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dreamcubed · 1 year

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call it what you want | draco malfoy x reader

song; call it what you want [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x fem!muggle!reader genre; fluff, angst, forbidden love, s2l word count; 4,3k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; draco's daddy issues, low-key y/n's daddy issues, references to the second wizarding war (and draco's part in it), discrimination (of muggleborns) summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

suggested by @tendous-pretty-hair !!

masterlist

"my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new."

also i have fucking eras tour tickets!!!

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Draco had found himself at an emotional stand-still ever since the Second Wizarding War - more specifically the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. After he had regrettably joined Voldemort's side in the mass fallout, only for him to lose anyway. He wasn't sentenced to any time in Azkaban, since it was deemed that he had been coerced into the situation, as backed up by his mother, who had been pardoned due to saving Harry Potter's life in the final moments. His father, however, would never feel the light of happiness again, caged away in the breeding ground of fear.

It wasn't that Draco missed Lucius all that much, in fact, quite the opposite. The time away from him had allowed him and Narcissa to grow closer, and also given him the opportunity to properly question and break down the beliefs that had been hammered into his head since infancy.

Eventually, he decided to step foot into unknown territory: muggle London. He had only ever been to the magic side of it before, but he had come to the realisation that living such a sheltered life was the reason he wound up another of Voldemort's slaves. That lifestyle would be no more.

He found himself stood outside of a small music store, displayed to have vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes inside - whatever they were. Draco did know what music was, however, and wanted to understand the way that muggles experienced it. So, he stepped foot into the shop with the tinkling of a tiny silver bell above him alerting whoever was working behind the tall overflowing shelves.

There were more people perusing the shelves than he had anticipated, so he ducked his head down and headed to an emptier area of the shop. As he began scanning the labels on the shelves, his confusion grew as he realised that he recognised none of the names.

"You don't look like a death metal fan," a voice to his left caught him by surprise, making him jump.

He turned around to have his eyes meet the gaze of a woman wearing an amused smile. You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his skittishness.

"Forgive me, but it's not everyday we have a man dressed in a perfectly ironed suit come and check out the works of Morbid Angel."

After his brain caught up to him, he said, "You work here?"

You nodded, "Family business - me and my mum."

Draco didn't reply to your statement, turning back to the shelves.

"You seem a little lost, first time in a music shop?"

"Uh- yeah," he said, "My family never played music growing up." That was a lie - the Malfoys had held many a musical event, however, they took the form of private orchestral bands.

"You're joking," your expression was that of shock, "How have you lived such a musicless life?"

He shrugged.

"God, I was practically raised on music- I mean, obviously," you gestured around you, "It's everything to me."

"My father was a very strict man," he said simply, making you hum.

"I see. God, I just can't believe you've hardly listened to music - we have to change that," you said, "Do you have any idea what sort of sounds you like?"

"I think I like classical music," it was all he had ever really known.

You grinned, "Yeah, that definitely suits the way you're dressed more than death metal. Come on, I'll set you up with some stuff. Vinyls, CDs or tapes?"

From what he could gather, vinyls were the larger circles, and he was pretty sure that Malfoy Manor had a phonograph with the large brass tube attached for the purpose of playing them. Like the one he saw at the Yule Ball all those years ago. "Uh, vinyl? The big black disc?"

You bobbed your head, "They're becoming less popular these days - people mostly want CDs," you then paused for a moment, "Although my mum said they'll probably have a resurgence in another twenty years. Making an aesthetic of past trends and all that."

Draco listened curiously as you babbled on about different musicians, bands, and albums, finding himself enraptured by the way you carried yourself. Salazar, his father would throw a fit if he found out that he was willingly talking to a muggle.

But his father wasn't there.

"So, do any of these interest you?" you finished, smiling at the ever stoic man before you.

"Uh, yes- all of them," he wasn't sure if he liked the music genre you suggested or the way you talked so passionately.

"All of them?" you tilted your head, "That's- like- hundreds of pounds."

He began digging around in his pockets for the money he had exchanged earlier before coming, and your eyes widened at the sight of all the twenty pound notes.

"Right," you said in a state of shock, "I'll... ring these up for you."

As you totalled up the price and packaged the vinyls into a bag over at the till, the man watched you, as if he was meticulously detailing your every move. Weirdly, it didn't feel creepy.

"Okay that will be... £404.39," you said, in awe of the fact he seemed unfazed by the number.

He began counting out the notes, before handing them over to you: £420 worth of twenty pound notes in your hand. You counted the change out and handed it back to him, placing the receipt in the bag.

"Thank you for shopping here, come again..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"Draco," he said, stopping himself before saying his last name. Although he knew that you wouldn't recognise it anyway.

You couldn't help but think that he had a peculiar name; regardless, you smiled, and said, "Y/N. Please come again."

He nodded, taking the bag and leaving the shop swiftly without so much as looking back once.

***

A week passed by and Draco found himself stood outside of the record shop, unsure of why he had returned. During his last visit he had purchased months worth of music, so really he had no need to be back.

Except, he did.

His social circle had been non-existent ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, not because Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott no longer wanted to be friends with him, but because he had isolated himself in Malfoy Manor with his mother. Draco was nearing being ready to owl them again, but reconnecting with them meant inevitably having to unpack the events of the war.

With a muggle stranger like you, however, there was no unpacking to do.

"Draco, you're back," you grinned, coming out from behind the till, "I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

His abrupt question caught you off guard, "Well, I- I don't know. You're an interesting character," that and you thought he was cute.

Draco stared blankly at you, making you shift uncomfortably on your feet. Eventually, you decided to change the subject.

"Here for more music?"

"Oh, uh- yes."

"Well, what were your favourites from last week's purchases?"

After he told you which ones he had enjoyed the most, you were able to develop some kind of idea as to specific kinds of music to indulge him into. Of course, you had a question burning at the back of your mind that you simply had to ask.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"It's just- vinyls aren't cheap, especially not in as large a quantity as you get them," you elaborated, "I assume you have a well paying job."

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "Family money."

"You mean old money?" you couldn't help but clarify.

He reluctantly nodded, "Yes, old money." He used to be so boastful and prideful of the Malfoy family legacy, but in that moment, despite you having no idea who he was, he could only feel shame when he thought of it.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy," you chuckled, "Let's continue your musical adventure."

Even as you proceeded to serve him with a chipper attitude, you couldn't help but be saddened by learning that he was old money. There was no way that you stood a chance, since old money families liked to marry each other and not someone who was simply the daughter of a small record shop.

At least you learned that piece of information about him early on, you reasoned.

***

"Back? Again?" you questioned incredulously, spying Draco stood in the doorway of your shop, "Hate to turn you away, but we're about to close."

"I know."

You paused, frowning slightly as you grasped hold of the door, "Uh, okay, then... bye?" You began slowly shutting the door.

"Wait."

Again, you paused.

"I need help."

Opening the door fully again, you placed a hand on your hip as you said, "With regards to what?"

You didn't know what to think when he presented a small battered flip phone to you on his milky white palm.

"A phone?"

"I found it. On the floor."

"Musta fell outta someone's pocket," you shrugged, "Happens - why do you need help?"

"Well, don't we need to do something about it?"

All you could do was look at him curiously.

"Is that not- is that not what you do?" maybe he was overcompensating for his past by trying desperately to do one small good deed, or maybe he was trying to prove to you that he was a good person even though you had no reason to believe otherwise. Either way, he wanted to return the muggle contraption to its rightful owner.

"I mean- I guess? If you're feeling nice," you said simply, "Can't lie, I'd probably leave it for someone else to deal with."

"How do I return it?"

You sighed, "Just call the last person they called."

"Right, okay."

Much to your confusion, Draco stared at the device as if he was trying to will it into doing what he wanted.

"You do know how to call someone, yes?" you asked, your arms now folded across your chest.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head.

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside, "Come in."

Once Draco was inside your shop, you shut the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Give it," you made a grabbing motion with your fingers, and the man before you immediately handed over the device, "It's really easy-" he watched in amazement as you flipped open the phone, "-just use the arrow buttons here to go to call history- and, oh, look! Last person they called was their mum- press the green call button and bam."

You presented the now dialling phone to him.

"They have been notified now?"

"Well, her phone will be ringing- hopefully she'll pick up."

"Pick up?"

"Hello?" a voice from the phone announced, "Cadie?"

"Hello, ma'am, your daughter dropped her phone and we found it."

"Oh, I see. Thank you- I'll let her know so she can pick it up. Where's a good place?"

As you told the concerned mother the address of your record shop, you watched Draco's intrigued expression.

You hung up, placing the phone on a nearby surface and beginning to walk to the back room, "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

He stared blankly at you for a few moments, before nodding, "Please."

"How do you take it?"

"No milk, one sugar."

You chuckled to yourself at his strange way of having tea.

***

Draco watched you as you chatted mindlessly while sipping your tea, almost entirely forgetting that he had his own cup sat to his side. Your topics were classically boring - yet so interesting to him. He was enthralled to learn about the different characters in your family, and the trials and tribulations of your school years. He hadn't even realised how little he had said until you pointed it out.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" he went, snapping out of his daze.

"I feel like I've just been talking about myself this entire time. Where did you go to school?"

"Oh- uh-" he desperately pulled together all his thoughts, "A private boarding school in Scotland."

Your mouth dropped open, "Wow, that's cool."

He shrugged.

"Did you miss your family while you were away all year?"

Again, he shrugged, "My mother, yes- my father... not so much."

"I don't see my father at all," you added, to make him feel more comfortable about sharing details of his own father, "I used to... but I realised it was always me reaching out and not him so I stopped. Haven't heard from him since."

Draco nodded, "My father is in prison."

He didn't know why he told you, only realising what he had just said when you froze for a few seconds with widened eyes.

"Can I ask what for?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh... terrorism, murder... that sort of thing," he had no clue why he was being so honest. Had you put veritaserum in the tea?

You cleared your throat, wanting to delicately change the subject but lacking a way on how to do it naturally. Draco observed you, and opened his mouth to say something more when a knock sounded on the door.

"That's- uh- that's probably the phone owner," you said quickly, rushing to your feet to run out of the back room and let them in.

You opened the door to be faced with a short brunette woman.

"Cadie?" you questioned.

She nodded, "You have my phone?"

"Yes, come in."

"Thank you so much- I really can't afford a new one right now," she sighed, "I'm always losing things."

You chuckled, "I know how you feel- I'm always breaking things."

Draco appeared in the doorway to the back and picked up the phone from the counter.

Cadie sighed happily, accepting the phone and thanking the both of you profusely.

"Seriously, you have no idea how appreciative I am."

"It's no trouble, Cadie, really," you assured her.

She paused for a moment, looking around. "Is this your shop?"

You bobbed your head, "Yes, it's family-owned."

"Oh, that's so cool," she looked towards Draco, "So this is your husband?"

You were so taken aback you couldn't even form a response. Before either of you could reply, the phone began ringing.

"It's my boss! I have to take this," she said, "Thank you so much again. You two are a cute couple." And with that final comment, she departed, leaving you and Draco in an awkward silence.

"I-" you began, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Go on a date with me," Draco hurriedly said, realising he had said it like an order rather than an innocent question. He was still in some ways his old bossy teenage self, socialised in a slightly abnormal way.

You took it in good humour, however, and smiled, "I would love to."

***

The following six months were filled with the fanciest and most luxurious dates that you could ever have possibly imagined: five star restaurants, weekends in Paris, and expensive gifts. It was heaven in all ways but one - Draco always had an excuse for you not meeting his family and friends.

For a while, you had ignored the itching feeling that he was ashamed of you and so kept you a secret, but your suspicions grew until you couldn't keep it in anymore. You had to confront him about it.

"...and I was thinking, we should go out for dinner with your mother," you said, flicking through a magazine as Draco sat on the sofa in your small but homely flat.

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever's good for her."

You heard Draco's breath hitch.

"What? Can't come up with an excuse to get out of this one?" your tone held evident bite.

Draco turned around to face you, but his expression was unreadable.

"Are you ashamed of me, Draco?"

His eyes widened.

"I know I'm not rich, let alone old money, but I'd like to think that I'm a likeable person."

He shook his head, "It's not that-"

"Then what is it, Draco?" you snapped, feeling tears fill up your eyes, "You won't even introduce me to your friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

He stood up and began shifting on his feet and fidgeting with his hands, "It's more complicated than that."

"What? You're engaged to someone else?"

Again, he shook his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" you waved your hands about, "Because I can't date someone who treats me like a secret."

"You wouldn't believe me!" he yelled, clearly unintentionally.

You were shocked: you had never heard him yell before. "Try me," you said, your voice low.

He sighed, moving around helplessly for a few moments before striding over to his bag by your front door. He reached his hand in - what appeared to be deeper than the bag's actual depth, but you dismissed it due to your blurred vision - and pulled out a blank piece of paper, tinged brown.

He came over to you and placed it on the kitchen island you were stood behind, and pointed at the bottom of the page. "Sign here."

"It's blank," you thought he was insane.

"Just trust me. Please."

You gave him a skeptical look, but wiped your eyes and picked up a pen nonetheless, writing your signature in the area he pointed to. To your amazement, the second you finished the last letter of your name, writing appeared on the paper. As you scanned it, you were increasingly confused.

- By signing this non-disclosure agreement, you agree that as a muggle you shall not disclose the existence of wizardry and witchcraft to anyone not already in knowledge of it. You understand that by doing so, you would be breaking the law and could face potential criminalisation. The wizard or witch of whom has vouched for your approval to know of magic shall also face potential criminalisation in such a situation.

It will no longer be a criminal offence for wizards and witches to perform magic with you as a witness unless there are unapproved muggles also present.

You will be granted access to wizard-only areas including but not limited to Diagon Alley and Platfrom Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross provided that you are accompanied by a wizard or witch. Please be aware that these permissions may vary in other countries depending on their laws surrounding muggle knowledge of magic and also their acceptance of the British Muggle Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Please sign your name below. -

"What is this?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

"An NDA."

"Yes, I- I gathered that- but- what does it mean?"

"It means... that I'm a wizard."

Part of you wanted to burst out laughing at Draco's insane words, but the way he said it held so much depth that you couldn't help but take it seriously.

"Prove it."

You didn't know what you had expected, but you certainly didn't anticipate your boyfriend pulling out a wand and muttering what sounded like Latin under his breath.

The pen on the table before you morphed into a feather.

There were really no words to describe how you felt in that moment. You asked him to do it again - he turned the feather into a sharpener. You asked him to do it one more time - he turned the sharpener into a fork.

"Oh my God," you said at the volume of a whisper, stepping back and falling against the counter behind you, "What the actual fuck."

"I know this may come as a shock to you..."

"Really?" you said, "No, actually. Not freaking out at all. Not even a little."

He pursed his lips, "My family is what is known as pure-bloods. We haven't mixed with muggles when it comes to reproduction at any point in our bloodline - allegedly."

You stared at him.

"Sometimes, a witch or wizard can be born of muggle parents - we call them muggle-borns. Half-bloods make up the most of wizarding society - their ancestors are a mix of muggle, muggle-born, pure-blood and half-blood."

At your lack of speech, he continued.

"There is a culture of supremacy among pure-blood families - choosing to reproduce only with other pure-bloods to ensure the pure-blooded line continues as they believe themselves to be the only true witches and wizards."

"You're pure-blood," you mumbled.

Draco nodded, "I used to think like that. Used to bully muggle-borns in school - the school I went to being specifically for witches and wizards."

"You don't think like that anymore?"

"No," he quickly said, "I've had a lot of time to question everything I was taught to believe - but, I- there's something really bad I have to tell you. It may change your opinion of me forever and it's the reason why I have kept you away from my family and friends."

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"Years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world..." he began.

***

You had never seen Draco in tears before, but when he reached the details of the final showdown between Harry Potter (a heroic celebrity in the wizarding world) and Lord Voldemort (a wizard terrorist), he broke down in sobs as he recalled him walking over to the latter's side. Tears were falling down your cheeks soon too, and you quickly brought Draco into your arms and felt him collapse into you.

"I regret it every single day," he said through sobs, "Why didn't I have more of a backbone?"

"You were just a boy, Draco," you soothed him, "You didn't want your family to be killed."

He cried harder.

"My opinion of you is not changed - by the sounds of it you never actually killed anyone yourself," you thought back to the Professor Dumbledore section of the story, "In fact, it sounds like you couldn't bring yourself to."

"I can never make up for my past, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "You dating a muggle is pretty solid evidence you're trying to."

"I'm not dating you because you're muggle," he pulled back from you and looked you in the eyes.

You chuckled slightly, wiping the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs, "That's not what I was saying. Young you would have never even considered entering the muggle world, and yet here adult you is."

He gave you a small smile, "I love you."

You beamed, but teardrops were still cascading down your cheeks, "I love you too."

"Let's have dinner with my mother on Sunday."

***

"Mr Malfoy, you may see your father now," the Azkaban worker said, who Draco couldn't help but think reminded him strongly of Filch. An old miserable man with long scraggly hair, an unmissable limp, and filthy dark-coloured robes. Then again, at least this worker had a reason to be miserable all the time: working in the breeding ground of fear and desolation. Filch was by all means in a much more cheerful environment.

Draco nodded at him, and followed his lead down shadowed narrow corridors, caked in dirt and dust. They turned a few corners and went up a few sets of dangerously steep stairs before reaching a cell block with moans and whines coming from every cell - except one.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't known what to expect when he came to see his father: he hadn't visited once since his arrest. But Lucius looked quite different than the proud man he once was, with his once well-kept long blond hair being knotty and entwined with filth, and his once healthy (albeit pale) complexion being overly skinny with sallow sunken features. He looked up at his son, still being able to produce a slight scowl.

"So, you finally decided to visit," he drawled, but his voice was too broken to hold the same threat it used to.

"Yes, father, I have some things I need to say to you," despite Lucius' weakened state, Draco still held some lifelong fear of the man, but he had to remain strong in front of him.

"And what would that be?"

"I have a girlfriend, and I plan to propose to her."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Your mother has not mentioned this," Narcissa frequently visited her husband.

"She didn't find out until last week."

After some seconds of silence, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Draco at the cell gate. "What is her name?"

"Y/N L/N."

"L/N does not ring a bell. Which bloodline is she from?"

Draco felt intimidated by his father's close proximity, but still managed a smirk, "She isn't of pure blood, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened, "You don't mean to say she's- half blood? Or worse- a- a mudblood?"

"Worse," his smirk grew, "She's muggle."

The ghostly shock that flooded over Lucius' face made Draco feel a triumph over his father he had never felt before, and gave him the confidence to feel as though he had the upper hand in their interaction. He stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice.

"And I'm going to marry her, and have children with her, and you will have to spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell knowing that the Malfoy pure blood line has been permanently tainted."

"You can't do this," Lucius said through gritted teeth, "After everything we fought for."

Draco hummed, "See, I thought it was time for me to finally fight for something good."

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masterlist

written; 02/06/2023 —> 17/07/2023 published; 17/07/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

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drvconian · 11 months

Text

How You Get the Girl ...

“I just don’t know what I did.” Ron complains, leaning into the back of the couch in the Common Room, his eyes closed and his eyebrows pinched. It’s late, almost everyone else has gone to bed, which is why he speaks quietly to you: it makes you feel like you’re sharing a secret, which you technically are, but everything feels more special when it’s just Ron and you.

You like Hermione and Harry just fine, but when you all got together as a group, it always felt that he preferred them more, especially Hermione. You could understand why: she was smart and pretty, both things you envied about her. Your jealousy wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t seem like you caught Ron staring at her all the bloody time.

You shake your head, smiling softly over at him. “Girls are fragile, Ron. You can’t be as brutish as you are with your brothers or Harry.” You laugh quietly, “what kind of girl would take that as a compliment anyway?”

“I dunno.” He replies, rolling his eyes. “I would, though.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well, you gotta help me then.”

You widen your eyes at him, clearly taken aback at his request. “You want me to help you get with Hermione?”

Ron moves in closer, nodding his head slightly. “You have to. You’re one of my closest friends, I dunno who else to go to with this.”

Your heart beats hard in your chest, you have no idea how to feel. The sentiment is nice, that he trusts you enough to ask for your advice on how to impress the girl he fancies. On the other hand, it hurts to know that he even fancies another girl (even though you knew) and that he expects you to help him. You want to say no and try to convince him that Hermione and him would never work out, so you surprise yourself when… “okay, Ron. I’ll help you.”

...

A knock on your door drags you out of your reverie. You close the book in your lap and place it on the table beside you, and unfold your legs. They’re stiff from how long you’ve been sitting on your couch, and you wince slightly. You stand up and make your way over to the door, opening it slightly to peek at whoever it could be.

“Ron?”

He’s standing in your doorway, hunched over in his jacket. He’s soaking wet, his hair dripping onto his face and his jacket a shade darker than it’s supposed to be. He looks miserable standing there, but his face brightens when he sees you. “You answered.”

You nod before opening the door wider, “are you insane? Come inside before you catch a cold.”

He steps inside, brushing against you, and stands barely in the doorway. The water on his clothes drips down onto your floor, and you quickly close the door behind the two of you. You open up a closet close to the door and pull down a towel, handing it over to him so he can dry off. You watch him, the air between the two of you thickening.

“It’s been a long six months.” He begins, peeking out at you from beneath the towel that he’s drying his hair off with. You watch him, worrying your bottom lip. You don’t know what to say, you hadn’t seen him since your final, chaotic days at Hogwarts – even then, you hadn’t seen him for a long time before then. He hadn’t contacted you at all. He takes a deep breath. “I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted. I’ve always been too scared of that.”

...

“Tell her something cheesy like… I want you for worse or for better. It’ll help defuse the tension since she’s upset with you. It’s sort of cute, and it’ll help lead into you telling her you like her.”

He nods in a more attentive way than he ever had in class. Your stomach twists – you could sabotage this whole thing, yet you weren’t. Hermione was your friend just as much as Ron was your best friend. You weren’t cruel. You just happened to like Ron more than she probably did.

“And then maybe you can add in something like: I would wait forever. To show your dedication.”

“Dedication? I’m not looking to marry her!”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what I meant! You’re just buttering her up, but you don’t have to say that if you don’t want to-”

“I’d only say that if I meant it.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes again. How romantic. You feel a pang in your heart at that thought… at least he wanted to confess to Hermione.

“Okay, well, you hurt her, right? Admit that you did, and say that you want to fix it.”

...

“We were best friends, Ron. You could’ve told me anything, hell, you almost bloody did!” You cross your arms, conflicted on whether to laugh or be annoyed with him. “You told me way too much sometimes.”

He doesn’t smile or laugh the way he might’ve at the suggestive joke when he was younger. Something seems to settle within him, and he pulls the towel off of his head. He takes a slight step forward, and you feel the tension settle between the two of you. You rarely saw Ron this serious, though it seems to be a more permanent emotion during and after the war.

“I broke your heart.”

Everything around you stills. Your own heart stills. That was one truth you had kept to yourself throughout all those years, throughout all of his relationships. So many little fragments over the years had gathered until, just about half a year ago, it had finally shattered and he had walked away from you. Your chest feels tight as you wonder who could have told him.

“I want to put it back together.” He swallows, his words trembling just the slightest bit. “I know now that I will wait forever.”

...

You're sitting in the Great Hall as Ron eats lunch while you work on your homework. You’re focused on a particular list of ingredients for a potion when Ron speaks. “That stuff you told me worked, by the way. Thanks.”

“Oh. With Hermione? Good.” You force yourself to sound happy, even looking up to smile at Ron across the table.

“She forgave me, sort of. I don’t think she understood what I was really trying to say.”

You sigh, rolling up your parchment and setting it aside. You’d get back to it later. “You’re back to being just friends?”

He nods, “I couldn’t just outright tell her! She’d probably think I was joking or something.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You lean across the table so you can lower your voice. “You could bring up the ways you’ve subtly flirted with her. There’s that picture we took where you’re staring at her. You wouldn’t let her see it, remember? You could show it to her.” You settle back into your seat, reaching to unroll your parchment again.

“How do I explain why I didn’t just show her then?”

You pull your quill out of your ink, already returning to writing down another ingredient. “Tell her you lost your mind.”

...

You remember sitting on the Common Room couch, when one of those fragments joined the many others. When Ron first started fully showing interest in Hermione and you knew you had no chance with him. No, Ronald Weasley wouldn’t show up at your door and suddenly confess to you, when he and Hermione had finally found their happy ending sometime during the battle at Hogwarts. He couldn’t be saying that.

“Ron… what are you saying? Is everything okay?” You want to feel his forehead, to see if his cold has already set in and he didn’t realize what he was saying. Your heart is hammering inside of your chest.

“Don’t you remember how it used to be? We were always alone.” His voice becomes steadier as he talks and he grows closer to you, his eyes brightening. “We spent so many nights together, talking on the Common Room couch. It was always just us at lunch. We even went on walks just to talk.”

“That’s because, usually, Hermione and Harry were busy. We didn’t have a choice-”

“I did. I didn’t know it then, but I always had a choice and I always made it.” He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a look you know you’ve never seen before. You had known Ron since first year, and you knew almost every look and what it meant. You didn’t know this one.

“I was such an idiot. I am such an idiot. You’ve been in front of me this whole time, and I didn’t see it.”

...

It’s one of the rare moments where you somehow end up alone with Harry. You’re sitting in the library, waiting for Ron and Hermione to show up so you can start your study session together. You already have your parchment and ink out, along with several books on the table. Harry’s setup mimics yours, and you’re both leaned over the table.

The two of you don’t talk much, you’re both connected by your friendship with Ron. While you’ve become friends with Hermione, you and Harry are still more like strangers.

The sound of footsteps approaching causes you to look up from your books. You knew it was Ron, you didn’t have to be looking to know it was him whenever he was near. What you didn’t expect was for Hermione to be walking next to him. They sometimes entered together, having run into each other or they had been previously hanging out. The part you didn’t expect was their intertwined hands, and the large grins on their faces. Their rosy cheeks.

It happened.

Harry looks up from across you, and his face immediately splits into a grin. He’s happy for his friends, and you should be too. You mimic his smile, trying to mask the way your heart feels like it’s breaking. Ron looks victorious, like he’s just won the final Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin. All you can feel welling up inside of you is defeat, because this is your fault. You could have just denied him the help, and maybe it’d be you holding his hand and smiling.

Would Harry even be smiling like that if it was you?

...

“I want you.”

Eight years. Ninety-six months. Four thousand, three hundred and eighty days. That’s about the time you had known Ron. You had spent more than half of that wanting him. You had spent the latter half of that knowing it was never going to happen.

Never had you expected that during your ninth year of friendship, he would tell you the thing you had wished for all that time. The thing you had hidden in journals or in daydreams you were ashamed of. You had spent years making up crushes and having Ron try to help you the way you helped with Hermione.

“But you- you and Hermione… I can’t-”

“Hermione and I broke up a while ago. She said she knew from the beginning that we wouldn’t last.” You wince at that, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s smiling down at you. “She said she knew who I would end up with.”

Oh.

“It’s been obvious this whole time, hasn’t it? That it was you?”

Oh.

“I mean, even Harry saw it. After ‘Mione and I split, we all had dinner and he told me that I was a blind idiot for not noticing sooner.” He laughs slightly, “he also made me realize how much I’ve hurt you over the years.”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve wished for this moment practically your whole life, and now that it’s here, you’re lost. In your mind, you would end up with someone your parents’ set you up with and you’d live your version of a mediocre happy ever after. You’d spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that Ron loved someone else and he had and would never love you.

You’re staring up at him. You had stared up at him so many times before, but never like this. Never with him confessing to you. Never with him smiling at you so tenderly and so happily. Never with so much affection.

Softly, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. You reach your hand up and rest it on his wrist. The two of you stay like that for a moment.

Your voice is quiet when you finally speak. “Do you mean it?”

His eyes never leave yours as he nods his head. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist. You want to weep into him but also scream with joy: you’ve never felt this happy.

You pull away slightly to look at him. “It’s always been you, Ron. For worse or for better. Slug puking or Quidditch winning. It’s you.”

He pulls you close again, his head resting on top of yours. You press your head to his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

It’s beating just as fast as yours.

...

You listen to the birds chirp as you walk down the street. It’s slightly windy, but the heat from the sun keeps whatever chill the wind carries away. There’s the faint smell of flowers coming from the flower vendor just down the street, next to the diner where you’re supposed to be grabbing lunch from.

You’re not very familiar with this part of town. It’s not near your flat, and you had to Apparate to get there.

You pull open the door to the diner, and a bell chimes to alert the people inside of your presence. Muggles. You smile slightly at the gesture, and make your way inside. You look around, before you spot a pair of brown hair and glasses.

Harry spots you first and his face breaks into a smile. At this, Hermione turns around and greets you with a smile too. Harry stands up out of the booth and pulls Ron, who has been holding your hand this whole entire time, into a hug. Hermione stands up and pulls you into a side hug. It’s a little awkward, but maybe you’ll get more comfortable with each other someday.

Everyone is smiling as you slide into the booth beside Hermione. She picks up the menu and hands it to you, “I have to recommend the cheeseburger…”

Word Count: 2270

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missdawnandherdusk · 3 months

Text

The Defendant

The Case

Summary: You get assigned a case as the last step in your path to become a public defender. What happens when those anonymous names and numbers become people of your past?

A/n: Hi my loves! I am so glad that you guys are excited for this--because I am. They're so angsty and I love them. Anyway, enjoy a little bit more~

(p.s. i cleaned up my taglist to the best of what tumblr would let me so if you want to be added let me know!)

The case of Draco Malfoy.

The Draco Malfoy.

Slytherin protégée.

And a giant pain in my ass all throughout school.

And now here I was with his court case on my kitchen table after I thought I would never have to see his name again. Last I heard he left with his family and was in Paris. But this case was something the Prophet didn’t have their hands on. No one knew Draco was on trial for murder.

Draco wasn’t in Azkaban like I had thought. He was wandless and living at his family’s manor under house arrest. I had half a thought to take the trip out to the manor. Surely, I could contact someone who knew where it was.

I sent a few owls out. Whether I could work this case or not was still a mystery to me, but if I showed up empty handed on Tuesday, I’d be screwed either way. I had to work this case like I didn’t know. Like it didn’t matter. Like everything was fine.

Hermione answered me first. She had more questions than I did but she knew the laws better than me: there was a possibility that I could legally work this case. She also had the address for the manor. Wiltshire. It wasn’t far from my little town. It wouldn’t make a hard trip.

If Draco wanted to see me was another matter entirely. My heart sank in my chest. If he didn’t cooperate I could lose everything. And Draco wasn’t the cooperative type.

Somewhere fate had to be laughing at me.

I dreaded 4pm on Tuesday.

But I knocked on the office door anyway.

“Come in,”

I took a deep breath, my anxiety caught in my throat. I didn’t know what would come of this meeting. There was still a chance that I couldn’t work on this case because I was a witness in it, but if this was the only way to pass my exams then I didn’t know what else I could do.

“Dr. Dresden, there seems to be a problem with this case,” I said, taking a seat.

“I’m aware.”

“It’s not what you think,” My palms began to sweat. “Professor I can’t work this case.”

“So you wish to fail.”

“No! No! Please, no,” I shook my head. “I can’t work on this case because I know who this case is about.”

“And that makes you incapable?”

“What? No,” I struggled for words but Dr. Dresden pressed on.

“Miss Y/l/n you are aware of my rules. If you do not work this case to closing, you will fail and you will not become a public defender. Now, I’m sorry that you know these people, but did you think this job did not entail defending people you once knew?”

“No sir,” My face became solemn. “Sir I have a witness statement in this case.”

“I am aware.”

“But you gave me this case.”

“Miss Y/l/n if you are going to waste my time stating the obvious, perhaps I should fail you now.”

“No, please.” I begged. So this is how we were doing this. I squared my shoulders and pressed on. “Okay. I’ve contacted the other witnesses and have set up a few interviews and I also have the address for Malfoy Manor. I’ll visit next week.”

“I see. And what do you make of the case?”

“There’s got to be something missing. If Malfoy says he killed Dumbledore but his wand doesn’t there has to be something else going on,” I said flipping through my notes. “There are also a few witnesses who say they don’t believe Malfoy is capable of murder.”

“And what do you make of that?”

“I don’t know yet. I need to talk to Malfoy.”

“Then it seems like we’re finished for today. I will see you next week,”

“Yes professor. Thank you,” I bowed my head and left his office, now making solid plans.

I was going to acquit Draco Malfoy.

Or figure out if he really was capable of murder.

The next day I was on the manor steps wondering if this was worth it. I had went over it a thousand times: not the a first appearance, then plea day, then pre-trial conference notes. No no, there had to have been a million different ways that I phrased saying hello to him; explaining what I was doing; begging for him to help me; and maybe a few where I moved across the world and never looked at him or this stupid case again. Those ones were a little fun to imagine.

It was chilly in Wiltshire and a mist hung in the air around the magnificent house. It was as if the air and house itself were hiding secrets that not even a stray sunbeam could find.

The door opened and though it had been years since I had since him, Draco Malfoy stood in front of me, his gaze just as pensive and guarded. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but he beat me to it.

“Y/n?”

“You know my name?” In every single conversation I had dreamed of, not one of them did I ever imagine him knowing my name.

“We sat next to each other in potions for four years.” He said plainly. “What are you doing here?” He tilted his head, an amused smirk on his lips.

I inhaled sharply. “I was assigned your case. I’m your new defense attorney.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay, no really, why are you here?” He didn’t believe me.

“I’m telling you the truth, I was assigned your case.” I pulled the official letter from my bag. “From Dr. Dresden himself,”

“So you’re the one he chose,” Draco said, plucking the letter from my hands.

“What?”

“He told me he had a promising student who might be able to acquit me—or finally put me out of my misery.” Draco shrugged and handed the letter back to me.

“Oh.” I didn’t know I was personally chosen for this case. It made me wonder how many strings were pulled for this and if fate really was laughing somewhere.

“Well, I’m sorry to waste your time, but I’m not interested in closing the case,” He shrugged.

See, now that I did expect.

“I need to close this case.” I said firmly.

“I’m sorry, but no,”

“You don’t get a choice,” My defiance ran deep. “I am closing this case.”

“It’s my case!”

“No.” I said calmly. “It’s my case. And it will be closed. Whether or not you walk free is up to you.”

Draco scrutinized me with narrowed eyes.

“What is this? Some kind of power play?” He asked.

“This is my job. This is what I was given. And this is what I’m going to do.” I reached in my bag and pulled out a spare copy of the case notes and handed it to him. “I’ll be back on Friday. 8 o’clock.”

“I can’t do Friday.”

I gritted my teeth. “Oh, yeah, because you have so many places to be.”

“I can’t do Friday.” He dug in harder. “Saturday. Noon.”

Inhaling sharply I rolled my eyes.

“Fine. Saturday. Noon.”

The Witness

masterlist

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@jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus@tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora

#draco malfoy #harry potter #slytherin #draco x reader #draco x y/n #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco #hogwarts #post war

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sliebman10 · 2 months

Text

Grief/Mourning

Harry had his misgivings about bringing Sirius here. It was the site of unnaturally dark magic after all. And Harry didn’t like to think of what happened here.

Dumbledore. Voldemort. The horcrux. Regulus. Kreacher.

But he would also never say no to Sirius.

So they apparated to the cave by the lake. The malevolent air was not present in the daylight, now that the cave no longer held a part of Voldemort’s soul.

Sirius looked around and crouched by the water.Harry wasn’t sure what to do, but Remus crouched next to him, putting his hand on Sirius’s back.

“D’you think he’s still in there?” Sirius murmured.

“I don’t know, Pads…it was a long time ago,” Remus said, looking out onto the tranquil surface of the lake.

Sirius wasn’t remembering the boy he’d glared at across the Great Hall at Hogwarts. He was remembering the toddler who he ran through the grass with at Grandfather Arcturus’s manor. He was remembering the boy he shielded from his mother’s wand. He was remembering the last act of bravery, switching the horcrux so Voldemort could no longer find it.

Sirius wiped his eyes and stood up. He conjured a wreath of flowers next to the lake.

“Happy birthday, Reggie,” he whispered.

Word count: 208

@wolfstarmicrofic

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar microfic #harry potter #regulus black #post war #the cave #grief/mourning

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cherry-pop-elf · 4 months

Text

SFW Alphabet: George Weasley

To the Anon that requested this, I hope you see this and know that this was the best ask ever. I love you so much, oh my god thank you! 🫂

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

George is such a man of actions. He loves to display his affection proudly. Along with in the form of servitude or gift giving. He’s very loud and proud with it all. He will get you whatever you need, run whatever errand you have, and return to snuggle his face into your lap. Just holding you close. The moment WWW is opened, it gets amplified by a million. He’s a total cuddle bug, and he will make it your problem. Platonic, or romantic. It’s gonna be everyone’s problem that he is loud about it. Guess you can say he’s a little in everything, because of it. Still, his loudest is servitude and gift giving.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He is the most loyal, and fun, best friend to ever have. He is going to give you piggy back rides, as you both run away from whatever trouble you both left behind. He’s going to always have his shoulder ready for when you need to cry. He’s a very emotionally in tuned person when it comes to well, ya know, Emotions! So he is the man you can trust with your secrets, and just need to vent. Very much a living teddy bear. There for when you need to cry, scream, and need someone to hold. Along with pulling a Lupin, and making sure you have sweets for when you need to stuff your face silly over something dumb that happened.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Doesn’t matter if you are romantic, platonic, familia, you will be cuddled by this man. You will be held. He loves cuddles and acts of physical attention. Depending on your size, he will either rest his head in your lap or lay on you. He just wants to be held. Hold this man! Men deserve to be little spoons. Let him be cuddled and held tightly, with his hair played with. Of course, the gesture is returned. He will take care of you all the same. Just holding, and being held, soothes his woes.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Being raised by a family of nine, and also starting his own empire before he was eighteen, he is extremely great with domestic life. Despite what everyone says. Since he has a job he loves, and very much pays the bills, he is so excited to have kids. To have a family so badly, and give them the life he always dreamed of. He’s also the baker of the family, so cooking is no issue. Cleaning? Uh…..Hey, he can cook and will change the diapers no issue. He will be there for the child just as much as you would. What? No ones perfect. He handles the cooking, you handle the cleaning. Being a partner is sharing responsibility’s anyway.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

God, it’s gonna probably messy. He’s the more emotional one of the two, so it’s probably going to end in tears. That is, if the relationship was good and healthy. I can easily see him needing to do something like this, the day before he and Fred had to break out of Hogwarts. Not wanting to put them in any risk of their own actions. Would sit you down, explain what’s going on, and how he wants to focus his full heart and soul into the career. He would cry, but he would have Fred with him for support. If the relationship was shit? Expect a Jack In The Box to blow up in your face with a pie that says ‘It’s Over’ before being smacked in your face. Would even make the pie in your least favorite flavor, to be extra petty.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He took his career at WWW very seriously, so he wouldn’t be as quick to marriage as people would think. He would have 100% have a promise ring, Las Vegas wedding if you joined him in the Umbridge incident. But to actually settle down with kids and such is well after the war. He takes his job seriously. Like, the evidence is clear with how successful it is. He is a committed man, but he is also a man that is passionate about his career. So as long as you are very supportive of it as well, he’s like you as glue on a horse.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It really depends on how far the relationship is. Platonic or romantic. At first he’s really intense and loud. But once you two settle into each other, he’s very gentle honestly. He’s the ‘softer twin’ after all. Still, he can be intense, but his emotions are soft. He’s very honest with how he feels, and if he’s uncomfortable it’s super easy to read on his face and body language. He’s just a very open book when it comes to emotions. Expected to have brutal hugs, and to be tossed like a rag doll though. He’s still got those jock arms, and hard muscles from working at WWW.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Obsessed with hugs. He would rest his head on yours, as you both are in class. He will hug you as a form of greeting. There have been times he’s hugged as a first impression. Confused the old farts when doing business deals, that’s for sure. He loves them so damn much. He loves to hug and be hugged. He’s not a teddy bear for nothing. Hug and hug and more hugs. He loves them, and will find an excuse to give them if he can. It’s even rubbed off on people he knows, and now they aren’t to shy in physical affection because of it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s a very lovey dovey guy in general, so the first time he says it it’ll not really sound like the L-word. Just the playful little kinds. Like ‘I love your dumb ass-‘ types. He’s just as opposite of toxic masculinity as it gets. So when he finally does say the L word, it’s hard to tell if it’s playful or not. He’s just very emotional like that. Even after the war, and the trauma of it all. His emotional strength is to be admired, really.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Like I said. Fred is the more stern while George is more soft of the two. So his reaction to jealously is more in the terms of anxiety, and sadness. He would get stressed, and worried. Wondering if he’s good enough, if he’s even wasting your time with him.

After the war though? Uh….He might get a little aggressive. Not at you, but whoever it is he feels is threatening his relationship. It’s hard, when you lose your twin. So he gets overly protective and territorial. Afraid he will lose more people. Before the war he’s scared, after the war he’s terrified.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Cheeks and noses. He loves cute little affection like that. To pepper your face in kisses, and nuzzle his nose with yours. He wants to kiss your face until you giggle. He loves kisses like that in return.

After the war, he loves being kissed on his scar. Fleur would do that with Bill. Kiss his scars, and show him that he is still handsome. That his scars are just as pretty as him. It’s soothing to him. That he isn’t seen as gross or disgusting for his facial features. So, give him plenty of kisses on his missing ear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

The BEST! Not only because he’s an older sibling, but because he runs a joke shop. He knows what kids like. He and Fred also would comfort kids during Umbridges time. So if a kid is experiencing trauma, he’s quick to hold them and let them know they have a safe adult to confide in. He’s the man that ends up being a person kids run to when they are running away from home, more often than he wants to admit. It’s not going to be long before he’s a foster parent, that’s for sure. He might have, even. Given a lot of orphans were made from the war…..

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a morning bird. He will be awake early, and working on coffee and breakfast. Enjoying his cup of overly sweet Joe, and a sunrise. Even in school, he was always the first one up. He loves the calm of it. There’s something so nice about the stillness of a morning, and being able to mold it to be whatever you want it to be. Breakfast he already made, and he has a list of things he has planned for the morning. Already showered, and dressed. A total morning bird.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Fred is the night owl, not George. Especially since he would be busy with work. And it’s worse when Fred had died. Wanting to work as long as he could, to not face the loneliness of being without him. Even with a partner, it hurts. Closing shop alone. There will be times he worked himself to pure exhaustion, and passes out. Just so he didn’t have to close up shop alone. It’s not healthy, but neither is a magical twin being alive without his other half. It’s a cycle. You’ll help him break it eventually. So many nights are often times you stealing him out of his blacked out state in the shop.

Before the war, though, it was certainly much better. He would come home, tired, but contented. Have those aches and pains of a hard days work. Happily help make dinner, tell you about his day, and have a nice cuddle session together. So you two can have some together time, and be at peace. The war sure likes to take peace away from people.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Before the war, he’s very open about himself. You won’t get his darkest secrets, like how he feels like people like Fred more than him, on the first encounter. But he has a good judge of character, so you’ll learn that sooner than later.

After the war……Oh boy. He’s learned to be very good at hiding what he is actually feeling. It’s going to take ages for you to break through his laughing mask. He’s just scared of losing someone close to him again. It hurts. He’s scared. You’ll have to really dig, but the dig is worth it. Because when he finally opens up, it’s a water fall. A much needed waterfall, that patches holes. Paves way to healing. It’s worth the dig.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends on the person, actually. If you are like a little kid, his patience is endless. If you are an adult? It’s shorter, but he’s able to keep himself pretty calm. It’s a Gordon Ramsey thing. Kids don’t know better, adults do. Also, ya know, he’s beaten up Draco more than once.

The same still apply’s after the war. Shorter for adults, endless for kids. Though, he’s more quicker to violence after the war. Because those same adults are now making comments about Fred, his appearance, and things that you just don’t say to someone with PTSD man. Come on.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You would think he was a stalker, with how much he knows. In reality, the twins are charismatic for a reason. They read the room, and pick up small details. That’s how they seem so charming. They know what to say to meet the vibe. So, he’s just good at picking up little things. He loves knowing what makes his friends, and partners, happy. Also, he’s a prankster. He NEEDS to know these tiny details. Makes giving you surprises the more fun. You made one comment about how pretty green is? Now you suddenly have a green sweater for Christmas because he told Molly you like green. You will not escape his love.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

If this is a case that you joined them in the Umbridge escape, that obviously. If not? It’s extremely domestic. It’s a case where you two fell asleep together. Having spent the night in a hidden little spot in the castle, having been working on plans for inventions and pranks. Just the two of you cuddled, and surrounded with exciting things. Fred and Angelina in a similar fashion. Almost a mirror of you and him. Just one big cuddle pile, with the most important people of his life. You, his twin, and their childhood friend. It was so perfect, he was able to forget the worries of Umbridge and the war. It was heaven, for just a moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

It gets worse after the war, but over all he’s always been support protective. If anything, you getting caught in the Pink Toad’s crossfire is what caused him and Fred to break out of school. If it wasn’t for the fact she had so much power, it would be safe to assume he would have caused more violence than what was already done. He isn’t afraid to get blood on his hands. Many wizards aren’t, as that is the society. Wizards are a very violent society after all. You say the word, and the person that has been bothering you either gets pranked into a heart attack….or worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s his favorite pass time, really. He loves planning. There is so much excitement in it. Also doing small things is just natural for him. To kiss your head, before leaving to work. To remember your favorite flavor of candy, and give you said flavor from the left overs from candy he got in Hogsmeade. He loves doing stuff like that, and it gets worse after WWW. He’s able to pamper you in ways no one could imagine. It’s not a surprise that some of the products are a reaction to gifts and plans he made for you. So many dates, so many fun things. Every moment is special. From the wildest of Quidditch matches, to domestic picnics at Fred’s grave.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I wouldn’t say having PTSD is an ugly habit, but that is something that will need to be dealt with and handled. It’s hard, but hopefully you were very aware of that when dating him. Suppose more so what actual bad habits he has is saying we/us well after Fred’s death. As if you’ll ever correct him. A more proper bad habit is he has a hard time cleaning, and remembering to eat. Ya know, typical ADHD habits. Suppose remembering self care is a bad habit. Even before the war. He is just a giver. It’s hard to treat yourself, so it leads to some issues. Like dietary issues, his hair getting messy. A really really bad habit he has is always focusing on making others happy, and forgetting himself. Everyone deserves happiness, not him. It’s a trauma that was developed by his life. So it’s hard for him to take a minute to allow himself joy. Lots of bottled up emotions, despite being so open. Complexity of human nature.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He didn’t really start a worry, until after the war. Now that he was sporting a missing ear, multiple scars, and just a mess of trauma. He went as far as to grow out his hair to try and hide the scars. It’s hard, because since the wound is a magical scar it caused his hair to be unable to grow on that spot. So his hair style had to be very long, which just brought more notice to his scar. It’s often made him cry. Kids asking about it don’t bother him too much, but adults just don’t know when to shut up. He’s cried so many times from it. How he is no longer identical to Fred. That he can’t even see his own brother in his reflection anymore. Many a mirror has been broken, to say the least…..

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before the war, he would have a better chance of moving on and living life as normal. After? Oh after it’s scary. It’s very scary. He’s lost Fred, don’t make him keep losing people. It’s going to be a very dark day for WWW if he ever lost you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Just one?! Oh come on. Ok ok hm. Hehe get angsted. He started to wear purple far more often when Fred died, so in a way Fred is still involved and part of life. Because Fred’s favorite color is purple, while George’s favorite color is orange. Hence their purple and orange color schemes. Green was their mutual shared color they liked. So purple indirectly because almost more loved than orange, because purple reminded him of Fred. So by proxy grape, and such, was a thing that has often comforted him in hard times. If he’s drinking or eating grape flavored things, it’s a sign that he’s sad and needs support. So, in his own little way, Fred is. By giving him comfort in a flavor and color.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

You don’t like kids? He doesn’t like you. You don’t want kids when older? Get out of his face. This doesn’t mean if you are unable to have kids. This means if you aren’t willing to adopt or foster even. If you won’t even accept fostering then you aren’t dating him. Kids are his life. Also, duh, if you can’t take a joke or enjoy a good prank. If you basically don’t have the headspace to be a playful parent, you aren’t even getting the time of day from him. Don’t get him started on the weirdos that make if their whole personality that they don’t have kids. Red flag for him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Before the war, he was a heavy ass sleeper. He would have you tangled in his limbs, as he snores into your hair. He’s knocked out, and you are now trapped with his ginger covered furnace he calls a body. Sure makes winters snuggly. He can sleep through a damn construction sight, while being on a jack hammer. Those twins love loud noises. They don’t get scared by them easily.

After the war is another story. He can’t sleep on his left side, because that makes him go fully deaf after all. He also can’t have the room quiet. The quite scares him. So there will be some kind of background noise. Such as the window open, to have the busy streets of London/Diagon alley to make some sound. Or a record player. He’s also more sensitive to waking up, and has night terrors. He gets scared easily in his sleep. It’s also harder to sleep, if you aren’t there with him. He just hates being alone. He always has Fred, and they had that magical bond. So that even if they were miles apart, they could still feel each other. He doesn’t have that anymore. Isolation is horrific for him. Hence why Bill moved back to working in Gringotts, and into the flats attached to WWW. So he didn’t have to face that fear. Fleur’s thoughts on it? She’s out right slept in the same room as George, one his worse nights, because a Veela knows what it’s like to have magic that isn’t the same as your typical wizard. She knows, and does what she can to help. A true Weasley.

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