#harry potter Fanfiction

[machiavellli]

Possessive!Theo that one night gets completely filled with anger as he sees you dancing with someone else at a party and simply starts shouting things in Italian you can’t comprehend. He slams you at the wall, his face only millimetres away from you, his gaze dark, his words bitter and your hands pressed up. His hot breath against the frigid wall. The maniac appearance looks so good on him.

“Che cazzo pensavi di fare? Tieni ancora almeno due cazzo di neuroni eh?” he bawled pointing at my head with disgust, but I kept my mouth shut. 

My silence only made him angrier, and as I started to lower my gaze, he grabbed my face with one of his hands. The other hand harshly slammed against the stone wall behind me.

“Look at me. Dammi. Na. Cazzo. Di. Risposta.”

“Porca puttanta.” the hand slammed again.

“Ti corromperò fino al punto di farti piangere. Oh tesoro mio, piangerai lacrime amare pregando inutilmente che io smetta. Sei mia. La gentilezza è na cosa finita. Do you understand? Cazzo vaf-” Those were the last words he heavily shouted before kissing me with pure burning lust. Definitely the start of a great night.

[leascorner]

f.g.w. | Trouble

Summary:  After the war, Fred met Y/N at St Mungo's Hospital. At that time, they both thought the other was trouble. In the end, they both discovered all the meanings of that word.

Pairing:  Fred Weasley x f!healer!reader

Warnings: Mention of death and near death experience, injuries, blood, probably incorrect medical notions, some swearing, happy ending

Word Count: 5.1k

Masterlist

“Uh-oh”, George said, practically running from the front of the store up to the cashier counter. “Trouble.”

His twin brother had no time to ask what was going on; the doorbell rang, indicating a new customer had entered the shop. Fred blinked and suddenly, George was somehow nowhere to be seen. Steady steps coming up to the register resonated in the boutique that was as usual quite empty on this Tuesday morning. No need for him to look to the front door, he knew he was indeed up for trouble.

Turning to face his worst nightmare - a woman named Y/N, furiously making her way to him - Fred put his best customer face on. Her face was wearing the same frown as the day he met her at Saint Mungo's Hospital. He, that day, had been called in after some kid had used one of his products out of its original purpose and nobody there could work out how to reverse back the spell.

Holding his breath, Fred watched her walking toward him until she made it to the counter and laid on it what seemed to have been one of these kid magic wands they sold at the store. From the state of it, Fred knew he was in for a lecture… Again.

“This was up someone’s arse.”

“Godric!” Fred immediately shouted. He had seen a lot of things - their customers were somehow as inventive as they were - but he had never expected such things. With a swift move of his wrist, he made it disappear. “How did it even get there?”

“I did not ask!” she shouted back.

Y/N had been an official graduated healer for nearly a year now. She had started her curriculum the year before the war started, just after graduating from Hogwarts, and sometimes after a twenty-four-hours shifts like the one she just had, she was regretting the black magic spells injuries. Nothing compared to the lot of injuries she was dealing with from the twins jokes shop products.

“Seriously, please just-” she sighed, passing a hand on her face out of frustration. “It’s all I deal with all day, I can’t anymore.”

In that last year, Fred and she had become some kinds of acquaintances - Y/N was regularly paying the twins a visit at the end of her shifts. Though he acted annoyed most of the time, he was actually quite fond of her. His favourite thing about her was how she would respond to anything he would throw at her. He did not even know her that long, yet he already knew just how to push her buttons.

So, of course, he couldn’t resist doing it again today.

“You should see what we have in the works, then.”

Frown quite not leaving the lines of her face yet, she followed him in the back shop where he meticulously explained her all about this very new product he had thought about that same morning – a new invention that not even George knew about it.

Biting his inner cheek, he watched impatiently the line between her eyebrows grew even deeper as she read the parchment with the ingredients for the product: a potion. This was not the first time he had pitched a new product idea to her. In the past, George had even insisted they presented her with some of their riskier ideas. She had never turned down any of them, even encouraging them to work on them further - though she had them promise to send a patronus to her if they were testing anything she thought would be deadly. Fred was convinced that, despite her grumpy attitude, she actually quite enjoyed being asked for help.

“You can’t mix this quantity of octopus powder and erumpent horn together,” she finally spoke.

“Why not?”

Y/N looked back at Fred, her eyes scanning his face to know if he was being serious. As if he ever had been serious. “Have you seriously never listened to anything Snape ever taught you?” Quite frankly, he had listened to it much more than he would admit, but he wouldn’t tell her that. “I am serious, Fred,” she scowled.

“Alright, alright!” Fred rose his hands in defence. He knew from the way Y/N sighed that her concern for his own physical integrity was genuine. Just like probably everyone else, she was aware of what had happened to him during the battle of Hogwarts – he had a severe brain injury that left him in the hospital for months and from which he was still recovering. Unlike anyone else, she didn’t remind him constantly what a little fragile thing he was and how he must be taking it easy. Though he probably wouldn’t admit it to her face, he was grateful to her.

Fred was rather interested on what she was thinking of his new idea, so he knew better than to continue annoying her. She made him nervous taking her sweet time to examine the parchment. He couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing or not. She had been more enthusiastic when George and he pitched her other ideas. Perhaps he had just gotten himself overexcited about this new product; perhaps it was just bad.

“So, what do you think?” Fred asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“It sounds good,” she reassured him, without looking at him. “It’s the ingredients I am not sure about. I’m not sure it would work,” she mumbled, still focus on the parchment, and Fred could nearly see the cogs of her brain working behind her eyes.

“I’ll work on this,” he assured.

Y/N only nodded in answer. Fred could see something was bugging her, but she couldn’t quite tell what. He studied the expression of her face; how her frown had changed – from the grumpy one to one of             concentration. He noticed how she would scrunch her nose ever so slightly as she focused as well.

He thought she looked cute like that and immediately slapped himself internally for having such thoughts. Y/N was not cute, she was the pain in his ass that would show up every other day at the shop to lecture him. She was simply annoying and way smarter than him though she was not one to rub it in everybody’s face – he was pretty sure she had been that person to cry after a test as she supposedly failed, but still got an ‘A’.

They stayed in silence a couple more minutes, Y/N still trying to figure out what was missing in the potion recipe, Fred watching her every move, before the doorbell rang again. A new customer had come in, breaking the spell.

“I have to go,” Y/N stated, after checking the time. She gave the parchment back to Fred and watched as he abandoned him on top of his messy desks – it was so messy she wasn’t sure he would be able to find it again. “Just put some kinds of warning for the other thing.”

“External use only, got it.”

She rolled her eyes, but still smiled softly before bidding goodbye and leaving him alone in the back shop.

A few weeks later, on one of the last days of January, Fred had just finished the grant post-holidays inventory when he found the parchment again. With the rush of the end of the year, he had totally forgotten about it.

Diagon Alley was covered in snow at that time of the year and the weather was so bad that no soul would have dared to put even a toe outside in the cold. He knew he wouldn’t have any customers today, so he decided to put his time to a better use and test out this new product.

He gathered all of the ingredients from the reserve and got to work. Everything went well until it was down to the last ingredient: Octopus Powder. Taking the bag and measuring the exact amount he needed, he suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Y/N and how she insisted this amount of Octopus Powder would be too dangerous. He had heard her concern, yet he was still sure it was going to be fine.

Just before adding it to the mix, he finally had second thoughts; just in case, it wouldn't hurt to have a patronus ready. So, he reached out for his wand and materialized a patronus, requesting for it to find Y/N if anything was to happen to him. With his patronus magpie on his shoulder, he didn’t even think twice this time and poured the entire amount of powder in his cauldron. The mixture started boiling quite aggressively and Fred braced himself for it to explode, but nothing happened.

When the boiling stopped, his only thought was that he just couldn’t wait to tell Y/N how wrong she had been– though he wouldn’t admit it to her, but he still had sighed out of relief everything went fine. He turned to his patronus, ready to dismiss it as everything was fine.

He had barely taken his eyes off the potion that it suddenly exploded; his body was thrown into the air as if he was a paper doll.

“Can you tell me your name?”, Y/N asked as she made Fred follow the light coming out of her wand. He had been awake from the coma following his accident for a good thirty minutes now.

“Fredrick Gideon Weasley.”

Y/N nodded, watching him as she made another back-and-forth movement with her hand. Pupillary response to light, checked. Pupillary response to the dark, checked. Equal pupils’ size, checked. She was mentally ticking every part of the post-concussion protocol she knew by heart; everything so far seemed to be normal.

Yet, she could still feel her heart beating furiously in her chest. She had experienced utter panic when his patronus found her, something she had never felt before – even during the darkest time of the war. She had been one of the first to apparate within the shop and found him in what was left of their workshop. She had heard his troubled breathing under the bits of stones, wood and plasterboard, and for one split second, she had thought she would never hear him tease her ever again. She still could feel how his mother, Molly, grabbed at her once she got to Saint Mungo's Hospital, as if she was a lifebuoy. How would she have liked to let her know everything would be alright at that time, but she herself couldn’t even trust her words.

It had been a long couple of days before Fred finally woke up. She had stayed with him during all of her breaks. She had made sure his family was alright and that they had all the food they needed without leaving his side. All while she, on the other side, ate very little – her stomach was in knots from the worry. Even if she tried, Y/N couldn’t shake the memories out of her head. The image of a very blank unconscious Fred covered in blood was there, printed on the back of her eyelids, every single time she closed her eyes, so she didn’t sleep either.

That night, his family had finally left his side after a lot of convincing from Y/N that everybody would feel better after a good night of sleeps in their own bed. As she was just coming in to check his vitals yet again, she had found him there, eyes wild open. She knew she shouldn’t be treating one of her acquaintances, but she was one of the few healers on call that night and she only couldn’t care less anyway. He was alive. That was all that matters.

Putting away her wand, she thought of what was next on the protocol and continued: “When were you born?”

“First of April, nineteen-seventy-eight.”

“What were-”

“I know the deal,” Fred sighed, he had already been there after all. He knew she was just going to ask him stupid questions to make sure he had no memory lost; he could at least save them the trouble. “I’ve got four brothers, a twin brother, a sister. I left Hogwarts before even graduating to open a joke shop with my brother. ‘Been doing that twenty-four seven ‘til now. I’ve mixed Octopus Powder and Erumpent horn, hence I ended up here.”

Y/N eyed him, a stern look on her face as she realised what caused his accident. After they had found Fred, they tried understanding what happened. If they had gathered that he was preparing a potion, they weren’t sure what really had caused an explosion. Never had she thought about their earlier conversation a couple of months ago.

“And you can go ahead and tell me I told you so.”

She kept silent, not knowing what to say. She was angry with him still doing what she had explicitly warned him about – mixing this quantity of those two ingredients. She – and probably everyone he knew – had had the scare of their life. But lecturing him now wouldn’t change the outcome. The good thing was that he had been clever enough to send a patronus, so he had been found in time. It could have been way – way – worse.

Not trusting her words, she made him tilt his head so she could have a proper look at the bandage wrapped around his head. His wound had not bled since the last time the dressing was changed, which was also good thing. He had woken up and was talking. He didn’t have any memory loss and was responsive to all neurological exams. He was going to be alright, she tried to reassure herself. Everything was going to be alright.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” she spoke softly as she helped him to settle back comfortably in the bed and tucking him in under the covers. He grimaced when one of her hands brushed his side, but immediately gave her a reassuring smile when he saw the way her body stiffen. If he was not in any pain, he was definitively uncomfortable. His condition was much worse than he thought it was.

“How bad is it?”

“You hit your head pretty badly, broke a couple of bones and were unconscious for a more than two days now.” She explained quickly. “Considering your history, they want to keep you a couple of days to monitor any brain injuries.”

“Just great,” he sank into his pillows. When he had thought he had seen the hospital enough for his entire lifetime, here he was again. It had taken him months to learn again to do anything by himself and he did fell as if he wasted a lot of his life in the hospital getting treatment. His whole family dynamic had shifted around him and though he liked them all very much, he had just become fed up with them all eventually. And now, it was like going back to square one and starting all over. He couldn’t let that happen.

Y/N eyed him sternly, clearly judging his attitude. Whatever lucky star he was born under, he should rather be thanking it. Not everybody would survive two major head injuries. Not everyone had a family willing to keep watch over him for two days straight…

Checking the time, Y/N realized it was already time to get back to work. She was much more relieved to go and leave him knowing he was awake, talking and had a good chance of being out of the woods. She tucked him in the bed a little more tightly, making sure he couldn’t escape the sheets before starting to leave.

“You scared the hell out of your mom,” she stated, eyeing him and his grumpy expression. “I’m going to send her an owl. You better get some sleep; they’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“Y/N?” Fred called after her. She stopped at the door, hand on the handle, only turning her head to him. “Thank you.”

“Did my mom make you check on me?” Fred asked Y/N, who was currently checking out the shelves of their love potions. He was glad she finally decided to be an actual customer for once, but she should have chosen any other section; this one was only ever visited by fourteen-years-old teenagers.

“What? No!” She nearly shouted, face growing hot. Fred eyed her with a knowing look and a smirk, she was definitively a bad liar. “Maybe a little. But in my defence, she is a very persuasive woman.”

Fred laughed softly; that he would know. The last time he saw her – and it was less than forty-hours ago, she had made him eat two servings of her pasta gratin as, according to her own words, he was skinnier than ever. Fred was pretty sure his weight was stable, but he still happily obliged. He knew when to choose his battle now and this wasn’t one.

“You don’t have to, you know,” he spoke as he leant against the shelf, crossing his arms, as Y/N continued to pretend she was interested in those shiny purple vials. “Promise I’ll listen now when you say not to mix up stuff.”

“I bet you would,” she snorted lightly. She had seen him in the hospital in the next days after he was out of the coma, and she had seen him those last few weeks when he was obliged to rest. It hadn’t been easy, and Y/N would lie if she didn’t say she had found him so miserable every time she had visited. She knew he had learned his lesson this time. “I don’t mind anyway. Unless… you know? You do mind…”

“No!” He cried out and cleared his throat after he realized how loud – and a bit desperate – he had been. “No, I don’t mind,” he repeated again, his voice much softer this time.

“Cool, cool,” Y/N answered, not daring to meet his eyes.

“It would be hm… That would make…”

Y/N frowned as she took her eyes off the WonderWitch products shelves she was still investigating while Fred had gone to help a customer - whatever moment they just had was long gone.

She observed Fred struggled to perform a simple addition for the customer that was buying two packs of fireworks. He was stuttering and couldn’t put together a full sentence; it was clear something was wrong. And with his history, it could be very bad.

She decided to step in to help him. Fred let her push him ever so slightly on his left so she could take his place behind the counter and handle the customer as if nothing was happening.

“That would make 10 galleons, Sir,” She accepted his coins and put them in the cash register with a swift movement of her wrist just like she had seen Fred do a hundred times before. “And for the pretty lady, we’ve always got lollipops under the counter. No funny business, they are cherry flavoured. What do you say?”

The little girl gave a look at her father before accepting the lollipops Y/N was handing her. She thanked her in the cutest way and Y/N would have liked to interact with her more if she wasn’t pressed by time.

“Thank you for shopping with us, have a lovely afternoon,” she smiled at them. She watched them turn to leave and immediately reached out to Fred to lead him into the back shop. “Alright, sit down.”

She helped him sit down on his office chair before having a full look at him. His eyes were groggy, and he was as white as a sheet - at least even more so than he usually was.

“How is the head?” Y/N inquired; her infamous frown had made its way back on her forehead.

“It hurts,” he mumbled; he seemed to be ashamed of it – as if he could do anything about it.

Y/N’s mind was running through all the medical explanations.

This could be the symptom of a brain swelling, but the trauma was weeks ago so it wasn’t most likely, and they would have caught up on it already.

It could be the beginning of a stroke, a part of his brain that stopped working for no reason. His mouth didn’t warp, and he seemed to be able to move his body correctly. He was still able to speak as well and had no facial paralysis. So, she crossed that option out.

He could also just be tired, which would make sense since he was already fully back to work only weeks after he had been cleared and despites his healers order to keep it low. Magic or not, bodies still needed time to heal. “I think it’s time for a little break, yes?”

Y/N went to fetch Lee to cover for Fred. She then managed to get the redhead up the tiny stairs and to the flat he shared with his twin brother just above the shop. He crashed on his couch, eyes sleepy, and Y/N went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and something to eat. The fridge was empty, but she managed to find some biscuits in the cupboard and make them tea.

“I don’t even know why I am surprised there is no food in this fridge,” she told him as she handed him a cup.

“Don’t even need it when everybody is showing up at my door with dinner. They are just passing by, they say. With a plate of lasagna or a pie. You folks need to start lying better than that.”

“They care about you,” Y/N spoke softly as she brought her cup to her lips.

“I would do the same if that was one of them. I know.” He sighed, passing a hand on his face. “Godric, if it was George, I wouldn’t leave him alone one second. I just wish they would leave me alone for once, you know?”

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself back to the small flat above the joke shop. She was meeting Fred and George before going to The Burrow. The whole family was gathering to celebrate the twins’ birthday and Molly had insisted for Y/N to come as well. Fred was still banned from apparating on his own and they never were too much of two to do it with him.

George and she each positioned themselves on one side of Fred. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her tote bag with their gifts well secured on her other shoulder. Fred hesitantly wrapped his own arm around her shoulders, sending her a troubled look as if he was a teenager boy seeing a girl for the first time. That was probably the closest they had ever been and even if it was nothing, it still made Fred’s heart race in his chest. Y/N interpreted this as his nervousness of apparating and gave him a warm smile before focusing to do it at George’s order.

At The Burrow she met familiar faces, all wearing a much less worry than the last time she had seen them when Fred was still in a coma at the hospital. As soon as she stepped in the house, she was caught in a whirlwind of embraces, most of them muttering in her ears small thank-you’s for looking after their brother as they hugged. Fred got the same treatment even though, from the look on his face, he was less than thrilled. It was all overwhelming so many people, in such a small place, all ever so happy to be here altogether – and especially happy for him to be with them.

After his mother released him from a good five-minutes hug, Y/N gave him a thumbs-up for support to which he rolled his eyes to answer. Thankfully, his niece and nephew were soon to beg him and George to play with them and the whole family focus turned to the children.

“Godric, would you leave me live in peace for once? I am not made of glass; I won’t break. I’m not dead. I am not dying. I am fine.”

Lunch had gone well until after the main course. Molly had gone to the kitchen to get the birthday cake she made, and Fred had insisted he’d go to help her – after all this was his birthday celebration and as always, she had done a tremendous work all by herself. One of his siblings had brought up that he should rather stay and that they would do it for him. It had been only a short sentence that had Fred literally exploded. He was up from his chair, yelling; anger had turned his face as red as a tomato.

Molly stopped on her track, a few meters from the table, cake in her hands, clearly mortified. The silence that followed his cries left everyone uncomfortable. The air was tensed. Y/N, sat at his side, tried reaching out to this arm. She wanted him to realize he had gone too far; he needed to take a step back and ease the tension a bit. But he just pushed her hand away quite harshly, directing his anger to her. “And you! Don’t you have anything better to do than try to fix and save people? I am not dying now, am I? So just find some stray orphan kittens to take care of and leave me the fuck alone.”

Y/N watched Fred storm out of the room. Her cheeks were hot from the embarrassment and her eyes were wide open from what Fred had just yelled at her. She knew it was just too much for him; the war had left its mark and his accident had just made him live it all other again. He didn’t want to be thinking about it every day. He didn’t want everybody to fear he would just disappear. He just wanted to be alive, and happy. And he wanted them to be alive and happy… and not to worry about him.

She knew why he said what he did. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel her heart stang by his words. Behind his anger, there was still a little bit of truth.

Perhaps she was also just too much; she had imposed her presence to him even though they were merely acquaintance. She had acted as if they were great friends, a friend with a medical degree that scrutinized his every little move to make sure he was alright. Perhaps, she had not given him any air to breathe, acting exactly just like every other member of his family though he had specifically voiced he didn’t want that. Perhaps she also had a saviour complex, after enduring so many patients’ loss during the war and being traumatized by it, that she just wanted to fix him because she knew she could.

“I, uh-” Y/N started, gazing around the table, “I think that’s my clue.”

“Y/N, darling…”

“That’s fine, Mrs Weasley. He needed to get this out of his chest, I guess.” She went to grab her coat by the door, as Molly and everybody else tried to stop her from leaving. She was too upset by what had happened to even bother to put her coat on, even if it was still freezing outside, despite it being already April. She was so disturbed she almost went through the door without saying goodbye, but stopped on the doorstep to turn to the table she couldn’t even see from the tears building up in her eyes. “Thank you again for the food. I’ll see you all.”

Two days after that, Y/N found Fred at her door, waiting for her to come home.

After crying all night about what happened at lunch, she had kept herself busy with a 24-hours shift. It was the first time since then she was coming home and she found him, leaned back against the corridor wall in front of her door.

She gave him a dirty look when she reached his level. She was exhausted from her shift - a shift during which everything that could go wrong actually did - and also from the very little sleep she had got in those two days after Fred’s outburst. This was the first time they were seeing each other. She hadn’t reached out to him, willing to give him space as he so needy apparently. One part of her had hoped he’d send an owl to apologize, but she didn’t get anything.

From the apologetic look on his face, he wanted to have this discussion now. Unfortunately for him, she just wasn’t in the mood, so she just ignored him and went to unlock her door. He still stepped closer and called after her.

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she stated as she wiped her foot on the doormat.

“My heart hurts a little, can you have a look at it?”

Y/N turned to him to scan his face; she didn’t know if he was serious or not. She searched into his eyes to try and find his well-known playful sparkle. When she didn’t find any, she sighed and opened the door, instructing him to get in. Following him in, she let her coat and bags by the door and made him seat on one of her kitchen chairs.

She listened to his heart with the help of her wand, making sure to listen to multiple heartbeat sounds and see if anything was wrong. When she was done, she put her wand away, still refusing to look at him.

“So, what’s your diagnosis?”

Y/N could hear the smile in his voice; of course, there was most likely nothing wrong with him. He wouldn’t have gone to hers if he was truly believing something wasn’t right, he would have gone to the hospital. She sighed, passing a hand on her face from the frustration. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“I am sorry.” He grabbed her hand and Y/N finally looked at him. She could tell from his tight smile and the way his eyes desperately searched for hers that he was indeed sorry. “I didn’t mean anything I said back there. You never treated me like I was made of glass or like I would just breakdown any minutes. You went through your own stuff, and this was unfair of me to tell you any of those things.”

Y/N nodded slowly as a way of accepting his apology. Fred smiled, relieved she was no longer mad about him, and she smiled weakly in return.

“Does your heart really hurt?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face. “Would you kiss it better if it did?”

[lushaletta]

love and its lethal consequences / tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

content: muggleborn!reader, dark!tom, mild swearing, violence

summary: tom grapples between his dark desires and his unlikely affection for you. it’s deadly.

a/n: part 3 to this lil series :> pls lmk if u guys r enjoying so far!! idk how long i want this to be but we shall see where it goes

read the previous parts: one two

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Tom has decided. And once Tom decides something, nothing will get in his way.

You are to be his.

The murder would be the easiest part of all. Twice, now, he’s done it. First with that disgusting, grumbling Myrtle and second with his nasty father he can’t even be bothered to think about.

Third time is always the charm. He has it all figured out.

“Tommy!” you beam, following the daily routine. You slide over a treacle tart. “You liked these ones last time.”

He accepts the dessert wordlessly. He’s too deep in thought. You grin.

A few more moments of silence pass and you begin to be irritated by the lack of noise. You have to fill the air up somehow. “Have I told you about Murph yet?”

He’s almost sickened by the name itself. So much so that he can’t stomach the lovely tart your mother has made for him. You’re on a nickname basis now? “You have not.”

You haven’t told him anything about this boy, but he already knows everything. He won’t have to worry about this foul beast for much longer, so he’ll tolerate the giddiness in your eyes for now.

“We’ve just gone on a date. I think it went well, you know? He’s sweet. Opens the door for me, matches pace. That type of thing.”

Tom could do that too if that’s what you really wanted. “How wonderful,” he deadpans.

You’d be a fool not to notice the way his eye twitched when you said the word “date” or the poorly hidden sarcasm he laced in his speech.

“I think our next one is this Wednesday,” you continue.

He’s absolutely fucking repulsed. If he didn’t know any better, he’d march on over to that moron’s room and take care of it himself. But there’s a plan, procedure to be followed. And Tom is nothing if not methodical.

“I can’t believe it! The both of us have dates this week. What even are our lives now?” Camilla cheers, leaning back in her seat.

“I don’t think Tom is very happy about mine.”

She raises a brow. “That’s because Murphy isn’t pure. I’m telling you, Riddle’s lot is psychotic.”

“Okay, I’m not a fan of them either, but Tom knows I’m not pure. He’s been perfectly pleasant.”

“He hardly speaks!” she retorts.

You roll your eyes and urge her to continue reading her book. She complies. Camilla’s never been very argumentative.

As she settles in the pages, all entranced by the words, you lean back in your chair. It is a strange twist of fate that you’re now friends with Tom, but despite Camilla’s warnings, you can’t get yourself to leave. It’s a comfortable trap.

“Hello,” Tom says from behind you as you swing your feet on the railings.

You don’t skip a beat. “Hi!”

Tom knows by now that he can’t surprise you.

The echoing chambers of Hogwarts are bathed in soft moonlight, and no one else is around. Tom is usually by himself at this time. You only steal each other’s afternoons.

“You know,” you muse, breaking the comfortable quiet that settled between you. “You’re very important to me.”

Tom clears his throat. He’s never really been important to anyone. He swallows. “Likewise.”

He’s avoiding your gaze. You think it’s cute. His lips quirk into a faint smile, a rare glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes.

Suddenly, you study his face, trying to unravel the mysteries hidden within. He’s more withdrawn recently. Even quieter, if that’s possible. You suppose it has something to do with Murph but you never can be too sure when it comes to him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“I like the view.” He sighs.

Tom is not a good person. Far from it. Your friend realises it but you don’t. You’re a glimmer of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume him, that’s already consumed him. You’re both refuge from his despair and a constant reminder. He finds solace in your company and he hates it but now he has no choice. He can’t bring himself to kill you. He knows he never will and so it has to be this way.

It will hurt you, undoubtedly. It will make him more terrible than he already is.

Time is creeping up on him. You’re growing closer with that wretched Ravenclaw and the longer he waits, the more you will be affected.

“Murphy Atthill.”

He turns around at the call of his name and can’t help but feel uneasy. Tom’s presence tends to do that. “Riddle? What can I do for you?” he asks politely. He isn’t very good at masking his anxiety.

Tom casts the Killing Curse and he feels the unmistakable split of his soul as he recites haunting Latin incantations. He knows there’s no going back.

A chilling sense of finality looms over him and yet it weighs light on his conscience. All for the better, this is. In fact, it’s a twisted sense of satisfaction that he feels knowing that the deed is done. He knows he’s crossed a line with you from which there is no return,

But Murphy’s eyes lifeless are much prettier that way.

taglist for this series!! @mariamyousef702 @enidths @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @girlogies @unwrittenletter @helalokithor

[marauroon]

I love your new fic Hypothermic and the whole trope of Jamie being a big cuddle bug and the best friend trope always has a chokehold on me. Can you write a romantic bestfriend!james maybe about a swim in the black lake or something with a summery vibe please (I miss summer so much rn)

BALL GAME — J.POTTER

James makes the most of being your favourite person to convince you out of the castle and into the lake.

WARNINGS: james picks the reader up at one point

james potter x fem!reader || fluff || 1.3k || requests open!

a/n: best friend james has my whole entire heart i fear

Sometimes James is half convinced you’re a vampire, that your skin is so delicate that even a pinprick of sunlight will burn you into a pile of ash.

If it weren’t for your ostentatious love of the summer season—and the privilege James has as your best friend—he’d be surprised you even agreed to his request at all.

Yet there you were, sat pretty underneath the shade of one of the small willow trees lining the water with a book in your lap and a picnic blanket separating you from the grass.

Was he a little sad you’d decided not to join the group in splashing around? A little. Was he going to ask you again later with his puppy dog eyes so you couldn’t refuse him? Probably.

But right now he was content with watching how your eyebrows furrowed and left small wrinkles between your eyes as you read a particularly interesting paragraph, and the slight fluttering of your hair against the small breeze.

A sharp splash of water to the back of his head tore James’ attention from watching the way your eyes scanned the pages of your novel with your nose scrunched in a mix of surprise and disgust at whatever was printed in the ink, and he turned around with an exaggerated gesture of annoyance only to be met with another splash straight to his face.

Whilst the icy water was a nice relief from the nearly 30° heat, it was still cold.

“What was that for?” James pulls his glasses from his face to try and wipe the water droplets from the lenses with his thumb, turning Sirius’ face into a blurry pale blob in the process.

“We’re picking teams for a makeshift volleyball game? You’d know that if you stopped gawking over there like a dog in heat,” James can vaguely make out Sirius crossing his arms over his chest, and lo and behold, when he slots his glasses back on, Sirius’ expression is just as smug as he expected it to be.

“I wasn’t ‘gawking’ anywhere you twat,” James sends a splash of water in Sirius’ direction as a retaliation. “I was just appreciating the fact that she actually joined us, that’s all,”

“Appreciating her face you mean,” Sirius’ tone matches his smugness perfectly, and James lets out a short scoff with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re such a dog Pads,”

“You know it,” Sirius shoots James a wink and he pretends to gag. “Seriously though, stop staring so we can play,”

“Orrr,” Marlene wades over to the two to interrupt the conversation, laying her arm over Sirius’ shoulder. “You can go over there and convince her to join us, we’re uneven,”

James shoots another glance in your direction with an uncertain hum. “I don’t think we should disturb her,”

“We can’t play 4 to 3 James,” Marlene tilts her head and shakes it lightly. “So go bat your eyelashes and use your favouritism to get us another player,”

She gives a dismissive wave of her hand and Sirius joins her, James sending the two a very unimpressed look as he drags himself out of the water to speak to you.

It’s not the new source of shade from the sun that informs you of James’s presence, nor is it the sight of him sitting down cross-legged beside you in your peripheral vision. It’s the water droplets that sprinkle the right side of your face and the pages of your book that give him away.

“James—” You let out a low groan to voice your disapproval at him shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair, something that very clearly didn’t work very well as water continued to drip from his curls onto his shoulders, disappearing into the already soaked fabric of his t-shirt.

“Sorry sorry collateral damage I swear,” He throws up his hands in an immediate surrender, and you let out a small scoff with a shake of your head as you pull his glasses from the bridge of his nose to dry them on the hem of your t-shirt.

“Having fun then?” You leave your book on the blanket to shift onto your knees, carefully placing James’ glasses back on his face so they properly catch behind his ears.

James nods with a smile at how gentle your fingers are as they brush the sides of his cheeks when you return them to your lap. “Yeah, we’re about to play a round of volleyball, fancy joining us?”

You scrunch up your nose slightly and he can immediately anticipate your answer. “…no?”

“Awe come on we’re uneven,” James tilts his head as he gestures towards the others in the water, a small pout etched onto his face. “We can’t play 3 to 4 that’s not how it works,”

He blinks at you softly, eyes filled with carefully curated desperation. “Please? We can team up together,” He adds the idea of teaming up like it’s an added bonus to your agreement, his voice sweet, sticky, and absolutely dripping in persuasion.

He looks perfectly pathetic when he looks at you like that, and who are you really to say no to him?

“One game,” Your answer is joined by an exasperated sigh, but James reacts like you’ve just told him all of Severus’ hair has fallen out rather than begrudgingly agreeing to play water volleyball with him.

“Perfect! Let’s go,” James holds out his hand to help you up eagerly, a smile beaming across his face that almost puts the blazing sun to shame in it’s brightness.

You roll your eyes at him, but take his hand nonetheless, and he’s a little too excited in pulling you to your feet as he sends you stumbling forward from his pull, and he uses the momentum to lean down and take the top half of your body over his shoulder, hoisting you off the ground in the process.

You can sense the inevitable immediately.

“Don’t you dare—” You arms wrap tightly around James’ waist as he straightens his posture, his arms secured around your thighs as he walks the two of you towards the lake, suspiciously quiet considering his earlier excitement. “James I swear to god if you do what I think you are going to do I will destroy you,”

You kick your legs the closer you get to the water, although it’s to no real avail compared to the arm strength that is James’ chaser practice, and all it really ends up doing is garnering you an audience as James begins to wade in the water.

“James, you better put me down right now.“ Your warning falls on deaf ears, and your half surprised at the amount of will power he has to keep ignoring you as the water reaches his knees.

“James—“ You barely manage to get his name out before he dive on a you both into the water, it’s icy temperature immediately sending a chill up your spine as you resurface with a gasp, James laughing as he breaks the water himself.

“You absolute twat—” You send a splash of water in James’ direction with an over-exaggerated show of your disapproval, and he blocks it with his forearm, laughter still steadily streaming from his mouth.

Needless to say, you didn’t team with him for the volleyball game.

[ninety-two-bees]

until one of us forgets

jegulus & drarry vigilante au

Harry was presumed dead by James and Regulus at fourteen years old, only to resurface years later working for the same evil man they worked their entire lives to protect him from

i have been slowly working on this fic for so long and i am so so glad that it’s finally here <3 i hope you all enjoy it

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

TWO

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

ONE

You open your eyes, feeling a strange pain in your head but relief in your back. You're lying on a very soft bed. But you don't recognize the place; it seems to be someone else's room. There's more light in the room, fewer scattered books. The furniture looks expensive, all in a dark tone. You try to get up from the bed, but you end up staggering. Once again, your body is back on the bed. You think it might be best to go back to sleep until someone shows up. It's exactly at that moment that Sirius enters through the door. He carries a cup and is watching you almost without making any noise.

"How long are you going to keep watching me?" You ask while still lying in bed. Sirius laughs, and you feel relieved that you've broken what could have been an awkward moment between you.

"Is that how you're going to talk to the man who saved you from death twice? I thought you'd know how to be more grateful." Sirius responds as he leans his body against the desk in the room. You sit up in bed, after some effort, and stare at Sirius. He's wearing new, elegant, dark clothes.

"If you're expecting gratitude from me, you'll have to wait until I'm in a better mood. My head is a mess. Did you bring me here?" You wonder how you ended up in Sirius's room. Then you wonder where Remus is. Did you hallucinate meeting someone named Remus? And if he does exist, why did he leave you with Sirius?

"Remus and I. It was teamwork. We didn't want you to get hurt anymore. Before you ask, Remus and I are very close. When you're Lupin's problem, you're my problem too." Sirius then hands you the cup. There's what seems to be herbal tea inside, and you don't waste time asking whether you should drink it or not. You quickly ingest the tea, and almost instantly, you feel relief from the pain in your head.

"I'm grateful and offended at the same time. What do you mean, problem? I'm not a problem for either of you. In fact, I find it rather rude of you to refer to me as a problem." You say as soon as you finish the tea. Apparently, you managed to rise and stand up immediately after getting angry with Sirius. He seems to have a talent for irritating you.

"Hey, hey, hey princess. Relax. I didn't mean to offend you, but let's just say taking care of you was an inconvenience. Remus had to go teach, but today is my day off. A day away from the little ones." Sirius says, smiling slyly. You look into Sirius's eyes and wonder how he can be someone's teacher.

"You're a bit childish for a teacher. Not that I'm saying you're not qualified to teach, but..." you say, being suggestive. You notice he's no longer smiling, which is a pity. His smile is beautiful. As beautiful as he is.

"I'll forgive you for the attitude and offer to take you to the room where you should be going to teach. Right now." Sirius says, somewhat arrogantly, and pretending to be modest. At least, that's what it seems like he's doing.

"How? I just arrived, I can't just already have to teach, can I?" You had no idea that there would already be a class waiting for you. Things at Hogwarts seem to happen too quickly.

"McGonagall doesn't mess around. Apparently, you'll be substituting for my esteemed friend Lily Potter. Her health is fragile at the moment. But enough details. Let's go. The brats are eager to meet you." Sirius says, almost excitedly. Then he puts his hand out in front of you as if he wants you to take his hand. And you hold his hand, which is as cold as winter. But soft; very soft. And then he guides you, holding your hand with some firmness.

"Shouldn't I meet with this McGonagall or Dumbledore? Am I just going to arrive and start teaching?" You speak as you practically run through the corridors behind Sirius. He seems focused.

"McGonagall is busy dealing with a student who locked herself in the bathroom, and now everyone can hear her moans, and many students are nervous about it. As for Dumbledore, he's traveled to a meeting between some influential school directors in London. He won't be back for a few weeks. But trust me, you're in good hands." Sirius says, almost breathless as you're both almost running everywhere. Oh dear, how will you manage to teach after sprinting through almost the entire school at this speed?

"Tell me we've arrived. My feet can't handle climbing another staircase. At this rate, you'll have to carry me." You say, letting go of Sirius's hand for a moment and catching your breath.

"Nice way to flirt with me, but we've arrived. You're new here, they probably tried to intimidate you. I hope you survive. Take good care of my godson. See you later, Y/N." Sirius says quickly, with a playful smirk on his face, and then he disappears. How does he manage to be so fast?

Summoning courage, you enter the classroom. It's a room with an old-fashioned style, furniture made of the finest wood, and several students who look at you as if you've committed a crime.You compose yourself as you walk to the teacher's desk. It's a large desk, with a big book on top of it and a attendance list. You look at the class and notice that the boys who were fighting when you arrived are your students.

"So, students. I'm your substitute teacher. I'll be taking over this class until the previous teacher can return. I hope you'll receive me with the same respect that I'll give to you." You speak in a steady tone, neither too loud nor too soft.

"You hear that, Potter? Now you won't be privileged with high grades just for being the teacher's son. Finally, all of Hogwarts will discover what a loser you are." The boy, whom you believe to be called Draco, speaks almost across the room, addressing the dark-haired boy.

"You continue to delude yourself with your nonsense, Malfoy. If you put half as much effort into studying as you do into trying to belittle me, you'd probably be smarter." Potter speaks, and you just observe them with a serious expression.

"You know what? I think you two need to learn to put your energy into something other than taunts and senseless aggression. Malfoy and Potter, pair up and be the first to do today's class activity. For the other students, pair up as you prefer and start drawing. Today's task for everyone is to draw an animal that represents you as a pair. The best pair will earn extra credit. I suggest that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter showcase their skills if they truly want to measure intelligence." You walk around the room as you write the task on the board and listen to the students forming their pairs. Everyone except the two mortal enemies. Apparently, they really don't want to do this task together.

"Teacher, with all due respect, it's not possible for you to believe that Draco Malfoy and I will do well in this task." Potter says as he adjusts his glasses on his face. He speaks assertively, and you look at him, trying to decide what to respond to him.

"Even though Potter is a fool, he's right. Not to mention that you've just arrived here and are already treating the two of us differently. It's not fair that the others can choose their partners and we have to stay together." Draco speaks, all full of himself, as if he's making a beautiful defense of why he's being unjustly treated. You chuckle lightly.

"I'll be clearer. You're going to work together, you're going to do a good job, and all of this in harmony. Otherwise, neither of you will receive a grade. Now, save all that energy for the beautiful drawing you're going to make. I'll be sitting at my desk waiting to evaluate you and all the other obedient classmates you have." You say, sitting in the comfortable chair designated for the teacher and opening the book on the desk. Malfoy and Potter must have realized that you wouldn't change your mind and decided to pair up. You took attendance, finally discovering that Potter's name is Harry, that the smart girl who draws beautifully is Hermione Granger, and that the boy she's paired with, who spends most of his time distracting her, is named Ron Weasley. Time passes quickly, and soon you're collecting the class's drawings to evaluate later. Draco and Harry did a great job together, but that didn't stop Malfoy from threatening to call his father to the school if you forced him to be near Potter.

"How was your first day?" Remus asks as soon as all your students leave the room for recess, and you stay behind to organize some things.

"A madness. Seriously, I thought my night was a mess, but waking up in Sirius's room in the early afternoon and then coming to teach was insane. Not to mention that the students I separated from a fight this morning are my students. And I think both of them will end up hating me by the end of my time here. And I lost my suitcase. But don't let me overwhelm your ears with my nonsense." You say, feeling lighter when you finish speaking, as if a weight has been lifted off your chest. Remus seems somewhat enchanted by your moment of venting. Or maybe his eyes always look too friendly? The smile is charming too.

"I can try to solve some of your problems. Harry is like a nephew to me, not to mention he's Sirius's godson. I can talk to him about this situation with Malfoy. As for your suitcase, it might be with me. I was walking through the forest a little before I found you in my room, and I saw this strange suitcase there. It was dirty with blood, so I preferred to clean it first, but I can take you to the suitcase. And then, of course, you can have a coffee with me." Remus says in a very sweet way, which leaves you a bit enchanted. For some reason, you feel that being near him is refreshing or comforting, something like that. You can't quite explain it yourself. You feel the impulse to hug him, which is quite strange. But you manage to control yourself.

"I can't refuse an invitation like that, especially when you offer me a solution not only to one but to two of my problems. Lead the way to the cafeteria because I'm dying for a cappuccino." You say, walking with Remus, who is walking quite calmly. Then you go together to the cafeteria, and you feel like you might enjoy your time at Hogwarts, even if it's short-lived.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Nine

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

As they neared this outcropping of something in the corridors of nothing, a figure emerged before them — first as shadow, then as sound, and then a lonely silhouette. Tall, trim, standing in a practised poise before the doorway, he had ceased his work inside and came to greet them.

“Mio Barone,” said the man, bowing from the waist. “Che onore.”

“Ambrogio,” he said, greeting him in English for Tom’s sake. “Working late, I see.”

“As always. It is a pleasure,” he replied in perfect English.

He was a thin old man in a black suit buttoned tightly up and down, with wrinkled leather shoes. When he straightened from his bow, he seemed more like a floating face on a lithe shadow. What wisps of hair remained around his head sat behind his ears like bird nests, but his face was far less soft. Pale eyes, thin lips, a sunken face as cold as death.

“Tom,” said the Baron, “this is Mr. Ambrogio Oso. He helps us with many matters. An invaluable servant. Ambrogio, this is Tom Riddle.”

Tom looked him up and down and smiled thinly. Only Ambrogio’s eyebrows moved, quirking ever so slightly. He would make a remarkable corpse, thought Tom. “A pleasure,” he said, offering his hand.

The man reluctantly stepped forward and shook it — just once.

“Quite cold down here, isn’t it?” Tom noted. “Must be a nice change during the day.”

“Yes, we didn’t come down here to discuss the weather,” said the Baron. “Show us to collection B-1786.”

Ambrogio nodded and turned on his heels, leading them into the office. “This way, please.”

Tom followed, but his gaze lingered on the wall facing the door, where those tall red drapes were hanging. Slightly parted, they seemed to lead into another, shorter corridor. This place was more of a museum or a warehouse… He wondered if it had anything to do with that auction he’d heard Frederico mention to her during lunch.

The office was broad and wide, with three desks of which only one seemed busy. The walls were thick with old maps and photographs, and empty spiderwebs hung in the corners with no insects in sight. The place smelled like death and naphthalene. Crates gaped open all around, some covered discreetly with a shrowd, others not at all. There were books inside them mostly, but there were other items too. Elaborate bottles of red glass reinforced with blackened silver, candleholders, daggers, and cups.

Tom raised his head slightly, throwing a look from the corner of his eye upon that busy desk. Mr. Oso was in the middle of research involving a medieval ritual, it seemed, amid a medley of notes in both German and Arabic, fresh ink shining darkly beneath a green lamp.

Ambrogio went to one of the crates behind a corner and shuffled a few heavy things inside. He came out carrying three heavy tomes, each with a piece of paper sticking out of their pages, and set them on the nearest desk.

Tom didn’t wait for an invitation, he approached. Ambrogio stepped aside, hands tucked behind his back.

“So, I take it you want me to review these, Baron?”

“I want you to authenticate them, Tom.”

“I see…”

He threw his eyes over their covers. One was a copy of The Book of Abramelin, another was the Grimoire of Pope Leo, and last was the Grand Albert.

There was nothing untoward about the request, nor about the books themselves, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to touch them just yet. They looked old, too old. If it were up to him, he’d find it safer to look over them with magic.

“And the books I brought with me?”

“I will agree to a trade if you will serve me in this manner.”

“And then?” asked Tom, cocking a brow over his shoulder.

“Then, if you wish, you may continue to serve me.”

Tom scoffed and turned. “I already have an employer,” he said, tucking one hand in his pocket. “I’m only here for a few books, that is all.”

“Very well, then,” the old man shrugged, tapping the pipe against his coarse old palm. His assistant looked calm, but her eyes shifted nervously from the Baron back to Tom. “If, after this simple task, you will wish to end our collaboration, you may.”

Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was fairly irritated at having been dragged out at this hour only to be given orders and obfuscations. And he wasn’t any closer to getting either of the remaining two books he needed.

“How long do I have?”

“I want a report ready in three weeks.”

“And what if they will prove to be forgeries?”

“Then you may keep them for nothing.”

“I have no use for fakes,” he chuckled.

“I doubt that,” the old man said with a twinkle in his eye. “Are we agreed?”

Tom looked from the Baron up to her. Behind him, he felt the shard of Ambrogio’s attention.

“Alright,” he said. “Although I expect payment during this time. Upfront.”

“You can discuss that with my secretary,” said the Baron, waving for the girl to push his wheelchair out. “Come by my office tomorrow.”

Tom watched her lead the old man from the room and reached down for the books. A pale hand stopped him, gripping his thin wrist so fast the blood froze in his veins.

“The books stay here,” Ambrogio said. “Baron’s orders.”

Tom clenched his jaw. It would’ve been far easier for him to analyse them in the comfort of his room where he could run detection charms for traces of stray magic, but perhaps there was some merit to working here. It would give him ample opportunity to explore this hidden and rather expansive part of the shop.

“So be it,” he smiled, yanking his arm free.

“Ambrogio,” the Baron called, “I bid you good night.”

“Good night, Baron. I shall see you out.”

Tom stepped back into the corridor. The vampire — for that is what Ambrogio was — followed.

“No need, no need,” said the Baron, fat arm waving as his assistant pushed him forward. “You probably wish to go home. Rest. Tom?”

“Yes, Baron?”

“We’re leaving. Come.”

“Right away.” He turned to look once more at Oso and saved a toothy smile for him. “I look forward to our collaboration.”

“It will be my pleasure, Mr. Riddle, to manage you,” he said.

Tom chuckled, and with one last scathing look, he left.

II

The chauffeur was waiting for the Baron outside. He and Tom helped load the old man in, and then he was left behind with his assistant as she closed up the shop.

“You shouldn’t have promised him that,” she said once they were alone. “Three weeks isn’t enough. The research alone would take one month, let alone writing a report.”

“I know men like him,” said Tom, waiting for her to secure all the locks. “They love ambitious, overachieving youngsters. Reminds them of the children they never had. Gives them something to brag about. Besides,” he added, “I can do it.”

“He doesn’t want children,” she said with a faint smile as she turned, joining him on the cold empty street. “He wants servants.”

“Same thing, in their eyes.”

He helped her put her coat on, and then they began to walk together toward the tram station.

“I just worry that you’ve —”

“I know,” said Tom, a strange feeling gripping him. “But I have everything under control.”

She looked at him with soft and tired eyes above a fading smile. “At least that makes one of us.”

Tom frowned. “Who is this Oso, anyway? Has he always worked down there?”

“Always. He’s been there since long before I was hired.”

“And he works alone?”

“Mostly.”

“At night?”

She shrugged, her shoulders squeezed up to her ears as if she were a frightened bird. “Sometimes. Honestly, I don’t know his comings and goings. Sometimes he’s there during the day, sometimes he’s not.”

“You visit him down there?” Tom asked with a cocked brow.

“No, in fact… in fact, I’m not really supposed to go down there without a reason. There’s a telephone…”

Tom nodded, piecing it together. She seemed not to know her colleague was a vampire, and now he wondered if even the Baron knew.

“So, what sort of person is he?”

“Ambrogio? He’s… a professional,” she said, shrugging again. “He’s private, doesn’t really have a sense of humour.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

“And he likes things to be just so. Hates it when people touch his things or…”

“Or ask him any questions?”

“Yes,” she chuckled.

“I’ll be sure to do a lot of that, then,” smiled Tom.

She looked up at him, smiling now as well, her cheeks a little fuller and her eyes alight, but sad and… worried. Tom frowned. There was that feeling again, that spasmodic odium whenever she looked at him so softly and smouldering with the unspoken. She was afraid for him — not of him, but for him — and Tom didn’t know what to do with that. He had no point of reference. Nothing to compare it to.

“Let me walk you home,” he offered, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “You can tell me all about the mess I’ve gotten myself into on the way.”

That got a chuckle out of her, at least. “You know I live quite far, and it’s already late.”

“I don’t mind.”

She smiled at him, and it caught — he smiled back.

III

She made no mention of Clement or what happened to him, but it was clear to Tom she greatly feared the Baron. From the tremble in her voice to the way she hugged herself, he could tell she had some kind of trauma. Something about how she sat when they were in the tram together, close enough she had to whisper, body curled in on itself, told him she needed to be held. Tom kept his hands firmly, very firmly, on his lap.

“So Ambrogio never goes upstairs?” he quietly asked.

“Never since I’ve worked there. I’m glad, honestly. He’s a little creepy… But the Baron greatly depends on him.”

“How is he paid?” Tom whispered.

“What do you mean? You mean how much?”

“Y-yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Oh, I don’t know. A lot, I expect.”

“Right.”

“He’s dangerous though. Don’t underestimate him, even if he’s old and frail,” she whispered back, her voice warm against his neck.

“Oh I’m sure,” Tom chuckled.

“I’m serious!” she insisted, speaking quietly but a little fearful now. She was so secretive, even if they were the only people on the midnight tram. “I think… I think he worked for the Mafia before.”

Tom laughed at that. It felt oddly refreshing… He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so sincerely.

“I’m serious!”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “Forgive me. I just… doubt it.”

“I know, I know. Their oath is supposed to be for life, right? But maybe this is why he works at night. Maybe he’s in hiding.”

“Mmm,” Tom nodded with a smile.

He could feel her at his shoulder, her body close to his and warm against the chilly night. How different it was from the day… Fragrant and alluring like a calm spring day, but dark and empty. Only the two of them existed.

The tram came to her stop at her station, far from the city centre. They got off, Tom going first to hold his hand for her.

“You’re certainly right about one thing, thought,” he said after they started walking down her street. “He is dangerous. Best keep away from him.”

“I do,” she nodded.

“Good,” said Tom. And he almost promised to take care of Oso for her but stopped himself at the last moment. How stupid that would be,he thought.

They walked in silence down the street, which looked even more squalid at night, both lost in their own thoughts.

“What is it?” Tom asked as they neared her building, unnerved by the silence.

“I just wish you hadn’t walked me back,” she chuckled, “that’s all.”

“Oh,” he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging you for where you live. I’m only quiet because I was thinking.”

“Just following me blindly then?”

“To the grave,” smiled Tom. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

She laughed anyway. “You’re a little strange, Tom… But I like you anyway.”

“You mean you like me in spite of it?”

“Perhaps. But I still like you.”

She looked at him in a peculiar way, as if his eyes could keep her warm, and although her lips turned upward there was a strain to it. She was trying not to smile too brightly…

Tom swallowed the knot in his throat and shuffled his feet on the ground. They stood right in front of her building.

“Well, here I am,” she sighed. “Home again…”

“Is it really?”

She didn’t answer.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” said Tom. “And many days after that.”

“You still have time to reconsider,” she said. “You haven’t signed anything yet…”

Tom laughed, the sound playing through the empty streets. “You speak of your employer as if he were the devil.”

“What, do you think you’re the only one that gets to do that?” she chuckled.

He blushed a little. She remembered what he’d said that night when he complained. It had been stupid of him to drink all that wine, stupid of him to talk. But he was glad that she remembered… He was almost touched. At least, he wanted to be.

“Good night,” he said. “And try not to worry.”

[fikefries]

warm; draco malfoy pt 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

this will be the last part cuz im running out of ideas, but you guys can request more for draco or any characters that dont follow this storyline!!

summary: when lucius malfoy comes to hogwarts for a visit, draco is forced to distance himself from you, leaving him desperate for your touch.

warning: slight smut? suggestive. not proofread.

the days melted into weeks, your love for draco only grew stronger, each moment filled with unspoken affection and simmering desire. every touch, every glance, spoke volumes of the love that bloomed between you.

as the autumn days started to melt into winter nights. the day got closer. draco's father - lucius malfoy- would be coming to hogwarts. draco said it was for an important meeting with professor snape - probably death eater business.

as the date of draco's fathers visit to hogwarts came closer, a cloud of tension seemed to settle over him, a constant reminder of the secret you both shared. his fathers arrival meant that he had to keep your relationship hidden, a fact that weighed heavily on both of you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

when the day finally arrived, draco's demeanor shifted, his usual confidence turning into a sense of unease. as he greeted his family in the great hall, you could see the strain in his eyes, the forced smiles masking the anxiety that he felt.

throughout the day, draco was pulled in different directions, forced to entertain his father while keeping his away from you. he became distant, preoccupied with thoughts of how to navigate the balance between his father's expectations and his own desires. it was torture for him, each moment spent apart from you feeling like an eternity.

you watched him from a distance, your heart aching at the nervousness etched into his features. you wanted nothing more than to comfort your boyfriend, to hold him and reassure him that everything would be alright, but the weight of keeping your secret hidden hung between you like a heavy cloak.

you tried to offer support from afar, sending him reassuring smiles whenever your eyes met across the room, but it was nothing compared to the fear of being caught that you both felt in your hearts.

as the day wore on, you found yourselves stealing glances at each other across the dreat Hall, sending sparks flying between you. you felt the bubbling tension in the air as you and draco became more and more needy for each other after being pulled apart for so long. the fact that you couldnt hold each other right now only fuelled the fire of desire burning in both of you.

by the time the evening drew to a close, draco was practically trembling with need, his eyes dark with longing as he stared at you intensley from across the room, signalling toward the door when you catch his eyes, painted with lust and need.

with a silent understanding, you slipped away from the crowd, draco following close behind. the air crackled with anticipation as you made your way down to the dungeons, hidden from prying eyes.

in the darkness, you gasped when you felt dracos cold rings pull you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. the kiss was fierce and passionate, fuelled by hours of longing and desire.

draco's hands roamed your body, his thumb that was softly rubbing your jawline, now moving down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. draco pulled away from the kiss and attached his mouth to your neck, sucking and leaving wet, opened mouth kisses on the sensitive skin- which was sure to leave a mark later. he moved his swollen lips back onto yours as your hands moved to tangle in his blonde locks. his strong hands moved from your ass to your breasts, softly squeezing and teasing you. you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of his touch.

"look what you've done to me y/n" he whispered, his breath hot on your ear.

"made me fall in love with you and now i cant last a fucking day without you" he said before reattaching his lips to your mouth, making you gasp in shock, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

your fingers tangled imposibly deeper in his soft blonde hair, tugging at the locks, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of his touch. his hands roamed your upper body with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

with a fierce urgency, draco pressed you against the cold stone wall, his body pressed against yours as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth in a wild dance of desire.

you arched into him, your nails digging into his back as you gave yourself fully to the passion that surged between you. every touch, every caress, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, until you were both lost in a fevered frenzy of need and longing.

in that moment, there were no secrets, no barriers separating you from each other. there was only the two of you.

this is the last part! i hope you guys enjoyed this mini-series! feel free to send in any requests for other fics with any character mentioned in my list of people ill write abt!!

@ameliat-13

[whorediaries-09]

they said i was a cheat

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- angst. a/n- this is me healing my inner child because sirius black deserved better.

little train. series masterlist.

the poison slips up his throat, his head starting to heat with each moment. the vile cruelty on his tongue doesn't allow him to speak up his thoughts. the way that the wizengamot stares at him, with cold contempt and disbelief makes him feel he truly was the cheat. it doesn't help with the fact he already blamed himself for the ruination of his home.

sensing his discomfort, you softly squeeze his bony shoulder. he shudders, the touch setting an agonizing fire within his core. touch, he'd not felt touch that encouraged him for so long. as a free man he'd felt touch, that blossomed a beautiful feeling of comfort and security within him.

he'd learnt to love the soft caress of fingers on his cheek, the brush of lips upon his skin. he'd learnt touch helped him to connect with others in times of happiness or bolstered him in the times of fear or excites him in the times of passion and love.

after years of learning to love the feeling of touch, he'd been captivated by the demons again, which tortured him to fall into the hellhole of hating touch all over again. he hated that he became a fearful man, afraid of a mere brush of hands upon his skin. he hated he was the archer and the prey all over again.

yet, within the gentle squeeze was comfort which blurred his blue fears. so, he found the courage to move his lips, to say his side of the story.

'on the night 31st of october, 1981 when the clock struck twelve, marking a new day, i got a phone call, informing me of the deaths of james and lily potter. previously, i was supposed to be the secret keeper, but last minute i'd changed my position to peter pettigrew's.'

'well that's very brave of you black! forcing a made up story onto a dead man- who you killed!' mr fudge shakes with fury. sirius shakes his head disapprovingly, his tongue tied into the bits of vile words he wishes he could throw at him.

'his story isn't finished yet, let him speak.' you speak up. in a soft untamed moment of fondness, his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

'i'd asked peter pettigrew to become the secret keeper because as a teen, he'd been the most formidable and the most shy of our lot. he was the last person we'd expected to turn out to be a rat, to betray us and reveal the location of the residence to his master- the dark lord, who he worshipped so piously. it was him who killed the twelve muggles that night! the rat cut off his finger before disappearing, faking his own death, leaving me to blame, because everybody knew i was the secret-keeper.'

he huffed, and found his cheeks wetted by salty tears that flowed down his dirt stricken cheeks. after years of silent torment, after years of keeping himself silent, he thought he'd lost his ability to say the truth without breaking into a rage storm over again.

'now, that's a very well made up story. what a plot twist!' cornelius grumbled. 'just have the veritaserum and let's see what you have to say.'

'THERE WAS A BETRAYER IN THE ORDER! EVERYBODY KNEW THAT! EVEN DUMBLEDORE KNEW THAT! HALF SUSPECTED ME, HALF REMUS! BUT NOBODY COULD PIN IT OUT ON THAT RAT, PETER!' sirius bellows, his chest heaving, as every spark of lightened rage leaves his body.

'calm down mr. black, or we would have to talk severe actions against misdemeanor.'

'severe actions my foot, what are you going to do? throw me in with the dementors? HAVE I NOT HAVE HAD ALREADY OF THAT EXPERIENCE NOW? YOU THINK IT CAN AFFECT ME?'

'sirius please calm down. have the potion and say what you have to say.' squeezing his shoulder you whisper, 'choose your words very very carefully. you know with the animagus thing and all. it may cause you trouble.' he nods. acknowledging his attention and presence of mind, you wipe his cheeks peeling off the curtain of tears from his bony face. he takes the serum from your grasp, holding it near his lips before gulping it down at a go. it burns, flowing down his wry throat.

'speak.' dumbledore says, calmly.

'the order had been facing a crisis. everybody suspected a spy within the close ranks of the dark lord. most suspected me and lupin. however as the halloween night approached closer- the doomed night, i told james to make peter pettigrew, one of our best mates at that time to become the secret keeper. it was no rumor that he was a timid boy, but our assumptions were deemed wrong which caused the death of james and lily potter. i could never betray james, i'd rather die than betray my best mate, my brother. I'D RATHER DIE! the rat scurried off to the dark lord so piously revealing the place where my brother hid, killing james and lily. i tracked him down, and the buffoon faked his death, framing me for the murders i could have never committed. he cut off his little finger, and using the blasting curse, he killed those muggles! the rat!'

he breathes heavy, his eye lids looming with the unshed tears. slowly, he gasps for air, as his speech comes to an end. his gaze hidden by tears succumb the room into silence.

'do you hear me now dumbledore?' he whispers, almost menacingly. dumbledore's eyes pry upon him without word. fudge gruntles.

'so you're telling me peter pettigrew is alive?'

'yes, that rat is alive.' he spits venomously, his eyes still not drifting from albus. slightly shivering, he trembles.

'who from the wizengamot believe in the innocence of sirius black?' he asks. his hand remains low, while around thirty five people - including dumbledore raise their hands.

'and who from the council believes that sirius black is the true verdict?' the remaining people raise their hands. a few however remain low. fudge shakes with fury.

'well it's settled then. he stamps on a piece of parchment. sirius orion black, you're free from of 23rd July 1986. inform the press about it.'

sirius shudders, a trail of shock flowing through his spine, as the words fall from fudge's lips. he lets the tears accumulate in his eyes, hearing as your shoes rub against the polished tiles. you're walking away, he realizes. his heart fills up with glee. he's free as declared by the ministry. he won't be thrown back to the hellhole called azkaban. he wishes he'd hug you, and express his gratitude. but he remains stuck on the chair.

he'd beaten the heat, the charges. it had gotten drunk, daring to wash him away, but he'd held upon his ground, letting his feelings rest.

***************************************

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series)- @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[crazyhearttragedy]

Liar - Jegulus

Regulus could tell you he’d never been in love. He’d be lying. But Regulus had always been a liar, and was very good at it by now.

But he couldn’t quite convince himself of it. He couldn’t quite forget. There were nights his mind could still take him back to that time during sixth year.

The days of whispered promises and stolen kisses. The days he’d actually let himself want something for himself, something that his parents didn’t just want for him.

And he had wanted James. Fuck, he’d love the boy. Not that he’d actually told James that, of course. No, he had let himself want James and have him for a time. He’d even deluded himself into believing that it could last.

He’d made James promises, promised he meant to keep, but Regulus was a liar, even to himself. During Christmas break of sixth year, he’d been forced to get the dark mark, and that had been the start of the end.

Oh, but what was the point of those stupid promises? Regulus was always fated to die, apart from his sun.

So, yes, Regulus was a liar. He was a liar to everyone, even himself. And he told everyone he’d never been in love, because now, walking into that cave, his fate would’ve been all the more unbearable had he realized that he could’ve had the chance to be happy.

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 23

arguments

1 november 1996

Euphemia’s POV

I sit across from the Headmaster, morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, and listen to him make excuses after excuses. We’ve been arguing for about 20 minutes now. Harry and the Triwizard Tournament was all I could think about when I woke up this morning, so I slipped out of bed and dressed earlier than I normally would on a Sunday morning. 

 I went to the Owlery first and sent the letters I scribbled out last night to Remus and Sirius and then to Dumbledore’s office, armed with multiple options that I felt were all perfectly reasonable. Every single one has been shot down. McGonagall stands next to Dumbledore’s desk, watching mostly in silence; although I can tell she agrees with me more than she’ll say. 

“The Goblet constitutes a binding contact. Harry must participate in the tournament,” Dumbledore says in the same calm and lightly condescending tone he has spoken to me with since I entered his office. 

“You can’t hold him to a contract someone else signed for him! He is a child!” I respond, beyond exasperated and pissed off. 

“Euphemia, the world has been far too cruel for either of you to still be considered children,” he responds, tilting his head slightly. 

“How can you not see a problem with that? So what, you consider him an adult so you’ll force him through even more trauma for the entertainment of the masses?” I snap back, not believing that the man who has always seemed to genuinely care for Harry and I could be so cavalier about this. 

“Miss Potter, I will ask you to speak to the Headmaster with the tone deserving of him and is becoming of a Gryffindor,” McGonagall scolds. 

“Harry is a minor in the eyes of the law and I am his guardian, not you!” I press on, my eyes boring into the man across from me without acknowledging I heard my Head of House. “I have spent my entire life trying to give him as normal a life as possible and you have the audacity to sit there and tell me it was useless? That you are willing to continually put him through trials that he is not old enough to consent to? Do you care at all that every single year he has attended this school he has been put in danger, almost dying at least three times in three years? How can you sit here and look me in the eyes and tell me that is acceptable in any way?” I’m yelling now but I don’t care. They can give me detention for the next two years if it means Harry is pulled from the tournament. Dumbledore doesn’t speak for a long, tense moment; he just sits still and stares at me as I’m a disappointing child he can’t figure out how to push in the right direction. 

“Are you quite finished?” He says finally but I don’t respond. I just grit my teeth and hold back what I think of him at this moment. “Good. Now I consulted with Mr. Crouch on this issue last night and he stated, as I have already told you, that the rules are absolute. If a person’s name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, regardless of age or intent, they are obligated by a magically binding contract to participate. While Harry must compete, I assure you that I am doing everything in my power to discover exactly how his name ended up flying out of the goblet.” Dumbledore sits forwards and folds his hands on his desk, his eyes boring into me over his crescent moon spectacles. I hold his gaze for a moment before looking up at McGonagall but she doesn’t quite meet my eyes so I look back to the Headmaster, the supposedly most powerful wizards alive. “Now, will that be all, Miss Potter?” 

I swallow a scoff, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I’m sure it's bleeding. After a moment, I stand from my chair and step towards the large desk, now looking down at the man. 

“If anything happens to my brother, I will hold you personally responsible,” I say slowly, leaning my hands on his desk. 

“I have no doubt, Miss Potter. You are every bit your parents’ child, after all,” he says pleasantly, as if we were having a pleasant chat about my goals in life. This time I don’t hold back my scoff as I push away from the desk and turn on my heel, leaving his office and slamming the door behind me. 

I storm back into the Gryffindor Tower and head back into my room, the long walk through the castle doing nothing to lessen my anger. I open the door to my room to see Harry and Mattheo talking very seriously by the fire. At the sound of the door, both their heads whip to me and Harry’s eyes meet mine. 

“Mia, I swear I didn’t-” 

“I know,” I respond immediately, knowing my brother well enough to know glory isn’t something he chases. “I just came from Dumbledore’s office…” I look over Harry’s shoulder to Matt, who’s looking down at the fire. 

“What did he say?” Harry asks, a small sliver of hope in his eyes. 

“He said there’s nothing to be done, I can’t believe it but he didn’t budge,” I sigh and shake my head and the tiny sliver of hope in his eyes fades. I step further into the room and wrap my arms around him, one hand on the back of his head as he rests his forehead on my shoulder and his arms around my waist, the way we’d hold each other when we were little and scared; although now he’s several inches taller than me. 

“I’m so sorry, Haz,” I whisper, blinking tears away, refusing to show him how truly terrified I am for him. “I’m gonna help you, okay?” I say, pulling back to look into his eyes, “I’ll teach you anything you need to know, we’ll get you through this. I promise.” 

“I know, Mia. It’s not your fault,” Harry says quietly. 

“Did they tell you about the first task?” Harry nods. 

“Supposed to test our courage they said but wouldn’t say how. It's on the 28th, we can’t ask for help from teachers and we can only have our wands with us.” 

“Don’t give you much to go on, huh?” Mattheo adds quietly. 

“I’ll put together a list of spells that might come in handy, and I can teach you the ones you don’t know already. And I’ll see if I can find any information on what the tasks have been in the past, see if we can get any idea of what you’ll face and I’ve written to Sirius and Remus,” Harry startles for a moment at me using Sirius’ real name, glancing at Mattheo for a moment but he must not care that I’ve told him because the look faded quickly, “Maybe Dumbledore will listen to them or maybe they have some information about the Tournament, but let's not worry about it today, okay?” Harry nods again, his eyes cast down. 

 “I have to go to this stupid photo thing,” he says quietly and I watch as Harry moves to the door and opens it slowly, like going back into the world is the last thing he wants. 

“Hey, Haz,” I call, causing him to turn around, “Don’t listen to anyone else, ‘kay? We know the truth, what anyone else thinks doesn’t matter.” Harry nods, forcing a small smile my way before stepping out of my room, the door closing behind me. 

As soon as the door closes, all the strength drains from my body and I slump onto the edge of my bed, head in my hands as tears threaten to spill over onto my cheeks. 

“Harry’s a smart kid… He’ll be okay,” Mattheo says softly, as I hear his footsteps coming closer till he is kneeling in front of me, his hands on my knees, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. I drop my hands from my face and look at my boyfriend, his warm brown eyes filled with worry and sympathy. 

“What if he’s not okay? I mean they added an age requirement for a reason and even then they made no assurance of safety. What if he-” My throat tightens as tears spill onto my cheeks and panic threatens to overtake me again but Matt stands and pulls me into his arms, my head resting on his chest, his heart beating softly. 

“He’s gonna be okay, princess. We’ll help him and he’ll get through it just like he always has,” he says softly, rubbing my back and running his fingers through my hair. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Why would anyone do this to him?” I ask distantly, only one or two names come to mind but I hesitate to speak them outloud, realizing for the first time in a while that the man standing in front of me is his son, and the second is his uncle. He wouldn’t… No, he couldn’t have, he’s not old enough. Get it together, Euphemia. 

“Mia, I promise I had nothing to do with it,” Mattheo starts, seeming to read the direction my mind went. 

“No, I know,” I say quickly, standing up and cupping his face with my hands. “I trust you, Matt. Promise… Do you think Malfoy’s father might have something to do with it? He did give Ginny your father’s diary a few years back.” Mattheo’s face scrunches up in thought and steps back, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know if Lucius is crafty enough for something like this,” he says quietly. “The diary would have been easy to slip into her things and easy to hide his guilt but… I can’t even fathom how you would trick a magical object like the Goblet of Fire.’ 

“But who else? Do you think…” Mattheo turns to me quickly, a dark look flashing in his eyes. 

“My father is dead,” he says bluntly. 

“Right… No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up,” I say, hugging my arms across my core, my bottom lip caught between my teeth as I think. 

“It’s alright, I don’t blame you. It’s a… natural leap, I guess.” Mattheo and I stand there in the tensest silence since he cornered me at the start of term. I take a step forward and pull Matt’s face down to mine, connecting our lips. 

“I trust you,” I mutter between kisses, and his arms wrap more tightly around me, pulling me so close I feel like we might just melt together. 

“I know, princess. I trust you too,” he whispers back, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s all good, baby.” 

✦

13 november 1996

I used to think that my fourth year, when Harry and I were suspected of opening the Chamber of Secrets and treated like social pariahs, was the worst case scenario. Well, let’s just say that this time around, no one is afraid we will petrify them so they’ve gotten much braver. Malfoy, charming as ever, managed to get his hands on a bunch of Hermione’s S.P.E.W. badges and transformed them into buttons which read all sorts of nasty things: Potter Stinks, Support Cedric Diggory, the REAL Hogwarts Champion, Diggory Rules, Potter Drools etc. Half the school is wearing them, much to Hermione’s dismay since barely anyone wore her version of the badges before. 

Mattheo, protective as ever, has spent much of his time glaring at anyone who dares to look at me sideways and has gotten into multiple fights in defense of me. I’ve pulled him out of two confrontations today alone, and we’re barely halfway though the day. Honestly, with how many fights he gets in, I’m surprised they haven’t taken his prefect badge away yet. The Twins have been enacting vengeance in their own ways, mostly through pranks and charming the buttons to say nasty things about the wearer instead. 

Harry and Ron are at odds, also, so Harry has been spending more time than normal with me. I’ve been trying to help with defensive spells and curses to prepare him for the first tasks and he is picking them up quickly, but it doesn’t help much to assuage our anxiety. 

“Hi Potter, how’s your day going? Like the badge?” Elladora coos from behind me in the library, pulling my mind from my studies. Typical that she chose the only period I don’t share with Mattheo today to come taunt me. I’ve got a free period after lunch while Matt is stuck in Arithmancy. 

“Bugger off, Lestrange,” I say without turning or looking up from my Potions essay. 

“What? You don’t want to see my badge?” She says, stalking around me before leaning over the table, but I still don’t look up. 

“Honestly, I couldn’t give fewer shits about anything having to do with you,” I say with a flat tone, flipping through my text book. 

“Hm, well, it’s alright I suppose. I’ll have plenty of time to show it off. Real shame you’ve drug Mattheo into your mess and sullied him with your tainted blood,” Elladora coos cruelly. 

“You do know that he's a half blood, yes? Just like me,” I say simply, finally looking up at the girl. She wears a Potter Stinks badge, her unruly dark hair tied up in a bun so as to ensure the badge is always visible. “So either we are both tainted or neither of us are. You can’t have it both ways, Ella,” I continue, purposefully using her nickname and her lip curls up in a sneer. 

“Half Blood bitch,” she sneers, leaning closer to my face but I don’t back up, determined to not give Elladora Lestrange a single second of satisfaction. 

“Damn, got me there. How’d you come up with your insults? They’re just so unique,” I snark back dryly and stand, grabbing my belongings to push past the Slytherin girl to find somewhere with actual peace. 

“Your brother is going to die,” she calls after me, stopping me in my tracks. “Everyone knows it.” Without even thinking, I drop everything from my arms and whip around, punching Elladora straight in the nose so hard she stumbles back into the table I was sitting at, all the anxiety and anger and stress from the last few weeks boiling over. Luckily, I had chosen to set up in a back corner of the library, so no one is currently around to witness my outrage. The girl sits on the floor, blood beginning to drip from her nose as she glares up at me. 

“Keep mine, my brother’s and my boyfriend’s names out of your disgusting prejudiced mouth, or I’ll do a lot worse next time,” I say lowly, anger coursing through my body as I turn on my heel, summon my belongings back into my arms with wandless magic and storm out of the library, through the castle and up to the Astronomy Tower. 

I’m there nearly an hour later when Mattheo climbs the steps, coming to meet me after his Arithmancy lesson. “Hey, Princess,” he says lightly and I turn my head to face him, offering him a half smile. “Oof, that bad, huh?” he asks, pulling out his own cigarette as I take a drag of mine. 

“Just tired,” I say softly, looking out over the grounds, the trees have almost all lost their leaves and the color seems to be leaking from the world under the gray sky. 

“Oi! Potter!” Theo’s voice echoes up the stairs, accompanied by heavy footsteps. 

“Mia! Are you up here?” Fred’s voice calls and both Mattheo and I turn around to see Enzo and Theo bounding up the stairs, followed surprisingly by Fred and George. While our friends have each, for the most part, accepted mine and Mattheo’s relationship, getting them to all be friends has been a little more challenging. Well just the boys really; Astoria, Angelina, Alicia and I all get on great. 

“Is it true?” Enzo huffs breathlessly, hunching over as he tries to catch his breath.

“Is what true?” Mattheo asks, looking between the three of us. 

“Mia sucker punched Ella! We saw her running to the infirmary with blood dripping from her nose muttering about that ‘stupid Potter bitch.’” Theo says. 

So if it is true?” Freddie asks, recovering his breath. 

I hold up my right hand, knuckles turning slightly bruised already and Theo, Enoz, George and Fred start cracking up. 

“Oh man, what I would’ve paid to see that!” laughs Enzo. 

“Can’t blame you, honestly. I’ve been wondering when the perfect act was gonna crack under the pressure.” Theo responds. 

“Good on you, Phe. She’s been asking for that for years!” Freddie whoops, high fiving George. 

“What happened?” Mattheo asks seriously, cradling my hand in his. I just shrug. 

“She was being a bitch, doesn’t matter,” I sigh, leaning back against a stone pillar and taking a final drag of my cigarette before stubbing it out and flicking it over the edge of the tower. 

“Mia…” Mattheo says, stepping closer to me, holding my gaze intently. the intensity between us causing the other two boys to quiet down for a moment. 

“She said Harry is going to die,” I whisper, barely able to utter the words, as if speaking them allowed will make them a reality. Mattheo’s face hardens before my eyes and I can practically see the battle raging behind his eyes, to stay and comfort me or go after her. “It’s whatever, I took care of it.” 

“Are you okay?” He asks and I nod. “Hand hurt?” 

“Yeah,” I admit, flexing my hand slightly.

“Kinda wish I was there. I bet you looked so hot,” Mattheo mutters, looking down at me, my hand still held gently in his. 

“You’re ridiculous,” I chuckle. 

“Man, Mia, I can’t believe you actually punched her!” George laughs, shaking his head. 

“Listen, we were going to plan a prank on Malfoy for making those bloody badges and now, we can extend the target rage,” Fred says, deviously. 

“We’ll help,” Enzo offers, patting Theo on the back as well. 

“Really?” George questions, looking suspicious. 

“Hell yeah,” Mattheo says, “They need to pay.” 

And I watch as the five boys all smile deviously at each other, and I can’t help but smile as I watch some of my favorite people in the world get completely and totally on the same side for once. 

a/n; im a dumbledore anti if you cant tell lmao also ik we all hate elladora, i hate her and she’s my oc lmao but i do kinda have fun writing her esp this chapter lol

also I’m gonna be traveling for a few weeks so idk how much time I’ll get to write/post but i will let you know day of when i post and if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!! thanks for reading as always loves❤️

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @abaker74 @stxrsberkshire

[artimaking]

for you, i would ✨🩷

a couple commission i illustrated for the lovely @/boundbyliv ♡

[nickstarking]

(Slytherin Boys random quotes)

Thaddeus Nott: Finally you brought your girlfriend for me to meet. I hope she's decent!

Y/N: It's a pleasure to meet you sir *giving his hand to greet and feeling embarrassed because he doesn't respond to the gesture as he doesn't see him*

....

.......

Thaddeus Nott: Hello my young lady, it's my pleasure meeting you, how are you? It must be torture dating my son *greets the wall instead of the girl because of his visual impairment/blindness*

Y/N: It's not torture for me sir, he's cute *light laugh and blushing thinking it's cute that he's not facing her*

Theo Nott: Dad, she's not on that side, you're talking to the wall.

Thaddeus Nott: *grumbles and turns to her* Of course I knew she wasn't there!

[aislynn-wiley1999]

Are you looking for a Hogwarts Legacy fanfiction where:

- Characters do not have plot armour?

- Angst, jealousy, and hidden feelings are all present?

- The romance is a slow burn full of fleeting glances and brushed hands?

- the MC is angry, tired, severe, and occasionally horny?

- Sebastian and Ominis are RIDDLED with flaws and deeper emotions?

- There is smut (eventually, it IS a slow burn)?

Consider reading Three Headed Serpent here on AO3!

It’s at 47k words right now and I update every 2-3 days :)

[calmlyerratic]

What would it be like? Meeting your dead father for the first time?

It couldn't possibly be true. Sure, Sirius, Lupin, and—bloody hell—

Ron felt his throat burn dry at the shock of the teenage Wormtail, parading haphazardly along beside them. And he couldn't deny his own eyes and ears—Sirius and Lupin as young as he'd seen them in photos.

But, how in Merlin's name could they be?

Harry had shaken Sirius' hand, but Ron hadn't, and he felt incredibly tempted to poke him with his wand. So, he did.

"Oi! Where do you get off—!" Sirius brandished his own wand, silver eyes narrowing to slits.

Probably should have gone for Lupin, Ron reconsidered as he watched Lupin hold back a grin.

"Sorry mate," Ron grimaced sheepishly as they walked, putting his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to—er, be sure..."

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from my fic, Encounters of the Future Sort by CalmlyErratic read it here on ao3 :)

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[coolbeans32]

Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader(OC)

SYNOPSIS: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are unexpectedly drawn into a mysterious journey when they receive Albus Dumbledore's last will and testament. Minister Rufus Scrimgeour presents them with significant bequests, including a scrapbook holding the secrets of Dumbledore's past. Through poignant confessions, they learn of Dumbledore's secret marriage to Gellert Grindelwald and the tragic fate of their daughter. Delving into the scrapbook, they uncover a surprising connection between Dumbledore's daughter and Tom Riddle. Dumbledore's final message reveals that his daughter, Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore-Grindelwald, is alive, propelling the trio into a quest to find her and untangle the mysteries of Dumbledore's past. As they embark on this journey, they realize the profound interconnection of their destinies with those of their predecessors, emphasizing the enduring power of love and loss even in the darkest of times.

WARNINGS: This passage contains elements of death, grief, and loss. Specifically, it mentions the tragic death of Dumbledore's daughter, as well as themes of war and the impact of past actions on loved ones.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Previous Part| Next Part

Chapter One

The Scrapbook

“To what do we owe the pleasure Minister?” Harry asks.

“I think we both know the answer to that question, Mr. Potter.” His voice is deep and sure as he speaks. Rufus Scrimgeour leads them to the living room and Harry, Hermione, and Ron sit down in front of him as he lays down a cloth wrap.

“And this is?...”Harry states with a confused look on his face. The Minister then pulls out a piece of paper before making it float in front of him so he can read it.

"Herein is said forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. First, to Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator. A device of my own making. In hope when things seem most dark it will show you the light."

"Dumbledore left this for me?" Ron says taking the small black item out of its cover.

"Yes," the Minister says. Ron looks at it in wonder.

"Really. What is it?" He asks and clicks it open. It takes the lights and when clicked back open it puts them back. "Super."

"To Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard in the hope that she finds it entertaining and instructive," He says handing her a book. She looks at it confused.

"Mom used to tell me those. The wizard and the hopping pot, Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump Come on. Babbity Rabbity... No?" Ron says as we all look at him confused.

"To Harry James Potter, I leave the snitch he caught in his first match at Hogwarts. As a reminder of rewards of perseverance and skill," He says and holds out the golden snitch. Harry looks a bit defeated as does the Minister.

"Is that it then?" Harry asks and the Minister shakes his head.

"Not quite. Dumbledore left you a second bequest: The sword of Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately the sword of Gryffindor was not Dumbledore's to give away. As an important historical artifact it belongs.." He says.

"...to Harry. It belongs to Harry. It came to him when he most needed it in the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione cuts him up. The minister shakes his head.

"The sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor, Miss Granger but that does not make it that wizard's property," He says. "Unfortunately the current whereabouts of the sword are unknown."

"Excuse me?" Harry says. We both look at each other and he looks worried.

"The Sword is Missing. I don't know what you are up to, Mr. Potter but you can't fight this war on your own. He is too strong," The Minister says. Harry, Hermione, and Ron give each other a glance as the Minister stands up.

 “One last thing is left. To Harry James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger  and Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave this scrapbook, an artifact very dear to my heart, in hopes to give you an insight of not only my life but to help you with your next steps necessary towards victory.” Hermione moves forward to grab the elegant scrapbook, looking more like an album, with its intricate black cover and dark emerald green ribbon on the front. The three of them looked really confused. With that, the Minister left, not before saying,

“Best of luck Mr. Potter, you will need it.”

The trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, sit in a circle around the living room, still puzzled by the words of Dumbledore, the Minister, and the scrapbook they had received. Hermione carefully inspects the runes on the cover, her brow furrowed in concentration. She noticed that as she tried to open the book, there was a presence of magic around it. With a flick of her wand and a whispered incantation that effortlessly flowed from her mind, the invisible lock clicks open the book. The three all glance at each other with curiosity. They eagerly flip through the pages, revealing the surprising images within.

Harry peers over Hermione's shoulder, “What do you see, Hermione?”

Hermione gasps softly, “ It's... it's a baby. But... wait, something's changing.”

Ron interrupts, “Changing? What do you mean by changing?”Hermione turns the page, and they watch as the baby's features morph into those of a young girl. “She's... she's growing older right before our eyes.”

Ron exclaims, “That's... that's incredible!”

They continue to flip through the pages, each image revealing a different moment in time. Suddenly, they come across a picture of a much younger Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.Harry says, “That’s  Dumbledore…”

Hermione turns the page again, and they see a young Gellert Grindelwald standing beside Dumbledore, their faces alight with excitement, and happiness. “It's them... when they were friends…no, wait…Do you think they were more than just friends?”

Ron replies with furrowed eyebrows, “There’s no bloody way that they could’ve been together Mione. It’s a bit hard to believe, I mean, Grindelwald was an evil wizard.” The trio falls silent as they continue to explore the scrapbook, each lost in their own thoughts, revealing images of the girl with both Albus and Gellert. Then, Hermione gasps once more, her eyes widening in surprise, as she changes the page once more.

“Look at this!” Hermione exclaims to Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron lean in to see what has caught Hermione's attention. They see the teenage girl, dressed in Slytherin robes, dancing with a young Tom Riddle.

Harry says flabbergasted and angrily, “Tom Riddle? What's he doing here?”

Hermione replies, also in an extremely surprised state, still trying to process what was in front of her, “I'm not sure, but... it looks like they're... dancing?

Ron says, “Well…quite the surprise there huh?”

Harry replies coldly, “Yeah, to say the least.” They exchange puzzled glances before turning their attention back to the scrapbook, eager to uncover more secrets hidden within its pages.

Hermione turned a couple of more pages, each with more images of the lovely young couple, until writing appeared over the next blank page. The words that appeared in front of the trio were of Dumbledore. The three read his note:

I see you have received the scrapbook I left for you. The contents of this book have much you need to know about my past, my secrets, the loves and losses that shaped my life. I was not always the wise old wizard you see before you. There was a time when I was young, foolish, and in love. I was in love with Gellert Grindelwald. He was many things. He was also brilliant, charismatic, and enchanting. We shared a bond that transcended mere friendship. We even married in secret, during a time of great turmoil. But our love was not to last. We had a child conceived by a surrogate, and bore a daughter. She was our greatest joy and our deepest sorrow. She bore the weight of our mistakes and our regrets. She was a Slytherin. She was brilliant, ambitious, and fiercely loyal. But she was also troubled, haunted by the shadows of our past. It wasn’t until she fell in love with Tom Riddle, the boy who would become Voldemort, that she found her way to regain a part of her that was lost because of me and Gellert. Their romance was nothing that I would have anticipated. I couldn’t bear to see her with a boy as troubled as her, but they prevailed. I thought he would corrupt her. She died on May 13, 1943. A casualty of a war she never chose to fight. A victim of a destiny she could not escape. A casualty by my own hand. I have learned that love is both a gift and a burden. It has the power to lift us up to the highest heights and drag us down to the darkest depths. But in the end, it is what defines us, what binds us together, even in death.

Silence descends upon the room, broken only by the soft rustle of pages as the trio processes Dumbledore's revelations, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to grapple with the weight of his confessions.

Ron spoke first, trying to relieve the tension, “Well, uhm…who would’ve thought that Dumbledore’s daughter would be the one to make Riddle’s heart go soft?”

Hermione whacked his arm with a paper repeatedly and yelled, “Oh Ronald Weasley! This is not the time for your stupid jokes, this is serious.”

Ron replied, trying to dodge her blows, “Bloody hell woman, that hurts!” 

Harry pondered on his thoughts as Hermione and Ron were arguing. There was no way that Tom Riddle could ever love someone, there was just no way. It was truly hard for Harry to believe that the Tom Riddle-Lord Voldemort-himself was ever in love, or had a heart. Harry spoke up and exclaimed exasperatedly, “I still don’t get it. How is any of this supposed to help us? I mean even if Riddle loved Dumbledore’s daughter, she’s dead. This was just a waste.”

Just as Harry had finished his sentence, the note disappeared, and more writing came up. Hermione moved towards the book and read the writing out loud:

My daughter, while she supposedly died…I have to mention that nothing is as true as it seems. I had to protect her, or so I thought. My actions, while they may seem extreme, were important to me years ago. Now that I realize that I may have been wrong…In fact…I had taken all necessary precautions…She is…alive. The images within this scrapbook are all clues that will help you find her. They all have meaning and are small parts to the larger puzzle. I had to make sure that this scrapbook was in the right hands. Best of luck Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger…I will leave you with your first direct clue…her name is…Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore-Grindelwald. 

Tom Riddle Masterlist

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