#first harry potter fic

[corynation]

Ink

theo nott x reader

tags : angst, sadness, i love him i promise

His owl to meet him at the astronomy tower wasn’t a worrying moment. His usual “amore mio dolce” greeting melting your heart instantly. Without any fail each time you saw it the same fuzzy feeling in your chest accompanied by the burning of your cheeks arose. His heart at the bottom of the letter sending flutters that coursed throughout your body, pure bliss consuming your brain, leading you to rush to get ready. Throwing on your favorite sweater of his and some leggings you headed out quick, not wanting to keep him waiting for long. Your body perfectly magnetic to him, aching to attach to him, tugging you further and further through the castle as fast as you could.

Theo stood against the railing, looking out amongst the lake. The moonlight casting down on him perfectly. Messy soft curls shining, skin glowing against his white button up. He turned around at the sound of your footsteps, his eyebrows knitting as if he wasn’t expecting company, demeanor instantly softening the moment he saw your smile.

“You sure don’t waste much time.” He grinned, walking towards you and grasping your waist.

“I missed you.” You whispered, arms wrapping around his neck. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I know,” He began, his voice softening in remorse. “I’m sorry cara, my father called me home.”

Your chest tightened. His father didn’t often call him home, and when he did, well it wasn’t for any reason out of love to say the least. A hand fell from his neck to his chest, gently rubbing comforting circles, instinctively knowing he needed it.

“Is everything okay?” Your question was softly asked, not knowing if this was territory that should be touched.

“Of course,” He smiled warmly as his hand caressed your cheek, trying to ease your concerns. But, as always, you saw past the smile, his eyes telling you everything you needed to know. They had been still and cold, sunken into his skin with a purple tinge, his eyelashes stuck together like they had recently been wet. “just some family business. Nothing to worry about.”

“Theo,” You began, trying to push him.

“Hey, don’t worry about it alright? Everything is okay.” He placed a gentle kiss to your lips, holding you so close to him like you were the only thing allowing him to live. Kissing you so deeply as if you were his air. It was intoxicating. Wiping your brain clear, your body becoming warm and tingly.

He pulled away from you slowly, resting his forehead on yours, breathing you in as much as he could. Perfume invading his senses driving him half insane. He held you as close as possible, needing this moment with you needing you.

“I missed you so much.” Theo sighed against your lips. His soul finally able to rest around you.

“I missed you too.” You smiled, grabbing his forearms to pull his hands away from your face.

The further you pushed his arms away the further his cuff fell loose, slowly snaking down his arm. A flash of black on his skin caught your eye, your eyebrows furrowing tightly. Theo hadn’t mentioned a new tattoo, but then again he had been with his father so it very well could’ve been anything other.

“Theo what is-“ A gasp fell from your lips, your grip on his arm collapsing as you got a better look at the mystery ink. Your chest tightened as your heart sped up, basically pounding out of your chest. His eyes met yours with nothing but fear, his body freezing in the moment. The both of you staring at each other like statues across the museum galley from one another, time standing still, the world becoming silent around you.

Theo tugged his shirt cuff down, his hand finding your shoulder with a tight grip. “Y/n its not what you think please.” He pleaded, his eyes beginning to swell.

“Thats a dark mark Theo.” As if it wasn’t obvious. But it was all you could say. Your brain only comprehending the fact of what it was, not what it meant. You couldn’t see past the object, past it being on his skin. Theo’s dark mark. Theo’s dark mark.

You’d never seen one in person before. Never even come near to someone who had been a part of that. Sure you’d come to terms with knowing you were soon to run into one, probably having to fight for yourself. But never in a million of those thoughts did you think the person who you saw the most would have one. The one person who despised the look of it the most.

The sting in your stomach wasn’t from the fact of, but for Theo. God knows how often he thought about the inevitable moment his father would force him to do it. How in the few moments of vulnerability he’d breakdown in your arms, worrying he’d turn out like one of them. That he’d be one of them.

It was one of his biggest fears. Oftenly keeping him up at night, instinctively making him claw at his own skin like a rabid animal. Feeling as if he didn’t belong in the flesh that oh so closely resembled those of who he feared the most. He never wanted to turn out like them. Like his family.

Like his dad.

“I had no choice. I had to do it.” He choked out, his voice thick. His gaze fell from yours. Cheeks scrunching and eyes narrowing in attempt to hold back tears.

“Oh Theo,” Your voice was barely a whisper as you threw yourself against his chest, holding his head down into your neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly, chest heaving sporadicly. You felt the tears fall onto your skin, his walls breaking down faster than he was prepared for.

But he wasn’t prepared for any of this.

“I had no choice, I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating through sobs, barely able to catch his own breath. His grip around you never wavering once. You held him close, rubbing his back gently and stroking his hair to try and stabilize him.

“I know love I know. I am so sorry they made you do that.” You whispered in his ear. Peppering kisses where you could without moving his face from your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to be like them.” His voice is what broke you most. Never had you heard it so coarse, his throat raw from the choked sobs leaving him. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.” He continued, his voice weaker. His voice was giving up. He was giving up.

You let the silence around you two swallow you. The words that should be said not coming to mind, hoping your touch was enough to replace them.

What does one even say in a moment like this?

Theo’s grasp on you loosened, his hands falling to your sides as he backed away from your embrace. Concern consuming you as you watched his face tighten, the facade of a cold and distant Theo appearing.

It felt like a dagger was stabbed in your stomach.

It all felt like a dagger to your stomach.

But this, this part of him returning after spending so long trying to break him free of it whilst around you. That is what brought you to your breaking point.

Anger and hatred coursed through your veins, your blood boiling at the mere thought of what you wanted to do to Theo’s dad.

“You need to leave me.” Theo’s voice was cold. Direct. His fingers digging into your skin, holding you so tight, not wanting to let you go despite his words.

He didn’t want any of this.

“No, don’t you say that.” The dagger was turning, your body screaming in pain.

“It’s better for you.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“You aren’t safe with me!” His voice raised, his anger about the whole situation finally coming out. His face softened as your body grew frigid, apologetic hands holding your face. “This, this changes everything. You know what they do, what they go through. I can’t put you in that danger.”

“You aren’t going through it alone Theo. I’ll be fine okay? I can hold for my own. We’re going to figure this all out together.” Your hands found their place above his, fingers interlocking.

“I won’t sacrifice your safety. I love you too much to let this affect you in any way.”

“And I love you too much to let you do this.” His eyes searched yours, trying to find something to tell of the future.

“Y/n please.”

“Theo! Listen to me! Im not giving up on us over this! Some part of us knew this would happen at some point. I understood it when I went all in. And Im all in! I’m with you in this! Let me be with you through this!”

“You’re going to end up hurt.” A stray tear fell down his cheek, eyes pleading to you.

“And I’m willing to take that risk. I’d crush my soul over and over again if it meant I’d get to have my happiest days with you. I will sacrifice my being for you to be the one I take my last breathe seeing.”

Theos eyes scanned your features, uncertainty washing over his face. He took a deep breath before pulling you close, lips smashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, passion filling you both whole. His touch burning into you, souls intertwining like the stars within a galaxy, dancing with each other under the moonlight. He pulled his lips away, just barely brushing over yours as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry ciccina.” And he was off. His gaze straight, never turning back to you as he walked into the tower, the door closing behind him with a loud bang.

You stood frozen, eyes blurring and legs weakening. Your mind completely blank of any thoughts just knowing you were hurt. So deeply indescribably hurt. A piece of your heart off and away without any hesitation.

Theodore Nott, the reason for your hearts beating, breaking it away from you, his grasp on it tight. That piece always belonging to him. Haunting him of the memory of you. His two demons interacting within the same night, both forever stuck with him until his last breath.

gonna be honest this once had a happy ending but then i got stuck and was like nah

ANYWAY FIRST HARRY POTTER FIC LETS GOOO

[appleslightning]

exposure therapy by @pl0tty

[thatmoonspell]

My first piece of fan art. My baby Regulus Black 🌙 ✨ Oil paint on 8x8 canvas. So excited to paint more HP pieces! 🤍

Follow me on Instagram!🌟

[neverenoughmarauders]

Sirius Black did not know that Barty Crouch Jr was a Death Eater! He didn’t know that Severus Snape was a Death Eater! He did not know that the dark mark was branded into Death Eaters (and could thus never have expressed the sentiment: Regulus got / took the mark). When Harry told Sirius about Karkaroff showing Snape something on his arm, it confused Sirius.

Death Eaters operated with masks and in secrecy of each other (that’s likely why Snape didn’t know Peter was the spy).

Nobody knew shits in the first war!

[donotwishonme]

june 2: night - 457 words - @jegulus-microfic

James couldn’t be happier. The three of them, him, Harry and Regulus, are sitting on the couch, watching WALL-E. He had been anxious to introduce Regulus and Harry to each other, but all seemed to go well. Harry insisted on sitting in the middle. He’s currently leaning his head against James’ arm, already half asleep.

As the end credits begin to roll James gently shakes him awake, “Say good night to Reg, Haz. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

“No!” Harry protests.

"No? Why not you already stayed up past your bedtime, remember our deal? You were almost sleeping just now.”

“Reg has to.”

“Really? You want Reg to bring you to bed?” James asks his son who nods furiously. He looks over at Regulus, gauging how he feels about this. Harry’s already in his pajamas, as part of their deal to stay up late, he only needs to brush his teeth, be tucked in and read to him before he goes to sleep. 

“It’s fine.” He stands up and holds his hand out for Harry to take. “Let’s go, bud.”

Harry hugs him, wishes him goodnight and hops off the couch to take Regulus’ hand.

He stays quietly sitting on the couch listening to the sounds upstairs. He hears the tap run; that’s Harry brushing his teeth. He listens to their steps walking from the bathroom to Harry’s room. He hears the ruffling of Harry’s blankets as he gets cozy.

After ten minutes of listening he goes upstairs to check on them.

“One more story, then. A short one, okay?” He overheard Regulus talk softly. When he reached the door he could see Harry, barely awake, snuggling with his stuffed lion wrapped in his blanket and Regulus sitting on the floor in front of him with three books for Harry to choose from.

A smile spreads over his face at the sight in front of him. He knew Reg must be great with kids, he has a cousin and a Goddaughter around Harry’s age that he sees frequently, but to see him interact so kindly with his own kid opens a new level of fondness in his heart for him.

It takes two pages before Harry is asleep. Regulus silently puts the books back on the nightstand and stands up. He silently pads across the room towards James, meeting him in a hug.

“What are you looking at, hm?” he whispers when he reaches James. He takes one more look at Harry’s sleeping form before he closes the door.

“Just my two favourite people in the world.” 

“You’re silly,” Regulus accuses him, “Harry thinks so too.” James hums, slowly nodding his head.

“Oh, Harry thinks so too,” he says seriously, “must be true, then.” 

[cherry-pop-elf]

Birthday Boys

It’s Fred and George’s birthday, and you wanted to give them something very special. It’s hard to give them something like that, but you are married to them for a reason. As if they would ever settle for someone boring, now would they?

Warnings: 18+, Double Penetration (A and V), teasing, breeding, overstimulation, dirty talk, birthday suits ((hehe)) lipstick kink(?) and of course Fred Lives. Because I said so ((George still missing an ear tho! Bleh-!))

“Well what’s this?” George would blink, as a paper airplane would land itself on his desk. Fred would raise a brow, as he set down the ink he had grabbed for his younger twin. It’s April First. The ever busiest day of the year, and their birthday as well. That meant they were swamped with work, and just trying to finish the day. The shop may be closed, now, but damn they were still drowning.

“Don’t just stare at it, open it up-!” Fred would bonk the younger twin, with his wand, making him fix at his hair. He would give a grumble, as he unfolded the neat little parchment. By the hand writing alone, he knew it was from you. What was written made him a bit flushed in the cheeks. Always was the more emotional of the two, so Fred was quick to look over his shoulder. Reading along.

To my special Birthday Boys. You two have been working so hard all day. Such a wonderful occasion deserves a present, doesn’t it? I better expect you to leave paper work for later, and hurry up to our bedroom. It gets rather chilly being all alone. I don’t want your present to get cold either. Not when I worked so hard to wrap it all up so nicely in purples and oranges. If you don’t want it, I’ll be more than happy to make use of it all myself. Sincerely yours~!

Never had they side alone aparated so fast in their life. Gave you quite the startle, to suddenly see them. You should have figured they wouldn’t waste time, but boy they move fast. Even after all these years together, it catches you by surprise. Though, this time they were the ones with wide eyes this time around.

There you were, in the middle of the bed, dressed to the nines. A array of orange, and purple, fabric against your skin. Stockings of lace. Done up so pretty to mimic that of a fire work, with little dots all around. The fingerless arm length gloves had to be, as to help bring focus to how bare the rest of you were. Nothing else to your skin, but your own birthday suit. Besides so heavy makeup, because you knew they loved it when it got all ruined. What really sold it was the bows all over you. Around your thighs, wrists, neck, just for the comical effect of a birthday present. Hey, it’s April Fools. Gotta get silly.

“H-“ Before you could get a single syllable out, they were on you. Like starving dogs. Clothes were flying, and your body was quick to be sandwiched between the two men. Your neck attacked in kisses, and their ever rough hands trailing your skin. Tracing all the invisible lines they had tracked on you.

“Guess you like the surprise-?” You joked, as you were leaning yourself against Fred. While George was enjoying your front. Sucking plenty of hickies on your skin, while Fred was enjoying playing with your nipples. Had you squeak, and flush, as he was enjoying the happily given toy.

“Taking that as a yes-“ You sighed, as you were just a meal for the wolves. Wolves that always had your flavor of flesh in mind. It just felt so good to be so desired. To be wanted so badly, it could hurt. Especially after such an exhausting day, they needed to get that pent up steam out.

“Been thinking about you all day long-“ George would sigh, as he stole your lips into his own. Happily allowing your lipstick to stain his own, while your hips rubbed onto the building hard on in Fred’s lap. Just a tangle of wild limbs, and you couldn’t have loved anything more.

“Come on, save some for me. Give em here-“ And you would be stolen by Fred next. Making sure he got his lips stained all the same. George didn’t complain, as he would let the lipstick residue trail over your exposured chest. Designing you, as Fred let his tongue do any talking he had left.

You enjoyed the sensual, and slow, pace. Made you fall into the mood far easier. But, you knew why they were being so gentle. Gentle starts always ended with you drooling and utterly delirious. They were going to destroy you, to your core, and that had you so hopeful.

“Just look at you.” They breathed, in unison, as you were just a doll in their hands. Your body leaning into Fred’s, with his legs spread to make sure you were comfortable. Meanwhile George was above you, on his knees, and taking in the sight. Just starving for you, while Fred was busy with the bedside table. Making sure to grab some lube, as you realized what you signed up for.

“Don’t say I never treat you.” That had them laugh, at your comment. Sweet little feathery kisses were given to your face, and neck, while the line was passed to each other. Slicking themselves up, before using the residue to make sure you were nice and comfortable. A thank you, for such a wonderful present.

“Wrapped up in such a pretty bow.” Fred sighed, as he stuck two fingers inside of you. That had you bite your lip, before the mimicking motion from George made it slip out. Fred was in your ass, and George was in your core. Able to copy each other’s movements in perfect unison. Some call it disturbing, you call it heaven.

“Damn, wet as hell. Don’t even need lube. We’re so excited to get to be our gift, weren’t you? Isn’t that sweet Fred-?” “Oh the ever sweetest George. We love it when you get excited. Gets us excited.” They echoed each other, while making sure to lather as much as they could. Knowing you would need it, and still remembering to put your needs first. Just gentle motions, as they made sure to cover as much as two fingers could. Teasing away at your sensitive spots, just to make you squirm.

“I can’t wait any more.” “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” And like that, the fingers were removed. You whined at it, which made them smirk. Now, you were feeling them pressed against you. They planned to go in, at the exact same time. It made your heart race. To imagine, being stuffed so quickly.

“How about we-“ But they broke through the tight barrier, and your mind was mush. Not so much from pain, just the over whelming sensation of being so full. To feel your insides grow so tight, as your muscles were being pulled yet pushed at the same time. Was a fluttery experience. Somehow so light, yet couldn’t be heavier.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You heard Fred whisper into your ear, while your blurry eyes could make out that George was hardly able to keep his own open. Biting into his stained lip, as to not whimper too early. To last, but damn. You knew he was fighting for his life.

Once they were both fully inside, the three of you just stayed that way. A mixture of wanting to make sure you were adjusted, and them not wanting to end the game so soon. How embarrassing that would be. Least that meant you were being pampered. With heavy breathing, and wet kisses on your skin. A means to help you relax, and it worked.

“Lucky me, I get to be the first one to pump you full. Isn’t that nice of Fred? To let me be the one to pump your little womb full?” That had your face burn. Yeah, you three were trying, but none of you exactly went into to much details on how such a thing would plan out. Given Magic was involved, with everything, isn’t a dumb guess to think these two will somehow knock you up at the same time. Just made you all the more flushed, as Fred would rub over your stomach.

“Don’t worry. When he’s done with you, we will switch. I can’t just waste it all in your ass. I love that cute thing, but I love you being full of out kids more.” Fred moaned, as he finally moved his hips. Just in time with George’s. The feeling of two at once, in different holes. Truly a fuzzy experience.

Your hands found George’s shoulders, while Fred grabbed your legs. Keeping you spread as wide as they could, as they rocked their hips into you. Such perfect calculations to make sure your mind stayed in that blissful fuzz. Was leaving you with your nails into Georges skin.

“Come on, love. You gotta moan louder for me. I’m missing an ear over here. Give me some noise-!” George cackled, as Fred took that as a que to pick up the pace. Your head was rolling itself back, and leaned on Fred’s shoulder. Giving George exactly what he wanted, after all. Louder moans, whimpers, gasps, and plenty of smacking flesh to fill in between.

“So cock drunk, and the night hardly started.” Fred teases, as he bit into your shoulder. Needing to steady himself, but the feeling was too much. George would have agreed, if it were vocal. They were getting sloppy with their movements, and you wouldn’t last long either. Especially since George was now planting sloppy kisses against your lips. Leaving you two a jumble mess of spit and moans.

Hearing their desperate breaths, and whimpers of trying to hold on, it was what brought you over the edge. By proxy, your tightening grip in your body had them gasp. Their hips stuttering, as they came inside of you. Throbbing, and having a shake in their system.

Riding it out was such a warm feeling. Felt like everything was on fire, in all the best ways. Already so exhausted, and ready to just sleep, but….They weren’t making any April fools joke with you. Just as your eyes closed, they moved.

You have a squeak, before a breathy moan, as they pulled out. Left such a mess between all your legs, before you were flipped around. Your hands now on Fred’s chest, and ass presented to George. Out right lining up again.

“Perk-A-Boo~!” Fred teases, as he poked your nose. Just as you wiggled it, they thrusted right back into you. The stimulation of being restuffed was mind melting. Right after your high, and with so much already running down your legs. The sounds of all made were so loud, and wet. Was utterly thrilling.

Fred was happy to drink in your moans, hogging as many kisses as he could. Meanwhile George was happily feeling over your hips. Letting those hard working hands trace the lipstick marks shared between them both.

“Don’t do poor Georgie like that, come on. You gotta moan a little louder. His hearing isn’t so good.” Fred would tease, as he forced your chin up. Trying to amplify your desperate sounds. It was all too much. You were going to reach your peak again, with tears running down your face. Smearing away the remains of your makeup.

“Just hang on a little more. I want to make sure I get nice and deep in there.” Fred comforted, as George planted kisses down your back. Making sure your skin was covered in whatever remained of their lips.

Everything was so blurry, but you knew this. You came again, and your insides were coated once more. The ringing in your ears were dancing with the shakey moans of your lovers. So happy, and satisfied, with wrecking you so much.

When you came back to reality, you realized the lingerie you wore was gone. Seems they made sure to give you a sponge bath, before they were knocked out. You between them, as they snuggled you.

Fred behind you, as he held your stomach. Ever a man that loved feeling your ass against him. Meanwhile George was infront of you, tangling your legs together, as he snuck his arms just above Fred’s. His face under your chin, so he could listen to your heart beat.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You whispered, as you made sure they both were kissed on their heads. Freckled smiles crossed their lips, as they snuggled closer. Fred, enjoying his nose in your neck, while George gave you a squeeze. Maybe you should gift wrap yourself more often.

[geminil0vr]

two heads are better than one | fred and george weasley

tldr: your rather salicious friend, fred, is showing you the ropes when his brother walks in. what you don't expect, however, is for him to keep going.

word count: 2.5k

content: very dubious consent. one shot of vodka voyeurism, first time foreplay, cunnilingus, overstimulation, etc!

“Shit, Fred!” 

Your thighs tremble as one of your closest friends pumps a thick finger in and out of you, delivering teasing, kitten licks to your clit. Just ten minutes ago, you confessed to Fred, your friend of eleven months, that no one had ever touched you before, and he took matters into his own hands: quite literally.

As it turns out, this is more than a mere extension of your occasional drunken flirtatiousness: that was child's play, now, nothing more than two friends joking about. You've thought about Fred before, and Fred most certainly about you, but you never imagined he'd be between your thighs, opening you up for him under the guise of 'showing you the ropes'. Sure, you've been in his room before, while his family wasn't home. And sure, he's made cheap jokes about you plenty of times, too. But this time, when he called you a prude and you shot back, revealing a rather vapid sexual history... one thing led to another, and now he's showing you things you've merely dreamed about. It's only meant to be of help, a lesson, experience for the future, but he knows exactly how to touch you, how to make your knees weak and your heart stutter in anticipation. The summer air is stifling, the sensation of him showing you what he can do (or rather 'what he does best', as he claims, and you wouldn't be in much of a place to disagree) suffocating as you arch your back off his checkered duvet, now damp with sweat.

It's weirder than anything to be doing something as dirty as this in his family home, let alone the room he shares with his twin brother: but you'll have to move past that. Thinking too much in a situation like this isn't ideal — you draw your eyes away from George's side of the room. You just need him to keep going.

Seeking some sense of stability, you clutch the bedframe tightly behind your head, knuckles paling. He seems to hit a new spot every second, and you wouldn't dare glance down to see him revelling in what he's doing to you. You attempted that at the start, when he had lowered you onto his bed and carefully removed your shorts. With a few cautious touches to your clit over your underwear, making sure you felt okay with him touching you like this, you simply gave up and flattened against the mattress. Now, your clothing is somewhere across the room and your thighs are slick, patterned with tender bites and kisses from before Fred dived exactly where you wanted him.

He doesn't think he's ever seen someone so beautiful, so out of their own control and into his, quiet moans and gasps escaping your lips as he slides his tongue expertly over your folds. In fact, he might just cum in his jeans, seeing your body spread out for him, tits bouncing in the small, transparent tank top you'd pulled on under your top when you left this morning. Certainly didn't expect the afternoon to turn out like this.

“You can be louder, love,” He grins against you, mouth and chin wet with your slick, and you squint an eye open, propping yourself up to look at him in all his glory. You've never seen anyone this pretty, either. Being so exposed, you flush, attempting to close your legs just as he gingerly presses them down again, hand on one thigh and an elbow on the other, "No one's home."

“Can you —” You gasp when he chuckles at the desperate pitch of your voice, cool air blowing over you and causing your hips to jerk upwards, “— please not refer to your family while you're...”

“Eating you out?” His lips pull into an easy smirk, and before you can speak he blows another, teasing wave of air over your clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily again. You throw your head back and grab a handful of his bright hair, pushing him back lightly.

“Please, Fred.”

“You’re no fun, Y/N.” he retorts playfully, before swiping his tongue once more against you, making you whimper even louder and roll your hips in tandem with him. Curses spill from your lips quietly whenever he catches your clit just right — you need more.

He plants a wet kiss on your thigh, asking for your attention, and you sit up again, cheeks hot and hair mussed from the repeated tossing and turning. You eye him expectantly, brows furrowed in desperation and wanting nothing more than for him to keep going.

“Do you want me to try and add another finger, or d'you think that's too much?”

“Yeah, yes please. More, please.” You mumble, gnawing at your lip and guiding your hips back to his mouth. He smiles, sweeter this time, and nips at your clit. Before long, he's carefully sinking another finger into you. You've never felt this full, and if you weren't so drunk on the feeling of his lips on you, you would be panicking.

“Christ, you’re tight,” He keeps his elbow pressed firmly against one of your flushed thighs, his hand on your other one, still preventing you from closing your legs, “Can you relax for me?”

With his free hand, he trails soft circles on your hip, and you adjust slightly to the stretch, letting his index and middle finger sink a little further into you.

“Fred, have you seen my— oh.”

Always with the excellent timing, George Weasley bursts through the door holding a half-eaten slice of buttered toast in one hand, the door handle in his other.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment, “Blimey. Nice one.”

Fred glances over at him, barely reacting and continuing to open you up despite the fact that you're clamping down on him in embarrassment, "Yeah, thanks, mate."

He leans down and lets a trail of saliva drip itself down to your heat. You freeze in shock as George continues into the room, eyes shifting off your body and to a chest of drawers in front of the two beds. Fred curls his fingers and the moan that catches in your throat propulses you into action: you grasp him by the hair, not too rough, and attempt to push him away.

“What's wrong?” His brows knit together. George is rummaging through the first drawer, clearly frustrated and in search of something.

“Fred, you—” Your chest flushes once more, this time in humiliation, and your stomach caves in and out with each hurried breath, “Your brother is right there!” you hiss.

You squirm under his hold, but he secures a hand around your waist and squeezes so delicately that you almost forget. Any attempt to clench your thighs together is futile: you're mad at Fred, for leaving you exposed; at George, for interrupting; at yourself for clenching around his fingers when you should be wrestling your way off the bed and back into your clothes. The only thing you can do is press your hands over your tits, painfully aware of how see-through your top is. Throughout all of this, George has given up and made his way to sit on his bed, facing you both just a few feet away, munching nonchalantly on his toast and fiddling with a figurine on his nightstand.

“And?” He curls his fingers inside you again and you bite your lip, eyes frantic, caught between crying or grinding your hips further into his palm. Your eyes dart over to George, who's lazily rolling a trinket around in his hand, rubbing at his nose with his wrist.

“What do you mean, and? He's right there!” You spit down at him.

“Does it really matter?” His voice ends up muffled by your folds as he glides his tongue between them, saliva and cum coating his fingers. You whimper desperately, squirming again in pleasure and discomfort.

“Sorry to interrupt," Your head whips to the side as George begins to speak, eyes wide, body tensing, "But, Fred?"

He reluctantly pulls away from you, lips swollen, "Yeah?"

"D'you have any idea where that Muggle... game-thingy, is? The one that Dad brought back the other day?" He finishes his toast.

"What, the Gameguy?" Fred questions.

"Gameboy! That!"

Fred nods heartily and gingerly removes his fingers from you, still covered in slick, to point to a woven basket full of clutter in the corner of the room. You whine.

"Should be in there."

As George gets up, still chewing, your eyes track Fred's fingers to his mouth, where he sucks them clean and opens up your thighs again, hands splayed out. He eyes your swollen clit, your hole clenching around nothing.

"You like that, do you?" Your eyes dart to his, jaw slack.

You barely manage to squeak out a, "What?"

"Tastes sweet." He squeezes your hip, grinning and leaning down to capture you in his mouth once again. You gasp, long ago having given up on covering up, instead holding yourself up as your hands clutch the duvet. Your eyes dart from him to George.

"Fred, please!"

"Please, what?" he mumbles, thighs closing in around his head as he grips your waist, this time letting you.

A whimper is your only response, and you bite down on the side of your hand to keep yourself quiet. At this, he presses your hands to the bed.

"No, love — let me hear you. George doesn't mind, do you George?" The boy in question casts a glance over his shoulder as he digs through the clutter.

"No, really, it's fine!"

Fred quirks a brow at you, "See?"

He buries his face into your sex, 'eating you out' like his life depends on it, and you sob out in need when he pushes one of your thighs away to shove his fingers back inside you again, "Shit!"

George chuckles to himself, glancing at you two again and fiddling with the Gameboy he's finally recovered. Brushing a hand off on his pants, he grabs a wooden chair and sits next to the bed, nonchalantly pressing a few buttons on the game console. Your eyes widen in surprise, only snapping shut when you feel the pressure in your abdomen mounting up.

“God, Fred, enough! Please!” The humiliation racks through your body, and George tossing his Gameboy to the side to lean back in his chair and watch you, so close to coming undone, certainly doesn't help. Fred tries to soothe you by tracing more circles on your hip, but it sets you more on edge than anything with his brother sat right there.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you’re doing great. First time?” George, your friend, the boy you don't often speak to unless involving yourself in the twins' antics or eating with them in the dining hall, smiles softly while you hold yourself back from letting go. You nod meekly, cheeks flaming as your breathing picks up even more. Oh, God.

In search of some form of escape, you turn your head away from George and bury it into a pillow. Fred is relentless, brushing against your g-spot with every curl of his fingers, teeth at times brushing against your clit and making you jump, closer and closer to your orgasm washing over you. You're helpless, at his mercy. Somehow at George's, too.

George leans forward, elbows resting on his jean-clad thighs as his eyes drag from your open legs, to your bouncing tits, to your neck, turned from him, exposed and shining with sweat.

“You’re doing such a good job, Y/N, love. How about you let go for Fred, hm?” George lilts, tone sweet as he leans forward to brush a hand up your side, at the skin of your waist and over your tank top. You look over at him just as Fred scissors his fingers even deeper inside you, vision blurring.

"No, I— shit —" You bite down on your lip as George's fingers brush over your nipple, already raw with arousal, "George —"

“For me? Come on, love. It's okay."

It’s at this moment that you lose all control, senses shutting down and heightening all at once — your body convulses as you cum. You clamp down on Fred's fingers, chest arching into George's touch, crying out. You have no time to come down, however, when Fred doesn't stop, only slowing down slightly, easing up on your clit and in turn leaving more sloppy bites on the insides of your thighs. George's fingers dance their way up under your top, brushing the underside of your breast. You can't help but curve your back further, body writhing.

“Oh God, Freddie, please! I can’t, I can't, I can't —” you sputter weakly, to no avail.

“You don’t wanna cum on my fingers again?” he teases, once more latching onto your clit, eyeing the way your whole body quivers with overstimulation.

“Come on, you can do it, dove. It's okay, just one more,” George's voice calms you, rough hand softly running over your tits, rolling a thumb over your nipple. You bite your fist, then grasp at your tits yourself, not knowing where to put your hands, desperate not to flail. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your top, and the feeling in your abdomen starts up again, “Mhm, that’s it.”

Finally, you're cumming.

“Fuck!” Your other hand shoots up to your mouth, muffling a yell as you succumb to their touch, legs giving in. Now, Fred let’s you ride out your orgasm, being careful of your sensitivity as he pumps his fingers in and out a few more times before finally pulling away, even as your body attempts to coax him back inside.

George squeezes your waist tenderly, pulling back to watch his brother guide his slick fingers to your lips. Pliable with your eyes hooded, you open your mouth, slathering them with saliva and sucking them clean. Fred runs a hand through your hair, kissing you softly on your temple, mumbling about how well you did, how good you are.

George watches you intently before leaving to lie back on his own bed, Gameboy in hand. Adjusts himself. Fred grabs tissues from his nightstand and cleans you up, finding your clothes and helping you into them. You stand uneasily, ears humming with static, eyes unfocused, and head to the door.

Fred follows you out, and you keep yourself steady by grabbing onto his arm. You look up at him. A cheeky smile tugs at his lips.

“You don't want to stay for dinner?”

He knows better than anyone that you can hardly see straight.

“No, I — I think I'll just, um... I'm just gonna head home." You give him half a smile back, dazed, trying to be polite and make sure your knees don’t buckle all at once.

“No problem, love. You'll be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out.

“Alright. See you later.” He leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and your body thrums once more just at the sight of him. You straighten up slightly at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, “Yeah, sure.”

a/n: this is a rewrite of a previous fic, and i really didn't realise how dark it was until i edited it. this stuff is not normal! consent is key, yada yada yada! it was still getting quite a bit of traction but i ended up accidentally deleting it so... here you go.

[hollowdeath]

my own personal headcanons about harry <3

always reading. always wants to talk about what he's reading. lovesss when you ask him about each book, even better if you want to read it WITH him. secretly loves when you ask him to read you to sleep, even if you only last 5 minutes. always carrying at least a couple books with him at all times. catching him asleep in random places with a book on his chest/face.

LOVES photography. idc idc idc this boy ALWAYS has a camera on him, loves to go on nature adventures for photo ops, constantly asking you to stand somewhere or look at him for yet another portrait. especially loves film & the process of creating a print by hand.

huge animal lover. especially loves cats & dogs. will stop and pet every stray he sees. will spend the majority of every visit to a friend's house trying to get their pet to love him. has a natural connection with them and always has birds, squirrels, and even insects coming up to him with curiosity.

physical touch is his love language. constantly touching you in some way, always wants to hold hands, laying his head on you whenever he can, just can't get enough of it. always looks forward to a night in spent on the couch cuddling & reading together. plays with your hair!!! all the time!!! will literally fall asleep with his hand tangled in your hair at night.

jealous. j-e-a-l-o-u-s. not to an extreme extent, but this boy gets real protective real quick. he's not insecure when it comes to you, he could just never forgive himself if he ever let you get hurt in some way. always has his arm around you in some way while in public, or at least keeps you within eye sight at all times.

music lover!! he loves anything from classical, orchestral, instrumental music to jazz to rock. he's taught himself a bit of guitar, piano, and drums, but is more interested in listening than learning. always asks to go to the theatre, stopping by the local jazz night, and listens to buskers on the street. always has a pair of headphones on him in case he gets a minute away to listen to a song and read a few pages.

[thief-of-eggs]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you are allowed to have a favorite character out of a particular ship. You’re allowed to mostly focus on that character in any fics or art you create. You’re allowed to have a lesser understanding of their counterpart. You do not need to have every ounce of lore in order to ship them. Heck- you can even just like a ship for vibes.

Just because you love a ship doesn’t mean both characters are your absolute favorites. You’re allowed to relate more to one over the other. You’re allowed to make that other character your focus.

[dreamingofmarauders]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In which you go back home only to find something dreadful waiting for you there already

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, torture, also blood but nothing extreme, crying, death(s), knives, I think that's it?

Previous Part Series Masterlist Next Part

───※ ·❆· ※───

Over the next week and a half or so, James was there as you recovered. To the surprise of Lily and Molly, you were doing better than they expected, you were healing fast. Of course, only you knew how many times you had been tortured that landed you on the brink of death, and made it back, all in that hellhole you used to call home.

James was constantly asking if you were alright, if you needed something, and even though you had told him not to, James Potter was full of guilt.

Not only had he misjudged you and been rude to you for years, he was the reason you could have lost your life. He had to make it up to you, somehow. And he was glad you two decided to turn back the pages and write a new story, as he found your company very pleasant.

Sirius was completely blown away at the behavior of his best mate. Sure, you had saved James' life, but that didn't mean James had to follow you around like a lost puppy. Sirius had nearly stopped his cold behavior towards you but didn't try to warm up either. Remus merely quietly chuckled to himself at the sight of James and you. It was quite amusing to him, how James had hated your guts but was now wanting to spend quality time with you.

Going into the second week after the incident, you realized you were well enough and had to head home. James however declared he would escort you home, and would not take no for an answer.

"Potter, I'll be fine." You gritted through your teeth. James' constant stubbornness did manage to get on your nerves from time to time.

"No. I am going and that's final." He said, being stubborn as ever.

"Prongs, let L/n go if she says so." Sirius spoke in between, not happy about the newfound connection between the two of you.

James glared at him and gripped your forearm with a tight grip so you couldn't remove his hand, but not tight enough to hurt you.

You sighed in exasperation. "Fine." You said, giving in. You waved goodbye to Remus and Sirius, the latter not giving any response while Remus wished you farewell.

You and James walked out of headquarters before you closed your eyes, imagining your little cottage and the two of you apparated. You felt a wave of nausea hit you as your feet hit the ground and you bent over.

"Are you ok?" James asked with worry, trying to peer at your face.

You waved a hand, "Yeah, I'm fine." You answered, straightening up. However your mouth went dry and fear filled your whole being at the sight before you.

The door to your cottage was wide open, darkness pooling out. Above the building you called home, a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue, etched against the black sky like a constellation.

The Dark Mark

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" You whimpered, running towards your cottage with James on your tail. You rushed in, halting near your kitchen when you saw a dark red liquid staining the walls. Your breaths began to come out short and quickly, you felt your legs weaken as you leaned against the wall for support.

"This can't be happening." You breathed out, afraid of what you would see if you walked a few more steps in. James came from behind and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, surveying the situation.

"Y/n," He spoke softly, "We should go. I'll let the Order know and they can come and-"

"No." You shook your head as you freed yourself from the young Potter's grip, walking further in.

“Y/n.” James tried but you paid him no heed.

In the middle of the room sat such a heart wrenching sight that crushed your heart and soul entirely.

Your beloved House-Elf, the one companion you had since childhood, the one who healed your wounds, the one who had always made sure you ate and slept properly. The same House-Elf who had stayed by your side no matter how many times you had freed him, the one true friend you had for the longest time.

Dead.

And what broke your heart even more was that he had sacrificed his life, as his body lay lifeless in front of a small bundle of fur, also drowning in a pool of blood. The same puppy you had rescued from the streets only two months prior.

Both of them,

Dead.

You sank to your knees, sobbing your heart out.

"I'm so sorry." You managed to say out in between the heavy sobs escaping your mouth. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you two."

James stood rooted to his spot, reeling in with shock.

You shakily raised your hands out, grabbing the handles of the very metal that was pierced into your friends bodies and pulled them out. You tossed the knives to the side in anger, letting out a scream. At that, James finally snapped out of it and kneeled down beside you, bringing you into his chest.

"I'm so sorry." He said, rubbing your back as you cried.

You two stayed in that position for the next few moments. However a new sound caught both your attention.

Crack!

You pulled away from James' chest, wiping your face as you both exchanged a look.

Someone had just apparated onto the premises.

You both immediately jumped to your feet, wands raised in front of you.

You heard very tiny sounds of the pitter patter of feet and James moved forward, putting himself in front of you. You watched with bated breath over James' shoulder and when the newly arrived came into view, you shrieked, happiness and relief overwhelming you as you pushed past James. You fell onto your knees as you hugged your best friend.

"Willy! You're alive!" You spoke, feeling like your heart would burst.

A bark sounded and a very small bundle of white fur pounced onto you, excitedly licking your face. You picked him up, peppering his face with kisses.

"Hello to you too, my sunshine." You spoke as you hugged your dog, Fluffy, to your chest and pulled in Willy for a hug with your other arm. You were so overwhelmed with joy that tears began to cascade down your face again.

"Mistress, please do not cry. Willy did not mean to make Mistress cry."

You let out a watery laugh.

"How many times have I told you to call me Y/n, Willy?"

The House-Elf's cheeks colored pink. "Sorry, Mistress."

You wiped your tears away and then frowned, turning back to look at the scene in the kitchen.

"But if you're alive then, what's that?" You asked Willy, pointing over your shoulder.

"Those are fake, Mistress." Willy squeaked out. "About two weeks ago, I heard someone apparate and the wards shifted. Willy thought it must be you, Mistress, but it was not. You had told us to run if anyone evil came here, and we did but Willy had a good idea and with magic, Willy made the impostors so the evil people think it is us but Fluffy and Willy were gone and safe."

You let out a happy cry.

"You are an absolute genius, Willy, always have been! But how did you know we were here?"

Willy's ears bounced as he replied, "Willy had put up a new ward that allowed Willy to sense a new arrival if someone passed that ward."

You shook your head, smiling brighter than James had ever seen as you turned around, almost forgetting he was there.

"We need to go back. I need to stay at Headquarters until I can find a new place to shift us all."

James nodded but spoke without realizing, "Of course, but you could come to my place, it's fairly empty."

He mentally slapped himself. You two were at loggerheads two weeks ago and now here he was offering you to stay at his flat.

You smiled, "Thank you for the offer, but it wouldn't be nice of us to intrude, plus," You looked down at the excited puppy in your arms, "Headquarters may be more ideal for Fluffy in terms of space."

James nodded, not trusting himself to speak for if he did, something stupid would escape his mouth again.

James and you went through your cottage, collecting anything of importance and essentials, before apparating back to Headquarters, leaving the cottage in the state it was in case someone came back.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you're all well! This chapter was okay I feel but I'm more excited for the next few chapters, you'll see why when they're out! Take care! <33

Wizard Buddies (Taglist): @quack-quack-snacks @jamespottergf @themarauderswife7 @amethyistheart

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter one - falling behind

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1199

author’s note: i am so excited for this first chapter. im forcing myself to pace these so i don't get burned out LMAO. i hope you enjoy this first installment!!! also not beta read so fight me.

song inspiration: "like the movies" by laufey

“Why haven’t you ever dated, Y/n?”

While the question had been relatively simple, its forwardness sent you into a coughing fit while sipping your coffee at breakfast. Sitting across from the inquirer, Luna Lovegood, you quickly mopped up your spill while throwing her a dirty look. The conversation at your table that morning in the Great Hall had consisted of relationships, past, present, and mind-numbing, wobbly-kneed crushes, but you hadn’t expected the focus of the chat to turn towards you.

To your right, your dearest friend, Hermione Granger, quickly jumped to your defense. “It’s not that simple, Luna. There are a number of perfectly good reasons why someone does or does not, in Y/n’s case, date!”

Hermione seemed absolutely content with her answer, patting you gently on the back with a kind smile. Her sympathy made you groan before you dropped your head into your hands. “For the love of Merlin, can we please discuss something—”

Ginny Weasley plopped down on your right, eager to give her two cents on the matter of your abysmal dating record. “I mean, you’ve had people interested in you, right? None of them have piqued your fancy? What’s his face—um…Lee Jordan! He asked you out a few months ago, right? What about him?”

“What about Cormac?” asked Hannah Bones. “I know he’s a bit of a tosser, but he’s not bad to look at. I sit next to him in Transfiguration, I could introduce you!”

Increasingly irritated with the course of the conversation, you piped up. “Thank you, Hannah, but I’ve got no interest in—”

Ginny interrupted, “What about one of my brothers? They’re bloody idiots, no doubt, but I’m sure I could put in a good word. What’s your type? Hmm—you into the whole cheeky thing Fred and George have going on—”

“Enough!” The four girls stared at you and your face that could easily rival a tomato with its present scarlet hue. A silence washed over the nearby tables in the Great Hall. A few odd looks were thrown at you from the surrounding students before their conversations recommenced. “As much as I appreciate your intense interest in my lack of relationships, I don’t feel like fleshing it out over cinnamon rolls and sausage links at 8:00 a.m. in the morning, if you lot don’t mind.”

The girls quickly began to apologize before you hushed them. “It’s totally fine, seriously, I just don’t want to get into it. We’re all good. Promise.”

As if sensing that you weren’t entirely ‘good,’ Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione beat her to it. “Y/n and I have got to get going if we’re going to make it to Potions. We’ll see you guys later, alright?” You could have snogged the life out of Hermione for the offered escape route. You and Hermione both knew you had another thirty minutes before your first class, but what the three girls didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. After swiftly packing up her things, Hermione linked her arm with yours, whisking you away from the other three.

Even though your next class was in the dungeons, Hermione steered you towards an unfamiliar corridor, one she had likely found on the vast number of adventures she, Harry, and Ron had found themselves in over the years. Arms still intertwined; she sat you both on a bench. After sitting in a few moments of silence, you squeezed her arm and spoke, “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

Returning your squeeze, she smiled. “I figured you could use a break from that inquisitive lot. They can be a bit much, altogether at once. Merlin knows how they’ll react when I tell them about Ron and me.” The two of you looked at each other in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. Hermione laughed at the imaginary image of shock and disbelief she imagined would appear on Ginny’s face. You laughed, however, at the thought that anyone could be unaware to the obvious affection shared between the couple. You doubted that Filch, perhaps the most oblivious man to ever inhabit Hogwarts, couldn’t see the feelings that had steadily been growing between Hermione and Ron since their first year. Feelings you had yet to experience at Hogwarts, despite your desperate desire to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hermione peered into your face before softly speaking, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won’t push you or anything, but I just want you to know you have an ear if you want one.”

Considering her words, you peered at the ceiling that seemed miles away. Of all the people you knew at Hogwarts, Hermione might have been the best to unburden yourself to.

You turned to look at her before speaking. “Well, it’s like this. Take Lee Jordan for example—when he asked me out, he found me after Defense Against the Dark Arts and just said, ‘Want to go out sometime, L/N?’ And that’s it! I mean, it took him all of four seconds to ask—and I don’t know…I asked him why he wanted to go out with me—which let me tell you he gave me quite a funny look because of my question—before he said, ‘Well, you’re fit and nice.’    

Hermione laughed at Lee’s simplistic answer before you continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine answer, and I appreciated the ‘fit’ part especially,” you said, winking at Hermione, “But that was the whole exchange. No real effort, no deep interest in me. It was simple.”

Hermione smiled at you, “But you don’t want simple, do you?”

You shrugged. “I guess not? Believe me, I don’t want a live performance where the man of my dreams serenades me with a homemade song listing my manifold of attractions.” This time you joined Hermione in her laughter. “I’d rather die on the spot, honestly, than endure that, but the point is I don’t want to be asked out just to be asked out. I want someone who’s thought about it, someone who’s noticed the little things about me, and lets me know that he has noticed them. I want to be wooed, goddammit!”

Hermione pealed in laughter for a solid minute before she managed to catch her breath. Smiling, she replied, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be ‘wooed’, Y/n. Godric knows Ron could stand to do a bit more ‘wooing’ when it comes to us.”

Turning your body fully to Hermione, you took her hands into yours, earnestly. “You don’t think I’m asking for too much? Being too high maintenance? I mean, I suppose we are young and still learning after all and—”

“Y/n, no. There is nothing wrong with wanting to know if someone truly likes you and wanting them to show it.” She squeezed your hands in assurance.

“Are you positively sure, because honestly—”

“I am absolutely sure, Y/n.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“What do you think absolute means, Y/n?”

“…Point taken, ‘Mione.”

“Now then,” she said, standing and dragging you along with her, “we really must head off to Potions if we don’t want to be late.”

Trotting behind her, you smiled at your ever-punctual friend, “Yes ma’am.”

[ecstarry]

"Regulus' Birthday" - a sweet microfic set in the same universe as my fic Dare to Stay // @fromagony @godsofwoes // 486 words

“Happy Birthday, love.” Regulus was awaken to the soft voice of his James. His James. His James waking him up. With a gentle kiss, on his birthday. In his bed. He slowly opened his eyes as a smile adorned his face. 

“Good morning, Jamie.”

It was their first big celebration together ever since they shared their first kiss a few months ago. They had longed for each other too many years to waste a single day apart. James was good at making up for lost time. 

“Get dressed, the boys have a surprise for you.” 

He quickly put on some pants and James’ shirt from yesterday. He loved nothing more than smelling like him first thing in the morning. James held the bedroom door for him, and as Regulus passed him by, James grabbed him from behind, placed his chin on Regulus’ shoulder and very gently whispered “I love you.” Three words that never failed to send a shiver through Regulus’ spine. 

Regulus turned around, his hands instinctively cupping James' face. "I love you too, Jamie."

“Let’s go, love. I can feel the boys getting impatient.”

Giggles and tiny voices grew louder as they walked down the stairs. When they reached the last step Regulus stopped dry. The entrance had a big banner reading ‘Happy Birthday’ in fun colors, and ‘we love you’ written under it in what was clearly Harry and Draco’s writing. 

Before he could even process the overwhelming warmth that was filling him, two little boys rushed towards his arms with such a force that he fell over. 

“Happy birthday Uncle Reggie!” Said Draco as he kissed his cheek.

“Aaaaah!” Harry just screamed as he also launched himself towards a fallen Regulus. Harry hugged him tightly, a gesture Regulus held onto dearly just as much as the first time it happened. 

“Okay, let’s give my fiancé some space on his big day. Let’s go show him his surprise.” James helped him up and they followed the boys towards the kitchen. 

Like two miniature guards, Draco and Harry stood on opposite sides of the pantry door.

“One, two, three!”

“Surprise!” Sirius said as the doors opened and ran towards Regulus to embrace him. 

“I thought you were going to be away,” Regulus whispered to his brother’s ear while holding onto him. 

“I have never spent a birthday away from you, I was not going to start now little brother.”

Regulus couldn’t help the tears falling down his cheeks. He remembered the loneliness and desperation that filled his fifteen year old self. He was now living a reality that once upon a time felt like a fantasy. Something unattainable, something someone like Regulus Black would never deserve.

He now had everything he had ever longed for. 

There, one day in July, standing in the kitchen of Potter Manor, Regulus Blacked had no more scars left to heal. He was happy. Entirely and blissfully happy. 

here's the complete fic that started it all

[appleslightning]

nice things

[hogwartsfirebolt]

telepathy

“You never suspected?” Harry whispers into the curve of my shoulder. His skin is warm against my side, our legs tangled together in the cocoon of his sheets.

I know he’s thinking of the appointment I had earlier, of the diagrams I showed him that the healer drew for me, explaining that her scans showed my magic reaching out, touching her mind gently.

“That I’m a telepath? No. Legilimency always came easy to me, but I never suspected actual telepathy.” I close my eyes, lean closer so that his hair tickles my nose and I can smell the coconut scent of his shampoo, fresh and lovely. “Although … sometimes I did feel like I knew what you wanted, what you were thinking. In bed, specially”

He huffs a laugh against my skin, brushes his lips over a freckle on my neck that I only know is there because he mentions it all the time. “That actually explains a lot.”

A proud thrill shoots through my belly and I feel a smile threatening to spill into my face. It’s not that I didn’t know he wants me — he makes it so clear each time — but knowing for sure that he does and that I give him what he wants in turn makes me feel powerful in a way I’ve never experienced before. I reach out then, the path to his thoughts feeling easy now I know I’ve been treading it for years.

He’s running his fingers along my hip, the inside of my thigh, and his thoughts are simple, surrounded by lust and warmth.

All this beautiful milky skin.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks hotly, and clear my throat. I’m helpless to the admission I want to make, feel it drawn out of me by the sheer glow of being in his presence. I say, “But sometimes I felt it after, too, whenever we finished. I just never thought … to tell you the truth, I just thought that’s how it is when you’re in —”

The embarrassment of saying it out loud feels unmanageable, but I would’ve pushed through if it weren’t for his green eyes widening, for the alarms blaring through my awareness of his thoughts. His lips cover mine swiftly in a pressing, achingly lovely kiss and he rests his forehead against mine.

He breathes out, “Shh. Don’t say it. Now we know why you always knew what I wanted.”

It stings for all of a minute, that he won’t let me, but then I realize that I can’t feel disgust or rejection in his thoughts, only fear. Simple, tangible fear. I huff, raise a hand up the back of his neck, tangling through his soft, beautiful curls. He relaxes once again, and I feel the soundless sigh against my lips before he kisses me again, close-mouthed and sweet.

He’s everything, nudges the edges of my consciousness. Then again, a golden thread of a helpless thought, Everything.

“Alright,” I whisper against his lips, and I can tell he loves that, loves the feel of my lips moving against his as I speak. I can tell he feels it all. So I venture, “That doesn’t mean it’s not true, alright?”

His guard has come back down as he occupies himself tracing my bottom lip with his tongue, following his own body down the path that will lead to desire very soon. Distractedly, he asks, “It doesn’t mean what isn’t true?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

Everything freezes, his arm where it was moving to embrace me, his breath, his mind. And in the center, red-hot fear once again. He pulls back a little, enough to run a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s wondering, Why is he doing this?

He’s picturing me running, turning away from us in fear of what it can become. I pull him closer again, cup a hand around his jaw and I know he can see it in my eyes: the truth. His eyes fall shut, his body in a vulnerable curl around mine.

“Jesus, Draco. You don’t even like me.”

“Of course I don’t like you,” I can barely recognize my voice, it’s gentler than I even knew I had in me. “But I am in love with you.”

God, me too. Me too, me too.

Our bodies are so close I can feel his heart pounding.

“Uh. I’m not sure I —,” he’s starting to say, but his mind keeps beating a stream of Me too, me too.

“You’re forgetting that I can quite literally read your mind, Harry.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” There’s a laugh building up in my chest and I let it escape, catching what he feels when he hears it, the way his thoughts soften, the way he sees me aglow like this, in his arms, because of him.

A warm hand comes up to my chest, resting over my sternum. Where, even though he can’t read my mind, he can find beating proof that I feel this.

“Then you already know what I’m going to say.”

I love you.

I nod, basking in the way my heart races, in the way I know that his heart is racing too. It all felt so impossible only this morning. Years of sneaking around, years of sleeping together and not talking, not daring to hope. And it had always been as easy as me reaching out, trying to connect, without ever knowing I could. But there’s something else, and the lingering dregs of doubt rise up in me when I realize this only speaks for now, for this moment in time.

“I can read your mind, but … I can’t see the future. I don’t know what this means for us, or where it takes us.”

He pauses, and I can tell he’s giving it serious thought. I can see futures he’s picturing, trying on as though trying on new clothes, playing out the idea of making me central to the path he sees for his own life. I can tell the thought feels new and exciting. His green eyes meet mine, and it seems it only took him these few minutes, because the fear is gone, replaced by burgeoning joy. He’s always been the braver one. I pull my awareness back, overwhelmed by the strength of his sudden conviction, and I’m once again just me inside my own mind, looking into his eyes, not knowing what’s behind them.

“To tell you the truth, I never expected we’d come this far,” he says. The back of his fingers is tracing my cheek, and there’s an edge to his voice, a soft kind of adoration that only really comes out when we’re like this, bare to each other. “I mean, maybe that was daft of me, seeing as it’s been four years of … this, but it seemed to me you never wanted to talk about it, and so I didn’t think to consider we could be anything more than what we’ve been already.”

And it’s true. I didn’t think we could ever have more that we already had, so I never gave myself the space to want it. Now, knowing what I know, I discover that the want was always there, that I unknowingly let it build up behind closed doors in my head, and that now that I’ve inched it open, it’s all come barrelling out, a flood tearing the dam to bits.

I nod. “I understand. But now my cards are on the table, and … I already know your answer too, so why don’t we stop fooling ourselves?”

“It’s not that, it’s just … we’ve spent our entire lives driving each other insane.” Not reading his mind anymore, I can still read him with the knowledge of a lifetime. I know him, can tell that he means it, that this is something that’s been bothering him. “Last week you almost throttled me when I suggested we saw that Divination expert before you went actually insane.”

It’s true that I had felt something off in my own head for months, that I wasn’t able to hide it from him because at times it felt like the whole world was pushing its way into my brain and I couldn’t channel it back out. The notion that I might be going insane was not infrequent, and he worriedly suggested alternatives before I finally decided to visit the healer today. But him suggesting divination could nearly have been the last nail in the coffin. I’ve never been a pseudo-science kind of man.

“Oh, you know damn well I’ve never believed in those things.”

Frustration tinges his gaze, turns the corners of his lips downwards. “Well, now it turns out you’re a damn telepath, Draco, so you better fucking start believing.”

I’m so scandalized I lose the ability to speak for a few seconds, and he can tell. Which makes him double down, “I — Merlin, do you see? I drive you insane without even trying. You’re driving me insane too.”

“Okay, okay,” I force out, fighting down the annoyance that he can bring up in me quicker than anybody else. My eyes fall shut and I take a breath, letting myself feel his touch on my skin, the length of his body against mine, the night breeze sharing our bed, around our bodies where the sheets have slipped off. I open my eyes, feel the proud bubble of elation that courses through my veins when he looks at me. “I know we always drive each other insane, but we always end up here, don’t we? Curled up in your bedroom.”

His eyes soften. “That’s true. And in the end I — I mean I do really —“

He still can’t say it. But I know it. I’ve seen it, his doubts, his love.

So it’s easy to be the one to voice it. “I love you too. And I’m also terrified at the notion of being apart, and I’m also sometimes horrified and disgusted to realize I feel this way, and I wonder how I even ended up here when I genuinely despised you back in school.”

“Went both ways,” he huffs. I can’t help but smile.

“I know.”

“But then I’m just — God, Draco, if you’re reading my mind, then you know what I have in my drawer right now.”

Alarmed, I can’t help but let my magic reach out so hard I’m left reeling, and I get an image, front and center. His dresser, third drawer on the left, between a bottle of cologne and an inherited jacket: a black velvet box, no bigger than a snitch. I see him in his mind’s eye, stroking the box, thinking of me. Of us. I see him putting it back in. Taking it back out another time, another day, thinking of me. Months passing, him taking it out on sleepless nights after I slipped away following a tryst, see him stroking it, thinking of me. And I’m afraid. I am. But there’s a stronger, unnamable feeling overpowering the fear by the second, dusting it in a golden glow with the certainty and inevitability of a sunrise. I swallow.

“I do know. But I’m not sure I understand. Didn’t you just say you never expected we’d make it this far?”

“I think it’s more that I didn’t think you’d be willing to try. The thing is that … right here, together, when it’s just us? It just works, I feel like we get each other perfectly. I like that a lot. But none of our friends know we talk, much less that we see each other twice a week. When you see me in public you roll your eyes and look away, and Nev told me the other day that you told Pansy you still hate me.”

I’m still in his mind, and I feel how this hurts him. Has been hurting him. But it’s hypocritical as all hell, he’s never been the sole victim of this. Like everything else between us, it went both ways. My temper flares.

“Oh, don’t start. Nev always tells Pansy that you go on and on about how unbearable I am, and … and I saw you flirting with Hannah last week at The Brewery!”

“What?” His volume rises, and he startles himself. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I — Okay. Didn’t you read my mind then? All I wanted was for you to look at me, even though I knew you wouldn’t, because our friends were around. I’m tired of this, Draco, I’m tired of your walls coming up with me outside them whenever we’re not in bed.”

He’s thinking of that night, of me looking away when he tried to catch my eye, of me leaving early so he wouldn’t have the chance to ask if I wanted to go home with him. It’s too real, too revealing, I don’t know if I want to face having been part — or most — of the reason we didn’t have this earlier.

“I didn’t know I could read your mind back then, it was only last week. How was I supposed to know you felt any kind of serious way about me when —“

“What’s in my drawer, Draco?”

My heart pounds. “I know what’s in your fucking drawer.”

“And what are you going to answer? I can’t read your mind.”

I had been so calm, placing the ball in his side of the court at the beginning of the conversation, but he’s hit it right back at me, hard, and my heart is climbing up my throat. He’s asking, knowing I know everything inside his head, he’s asking because he doesn’t know anything inside mine, and he needs it out loud, needs it spelled out. I have to give it to him. It’s only fair. I swallow, try to force my heart back down.

“What do you think I’m going to answer, Harry? Look at me. You’ve ruined me completely, I’m — ”

“Is that a — ?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes”

Read on AO3

[evenstar0600]

DECEPTION | t.riddle

IN WHICH: lucius malfoy never put tom riddle's diary in ginny weasley's cauldron. instead, history puts a twist on the events and the diary is put on a shelf in flourish and blott's, only to be picked up by an unsuspecting, muggleborn witch in hufflepuff; sixteen-year-old (Name) Tyler.

PAIRING: tom riddle x afab!hufflepuff reader

WARNINGS: dark/yandere(?), mind control, manipulation, animal death, murder, hypnotism, tom riddle is a warning on his own, mental breakdowns, insanity, lady macbeth arc(?), character death, etc

Your hands were shaking. They'd been doing that a lot lately. The skin around your fingernails was red raw and bleeding, due you picking them from stress. Your pupils were blown-wide yet had a distant look to them, as if you weren't in the moment itself at all.

Desparately, you tried to scrub the blood stains that wouldn't go away. They wouldn't wash off. You felt like you were going insane. Like you were losing your mind. How the fuck had it come to this? You knew exactly how it'd all come to this.

It was a dreary August day in the summer of 1992. And your parents decided to take you back-to-school shopping in Diagon Alley for your sixth year at Hogwarts. You recalled going into Flourish and Blott's, dodging through the ever-growing line to see the infamous Gilderoy Lockhart, whom you paid no mind.

You'd spied the even-more infamous Harry Potter in the line somewhere. You were more focused on obtaining your school books for this year when you'd caught sight of it in your peripheral vision. The diary. The vintage-looking, leather-bound diary with it's worn exterior and its off-white parchment pages. And the three-word name at the bottom in a gold-colour. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Something scorched the back of your mind as helpless fingers plucked the diary off the shelf and into your cauldron with a clatter. To others, it was an unnoticed background noise but in your delirium, it sounded like the rolling East Winds of the storm last week. Crashing and forcing itself to be heard. You didn't want to take it but something beyond your control forced you to take it.

For the first couple of days back at Hogwarts, you'd neglected to write in it. Then you did. On the 9th of September, you finally wrote in it. The classic sentence starter of Dear Diary. Then came the reply. Hello (Name) Tyler. You adored Tom and wrote to him as often as you could.

Between classes. During lessons. During meals. After your dorm mates had gone to sleep. Then you began to experience the black-outs. One minute you were walking between classes; the next you found yourself near Hagrid's hut, robes drenched in a strange, crimson substance.

Your mind tried to deny it, the very fact, trying to convince you it was red ink or paint. But in your heart you knew the truth. You were covered in blood. The blood of the school roosters. And the guilt began to slowly eat you up. Consuming your heart. Clouding your mind. Until you began to soothe your madness by writing to your sweet Tom and picking the skin around your fingernails until it bled.

The same sinful red as the roosters' blood. Then the attacks followed swiftly. First, Filch's cat, Mrs Norris was petrified by the Basilik that you set loose on the school. You warned them. Writing the message in blood on the wall. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.

The victims of the Basiliks' petrification began to pile up. Sir Nicholas. Colin Creevey. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Penelope Clearwater. Hermione Granger. And it was all your fault. You'd condemned them to their fates. And the more paranoid you got. You'd hallucinate the blood on your hands. Scrubbing your hands for hours on end until they were red raw, just to get the fucking stain out.

You had your Tom to comfort you all. To soothe your ever-growing madness and paranoia. He'd appear to you sometimes. The tall, dark and handsome boy with his dark brown locks and insatiable smile. Then you figured it out. It was him. It was all him.

You'd pointed an accusatory finger at him, shaking like a leaf. "You..." you'd muttered in horror before meeting his piercing gaze with blown-wide pupils, "It's you!".

In a fleeted attempt to save yourself and anyone else, you stormed to the Girls' Lavatory on the third floor and threw the diary into the toilet. Thinking yourself safe, you relaxed. But you shouldn't have let your guard down. Tom had basically imprinted himself on you.

You always recalled his beautiful brown eyes piercing your soul, the very image was burnt into your memory. And no matter how many times you tried to forget, he always. came. back. You'd broken into Gryffindor Tower and basically ransacked the one of the Boys' Dormitories until you retrieved it.

Your diary.

You weren't yourself anymore. People around you noticed too. What happened to (Name)? Was something that was whispered among peers. Your bestfriend, Lily Peterson, had noticed too. You brushed her off, pushing her away. Then, tired of waiting, Tom summoned you down to the Chamber of Secrets.

His initial plan was to drain your life force so he could live again. But things changed. As the product of a love potion, he couldn't properly feel true, honest love but rather a warped version of it. Dark love. Obsessive love. Unjust love. His love was cruel. His touch was cruel. And he was cruel.

And you were his. No matter how you tried to stop him, you were always going to be his. "Mine," he'd murmur, holding your weak form against his own, carressing your face, "All mine,".

You'd tried to fight him off. But to no avail. You'd lost. Now, the world was going to feel Voldemort's wrath. And he'd start with the figure of twelve-year-old Harry Potter marching into the Chamber of Secrets.

[cutielando]

Hello can I request draco with a gryffindor reader who happens to be the daughter of both Ares and Aphrodite. How would her parents react when their daughter wanted to marry a former death eater after the battle of hogwarts?

ungodly romance ~ draco malfoy

my masterlist

Being the daughter of two Gods came with many difficulties.

With your status came responsibilities, obligations and burdens. Things were expected of you, you needed to reflect well on your parents and your kind.

Studying at Hogwarts had been your way out, your one place where you could be yourself without people breathing down your neck, without being judged for every little thing that you would do. It was your escape.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, that place had forever disappeared from your life. You were back in your closed-off world, living to please the people around you, make them proud and give them someone to show-off and brag about.

However, there was one person whom you reconnected with that gave you your freedom back.

Draco Malfoy.

During the war, you had had to cut off contact with him because of your opposing positions in the war, your parents having forbidden you from associating with Death Eaters or anyone who might tarnish their stellar reputation, as a matter of fact.

You and Draco had just secretly started dating before the war broke out, cutting contact being the most hurtful thing you've had to do. Having just found someone to love you for who you were, and immediately having to let them go.

When you reconnected after the war, it seemed like two pieces of a puzzle reunited after a long time without each other. You finally felt like you were at home again, safe and sound in the arms of the one you loved.

There was just one problem.

Your parents.

The fear that crippled your heart at the thought of them meeting Draco was paralyzing. You knew how they felt about Death Eaters, and despite Draco leaving those days behind, that wouldn't matter to them. He would still be evil in their eyes.

Draco was the one who insisted that he meet them. He was positive that he could change their minds and make them see that he was good for you, that those days were long behind him and he wasn't evil at heart as they had concluded.

You weren't so sure, but you figured you had nothing more to lose. The worst your parents could do was lock you away for good, but it wasn't anything that you hadn't previously been through.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" you asked Draco for the twentieth time as you stopped before the grand door that sat in front of you.

You had been very evasive with details about your boyfriend when you told your parents you would be bringing him to dinner, which sparked their curiosity even more.

But not in a good way.

"Love, we have to get this done. We can't hide away forever" he caressed your cheek, sensing how nervous you truly were.

"Yes, we can. There's nothing stopping us. They don't care about my life anyway, and I know what they're going to say already. This is all really unnecessary" you tried to reason with him, trying to convince him just how bad this idea was in your eyes.

"I want to meet your parents, and regardless of what they say, I'm not giving up on us. Whatever comes our way, we'll deal with it together" looking into his gray eyes, you felt comfort.

Without realizing it, you found yourself nodding and taking his hand, finally entering the place you had been dreading to enter for the past few days.

Immediately, as soon as you stepped foot into the house, servants bombarded you left and right, not even sparing Draco a second glance as they focused on you.

"Master and Mistress are awaiting you in the grand ballroom" one of the servants informed you before disappearing with the others into another room.

You glanced once more at Draco before letting out a big breath, and beginning your journey towards the ballroom.

Once stopped in front of the entrance, you raised your hand to knock, but the doors opened on their own before you got the chance.

"Hello Mother, hello Father" you greeted your parents, both of them conversing with their backs turned to you.

"Sit" your mother's sweet yet icy voice spoke, not turning around yet.

You glanced at Draco with the corner of your eyes, but followed suit nonetheless.

Both of you took a seat next to each other, clearing your throat and keeping your hand clasped in his.

Your parents, Ares and Aphrodite, God of war and Goddess of love and beauty, now stood facing you, eyeing you down wearily. You were accustomed to their intense gaze, but it hurt Draco to look at them.

"Who have you brought here?" your mother asked, her eyes scanning your boyfriend.

By the way she was looking at him, you could already sense her suspicion.

"This is my boyfriend, Draco. Draco, these are my parents"

"It's an honor to meet you both," Draco said nervously.

Your father stared him down, cracking his knuckles.

"What is this young man doing in my house? Do you have no respect for us? Don't you know what he did in the war?" the booming voice of your father echoed off the walls, his fist hitting the long table that stood between you.

You didn't even flinch, accustomed already to his outbursts. There was a reason why he was the God of war, after all.

Clearing your throat, you held your head high and looked at your father.

"I am aware of Draco's actions during the war, but I am also aware of the fact that he did not participate willingly in any of them. He was being forced by his father, who is now residing in Azkaban for his crimes. I know you despise the lot, but Draco is not like them. He never was and he never will. I ask of you that you give him a chance and get to know him before making any judgements" your father was fuming, but you could your mother smiling from the corner of your eyes.

She had always encouraged you to fight for the ones you love, and this was the first time you had really stood up to your father like this.

"I don't want to hear this right now" he turned around and stormed out of the room, something you had known was going to happen.

"Don't worry, my dear. I will speak to your father. Draco, consider yourself welcomed to the family" your mother caressed his shoulder before graciously following after your father.

Left alone in the room, you let out a big sigh of relief, not quite believing what had just happened.

"I told you so" Draco teased, bumping your shoulders.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

thank you for requesting !!

i changed things up a bit as i went along with it, hope that’s okay !!

i hope you like this, i had fun writing it !!

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