#he was the last potter left who could grant him his absolution

[padfootastic]

so i was rereading my stuff (as i often do lol) and came across one of my absolute favourite things i’ve ever written.

“it is my life’s biggest regret that it was my actions and my mistake that led to james’ death, to both their deaths. they were…the last people on earth who should’ve died so young. james and lily had so much life in them, so much left to give. and i will never forgive myself for the part i played in ending that light. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness but i’m so sorry, baby.”

and despite sirius’ attempts to stem the tears, they spilled over anyway, and gosh, it ached to see this strong, proud man break down in front of him like this. harry didn’t think sirius deserved to feel this way, but he also knew a thing or two about (irrational) guilt and he knew it was an insidious, poisonous thing that crawled up your body, slowly killing you from the inside out. sirius had been carrying this inside him for a decade and a half, and he was only now letting himself feel the grief and the guilt and the loss, letting himself mourn properly. (and wasn't harry humbled at the thought that sirius considered him trustworthy enough to break down in his arms? it was frightening, the knowledge that he quite literally held his godfathers heart in his hands right now, because who was he kidding, he was the last potter left now who could grant him his absolution)

[sapphicwhxre]

behind closed doors

♡ pairing: harry potter x reader x ginny weasley

♡ summary: ginny wants to add a third person to her sex life with harry and you make them both glad he said yes.

♡ requested: yes | no

♡ warnings: oh my god it's FILTH ─ swearing, threesome smut, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, fingering, vaginal sex, praise/possession kink, scissoring, overstimulation, nipple play/praise, cum slut stuff but i got no clue what to tag that as. also i didn’t proofread or edit because if i reread any of this shit i know it won’t get posted LMAO

it was funny, really.

everyone thought the chosen one was this awkward, inexperienced git when it came to sex. and they all thought the youngest and only girl of the weasleys must be this pure little princess. but, they were oh so wrong and you knew that first hand.

you knew because harry was almost at his breaking point. he didn’t think there was anything as precious or plain sexy as ginevra weasley but merlin, did she have some odd kinks. he’d do them all for her, even enjoyed some of them. but this one had harry redder than dragon breath.

“ginny, i don’t want another guy with his hands on you when we’re being intimate!”

finally snapping, harry was flushed and frustrated. it was the second time ginny had brought up the possibility of bringing another person into their bedroom and harry did not see the appeal. the weasley girl perked an eyebrow, however, and laughed.

“who said anything about a guy, dear?” ginny toyed with a charm on the bracelet you’d given her and shook her head. “you know my friend, y/n, don’t you?”

the boy’s eyes widened behind his glasses and his mouth went a bit dry. “yes,” was all he managed, trying to remember what house you were even in. what he did remember was that you were quite the sight to look at.

ginny grabbed harry's hand, “we had a bit of a thing before you and i. she’s a fun person, she’d do it without any strings attached.”

how had harry had no idea that his girlfriend had been sleeping with y/n? and why did the idea of letting her into the equation arouse him so much? although surprised that ginny felt absolutely no jealousy or even batted an eye at the situation, he found himself grinning when ginny did at his sudden nod.

this was how you’d ended up with harry potter’s cock buried in your pussy while your face was in ginny’s. and right now, it wasn’t very funny at all. what it was fell under the category of fucking like heaven.

“oh, good girl, just like that, y/n!”

ginny moaned with her head thrown back. her eyes were rolling back into her head with every moan she heard from her boyfriend paired with the warm vibrations of yours meeting her pussy. “look so pretty, taking harry’s cock for us,” you responded to her dirty praise by a finger into her dripping cunt, your tongue still assaulting her folds and your ass in the air. she moaned even louder and barely made eye contact with harry, who was still thrusting into your clenching walls. “so good, y/n... blimey, gin, she’s so tight,”

“and ours,” the panting girl added, her hands now gripping your hair messily. “our pretty little slut, in’t that right, harry?” he agreed with a rather distracted grunt but ginny was too occupied to respond, screaming as you put your fingers as deep into her as you could, curling and pumping while your tongue kept adoring her clit. “oh, y/n, y/n, y/n,” it was impossible at this point to tell whose moans were whose and who was saying your name louder, but either way it was addicting.

“f-fuck!” you babbled incoherently, harry and ginny's names both getting lost on the way out of your mouth. harry burst into you with a final, shallow thrust, moaning like a porn star. your orgasm clenched your stomach and your walls tightened around harry’s dick while you came, the white liquid seeping out into ginny’s view. your breathy moan was hot on ginny’s throbbing pink pussy and the sight made her want to come, hard. you took your fingers away and instantly replaced them with your tongue. gripping her thighs tightly, you let all of her sweet cum enter your mouth and drip down your chin eagerly.

“oh, that’s a good girl,” ginny was breathing fast and giving both of you a toothy grin ─ one which you and harry returned. “how hot does she look, harry?”

“so hot,” harry gasped, forehead sweaty and cheeks flushed red. “so hot covered in our cum, she knows that, doesn’t she?”

nodding and flustered, you tried to gather yourself after being fucked and fucking ginny at the same time but you were flipped onto your back. a loud yelp caught both ginny and harry and they both wore different smirks on their face. harry's said he was nothing short of loving the experience and ginny was thinking of ways to make it better for the former... and herself.

“open,” she commanded, biting her bottom lip with the cockiest look on her face. without any hesitation, you spread your legs as wide as you could to let ginny do whatever she wanted with you. “good little girl, you’ll be rewarded,” she hummed and you were desperate to be touched again. “but first ‘m gonna let harry have a bit more fun, show him just how good you are with that pretty mouth.”

the messy haired boy was already pumping up and down his shaft, tip as pink as his cheeks. “open?” harry’s request was softer but in some way, just as sexy as ginny’s. you parted your lips just enough to take his tip between them and sucked softly, eyes intent on harry while you did so. his were already scrunched in need and you made your way down, cum covered lips and saliva wetting his dick for you to suck him better. with hollowed cheeks, you bobbed up and down on his length, feeling more and more satisfied with his bucks hitting your throat. even gagging on his cock and nose hitting right above where he was slapping against his own skin, you moaned and sucked until ginny spit on your cunt.

“oh,” you let out muffled on harry. no longer watching you two, ginny was lowering her own pussy onto yours and the heat of both your aroused cunts felt heavenly. you whimpered with your lips around harry, tears streaming down your face, hoping to be touched by ginny. your wish was granted as you moaned muffled again and she sank onto you, using your thigh to ride your pussy. clits rubbing against one another with deliciously rough friction, cock all the way into your mouth, you saw stars. it didn’t even matter whose cum was dripping down your leg when the pleasure you felt was so mindblowing and harry was spilling his seed down your throat. “good little cum slut,” ginny rubbed your clit harshly.

“ginny, this is so good,” you groaned, on the verge of a sob, “but ‘m too sensitive, just let me please you guys,”

as if you’d told a funny joke, she laughed and turned to harry. “your turn baby, i want that pretty, pretty mouth back between my legs now that she’s all swollen and sexy,”

“poor thing,” harry chuckled at your scream when he attached his mouth to your soaked and abused pussy. his hands yanked you by the ass and he ate you out like you were a fucking pumpkin pasty. ginny lowered to sit this time on your mouth, facing harry’s buried head. whimpering almost pitifully, though extremely sexy to the couple you were pleasing, your tongue took messy movements to ginny’s pussy.

she was so wet that it didn't matter how out of it the sensations had you, your open mouth on her core was enough to have ginny spitting moan after moan. “cum now, y/n, i know you’ve got another one left in you,” harry cooed. you couldn’t even object with your mouth so preoccupied and all coherent thoughts being smashed by harry’s tongue fucking your hole. “that's it,” his teeth grazed you while you came and your sob on ginny’s pussy sent her to the very edge of her orgasm.

right then and there, she could have orgasmed all over your flushed face but she held on and took her pale fingers to your breasts. “i think she’s got one more in her harry, fuck her one more time,” she purred, hips bucking on your lips. the strangled moan you exhaled made harry beam while he prepared to enter you again. “you love it, don't you?” your mouth tasting between ginny’s slick folds wouldn’t let you scream his name, but you desperately wanted to when harry pushed all of his inches into you. “being just a pretty cum slut?”

in only a minute, ginny’s release washed over your face and flooded your senses. all you tasted was the last ginny had before she collpased beside you, panting heavily. she watched as harry kept fucking you like you were theirs. “pretty tits bouncing, shame we didn't give ‘em too much attention,” she chirped. your teary eyes widened, you weren’t sure if you could take ginny touching your breasts on top of harry pounding into you. but you desperately wanted to.

it must have showed in your eyes, or admittedly, in ginny’s desire because she wrapped her lips around one of your nipples and pinched the other one before switching to soft flicking. “so tasty,” she alternated, praising both your tits with her skilled fingers and warm mouth. about to coax you into your orgasm, you finished loudly and harry let himself release the second that you did. pulling out, he found his way next to ginny and wrapped his hands around her waist while she focused on your tits, tired yet euphoric. “aren’t they perfect?” ginny hummed contently and released them, and harry stroked your hair and ginny's.

“y’know, perfect’s just one word i’d use for this.”

the lovely filth of having the wild versions of harry potter and ginny weasley all to yourself were some of your best nights, you often thought. though you supposed deep down that they were the ones who had you to themselves, you didn’t care. what mattered much more was that you ─ and certainly ginny and harry ─ were quite glad that you were their good, little slut.

─────♡

[the-iceni-bitch]

Puppy Love

Pairing: Jake Jensen/Fem-Reader

Words: 4684

Summary: You and Jake Jensen work together for the first time on a recon mission. You’re the consummate professional, while Jake is basically a man-child with a heart of gold. Will he be able to soften your cold demeanor?

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, SMUT, 18+

A/N: I ended up be a little later than I had planned with this one as I wanted to do some edits since the first draft didn’t seem quite right to me, but here it is, for day 5 of my birthday week. I actually watched “The Losers” for the first time today and I would highly recommend it. It’s a bit on the cheesy side but Jake Jensen really makes it worth it. I’m going to tag @stargazingfangirl18​ and @starlightcrystalline​, as I know they’re fans of Jake’s. Please enjoy!

“What’s he look like again?”

“Golden retriever in human form, blond buzz, goatee, Harry Potter glasses.” Aisha instructed you over your phone. “Probably stuffing his face at the buffet. He’ll have a comm for you. Thanks for stepping in for me at the last minute.”

“Well, you didn’t give me that much of a choice.” You said, no real malice behind it. You did owe her after all. “Found him. Talk to you in a sec.”

She had been right, you found your contact at the buffet, balancing two plates on one forearm and loading them with an obscene amount of h’ors douvres. He didn’t notice you walking up behind him, he was so engrossed in the spread.

“Jensen?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin, just barely avoiding spilling foie gras on his tux.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath as he set the plates down on a table and turned back to you. “Y/N? Hi! Call me Jake!” He wiped his hands on his pants leg before offering you one to shake in greeting.

You cocked one eyebrow at him as he gave you a slightly crooked grin and took his hand. “Right, you have a comm for me?”

“Crap, yes, here you go.” He handed the small earpiece and gave you a good look, eyes scanning up and down your body. You were wearing a long sleeve green satin gown. The bodice hugged you tightly down to your hips before flaring into a skirt that had a slit running all the way up your leg. The gown didn’t have a back, showing off the lean muscles moving beneath your skin.

Jensen cleared his throat and took what you thought was supposed to be a nonchalant pose; leaning back on one foot with his arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted in an expression you couldn’t identify. “So,” he said in an artificially deep voice. “Where, uh, where are you from?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the question as you inserted the comm link into your ear. “Comm test, can you read me, Aisha?”

“I read you, I see you found Jensen.”

“Yeah, where are we heading?”

“Right down to business, I can respect that.” Jensen said, nodding his head as he shuffled his feet and crossed and uncrossed his arms repeatedly, trying to give off an air of confidence and failing miserably.

“There’s a hallway to your left that should lead to the north wing of the property where the entrance to the server room is. Security is pretty lax right now but they’re definitely still there so make sure you don’t look suspicious.”

“Got it.” You turned back to Jensen and put one arm through his, giving him a radiant smile as the two of you started to head down the hall.

“Hahaha, what’s happening?” Jensen laughed nervously at your sudden and extreme change in demeanor.

“Relax, Jensen. We’re just taking a stroll to look at the artwork. Nothing that should concern anyone.”

“Oh, ok. Are you acting right now? You’re really good at it.”

Your smile started to strain. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be a professional? “That’s part of the job.” You grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters before you headed down the hallway. You nodded to Jensen to grab one as well, hoping that if he started drinking, he might stop talking.

You were wrong.

“I always feel so awkward when I have to act on a job, you know? Like, what’s my character’s story? His motivations?” He took a sip of champagne. “Mm, this is good.”

You chugged your glass in one gulp. Maybe if you got a buzz going, the constant chatter wouldn’t bother you as much.

“Wow. That was impressive.”

“Jensen, Y/N is too much of a pro to say so, but you need to shut the fuck up.” Aisha said through your comms, exasperated. You heard laughing from the rest of the team in the background and gave a small smirk.

“Right, sorry. I babble when I’m nervous.” He said, taking another sip of champagne.

You were getting close to the server room now and saw a security guard walking towards you. You pulled Jensen off to the side and stared at a beautiful replica of John William Waterhouse’s ‘The Soul of the Rose’.

“Tell me about this one, sweetie.” You said, your voice sickeningly sweet as you giggled breathlessly and looked at Jensen coquettishly, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Uhh, this is a painting of… a woman, um, smelling a rose. From…. Sometime in the past?” He said, painfully.

Fortunately, the guard didn’t stop to analyze the absolute stupidity that was coming out of this man’s mouth. He continued past the two of you and you started to head back towards your destination.

“Fascinating analysis, Jensen.” You said dryly.

“Listen, I can’t ad lib. I need time to prepare my lines.”

“How have you survived in this… fuck.” You drew him back sharply before he had a chance to round the corner. There were two guards posted at the door to the server room. “Aisha, we’ve got two bogies right where we need to be. Is there any other way in?”

“Shit, no. Vents are welded shut and the roof is crawling with security, so the sky light isn’t an option.”

You chewed your lips as you weighed the several different scenarios. “Is there a closet or other sort of storage nearby?”

“Yeah, there’s a janitor’s closet right across the hall.”

“Great.” Not trusting your partner to act the part believably, you figured startling him would get him into a convincing state.

You grabbed his ears and pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. He gave a small yelp into your mouth as you pulled him backwards with you, into the view of the two waiting guards. You separated from him and he gave you a goofy grin trying to kiss you again as you turned away from him, pulling him by his wrist and giggling.

You staggered drunkenly towards the two guards and gave them a sloppy grin. “’Scuse me.“ You slurred at them. Jensen collided into your back clumsily, panting breathlessly. “We’re looking for the bathroom.”

“You need to move out of this area.” One of the guards scowled at you, his hand moving to the gun holstered on his hip.

“How… dare you?” You whined, stepping forward and poking him in the chest. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? Do you know who my daddy is?”

The guard looked past you at Jensen. “Sir, you need to take her out of here.”

“Don’t you talk over me!” You dug your hand in your purse. “I’m calling daddy right now, you are going to be so fired.”

He rolled his eyes and moved to grab your arm when you pulled the syringe out of your purse and plunged it into his neck. He let out a hiss and slumped against the wall. You pulled his gun out of the holster and whipped the other guard across the face with it before he had a chance to reach for his radio.

“Wait, was that not a real kiss?” Jensen asked with a confused look on his face. He stared at the two guards lying on the floor, his brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened.

“Oh my god, Jensen, get your head in the game.” Aisha scolded through the comms.

“Help me get them into the closet.” You hissed at him after you managed to gag and hogtie both of them.

“Right.” You shoved the guards into the tiny storage area and forced the door closed. Jensen moved to the key pad and connected it to his phone, a look of concentration coming over his face as he got to work.

You rolled your neck loosely as you waited and in less than a minute he made a small triumphant noise.

“Jensen comes in in the clutch and the crowd goes wild!” He made a noise like cheers in a stadium and put his hand up to give you a high five.

You opened the door to the server room and headed in, leaving him hanging. You heard him slap his own hand before he followed you. “So serious.” You heard him whisper over the comms. “ ‘Good job Jensen. And by the way that kiss was amazing, let’s do it again.’ “

“We can hear you, idiot.” Aisha said in your ears, her tone dripping with annoyance.

“Oops.”

“Where’s the server we want?” You asked him over your shoulder.

“This way.” He led you down an aisle to your right before arriving at the server you needed, pulling a small tablet out of his tux jacket and connecting it. “This should just take a few minutes.”

“Great.”

“So, um, how do you know Aisha?” he said, trying to fill the silence.

“High school.” You said flatly.

“Oh, really? That long?”

“No.”

“Of course not. She mentioned something about Finland?”

“Yep.”

“So, snowy there, huh?”

“Sure is.”

“Oook.” He felt horribly awkward. He knew he had no game, but dealing with women like you and Aisha really cemented that. He turned his concentration back to the algorithm that was running and started singing Bon Jovi to himself.

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe Aisha worked with this man-child. He must be a genius with computers for her to put up with this bullshit. Granted, he filled out that tux real nice; his broad shoulders stretching the back of the jacket in a titillating way before his torso narrowed in an almost perfect V to his hips. The jacket covered it some, but you could tell he had a nice ass under the slacks as well. Maybe she kept him around for the eye candy.

“Wanted, wantehehed, dead or alive! And done!” He finished up, disconnecting from the server and turning to give you another goofy grin.

You smirked at him and started to head back out of the room.

“Was that an almost smile, Y/N?” he said teasingly behind you. “Are you warming up to me?”

“Please stop talking,” You told him half-heartedly, too mentally exhausted to really scold him.

You turned the corner and ran into three armed guards. You all stared at each other for a second before they drew their guns and brought them up to fire.

You shoved Jensen behind the servers and dove after him as bullets started ricocheting everywhere.

“We’re blown, Aisha! We need an exit.”

“Shit, hold them down while I work something out.”

“Got it. You armed, Jensen?” You looked at him as you slipped out of your heels.

“Fuck, no. I was worried a gun would ruin the lines of my tux.”

“That is so fucking stupid.” You hissed. Of course, you hadn’t brought a gun either, but that was because you knew the venue’s security measures would have gone into hyper drive if you had gotten caught with one. You shoved your shoes into Jensen’s arm along with your purse as you pulled out a ceramic blade from under your skirt.

“Where were you keeping that?” Jensen asked you, eyes bulging as he tried to imagine where you could have been storing the giant knife in your skintight dress.

You gave him a grunt as you edged your way between the servers slowly, moving closer to the gunman as they shuffled forward, continuing to fire at the two of you.

You reached the server next to the nearest gunman and shot your arm out to knock the gun out of his hand. You brought a knee up into his diaphragm and plunged your knife in between his shoulders and then his neck, slipping back between the servers as he dropped to the floor.

The other two guards seemed to remember suddenly that they were in a room full of delicate computer equipment and they stowed their weapons, dropping into fight ready stances as they tried to determine where you were.

You shot out like a whip, punching the first guard in the gut then the throat and grabbing him around the waist to tackle him. You used the momentum to carry you forward and delivered a scorpion kick to the other man’s face, making him stagger back into the servers, clutching his nose. The first man wasn’t going down, so you released him and sprung off one leg to push off a server wall and whip the opposite foot around to drive into his face hard, sending him sprawling as you landed on one knee beside him, plunging your knife into his chest.

“Jesus, Jensen what’s happening?” Aisha yelled over the comms.

“Uhh, Y/N is kicking some serious ass.” Jake watched you stand up slowly from the second body, spinning your knife through your fingers as you turned to face your final opponent.

“Well both of you need to get to the skylight ASAP for extraction, Pooch’ll be there with a chopper in exactly one minute.”

“Got it. You get that, Y/N?”

“Yeah, just a second.” You jumped up to grab one of the pipes running along the ceiling and wrapped your thighs around the guard’s neck, squeezing him hard enough to cut off blood and oxygen to his brain. You didn’t notice him draw a knife of his own from a sheath at his thigh.

Jake hissed when he saw and grabbed the gun the first guard had dropped, shooting your opponent three times in his chest before he had a chance to slash across your femoral artery. You landed on your feet as he dropped between your legs.

“Nice shot.” You told Jake, giving him an approving nod as the two of you started to jog to the extraction point.

“Aww, shucks.” Jake groaned internally at that, not wanting to think about how stupid he sounded.

“We’re here.” You told Aisha over the comm.  “How exactly is Pooch getting us out of here? There’s no room on the roof for a chopper.”

“He’s going to drop you a line.”

“Great.” The skylight was purely for show, there was no way to open it. You pushed Jake back and took the gun from him when you heard chopper blades, and shot the glass out of the window.

A rope dropped through the opening immediately and Jake wrapped his right leg and arm through it before holding you to him with his left arm.

“Hi.” He said sheepishly as he looked at you. “Wait, weren’t there guards on the roof?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer as the two of you were lifted into the air as the chopper took off. You heard gunfire and saw muzzle flashes before you were exposed to the open air.

A bullet ripped through the air less than 6 inches from your face and Jake swore. “Don’t drop me.” You told him as you started firing at the guards on the roof, making sure to pick your shots carefully so you didn’t waste any bullets.

Once you were safely out of gun range, someone in the chopper started pulling the two of you up. Jake gave a melodramatic sigh once the two of you were safely inside, laying back against the floor, still holding you to him, before he let out a whoop and sat up quickly, releasing you. He watched you with one of those ridiculous grins on his face as you settled yourself into one of the seats.

“That was exciting!” He said giddily. “Cougar, you should have seen it. Y/N took out three guys with guns with just a knife and, like, her legs.”

You couldn’t help it, that damn smile of his was too infectious. Your lips curled up slightly as he narrated the fight to a disinterested Cougar, leaning you head back against the chopper. The idiot had grown on you.

“And, hoo, when you kicked that one guy in the face, while you were tackling the other guy. Man, that was fucking ace!” He finished up his narration as you landed back at the warehouse.

Clay and Aisha greeted you when you landed. Aisha let out a deep breath once she saw to two of you step out of the chopper, tension leaving her body.

“You two get it done?” Clay asked.

“We sure did, boss! Backdoor is open for us anytime!” Jake said excitedly.

“Perfect, let’s all get some drinks.”

“Glad you’re ok, Y/N.” Aisha said, handing you a shot of tequila when you arrived at the basic bar set up.

“Well, we’re officially even now.” You told her around a grin before tossing back your shot and pouring another.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for any more favors.” She said through a smile of her own.

“Aw, c’mon, Aisha. The two of us make a pretty killer team! I think she should maybe join our little loser club!” Jensen draped an arm around your shoulder. He had undone his bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing a light dusting of dark hair at the top of his chest. He looked down at you and gave you a grin and a wink.

Well, fuck.

You slammed your second shot back, nodded to Aisha, and pulled Jake by his wrist to follow you to one of the side rooms of the warehouse as he gave you a look of confusion.

“Have fun, you two. Don’t break him, Y/N!” You heard Aisha call behind you.

“Um, what are we doing?” Jake asked as you pulled the door to one of the storage rooms closed behind you.

“Stop talking, before I change my mind.” You told him, placing a finger over his lips as you slid his tux jacket off his shoulders.

You stepped into him, your body pressing him into the door as you brought his face to yours for a kiss before he could start babbling again. You teased at his lips with your teeth before running your tongue around the cushion of his bottom lip and he opened himself to you, groaning into your mouth. He kneaded his hands into your hips, pulling you against him close. You felt him starting to harden through his pants and gave him a sigh before you started moving your mouth down his jaw to his neck as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Shit.” He murmured as you lightly sucked against his pulse point, drawing a soft bruise against his skin as your hands finished their work on his buttons and he shrugged his shirt off. You stepped back to let him remove his undershirt too and gave a moan when his torso was fully exposed, running your fingers over his abs lightly before pressing your palms against the plain of his chest.

“Mmm, who knew you were packing all this under here sweetie.” You murmured before moving your mouth back to his neck before you started slowly traveling south.

“Um, Y/N? Is this just like, a post-mission type thing? Or what?” His voice cracked when your tongue ran over his nipple as you tweaked the other. You kept moving down his abs until you reached the top of his pants and started to undo his belt, kneeling in front of him. “Not that there’s any pressure, or anything, just curio-- mmph.”

You had slipped your panties off as he chattered away and shoved them in his mouth before you went back to undoing his fly.

“Seriously, Jake, you need to shut the fuck up.” You pulled his zipper down finally, and drew his pants and boxers down his legs so they pooled around his ankles.

You gave yourself a little hum as you examined his cock. His swollen head was already leaking pre-cum before you had even touched him. You spat in your hand before wrapping it around his impressive length, giving him a few pumps as you lapped soft kitten licks over his slit. He gave a groan from deep in his chest and leaned his head back against the door, thumping his fist against it at his side.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth and hummed around it, causing him to twitch before you moved him further in and slowly back out, repeating the process to take him a little further into your mouth with each bob of your head.

Jake was using all his concentration to keep from coming 30 seconds into a blowjob like a chump. The tangy taste of your arousal was on his tongue as he bit down on your panties, which wasn’t helping. When you started breathing through your nose and relaxed your throat to swallow around him though, he was lost.

He let out a muffled groan and pressed a hand to the back of your head when he bucked his hips and shot his release down your throat.

You let his softening dick slide out of your mouth as you wiped a small amount of drool from around your mouth with your fingertips. You drew yourself up to your feet and plucked your now saliva soaked panties from his mouth before pulling him in for another kiss.

“Was that good for you, honey?” You asked, giving him a wicked smile as he rested his forehead against yours, panting as he came down from his orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah, that was good.” He said, kissing you again as his big hands pressed into the small of your back before moving their way up to your shoulders.

He slid the shoulders of your gown down your arms slowly and then down your hips once your arms were free. You stepped out of it as it pooled on the ground and he turned you suddenly until he had you pinned against the wall.

Jake took a step back and drank you in. He ran his hand over your hips and up your abdomen until he was cupping your breasts, gently running his thumbs over your nipples until they were raised to sensitive peaks.

“Mmhm, pretty girl.” He murmured as he palmed your breasts, making you gasp. “I’m gonna make you feel good too, baby.”

He removed his glasses and set them on the table behind him before stepping into you and curling his thick fingers over your mound. You bit your lip and moaned as he teased his way between your soft folds, brushing his fingers through the arousal at your entrance as he sank to his knees.

He pushed your lips apart gently, then dragged his tongue over your slit heavily, causing your knees to buckle when he found your clit. He moved one of your legs over his shoulder to keep you from falling as he started licking small circles over the tiny bud.

He shook his head from side to side to press himself deeper into you before sucking gently, making you cry out. His tongue entered your canal and he started to alternate between fucking you with it, and sucking on your clit.

You felt your core tightening as your orgasm built and you ground yourself into Jake’s face, begging him for more. He wrapped his lips around you tightly and sucked hard, and you felt the coil in your belly snap as you screamed his name and your release gushed all over his mouth and chin. You kept grinding against him as you came down and once you had finally finished, he gave you a wicked grin from between your legs before rising back up to kiss you.

You felt your desire stirring again already when you tasted yourself on his tongue and you let out a heavy sigh. He pressed himself into your front and lifted you until you could wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed his face into the hollow of your throat and softly nipped at the skin there. You gave a soft whine and gripped the back of his neck.

“You good with me fucking you against the wall, sweetheart?” He asked against your neck.

“Oh, fuck, yes.” You said breathlessly as he continued nuzzling you softly.

He kept you propped against the wall as he moved a hand between the two of you to line up at your entrance. You felt his tip brush against your folds and let out a sigh, trying to grind yourself into him.

He pulled his head up and gave you one of those grins before lowering you slowly onto his length. You moaned as you stretched over him until he was fully seated in you.

Jake gave a grunt and braced one hand against the wall before he started moving his hips, fucking his cock up into you roughly. His breath was hot against your neck as he panted in time with his thrusts, making you whimper softly in his ear.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so tight. This pussy feels so good.”

He started to pick up the pace then. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back with a low moan, loving the full feeling he was giving you in this position. Jake lifted his head to look at you and watch as you took his cock, your tits bouncing each time he drove up into you. He bent his face down to nuzzle against them and you gasped as he drew his tongue over your nipple.

His cock was hitting your sweet spot each time and the position you were in had him rubbing right against your clit. You could feel yourself building towards an orgasm fast and dug your nails into the muscles of his back.

He felt you starting to flutter and clench around him and picked up the pace, adjusting the hand he had holding you up so your hips tilted just a bit and that small change sent you over the edge.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it!” You cried as every muscle in your body tightened and vibrated while your pleasure released violently. Jake kept his relentless pace up as you rode it out and you sagged against him when you came down.

You felt his hips start to stutter and then his dick was twitching inside of you, his cum filling you up until it was leaking out around his cock.

“Fuck, sorry.” He murmured against your hair as he held you to him. “I meant to pull out.”

You lifted his head up and slowly unwrapped yourself from him, placing your feet on the floor gently and almost collapsing on your shaky legs.

“That’s ok baby.” You said, giving him a reassuring pat on the cheek. You gave him a hungry kiss, painting the inside of his mouth with your tongue before whispering in his ear, “I love feeling your cum leaking out of my cunt.”

He gave a laugh that was on the hysterical side as you started to slip your gown back on. He was sliding into his pants when you turned back to him, and he gave you a sheepish grin. He found your panties as he was drawing his shirt off the ground and tried to hand them to you.

“Oh, sweetie, you keep those.” You told him with a throaty chuckle. “They can be a little souvenir.”

Fuck, that’s hot. He thought to himself as he tucked them into his back pocket.

“So, should we do this again sometime?” He asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say to you now. He definitely wanted to do it again. He wanted to do it a lot. But he was worried this was just a quick fling for you, a release after a stressful mission.

“Aww, puppy.” You pouted playfully at him. “We’ll do it again. Those stupid grins of yours have grown on me. I don’t think I have it in me to break your heart.”

He gave you one of those signature grins now as he pressed himself into your back and nuzzled in your hair. You whipped the door open and held his hand as you led him out to a chorus of whistles and catcalls, and he wore that stupid grin all night.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[violet-knox]

heyy :) I saw that your asks were open and of course I read your rules before coming here and I was wondering if you can write an adult snape fic where the reader is a fellow professor that he’s know from his childhood and they start to rekindle thier relationship

thanks in advance and keep up the great work !! <33

Gifts of the Past

Pairing: Snape x Professor!Reader

Summary: Severus thought his week couldn’t get any worse after finding out he’d need to teach his Slytherin’s to dance until Dumbledore announces the arrival of a new Professor joining the staff.

Word Count: 6207

A/N: So when I read these requests, this idea formed in my head and I couldn’t help but merge them (side note: as the first request didn’t specify a gender while the second did, I adhered to the first). I hope both requests were satisfied while also providing a unique piece to the ever growing list of snape x reader stories on here and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to both anons (I’m assuming you’re two different people) for your asks and your kind words!

Also I know the gif I picked is suggestive but the reader is gender neutral which I’m proud of because it was very difficult to keep it that way with the dancing scenes. I just thought the gif was so beautiful when I found it, just look at that cuff 🤤 but the gif choice doesn’t hint to the reader’s gender or race as it may appear. 

Nothing could have brightened his mood more than the thought of him walking into the Great Hall and finding the entire school deserted. It was really the only way Merlin could make up for the hand he’d been dealt this year and every other year since Potter invaded Hogwarts. This year however, the boy was clearly attempting to test his natural gift to bring trouble as the past three years hadn’t provided him with sufficient danger to prove his talent. It was bad enough he’d brought such a dangerous tournament to the school, but of course he had to go and get himself picked despite being underaged. Severus felt like he hadn’t gone a day without stressing since Dumbledore first made the announcement about the Triwizard Tournament and just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the old Wizard had to instruct the head of houses to prepare their students for the Yule ball, as if the schools only Potion’s Master didn’t already have enough on his plate. 

He’d spent the rest of the day sulking after his attempts to persuade the Headmaster someone else should take up the privilege of teaching his Slytherin’s to dance failed. Sleep could barely find him last night as he kept hoping he’d wake up from this nightmare, that the universe would cut him a break, but it was clear as he walked by the tables housing the school’s guests, his eyes shooting Dumbledore daggers as he passed the smiling man on his way to his seat at the high table, that he wouldn’t rest so long as Potter slept under the same roof as him. He slouched in his seat and waited for the day to begin so he could look forward to its end, staring so hard at the table before him, he was sure it would eventually catch fire if food didn’t replace his rage soon. 

Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat to make his morning announcements, Severus finding himself focussing his anger towards him the more he rambled on about the first task and the current status of the tournament. His resentment towards the man only grew as he mentioned the Yule ball until he introduced the new professor who would replace Septima Vector for Arithmancy until the end of the year, a very familiar name washing away all his anger and replacing it with absolute horror. His head snapped to the side as he watched you stand with a smile, waving at the students who clapped for you. Severus’ eyes widened as he forced himself to join them, giving a few shallow claps but finding himself unable to slip out of the astoundment he found himself in. 

You smiled and looked over towards Severus as you sat back down, sensing everyone’s anticipation for breakfast to begin. You caught his eye and saw the shock written all over his face before breaking your stare and shifting your eyes to your lap. At least the expression on his face told you he hadn’t tried to ignore you when he’d walked right past you this morning to his seat at the high table. There were no words to describe how you’d been feeling today. Nervous about your first day as a professor at Hogwarts, concerned about being accepted into the family of staff, anxious to see Severus again after all these years and absolutely heartbroken when he didn’t even acknowledge you as he walked past you like you meant nothing to him.

The food appeared in front of you not long after you sat down, but you could hardly find your appetite as you felt Severus continuously glancing your way every chance he got. You did your best to chat with your new colleagues, keeping up polite conversation as they ate while you picked at your food. You watched Severus chug whatever beverage was in his goblet as he left his own plate completely untouched. He was the first to leave the table, watching with a frown as he slinked away behind some side door with no idea where it led. You let out a small sigh as you sat back in your seat, beginning to wonder if this career choice was a good idea. When Dumbledore approached you, mentioning Severus was now teaching at Hogwarts, serving as Potion’s master and Head of Slytherin, you felt excited. You’d missed him over the years since graduation, finding yourself regretting a lot about your relationship as time went on. But you’d taken this job offer as a sign to reconnect, a second chance to do what you didn’t have the courage for back during your school days.

You were so naive back then, thinking letters would be enough to keep you in contact with him after graduation, that you were closer to Severus than it seemed, but it was nothing more than a silly illusion created by your imagination. Looking back, you’d found yourself always claiming there was no good time to tell him how you felt, that you really liked him as something more than just a friend, but that was just an excuse for the fear you held onto every time you thought of him rejecting you. After seeing how close he was with Lily, how he buried himself in his schoolwork and made new friends when their friendship burned to the ground, you’d tried to push yourself, to be there for him and show him there was still someone in his life who thought he was worthy. But no matter what you did, you felt nearly as invisible as you did now, and perhaps in all these years since the war had ended, nothing had truly changed. 

One by one, professors and students began to file out of the Great Hall and as the room emptied, you slowly began to find yourself in complete distress, unsure of what to do about Severus, about this job and your possible conflict of interest. Pushing through, you tried to ignore your feelings and all thoughts of the Potion’s Master to focus on your classes. The day went by faster than you’d initially thought, each class easier than the last as the students seemed to accept you and your teaching style. Before you knew it, dinner had rolled around and knowing Severus had skipped lunch, eating nothing at breakfast, you anticipated seeing him already seated at the high table when you entered the room. Pausing a moment, you debated on what you should do, but your heart had already decided for you, your feet walking faster than you could process until you found yourself taking a seat next to him. 

“Hi Sev.” You spoke in such a low voice, soft yet reserved, like you were introducing yourself to a complete stranger. It saddened you that you felt so nervous with Severus when you used to be so close once upon a time. He looked back at you with those wide eyes of his and the more you stared into them, the more you felt like you didn’t know him at all. 

“(Y/N).” He stated your name with just a hint of surprise in his tone like his child-self was introducing you to him. He’d spent the day with such a headache thinking about what happened this morning, about you and everything that’s piled onto him. When he thought of you, he remembered the childhood friend who’d stuck by his side, who he’d taken for granted and who he could talk to about anything. But he struggled to feel that way again, to feel comfortable enough around you to open up to you and he wished that wasn’t the case. He needed someone to talk to, he needed someone there by his side these past few miserable years, but he could see now that he truly wasn’t deserving of such a thing, that he’d forever spend his life alone because that’s the card he’d dealt himself all those years ago and he had no right to try and get back what he’d lost.

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smiled, hoping this dense air between you would lighten with a bit of small talk. You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, his friendship and how close you once were. Everything was so much simpler back when you were eleven, still new to Hogwarts and oblivious to the world’s problems. Now, everything was different. You were both grown adults with responsibilities, changed as people and you weren’t even sure you’d mix well with him anymore.

“You too.” Severus happily retorted your attempt at making small talk, desperate to clasp at anything that could restore your lost friendship. Even as food appeared before him, he made no notion of filling his plate, his attention instead lay completely with you. “I-I had no idea you were joining the staff this year.”

You broke your gaze from his eyes and looked down at the table filled with food, your goblet was full and ready to be drunk, every other person in the room already indulging themselves in a well deserved meal. Looking over at Severus’ plate you found it as empty as yours, like he hadn’t even noticed the food had appeared as his eyes continued to study you while you slowly began to fill your plate, feeling less and less hungry as the seconds ticked by.  

“It was a last minute decision,” you said, continuing to avoid his eyes as you began to nibble on a muffin. Severus watched you a moment, feeling comfortable enough to eat for the first time that day as he picked up a sandwich.

“I’m glad you decided to take the job,” he said, keeping his gaze on you as much as he could before munching on his food. His tone sounded so sincere and you couldn’t help but stare at him, wondering how he truly felt about you being here. This morning, you’d felt so hurt by his cold shoulder, almost ready to quit if things didn’t go as well as they did during your first lesson for your classes throughout the day. Now, here he was claiming to be happy you were sitting here beside him, and you so badly wanted to believe that.

“Oh?” you asked curiously, hoping he meant what he said, hoping there was a chance to at least regain your old friendship. “Because it didn’t seem that way this morning.”

Severus’ eyes suddenly took on the weight of the world as he looked down at his lap. You could feel his own disappointment in himself, his shoulders slouching, his hair falling over his face in the same way it always did when you were kids. Clearly things hadn’t changed that much, and you were almost happy to see you still knew him as well as you did. 

“I apologize. I admit, you’ve caught me in a rather unpleasant mood,” Severus stated, feeling guilty for how he’d acted this morning. You were right. He should have said something to you, noticed you before Dumbledore spoke your name or at the very least came to find you earlier in the day to apologize sooner.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked him, relieved his stiffened attitude wasn’t the doing of the fact you’d re-entered his life. You turned your body towards him and began to feel like a child again, meeting Severus outside in the courtyard to talk about your day, to let him unburden his issues on you as you comforted him.

“There was a Head of House meeting yesterday. We were told by the Headmaster the responsibility of preparing the students for the Yule ball lay in our hands.”

You smiled, surprising a giggle as you remembered the night of Slughorn’s party, Severus tripping over his own feet when you asked him to dance with you, though you didn’t blame him for it after he’d just gone through his growth spurt. He had no such excuse now of course, but you could tell he hadn’t danced since that day, that he worried about how a lesson may go with his students, especially after the reputation you heard he held as a professor at Hogwarts. 

“If you’d like, I could help with your lessons,” you offered without a second thought. 

“You would do that?” Severus looked at you in awe, rather stunned by your selflessness after how he’d treated you. He couldn’t believe his luck, how you’d shown up just in time to help him with a secret he’d been dreading would be the talk of the entire school after he failed to teach his students to dance. He could only imagine the loss of respect he’d gain after working so hard to earn it all these years, how the students would make fun of him, how he’d never be able to step foot in the staffroom again without being ridiculed. 

“Of course. Anything for an old friend.” You sounded almost hurt as you spoke, knowing he’d likely see you as nothing more than an old friend. But if the universe had placed you in this new job, pushed you to him, perhaps you were meant to take the second chance and risk your current relationship with him. You were after all being trusted enough to help him develop his dancing skills, something you were sure the scary professor of the dungeons wouldn’t easily entrust to anyone. “Care to begin after dinner?”

Severus nodded with a smile, a look of content settling on his face and for a moment, you could have sworn you saw his eyes twinkle, something you hadn’t seen since the first day he’d stepped foot on Hogwarts grounds. You both continued your meal, Severus feeling calmer as he continued speaking with you, catching up on what you’d been up to all these years. Thoughts of the tournament, the upcoming war, the Potter boy’s knack for finding trouble slipping his mind if not for a brief moment. He allowed himself instead to turn back the clock to a time much simpler than his current life, a time where Lily was still alive, where he still had a friend who cared about him. He’d taken for granted so much of his life as a boy, so much of his younger years spent filled with hatred and resentment towards those he blamed for making him miserable that he’d missed all the good parts he could only hope to regain now as an adult. You were the one constant in his life, the one thing that didn’t complicate his life, the one person he could count on and he’d completely dismissed what you had to offer. He was a fool for focussing on what he didn’t have rather than what he did have, a greedy teenager who should have seen what was right in front of his eyes. 

Finishing off your food, you followed Severus down to the dungeons once the crowd of students had scattered throughout the castle. You walked alongside him, unable to help yourself from smiling at how easily you’d both settled back into your old selves, back to when your only concerns involved grades and who would win the next Quidditch match. You felt oddly nostalgic as you looked around the potion’s classroom, the layout exactly the same as when you were a student. You took your time to look around as Severus wove his wand and cleared some space. Walking up to the desk at the front of the room, you picked up the old quill sitting next to a pile of scrolls in the corner.

“You still have this?” You smiled as you ran the tips of your fingers along the feather, still intact and preserved rather well after all these years. You could still remember the look on Severus’ face when you’d given him the quill set you’d spent the majority of your money on for Christmas in your seventh year; complete shock with a dash of regret that he couldn’t afford something equally as stunning. He’d promised that one day he’d repay your kindness, that when he’d made something of himself, he’d buy you something worth ten times as much as the quill set that had gotten him through his Potion’s Mastery and all his days as a professor. 

As time passed, the memory the quill held began to fade and slowly, he’d forgotten the promise he made. He walked over to you and took the quill from your hand, realizing just how much he truly had to make up for after all these years. He set it back down on the desk and began to wonder if Merlin had sent you here for a reason, if his redemption wasn’t just about protecting Lily’s son, but about reconnecting with those who’d supported him, who he’d brushed away and to take the second chance at a normal life he was being offered. 

“I never thanked you properly for that gift,” he said under his breath as he stared at the quill, now the centerpiece of his desk, a new reminder for what he owed you. His eyes filled with longing, the sparkle you saw earlier slowly dwindling away as he hung his head low. You looked at him with such awe. Life had not been kind to him since graduation, that was clear through the weight he carried. He frowned when you asked him what he’d been up to since you last saw him, flashes of all his mistakes, all his sins passing before him. You could see it and it pained you to know that he hadn’t lived through the dreams he’d once shared with you as a child. 

“You don’t need to thank me Sev, that was a long time ago,” you told him with a smile, beyond touched that he’d kept something as simple as a quill when you knew he could afford much better now. He’d taken care of it, even kept the original nibs that came with the set and the inkwell which no doubt had to take a chunk of his time just to clean it out and refill. 

Taking his hand, you led him to the center of the classroom, turning to face him, gently positioning his hands to begin your first dry run of the dance you would soon share with him every evening before bed. His limbs obeyed you as you took his hand and pressed yourself to him, closer than you’d been all those years back when he’d first danced with you.

“Just, take it slow and let me lead. And then we can switch,” you whispered to him as you began to sway across the floor. The room fell into a soft silence as you led him, his feet struggling to follow yours at first, but he was a quick study as usual. Eventually, you felt confident enough in his movements to let him lead, switching position as you continued to sway in silence, Severus’ eyes lost in yours until the minutes passed by, turning into days. Before you knew it, you’d spent every evening after dinner for the past week with Severus, dancing with him for hours until it was time for bed. 

You’d never felt so close to someone as you did with him now, like that missing part of your soul had finally found itself again. A week had passed, yet you felt like you’d lived here for years as he had. Every time he held you in his arms, your heart slowed to match his even beat, your eyes flickering between his and his lips. You wanted to tell him how you felt about him, how much you’d admired him, how you’d always loved and cared about him even when he didn’t notice you, but every time you tried, your heart collapsed in on itself, stopping you in fear of ruining what you had now just like it had when you were kids. The emotions you felt when he pulled you closer were too much, when he looked deep into your eyes and gave you that smile like he was trying to bring you both back to that night at Slughorn’s party, how different things may have turned out if he’d known how to dance. Perhaps you would have had the courage to tell him how you felt then, kissed him before he’d tripped over himself. Time was such a delicate fragment in the ensembled artwork of the universe, affected by every movement, every word spoken by every human being on earth. 

Looking into his eyes, you saw that same twinkle he seemed to only let shine for you. It had been him who’d insisted he needed to practice again and again every night. It was him who’d always led you to his classroom, locking the doors and even bringing music to keep you both company as you danced the night away. He was as mysterious as the students had said, as lonely as your colleagues had told you, but you didn’t want to believe it. He was still that boy you met in the library in first year no matter the life he lived.

“Severus?” you whispered, his face so close to yours, his hands holding yours tightly. He looked at you with wonder, waiting for your words, for the question he knew you’d kept on the tip of your tongue since the day you'd arrived. He feared it, worried about what you may think of him if he answered it truthfully. He had yet to share everything about his life, how he’d betrayed your memory, his promise to you, that he was to blame for the death of their friend. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You sounded so nervous, your eyes shifting down to look away from him and his concern suddenly grew. He stopped his motions as he held you still, waiting for the words he feared would slip your tongue. His hand tightened his hold on you, needing you to stay with him, to keep him company. You’d become the only thing this past week that kept him at peace, that kept him alive. He looked forward to your evenings together, the thought of simply swaying through the classroom the only thing keeping him whole. 

“What is it?” he mumbled cautiously, a bit of resentment present in his tone. 

You’d terrified him, you could see your words worried him to no end. You couldn’t tell how he would react if you told him the truth and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. You’d both cherished every moment you had together again, cherished the past, the present and the future you could see alongside one another, but you weren’t sure how much you could bear the days if all he saw in you was an old friend. Thoughts of how happy he’d seemed the last few days roamed in your mind, playing on repeat, bleeding into your childhood memories. You could almost feel your emotions reciprocated as you looked at him, your chest pressed to his as you leaned in, Severus frozen in his place, his mind blank with awe. 

Words could never be enough to describe how you felt, to tell him how much he meant to you. But Severus was never one with words anyways, never caring for them as he always read people better through their actions and as he did so now, he wondered why of all the people in the world, why of everyone you’d met in your life, he was the one you wanted to be close enough to press your lips to his. He wondered what made him so special, why he was so lucky to have you showing your affection for him through the gentle touch of a kiss. Your lips were barely parted, moving slower then he had when he danced with you. He could feel your nerves as you kissed him slowly wither away when he kissed you back. 

Your hands grasped at him, and for a moment, when he felt you pull your hand away from his, he thought the moment had ended, only to be snapped back into it as your fingers were buried in his hair. Your free hand tugged at the ascot he wore, Severus finding himself pulled into you as you walked backwards, your lips never leaving his. You moved your lips eagerly until your back hit the wall, pulling Severus closer as you encouraged him to press himself into you. He moaned into your kiss, his hands wrapping around you, one pressed into your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades. His senses heightened as he tried to memorize the feeling of your kiss, of your figure under his fingertips, your chest against his, your legs entangling themselves with his. 

You were almost disappointed when you both parted for air, huffing as you tried to catch your breaths, but the look on his face was more than worth the loss of contact. He looked as if he was still questioning reality, like he wasn’t sure about your intentions and of course, as before, words couldn’t help him make sense of the situation. Your hand slipped out of his hair instead and cupped his jaw, your thumb swiping across his cheek as he nuzzled into your touch. You could see the weight of the world returning as his smile weakened, his eyes closed as the soft sound of the music filled the room. 

It broke your heart to see him like this, like he found himself unworthy of love, like he thought himself destined to be alone. You began peppering him with light kisses over his cheek, his nose, his jaw, what little skin of his neck you could reach until you finally saw his smile returning to his face. He opened his eyes and held his hand up to press against yours, still nuzzling into your touch as the twinkle in his eyes sparkled brighter than before. 

“I’m not the same person you once knew,” he whispered, his heart breaking with every word, his instinct to push you away overtaking his need to have you as close to him as possible. He could hardly believe you felt this way about him, that after all these years, he’d been blinded by his own hatred to see what was in front of him and here he was trying to ruin what had yet to even be explored.

“Well, I’d be willing to get to know the new you if you’ll allow it,” you said softly, smiling as you showed no interest in running away from the spark between you. 

“(Y/N), there’s something about my past you should know-”

“Sev,” you interrupted him when you saw the hurt in his eyes, the pain he brought on himself during such a sweet moment. You’d waited years for this day, and you weren’t about to let him ruin it when you knew he needed a moment like this. A short period of time to simply exist in the presence of someone that loved him, to forget the rest of the world and live in the moment. “You don’t have to tell me anything now.”

You knew he wasn’t ready, that he was only pushing himself to tell you whatever it was weighing on him because you’d kissed him. But you could wait until he was comfortable enough to share, until the time was right and now was not that time. You’d learned a lot this past week, how truly stressed he was, how the Yule Ball was far from the only thing that had him stressing every second of every day. He needed a chance to relax, to find harmony in his life and whatever secret he wanted to tell you would do the exact opposite. 

Severus smiled as he felt the tension ease off his shoulders, the sound of the music returning to his ears. He reached down and took your hand, slowly stepping away as he led you back to the center of the room, offering to finish your dance, unable to thank you enough for all your patience, for everything you’d ever done for him. You happily obliged and danced the night away once more, looking forward to repeating your new routine tomorrow and the day after that until the holidays finally arrived. 

He couldn’t count how many times he’d danced with you, how many kisses you shared in between, yet this morning felt nothing like the last few weeks. Today, he was to dance in front of his entire house with you, to teach them what you’d taught him and though he was utterly grateful for your lessons, he couldn’t stop the shaking pressure he felt for his reputation and the reputation of his house. He wanted to make you proud today, to help his students excel and to keep the school from spreading awful rumours like it had when he was young. 

Tightening his ascot, he smoothed over his robes and ran his fingers through his hair a few times, sighing as it lay as flat as the pancakes he’d never managed to master whenever he cooked for himself. He held his head up high as he left his chambers and walked down the hall to his classroom, met with the majority of his house already waiting outside his door. You were nowhere to be found and he could hardly wait for this day to end. He let his students shuffle inside as he prepared the room for the lesson to come, minutes passing by as more students passed through those doors, but you had yet to arrive. Time was nearing and he was beginning to worry you had decided against aiding him in this particular lesson. He looked at the clock and sighed as the seconds hand passed twelve, indicating time was up. 

“Gather around,” he commanded the room as silence fell around him, all eyes gleaming at him with anticipation as he felt his heart pounding with fear. “The Yule Ball, is a celebrated event taking place on the night of Christmas Eve; a tradition carried out for centuries and as students of the hosting school, students representing the house of Salazar Slytherin, I expect nothing less than an adequate performance from each one of you when the night arrives.”

Severus spoke to each of his students, walking down the classroom, eyeing each and every one of them. He did his best to keep his mind off of you, trying to stay focused on the task at hand instead, but you’d been at the forefront of his mind for so long and as much of a skilled legilimens as he was, even he wasn’t susceptible to the effects of the love you had for him. 

“Now, the core event of the evening will of course be the dance. As such, today’s lesson will concentrate on the development of your dancing skills,” Severus froze in his place, losing his train of thought as his eyes met yours. You stood there with a smile behind all the students, closing the door behind you. “A demonstration will be presented, and you are each expected to pay attention as none of you will leave this room until you’ve performed well enough to uphold the reputation of your house.”

You pressed your lips together as you watched him address his class, rather taken back by his dominant presence. You couldn’t believe this was the same shy boy you’d met all those years ago, the same one that would rather be left alone than be placed in front of a room like this but you felt oh so proud of him and everything he’d accomplished thus far. “Professor (Y/L/N), if you may join me.”

He held out his hand for you as you stepped forward, the students parting like the sea as they stared in awe. The shock on their faces shouldn’t have surprised you, since you’d had many of them come complaining to you about all the Potion’s assignments they were being dealt, but you’d known Severus for so long now, you couldn’t imagine having any other relationship with him than the one that had blossomed over the last few weeks.

Severus led you to the centre of the room, waving his wand and allowing the music to fill the room before positioning himself waiting for the right moment to begin gliding across from floor with you. His eyes never left yours, his feet moving so elegantly. It felt nothing like the dry runs you’d done with him over the weeks, like he was almost trying to impress you. You missed how close you were to one another as you danced now, eyes all on you. But most of all, you missed the twinkle in his eyes, the smile he wore on his lips as he held you so sincerely. 

“Pair up and start practicing,” he ordered and immediately you watched his students obey. It wasn’t at all like what everyone had said about the Potion’s Master. It wasn’t fear that commanded them, it was the respect and admiration they had for their Head of House that pushed them to follow his instructions without question. You smiled at him as you both continued to dance, the students following your movements, many of whom continued to look over to you as an example. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you whispered to him. Slowly throwing your arm over his shoulder to get as close to him as he’d allow in front of the students. “I was looking for this.”

You showed him your wrist and watched him let his guard down if not for a split second. His eyes analyzed the old green ribbon you had tied around your wrist, almost as well preserved as the quill he kept on his desk. He watched it disappear as you placed your hand back over his shoulder, memories of the first time you’d wrapped it around his wrist for good luck when Slytherin was playing Gryffindor in his first year during the Quidditch finals swarming his mind. That was of course, the one and only time he saw his team win the Quidditch cup during his days as a student, his first and only time to have worn that ribbon, giving it back to you in complete dismissal after the game. He’d abandoned you that night, choosing to party with his housemates who he hoped to fit in with over the simple celebration you’d invited him to. You looked so hurt the next day and it took a long while before you spoke to him again. But despite the horrible memories, the guilt he felt now, you’d still kept that ribbon and it warmed his heart. 

“I thought since you were so nervous about today, I’d wear it for luck,” you told him, hiding the fact you’d tossed the ribbon in the bottom of your trunk after he so rudely dismissed you, never to see the light of day until now. You’d debated tossing it out throughout the years, but you could never do it. It served as a reminder for what you’d almost lost, for the love you still carried and the potential your relationship with Severus had.

“(Y/N), I-I’ve been meaning to ask you,” He whispered in such a low voice, you could hardly hear what he was saying, his words spoken for your ears and yours alone. “Would you accompany me to the Ball?”

“Of course, I will.” You happily accepted his proposal as you continued to sway in his arms, your conversation coming to an end as a new song began. Severus stepped away from you, his hair covering his smile as he composed himself to address the class, instructing his students to continue practicing. You both spent the remainder of the evening helping the students, waiting to be alone once more as rumours spread throughout the school of Professor Snape’s dancing and his surprising partner. Many had looked forward to the sight, wondering how he may fare on the dance floor, though no one expected to see the grace in his movements and the chemistry between you. 

He’d spent all those nights with you in the hope’s rumours wouldn’t spread through these walls, but he supposed there was no avoiding it and if talk had to have spread, he was at the very least glad it didn’t tarnish his reputation. You and he would of course never hear the end of it from your colleagues; the first of the Hogwarts professors to have a chance at maintaining a relationship whilst holding a job at the school, many of whom still remembered teaching you as students. None of it mattered to him though. They could all talk as much as they liked, he would forever keep you close to his heart, safe from the rest of the world and cherish every moment he had with you so long as you allowed him in your life. He was utterly grateful for the second chance he was given, the one good thing to appear in his life amongst the sea of never ending darkness and he couldn’t have imagined any better way to combat it than to do it with you.

~

A/N: Can you tell I’m not a dancer? 😅

So this didn’t turn out exactly as I’d hoped. It doesn’t feel as organic as I wanted it to be, but then again, I can’t really expect it to feel organic since the dance lesson wasn’t in the books. Still, it was fun to write and I found myself restraining myself from going on forever with this story. I hope you found it refreshing and entertaining nonetheless. And who knows, maybe I’ll do a part 2 one day with the actual Yule Ball 😁

~

As mentioned previously on my schedule update post, I’m discontinuing my tag list so this will be the last time I tag anyone on any one-shots. Thank you all for sticking with me, your support truly means the world to me and I hope you’ll continue to read what I have planned for the future 💜

@sleepysnapesnake @wanderingtrails @darkthought15 @bush-viper-cutie @fluffymadamina @dracos-mudblood @mitchiesdungeon @severuslovebot @ravenhopeflyte54 @cuddlebunny0330 @flowerdementia

[not-the-teen-witch]

Daddy Issues Lucius Malfoy x Daughter! Reader

Tiktok has done its magic and my obsession with Lucius Malfoy has sparked. Or it might just be my daddy issues acting up again, who know lol. Anyways, reader is Draco’s twin, a Gryffindor, and is basically the Sirius Black of the Malfoy family. She/her pronouns used. No warnings. Though you should know this is my first fanfic after going MIA on Wattpad and Quotev for a few years whoopsies.

Takes place over the course of first year. Listen to “Daddy Issues” by the Neighbourhood while reading to set the mood. 

I might make this into a multiple part story. But not follow the scenes strictly, just random drabbles here and there?? Idk, hopefully this won’t flop lol.

Daddy Issues

You ask me what I'm thinking about I'll tell you that I'm thinking about Whatever you're thinking about Tell me something that I'll forget And you might have to tell me again It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“Now, Y/N. Just like your brother did it. Just run straight through that brick wall, and you’ve made.” Your mother, Narcissa, says gently patting you on the back to motivate you.

You bit your lips to hide your nerves. Straight through it, huh? Oh, merlin. What if it decides I’m not good enough for it. I’ll surely make a fool out of myself. 

You grip tightly around your trolley, “Are you sur-”

“We don’t have all day now, darling. The train leaves at eleven, sharp. Enough twisting with your thumbs and get a move on.” Your father cuts you off. 

You grimace. Your relationship with your father, the oh so great Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t the best, at least at the moment. Don’t get it wrong, you’re his precious baby girl, the absolute apple of his eye, but you have a few, in his words, tweaks in your personality that his purist mindset just did not share.  

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues And if you were my little girl I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues And I do too

It began when you received your Hogwarts letter on your 11th birthday earlier that summer.

“Dad! I got my letter!” You say, racing down the steps of the Malfoy Manner to see your father.

He replies from his study room with a, “Don’t run, you’ll fall, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, always so overprotective. When you reach him you wave the letter in front of him, “Look! I finally got it!”

He stops reading his book and looks up, all while shifting from his area on the velvet green armchair to make room for you. You immediately take a seat in the small space. 

“Let’s see what we have here now, shall?” You nod your head at him as he opens the letter. “Ah yes, Hogwarts. Truly shocking how they want someone with the likes of you on their grounds.”

He has a twinkly in his eye when he says this. You know he’s joking though, that’s just the interactions between you two. 

You grab his face with your hands to get his attention, “Are you going to miss me?”

“Miss you? My own and only daughter who wakes up every morning with a mission to have my hair turn grey early. Miss you, you say?”

“Dad,” you groan.

He hides a smirk, “Happy birthday, my dear. You’ll make a wonderful Slytherin and teach those mudbloods who’s in charge.” 

About that..... “Dad, no.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Stop that, don’t call them mudbloods. And what makes you so sure I’ll be put in Slytherin?”

“Ha,” he lets out a bark of laughter. “There’s never been a Malfoy that fit in any other house. That’s absurd.” 

I tried to write your name in the rain But the rain never came So I made with the sun The shame always comes at the worst time

You look down.

“Y/N.” You look back at your father. 

His grey eyes that mirror yours perfectly, look at you coldly “Don’t bring shame to the Malfoy family. Remember that.” 

You ask me what I'm thinking about I'll tell you that I'm thinking about Whatever you're thinking about Tell me something that I'll forget And you might have to tell me again It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“Make me proud.” Your father says, right before you enter the train. 

He flashes you one of his rare, genuine smiles and kisses you on the forehead. 

You heard him, Y/N. Make father proud. 

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you

You find the first empty compartment you see on the train. Your brother already went off with some of the other pureblood children. And you’re not exactly fond of them. 

There’s a boy with glasses and another with red hair when you enter. 

“Ehm, hi...” You awkwardly say. 

The boy with glasses smiles at you. “Hi there.” 

“Would it be alright if I sat here?” 

“Sure, take a seat.” 

I know that you got daddy issues And if you were my little girl I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues

You learn the two boys you sat with were Harry Potter and a Weasley named Ron. They were charming, although you were sure your father would disagree. Luckily you didn’t tell them your last name. Who knows what outburst that’d cause from the redhead. 

You stand next to them as students get called up to get sorted.

Your stomach feels like it’s being shaken by mountain trolls and you try to control your breathing.

“GRYFFINDOR”

“RAVENCLAW” 

“HUFFLEPUFF” 

The sorting hat continues to call out the names of the houses as the students go up, one by one. 

Your twin gets called. 

Just as Draco takes a seat, the hat doesn’t even touch his head when it yells-

“SLYTHERIN” 

Draco has a look of pride on his face. Typical. 

“As expected,” mutters Ron to you and Harry. 

“Y/N Malfoy” 

Oh dear. Your turn.

“ -wait you’re his twin?” Harry look sat you confused.

You see your twin brother flash you a thumbs up.

You ignore them both and step forward. 

“Another Malfoy I see. But you’re more interesting than the rest. Unexpected. Ambitious? Yes, very much so but there’s also bravery. Lots of it too.” The sorting hat says.

No! You’re yelling in your head. Bravery? That’s Gryffindor. Please no. Father would disown me. 

“Slytherin then? No, no no. Tell daddy he’s in for a surprise because Slytherin not fit for you. You fit in-” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat exclaims.

The whole hall murmurs. “A Malfoy? Not in Slytherin?” “Gryffindor? Merlin, someone alert the Daily Prophet.” 

You get nudged towards the Gryffindor table, slowly you make your way.

 You hear a voice, “Well Fred, you know what this means.”

“I sure do, George.”

“WE GOT A MALFOY! WE GOT A MALFOY!” They chant and slowly the rest of the table begins to cheer loudly. The Slytherin’s table watches in awe. 

Your brother refuses to make eye contact with you. Your stomach drop at that.

I keep on tryin' to let you go I'm dyin' to let you know How I'm getting on I didn't cry when you left at first But now that you're dead, it hurts This time, I gotta know Where did my daddy go?

“First years! Follow me!” 

You begin to line up with the other first years. You stand near Ron and Harry. Ron gives you a suspicious look.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out. “I should have told you I’m a Malfoy.”

“You really shou-” Ron begins to say.

“No, it’s alright.” Says Harry. “You had your reasonings. Besides the point” he give Ron a sharp look, “You’re in Gryffindor now, that’s all that matters.”

“All that matters?” Uh oh, it’s your brother. “Wait until father hears about this. He’ll be mortified. You can kiss your spot on the family tree goodbye Y/N.” He looks disgusted at you.

“Leave her alone!” A first year girl with puffy hair and large teeth says. 

“And what are you going to do about it, mudblood.”

That sits off a rage off anger in you. 

“Oh shut it you prick!” Your brother looks at you, shocked. “I’ve had enough with your bigotry. Go ahead, tell father. We all know how much you want to be his favorite child, you kiss up!” You let out a angry sigh at that. 

“Well then, keep an eye out for a letter tomorrow morning by him. How does a Howler sound?” 

The girl with the puffy hair grabs your arm. “Come on”

“You know, I think you and I will get along just great.” 

I'm not entirely here Half of me has disappeared

It had been a few days since the sorting ceremony. Classes were already in full swing. 

You became very close friends with Hermione Granger, the girl who helped you out when your brother was acting like a complete, wild ferret. However, you and her got along quite well. You two had similar interests and were very dedicated in your classes. Granted you knew a bit more than her since you were taught were carefully by your father.

Speaking of father, you haven’t heard from him yet. But there’s no doubt in your mind that Draco hasn’t sent a letter yet. 

You shake out of your thought and make your way to the great hall. You spot the Weasleys and Harry and make a bee-line to them. 

“Hey there, mate!” One of the twins nod in your direction. 

“No mail yet?” You immediately ask the lot.

“Blimey, at least eat something first before you start interrogating us.” Ron mumbles, his cheeks filled with food. 

Harry shakes his head, “Not yet, expecting a letter?” 

“You could say that.” You groan.

You grab a piece of toast and spread butter over it when you hear the sounds of the owls flying into the great hall. You quickly scan them over, keeping your eyes peeled for any Malfoy family owls.

You look over to your twin, an owl drops a package of goodies. Must be from mother, you think bitterly in your head. You didn’t get a package. 

The thought makes your stomach drop. They must know then.

“Huh, would you look at that. It’s a howler!” Percy Weasley points out.

The twins glace at you.

“Y/N....” One of the twins begin to say.

The howler drops right in front of you. Oh grandfather Abraxas, please help me.

In fancy calligraphy that you recognize very well, the name Lucius Malfoy is written. 

“So... are you going to open that?” George asks with an eyebrow raised.

“The longer you wait, the louder it’ll be. But hey this is Lucius Malfoy so you don’t really have much luck any way.” Fred jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

You hands shake as you hold it, “Should- should i open it?” 

“It’s going to burst any second, no need for that.” Harry look bewildered.

“Oh to hell with it.“ You open the letter. 

“Y/N NARCISSA MALFOY!” Your father’s voice booms, the great hall quiets down to listen in. “A GRYFFINDOR?? NEVER IN THE MALFOY FAMILY NAME HAS THIS HAPPENED BEFORE. A BLOOD TRAITOR IS WHAT YOU ARE. IT DISGUSTS ME TO CALL YOU A CHILD OF MINE.”

Your face turns an unnatural shade of red but the howler continues in a calmer voice. “My own child, my little girl. Tarnishing the family name like this. Absurd. Don’t even think about coming home this winter. And enjoying the company of Mudbloods and other blood traitors? Tsk, a shame. Such a great shame. Don’t bother sending any letters, they will immediately be discarded of.” 

The letter explodes and the only evidence that it even happened it the looks of pity you getting from the three other houses. The Slytherin table is bursting with laughter. 

“Ignore them Y/N. Not worth your time. The Slytherin gits and your father. If you could even call a man like that a dad.” Ron shakes his head.

You catch your brother’s eyes, he has a soft, sad look but quickly switches when he catches you looking. 

“Did you bloody hear that? I could never be such an embarrassment to the wizarding name.” Your brother boasts. 

Your friends try to divert your attention but all you can think of is your dad. 

No. Don’t be sad Y/N, you say to yourself. You’re meant to be a Gryffindor, and you’ll prove daddy wrong. Right? You’re a Malfoy after all. 

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I agree with your Jily thoughts but wondering if you could talk a bit more about it? Why did James bother wasting all that time chasing Lily? Was she just that pretty? Were they ever happy or truly in love? Why did she say yes? If the war didn't happen who would have Jily ended up with? I'd like to think someone like Andromeda (not her exactly, but someone from a pureblood family who held non racist values) for James and i dunno maybe a muggle for Lily? Considering muggleborns arent exactly set up for success and I cant see Lily being okay with living as a second class citizen

For reference, some heretical thoughts on James and Lily's marriage. Also some thoughts on James which include some thoughts on his relationship with Lily.

And you really want me to get flayed over the internet, don't you anon?

Well, I guess that's what I'm here for. So here we go, hopefully people very upset by this sort of thing have their anti filters up.

Why Did James Bother Wasting All that Time Chasing After Lily?

For what it's worth, especially when they're teenagers before real life sets in, I do think James likes Lily.

She's very pretty, which certainly helps, but she's also very driven, very smart, and seems to be very personable (though it does not seem as if she is close with many).

Lily has a lot of likeable qualities beyond just her face that James could be interested in.

That said, there's also her background. I think, especially for a young James in Hogwarts, Lily being muggleborn would make her very appealing.

By pursuing her, he is actively spitting in the face of the Blacks, the Malfoys, and pretty much name your smarmy pureblood family. More, Lily is... not the token muggleborn per se, but the golden standard.

She's pretty, very smart, achieves very good results, again is personable, and all around pleasant. She's the muggleborn that defies the rules and you can take to parties and say, "Wow, look how amazing muggleborns are!"

Compare her to Snape, who is a halfblood, comes from an abusive household, is impoverished, is not good looking, and is not personable.

Notice that James and friends torment the living hell out of Snape, but it's cool, they're progressive because James likes Lily.

And then there's also the challenge of it.

Lily keeps saying no.

Rather than get discouraged, this just encourages James, as it means he's not trying hard enough. James seems to be the guy who likes the chase, if he wasn't, then he would have given up years ago as you said.

Were They Ever Happy or Truly in Love?

I imagine there was a time when they were happy.

They did date shortly in Hogwarts and it must have gone well enough for the relationship to survive graduation. If it was unbearably awful they would have broken up with each other long before that point.

Now, do I think Lily knew the full extent of how much James and pals harassed Snape? No.

Do I imagine Lily had to put up with a lot of talk about how progressive James and Pals are because Sirius has an ACDC t-shirt? Yes.

Do I think Lily's life without Snape proved very bleak and she faced a bleaker future with prospects of unemployment and poverty? Yes.

Do I imagine that Lily got in the way of bro-time for James? Well, he probably made bro-time happen anyway, but she must have to some extent and I'm sure Sirius asked him, "Dude?! What happened to us?!"

But again, if they really were miserable together, they wouldn't have made it to graduation.

In love?

Well, it's hard to say, but I'm inclined to say no.

In Hogwarts they're too young, they don't know enough about each other. They might be riding high on puppy love, maybe, but that's not the same thing.

What we see outside of Hogwarts points to constant stress and hardship that would ruin even the most functional relationship. The small glimpses we do have into their marriage then (that James would run off while in hiding with the invisibility cloak, risking all of their lives, for no reason) is not good.

I imagine as the realities of being in hiding, of having a prophesied child, sunk in their relationship fell into complete disrepair.

If they were in love, I don't think love could survive that, at least, not with these two.

Why Did She Say Yes?

God, you people are going to kill me.

Well, first, Lily as a muggleborn has no prospects and after losing Snape she has no friends.

Lily's last few years of Hogwarts are desperately lonely, James seems to have toned it down and appears to be one of the few purebloods sympathetic to her, and he really seems to like her. He has never wavered in liking her once over many years.

He seems like he's changed.

Perhaps, she can give him a chance.

I imagine Lily at first tentatively agrees to go on a date, and he is charming and funny, so one date turns into two and then they're officially dating.

As for marriage.

... Yeah I just have to say it, shotgun wedding.

They get married and have a child very quickly, and granted, that seems to be the norm in the wizarding world but remember their circumstances.

Both Lily and James are active fighters in Dumbledore's illegal vigilante group, neither appears to have a career (James being old money doesn't have to but I imagine Lily tried (and failed) to find one).

Lily is muggleborn. I don't care how progressive James' parents are, as the heir of a very wealthy and established pureblood family I'm sure they looked at this red-headed muggleborn without a galleon to her name and just died of a heart attack.

True, James was their only child and the product of many difficult years conceiving, and he's from a more progressive family but...

I just see the Potters and many other of the 'lighter' pureblood families having more of the philosophy of "Muggleborns should absolutely go to Hogwarts, get an education, and have a place in society. But don't invite them over for dinner."

That James is allowed to marry Lily very quickly, with seemingly little fuss, with seemingly no obligation of turning down a previously arranged marriage (though the surviving Marauders could have left out such details when recapping things to Harry), and how quickly Harry is born in the times he's born in...

Shotgun wedding.

If the War Hadn't Happened Who Would James and Lily Ended Up With?

Well, I think the shotgun wedding would have happened regardless. But let's say that's not in the books and that there's not a war disrupting things either.

I imagine the relationship doesn't work out as they realize they have different interests and are too different of people. There's very little tying them together.

James likely marries whoever his parents arrange for him to marry. A daughter of a well-to-do established, pureblood line. Which of these women this would be is anyone's guess, but somebody. Probably not any of the Black sisters as they're already accounted for.

As for Lily, I imagine she remains single for a good while. Everyone she knows in her age range is from Hogwarts, this world is very small, and she's probably not going to end up with any of them for the issues you list.

Purebloods really don't get it. The closest are... Arthur Weasley. And when he and Sirius Black riding motorcycles are the closest your culture gets to respect, you're in for a rough dating scene.

If she does end up in a relationship it's with somebody outside of canon or non-obvious.

(And look at me not plugging my ship because I know it's ridiculous. Be proud of me readers.)

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed in The Shadows - Prologue

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,7k

Cecily Grant. At your service. Ordinary Sixth Year Gryffindor, Chaser of the Quidditch team and mediocre witch. Dreams of becoming the number one Healer anyone has ever seen (at least my parents think that's my dream) and having my first kiss before I bloody graduate. Don't I sound absolutely charming? Special? Note-worthy?

No. And apparently the rest of the school agrees since I hardly get acknowledged by anyone outside of class...or year. We're a big school, of course no one knows everyone. But at least within one year...

"OI, are you daydreaming again?" Marlene flicked my forehead. Oh well, I guess some did notice me.

"It's not called daydreaming when I'm just trying to ignore your traditional boy rant in the morning," I teased, picking the sweet back up to munch on it.

Marlene scoffed, "At least, I have boys to rant about." She flipped me off when I pressed my hand against my heart with an inaudible 'ouch', causing her to giggle.

Yeah, I shouldn't be complaining about my life. I have an established friendship group, my grades are good enough to satisfy my parents and Hogwarts was an amazing school in general. Plus, I even had a hobby. Quidditch. Hah, take that.

Nonetheless, the routine that my life had become was pretty boring, depressing even if I were to look at my boy's department. Or rather, lack of. I know I shouldn't identify myself through the boyfriends I had or had not, because I'm more than that (female empowerment, y'all!) but as a sixteen year old you are simply not able to resist the urge to want a male in your life and experience all that romantic ish. Especially when you see all your friends developing crushes. Not that I had never not developed a crush. I currently had more than one crush to be honest. But their crushes were actually two-sided and resulted in dates and relationships…well, Marlene's did at least. If Lily would only get as far as a second date until the bloke suddenly disappeared from Hogwarts (just kidding, they would just run away at first sight). Three guesses, whose fault that was.

Anyways, back to me because at least in my story I want to be the protagonist. My crushes were never reciprocated even if I thought so at the beginning (Marlene's fault mostly), so I was left as probably the only Sixth Year in Gryffindor's history to have never been in a romantic relationship. And mind you, I don't have big expectations. I can't really in my position. I'm no Lily Evans with her shiny red hair and bright, emerald green eyes and neither a Marlene McKinnon with her tanned skin, hazelnut brown hair- I'm getting off topic again, which is me.

I sighed. Not even in my thoughts I could keep the attention to myself, why would anyone else?

…

"She's not listening again," Marlene huffed, flicking my forehead.

After that inner-monologue at breakfast, I headed off to the first class this morning; History of Magic. I had a distinct feeling I would continue with that monologue in class. No wonder, I failed that class in my O.W.L's. Meh, whatever.

Since Lily and Marlene were closer friends than any of them with me, it was natural for them to sit together in every class, which caused me to slip into any free seat next to someone I usually never talk to. Joy.

To my surprise, I saw a vacant seat next to Remus Lupin, who was still standing and taking his stuff out whilst his two friends Sirius Black and James Potter took over the seats behind them. Ah, now the infamous Marauders. Minus one that is mysteriously missing right now. But nonetheless, no one would dare split the four apart, knowing they are always together and always partnering in each class-

"Hey Remus," I greeted the sandy-haired boy cheerfully, plopping on the seat next to him. I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Remus gave me a surprised smile, seemingly not minding and I was sure as hell not going to ask. At least, he wasn't a total stranger. I was proud to say that every Sixth Year knew every Sixth Year within their house at least. And since I was on the Gryffindor team, I was known to him solely because of James Potter and Sirius Black, who were both players as well, the former even having been named Captain this year.

"Hey Cecily, how you doing?" Remus asked politely, settling himself down. His skin looked paler than usual upon closer inspection and he looked positively exhausted. I took out a bar of chocolate I always kept in the pockets of my robes (for emergencies only, of course!) and offered him some. "Good, and you?" I asked as he gratefully accepted without question. He was used to me randomly offering him some. "Fine, had a bit of a restless night, but should be better tomorrow," he said quietly, which went mostly unheard when one rowdy Sirius hollered from back, "Oi, aren't you gonna offer some to us as well?"

I glanced backwards at the two notorious troublemakers. "Um, no?" Sirius pouted and any ordinary girl would start to swoon at the sight. I'm ordinary, so I did. But years of practice taught me to only do it internally. And the amount of times I caught him with his tongue down another girl's throat was enough disgust to keep myself sane whilst resting my eyes on his unnatural beauty. I ain't kidding, really. He was handsome in ways that sometimes made me question whether he was a male-Veela. Those surely existed. Perfectly groomed, thick black hair, striking grey eyes, an annoyingly perfect nose and a jaw line that could cut someone in half. I am ashamed to admit there was a time where I would have gladly let him stomp on me if that would have made him acknowledge me.

I mean, come on, who hadn't had a crush on him, male and female? I was convinced, James did and was just trying to cover it with his constant profession of love towards one Lily Evans. I shall explain in a minute but let's first get through my most important description of the next Marauder, who was unfortunately now my Captain.

Unfortunate, because he already had been a nightmare in the last two years I had been on the team, constantly taking over the leader spot from the actual Captain to order us around, demanding more laps, longer practice hours until we were all bruised and frustrated enough to attempt a mutiny even though he wasn't even on charge. Imagine, how he was going to be now with the actual permission to order us around? I still have nightmares.

Besides that, he was probably also the leader of the little Marauder gang, a dumb name for their tight-knit group of friends. I couldn't deny though I was a bit envious of their friendship and I could imagine many others were, too.

Didn't change the fact that their gang name sounded stupid. Now, why I think James Potter is secretly crushing on his best mate (like every sane person would); I could hardly take his 'undying' love for Lily seriously, mainly because he had such ridiculous ways of professing his love for her that I doubted he was serious about it…or sirius. Heh. Anyways, he would probably be more believable if he weren't always so damn public about his declarations. That was also probably the reason why Lily was able to reject him all this time and call him an arrogant toe-rag in all her hateful rants. It didn't seem like she believed him.

Otherwise it would be hard to resist him for years. I mean, he was handsome, smart if he wanted to be and a pretty good Quidditch player. The whole package, really.

Merlin, I sounded like I had a crush on him, too. BUT. To be honest, everyone would have a crush on him as well as Sirius if he wasn't so 'devoted'.

I mentally slapped myself. At this rate, I would crush on Frank Longbottom's toad. "I seriously need a boyfriend," I muttered to myself.

"Hm, what was that?" Remus asked amused, chuckling quietly. Just then did I hear the complaints of the boys behind me.

"Are we air?"

"You siriusly going to ignore your Captain? That's ten extra laps this Thursday, Grant!"

I just remembered why I could keep my crushes under control. At least when it came to these two.

"Nothing," I muttered to Remus before turning over, raising an eyebrow at them, "What do you want?"

"Respect."

"Chocolate."

"Sorry, I have neither for you two," I said with a shrug, turning back over whilst they spluttered. It was easy handling them after years of practice together. Besides these interactions at class and on the Quidditch field, we had no other kind of connection, which was good for my heart.

But well, that would change quickly.

"Why is Remus always getting chocolate and we don't?" Sirius complained after class as I packed up the rest of the bar along with other stuff (such as the piece of parchment and quill I didn't use at all for this lesson). Rolling my eyes, I offered him some. "No, I don't want it anymore."

"Jeez, like a kid," I said loudly, "And for the record, I do it because Remus gives me his notes. Doesn't he?" I directed the question towards my seat partner with the most innocent smile. Remus Lupin with the gentle chuckle. He would probably be a heartthrob as well if it weren't for his quiet and introverted nature. In fact, all of the Marauders could be heartthrobs. Except Peter Pettigrew. Who was part of the gang for some reason. 'But even he is in a relationship right now,' I thought miserably, 'Probably off snogging his girlfriend and skipping class..'

"Of course I do," Remus answered, charming his notes to double and handing me the copy.

"Thanks, Remus!" I said cheerily, stuffing the notes into my bag before swinging it over and trudging past the protesting boys, "Hey, why don't we ever get your notes?!"

I ran to catch up with Marlene and Lily, who were already on their way to Herbology. "Hey girls, wait up!" They startled into a stop, "Oh, right. Sorry Cecily, we should have waited for you," Lily said sweetly and I grimaced. I was probably the Peter Pettigrew in our little friendship group.

Not that I could blame them. Lily and Marlene were both popular, extraordinary beauties and smart on top. I was the boring, ordinary looking and mediocre Peter that had nothing special to her name.

But that would change.

The days passed in a blur of classes, gossip and studying. The usual boring tirade, really. The only thing I looked forward to was food. And Quidditch.

So, imagine my elation when Thursday came up…and the sour mood I got in when James actually demanded those extra ten laps, apparently being good at holding a grudge. "Keep it up, Chaser No. 2!"

"Honestly, Potter," I huffed, coming to a stand in front of him, the only one still on the ground besides him as everyone was already up on their brooms.

"It's Captain, Chaser No. 2."

"Seriously? Chaser No. 2?"

"Well, there are three Chasers. I have to tell them apart."

"You have to tell them apart?" I snorted, "Potter, you know every player's name, family background, favourite team and player."

"True, and the Montrose Magpies still suck."

"They don't!"

"They do!"

"Still better than the Chudley Cannons!"

"Take that back!"

"Nope."

"Ten more laps."

I snorted again, mounting my broom. "As if."

"Grant, you get back down here this instant!"

"Who the hell is Grant? I'm Chaser No. 2," I yelled back, causing Sirius to bark a laugh as he heard. We started simulating a game with Team A against Team B for a while before mixing the players together. I rolled my eyes as Archie Stan knocked his shoulder against mine more roughly than necessary in an attempt to loosen my grip on the Quaffle. I wasn't born yesterday though, my grip tighter on the ball than a package of almond biscuits.

"Good, Chaser No. 2!" James shouted as I threw the Quaffle through the loop, whooping exaggerately, "Wooo -oof!" I clutched my broomstick to regain my balance as Stan knocked against me from behind this time, the air leaving my lungs for a second at the unexpected hit. "Watch it, Sideline-Chaser No. 3!"

"Not cool, bro!" Sirius and Frank booed, causing the Seventh Year boy to roll his eyes.

"Alright, everyone. Good game today," James called out, wrapping up the practice. We all cheered in relief, flying towards the ground to stretch and loosen up. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it!" Our captain stated cheekily, grinning broadly now that he left the Captain mode behind. The others grumbled under their breaths as we all made our way to the locker rooms. I rubbed my sore shoulder, the rough handling having left a bit of a mark. "You alright there, Grant?" James asked as I passed him by.

"Yeah, just sore."

"Stan is an idiot," James commented, looking after the boy in question, "He is still bitter about how you took over his spot on the A team."

"His fault that he sucks," I muttered, causing the messy-haired boy to chuckle. "He doesn't suck. You are just better than him."

"Wow, can't believe I'm hearing a compliment from the Captain that only knows how to motivate us with insults."

He winked, catching me off guard, "Don't get used to it." I stared for a second at his smirk, wondering how he could pull that off without seeming arrogant like Sirius. Maybe it had to do with his unruly hair that gave him somewhat of a boyish, innocent look or maybe the warmth in his almond eyes that would turn into pure amber if the sun hit him in the face…

'I'm thinking way too much about this,' I thought, shaking myself out of it with a mental slap.

"Evans!" he suddenly called out, causing me to flinch in surprise. His entire expression brightened tenfold as he spotted the red-head over my shoulder. I turned to see her trudging over along with Marlene and Alice Prewett, who was probably the sole reason why they were here in the first place as she always wanted to cheer for her boyfriend. "Glad to see you are here to support the Gryffindor team! Or did you just come to watch me in my natural element?"

"Neither, Potter. Quidditch is useless," Lily commented harshly, and I winced slightly at the sharp tone she had solely reserved for him, watching how James' ego deflated along with his puffed-out chest.

"Touché," he chuckled, almost choking on the word and I could practically see his inner battle between agreeing with the love of his life and defending his love for the game.

"Excuse me, Quidditch isn't useless!" I protested indignantly. Lily just rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she walked past us with the other girls, who simply gave me small smiles in passing. I huffed. I really needed friends that supported this game.

"One day…," James sighed blissfully, staring after them, "One day she will admit her love for me and we will be together forever."

I shifted slightly, "Yeaaahhhh."

He frowned, straightening up to his full height, "You don't think so?"

Lie. Lie. Say everything else but what you really think, "I think you are in love with Sirius and trying to cover it up."

I TOLD YOU TO-

"W-what?" James spluttered and I snapped my head over my shoulder, "Yep, I'm coming!" I called back to the owl that flew past us in that moment, swiftly turning to walk away, "Bye Potter!"

"Wait, hold up!" the dark-haired boy caught me by the hood of my uniform, successfully pulling me back and I grimaced, "What the bloody hell do you mean I'm in love with Padfoot?!"

"Who isn't?" the boy in question asked, coming up towards after the quickest shower ever. I facepalmed in embarrassment as he walked over, ruffling his still wet hair.

"I'm certainly not!" James exclaimed, shaking me slightly with his grip on my hood, "She thinks so!"

"Oh?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at me, smirking in amusement, "I thought you were talking about her being in love with me."

"You know you gonna catch a cold if you walk around with your hair wet in this weather," I pointed out, trying to change the subject. Not that I was actually in love with him but since I had a tiny crush and I was really bad at lying, I would probably blurt something out that would make them think I was.

"Don't change the subject. Why the hell do you think I'm in love with Padfoot?"

"Well, for one. You have a pet name for him," I pointed out.

"For Moony and Wormtail, too! And they call him that, too!"

"Maybe it's a group thing then," I said dismissively, trying to find a way out and finally hit the showers, crawl into my bed and die. The longest conversation with the two heartthrobs yet and it had to be about my thoughts on their relationships.

"It's not!" Both James and Sirius denied.

"Two negatives make one positive," I said with a grin.

"Well, I wouldn't hold it against any of the blokes if they were in love with me," Sirius stated, flipping his hair and placing a hand on James' shoulder, "You can tell me, I won't judge."

James shrugged him off, "Of course, I don't! I never did, I don't now and I'm never going to!" Then he paused, "You don't think anyone else thinks that?"

Sirius shrugged and shook his head simultaneously, "Why would they?"

"Yeah, why would they?" I agreed hastily, side-stepping discreetly in hopes of- "YOU think so? You tell me!" James demanded, blocking my way.

I sighed, "I was just kidding."

"You were not."

I frowned, "How do you know?"

James pinched his nose. "You don't think Evans thinks I'm in love with Padfoot, do you?"

Shrugging, I leaned against my broomstick with a sigh, realising that this would take longer than I would like to, "How would I know?"

"Because you are friends?"

"Yeah, but I don't always listen when they talk about boy stuff." Mainly because I didn't always want to feel the green eyed monster crawling up whenever they talked about their dates or relationships or even drama. I wish I had some drama to talk about.

"And why do you think I do?" James pressed.

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Love Padfoot!" James said loudly in exasperation, causing heads to turn as the other players slowly got out of the locker room, freshened up.

"Is that your way of matchmaking, James?" Frank called out teasingly, "Shouting at the victim to love your best mate?"

"Oi, what do you mean 'victim'?" Sirius shouted back as the others laughed around us. I went beet red.

"This conversation is over, Potter," I decided, side-stepping him swiftly to walk towards the locker rooms. The girls looked at me questioningly, but I just shook my head as I walked into the warm room, James hot on my heels.

"I'm serious, Grant. Why do you think I'm in love with Padfoot and not Evans? Does she think that? Is she doubting my love for her?" he fired one question after another as he followed me.

"Well, maybe," I replied to his last question as I placed broomstick against the wall next to the girls' changing rooms door, stopping with a hand on the handle, "I mean, it would explain why she hasn't agreed to go out with you after your countless times of asking her."

"How is asking someone out causing someone to doubt their love for them?" James asked incredulously as he proceeded to try and follow me inside the room.

"Off limits, Potter!" I said sternly with half a foot inside the room as he stood right in front of me.

"Captain here, Grant!" James retaliated, pushing me inside before half-closing the door to give me some privacy. I sighed, figuring that would be all I would get as I opened my locker. "Now, answer the question!"

"Well, maybe it's just the way you are handling your 'love' for her," I mused as I changed, knowing he wouldn't stop pestering me unless I satisfied his curiousity.

"What do you mean?"

"You are being overbearing about it. Obnoxious," I explained, grinning at his childish scoff, "I mean, I would have believed you at some point after all these years, but your affections seem kind of…superficial, given the fact that you never tried to actually get to know her."

"…How do you know all that? Did she tell you that?"

I blushed. "Y-yeah, probably." I was glad he couldn't see my red face from lying. It was still better than telling him that I was mindlessly obsessing over my friend's relationships and boy dramas since I had none myself. Sighing, I stuffed my Quidditch robes into my sack before throwing it over my shoulder and heading towards the door.

Unsurprisingly, James stood there still, an unusual thoughtful expression on his face. "So, you think I should get to know her more?"

"I think you should leave her alone."

"What? I can't-"

"I mean, everything you try at this point will be fruitless because Lily won't believe you like she hasn't all the years before," I explained patiently, "It would be smarter to just lean back and be civil for a while, give her space to breathe instead of giving her yet another reason to complain how much of an arrogant toe-rag you are."

James went quiet for a second and I wondered if I had imagined the slight flicker of hurt in his eyes at my words. "She really said that?" he asked softly and I mentally berated myself for throwing that in his face thoughtlessly.

"Maybe not with those words…," I tried to deny but he saw right through it, sighing heavily as he ran a hand through his air.

"…Be civil, eh?"

I nodded whilst simultaneously wondering how I had suddenly become a relationship counsellor for my Quidditch Captain. "Be civil."

Little did I know how this little conversation got the ball rolling towards the most unexpected direction.

Chapter One

[writingsofspn]

Innocent - Remus Lupin x Reader

Remus and Y/N are old friends and old lovers, turned astray. They meet again, both teaching at Hogwarts - and are reunited with an old friend.

Y/N = Your Name

This fic is gender neutral:)

————————

You knocked on Remus’s door lightly, expecting his voice to grant you access to his office so you could talk to him about what had been playing on your mind all week - all year, in fact.

‘Remus?’

There was no reply. You knocked a bit harder again and waited a few seconds before you slowly opened the door.

Chaos. As per usual.

A smile graced your lips looking at his messy, disorderly office. Everything had a place though, you knew that. You looked at his desk and saw a very familiar piece of parchment laying there. You audibly gasped. The parchement unlocked a memory you forgot you had. You moved forward and lightly brushed your hands across the worn face of the paper, your memory doing dances in your head. You took your wand from your pocket and said the all-too familiar words and the parchment lit up. Your eyes scanned the expanse of paper until you found the name you were looking for, and what you saw absolutely floored you.

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Together.

Your mouth opened and you rushed from the office, making your way to the willow as quickly as you could. You touched the knot and crawled through the tunnels you knew too well until you reached the shack, and listened out for voices. You could hear murmers from the closest bedroom and you snuck up to the door, careful not to any make noise. You peaked through the crack in the door and saw three of your students, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley - you rolled your eyes, always the three of them. There were two voices that distinctly belonged to two men who were once very important to you, one in particular.

You listened as Remus told the story of his time at Hogwarts, and about what headmaster Dumbledore had done for him during his time there. You thought about Hogwarts and the time you had there, along with Remus, Sirius, Peter and...James. You lowered your head, deciding to open the door and show yourself. The door creaked and all five heads turned your way. Sirius raised his wand quickly but lowered it as soon as he saw your face, a glimpse of a smile shadowing his face.

‘Y/N.’ He said so simply, yet so emotionally.

A surge of emotions you didn’t expect hit you with a full force, and you moved forward to embrace Sirius in a long-awaited hug. You caught Remus’s eye over Sirius’s shoulder and he gave you a kurt nod, his gentle eyes telling you everything you needed to know - Sirius was innocent.

———————

‘He’s innocent, Remus. I know it.’ You shouted, your hands throwing themselves around in exasperation.

‘Y/N please don’t take sides. I don’t want to believe it either, and I never thought anything like this would happen but it has and I can’t see any other explanation. We’re going to have to believe it, because how else would...he have found Lily and James?’ Remus replied, clearly upset. He was confused, even more so than you. Sirius was his closest friend, aside from James, and he didn’t know what to think.

‘What about Harry? What is he going to do now? We can’t leave him with Lily’s sister, she’s bloody awful. We need to take him in, Remus. We can’t leave him.’ You changed the subject, trying to take your mind off Remus’s incredible narrow-mindedness at Sirius.

‘Y/N, you know he’ll be better off with that family. They legally have rights to him, and we don’t. The only other person with legal rights to Harry is...Sirius.’ Remus reasoned, and this only infuriated you further.

‘For Merlin’s sake, Remus. How can you be so bloody narrow-minded? You KNOW it wasn’t Sirius who did this, I know you do. How could it be? Lily, James and Harry meant more to him than life itself. Could you just open yourself to the possibility it wasn’t him?’ You shouted, on the verge of crying. You got upset when you were angry, it was natural.

‘Y/N. It was Sirius. How could it be anyone else?’

He stunned you silent for moment. How could he believe your best friend, Sirius Black, would ever do such a thing as to betray you and your friends like this?

‘I know you don’t mean that, Rem. You’re just emotional. You can’t mean that.’ You shook your head.

He folded his arms and stared at his shoes.

‘I...I can’t be here if you’re going to think like that.’ You said, taking a few steps back from him. You took a deep breath in to try and stop your tears falling. Remus looked angry, and he looked down and brushed a hand down his face.

‘Then go.’

Those three words hit you like a truck. You swayed on the spot, dumbfounded. You stared at each other for a few moments, but it felt like hours. Flashes of the morning sun spread across your entwined hands, laughs as you twirled round the common room to cheesy music he’d found at the second-hand shop and kisses stolen behind closed doors and when no one was looking crossed your mind. You felt as if the wind had been knocked from your chest, and a seething rage filled it instead. He moved towards you, seemingly sympathetic.

Fuck.

You moved away from him sharply and marched upstairs, throwing as many of your belongings you could find into a bag. Remus didn’t attempt to stop you, but simply waited at the top of the stairs until you were satisfied you had everything you needed. You pushed past him in a blurry, enraged manor. You heard him follow you down the stairs, and stop when he saw your hand hovering over the doorknob.

‘Y/N, we can fix...’

‘Come back to me when you realise the truth.’ You flung the door open and slammed it behind you. He made no attempt to follow you, and you cried as you made your way further down the street, hearing no noise behind you.

That was the last time you saw him, until he turned up at Hogwarts at the beginning of the year, well over a decade later.

————————

‘Sirius. I never believed it was you. Please. I tried. I really tried to prove it wasn’t you. Please believe me.’ You muttered into his shoulder, holding your old friend tight.

‘It’s okay Y/N, Remus has told me what you have done. It’s okay.’ He said softly, moving away and running a finger across your cheek.

‘You’re in on this too?’ Harry croaked, turning to look at Ron and Hermione; a look of shock across all three of their faces.

‘Harry, let us explain. Please.’

You told him everything that had happened. About your time at Hogwarts with his mother and father, and about the consequences of that fateful night at Godric’s Hollow. Sirius interjected at points with his thoughts, as did Remus. Finally, you moved to Peter.

‘But what’s my rat got to do with anything?’ Ron said rather agitatedly, said rat squealing and writhing in his hands.

‘Because Ron, your rat is not a rat. He is a human, and a wizard. And he goes by the name Peter Pettigrew.’ Remus said gently, pointing to the rat.

After some heavy convincing, Ron gave the rat over and you performed a spell to return Peter to his snivelling human form and get what he deserved.

————————

You sat inside the castle, watching the night sky move along from your office with the old window wide open as you let the smell of the summer night drift through. You cast an eye to the moon, a familiar movement that had become habit over the years. You watched the tiny sliver of the moon cast it’s bright light over the grounds of the school, and your mind became encompassed with the events of the previous night. Harry and Hermione had told Remus and yourself what they had done, about the timeturner and letting Sirius go. To say you were relieved was an understatement, but anger and guilt still hung over you as you thought about Peter Pettigrew still walking free while Sirius was forced into hiding.

‘It’s a fine night, is it not?’

Remus spoke behind you. You jumped slightly, not having heard him enter. You looked in his direction, taking in the man you’d missed so dearly. He looked tired and worn down, much older since the last time you’d seen him. His clothes were worn, and you noticed new scars littered across his face and neck. Your heart ached still, even after what had happened. You remained silent and stared at the floor, not really sure what to say.

‘Are you alright?’ You decided to ask. You’d been apart for many years, but your concern for the man you still loved remained ever-present.

‘I’m just glad no one was hurt.’ He replied sullenly. You watched as he shuffled his feet, crossing his arms and looking everywhere but where you sat. A few moments passed, the silence engulfing the both of you to the point it became unbearable.

‘Did you want anything, Rem?’ You winced at the nickname that hadn’t left your mouth in years. You felt guilt after you said that, feeling as though you came across cold. You didn’t want that, in fact you wanted anything but that. You got up and moved to the front of your desk, perching on the top and crossing your ankles and keeping your eyes firmly trained on the floor. You’d faltered, not knowing whether to excuse yourself or remain silent. However, he decided for you.

‘I wanted to say that I’m sorry.’

You froze, not expecting those words to hit your ears. You remained staring at the floor, not really knowing where to start. You saw his feet move closer and you lifted your head to look at him.

‘Don’t be sorry, you didn’t have any control over what happened last night-’ You started, but was soon interrupted.

‘I didn’t mean last night, Y/N. I meant I’m sorry for what happened since the moment you walked out of our door 14 years ago.’ He put a hand on your desk, fingers inches away from touching yours.

‘Oh.’

‘What happened 14 years ago was perhaps the moment I’ve regretted most in my life. I let what we had go because I couldn’t see past my own mind at the possibilities. You have no idea how many times I’ve written letters to you and summoned an owl, only to throw it away; especially when I heard you had started teaching at the school.’ He recoiled his hand, putting both into his pockets as he spoke, doing that thing he’s always done when he’s nervous.

You watched him for a few seconds, biting the skin on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say. In that moment, it all became so clear. You’d lost 14 years with the man you’d loved most because you’d both been so stubborn minded and stupid.

‘I’m sorry I left, Remus. I’m sorry I never wrote to you, or came to find you. I’m sorry I left.’ You blurted, your tongue seemingly taking over for you. Your cheeks went red, and you sat up a bit straighter in anticipation of his reaction. However, he remained still and silent. You carefully studied his face, looking for a hint of how he was feeling. He lifted his eyes and a warm smile spread across his worn face. You moved forward and put your arms around his shoulders and hands behind his head, fingers weaving into the greying hair at his neck. His arms encircled your waist and you felt him inhale deeply. You shut eyes momentarily, taking in a feeling you hadn’t felt for a long time - love. True, innocent, desperate love.

You pulled away first, looking at his face and tracing your finger gently across the new scars you’d never seen before. He stopped your hand, taking it in his and pressing a small kiss to your palm. You made eye contact and in that moment, you knew you had him back - and this time, you weren’t letting him go.

[padfootastic]

with how much harry praised sirius , he is james son for sure lol. sirius was their favorite and they were his favorite people.

the way this made me snort 💀

(i’ve always said that sirius had three generations of potters wrapped around his finger)

(and if, like me, u envision a future where he comes back from the veil, then u know his grandkids would be similarly attached to him)

but also. picture this.

harry: *constantly praises sirius* *defends him* *never fails to make it known how attractive he is*

james, in the afterlife: *wiping a tear* that’s my boy 😤 you tell them, honey.

[narukoibito]

St. Mungos, since feeling is first who pays attention and Muggle FWB for the WIP Game?

Thank you for the interest, Anon! This took a while because things in my personal life are in chaos, but thank you for the request.

St. Mungos

This is my Healer!Ginny story that has been lurking in the back of my brain since last year. I’ve written a good amount of words, but then an entirely different plot appeared and now I may have to rewrite most of it, hence it’s lack of progress. But I still really want to finish this one day.

Ginny is a Healer on the 4th floor of St. Mungos. Her first patient is someone named Harry Evans. (This is a Harry never to Hogwarts story.)

The first thing Ginny notices is his eyes. They’re the most vivid, bright green that she’s ever seen. It’s unnerving how unseeing they are. A pressure builds up in her chest, an aching pain and nostalgia she can’t place.

The morning light from the window washes over his face, dancing off these round wire-rimmed glasses. His dark hair (black like a blackboard) appears to be on some ineffable scale of entropy — tousled and pointed in every which way, yet somehow it’s charming and works well with his sharp, unconventional features. Some of that hair spills over a bandage wrapped around his forehead. 

But it’s also the pleasant, vacancy in those eyes that strikes her, like she’s looking at the embers of a once bright flame. He looks like an innocent, half-lost child, his lips curled in a ghost of a smile.

Her clipboard and supervisor tell her his name is Harry Evans. The name creates an itch at the back of her head, something she wants to scratch at, but the odd sense of nostalgia must be misplaced significance. He’s her first real patient. 

He must matter to someone important to have his own room on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s Ward 49. Usually they lumped all the long-term spell damaged patients in one place, let them wander under the supervision of one Healer. But this room is spacious and private, protected by complicated wards and concealing charms. Someone really cares about Harry Evans, and for some reason it causes a subtle burning behind her eyes. Maybe it’s because he looks like a newborn fawn. 

Who wouldn’t want to protect him?

“You’re new, but he’s not difficult. It’s mostly maintenance,” her supervisor says. “He makes it easy, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry’s gaze drifts toward the window.

Ginny scans his file. It’s actually surprisingly thick, but a lot of it has been redacted. The summary page sums it up though: he’s twenty-one; he has been here for three years; the diagnosis is vague (severe curse damage); there’s a long slew of attempted cures, none of which were successful obviously; now it’s about making sure he’s comfortable whatever that means.

“All right, let me know if run into any trouble.” Her supervisor is already starting for the door.

“Um — what about — I know his treatment is maintenance, but can I…?” Ginny’s not sure what she’s trying to say exactly. Harry Evans has seen a lot of Healers if the list of attempted cures is any indication, but she gave up Quidditch to become a Healer in the long-term spell damage ward specifically because she wanted to do something.

Her supervisor gives her a rueful smile. 

“Stick to maintenance. Harry Evans is a special case.”

Ginny turns back to Harry, who is facing her again, looking painfully innocent.

Somehow she doesn’t need convincing that he’s special.

since feeling is first who pays attention

This was a gift for the Harry/Ginny Discord Incognito Elf exchange. I managed to finish in time to gift it, but I want to take some additional time to rework it before posting. It is missed moments over the years as Ginny and her feelings for Harry evolve.

Ginny presses her face against the wall, peeking between the stair spindles. Her bright brown eye lands on the two boys hunched over a chessboard. Her brother Ron and Harry Potter, who, despite appearing to be losing, doesn’t look the least upset.

Harry Potter. 

The Harry Potter is in her house. Looking comfortable on their couch despite the faded, mended cushions. His face crinkles in laughter at something Ron says, his green eyes bright with contentment. Ginny doesn’t miss the occasional look of awe at the things she’s always taken for granted. It’s almost as if he can’t believe he is really here.

He isn’t what she expected – isn’t what she imagined he would look like after all those years listening to Mum recite her favorite bedside story, about the heroic Savior of the Wizarding World. She had pictured neat hair, a dashing smile, someone who would recognize a comrade in her and take her on all sorts of adventures. He would be different, he wouldn’t discount her dreams of flying and doing everything her brothers could and more.

Instead, Harry Potter has the messiest hair ever, a sheepish smile, and clothes that he nearly swims in. Oh, and he has somehow missed the memo and found the comrade in her brother Ron instead. 

Her fingers curl around the spindle. Not for the first time, a spike of envy shoots through her. If only she were a little older or a boy. Then maybe she would be the one playing chess with Harry. Maybe she would be the one to hide under his invisibility cloak and battle trolls and face You-Know-Who with him.

Ginny presses her face a little closer and lets out a sigh.

But Harry Potter is kind. He ignores all the times she has made a fool of herself. And he has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. They are as green as those glowing jars of pickled toads at the Potion ingredients store Mum had taken her to. Pretty and kind and not dismissive of her patched clothes or her glowing red face.

Harry Potter. If he likes Ron, if he looks like he actually likes the Burrow, if his face grimaces at the attention at Flourish and Blotts, could it be possible that one day he could like her too?

Muggle FWB

Hah, so this was the first idea that I rambled off to my beta, which ended up with long, long emails back and forth on this idea that I never wrote! Here’s a snippet of that exchange:

Harry thinks he only see Ginny as a little sister, so when she suddenly proposes that they become friends with benefits in uni, he’s floored and says they’re practically family. Blinded by her anger over the rejection, she kisses him so that he knows what he’ll be missing. Of course, he then realizes his attraction to her. As their physical relationship progresses, they develop feeeeeeelings (gasp!). But Ginny thinks she only wants a physical relationship and once they have sex, it'll get out of her system. Harry has to work to convince her that she actually wants more.

But the backdrop is that Ginny doesn't think she wants more than sex is that when she was 11, she was kidnapped by Tom Riddle for as a kid (they met at the park a lot, and none of her brothers/Harry/anyone realized he'd been "befriending" her). Kid Harry figures out where Riddle took her and saves her.

Ginny wasn’t molested but she/Harry/everyone else is deeply affected by this event even though they don't realize it. Ginny thinks she's overcome it, and she's still a BAMF some the books but she's not fully over it as shown by her fear of being emotionally involved with Harry. It's why Harry refuses for a long time to think of her anything else outside of a brotherly way. 

Ginny has a really bad sexual experience (though it doesn't go all the way), and as a result she's disgusted by men (not scared), but doesn't feel any revulsion with Harry. After not being able to get close to any boy for a long time, she decides to proposition Harry. Harry, being noble, absolutely refuses at first, but she kisses him, he's very attracted to her, and is convinced by her that he's helping her get over this tick. So it's FWB but it fits their personalities, and still stays true to the Ginny is subconsciously afraid of a real relationship/intimacy with Harry, who realizes he wants more but doesn't know if just getting to be physical is more than he'll ever deserve and he wants what he can get if not real love from her - until, of course, he realizes he can't do it anymore and she has to decide if she's brave enough to actually let herself feel.

HAHA omg I’m reading over my emails and I talk about getting into The Changeling and only sleeping 4/5 hrs a night and then the exchange ends with my coming up with my alternate dimension idea of Harry getting thrown into the BWL!Neville universe. So you guys can see why this story never went anywhere despite several thousands words between me and my beta.

–

Whew, long post. Hope that satisfied your curiosity! 

I’m honestly not sure there are any left, but let me know if you have any other wip asks! Though note that I will be rather absent in the near-future because of life.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I read your headcanons about James Potter and I’m really interested to hear your thoughts Sirius and regulus Black pls pls pls

Oh no.

Alright, strap in people, because I’m about to say some things that nobody will like.

Let’s start in alphabetical order with Regulus. 

Fandom often sees Regulus as a reformed Death Eater, the redeemed villain, or else a cooler suaver version of Sirius steeped in pure blood culture, making him more palatable than many pureblood characters as a love interest. There’s a lot of fics of him having almost defeated Voldemort, coming back from the dead and actually defeating Voldemort, reconnecting with Sirius, showing Harry the cool pureblood ways without being racist, etc.

Well, I don’t really buy into any of that.

I think, even with his defection, Regulus was likely still a very racist character and never really disavowed the cause. True, he was young when he was sucked in, he had his whole family meltdown when Sirius was disowned and suddenly he was heir, but I do think he really did believe in blood purism and nothing from the books suggests that he died not believing in it. He just stopped believing in Voldemort.

Instead, I believe he discovered that Voldemort a) did not mean anything good for his culture and b) Voldemort was a fraud.

What do I mean by that?

Well, in the first case, I’ve always viewed Tom Riddle in that period in time as a hate filled nihilist who doesn’t really believe in what he preaches. It’s just convenient to him as the purebloods are the ones with the money and the power. There’s no point in him appealing to Dumbledore’s ilk as they’re far less likely to be able to make him king (also it would mean putting up with Dumbledore and his stupid speeches about love and friendship). Most of Voldemort’s actions throughout the books don’t make the muggle borns’ lives miserable (at least not until he gets into power) but makes hell of the purebloods’ lives and absolutely ruins them. 

The Black family, in particular, he essentially wipes off the face of the Earth. 

With that in mind, I imagine a young Regulus eventually came to realize that Voldemort was systematically destroying the great families from the inside to put himself in power. It was never about the muggleborns or the country, it was only ever about power.

Then we get to the other bit, Voldemort being a fraud. Unlike many, I believe the Death Eaters had no idea who Voldemort was. It’s too unbelievable to me that some guy named Tom Riddle, who their fathers all went to school with, who everyone knew as a muggle born impoverished orphan, could convince them all that he was the next Merlin who they should devote their lives (and their money) to. Tom’s charismatic, but he’s not that charismatic. Better for Tom Riddle to just disappear entirely and show up as the Count of Monte Cristo, descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, impressing all the young heirs while their young, angry, and stupid. 

With Regulus finding out that his great leader is actually just the halfblood son of a squib, the whole movement falls apart. Regulus is a pawn, fighting for nothing he believes in. Now, that said, I don’t think Regulus ever figured out who exactly, Tom was. He clearly knew the name, as we see from the locket, but just knowing that Riddle is a muggle last name would be enough to know that Voldemort was nothing he presented as.

Basically, Regulus becomes extremely disillusioned with the Death Eaters and Voldemort in a few short years. The change he wanted to see sweeping the country doesn’t happen. Instead the violence, which he was initially very excited for (guys, Regulus did join a domestic terrorist organization and I will not cut him slack for that, he was excited to blow up some muggle borns) is pointless and hurting their own people as opposed to the muggle borns. 

During all of this we have Kreacher borrowed by Voldemort for the creepy horcrux placement. This certainly makes Regulus go “hm” and he’s clever enough to put together on his own that the locket must be a horcrux.

That said, I do not believe he knew enough about Tom Riddle to have been able to hunt down the rest or even know where or what they would be. Dumbledore had been paranoidly collecting memories of Tom Riddle’s entire goddamn life and relying on the plot convenient aspect that Tom was apparently so much of a romantic he never left his horcruxes anywhere but Britain and always left them in very noticeable sentimental objects. Regulus knew about the locket because of Kreacher, had he lived, he’d have no idea where the hell else to start.

So that’s Regulus for you, a fairly intelligent, yet youthfully stupid, extremist whose dream did not live up to the reality and probably still would have spat in Hermione’s face had the gang resurrected him from being a lake zombie.

As for Sirius, well, he’s James the asshole times a thousand to the point where he makes some “ha ha, very funny, but actually really this is horrifying” decisions. 

I guess we’ll start back when he’s young.

We don’t see much of the young Sirius, and granted, what we do directly is given to us by a very bitter, resentful, and biased Severus Snape but his actions still read a lot like pretty much any Stephen King bully villain. The scene where they’re tormenting Snape (and Snape drops the slur, Lily abandoning him) is horrifying to read. And it’s clearly one of many moments over many years of this group of boys sexually harassing him (and yes, that was sexual harassment guys, let’s not pull out stops here).

Then we get to the joke with Lupin that... really wasn’t a joke.

The flimsy excuse we’re given in canon is that a) it was all in good fun b) Snape was so much of a coward he’d never actually go to the Shrieking Shack because he’s a big chicken. Bawk bawk bawk, Snivellus the chicken. But, well, these excuses are flimsy. 

When you get down to the bare bones of it what Sirius did there was attempted murder via his chronically ill best friend. It’s one of those actions that I simply cannot justify, even had Sirius not thought it all the way through, as boys will be boys. What was the good outcome there? Snape sees Lupin and shrieks in terror? (Only to probably run to some authority and try to get the uncontrolled werewolf the fuck off of campus, nice going Sirius) Snape gets infected with lycanthropy? Snape dies, Lupin wakes up covered in blood with the horror of knowing he ate a classmate? 

Later, we do get Sirius sort of apologizing for his behavior. But it’s at best a ‘sort of’ apology. He never admits the full horror of what he did, just how relentlessly brutal he was to Snape, or what the werewolf thing really would have ended in. Instead he goes, “yeah, James and I were kind of assholes. He grew up though, Lily married him so he couldn’t be an ass anymore! And it was Snape, Come on, Harry, it was Snape.” And Harry, messed up asshole that he himself is goes, “Yeah, it was Snape! Stupid Snape!”

I also never got the feeling he ever fully apologized to Remus. Sirius used Remus in the worst of ways, made it clear he had no respect for Remus and no compassion for his condition, and continues to treat him as a sort of secondary friend to James. I think it says a lot that Remus was able and willing to believe Sirius was guilty of murdering James and Lily in cold blood. 

Which probably gives you a hint that I think Remus/Sirius would never happen except in the most toxic of ways possible.

Basically, in a fair world, Sirius should have been expelled if not tried for the werewolf incident. However, Dumbledore plays favorites and chose the sons of two lords as opposed to the poor half blood (which I imagine cemented Snape’s path to becoming a Death Eater). And so there is some cruel irony in that Sirius was eventually jailed for something, even though it was something he didn’t do.

Now, after Azkaban, Sirius seems to have mellowed out a lot. While he’s a bit unhinged and thoughtless (his rescue attempt of Harry’s rescue attempt at the end of Order of the Phoenix) a lot of this can be seen as after effects of his stay in literally hell on Earth for over ten years. 

That said, a lot of people see him as the cool uncle character who, if Harry had been able to live with him, all would have been well. I firmly disagree. Young Sirius was, well, god knows how warped Harry would have been growing up with a young and reckless Sirius Black. After prison he’s in no condition to take care of Harry, and even says as much multiple times. Sirius is cool to hang around at a distance, but up close and personal he’d be very messed up and not at all ready to be a father to a teenage boy. 

Otherwise, Sirius was very very very gay for James Potter. Unfortunately for him, James Potter was straight and into Lily Evans. I’m sure it was a very sad day for Sirius when Lily actually said yes to James. Except not really, because James always strikes me as a “bros before hos” kind of dude. Not that I’m sure if Sirius ever admitted he was gay and in love with James, I’ve always been of the belief that pureblood culture is extremely homophobic and it just... wouldn’t come up. 

So there it is, now excuse me while I go hide behind this barrier before I get eaten alive.

[piercetheigncrance]

“Perhaps now that we’re free”

Snucissa - with focus on Snucius

Set in the aftermath of the war. Snape dies. Or at least he is gone from the mortal world for a period of time. Lucius takes it upon himself to remain by Snape’s bedside until Snape wakes up. Together, Lucius and Narcissa help Snape heal from the would-be fatal injury.

Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 1. (~1750 words)

Darkness. He thought he would feel peace or at least something less daunting than this. But he’d been sorely mistaken. Even now, while staring at eternal nothingness, he swore he could feel the deepest, tethers of the abyss moving in on him and bringing with them dread and grief. He was certain he could feel the unforgiving tendrils of despair slithering closer to him and encircling his limbs then his body, and eventually they would take what was left of his soul. Perhaps then he could have a moment of solace, a reprieve from the guilt and the pain — oh the pain.

And so he lie there, willing the avaricious void to take him quickly, willing fate to have mercy on him for once. Mercy. It was likely more than he deserved but he was done. He’d served his purpose. Surely now he’d earned some damned peace.

Yet, it would seem the unknown had different plans for him.

Pain — sharp and sudden — disrupted the almost tranquil state he was in. Severus’ heart pumped violently, no doubt due to some intervention on the outside. Then he tasted the bitter tang of metal on his tongue but somewhere under that he tasted the faintest hint of herbs. How he longed for nothingness now. And the void called to him. Severus was drawn to the promise of nothingness once more, drawn to the promise of some form of certainty.

Please. Don’t go. You s-selfish bastard. You cannot leave me here!

Was that? — surely not. He was hallucinating. Nothing but another malicious trick from the universe, a way for the world to try and ensnare him into living more miserable years on this earth. He wouldn’t have it. Severus plunged himself closer to the darkness, begging, pleading for the abyss to swallow him whole and leave nothing behind for the mortal world to reach.

His wish was granted.

For how long, he couldn’t say. But time didn’t matter here. Nothing did. Not pain, not loss, not remorse, and surely not Severus Snape.

Eventually, the darkness receded, slowly being coaxed back by some inexplicable force. No! Don’t! Take me with you. Severus begged the void. But it did not yield to his wishes this time.

The pain returned. This time with an emptiness in his core, as if his entrails had been scooped out and fed to the buzzards. He groaned, or perhaps he merely thought he did. He felt heavy and light at the same time; his mind attempting to come to terms with being in something corporeal once more. It was too much and not enough in equal parts. Merlin how he craved the emptiness again.

S-Severus?

There it was again. The voice. The one that’d called to him before the void welcomed him into its arms.

Severus, you’ve come back to me.

A new ache blossomed inside him. Something he couldn’t quite explain. It was subtle but it hurt just the same. It felt as if a hand was wringing his heart. His facial muscles were still confused on how to operate properly so all he managed was a twitch of his brow, eyes searching even behind closed lids for — him.

“You can hear me.”

That time he was certain he’d heard it, not just felt it inside him. There was a hope in the statement but it was almost drowned out by fear. As if Lucius had hoped too many times before to allow it to consume him this time around.

“Please, don’t go again. I know. I know you’re scared. I am too. Merlin, Severus, I need you here.” Lucius could hear the almost fanatic edge to his voice, knowing that the only person outside of his dragon and his wife he would allow himself to express these things for was Severus.

Quicker movement behind his lids, both eyebrows twitching now and lip curving slightly. Pain came again and this time Severus did make a noise, a soft croak of a thing.

“Severus!” Lucius cried. There was absolutely no stopping the relieved and joyous tears that slid down his porcelain cheeks. He lunged forward, cradling Severus’ cheek with his hand. “I’m here, my Prince. I’m here.”

This time, Severus made a small grunt of a noise, an acknowledgement (and a bit of an embarrassed response) to the pet name. Lucius’ hand felt cool against his too hot skin, almost felt like a wonderful healing salve. He felt something warm and wet land on his face and he flinched at the sudden feeling but as it continued, Severus realized they were tears. Merlin. Who else would have wept for him save this man? Cissa, perhaps but not this openly.

Slowly, eyes fluttered open and Severus regretted it almost instantly. He made that croak-like noise again and shut his eyes. It was far too bright all at once.

“Ah..” Lucius called for one of the elves, “darken the room up, you, now. Severus cannot handle the light. And ask Narcissa to call for the nurse then for her to come greet our Severus.”

Our. Even after the years of hearing it, it seemed unreal. Severus feared he’d open his eyes again only to find he’d been swallowed by the void again. He grunted once more, turning as much as he could into Lucius’ hand at his cheek.

“Severus, I know you cannot speak yet but just know we’ve missed you. The months. They’ve not been easy. Draco and Potter... they barely managed to keep me from Azkaban. And you, comatose during all that? I thought I would be locked away and never lay my eyes on your again. It was horrible, Severus. But... you’re here as am I and —“

“As am I..”

The lilting voice, gentle even with the roughness of what Severus could only assume was due to tears, interrupted Lucius’ smooth cadence. That ache was back in his heart and he grunted once more, slowly peeling his eyelids apart. When he realized it was no longer blindingly bright, he opened his eyes again. The sight that greeted him was one he’d never forget. Lucius’ platinum hair was an unkempt curtain, framing his sharp and gorgeous features. Narcissa’s two-toned hair queued up and showing off her striking beauty. Both of their expressions held relief and love — a love so pure he didn’t know what to do with it. He turned further into Lucius’ hand, barely aware of the tear that’d escaped his eye.

Lucius wiped the tear with his free hand, action gentle and loving. Merlin he’d missed him. “Severus, look at me,” he waited a couple of seconds, giving Severus the time to push past whatever was holding him back, then smiled at him, “I knew you would come back to me. I love you, My Prince.” He swallowed, staring at Severus with unfettered affection, letting the man see everything he felt for him — even opening his mind to him if Severus had the energy and ability to look inside at the moment.

Severus felt more tears sliding down his cheek. It wasn’t as many as Lucius had shed, not by a long shot, but it was more than he’d allowed himself to cry in decades. And as he held Lucius’ gaze, he saw the shift behind his eyes, the lack of cold in his gaze — he’d let down his barriers. Severus stared, and stared some more, allowing himself one small peek (really all he could manage with a wand-less legilimens anyway) into Lucius’ thoughts. He saw everything. Light. Darkness. Fear. Love. Strength. Respect. Humility. That last one surprised him, pulling him out of Lucius’ mind and back to reality. He grunted once more, eyes searching Lucius’ until Lucius leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Severus closed his eyes.

“That, My dearest Prince, is because I’ve come to realize, without you, I am nothing.”

The words were uttered right against his skin, seemingly seeping right into his mind and then into the deepest recesses of his soul. He made a small noise, unsure what he would have said if he could. But that didn’t seem to matter anyway.

Narcissa watched, relieved for more than one reason Severus was back amongst the world of the living. Lucius would no longer be a shell of the man he was. He might recover from the atrocities of the war. Severus’ life had not been cruelly cut short and he might finally accept a life with them. And she? She might open up even more to both of them now that she needn’t worry about keeping her dragon safe at the cost of all other relationships.

Lucius pulled back from Severus when he felt the shift in the wards alerting them to floo travel. He whispered another ‘I love you.’ to Severus then stood up, composing himself as much as possible now that there was an outsider in his home. He even pulled his wand out and cast quick cleaning charms on himself and his hair. Presentable enough.

“Is it true?” Evanora rushed into the room, accompanied by one of the elves, and went straight to Severus’ bedside. “When did this happen?” She began her examination of him, being careful not to jostle him too much. Severus was thinner but they’d been taking excellent care of him so his body was in the best shape possible, all things considered.

“But two minutes before Narcissa called for you.”

Narcissa stepped closer to the bed too, now that Lucius had his moment, she wanted to touch Severus too. Dainty fingers caressed his jaw then trailed up to his hooked nose. He was gorgeous. With all his flaws, he was stunning and she only pulled her hand away when Evanora gestured for her to get out of the way. She went to stand next to Lucius, fingers sliding against his waiting palm.

“This is... incredible.” Evanora cast a few more charms, watching Severus for reactions and looking to the Malfoys, “has he consumed anything since he’s been awake?”

Severus made a grunting noise. He always hated being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. Gaze hard and cold now as he looked at the nurse, one of the best if he remembered correctly — then again, the Malfoys wouldn’t have it any other way.

“My apologies. Have you had a potion or water?”

Lucius smirked despite himself, wanting to laugh at the fact that Severus was already feeling enough like himself to scowl at people. “He has not, we did not want to risk it. It was why I called for you,” Lucius took the liberty of answering for Severus.

Severus cut Lucius a grateful look before going back to just staring at Evanora. He stayed still as possible as the exam was completed. It took longer than Lucius wanted, he could tell because the wizard kept fidgeting and huffing under his breath. Malfoy senior was never very patient. He gave a partial smile at the thought.

Narcissa kept her hands clasped together, cerulean orbs fixed on the proceedings as if to ensure the mediwitch would not dare hurt their Severus. She let out a soft breath once Evanora finally stepped away and went to her briefcase.

Evanora set out a couple vials of potions on the nightstand along with some tea ingredients then turned to Malfoy senior. She handed him a piece of parchment. “Give it some time. I have provided one vial of girding potion, one of invigorating draught, one sleeping draught, and a draught of peace. I trust you can make more of these if necessary and have the skills to make the other healing potions shall you need them. I would abstain from giving him dreamless sleep just yet as he was, for all intents and purposes, dead for some time. If he is having trouble adjusting, please provide sleeping draughts or calming draughts. He will need time to move on to solid foods. For now, a diet of water, teas, and puréed foods if he can stomach them. Exercise is to start after he is able to sit up on his own. No sooner. I will stop by in a week to check his progress.” She gave one final look to Severus and nodded at him, smiling as if they were old friends, “it is wonderful to see you awake, Mr. Snape. I hope the recovery comes more smoothly. Good day,” she showed herself to the door, an elf appearing to escort her back to the den right on cue.

Lucius let out a deep breath, smiling as he brought Narcissa’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. They both moved closer to Severus then, taking a seat at the edge of the bed to watch over him.

Severus, for his part, was already exhausted. He blinked slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Sleep, My Prince. We’ll be here when you wake.”

~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m not sure if I will continue this on here or on AO3. Either way, I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! Feel free to leave comments/concerns. Thank you!

[ziezie13]

So I watched The Mummy for the first time last night and I am appalled that there is only one Drarry Mummy AU. The thing practically writes itself. Rick O'Connell = Harry Potter, Evelyn Carnahan = Draco Malfoy.

After the war, Draco was exiled either officially or socially and has taken up residence in Alexandria, Egypt where he works as a librarian, restocking the ancient library that had been lost. Over the years he has also become the foremost experts in dead languages. But he never wins any grants for his research because of the bias around his ex-death eater status. One day an artifact comes across his desk, a strange puzzle box. Draco solves the thing over evening tea, of course (also he has reading glasses now because that is hot). Inside is a map to Hamunaptra, the ancient Egyptian city of the dead that has become no more than legend and most people believe never existed. Draco is ecstatic because the last recorded location of the Book of Amun-Ra and most myth is founded in reality as he knows. He takes the map to his boss who laughs in his face and accidentally burns off a piece of the map with a badly placed candle. Draco asks where the puzzle box came from and someone tells him it was confiscated from some treasure hunter at the local prison. Draco goes to the prison only to find Harry bloody Potter in chains and looking very disheveled.

Potter's hair is long and greasy, he had a matted beard, covered in dirt and grim, and wearing rags. But Draco would recognize those bright green eyes anywhere. Potter does not seem to be as surprised to see Draco as Draco is to see him which frustrates him to no end. Turns out Potter dropped out of the Auror program years ago and has been working as a freelance curse breaker in the Egyptian desert ever since. He landed his ass in prison after a drunken bar fight where he was arrested with multiple legal magical artifacts. After composing himself, Draco asks Potter about the puzzle box.

"You want to know about Hamunaptra." A statement not a question.

"How did you know the box was connected to Hamunaptra?"

"Because that is where I found it."

"You've been to Hamunaptra."

"Yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

Potter's smile fades immediately at those words. "I don't lie, Malfoy. Besides, you have the proof in your hands."

Draco weighs Potter’s words and shows him the damaged map. "Could you complete this?"

Harry studies the map for a few seconds. "No."

Draco wilts.

"But I could take you there. If you can get me out."

The next day after a few well placed bribes Draco picks Potter up from the prison. "So what first?"

"First I need a shower and a shave."

They go to Draco’s flat where Potter cleans himself up. He emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and fuck Potter has absolutely no right to look like that. His skin has a bronze hue, golden from the sun, and there are just so many muscles. His facial hair has been trimmed to a sexy scruff and his long hair is now clean and dripping wet. Draco follows the path of a drop as it drips down Potter’s chest and disappears into the towel.

"I don't suppose you have any clothes that might fit?"

Draco gives Potter a shirt and trousers. Potter pulls his hair into a messy bun. The trousers are too long, so Potter rolls them up a bit. Both the trousers and shirt fit snugly in more that a few places. Draco knows a charm that would fix that but decides to keep it to himself.

"Why are you so set on getting to Hamunaptra? Need some more dark artifacts to round out your collection?"

Draco frowned. "If you must know I am searching for the Book of Amun-Ra so that I can return it to the Library."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that the book is made of solid gold."

"You know your history, Potter?"

"I know my treasure."

They then go into town to get supplies and transport. Turns out there is a group of Americans also headed for Hamunaptra and they have a guide who also claims to have been there before. And so the race is on. The city is magicaly protected so they can't apperate or use a portkey. They will get as close as they can using the river then ride camels the rest of the way. What they don't know is that there is a secret society that has protected Hamunaptra from outsiders for centuries. On their first night on the boat they are attacked. A masked figure tries to steal the map and the puzzle box. Draco and Potter jump overboard and escape but they lose the map. Doesn't matter though, because Potter assures Draco he knows the way. Their clothes and supplies are still on the ship though and Draco is in pajamas. They find a local market and Potter pays for some new clothes for Draco and a couple of camels. They set off for Hamunaptra and arrive at the exact same time as the Americans. They wait for the sunrise to reveal the ancient city and ride in. They set up separate camps and dig sites. Draco uses his expert knowledge to find them a prime location. That night the masked riders return and attack both camps. They warn both parties that they have one day to leave or they will die. Draco gets drunk and has a heart to heart with Potter.

"Can I kiss you Potter?"

"Only if you call me Harry."

Draco moves in close but passes out on Potter’s chest before they can kiss.

The next day it is back to business because they are on a clock now. The American's find the Book of the Dead and an ancient magic settles over them as they pull it out. They read from the book and accidentally activate an ancient curse that awakes the Mummy.

The mummy sucks the life/magic from one of the Americans becoming more alive looking.

Some other people die. Harry and Draco manage to escape but not before Draco is marked by the mummy.

They regroup at a hotel in a nearby town and devise a plan. One of the Americans decides to peace out and tells the others to have a nice life. The leader of the masked men shows up and chastises them for activating the curse. He tells them about the mummy, Neferkarê. Neferkarê was an ancient priest, i.e. wizard, sentenced to death along with his lover after breaking his vows. He placed a curse as he died that would ensure that one day he would awaken and resurrect his lover. The mark that he placed on Draco signifies that Draco will be the sacrifice to bring Neferkarê's lover back. Draco reads from the Book of the Dead and they learn that Neferkarê is weakened still and will need to suck the life/magic out of the Americans who unearthed the book before he can do the ritual to resurrect his love. Draco also figures that there must be a spell that can stop Neferkarê written in the Book of Amun-Ra. He goes over the layout of the city in his head as well as everything he has read about it and deduces where the book must be. Potter then locks Draco in the bedroom.

"This is for your own safety. The Mummy marked you, not me. I will rescue the American, get the book, bring it back, and then you can fix it."

Potter and the masked man go after the American who left, to warn him. Meanwhile Draco dies of boredom. He paces in the room trying to find a way out. Neferkarê shows up and drains the two Americans that Harry left behind to guard Draco. He then becomes sand and enters Draco’s room reforming. Draco fights him but Neferkarê has drained all four Americans at this point and kidnaps Draco.

Potter arrives just as Neferkarê grabs Draco and dissolves into a dust storm.

Potter chases after them across the desert on a broom.

Seeing Potter following them he stops and sends a sandstorm right for Potter. Draco attacks Neferkarê again and breaks his concentration so that Potter can get away. Potter crashes his broom but Draco is hopeful that he is still alive after all Potter has survived much worse.

Neferkarê finishes taking Draco back to Hamunaptra and ties him down to the ritual alter. He begins to prep the ritual and Draco can only hope that Potter shows up with the Book of Amun-Ra. Things look pretty grim for a moment but Potter shows up at the last minute and severs Draco’s bonds. Neferkarê resurrects other mummies that begin fighting Potter and turns his attention back to Draco. Draco meanwhile is trying to get the book open but it requires a key i.e. the puzzle box which is now in the possession of Neferkarê. Draco and Neferkarê battle a third time. Draco knows he is no match for Neferkarê, Harry might be - maybe, but he is otherwise occupied at the moment. So Draco outwits Neferkarê and gets the key. He reads from the book but before he can finish the spell Neferkarê recovers and turns on Draco again knocking the book away. Harry finished up with the undead army but he doesn't know if he should go for Draco or the book. Draco makes the decision for him.

"The book, Harry! Get the book."

Harry obeys and flips the book open to the right spot.

"I can't read this Draco."

"Just describe the last symbol to me."

At this point Neferkarê has begun to choke Draco to death.

"It’s some kind of bird. A stork!"

"Ahmenophus." Draco chokes out.

Draco manages to say the entire incantation and Neferkarê drops him and staggers back. But after a beat he seems fine and goes after Draco again.

Harry steps in and fires off a spell. "I thought that was supposed to kill him."

Draco shakes his head. "It made him mortal."

The structure begins to shake and threatens to collapse in on itself. Draco and Harry share a look and head towards the exit. Neferkarê refuses to leave his lover and ends up buried alive.

Draco and Harry emerge from the sand unscathed and share a passionate kiss before riding off into the sunset.

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[merakiaes]

Glad It’s You - Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Requested: By @a-libra-writes​ and anon. 

Prompts: #2 from the common tropes-list. 

Warnings/notes: I squeezed to requests in together in this one, hope that’s okay. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes. It’s really short and probably not very eventful but leave a comment and let me know what you think. 

Wordcount: 1466

Summary: You’re in an arranged marriage with Draco and neither of you is happy about it. But everything changes when he gets hurt. 

Growing up, you and Draco had been as close as peas in a pod. It was inevitable, as your parents were all Death Eaters and close as well, having attended Hogwarts together in their youth.

You spent every day and did everything together, and maybe that was why you ended up tiring of each other and growing apart when you entered your teenage years.

Or perhaps, it was because your parents went behind your backs and arranged for you to marry after graduating, completely without telling you about it and completely against your will.

To a start, Draco was kind of indifferent about it, but you were a strong believer in the modern times in which you chose who you married yourself, and put up one hell of a fight, starting to go against everything and everyone and doing everything in your power to get back at everyone involved.

This included starting to hang around Gryffindors and muggleborns in general; to a start, only to piss off yours and Draco’s parents in hope that they would call off the wedding, but with time you came to the realization that there was nothing wrong with not being pure-blooded, like you had been raised to believe all your life.

In turn, Draco grew furious. Not only because you appeared so disgusted by the idea of marrying him, but because he felt betrayed.

And of course, being the petty, spoiled brats that you both, in truth, were, you both made it your mission in life to do everything in your power to make the other’s life a living hell.

First came the harmless but offensive teasing, but it quickly took a more hostile turn, the two of you more or less bullying each other every chance you could get.

But of course, your parents did nothing to call off the engagement. After one of your many tantrums, your mother had told you it was because they saw something you didn’t, and then went on about her arranged engagement with your dad and how they had learned to love each other.

Blah blah blah, that was all you could hear when she told you about it, continuing to do your absolute best to give him hell.

The friendship you’d had when you were younger was long gone at this point, the two of you absolutely despising each other. At least that’s what you thought.

It had been all fun and games up until now, Professor Snape waking you up in the middle of the night to pass on the word that Draco had been injured and brought to St. Mungo’s for treatment, and that he would grant you a visit if you wished for it considering your… relationship.

Snape knew better than anyone how the two of you interacted, having to put up with your constant competitions and hostile comments and behavior in school. 

So he was shocked to say the least when you accepted his offer and rushed out of bed to get dressed, worry written all over your face.

But he said nothing about it, simply escorting you to the Headmaster’s office to take you to the hospital by the Floo Network.

Upon arrival, Narcissa was the first one to greet you with a very awkward hug, Lucius offering you a stiff, even more awkward nod where he stood off to the side with his cane.

While they stayed behind outside the hospital room to speak with Professor Snape, no doubt about what punishment he was planning to give Potter as he, as usual, was the cause of all the trouble, they let you go into the room.

It was almost completely dark, aside from a lantern flickering in the window of the room.

Your eyes instantly found Draco where he was laying on the bed, and when hearing your footsteps approaching, he turned to look at you too, his head instantly pulling into a nasty scowl, his entire body tensing up protectively.

“Come to gloat, have you?” He spat out at you without missing a beat and you rolled your eyes, not at all fazed by the hostility.

“We’ve known each other since we were children, Draco.” You pointed out as you kept heading his way. “We used to have sleepovers, explore the woods, feed the ducks, spend every holiday together. I care about you, no matter how much it pains me to admit it.”

The last part came out as a sour mutter, and you begrudgingly sank into the chair at his bedside.

Draco scoffed, his lips turning down in distrust, his grey eyes analyzing your every move. “Really now?” He questioned. “Because I can recall you making fun of my hair just a few hours ago.”

“And you stole and hid my every pair of socks yesterday, so drop the attitude.” You replied without missing a beat, your glare hardening.

He held your glare for another moment, before averting his gaze to the ceiling above his bed with a huff.

While he laid there and sulked stubbornly, you took the time to remove the jacket you had thrown on with haste when getting ready a few minutes prior, completely oblivious to the way his eyes flickered over to watch you.

Once you had gotten the coat off, you turned around in your seat and hung it over the backrest of the chair, brushing out the shoulders over the edges before turning back around.

Draco quickly turned his head back away from you, averting his eyes back to the ceiling before you could notice him staring.

A heavy silence hanged over you in the air, thick enough to be cut by a butter knife, and you were looking everywhere but at each other.

You looked around the room for a moment, tapping your fingers against your thigh anxiously, before finally moving your eyes back to him.

You inspected his face for a few short seconds, taking note of the scowl still etched across the sharp features, before turning your attention to his bare chest, where blood had slightly soaked through the bandage.

Stilling your fingers on your thighs, you nodded your head at the injury. “Does it hurt?” You asked, the question instantly drawing a scoff from him.

“What do you think?” He asked right back, without looking at you.

You only rolled your eyes, standing up from your chair and lazily waving your hand to get his attention.  

“Scoot over.” You said, and once again, he scoffed, the glare on his face deepening and his eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“Have you gone deaf?” You raised an eyebrow and crossing your arms over your chest. “I said scoot over. It’s freezing in here and there’s more than enough room for both of us in there.”

The glare on his face slowly faltered, turning into one of mild suspicion. “You’re staying the night?” He asked carefully and you simply hummed in confirmation, waiting for him to do as asked and make some space for you.

After looking at you with distrust for another few seconds, he finally did what you asked of him, slowly moving over to the left side of the bed with light hisses leaving his lips, his hand protectively lingering over the bandage.

You wasted no time in getting in next to him, pulling the thin blanket over your body and getting settled, keeping as much space between the two of you as the small hospital bed allowed.

Once you were laying comfortably, you folded your hands over your stomach, heaving a heavy sigh and staring into the plain white ceiling.

“I know I make it seem like I hate you and all but I don’t.” You confessed in a flat tone. “I’m just as unhappy about this whole thing as you are but if I have to marry someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Draco laid awkwardly by your side, his hands folded curtly over his stomach in an identical way to yours.

He was silent for a moment but soon enough you heard him sigh, his voice following shortly after. “Yeah, me too.”

In the corner of your eyes, you could see him unfolding his hands and bring his arms back down to his sides, and without looking away from the ceiling, you did the same, wordlessly moving your hand on top of his.

He froze at the unexpected touch, even more so when you intertwined your fingers with his. But he slowly relaxed again at the familiar touch of your skin against his, his eyes shutting with exhaustion and comfort.

It was just like when you were little and used to sleep over at each other’s houses, and both of you reminisced in the memory in silence, remaining on your backs and slowly lulling off to sleep side by side without another word.

Tagged: @lucillethings​ @writing-is-my-guilty-pleasure​ @peakyhermione​@fanficflaneuse​

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

What Christmas Means to Me- Dean x Reader

A/N: Happy New Year, friends! I am enjoying a Harry Potter marathon as I am off for the entire weekend! I hope you had a wonderful time last night and that you were safe! Hopeful for the new year.

So, this is extremely late and for that, I apologize. Life is rather chaotic for me but it’s okay, I’m doing good work for others. The, further along I get into this new job, the more I hope to be able to update without anyone looking over my shoulder. However, I hope you still enjoy this holiday fic, even with it being after the holidays!

Warnings: Slight mentions of depression, angst, but a lot of fluff to make up for the heavy stuff

Word Count: 5,152

Requests are OPEN!

Holiday Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

This time of year, was normally special to you. The lights, the presents, the food, the music, but this year, was different. 2020 was the year that was supposed to bring endless possibilities yet every dream of everyone all around the world, came to a halting stop as the coronavirus starting wreaking havoc on China first, then spreading its way to the rest of the world. Restaurants, schools, churches, movie theaters, bars, everything was shut down and people who weren’t considered essential workers were asked to stay inside. Towns and cities across the world were told it was unsafe to leave their homes unless it was absolutely necessary to. The summer saw a bit of a slowdown in the number of cases a day, yet there was an entire second “wave” expected to come by the winter months. It was a scary time, to say the least, but as the year was wrapping up and it the second wave was starting to take its toll too; you knew that everyone was anticipating the end of the year and a possible vaccination.

The family business needed to be put on hold. When the news broke about the virus, the Winchesters decided it was for the best interest and safety of everyone if you put your live-saving efforts aside until it was safe again. To say that it was a challenge to be locked up in the Bunker with the brothers was an understatement. You felt as if the walls were slowly closing in on you until finally, after four months in lockdown, you began to venture out of the Bunker. Wearing your masks and keeping yourselves distant from anyone who wasn’t in the Bunker, you and the Brothers had decided to make a much-needed supply run. In times of emergencies, like being put on a lockdown, Sam had stocked up over the years with necessary items. But no one knew you would end up using the supplies that were meant to last an entire year, in only four months. Because your normal supply runs that you used to do once a week hadn’t happened in all that time, it was needed now more than ever. The first time you left the Bunker since the virus hit, it was an odd experience. Wearing a mask anytime you were around other people, keeping at least six feet away from them and constantly having to wash or sanitize your hands was completely foreign to you. It seemed like a lot of people were already adjusted to these protocols but you and the brothers were struggling with these changes. Wanting to go home as soon as possible, you hurried to grab all your essential items before making your way to the checkout line. A few more attempts at these new runs and it almost became ‘normal’ for all of you.

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With the end of the year quickly approaching, it grew more and more difficult to get into the holiday spirit. Because everything was turned upside down, you wondered if Christmas was really worth celebrating. You couldn’t really go anywhere or have anyone over to celebrate, so why even bother? A lot of the normal activities you liked to do around the holiday has been canceled and it was hard to stay positive about it all. Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing; he knew how much this time of year meant to you and it hurt him to see that you were so down and out of spirit this year.

“I just don’t see the purpose of celebrating the holidays with this many deaths in the world, everyone panicking about how much worse this thing could get and we can’t really go out anywhere and do too much anyway, so what’s the point?” You say, explaining why you’ve lost your spirit.

 “The point is, it's your favorite time of year (y/n). You love all the lights and the music and movies, the tree, decorating the house; it’s your thing!” Dean said, almost in a pleading tone in his voice. It sounded a lot heavier than he normally used and you could tell it was bothering him to hear you say these unusual things about holidays.

 “I know that’s how I normally feel but I just can’t seem to feel that way this year,” you say, feeling worse about bringing it up to him in the first place, especially since he gave his best impression of Sam’s puppy dog look.

“Well, I think you just need some help getting into the holiday spirit then. And I think me and Sammy are the perfect ones to help you out!” Dean said, grinning from ear to ear. That normally meant that he was up to something and you knew he wouldn’t tell you what he was planning. 

“I don’t know Dean, I’m not sure that’ll help,” you say, still unsure of his idea. 

“Well, you can at least let us try, especially me. I have quite a few ideas up my sleeve,” he says with that grin never fading away.

“Really? So, you have ideas for spreading the Christmas spirit? Usually, you never get into the holidays; you typically treat them like any other day,” you reason with the eldest Winchester. You had known him for long enough to know how the holidays typically went for the brothers. 

“So, this year has been more different than in the past. I think we ought to celebrate being alive and healthy because who knows how next year will go?” His answer surprised you. It was deeper than what you were expecting him to say and he hasn’t said anything with that much meaning behind it in a long time. The sentiment warmed your heart. 

“Alright, that was unexpected coming from the resident grump of the family, but okay. If you want to be festive and think it’ll help,” you trail off before he interjects saying,

“I do think it’ll help; I promise!”

You chuckle, shaking your head at the fully grown man acting like a child. Within that instant, he was off to begin his plan but his first task was finding Sam.

 ----------------------------------------------֍------------------------------------------------

 Dean’s POV

 I was thrilled when (y/n) agreed to let me help her get into the Christmas spirit. It really upset me knowing she couldn’t seem to find any on her own. She’s the one who has gotten me and Sam excited for the holidays in the past but with this crap going on with this virus, she lost all her usual excitement. This usually cheerful girl had turned the exact opposite of who she normally was. I couldn’t let her be this down during this special time of year, so I took it upon myself to cheer her up. 

“Sammy!” I call out for my younger brother in the main room of the Bunker, hoping to see if he would want to help me out. He wasn’t in his room nor was he in the library; where the hell was he?

“Sammy!” I yell again, escalating my voice in hopes that would make a difference.

“Hey, what’s going on Dean?” Sam says, finally making his presence known.

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” 

“I was out in the garage working on some of the cars and before you freak out, no, I didn’t touch Baby.”

“Good, cause otherwise, I’d have to kill you,” I jokingly say but I’m just left with his infamous bitch face.

“What do you want, Dean?” He asks, growing more frustrated with me.

“I need help with a project for (y/n).”

“What kind of project?” Sam’s annoyance melted into curiosity.

“She needs a little holiday cheer,” I say.

“She’s not in the holiday spirit?” He sounded just as surprised as I did the first time I heard how (y/n) was really feeling.

“No, she said with all crap happening with this stupid virus, she doesn’t see a reason to celebrate the holidays,” I explain.

“But no one here has gotten it; shouldn’t we celebrate that?” Sam suggests.

“That’s what I told her but she said that because so many people have died from COVID we shouldn’t be celebrating. And because a lot of places that normally do events for the holidays are canceled or closed, that just makes her feel less interested.”

Sam held a rather sad expression on his face, much similar to the one I had when I first spoke to (y/n).

“So, what are we going to do?” He asks.

“Well, I think we should go crazy with decorations this year. All the lights, garland, blow up decorations in the yard; the whole nine yards!” I say with all the excitement I felt from within.

However, Sam just gave me this look, as if to say he knew something I didn’t. I decided to press him about it.

“What’s that look for?”

“You may not be as smart as you think you are,” He said.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I’m slightly offended at this point.

“Let’s just say not everything is how it seems. You need to look deeper than just the surface,”

“Alright whatever, are you in or not?”

“Yes, I’m in.”

Sam tends to go around saying things that make him sound like a hippy or something. I guess that’s why he always liked that Mandela guy. But that didn’t matter right now; what matters is that he’s helping.

I normally don’t like playing festive music but for (y/n)’s sake, I thought why not? I found a speaker and hooked my phone up to it. Trying to find rock n roll Christmas music was harder than I thought. Finally, I found Santa Claus is Coming to Town by the Boss. Grabbing some boxes of decorations, I had found in one of the storage rooms in the Bunker, I started setting up the specially requested tree from (y/n). She always talked about getting an artificial tree because they make less of a mess than the real ones do and she had a certain style in her head she wanted to try. She wanted a white tree with colored lights and for some red garland to be wrapped around it so that’s what she got. Granted, I had to go to a few different stores to find a big one to set up in the War Room so when you walk in the Bunker, you’re immediately greeted by a giant tree! Starting with a base and working from there, I constructed it myself before Sam decided to join in and help to add the ornaments we found. There were boxes filled with some rather outdated designs but Sam insisted we keep them because he knew (y/n) would like them. Much like him, she is a history nerd so she would love the antique look but I also know she would want to include the ornaments she had from her childhood and some of the ones she’s bought recently. I smile to smile to myself as I think about her reaction. Eyes wide, face brighter, possibly jaw-dropping; her expressions were adorable. Yeah, yeah, I know, I find my best friend adorable, so what? So that isn’t typical of me but she brings that out in me. It doesn’t matter cause it’s completely under control and no one knows about it. Do I have ‘feelings’ for (y/n)? I don’t know but something was different. The further into decorating Sam and I got, the more he’d keep looking at me with that same look as before.

“Alright, what’s on your mind, Sammy?” I ask, attempting to get my younger brother’s attention but he was too focused on his decorating.

“Hmm?” He says nonchalantly.

“Why do you keep giving me these looks like, I don’t know, you’re keeping a secret or something from me and you’re dangling that above me so I can keep asking you about it, so what’s up? What do you know?”

Now Sam’s attention was fully on me. He stopped what he was doing and looked right at me. He cleared his throat and took a few steps back from the tree, indicating he wanted me to follow him. He sat at the Map table, motioning for me to sit across from him.

“Well, this seems to be a lot of work for someone,” he starts, referring to all the work I was doing to help cheer (y/n) up.

“She’s not someone, she’s family and this isn’t just for her; both of us could use some Christmas spirit. We haven’t had a normal Christmas since we were kids and even that was usually met with Dad being away on hunts. We had that one year in the crappy motel room that you set up, and I loved that, but this, this is our chance to go crazy with it,” I defend.

“I don’t think you’d go to the lengths you are now just for anyone.”

“I would do the same for you.”

“Someone outside this Bunker.”

“And? What’s your point?”

“My point is, there seem to be underlying motives for you doing all of this for (y/n).”

“Aside from just being nice?” I question. What the hell is he getting at?

“Yes, I think you may have feelings for (y/n).” Shit.

“Of course, I have feelings for her, she’s my best friend. I care for her, ‘feelings,’” I say, using air quotes as I try to blow off the fact that Sam was right on the money.

“No, romantic feelings,” he adds.

“What makes you say that?” I ask, trying to play his little game. I needed to know if it was that obvious.

“Well for one, all of this,” he says, motioning to the room around us, now completely decorated. I’ll be honest, it looks like Santa threw up holly jolly stuff in here but it’s for (y/n) and she loves Christmas.

“I already told you, I’m just trying to help out a friend.”

“Then explain the way you look at her, or your immediate concern for her when she hurts herself, even a tiny cut. You freak out as soon as she says ‘ow’ and yes, she does say it a lot, but she’s usually fine. But you rush to her side and won’t stop pestering her until she insists that she’s okay. Or how about when she comes to check on you when you wake up screaming from nightmares? You instantly become like a child; clinging to her as if she was going to leave you forever. And do you think she can ever say no to you? Of course not. So, she grabs her own pillow from her bed and joins you in yours. And I know all of that because I’ve seen her do it before and I’ve found you two sleeping in each other’s arms several times. You’re crazy about her and would do anything for her. At the snap of her fingers, you’d go running. You’re in love, Dean, and so is (y/n).”

“Look, regardless of any possible “feelings” I may or may not have, this is the right thing to do. She would do the same for either one of us if we felt like she had” I reason, to which Sam nods in agreement.

If anyone needed this boost of Christmas spirit, it was (y/n). The virus has hit her hard because she cares for others so much. She, unfortunately, has so many friends who have come down with it and one of her family members passed away from it. We were right when we said we were lucky because no one here in the Bunker got it, but too many people (y/n) cared about were sick and that’s why she struggled so much.

Once everything was finished, I decided it was time for the surprise. Turning down the hallway of bedrooms, I stopped at the door that had (y/n) written on it. She wanted to make her room her own when she moved in so hers was the only one with her name on the front. Knocking gently, I hear muffled sobs coming from the other side of the door. 

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?” I say, pushing the door open to see her lying on her stomach, face buried in her pillows. When she mumbles a response of some kind, I walk to the side of the bed she was on, and place my hand on her back. She didn’t flinch at my touch, so I began rubbing soothing circles on her back, trying my hardest to comfort her as much as possible. Without really thinking, I reached for her and she flew into my awaiting arms. I won’t lie, I was surprised she was letting me be that affectionate towards her. Granted, we did have a rather “touchy,” “feely” relationship but this was different. With how I feel about her now, I noticed my behavior was a little different than it was before. I would hold her just a little tighter, my touch was a little bit softer and lingered just a bit longer. Not that I think she’d notice, especially at a time like this, but I tried anyway because now I knew how I felt. Something about seeing her vulnerable and relying on me for her support; meant a lot. I wasn’t sure if now was going to be the best time or not, but I think it’s now or never. 

“Hey, come with me. I know what will cheer you up,” I say into her hair, my lips pressing loving kisses to her head. With her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes that were wet from her tears, they sparkled in a different way than they normally would. It made me want to kiss her right there but I had to hold back; I couldn’t risk ruining this moment by moving too fast. But she looked into my eyes and she nodded, needing a hand up so she could follow me. She walked close beside me, and her smaller hand fit into mine. I found myself smiling at the contact, no matter how small it was. We walked out to the War Room and just as I had thought, her eyes widened, her jaw had dropped, and a hand had come up to cover her mouth. 

--------------------------------------------֍------------------------------------------------------------

Reader’s POV

“De-Dean, you, you did all this for me?” I asked once I was able to come back from my initial shock.

“Yeah. Well, when you said you needed help getting into the Christmas spirit and once you gave the okay on it, I knew we needed to go big on this,” 

“We?” I ask.

“Yep, Sammy helped out too,” 

“When you said you were going to help, I had no idea it was going to look like all of this! Dean, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me; thank you,” I say, still shocked by all the effort he put into it. 

“Anything for you sweetheart,” he says. “Come look at the tree,” he speaks softly, leading me over to the tree. Taking a closer look, I notice the ornaments that gave off an antique look to them. The boys must’ve found these in one of the storage rooms and it was sweet of them to put them up on my behalf. I know Sam didn't mind them but for Dean, history was definitely considered boring so this meant something. As I circled the tree, Dean remained on the opposite side, following my lead slowly. He kept his eyes focused on my face, as my eyes bounced between all the different hidden gems of the tree. The very minute my eyes locked with his, he would look away. We played this little game for a bit before Dean walked up the stairs to the door to the entrance of the Bunker. I follow him and am met with tons of blow-up animated characters. There was a Snoopy, a Santa, a reindeer, a Minion, the Grinch, so many different ones. I laughed as one of the characters kept swaying in the wind, occasionally hitting Dean as he looked at the work he did. He grew frustrated and started to fight with the inflatable, causing more of a ruckus than was necessary.

It was at that very moment that I saw him in a new light. I wasn’t sure why this made any difference but it made me think about my relationship with Dean. We had always been friends, ever since we first met. I had just happened to witness the death of someone that was a victim of a Rugaru attack so he and Sam had to ask me questions about what I witnessed. Since then, the boys had vowed to always protect me because I was scared shitless after what I saw. I wasn’t a hunter or used to anything of the supernatural world until that day, so when the boys told me who they really were, I was scared. Scared that an incident like that would happen again, it was Dean who drew me into a hug and reassured me he would never allow that to come true. It was Dean who would stay up late at night with me when I had nightmares of that day. It was Dean who stood by my side when I was sick, or when mother nature called and I couldn’t function. It was Dean who would watch chick flick movies with me because I spent hours watching Clint Eastwood movies with him. It was Dean who I fell in love with and was certain he was the man I was destined to be with for the rest of my life. He stopped ‘fighting’ with the inflatables when he noticed me just staring at him. Maybe he grew self-conscious and that was why he approached me slowly, but when he was close enough to me, I spoke the truth to my best friend, bringing light to a lie I had been burying for all these years.  

“I love you,” I say, holding back from jumping on him, as much as I wanted to in that very moment.

He seemed to have been in a different state of mind from what he was before my confession. He looked at me with a look I couldn’t quite make out the meaning behind. I wondered what was going through his head, the silence and stillness driving me up a wall. But just as I started to walk away, a hand had grasped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back to face Dean, who was suddenly a lot closer to me, as he gently placed his forehead against mine.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that sweetheart, because I too, love you,” he said, voice barely louder than a whisper, but it spoke volumes to me. He let go of my wrist, that hand sliding up the length of my arm and up to the side of my face, where his thumb ran back and forth along my cheek. His other hand had gripped my hip, bringing me right up to his chest, and his eyes never trailed away from mine, except to occasionally falter down to my lips and back up again. In all his years of flirting and one-night stands, if someone were to tell me he would fall in love and he would take his time expressing that love to someone, I would’ve laughed right in their faces. I would say ‘Dean Winchester, capable of falling in love with someone? Impossible!’ But to be on the receiving side of that affection and sharing that affection towards him, some things are just destined to change. Ever so slowly, he moved his head closer to mine, allowing the tension of the moment to build, until he closed the space between our lips. Almost immediately, I responded, falling into a rhythm that was easy to come by. His lips, soft and full against mine, showed just how strong and powerful he was. He was in control of this moment; I just followed his lead. His strength and resilience he used in his fights against the world of darkness and those who wanted to cause harm, was showing itself in this kiss. Yet there was another side of him that was only shown to a few who were close to him. A softer, vulnerable side, that proved he was scared of whatever he was feeling. A side of uncertainty of his future, a sense of fear of failing to protect his younger brother and me. He held himself to a much higher standard than anyone else because he was older and he knew his father trusted him to be another version of him. And it broke my heart to see him struggle with the constant fear of disappointment. As best I could, I tried to kiss that pain away, hoping that he could tell I didn’t expect anything else but for him to be himself with me. He didn’t have to try to be perfect, he didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone; all he needed to do was let himself just be.

“I love you, so much,” he says when we break the kiss.

“I love you too, Dean. But can we go inside, please? I’m freezing!” I say and we both laugh. He leans in to quickly kiss my lips again, before taking my hand in his and leading me back down to the Bunker.

When we stepped back down inside, Sam was sitting at the Map table, behind his laptop screen, typing away at the keys. He looked up when Dean let the door slam shut, a wide smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas, (y/n),” he says, standing up to hug me.

“Thank you so much for all this, Sam,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to hug the taller man.

“Well, I did just help out a bit but this was mostly Dean’s work.”

“I know, I think I’ve already thanked him pretty well for it,” I say, shooting the eldest Winchester a wink. Sam noticed and looked between his brother and me a few times, eyebrows raising in suspicion.

“Did something happen out there?” Sam asked, wondering what new development came from mine and Dean’s relationship.

“Let’s just say, we finally figured out what we felt towards one another and now, I guess, we’re now, together?” I say, looking to Dean, who just nods and smiles at me.

“Well, whatever this is, I am happy for you both. I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to figure it out without me having to get involved,” Sam said.

“Wait, you knew too?” I ask, surprised to know Sam was in on these feelings Dean had for me.

“It was a bit obvious, plus I’ve known Dean close to forty years so I can tell,” Sam said, smiling at me when he saw the blush form on my cheeks.

“I appreciate you not stepping in though, Sam. We had it figured out,” I say, trying to cover up the fact that we probably could’ve used more help.

“Yeah, it seemed like it,” Sam said, rolling his eyes but still smiling.

“Alright, alright, enough of that! (Y/N), go get in your pajamas; I have one more surprise for you,” Dean says. I can’t imagine what more Dean can do for me to get into the holiday spirit, but I do as he asks and head to my room.

Shutting the door behind me, I go to the dresser and open the second drawer from the top. Inside, I pick out a black, cotton tee shirt and red and green plaid pajama bottoms, to make up a holiday outfit. Brushing my hair back and out of my face, I tie it up in a loose bun and spritz just a bit of perfume on; had to smell nice for my man. My phone suddenly lights up, showing a new text awaiting my attention. I unlock the screen and press the messages icon. It opens to reveal ‘Dean’ and a small number one on the right side. I tap the message and I can see the entirety of the message.

“Hey baby, one thing I forgot to mention, grab a few pillows and blankets; it’s rather cold outside. I love you.”

What is this boy planning? I still do what he asks, grabbing all the pillows and blankets my two arms could carry and struggle to open the door. I teeter down the hall, desperately hoping I don’t bump into anything.

“Oh shit (y/n), here let me help!” Dean yells when I come back out to the Map room. “I didn’t mean all this!”

“I-I didn’t know how many to take so I just grabbed all I could,” I shrug, to which Dean just laughed at me.

“My silly girl,” He says, kissing my lips just enough to leave me wanting more but not enough to cause a distraction from his plan.

“Set the pillows down here and the blankets down on the other end,” Dean instructs, asking for the comfort items to be sprawled out of the floor. The extra blankets I brought made for a less than perfect bed but the company was more what I was there for. A fire had been lit and all the lights in the room had been turned off, except for all the Christmas decorations. Dean turned back to me after he finished illuminating the room with gentle light. It was just bright enough for us to see each other; his eyes reflected the lights from the tree and the fireplace as we lay and held one another. No words passed between us for a while, just the low sound of the crackling fireplace, as our eyes did all the communicating, we needed.

“I’m so happy that you are here with me and after all this time” Dean finally speaks up, brushing some hair out of my face.

“I’m happy too. I can’t believe we’re finally together,” I say, going in for another kiss, this one longer and slower than in the recent past. This, much like our first kiss, held all our feelings towards one another. Kissing Dean was something I would never get used to but I would cherish each kiss like it was our first; afraid it would be the last.

“So, did this help?” Dean asks, referring to his holiday plan.

I laugh, hiding my face in my hands, heat rising on my cheeks. I was still in shock that he did all this work for me but I loved him even more for it.

“Oh yes, very much. Thank you, Dean. This is what Christmas means to me, love,” I sing. “I love you so, so much.”

“The world and so much more to my girl. Merry Christmas, baby,” he says.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

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