly be confused by the blatant display of magic without punishment. It doesn’t help that she quickly mistakes and identifies Twilight as an Animagus after seeing Wolfie just once. It would definitely lead to an interesting conversation where Reader reveals herself as a witch and explains how, in her world, the Statute of Secrecy exists, along with the reasons it was created.

The Chain would be horrified not by the massive concealment of magic itself, but by the reasons behind it, with the main one being the indiscriminate hunting of magical beings.

Hey, I'm back baby! After a while on vacation and having to deal with the return of my classes, I was finally able to organize myself to return fully, I hope. But hey, I'm sorry for the huge delay with the requests, and happy new year to everyone, considering that this is my first post of the year!

Oh, thanks for the request, I really love crossovers, and I love Harry Potter!

I’ve been here for a few weeks, traveling with this group of men who claim to be heroes of the realm, or something like that. I’m not sure how I ended up here, but it was obvious that this was a different world from mine. For starters, the humans here have pointy ears, like elves. Okay, I can deal with that. And then there are other races, which I’ve never seen anything like in my world. I mean, a race of stone men, seriously? Not to mention the totally different monsters. 

But none of these things surprised me as much as the lack of care with the exposure of magic. Everyone, even the supposed “muggles” who don’t have magic, are fully aware of its existence. It’s natural, it’s normal. But it’s also strange that they don’t have any organ that regulates its use, considering how much it is used. 

From what I could see, one of my traveling companions, who took me in for some reason when I fell on top of them after passing through a strange portal, has magic and uses it medicinally.  I don’t know if the others can do things like that, but from what I’ve noticed, most of them have some object that has some magical property and makes things easier. That boy with the rings – I think his nickname was Legend – has one for every situation. 

Well, okay, I know they’re all called Link, confusing, even more confusing when I found out they’re from different timelines. Is temporal magic really that normalized around here? I’ve only been with them for a short time, and I still find it hard to associate them with their nicknames, because not only are they all blond with blue eyes, which doesn’t help much, but each one seems to have about three different nicknames, and each one is weirder than the last. 

Okay, I’m in a different world, where magic is common and doesn’t need to be hidden. I’m traveling with a group of heroes from different eras who consider themselves brothers, and are, from what I can understand, reincarnations... so why are they acting like this wolf that appeared is some kind of pet? 

— Soooo... you know that this wolf is one of you transformed, right? – I ventured to say. 

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, surprised. They didn’t know? Seriously? They looked at each other momentarily before someone finally answered me. 

— Well, we do know, but how do you know? – The long-haired hero spoke, the Cook, if I’m not mistaken.  

— And how could you not know? It couldn’t be more obvious, I mean, even the markings on his face are the same as the wolf’s, they’re never seen together in the same place, and, to tell the truth, Twilight kind of smells like dog. It’s pretty obvious that he’s an Animagus.  

— Animagus? Huh, Wolfie, are you that thing she said? – The youngest of the group spoke, and the wolf just tilted his head in confusion.  

— Oh, great, it takes her three minutes to figure that out while eight heroes took months to do the same. – Legend complained.  

— Speak for yourself, I knew from the beginning!  

So, they already knew about it, and were just pretending so I wouldn’t find out? Strange people.  

 While the others debated who had been the first to find out about Wolfie, he retransformed, without having to worry about hiding his secret, and approached me, visibly confused and curious. 

— So, in your world, it’s normal for people to turn into animals? 

— I wouldn’t say it’s common, but it’s possible, and all wizards know about it. 

— Wizards? What about people without magic, don’t they know? – The hero with magic joined the conversation, visibly curious. 

— No, of course not. We can’t let the Muggles find out about magic! 

— Muggles? – The little boy asked, interested in the way I called the non-magic users. 

— They’re the non-wizards, we keep magic hidden from them, or else we’d go to war... it’s very dangerous, that’s why the Ministry of Magic exists, to make sure wizards don’t reveal themselves. 

— For Hylia, your world is confusing. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to live in a society as segregated as this one... – I heard the comment coming from one of the quieter boys, the one called Sky. 

 — Yes, well, but it is necessary, or else wizards would still be burned at the stake for using magic to this day. 

— WHAT?! – Everyone gasped as they heard my last statement, shocked by the brutal concept. Oh man, I think this conversation will go on for much longer than I had imagined. 

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter nine - the black lake

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 2363

author’s note: thank you so so so x10389885 for all the love i've been getting as of late!!! i see all your notes, reblogs, and comments and they mean the absolute world to me. wishing you all the best for the coming new year and i hope you all have/had happy holidays!!! <3

that being said...please forgive me for this chapter LMAO

also - if i missed you on the taglist, please let me know!!!

song inspiration: "baby i'm a fool" by melody gardot

“How bad could it be, hm?”

Meeting Parvati’s eyes in your dorm mirror, you considered her seemingly innocent question.

What was the harm, truly?

“Well, he could be horribly ugly.” A puff of hot air escaped your lips at Ginny’s rebuttal. You caught the glare Parvati shot the redhead who could only sheepishly grin.

“Are you trying to suggest she shouldn’t go?”

“Not at all!” Ginny replied. Pausing, she turned to look at you. “Just trying to temper expectations. Don’t want you to be disappointed, ‘s all.” Her change in tone only worsened the sinking feeling that was quickly settling into your gut. Seeming to sense the catastrophizing her sentence had set off in your mind, she piped up. “Hey! If he’s not cute, maybe he’ll be this great guy! Godric knows the lookers can be the absolute worst.” The bitter smile on her face let you know she was thinking of her ill-fated romance with Dean Thomas.

“So, I’m either saddled with some class-act minger or an attractive asshat. Wonderful. Loving these options.”

“I have a feeling my comments have not been entirely helpful this afternoon,” Ginny mused.

“You think?” Parvati rolled her eyes. “What I’m hoping Ginny is trying to say is that you don’t know who’s going to be waiting for you at the Black Lake, so don’t go into it expecting anything, right?”

“Right-o, Patil.”

“Anyhow, it’s not like you’ve been cracking on with anyone recently, right? So, who knows what will happen.”

Your mind seemed to stall over the feelings you hadn’t voiced to anyone. Though Hermione’s eyes had hinted at your affection for a certain Slytherin that first snow of the season, you had yet to be fully candid with your friends.

You fronted a smile. “Right again, Parvati.”

“So…” she drawled, getting up from your bed and standing behind where you sat at your desk. “It’ll be grand, Y/n.” Parvati patted you on the shoulder. “Just grand.”

“Besides, if he tries anything naughty, I’ll jinx him in the—”

“Ginny!”

Having clasped your secret admirer’s latest gift around your neck, you made your descent from Gryffindor Tower. Your friends had kindly let you get ready in peace; their endless chatter had only served to put your nerves on edge. The sun had just begun to set over the surrounding mountains of Hogwarts, casting the grounds in rich blues and oranges from the dying light. Wrapping your arms around yourself in an ill-favored attempt to stay warm, you made your way to the Black Lake, hoping that whoever he was, you wouldn’t have to wait in the winter chill.

As fate would have it, you didn’t have to wait long.

“Y/n!”

Turning around to see who the voice belonged to, you were met with the sight of Zacharias Smith jogging toward you.

A seventh year like yourself, Zacharias Smith was a Hufflepuff you had shared a few classes with over the years. However, the frequency of your shared schedule had petered off as Smith decided to not pursue certain advanced coursework. You’d chat on the occasional run-in, but he was more of an acquaintance than a friend.

One of your last classes with him was History of Magic in fourth year, where you had been seat partners. Smith wasn’t a bad student per se, but he made it perfectly clear studying the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century was not at the top of his priority list. At the end of the year, Professor Binns had assigned each pair of students a section of the International Statute of Secrecy to study and present to the class. You could count on one finger the times Zacharias had helped you with the project, constantly skipping out on study sessions for time on the quidditch pitch. As a chaser for Hufflepuff, Zacharias was perfectly adequate. As a student, he was less so, and you found yourself slaving away for hours to make up for his lack of effort and frankly, blatant disregard for your time. You fourth year-self had most definitely shared an unkind word about the Hufflepuff.

“Zacharias…Hi.” In your nervousness, you rocked back and forth on your feet, still reeling from the realization that the brown-eyed blonde before you was your secret admirer. A feeling shamefully close to disappointment began to gnaw at you. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He let out a light laugh, “Yeah, sorry didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to make sure I caught you before it got too dark. Can’t be getting detention again with Filch. ‘Right bastard, that man.” That made you both chuckle. “Anyhow, L/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, maybe grab a butterbeer?”

Eyes widening at his forthrightness, you let out a shocked laugh causing the blonde’s eyebrows to furrow. “Sorry! Sorry. ‘S just…I’m kind of surprised you’re into me.”

Zacharias stared at you in confusion. “Really? I mean, I’ve liked you since our fourth year—when we had History of Magic together. Don’t you remember—I asked you to the Yule Ball that year?”

In fact, you did remember Zacharias asking you to the Yule Ball after class with flowers. You also remembered politely declining—having already secured a date—only for him to turn right around and ask Romilda Vane seconds later with the same bouquet. Rather classy, that was.

“Yeah, I know I ended up going with Romilda, but you were my first choice, you know.”

Geez, way to butter up a girl.

“Still,” you let out a quick huff of air, “I didn’t think you were the ‘secret admirer’ type. I guess I figured you’d be straight-up with your intentions,” you mused, picking at a loose strand on your sweater. “You don’t seem the type to play the long game with gifts and notes, and all that.”

Zacharias paused, an unreadable expression flickering over his face. Running a hand thorough his cropped locks, he looked away at the Black Lake’s horizon before smiling back at you.

“What can I say?” replied Zacharias. “I’m a chaser. I go after what I want. And what I want, is to take you on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend. So…?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

What an absolute line.

Words on the tip of your tongue to turn him down once again, you remembered the words of your wise friends just earlier that afternoon.

What’s the harm? It’s not like there’s anyone else showing up, no matter how much I might wish for it.

Shoving down your disappointment, you made an effort to smile in return at the Hufflepuff in front of you. “I’d love to, Zacharias.”

Offering his arm, you gingerly accepted, and the two of you walked back toward the castle together, watched only by a lone keeper exiting the nearby quidditch pitch.

After your rendezvous at the Black Lake, you had agreed to meet your friends back at your dormitory to dish. Hence, you were laying on your carpet, chronicling the night’s events in scintillating detail. Like you, your friends were surprised by the identity of your admirer.

“Smith? As in Zacharias Smith?” At your nod, Hannah hemmed and hawed before letting out an expressive, “Huh.”

Sitting up from your horizontal position on the floor, you looked at your friend. “What is it?”

Hannah took her time in answering, before finally finding the words. “It’s just that…Zacharias isn’t exactly who I had been picturing.”

While you were loath to admit it, Zacharias hadn’t been who you were expecting that evening either, nor had he been who you had hoped to see. However, you couldn’t help but wonder why Hannah’s expectations weren’t met.

“Why’s that?” you asked.

Before the Hufflepuff could answer, Ginny gave her two cents, “Well, because he’s a complete wanker.”

“Ginny!”

“What, Han!” exclaimed Weasley, “It’s true! And I know you were thinking it too! He’s one of the worst losers I’ve ever seen—and that’s saying something, considering Ron’s my brother.” That sent you all into a fit of giggles, reminiscing on the times you’d had to witness the sore sport Ron could be when it came to quidditch. “Seriously, though,” the girl continued, “I saw him break a broom in a fit after losing in a scrimmage against Ravenclaw. A scrimmage, Y/n.”

“Not to rag on Zacharias, but I can’t say that I’m terribly fond of him either,” added Hannah. “In our third year, he sold out one of his roommates to Snape after they’d broken into the Potions storeroom together, just so he’d get out of detention. Made it terribly awkward between them for the rest of the term” Hannah sighed, “He’s not exactly a model Hufflepuff.”

Their stories only confirmed the sinking suspicion already settling in your mind. The time you had spent with Zacharias wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t something you took to regularly reminiscing on. You distinctly remembered the feeling of relief when your History of Magic project together had ended. But that had been three years ago.  

Plopping down beside you, Hermione nudged your shoulder. “Maybe he’s turned a new leaf? If he did all of this for you to show how interested he was, something’s had to have changed, right? None of us really know him.”

“I’m really hoping you’re right, Hermione” you admitted. “I think the romantic in me might die if I find out he’s the tosser you lot have made him out to be. After all the thought he put into those gifts and notes…”

“It doesn’t bode well to make assumptions about people, Y/n. Just think about all the things people say about Luna,” remarked Padma to your left.

“Pads!” you gasped in shock.

“Look, I love Luna and all her oddities and idiosyncrasies,” Padma offered, “But if I had listened to all the awful things people have said about her, I’d have never become friends with her. People call her Loony Lovegood for Godric’s sake!”

Padma’s reasoning seemed to strike a chord with your group of friends. Sighing, Hannah turned to level a look at you. “Padma’s right, you know. We shouldn’t assume he sucks just from a handful of choice anecdotes.”

“We’ve forgiven all manner of sins, after all,” surmised Ginny. “Even with Ron’s grousing after losing a quidditch match, Hermione still wants to snog the living daylights out of my brother. Can’t understand it for the life of me.”

“Ginny—enough!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

The next day, Hogwarts’s rumor mill was churning out the news of your impending date with Zacharias Smith. Intending to escape the careless whispers and curious looks waiting for you at breakfast in the Great Hall, you had made your way to the Kitchens. With a quick ‘Hello’ to Dobby and Winky, you grabbed a muffin (or three) and stuffed your mouth before heading towards the library. There, the murmurs of your classmates were kept at bay by the harsh glare of Madam Pince, ever the watchful librarian. However, it seemed not everyone feared the archivist’s death glare.

“You’re going out with that prick, Smith?” The harsh accusation had your head snapping to find the person who had leveled it at you. That clipped tone belonged to none other than your coveted Potions partner currently towering above you and your corner table. To the untrained eye, Theo appeared terribly composed. Yet, you could see the tension in his neck, seemingly like a serpent ready to make a lethal strike. His eyes were glacial, boring into your own, mouth in a stern line to complete his sinister expression.

Narrowing your eyes at the venom leaking from his voice, you snappily answered. “I’ve agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him, yes.”

Theo didn’t seem to very much like your answer.

“Why?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Why’ve you agreed to go out with that gormless git?”

“Excuse me?”

“I thought it was a joke when Enzo mentioned it. I wouldn’t do you the disservice of imagining it possible. How could Y/n go out with someone so incredibly thick and inconsiderate? Imagine my surprise when I found out Berkshire was being completely serious.”

You were struck by the leveled ire of his words. The Theo in front of you was completely unrecognizable to you, no longer the sarcastic and thoughtful Slytherin you had come to know—come to care for. While it was perfectly fair for you to have your reservations about your upcoming date with the Hufflepuff, Theo had no right to poke his nose in your business. Anger began to bubble up inside of you like a heated cauldron.

“Not that it’s your concern, Theo, or Berkshire’s—or anyone’s concern for that matter, but yes, I have agreed to go out with him.”

Theo had the gall to laugh. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am completely serious!” you scoffed. “And he’s been exceedingly thoughtful and considerate, if you must know. Sweets, flowers, notes, and the like! What do you know about being considerate, Theodore? Coming in here to scold me like a child!”

The face in front of you drained of color, no longer a vexed red. Confusion replaced his choleric expression before settling into his stony façade once more.

“You really think Smith would do all of that, for you? That he would care about you that much?”

His questions sent a painful pang through your heart, never expecting such cruelty from someone you had come to consider as a friend, and possibly more.

“As a matter of fact, Nott, I do.” With each word out of your mouth, that carefully constructed mask of measured indifference solidified. Everything you said would only bounce off his exterior. The boy in front of you was beyond reach.

Kissing his teeth, Nott hummed. “And here I was, giving you more credit than you deserved. My mistake.” With that, the Slytherin spun on his feet, making his swift exit from the library.

With half a mind to go after him, you popped out of your seat, chair screeching against the ground. You called out at his retreating form.

“Nott, what—where are you going? We’ve got Potions in five!”

“You’ll manage without me, L/n.”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7, @adoraspace, @spencerreidsthings, @crimsntwlip, @readingthingsonhere, @sbrn0905, @violet2022, @aemiliazzz, @hoeforvinniehackerrr, @chgrch, @the-sylver-dragon, @ahead-fullofdreams, @thoughtfultrashcolor, @valenftcrush, @shereadsandcries, @someoneisreading, @killyoselff, @lovrsm, @teslaraven20, @ezziewinchester, @whyareyouhere66, @whosyourgnomie, @ahead-fullofdreams, @the-sylver-dragon, @chgrch, @ellen3101, @cobrakaineverdiesblog, & @lazycrazyme

[forestdeath1]

The Black family as representatives of ancient "Anglo-Saxon elite"

To me Blacks were never partially French. I'm not saying the headcanon "Blacks are partially French" isn't valid, it's just not as interesting to me and it strips away nuances from their history. Here's why.

(It’s just my fantasies mixed with historical facts! Don’t take it too seriously)

Firstly, their choice of surname.

I've noticed that two main Death Eater families bear surnames of French and Norman origin. Lestrange and Malfoy (fictional, but the "origin" is clear). And then there's Rosier and Avery. Rosier – definitely French, and Avery – from the Middle English and Anglo-Norman French personal name Aevery, a Norman form of Alfred. There are no other surnames like this in Harry Potter, except for Peverell (correct me if I'm wrong).

Clearly, this is a reference to the Norman Conquest of 1066. These Death Eaters could be associated with aristocratic and influential families who came to England after the Norman Conquest. This is a nod to the historical division in English society between Normans and Anglo-Saxons, where Normans represented the upper echelon of society, while Anglo-Saxons were less privileged.

Yes, I'm Captain Obvious here. So let's move on to the Blacks.

The surname Black is typically Anglo-Saxon. It could have derived from the Old English word 'blæc,' meaning 'black' or 'dark,' and may have been used to describe someone who wore black clothing or had dark hair.

(Old English emerged around the 5th-6th centuries and was used in England for about 600 years, until the 11th century. This period ended after the Norman Conquest in 1066).

Hogwarts, canonically, appeared over 1000 years ago. That is, before the Norman Conquest. (But Hogwarts Castle couldn't exist yet, because castle technology was brought by the Normans). The Blacks call themselves "the noble and most ancient house of Black." That is, the oldest family, and also the noblest. Maybe they were "noble" in the sense that they belonged to the elite of Anglo-Saxon society (which was fragmented into small kingdoms). But they consider themselves the oldest family among those who trace their lineage and uphold the nobility (purity) of their blood. Considering that "Hogwarts" appeared before the Norman Conquest, I fantasize that such families already existed back then. A lot of families are extinct. Except the Blacks.

So the Blacks are a reflection of "Anglo-Saxon aristocracy." And here I headcanon that the Blacks still considered themselves more entitled than everyone else, mocked the Malfoys and Rosiers, and generally looked down on anything French. Fanatics to the bone and lovers of elevating themselves above all.

Why the motto in French – in the Middle Ages, the use of Latin and French languages was common among European aristocracy (despite the fact that there is NO aristocracy among wizards, but they could have been part of the aristocracy before the introduction of the Statute of Secrecy). The French language was often considered the language of diplomacy and culture, and its use in mottos and coats of arms was a common phenomenon. Here I just headcanon that one of the Blacks either had a strange sense of humour, or wanted to put an end to the ancient feud of the Blacks with all things French and start the family on some new beginnings. Maybe they married someone with French roots to expand their influence.

Of course, all this can be explained differently. The headcanon that the Blacks have some French part also makes sense. But for me personally, that's not so interesting, considering the obvious connections of the Lestranges and Rosiers with France (Vinda Rosier, Lestrange family Mausoleum in Paris). I prefer the Blacks who are so arrogant that they even consider themselves "true English wizards," not "like those Malfoys." And I headcanon that this was not a real confrontation, but rather a pretext for jokes and fuel for greater kindling of their vanity.

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY PRIDE GRANDMA!!!🌈 GOT UP AT 5 AM FOR THIS ❤️ CAN I PRETTY PLEASE GET SOME PERCY & TONKS FOR MY SLEEP DEPRIVED ASS? LOVE U XOXO

Tonks sits across from her parents in a muggle cafe only a couple blocks from The Leakey Cauldron and scowls. Her mother is unaffected and her father is just amused. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice," Ted protests.

Her mother just hums. "Does he at least know you two are dating now?"

"He always knew we were dating, I was very clear about that, he was just dealing with some denial," she says. She does her best not to sound defensive, but her mother always brings it out in her.

Andromeda hums again and takes a delicate sip of her tea. If Tonks sends out a patronus right now, she can probably put an end to this before it has a chance to start. Of course, she'll have to arrest herself for violating the statute of secrecy by performing a very obvious spell in front of a bunch of muggles, but she's pretty sure she'd get off for good behavior.

Hm. Actually, that's a fun thought, she should keep that in mind for when they get home -

"Dora," Percy says, his hand on her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed him come in. She gives him a quick once over, but he's left the robe at the office and subtly transformed his clothes so that he blends in seamlessly with the muggles around him. An unexpected benefit to dating the son of the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department is that he's far more comfortable in her father's world than any other pureblood she knows, even if the technology occasionally leaves him flummoxed.

Arthur and Ted are going to get on so well that she and Percy have agreed to put it off as long as possible.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tonks," he greets, leaning over to shake both their hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Her parents actually seem taken aback. Tonks's past lovers included musicians and painters and activists, a zoologist and a curse breaker.

Serious, subdued Percy in his pressed slacks restrained manner must seem far from her usual type.

They'll learn.

[trothplighted]

Wizard Fashion 2/?: The Robe Volante, or What Follows the Mantua

When we last left off discussion of wizard fashion in England, it was an examination of the point of divergence between the wizarding world and the Muggle world - in particular, how the mantua (a popular women’s garment from around the time of the Statute of Secrecy being enforced) can be seen as a Watsonian/in-universe inspiration for wizarding fashion in HP. I was inspired to take this question up again by @hollowed-theory-hall’s really incredible series of posts about Hogwarts school robes, because while I agree that the fashions of the late medieval period and Renaissance were definite inspirations I also want to argue for lesser-known fashion trends as potential tastemaking Events in the wizarding world.

To that end, let’s discuss the oft-forgotten robe volante, also called a saque or robe battante. (Next time we’ll talk about banyans, I promise!) The mantua, as mentioned in my prior post, was a robelike garment created by draping and cutting and pinning pieces of fabric to fit its wearer and worn over a stomacher and petticoats. The robe volante marked a transition between the mantua and the robe a la francaise that became a mark of 18th century fashion, and, well…

This is even more of a “robe”, particularly a wizard’s robe as it’s described by Rowling. A less-structured garment with some definition at the waist and made of elegant, elaborate cloth? That’s identical to many of the clothes worn by wizards like Albus or Lucius or Draco. We know that despite separatist attempts, Muggle fashion continues to creep into wizard culture, and it’s not hard to believe that robes volante and mantuas both formed significant points of divergence away from Muggle fashion history. It’s even possible that their popularity in the wizarding world is the source of wizarding men’s avoidance of trousers when they’re not wearing Muggle clothing - with the Statute so new and so in focus, “crossdressing” or adopting Muggle-feminine aesthetics as a signal of your own refusal to assimilate into Muggledom and therefore your compliance with the Statute might have been a factor to consider.

next time I’ll talk about the men. I promise I will.

[pangaeaseas]

I actually think dh should have ended with a revolution against the statute of secrecy

[snail-pot]

So. I don't know bout you guys, but I get excited when I reach these "bookmark milestones" (ex. I've bookmarked 200 fics, I've bookmarked 300 fics, etc etc). ANYWAY, I was thinking, to celebrate my 400th bookmark, why not make a list of Harry Potter fics I've bookmarked throughout my time on Ao3?

Gen: [AKA General Relationships, Little to No Romance]

"riding up the wrong path" by ashen_key [Lily Luna Potter, Character Study, Oneshot]

When Lily is eighteen, she cuts her hair and joins the army. The British Army. The British Muggle Army. Despite what the gossip papers say, she leaves her wand at home. She's not a complete idiot. – – Oh, right. Maybe take a few steps back.

"The Statute of Secrecy" by Shairanna [Muggle POV, Muggles, Crack Treated Seriously, Oneshot]

They were, of course, just Muggles, and as such had no idea that magic was real, and that wizards and witches lived hidden among them. Or so the witches and wizards thought.

"The Time That Wood Didn't Play" by HPfanatic12 [Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley, Humor, Oneshot]

Due to an injury, Oliver has to stay off the field for a bit and Lee Jordan offers him the opportunity to be the quidditch commentator. Professor McGonagall allows it Only to discover that Wood is much worse than Jordan ever was

"In Which Lucy Despises Sundays" by HPfanatic12 [Lucy Weasley, Percy Weasley, Next Gen, Family Issues]

Lucy didn't like Sundays all that much And it all has to do with how people treat her dad

"Home Alone: The Battle of Hogwarts" by Kosaji [Crossover, Kevin McCallister, Crack Treated Seriously, Multi-chapter, Completed]

Based off this prompt from writing-prompt.tumblr.com: Harry, Hermione, and Ron are killed interrupted early in their search for Horcruxes. Voldemort orders a full invasion of Hogwarts to find the remaining ones. In a panic, Hogwarts is evacuated. One student slept through the evacuation order: 4th year American transfer student Kevin McCallister.

"'Hope' is a Thing With Feathers" by PeachyKeener [Percy Weasley, Weasley Family, Family Issues, No Bashing, Oneshot]

A coward in the eyes of his family he may be but if he had the chance to save even one life he would take it. What Percy Weasley did during the war, in brief moments, and the reconciliation of his family.

"Ron Weasley, Dad of the Gryffindor Tower" by likes_koolaid [Ron Weasley, Gryffindor Boys, Fatherly Advice, Oneshot]

5 times Ron acted like a dad. Aka 5 times the boys in the dorm (minus Ron) didn't have fathers

"Consanguinity" by StygiasCanes [Percy Weasley, Weasley Family, Angst, Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Multi-chapter, Ongoing]

The Second Wizarding War ends, but Percy is nowhere to be found. Six months later, a traumatized Percy is rescued from a Death Eater hideout. How do the Weasleys put their family back together when Percy never had the chance to redeem himself at the final battle, and will they be able to help Percy recover?

"You're Not Supposed to be Here?" by pretty_scary_vampire [Muggle Shenanigans, Crack Treated Seriously]

Muggles can't see Hogwarts in all its glory. Instead, they see smoking, crumbling ruins that they avoid at all costs in fear of being crushed to death. What happens when a young woman decides that she's going to explore Hogwarts? Chaos, an annoyed Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall being ignored, and never ending giggling, that's what.

Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood: [Romance]

"Oliver's Obsession" by orphan_account [Teen]

The Gryffindor Quidditch team is fed up with Oliver constantly pestering them. They decide to do something about it.

"Still think he's the weakest" by Hhhhhheeeeeelloo1 [Not Rated]

Based on that b99 scene where Jake jumps into Terry’s arms when he was holding coffee. You know the one. But with Percy and Oliver.

"Strip poker (and other dangers" by SquaresAreNotCircles [Teen]

“Strip poker?” Oliver offered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, just as the compartment door slid open. “Er,” Percy said. Or: Oliver and his best friend are bored, Percy has incredible timing and everybody keeps their clothes on.

"The Hottest Weasley" by orphan_account [Teen]

A notice appears in the Gryffindor common room, asking a very important question: Who Is The Hottest Weasley?

"Preparing" by orphan_account [Teen]

The Gryffindor quidditch team prepare their captain for one of the most important events of his life.

"It's the truth" by SquaresAreNotCircles [Teen]

Fred and George refuse to believe Percy has a girlfriend. Oliver seems to know more. It's all very mysterious, until it isn't.

"good old-fashioned loverboy" by aeoneskova [Teen]

Due to a slight mix-up in calculations, Percy Weasley ends up sharing his dorm with only one other person. Unfortunately, that person just so happens to be the complete opposite of Percy himself. In order to avoid the inevitability of strangling Oliver Wood by seventh year, Percy moves their beds to opposite sides of the dorm. However, over their years at school, circumstances gradually bring them closer together. or; Percy Weasley being irritated for 7 years straight. Ironically, it’s very gay.

"In Which Fred and George Weasley Go Through the 5 Stages of Grief Because their Brother is Dating Their Quidditch Captain" by apollospec [Teen]

[NO SUMMARY AVAILABLE]

"At least he has great abs" by Irisen [Teen]

There's nothing quite like waking up to your mother texting you a picture of your soulmate's abs.

"Burn Across the Sky" by MoonytheMarauder1 (beforethemoon) [Teen]

Suddenly, Oliver stopped speaking. His brown eyes had locked onto something on the other end of the Quidditch Pitch, and a grin overtook his features—completely unlike the serious scowl that had been sitting there before. Wide-eyed with shock, the Gryffindor Quidditch team turned as one to find the source of Oliver's distraction. The only thing that could have caused it, however, was the person walking briskly past the stands, a stack of books in his arms and a worn Gryffindor scarf wrapped snugly around his neck: Percy Weasley. Harry turned around just in time to watch Fred, George, and Ron's jaws drop as one. The three Weasleys glanced from their captain to their brother, then back again. Fred was the first to speak. "You're shitting me," he breathed. o.o.o Or, When Oliver Wood stops talking about Quidditch to stare at Percy Weasley, Ron, Fred, and George know something is up.

"The Exploding Charm" by perilouspursuits [Teen]

It's funny the things that come back to hurt and help you. In the end Percy chooses a side and it doesn't take long for him to know he's chosen right.

Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas: [ROMANCE]

"It's Tough to Have a Crush" by obliviateme [Teen]

Dean Thomas has had a crush on Seamus Finnigan since second year. Four years later, Seamus kisses him on the way back from a Hogsmeade trip. A week after that, they still haven't spoken about it. Dean struggles to bring up his feelings, and he's not sure if Seamus will let him down about this.

"The Perfect Vows" by KillianJones32 [Gen]

“You’re okay with writing our own vows right?” Dean had asked him over three months ago. Dean had looked at him with those big brown eyes and wide grin and really how was Seamus supposed to say no? But now the time had actually come to writing those vows and Seamus was struggling, quite a bit actually.

"Painting Seamus" by KillianJones32 [Teen]

Dean is an artist who hasn’t submitted anything for his portfolio in weeks and he ends up doing a painting of his roommate Seamus who he's had a crush on for over a year.

"Breakfast in Company" by Anemone_nemerosa [Teen]

Prompt: I run a bed & breakfast and you showed up for your reservation alone. Do you understand what the purpose of a b&b is? It's a bright and sunny day mid-October when Dean meets the most peculiar person to ever enter his life.

"Doodles" by fandomgalore [Gen]

Dean likes to doodle to keep his hands occupied. Over the years, his doodling subject range narrows down to one.

"(Star)Gazing at You" by Three Guesses (Thr3eGuess3s) [Gen]

It's Christmas and all Seamus wants to do is get Dean alone under the mistletoe, but Hogwarts and it's mysteries may just get in the way of that. (Yes, btw, I am indeed aware that I'm posting a Christmas fic in July don't @ me)

"A Slight Pyromaniac's Guide to Love and Potions Class" by Anonymous [Gen]

Seamus Finnigan is Potions partners with Dean Thomas. They're making Amortentia. What an inconvenient time to be in love with your best friend. // Inspired by a tiktok by @mariuslee! It's where I got the dialogue for the actual Amortentia scene from, and it inspired me to write this whole fic in the first place!

"Write on Me" by orphan_account [Gen]

At the age of 17 everyone gets a tattoo of their soulmates name in their hand writing. Or the one where Dean won't tell Seamus who his soulmate is until Seamus's birthday.

"ní bhíonn toit gan tine" by fallthroughtimelikeme [Explicit]

Dean is staying over in Séamus's house for part of the summer holidays. Stormy nights, cuddling in bed, awkwardness, and sex ensues.

"Lost Bed, Found Love" by NearlyHeadlessNicci [Explicit]

A Prank War amongst the Gryffindor Eighth Year Boys gets slightly out of hand. Dean ends up suffering some undeserved consequences, but does he really suffer?

"Hiding Scrawl, Licking Freckles, and Other Average Wizard Things" by tamerofdarkstars [Gen]

Someone out there is obsessed with his freckles, and damn it, Seamus Finnigan wants to know who. - Uselessly fluffy Soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in an shifting magic tattoo

"The Truth in Black and White" by brokenbottleaurora [Teen]

Seamus and Dean are already best mates- but could they be soulmates? After the first 6th year potions class, the answer is clear. Pure Deamus fluff. Not canon compliant (shifted timeline).

"watch the stars burst into light" by anonymous_koala [Gen]

After Dean's 18th birthday, he's finally able to communicate with his soulmate. Who are they? Will he ever get to meet them? A soulmates can see everything written on the other's skin AU.

Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood: [ROMANCE]

"darling, the mess is half the fun" by slyther_ing [Teen]

In retrospect, the twins probably could've gotten their answer by just asking Oliver whether he and Flint were a thing - but when have they done anything the easy way? (In which the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams attempt to get their captains together, and Marcus' reputation suffers.)

"Your feet above the ground" by Phantomato [Explicit]

And if he’d attended potions, and couldn’t remember anything, and was now groggy and prone in front of multiple professors in the Hogwarts infirmary, that could only mean one thing: potions accident.

"Come a little closer" by MInnie0503 [Teen]

Marcus Flint gets engaged. Oliver Wood starts a fight. They both end up with ten shared detentions and it all goes tits up from there. Or: How many detentions does it take for two boys to admit they like each other?

"The Inked Snitch" by your_token_trophy_wife [Teen]

While Oliver’s quidditch days may be over, his quidditch supply shop is near perfection. Perhaps he’s a little lonely and a tad sheltered too, but Oliver would much rather keep to himself than have his heart broken. That’s not too much to ask for is it? Though when a magical tattoo shop opens up next door, Oliver’s in for a lot of surprises, including bad flirting, third-wheeling and the return of an old rival. Alternatively: A shop!AU where both shopkeepers are hopeless at flirting, great at drawing conclusions and absolutely inept at talking about their feelings.

"Adversary" by RoemaencePartnaerr [Teen]

Oliver was pretty sure he had shaken hands with every other person in the school, yet he still hadn't met his soulmate.

"chalk this one up as a win" by tamerofdarkstars [Teen]

Oliver Wood wakes up in the Hospital Wing a week after his first Quidditch game ever with a head injury and his soulmate's thoughts wound around his left wrist. Frankly, he's more concerned about missing the Quidditch game.

"rolling with the punches" by sadie18 (orphan_account) [Gen]

no matter what- the era, the age, the universe, muggle or wizard- oliver wood was always there - alternatively, marcus has a long dream, he wakes up in a different reality every day, and he just can't get away from oliver wood note: the plot isn't apparent from the very beginning, so stick with it please! it clicks into place

"you're good at quidditch" by ramathorne [Not Rated; FANART]

A 4 page comic interpretation of a scene from chalk this one up as a win. slightly unfinished. still made with love.

"Does it smell like bleach to you?" by Surperb [Teen]

Oliver Wood overhears a private conversation while cleaning the broom shed.

"what my hands were made for" by hexiewrites [Teen]

There had been a small silver Quaffle inked into the skin on Oliver’s right hipbone since before he knew how to walk. His mother had gasped delightedly the day it had appeared, shimmering onto his skin as if by magic.

OTHER FICS: [The ones that don't really fit into a specific category, but I love and appreciate them regardless]

"Ottery St. Catchpole" by Erisah_Mae [Teen]

Tumblr Prompt from accio shitpost: "i wanna see a muggle who goes stealth among wizards purely by having a ridiculous aesthetic" A muggle moves to Ottery St Catchpole a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts, and there's a slight misunderstanding.

"A Touch of Mystery" by Edie_K [Teen]

At their weekly lunch, the Weasley brothers learn some surprising new information and the balance of power shifts. Canon compliant, set two years after DH.

"A Crown of Lilac Fingertips" by wickersnap [Teen, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley]

When they’d shaken hands on the train and Harry had pulled back with a bright, grass green imprint on his hand, he had gasped, excited, and asked Ron what it was. At thirteen years old green becomes lilac, and at fourteen lilac becomes red. At seventeen it's both, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

"The Sign" by Hang_In_There_Baby_Crookshanks [Gen, Justin Finch-Fletchley/Ernie Macmillan]

Justin Finch-Fletchley thinks he has zero chance of being asked out for Valentine's Day. Is he about to be pleasantly surprised? Or will the irritating muggle song that he seems to be the only one able to hear drive him crazy first?

"why not both" by varnes [Mature, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley/Viktor Krum]

“Small baby,” Krum diagnosed, sounding delighted by this. “World too big, yes? Wants back in small, warm place, yes?” Ron realized that he was holding his breath. He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking at Krum like she was definitely, absolutely going to leave Ron for him, and honestly, at this moment, Ron felt that was fair. Ron was going to leave himself for Krum. Ron was going to rob all the banks in the world to get Viktor Krum back his money as long as it meant he’d keep their beautiful, perfect, angelic monster of a screaming baby quiet. “I want to be in a small, warm place,” Hermione muttered, and then squeaked a little realizing she’d said it out loud. Rose giggled. “Shidole,” she whispered, looking pleased and interested, smacking at Krum’s chest. “Rose, don’t call our guests shitholes,” Hermione scolded, and then said, “Viktor, you can stay as long as you like.” - Or: The Ron/Hermione/Krum fic that absolutely nobody was hankering for in the year of our Lord 2020.

"can take the sting (if you heal my bruises)" by oliverwvvd [Teen, Cormac McLaggen/Ron Weasley, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood]

Prompted by peachpety for Quidditch Fest 2021. I hope this fulfils what you hoped for to some degree! Cormac McLaggen and Oliver Wood hold the record for the two Keepers in the Quidditch league with the most injuries to date respectively. Oliver plays it risky and ends up in the hands of an exasperated Marcus Flint, ex-Montrose Magpies player turned Healer. Cormac, on the other hand, has a persistent crush on Ron that everyone knows about...except for Ron, who is oblivious, right up until the moment that he isn't. [Original prompt/request: Person A plays professional Quidditch and is prone to injury. All the more reason to see the team physician, his secret crush. Person B is the exasperated team physician at his wit's end with the only player for whom he pines. UST OUT THE WAZOO & happy endings, please.]

"Petunia Evans, a Retelling" by HouseElfMagic [Teen]

Petunia remembered magic. Being young and making things happen--strange things, impossible things--and then the pain when that man took it all away, locked it inside her. She doesn't get it back until Lily's started Hogwarts already and by then she's old enough to decide she wants to keep her own magic a secret. She didn't know that this would ultimately lead her on a quest to raise her nephew and defeat an evil megalomaniac calling himself Voldemort. But, well, here she is. She will do whatever it takes to keep her nephew safe. And hey, if she gets a pseudo father, rescues a convict, makes friends, becomes an almost permanent babysitter to two additional children, and writes books along the way, then that's a definite bonus.

"Like a Dream" by orphan_account [Teen, Viktor Krum/Ron Weasley]

Ron's life had been in a routine for so long. He did his job as an Auror even though he didn't love it, he lived alone but decided he was okay with it, and he ignored that his soulmate was a person who felt more like a fantasy than a reality.

"Loopholes" by orphan_account [Gen, Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan]

To prank his well despised DADA professor, Umbridge, after she put up a decree that prohibits boys from being too close to girls, George Weasley ingeniously finds a loophole and eventually gets his twin brother and his best friend to fake date. Which, however, wasn't going to last long in the first place, especially due to Lee's annoying crush on Fred.

"the art of bending rules" by orphan_account [Gen, Fred Weasley/Lee Jordan]

Umbridge thinks the only way to control the rebels at Hogwarts is to put up rules — and more rules, and then a few more rules after that. Unfortunately, what she doesn’t understand is that there is nothing most rebels are better at than bending the rules. It’s an art to perfect, as Fred says.

Happy reading! Don't be afraid to ask for recs and I'll do my best to answer them :))

[why-not-jane]

Twice Chosen

Harry Potter kindly offers to mentor the newest chosen one, an eleven year old reincarnated King Arthur.

But kings don't have mentors.

They have advisors.

And accepting advice is always optional.

__________________________________________

Privately, Harry thought that prophecy spheres, particularly those involving children, should be encased in concrete and sunk in the Black Lake, like how a muggle mob boss would disappear an inconvenient reporter.

Not so privately, Hermoine agreed. At length, and in several strongly worded recommendations filed the with Department of Mysteries. Eventually, it had taken a back seat to her S.P.E.W. campaign, which the Department of Mysteries was probably as grateful for as the Department of Magical Creatures was not.

Luckily for both, the full force of Hermoine Granger was currently debating a government official who had never heard of the war hero or the war she’d fought in and was refusing to give her an ounce of respect.

That left Harry to deal with the official’s son.

He had struggled to live up to the title of The Boy Who Lived. So the eleven year old son of the muggle Prime Minister who’d been unwittingly crowned Once and Future King had his full sympathy.

“I’m supposed to be one of these magical people, then?” the eleven-year-old looked up at him from his newly received Hogwarts letter, piercing blue eyes staring shrewdly at the saviour of the wizarding world.

Sat in a leather armchair in the drawing room of Number 10 Downing Street, the child looked better suited to dismantling labour unions than drinking pumpkin juice in the Hogwarts dining hall. Harry bit back a smile. In his experience, solemn little boys proclaimed to be chosen ones did not remain solemn into their teenaged years.

“A wizard,” Harry acknowledged, and the boy thoughtfully tilted his head.

“Does this have anything to do with that Once and Future King business?”

Harry’s brain came to a standstill. While he’d always intended to broach the prophecy with the boy (like hell Harry would let him be the last to know of his own destiny) he hadn’t expected the muggle-born to come pre-informed.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, “How do you know about that?”

“A lady in a pond in Cardiff mentioned it when I was eight,” he answered primly. “Father sent me to find the golf ball he’d fired into the water hazard.”

Harry suddenly wished Hermoine were in here with them, instead of across the hall with Shacklebolt and an irate muggle prime minister. At least then he’d have someone far smarter than him to share in his gobsmacked expression.

“What else did this lady say?”

The boy shrugged. “That Merlin and I are to reunite Albion. And I’m the reincarnation of King Arthur.”

He tilted his chin proudly in way Harry could only assume he’d been taught for photo opportunities. The image of an oversized golden crown balancing precariously on his small head jumped to Harry’s mind. “You don’t seem surprised,” he noted.

The boy shrugged again. “A portrait at Buckingham said the same thing. And the dragon in the Lake District,” the boy shivered. “But the lady in the pond was the nicest.”

No dragon Harry knew of talked, but those he had met didn’t seem like they’d be the kindest of creatures. He made a mental note to follow up back at the office, as he was fairly certain the Lake District did not have a designated dragon reserve, and if there was such a thing as talking dragons, they must surely have a responsibility to uphold the Statute of Secrecy.

The boy suddenly slid forward in his chair, leather squeaking. “When do I meet Merlin?” he asked eagerly. “

Idly tapping on the end of his wand sticking out slightly of his palm holster, it was Harry’s turn to shrug, “Whenever we find him, I suppose.”

That was truly the crux of the matter. Few in the wizarding world cared for the legend of King Arthur, the knights of the round table, or the holy grail. What mattered was what their rebirth signified; the return of the greatest wizard who ever lived.

But eleven years later, the Prince of Enchanters was notably absent.

The boy crossed his arms and slouched back in his armchair with a thud. Briefly, Harry recognised his cousin in the brattish set of his lip, and immediately swore to himself he’d never tell Dudley that he shared any similarities with a king of legend, flattering or otherwise.

Clearly unhappy with Harry’s non-committal answer, the boy asked, “What about this threat we’re supposed to face together?”

“Erm,” Harry paused, having been trying not to think about that for the last eleven years. Something worse than Voldemort and company really didn’t bear dwelling on.

“So if you can’t tell me what I’m up against, or where my Merlin is, what use are you?”

More and more like Dudley by the minute.

“I gave you your Hogwarts letter,” Harry said indignantly, then swallowed the rest of his rising irritation. Losing his temper at the boy he’d offered to mentor really wasn’t going to endear himself to anyone. And Hermoine would be mortified.

Gently, he continued, “and believe me, prophecies should never be dealt with alone.”

“But I won’t be alone,” the boy replied with the kind of certainty one can only be born with, “I’ll have Merlin.”

The growing feeling that it was he who was out of depth in this conversation, rather than the muggle born boy, was sinking rapidly into Harry’s chest.

The wooden doors swung open to reveal an austere looking Uther Pendragon marching through the door in black wingtip shoes and a finely tailored grey suit. With his grey hair and eyes, the muggle minister was the picture of monochromatic stoicism. Not at all like the eggplant-coloured man who had tried to throw a fourteenth-century Ming Dynasty vase at Shacklebolt an hour earlier.

“Arthur,” the Prime Minister kept his voice intentionally level, Hermoine and Kingsley following behind him, “As you have been informed of your… abilities, Ms Granger and Mr Potter here will take you to get supplies for,” he looked down at the parchment letter he held and sneered slightly at the Hogwarts crest clearly blazoned, “school.”

Hermoine gave Uther the same look the prime minister gave the Hogwarts letter. Shacklebolt and Harry shared a grimace.

Uther’s son nodded dutifully.

His father continued, “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that despite the differences in academic curricula, you will live up to the family name.”

Harry held back a wince at that. While the wizarding legends of Camelot were just as wild and inconsistent as their muggle counterparts, they suggested that the Pendragon name left a mixed legacy to uphold.

The afternoon sun decided at that moment to shoot through the windowpane behind the boy, lighting up his golden hair in harsh symbolism, even as the drifting dust motes sung of lost magic in the air.

“Of course, Father,” said Arthur Pendragon.

Continue reading Ch1-3 at link below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61141312/chapters/156227881#main

[tricksterringmaster]

Great now yap about Albus and Gustav :3

I can yap about them for a long time 💀 I think they are very interesting (I say, as if I didn't create this ship for my own amusement, lol).

Albus, as we all know, is quite a bit of a manipulative bastard both for bad and for good, while Gustav has a moral backbone much stronger than his physical one. They are both kind of broken, but in different ways: Albus with his family and romantic relationship, Gustav with his curse, consequences of it that affect both his body and mental state more and more with every year.

They meet for the first time when Princes consider sending Eileen to Hogwarts, since they plan to participate both in non-magical and magical wars in the same time, and it's not a good situation for a child to be in. That is the first time there is interest, although it's not deep, mostly growing from that simple fact that Gustav can't use Legilimency on Albus with any effect, and Albus finds it incredibly hard to keep him out with Occlumency, and that at this point usually doesn't happen.

They meet again only after wars end, when Princes are tired and worn out and get snatched by the Ministry for many violations of the Statute of Secrecy. Albus becomes the one to do the interrogation, since Princes are very much skillful at avoiding meaningful convesations, and Gustav is also great at reading people who are desperately trying to read him.

The Ministry makes a deal with Princes that they will work for them with their unique knowledge instead of being sent to Azkaban. It's not something Princes like, but it's better than being locked up.

That how Albus and Gustav get stuck working with each other, and, it appears, Gustav doesn't like Albus' secrecy and refuses to just follow his whims and ideas with no explanations, so for a while they have quite tense relationship, but there is certainly something in between that makes them both feel less hollow, and with time it grows. They infuriate each other, but they also get each other: they share similar pains under masks of confidence, and it appears they can show these parts to each other without rejection.

They start seeing each other, although not without some on and off drama, but it ends faster than both of them expected - with Gustav and his younger sister Magda dying in a very suspicious mission given by the Ministry.

Healing that they managed to give each other doesn't conclude, and leaves new wounds, that Albus shares with the only surviving Princes - the oldest of them Raimund and his daughter Eileen.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I’m wondering what you think the wizarding world’s relation to the royal family is? Because the magical world is so old-fashioned, I’d think they would follow older traditions, with loyalty to the monarchy and not Parliament, even if muggle relations don’t come up much. But at the same time, I can’t imagine the wizarding world would be very happy to follow a Muggle monarch.

I don’t know how the British government works, so I’m mostly BSing. But I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I don't think the modern British wizards have any real connection to the royal family. I think they broke off that connection when the Statute of Secrecy came into play. I'm going to talk a bit about the UK parliament and monarchy, I'm not British nor an expert on the system, so this is based on internet research.

My headcanon is that any wizard family that had Muggle noble titles lost these titles when the Statute of Secrecy was enacted (like the Malfoys). So, I don't think there's still a connection to the crown or the muggle house of lords in any way.

I mean, no one seems to talk about the queen (it was Elizabeth, then) in the books. I couldn't even find one occurrence where she was mentioned offhandedly (unlike the muggle PM, which is mentioned multiple times and actually makes an appearance, which I believe has to do with how the ministry started as, well, a ministry).

It's possible, like with the muggle PM, that the monarch of the UK knows about wizards, but, I find it interesting that Fudge and Scrimgour speak to the muggle PM only. There is no mention of hopping to inform the queen, or something like that. So, I'll say, no. That the royal family in the modern day is not aware of wizards and that wizards don't have any real loyalty to the royal family. That tie was cut when the Statute was enacted.

I can hardly see the blood-purists in canon feeling any loyalty to a muggle.

And it makes sense the wizards won't really need a connection with the crown. In the modern day, the UK has a constitutional monarchy, meaning the monarch's rule is very constrained and limited in the actual policies they can enact (which is none, really, without parliament). The roles of the crown are as follows:

Appointing a government The day after a general election the King invites the leader of the party that won the most seats in the House of Commons to become Prime Minister and to form a government. Opening and dissolving Parliament The Crown opens Parliament through the State Opening (marking the beginning of the Parliamentary year). The Crown also dissolves Parliament before a general election. King's Speech The Crown informs Parliament of the government's policy ideas and plans for new legislation in a speech delivered from the throne in the House of Lords. Although the King makes the speech the government draws up the content. Royal Assent When a Bill has been approved by a majority in the House of Commons and the House of Lords it is formally agreed to by the Crown. This is known as the Royal Assent. This turns a Bill into an Act of Parliament, allowing it to become law in the UK.

(Source: parliament.uk)

Basically, the PM and the parliament are under the direct authority of the monarch officially, but the monarch can't do anything without parliament. The PM is supposed to meet up with the monarch regularly (maybe the wizards assume the PM tells the monarch of anything to do with them that is important enough?). but as you can see above, the monarch mostly just rubber stamps decisions not made by them. I assume the king/queen can suggest things, but they don't really have legal authority to pass laws or appoint anyone on their own. It's a complex system and I'm not an expert, I just did a quick research and that's what I came up with.

Additionally, the Statute was enacted in 1692. This is important because the 17th century (1604-1714) was fraught with revolutions and civil wars in the UK (again, I'm not going into it in detail) — the end result of these various conflicts was new laws limiting the rule of the monarch and giving the parliament more authority. It means the Ministry of Magic, founded in 1707 with these movements going on in Britain at the time. I think the ministry made a point of not being involved with the monarch and being part of parliament.

According to a W.O.M.B.A.T question from JKR's old site, there were tensions between the ministry and the monarchy early on:

1. In your opinion, which of the following contributed MOST to the introduction of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692? Choose ONE. a. widespread persecution of wizarding children by Muggles b. escalating attempts by Muggles to force witches and wizards to perform magic for Muggle ends c. escalating attempts by Muggles to force witches and wizards to teach them magic d. increasing numbers of witch-burnings e. increasing numbers of Muggles being burned in mistake for witches f. failure of Ministry of Magic Delegation to Muggle King and Queen (William and Mary) begging for protection under Muggle law

(The ministry was founded after the Statute, so a delegation from the ministry couldn't have gone to William and Mary before the Statute of Secrecy, so it's not the correct answer to this question, but it feels too specific to not be something that happened. Just, at a later date)

The date of 1707 is actually really interesting for the history of parliament in the UK:

The Acts of Union, passed by the English and Scottish Parliaments in 1707, led to the creation of a united kingdom to be called “Great Britain” on 1 May of that year. The UK Parliament met for the first time in October 1707.

(Source: parliament.uk)

So the Ministry of Magic was founded alongside a restructure of the parliaments of England and Scotland into a singular entity. Which, again, leads me to think of the ministry as subservient to the parliament and not the monarchy (at least not directly, the parliament is still sorta under the monarch's authority but also not really).

The point in all of this is no, I don't think the wizards are loyal to the queen. I don't think they are particularly loyal to the UK parliament either, at least, by the modern day. They started as a ministry that is part of parliament, and probably early ministers had more contact with the muggle PM until that faded out (likely quickly due to the Statute of Secrecy). The Ministry of Magic, by the time we see it is a separate government entity that is part of the UK government only by name. The direct authority of the muggle PM over the Minister of Magic is only on paper. The connection is historical and has no bearing on what happens in practice. The PM/monarch doesn't actually have any authority over the Wizarding World. Sure, on paper, the Minister of Magic is supposed to answer to the PM, who "answers" to the monarch. But the Minister of Magic only informs the PM of things because it's protocol, not because anything the PM says would actually affect anything.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think the Statue of Secrecy in the Harry Potter books should be broken?

I mean, that's an interesting question, and not one I'm sure I (or anyone else for that matter) is qualified to answer. It's sort of like asking "should a large and fundamental part of a culture change". It can change, and there'd be fallout from that, and the result would be something entirely different.

What I will say is the statute of secrecy, at least as we see it in Britain, sets up a potentially dangerous state of affairs for a civilization and especially one that is insistent on remaining ignorant of its neighbors.

There's a technical term for this that I'm completely forgetting at the moment but the idea is that if you have an extremely small civilization, in which there is also extreme isolation, then that civilization's technology not only tends not to progress but also regresses. This is a matter of population and knowledge being lost (you don't necessarily have 1-1 replacement for skills and techniques to retain what the civilization knows) and difficulty in innovating for similar reasons.

Now, wizarding Britain isn't quite this, and that's because we have Half-bloods and Muggle-borns. The population is ridiculously small, with Harry's class in Hogwarts being around ~30 total and no matter how JKR tries to convince me there's thousands at Hogwarts we only seem to see 100s if we're being generous, and the "pure" wizarding families being even smaller (~30 families many of which have died out). But we also get a few Muggle-borns every year and we get Half-bloods from magical people marrying Muggles either directly or those who came from Muggles two generations or less ago. We see technology transferred in from the Muggle world and accepted at large in the train for the Hogwarts Express, the Knight Bus, cameras, and radios.

There is technological transfer as well as some diversity in genetics.

The problem comes in that the wizarding world by isolating itself is incredibly vulnerable to diseases (dragon pox is noted as basically having wiped out Harry's grandparent's generation) and conflict (Voldemort's responsible for the ending of several cornerstone family lines). One bad famine, war, and epidemic could end the wizarding world the way it is now.

As it is, they may already be at a breaking point and not realize it, if enough of the families died out. (The Weasleys can't supply 3/4 of the population and you have to have someone there already to teach Muggle-borns magic in the first place).

There's also the issue that by isolating themselves so strictly the wizards have no idea how Muggles work or the state of the Muggle world. Arthur is painted as the best we see and he's offensively bad, it's a common gag how little he understands about the Muggle world as a Pureblood wizard. While people like Hermione and Harry are better, they also stopped their Muggle schooling at 11 and both spend as much time in the wizarding world as they can even during the few times they're sent back to the Muggle world. This is especially dangerous as Harry and Hermione think they understand the Muggle world extremely well, and while they're better than Ron, they're not the same as someone who is a Muggle, especially after they become adult wizards and have no reason to interact with the Muggle world anymore.

So we get a superficial understanding of Muggle technology (they know certain things exist, especially obvious physical devices, but their solution to making them work is to enchant them to float and they think they've got it) and basically 0 understanding of anything else.

We do see some crossover in that the Prime Minister has a direct line to the Minister of Magic, but we also see that it's a "you don't call us, we'll call you" type relationship in that the Prime Minister has been trying for ages to figure out what the fuck is going on when Fudge and Scrigemore finally show up and go "Oh, yeah, there's a changeover and we have a terrorist back who's going to fuck your shit up. Sorry". It's very clearly a position meant to shut the Muggles up and have their aid when the wizarding world needs something from them, not the other way around, which is bad relations (seen in canon, the PM was not a fan) and also makes it clear that the wizards don't care what the Muggles do or what they're up to so long as they do it off their lawn.

And that means... well, things could get spicy without the wizarding world having any means of warning.

Not to mention, of course, that it's barely being kept in place. We have canonical villages of obliviated people who act a little funny in the head because the wizards didn't want to move/wanted to feel progressive by living with Muggles. We have Harry alone causing a number of incidents such as flying a car over half the country with the obliviators then having to obliviate said half of the country. We have Muggle-borns popping up with the Ministry seeming to have no means of keeping track of them without the Hogwarts letter. We have a complete lack of understanding of recent Muggle technology (guys, a very small percentage of people actually understand how computers work, how information is stored, how it's replicated across the web, don't tell me that someone with a primary education up to age 11 understands all the nuance of computers. You may get one or two, but it's not going to be many and they're probably not going to have Ministry jobs because they're going to probably be Muggle-born and maybe, maybe, Half-blood).

So, basically, I think the statute of secrecy is unsustainable. They're rolling dice keeping it in place and one of those days they're going to roll for something that will not allow it to hold.

Does that mean it should be torn down?

Again, that's that "should" thing we got into at first, things would change, it'd get very messy and very ugly, but it's a change and not something I can really ascribe morality to one way or another. It just is.

[waywardxrhea]

Part of Your World - George Weasley

Chapter 15

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Muggle!reader

installment list / previous chapter / next chapter

word count: 5,259

content: tooth rotting fluff, cheeky comments, happy (and sad) tears, heavy emotions, mentions of lost family and friends. oh, did i mention FLUFF??

a/n: a few things before we get started! yes, hi, hello, i'm back from the depths of bachelor's degree hell! my university got hacked! so, when they got things back up and running, what was supposed to be a five week course got compressed into three weeks! because of that, i had thirteen (lengthy) assignments due in fifteen days and it was utter insanity! (i literally spent 7 hours at a local coffee shop doing one and a quarter of the assignments😭) so, while, yes, i did have two of the chapters scheduled, this one is a special one that i wanted to give the time and attention it deserves to make sure it's of quality for you guys!

with that being said! up until now this story was pretty plot driven for the most part, but now we dive into slice of life after the war! these chapters were some of my favorite to write, and i hope they're fun to read! so without any further ado, enjoy the chapter!

After a year of planning not only your wedding but how to ensure that the Statute of Secrecy wouldn’t be broken during the celebration, the big day had finally arrived! As you stirred awake on that chilly Christmas morning in the bed across from Ginny’s, you heard a knock on the door followed by George’s voice saying, “Morning, I thought I would bring you a cuppa. Your favourite,” as the door began to creak open. 

“Don’t open that door!” Ginny scolded him as she shot up from her sleep and flicked her wand at the door, slamming it shut in George’s face and locking it.

“I was just-” George tried but was interrupted by Ginny.

“Leave the tea at the door if you must, but you aren’t seeing her until this afternoon!” 

You gingerly stood up from your spot in bed and put your hand up to the wooden door as you gently reminded George, “Tradition, remember? The bride and groom can’t see each other until the ceremony, love.”

“If I’m not allowed to kiss you until then, when the time comes I may have to-”

“Shut it!” Ginny shouted with a laugh, covering her ears before she could hear George finish the rest of his sentence.

When he finally relented and left the tea on the floor outside the door, you retrieved it before being told by Ginny, “You two are disgustingly smitten.”

“I could say the same about you and Harry,” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows, a smirk teasing your lips. 

“Don’t make me hex you,” Ginny told you, laughing all the while. 

“You wouldn’t do that to the bride on her big day would you?” you asked as you laughed along. 

“The day we’ve been waiting for, for so long!” came the excited voice of Jasmine as she and Abbie made their appearance into Ginny’s room. 

“Thank you for showing us where to go Mrs. Weasley,” Abbie told Molly politely before the four of you began to get settled into Ginny’s room to start getting ready for the ceremony. 

“Ooh you like Little Mix too Ginny?!” Jaz asked as she took in her surroundings. She was referring to Ginny’s poster of the Holyhead Harpies that had been changed to look like one of the UK’s biggest girl bands of the new century. 

That wasn’t the only change that had been made within the Burrow, though. They of course had to cast freezing spells on every picture they had in the home that was usually moving because of the magical development, and Molly had made sure to perform any sort of magical cleaning and cooking before any Muggle guests were set to arrive. The talk about where to hold the wedding had been up in the air for weeks, tossing between having it at a Muggle location or at the Burrow. In the end it was decided that the Burrow would be easiest for not only the space, but also because if someone slipped up and used magic around the Muggles, it would be easier to whip out a wand and modify memories without having to worry about Muggle technology capturing it. 

“Oh yes, Woman’s World off of their new album is my favourite,” Ginny replied, giving you a grateful glance for the Muggle music you two had been listening to together over the last few weeks leading up to the wedding since she went on Christmas break from Hogwarts. 

“Amen to that sister!” Jasmine said, nodding as she lugged her bag off of her shoulder and onto the floor with a thud. 

“What on Earth do you have in there?” you asked, eyeing the bag with raised eyebrows. 

“I couldn’t decide on what colour heels to wear!” she replied sheepishly as she unzipped the bag and revealed a variety of different heels, all of which matched the wedding’s colour scheme. As she dug through the bag with Abbie, she sighed and said, “I wish I could like…magically change the colour of these shoes to be like these ones because they're my favourite but they didn’t come in this colour…”

While Abbie and Jasmine weren’t looking, you and Ginny sent each other a look before silently darting your eyes toward the pairs of shoes before raising your eyebrows in question. Ginny shrugged and nodded, so you distracted Abbie and Jasmine by asking, “Hey, remind me what alterations you two made to your dresses! I haven’t seen them since they got taken in!”

When they were both consumed with showing you their dresses, Ginny slipped her wand out from its hiding place under her bed frame and cast a quick spell that changed the colour of Jasmine’s preferred heels to the sparkling silver of the other pair. Once the spell was complete, Ginny grabbed them and pretended she was digging around behind her bed before saying, “Oh, hey Jasmine, I think I may actually have a pair like that.”

“You’re kidding!” Jasmine exclaimed with an excited squeal as she turned around to see the pair of heels in Ginny’s hands. “They’re gorgeous!” she breathed, the sparkle in her eye matching the shimmering shoes. 

“They’re all yours, I wasn’t planning on wearing them,” Ginny replied. 

“Brilliant!” Jasmine gushed, a wide smile on her face. 

Abbie clapped her hands together and nodded, saying, “Now that that is in order, I believe it’s time for hair?” 

The three others agreed and while you all worked together to do each other’s hair, there was a knock at the door, this time followed by Molly’s voice saying, “Girls, whenever you have time I whipped up something for breakfast for the bridal party!” She said your name to get your attention and said, “Your mum just arrived and she wants to see you. I sent all the boys into the village to get some last minute odds and ends, so no worries about George seeing you before the ceremony.”

“Sounds great, we’ll be out in just a minute!” you replied as Abbie began curling the last bit of your hair and sprayed it with glitter and hairspray so it would keep its shape. As you looked in the mirror at the simple yet elegant half up half down braided hair style with loose curls, you smiled softly at Abbie before telling her, “Thank you Abs, it looks amazing.”

“You look amazing!” Abbie replied while squeezing your shoulders lightly. The four of you, all now with your hair dolled up, stood and began walking from the room as Abbie said, “I know for a while I gave you a hard time about this relationship, but I really am glad you found George. He’s good for you, I know that now.”

“Only took seeing that he was committed to her even with an ocean between them,” Jasmine said with a scoff and a playful roll of her eyes. 

In order to alleviate some awkward questions when Arthur fixed your friends’ memories, he made it to where they all remembered you and George staying together while your family was in New York. It just seemed like the easiest solution and was even approved by Percy, after a little convincing from George and Arthur. 

When the four of you emerged into the living area of the Burrow, you found your mum and Molly fussing over frilly finger foods, making sure they were all placed just so before your mum snapped a picture with her camera that she and Arthur had worked on to ensure that it would work in the presence of magic for the wedding. Molly was first to see you all and a tearful look made its way onto her face as she whispered, “Oh, you all look so beautiful!”

Your mum lowered her camera and let it dangle from its strap as she smiled at you, holding out her arms and motioning for you to join her in a hug. “I’m so happy for you, sweet girl,” she whispered, clearly struggling to keep her voice steady. 

“Thank you, Mum,” you whispered, your own voice breaking with emotion. 

The pair of you separated before you all began to dig into the assortment of food, piling the hors d’oeuvres onto tiny plates before you all headed out and into the wedding tent so you could take it in before the guests began showing up for the ceremony. A shiver took over your body as you walked toward the tent, your white silk bridal pyjamas not providing much warmth. When you all emerged into the tent though, a warmth filled your entire body, not only because of the enchantments that had been placed on the tent to allow total warmth during the ceremony and reception, but because of the emotions beginning to flood your body.

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes once more as you took in the space. It looked like a beautiful winter wonderland with barren white trees lining the burgundy carpeted aisle. The trees had the occasional piece of mistletoe garnishing the branches surrounded by shimmering stars and floating candles. You began a slow walk up the aisle, running your fingers over the sage coloured ribbon lining where the chairs sat in neat rows. When you got to the arch under which you would soon be getting married, you ran your hand through the strands of fairy lights coming down from the arch and smiled at the beauty of the ceremony space. Looking over at where the others were wandering toward the dance floor on the other side of the tent, you took in the subtle hints of gold and silver throughout the space, getting lost in your thoughts of picturing your first dance with George as husband and wife. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” came your mum’s voice which made you jump slightly at the sudden intrusion of your headspace. 

“Just happy,” you replied, a soft smile forming on your lips as you turned your attention toward your mother. You took a deep breath and let it out shakily before saying, “I wish Gran was here to see it.”

“Me too honey,” your mum replied solemnly. She took your hand in hers, and when she let go you felt something inside, so you turned your palm upward and examined what she had given you. “Maybe with this you can feel like she’s with you.”

“Is this…?” you asked breathlessly, examining the beautiful silver necklace.

“Gran’s that she wore in her wedding to Gramps, yep,” your mum confirmed. 

“It's beautiful…” you whispered, immediately going to put it on with slightly shaking hands. 

“She always wanted you to have it for the wedding she just knew you’d have one day,” she told you. 

“If it wasn’t for the optimism she taught me to have, then I don’t think I’d be getting married today,” you said. “At first, after Evan, I was planning on just focusing on my studies, but then I remembered that she always told me to have a little faith in the world, and I did. And what would you know, that was the day I met George.”

“And the rest is history,” your mum said. She cleared her throat and squeezed your hand before walking off, telling you, “I’m going to go grab the photos for the memory table. You and the girls should finish getting ready, the ceremony starts in three hours!”

Two of those hours had passed, and you were finally in your dress, heading back into Ginny’s room to have your makeup touched up by Jasmine, when you heard someone around the corner softly crying. “Merlin, I wish you were here, Freddie,” you heard George whisper and you practically felt your heart shatter for him. You had been so busy in the lead up to the wedding you had forgotten how hard it must be for George to be doing this without his twin…

“George, dear?” you asked quietly as you pressed yourself against the wall around the corner from him. 

George cleared his throat and said your name in a question before saying, “I thought you said it was bad luck to see each other before the ceremony.”

A sad smile made its way onto your face as you told him, “We don’t have to see each other, but right now I know you need someone. Close your eyes. I'm giving you a hug.” 

“All right, they’re closed,” George told you. 

Just to make sure, you peeked around the corner and were satisfied when you found him with his eyes closed tight. As you wrapped your arms around George, he quickly accepted the embrace and his body shook slightly as his emotions began to overtake his body. “I’m right here, let it out,” you told him softly as you ran one hand up and down his back, relishing the feel of his velvet dress robes. 

“I just miss him so much… We always had plans of what we were going to say at each other’s wedding but now…” George’s voice broke at the end of his sentence and he couldn’t finish as fresh tears began to spill from his eyes. 

You simply nodded and pulled him impossibly closer in your attempt to comfort him. After a few more moments you pulled away slightly and rested a hand on his chest, telling him, “He’s always right here. No matter how dark things feel and how long it’s been, Fred will always have a place in your heart. No one can take that away from you, love.”

“How is it you always know the right thing to say?” George asked, a small smile slipping onto his lips as he pulled you close once more. 

He pulled away and tried to lean in for a kiss, but you turned your head and redirected him to plant it directly on your cheek. “Ah, ah, save it for the altar, Weasley,” you told him teasingly.

“Next time I kiss you, you’ll be a Weasley too,” he told you as you began to pull away and round the corner again, your hand still in his as you began your departure. 

“I can’t wait,” you replied, squeezing his hand before slipping away up the stairs to Ginny’s room for the final touches to your look for the ceremony. 

Before you knew it, you were making your way through the Burrow’s snow laden garden toward the wedding tent that was filled with friends and family: Muggle and magical alike. “You ready?” Abbie asked as the music began to swell once more indicating that it was time for the wedding party to make their way into the ceremony space. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, letting out a deep breath as Jasmine opened the flap of the tent and began walking down the aisle, her arm hooked in Charlie’s. 

“Oh don’t be nervous, it’s just George!” Ginny teased as she hooked her arm in Lee’s as the pair made their way into the tent. 

“You look beautiful, I can’t wait for his reaction when he sees you,” Abbie said, quickly dabbing a tear from her eye with the handkerchief Percy offered her before they too made their way into the tent. 

“You ready?” came the voice of your father as he approached from behind, adjusting his tie as he did. 

“Are you ready?” you asked, your throat suddenly tight as the reality of everything began to hit you once again. 

“As I’ll ever be for my baby to get married,” your dad replied, holding his arm out for you to grab before he opened the flap of the tent and began escorting you down the aisle. “All eyes on you,” he added when the guests all stood and craned their necks to get a glimpse at you in your gorgeous dress. It was honestly a sight to be seen, with the pure white tulle skirt with matching sleeves and bodice made up of beautiful white embroidered flowers. Even with all of the guests' eyes on you though, you only had eyes for George, who had a wide smile on his face as he drank in your appearance as you approached him at the altar.

When you and your dad reached the altar, he and George shook hands before you took George’s hands in yours as you stood across from him. “Don’t you look stunning?” George asked quietly. 

“Speak for yourself, handsome,” you flirted back, George’s glance down at your painted lips not going unnoticed. 

The officiate standing behind the cascading fairy lights of the wedding arch emerged and cleared his throat before he began speaking. This caught your attention and you noticed that it wasn’t just any man, it was Kingsley Shacklebolt - Order of the Phoenix member and the current Minister of Magic! You sent George a look that said, "Since when was Kingsley our officiate?!” to which he responded quietly, “The other guy bailed last minute.”

The deep voice of Kingsley projected over the space as he began speaking. “Friends and family, we have gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two souls. Believe me when I say that these two have been through a lot together. They have faced ups and downs and had a fair share of laughs along the way.” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, eh?” George asked, a cheeky grin on his lips as the guests laughed quietly. 

“Never a dull moment with you,” Kingsley agreed with a chuckle. “I believe the two of you wrote your own vows?”

“That we did,” you confirmed with a nod. 

“Wonderful. George, you go first,” Kingsley said and took a step back to give the pair of you some space. 

George nodded and cleared his throat, squeezing your hands gently before saying, “This is going to sound cliche, but I never used to believe in that love at first sight rubbish until the first time I saw you. From the moment I saw you playing your guitar, looking like an absolute dream, I knew you were the one for me. And boy was that intuition right. To say we’ve been through a lot together is an understatement, and I know that if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have had the strength to get through the hard parts. I can genuinely say that you’re my rock and that you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. No matter how many times I mess up, you listen and forgive me, even when I make an arse of myself. You put up with my endless pranks and laugh at my stupid jokes no matter how many times I tell them, and you’re always there for me when I just need a cry, and for that I am eternally grateful. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you and I am so bloody excited to see where the rest of our journey takes us.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the words sunk in - they made you more emotional than you originally anticipated. After letting out an unsteady breath, you opened your eyes and were met with George’s gentle and sincere ones. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you said, “George. ‘Til the moment I found you I thought I knew what love was. Now I’m learning what is true - that love will do what it does.’ I love you will never be able to capture how I feel about you, because it’s that and more. You are one of the bravest, kindest, and most selfless people I have ever met. You stick up for me against even your own family, you are always there when I need you, and you’ve made so many sacrifices for our relationship that I never would have had the strength to. You’re there after every audition, every call back, and every tiring theatre clinic. Even when I am probably insufferable. ‘It’s like catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you. It’s one in a million, the chances of feeling the way we do.’ I love doing life with you and I can’t wait to discover all of the amazing things we haven’t done together yet. If that means travelling, or expanding your business, or eventually starting a family together I’m all in. I know that with you I will never be bored and there will always be someone in my corner to cheer me up and to give me a good laugh when I need it. I love you.” As you ended your vows, both you and George were fighting back tears as you gazed at each other lovingly.

“That was beautiful you two,” Kingsley said as he stepped forward once more. He turned toward Charlie and asked, “Do you have the rings, young man?”

“Yes sir,” Charlie replied, pulling the set out from his pocket and presenting them to the Minister. 

Kingsley handed the rings to you and George, and you began, slipping the ring onto George’s left hand as you said, “With this ring I take you to be my husband. Through sickness and health, through trials and wealth I will be there for you no matter what. As long as I shall live, I will be loving you.”

George smiled as he in turn slipped the wedding band onto your finger as he repeated, “With this ring I take you to be my wife. Through sickness and health, through trials and wealth I will be there for you no matter what. As long as I shall live, I will be loving you.”

“Then by the power vested in me I declare you husband and wife,” Kingsley pronounced with a clap of his hands. 

When he clapped his hands George leaned in to kiss you with all of the passion and desire that he hadn’t been able to in the last few hours. As he did, a shower of tiny shimmering stars began raining down around the two of you, courtesy of some wandless magic by Kingsley. In order to cover up the magical feat, from his spot in the crowd, your dad made a big deal about displaying a remote control that "controlled" the contraption that had supposedly been holding the glitter above you and George. 

For a moment you pulled away and rested your forehead on George’s as you mumbled, “Well, hello there Mr. Weasley.”

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” George replied before wrapping you in his arms and dipping you as he kissed you once more. This gesture earned a wolf whistle from Lee and a few laughs from the crowd as they applauded the newlyweds. 

Once George pulled away from your kiss and you both straightened back up, he took your hand in his as you both began making your way back down the aisle and toward the golden dance floor across the tent. As you two made your way there with guests following behind, you took a few of the roses out of your bouquet and placed them on the memory table that housed pictures of those you both had lost before the union: Fred, Gran, Sirius Black, Remus and Tonks, along with other various family members that both sets of parents felt should be honoured as well. The table was beautiful and you gave George’s hand a squeeze once more to comfort him before you both continued the walk to the dance floor. 

When you two got to the dance floor, your mum’s voice called out over the crowd, “Everyone! Welcome for the first dance of Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley!” You and George smiled at your friends and family as your mum continued, announcing, “Good evening everyone! I’m the mother of the bride, and this is my band Opposition Lies! We’re going to kick off the night with the bride and groom’s first dance to Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley! This song played at the wedding of the bride’s Gran, mine and my husband’s wedding, and now at hers! You kids enjoy, we love you!”

So as the opening to the song began to be played, George placed his hands around your waist and you rested yours on his shoulders. You both instantly got lost in one another’s eyes as your parents began harmonising to their version of the love song. You both swayed to the steady rhythm while your minds began to run through the milestones of your time together. When the second verse kicked in, George began to sweep you across the floor, occasionally spinning or dipping you before pulling you into chaste kisses that left you giggling like a school-girl. The song began to close out before you knew it, and as the band began to fade away, George pulled you into his chest as he mumbled sweet nothings into your ear. 

After you parted, it was time for the father-daughter and mother-son dances. You and your dad danced to My Girl by The Temptations, the both of you laughing the whole time as he fumbled through the dance despite how many times you had rehearsed it before the ceremony. When it was time for George and Molly’s dance, for the sake of ensuring the Muggles didn’t get suspicious about any magic oriented songs, they chose a Muggle song too, one called Letter to my Mother by Edwin McCain which of course ended with Molly in tears as she held her son tight. 

Once the three dances were over and the guests began to step onto the dance floor to the upbeat rock that Opposition Lies began to play, an older woman made her way over as you and George grabbed a mug of Butterbeer each. She smiled warmly at you two before saying, “I must say Mr. Weasley, I’m quite impressed that you remembered any of the dance lessons I gave you in school.”

George laughed brightly before telling her, “Well Professor, I couldn’t exactly show up to my wedding behaving as… How’d you put it? A babbling, bumbling baboon?”

She chuckled lightly as she nodded, telling you, “This one never quite paid attention to my rules at Hogwarts, but I see he remembers the Yule Ball dance lessons quite vividly.”

“That seems to be a trend of how the staff at the school viewed him,” you told her with a laugh as you gently nudged George in the ribs. “You must be Professor McGonagall. George speaks very highly of you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, a small smile on her lips. She tilted her own flute of champagne your way before saying, “Congratulations on the wedding you two. Oh and by the way, Hagrid sends his congratulations as well. He was planning on coming, but they needed him on the school grounds for the holiday.”

“Thank you for coming, Professor! And give Hagrid our thanks!” George told her. After she left, he turned to you and said, “McGonagall’s got the right idea with the champagne, let’s go find some of that.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” you agreed, linking your arm in his as you both began making your way to the table where the drinks were set up. 

On the way there, you two stopped to talk with Abbie and her boyfriend Thomas, who were chatting with a group of other students from your acting troupe back in London. Like a magnet, Lee had found himself gravitating toward the high energy group of students with Angelina by his side. Even though the pair were visibly struggling to keep up with all of the Muggle talk, with you and George there for help, they were able to get through the conversation and find some common ground, mostly in discussing sports and the benefits of colour commentary. 

When you and George made it to the table, you were greeted by Bill and Fleur, the former of which gave George a hearty hug in congratulations. Fleur, who had finally started to warm up to you in the last few months leaned in and kissed both of your cheeks before telling you, “You look stunning!”

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you,” you replied, slightly shocked by the comment coming from a Veela who prided herself on beauty and grace. 

As George took two flutes of the bubbling beverage from the table, he quipped, “We appreciate the authentic champagne for the occasion, but I definitely hope you haven’t been partaking, Fleur.”

“Most certainly not,” Fleur replied with a light chuckle, one of her hands landing on her growing belly and rubbing it gently. “This little one will have to wait to taste champagne until they are older.”

“Good call, and thank you again!” you told her, smiling warmly at the blonde.

“Congratulations you two,” Bill said as he toasted you with a glass he grabbed from the table, sending you both a nod of his head as you and George headed off arm-in-arm once more.

After dancing to a few songs on the dance floor and encouraging the guests to join you two, it was time for more festivities. With a gaggle of guests behind you, you tossed your bouquet backward toward them and it landed gently in the hands of none other than Luna Lovegood. As the small crowd dispersed, George threw his arm around the blonde’s date, Neville Longbottom, and said, “Well mate, looks like you two are next!”

“Looks like,” Neville said with a chuckle and a sparkle in his eye as he watched Luna talking animatedly with you about the different types of flowers in the bouquet and the benefits of each one in a wedding. 

Then it was time for cake, made of course by Molly who had disappeared in the early goings of the reception to magically prepare it inside the Burrow’s kitchen and away from prying Muggle eyes. After she and Arthur placed it on the refreshment table in the tent, the latter called out for the guests to hear, “Ladies and gentlemen it’s time for cake!”

You and George cut the first pieces together and naturally George decided to smash a bit of your piece onto your face like he had seen in so many Muggle wedding videos you two watched in preparation for the event. In retaliation, you smeared frosting on George’s face as well, and neither of you could contain your laughter as you both stood there with cake covering your faces. Rather than getting in a huff over it like some women out there in the aforementioned wedding videos, you took the prank in stride and silently thanked Ginny for the charms she had cast on your dress and makeup that repelled the cake and frosting and left your makeup and dress as perfect as they were before. 

As the afternoon wound on and became closer to evening, guests began to clear out to spend time with their families on the holiday. Before the band could wrap up though, you requested one more song that signalled all of the remaining couples onto the dance floor for one more slow dance. You and George held each other close as you spun around the dance floor, making your way around the pairs of Ron and Hermione as well as Ginny and Harry. When you signalled for your mum and dad to take the floor, their drummer, bass player, and keyboard player continued on as the couple joined in followed shortly by Molly and Arthur. While the couples danced, you looked around at everyone and smiled, in complete bliss on the happiest day of your life in George’s arms.

a/n: ha! as i was going into my doc to copy the chapter to put in here, i realized that there are in fact more than 19 chapters! i had originally not counted the earlier small installments as chapters, and i guess i forgot to relabel! so! we have more chapters than originally advertised! which is great! but sucks only because i thought i accidentally did something amazing by ending it on "chapter 19 years later" oh well! more content for you guys!

brooke’s chapter commentary: i tend to somehow manage to find a way to sneak in leanna firestone lyrics into a lot of my works, and im kinda impressed with myself for it🤣 you guys didn't think you'd get a cute wedding chapter without a depressing lost twin moment, did you? who do you think i am? i love the angst! the high school musical reference too?? you guys, i looked at musical lyrics for SO LONG for this, and i changed it a million and one times before finally settling on Something to Believe in and Can I Have This Dance. ahh! their first dance makes me so giddy, i love them so much! yes, i HAD to include Neville and Luna as a couple in this because they are my Harry Potter OTP, don't come at me! eee! George and Reader are married!!

like i said before, this was such an important chapter to me, and it was so fun to write! i hope you all love it as much as i do! as always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated!

until next time! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @v1ckycheesue @superduckmilkshake @5starl1ght @will0wlovests @reidmarieprentiss

ps: i think it's hilarious how i dreaded writing 4 page research papers over the last few weeks, but this chapter alone takes up 20 pages on the google doc IN A SMALLER FONT!

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 30

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet you encourage me.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do, Professor,” Sirius throws his head back, stretches the tendons of his neck. Something in Remus says bite and he’d like to pretend it’s the moon phase, but he knows it’s more - it’s the hex he cast at a muggle (Statute of Secrecy be damned), it’s the dreams he still has of the jail guard, the steady collapse of the self control he’s spent all his life clinging to. Every silly trip to the market he can’t help but agree to, and every cup of tea he makes without being asked. It’s Ziggy, and the Potters’ owl, and the knowledge he’d let any other animal stay, too, if Sirius were to ask.

He wants to bite the way wolves do, not for dominance but for ownership. He doesn’t think Sirius is something to be owned, though, too wild and too unpredictable, and too beautiful in it to bear containing. Remus wouldn’t want to try, not even if whatever it is that he feels was to be accepted, returned to him.

Beloved of my heart, he thinks, of course it had to be you.

“The buildup of curses on this thing… it must have taken years to complete,” Sirius is contemplative, quiet, “they must have really loved the intended.”

“Would appear so. I wonder what it’s protecting.”

“Must be something to help with the lycanthropy. To ease the transition, maybe? They speak of the body, here,” he points to Remus’ translation, “I’ve heard its… well, I’ve heard its difficult.”

Remus doesn’t mean to sound bitter as he laughs, but difficult is such an understatement, it bubbles out of him by itself. Sirius looks contrite, mouths an apology.

“No, don’t. Don’t apologise. There is no need for you to know.”

“There is now. So, I’d like to. If you’re willing to tell.”

Remus looks at him – looks at him – Sirius’ expression is open and waiting. Like he’d asked about a bad day or an unfortunate trip, not about this. Even Remus’ mum didn’t ask, not so openly. In different ways, yes, in cups of tea and charmed-hot blankets, but not with words unfaltering and eyes unafraid.

“Have you ever broken a bone?”

Sirius pulls up the bottom of his shirt where a thin white line runs over the hipbone.

“It’s like that, just… everywhere and all at once. The transformation is only minutes, doesn’t leave a permanent mark. That’s all down to how the wolf is feeling on the night.”

“It hurts you?”

“Hurts itself. Gets bored, I think. Looks for something. Misses… I don’t know,” Remus hedges, “I don’t remember much, just snippets here and there. It’s not me in there, not really.”

Sirius turns to the replica scroll, touches the line of hieroglyphs where it calls the werewolf by endearments. “They really must have loved them.”

“Maybe. Not a good life, that.”

It’s an offhand comment. Remus doesn’t even really register what he says, already looking down to his translation to try and work out the rest of the riddle.

“What do you mean by that?” it’s the sharpest he’s heard Sirius’ voice. Something almost aristocratic, the kind of voice that could send people to their deaths.

“Loving a werewolf,” Remus speaks slowly, unsure of where he’d gone wrong, “it’s not something I’d wish on anyone.”

“Remus, I know you to be a very smart man. Don’t make me rethink that stance.”

It’s absurd, and Remus laughs, but Sirius is stuck in that space of haughty stillness.

“It’s alright, Sirius. Like you said, you don’t know about this. You never had a need to and now you only do on account of the work we’re doing. Don’t worry about it.”

The air crackles, just a little, Sirius’ hair raising at the ends like from an electric storm. Remus doesn’t want to have to deal with cleaning up the office again, not the day before the full moon.

“Sirius. Please, calm down. I’m tired, you’re tired. Let’s drop this and go home, alright?”

At first, it makes it worse. Remus can taste the magic like an iron bar in his mouth. Then, Sirius forces a breath, then another, and the air calms down.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need.”

“Just, hearing you talk about yourself like that…” Sirius looks straight at him, through him, “you’re a wonderful man, Remus. No matter what happens a night of a month, no matter even if it were every day.”

“Sure, Sirius,” he says, because it’s a nice notion, and Sirius doesn’t know any better. “Thank you for saying that.”

It’s clear that Sirius knows he’s lying – he always knows – but he doesn’t say anything more. There’s something like hurt around the edges of his mouth.

They venture out into the library, split up between shelves. It reminds Remus of being at university and he wonders how it would have been, had they met there, had Remus not been what he is – just two students going about their days, meeting across a bookshelf or maybe reaching for the same tome. How Sirius would have looked like, just a little younger but without the weariness of prison. If he was wilder yet, or instead maybe more cautious, before that caution had run out.

NEXT PART

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[epickiya722]

I do have this one thought about the last chapter that I honestly debated on even sharing.

It felt like just another "day on the job" to me.

I recall how it has been stated in the manga that "jujutsu sorcerers aren't heroes". Heroes get praises. Jujutsu sorcerers do not.

They have to work in the shadows. People can't know the existence of Curses and if so that leads to chaos.

Jujutsu sorcerers work in secrecy so of course there wasn't going to be statutes or confetti. Being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't something to be celebrated. It's a job that has to be done but those who can't handle it. That's it.

I feel like that's what the last 3 chapters were meant for. To remind the audience that being a jujutsu sorcerer is still just a job. It's not a competition. It's not a job for praise and fame. It's a job where adults and children are exploited to risk their lives for people who don't even know they exist unless otherwise.

Hell, they're JJK's Men in Black.

They don't fight aliens, they fight curses and don't have a small device to erase memories.

On that note, pertaining to Gojo, I have seen people said that the other characters apparently didn't give a shit about him and the last chapter confirms it and all that jazz...

That is false.

For one, yeah, we didn't get a funeral for Gojo, but something tells me it's because the other characters couldn't have a personal one for him. You can't tell me the Gojo clan didn't allow a funeral for him.

Two, just because Gojo wasn't mentioned after 269, that doesn't mean he will be forgotten by the others.

The last chapter actually proves that.

Yuji has a whole flashback about the conversation he had with Gojo and recalls the words he said to him. And what does he do? Passes on those same words to someone else he saw needed a little bit of guidance. Even in death, Gojo is still teaching his students.

Let's not forget that also because of Gojo being Gojo, we got this precious smile.

It's not that the other characters don't care for him, especially his students, it just feels that way because of the harshness of being a jujutsu sorcerer overshadows that.

They don't have the room to connect and feel like people. It's not a luxury for them and even if it was, it's taken away.

They don't get to have true human moments. That the cost they pay for other humans to have them.

The only character that really shown some annoyance towards Gojo was Kusakabe. Other than that, no other character really had actually disdain for Gojo or was happy he was dead.

They all believed he was capable of beating Sukuna and when he died, they were horrified.

"But what about his body being used as a tool?"

Again, that's the harshness of being in jujutsu society. It's not like any of them was actually happy about it. Yuta damn sure wasn't and Shoko probably held back tears even switching their brains because Gojo was still her friend.

However, Gojo's death was his happiness. Cruel that he died that way, trust me I couldn't get that image out my head for DAYS. But, seeing him smile in the afterlife I was fine with that because he found happiness.

Besides, Gojo wouldn't want his students or anyone to beat themselves up and mope for days on end over him just as he did over Geto. They wouldn't want him to repeat his mistake.

There's also Gojo's statement on how he thinks that at least one of them would forget him. Yuji protests this saying he wouldn't (knowing Yuji, he won't). In the fan translation, Yuji goes "None of us could ever forget you".

Maybe that's what Gojo wants though. Not in a way where they discard his existence, but in a way that his legacy overshadows what his students could do before they can even get started.

Gojo is the type of person who can do anything, but chooses not to because he wants the generation after him to have that chance to be great, to be better.

He rather for them to forget him so they don't look to meet his example and match up to his level. He wants his students to surpass him. Go beyond what he was able to do.

But that's just how I see it. And I actually don't care to debate on it.

Just because someone comes up with "why this is the way it is" doesn't mean they necessarily like or hate the idea of it.

Now, I know some people hate this chapter and others loved it. The way I see it, oh well, it's the finale yadda yadda, people are entitled to their opinions. But the way some of you go about it is crazy to me.

Like going into inboxes with "this chapter was ass, admit it was ass" just makes you look like an ass, hee haw. Like, don't waste your time trying to get people to ride that hate train, IT'S TOO CROWDED ANYWAYS!

And if you don't like seeing people being negative... block them. Skip the posts. Don't reblog their posts to argue. If you want to vent, just write your own posts.