#hp ficlet

[ginevrapng]

Dark Harry smut where he fucks reader til she’s cock drunk please?

i kind of strayed away from this but here's some dark harry smut. this isn't very detailed or explicit but i couldn't think of how to make it detailed

harry overheard you today talking to ginny, "i don't know ginny, harry just hasn't been there recently. he's normally so attentive and i really don't want to complain but i feel like he doesn't want me anymore." harry clenches his fist and his jaw as he hears you doubt his love for you.

later on that night when he finds you in bed scrolling on your phone he pounces, climbing on the bed and hovering over you. "i love you so much." before you can reply harry leans down and kisses you hungrily, running his hands over your body.

caught up with harry's kisses you're barely aware that he's lifted up your shirt so he can play with your tits. he's silencing thanking you for not wearing a bra to bed. you whimper as harry pinches your nipple and he smirks.

harry's put you in a mating press and you haven't even realised until he's entering you, making you gasp at the stretch. "harry slow down, you're too big," you say breathlessly. he ignores you.

"mine. you're mine," he groans at you possessively speeding up his thrusts.

you grab hold of his arm, digging your fingernails into the skin, pain and pleasure simultaneously taking over your body. "yours," you whimper, bringing harry's body down to yours so you can kiss him. "yours," you repeat against his lips.

harry smirks, "all mine baby."

[pooks]

"I asked for one taste-tester, not five!"

A disgruntled Percy in apron shouldn't feel so threatening, but somehow he reminded more of their mum. It was probably because they were in the kitchen.

Percy had finally gone outside his room and he had decided that this was a perfect day for some baking. He originally learnt "feminine hobbies" (as Charlie called it) to help his mother in the household, as the good, responsible son he was. But to his surprise, he found it enjoyable to cook, bake, knit and crochet.

Mrs Weasley often said that he would do wonderful as a future husband.

The downside was that as soon as he started to cook or bake, his siblings tended to crowd the kitchen and fight to be the "taste-tester". And lick the bowl.

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily and praying for Merlin to give him patience while his brothers and Ginny bickered and shouted at each other about whose turn it was now.

"I was here first, Ron!" Ginny yelled.

"You went last time, it's my turn!"

"It's my turn!"

"No, it's my turn!"

"All of you, SHUT UP!" Percy bellowed at them before he inhaled. "Fred, George, Ron and Ginny. Go and play Quidditch. Harry, you get to be the taste-tester."

"WHAT?!"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Because none of you idiots are acting as good hosts or can behave yourselves, so Harry wins by default. Besides, I trust his judgement."

Later, Harry sat by the long table and, after some encouragement from Percy, he happily tasted whatever Percy made and gave feedback.

Turns out that he could win Harry's favour if he got any dessert with syrup.

[annabtg]

so much blood.

What happens when you get hit by Sectumsempra?

Written as an exercise in second person POV for the HP Fanfic Writers' Guild POV workshop.

TW: blood, injury

Read on AO3 Completed, 268 words.

[unspeakable3]

[decided to post a thing for @girl-with-goats @hp-yuletide-bliss !!]

ch.1: Gingerbread

December, 1983.

Voldemort has been defeated.

The closest Regulus has come to dying (so far) has been suffering through the completion of his undergraduate thesis and attempting to convince his mother that he doesn’t need her help finding a witch to ‘court’.

(He has, somehow, managed to find a witch all on his own. Her name is Diana. She is his snitch-girl, his sunshine, the single ray of light that shines even in his darkest of moments.)

[constitutionalweasleymonarchy]

“Right, but what was his Animagus form?”

Ron hesitated a beat. “A rat.”

“Really?” Percy was making that face, the one that knew something didn’t add up and surmised it was your doing. “And nobody saw him for, what, twelve years? Where was he?”

Ron scratched the tip of his nose before re-crossing his arms — and then he stood and left the room.

“Where are you…?”

Ron returned with a bottle of whiskey and a small glass into which he poured a dram, and thrust it into the hands of a suspicious Percy.

“What — ”

“Trust me, just drink it.”

.

(For the Three Broomstick's server's Let's Do Shots fest; 100-word drabbles. Prompt: Ron Weasley)

[lqtraintracks]

Torino wrote me 350 words of Neville/Devil's Snare, and it is hhhhhhhhhhot! *fans self* Read Twine on AO3!

[starlitsilvereyes]

The Shadow in the Dark

Written for @drarrymicrofic 's Prompt: Proof | Rating: E | Warnings: Dark Harry, Character Death, Violence (Choking), Mention of Murder, Offscreen Murder | Read on Ao3

Note: Inspired by one of the songs in BTS’s Proof Album, ON <3

The Shadow followed Harry everywhere he went.

In his sleep, he found it lingering in his dreams, like a Horcrux that clung onto the very edges of his soul, like a thorn attached to a rose’s stems.  

In the Great Hall, sitting on the far side of the table. It avoided the sunlight. Harry figured it was because it’d disappear if it ever came too close to the sun. 

Hermione asked him one time, what he was always staring at. 

“It’s nothing,” Harry answered. “Just… thinking.” 

Hermione and Ron wouldn’t understand what he saw, even if he tried telling them.

In the Astronomy Tower, always hovering over Harry t as he looked at the stars. 

“The sky looks beautiful tonight, don’t you think?” Harry asked the same question every night. He never got a response. The Shadow didn’t talk much. 

It followed him even long after he graduated from Hogwarts. At first, Harry only saw it lurking alongside him wherever he went. The Shadow was like a cloud cast upon him, always hovering, always there. 

“Harry Potter, you’ve got a visitor.” The Auror who was guarding his cell at Azkaban this week was here. They never got to stay too long.

Harry didn’t bother looking away from his window, where he could see the barest edge of the moon. It reminded him of The Shadow’s eyes. 

“Harry?” 

The voice that called upon him felt too far away. Harry turned around and was met by the sight of someone familiar. The Lumos from their wand illuminated their red hair.

Uncertain of who the person who stood before him was, he looked over at the corner of the room, where The Shadow stood. It nodded at him. 

It was the only sign Harry needed before he launched towards the unknown man and pinned him against the rough wall. 

“Harry,” the man choked as Harry cast a wandless and wordless choking spell upon them. “It’s me, Ron, your best friend.” 

Harry paused at the words best friend. He was confused. The Shadow has been his only friend ever since he arrived at this place. He released Ron unwillingly, curious of what made him claim such a title. 

Ron gasped for air. Harry took two steps back. 

“I know you might not remember, but you asked me to bring you Draco’s sweater last week, remember?” Ron asked, reaching for his pocket for a small piece of fabric. He cast a spell on it and it transformed into a knitted green sweater. 

Draco. Harry finally remembered. The Shadow carried the same name. 

Harry noticed something attached to the sweater. It was a badge. A silver one with a snake engraved on it.

“Thought you might need something to hold on to,” Ron said, handing Harry the sweater. Harry snatched it out of his hand. “I know it isn’t you who killed those people, Harry. I know it’s something else. I’m going to get you out of here, I promise.” 

Harry felt lost. His nails dug into the sweater. He felt The Shadow appear beside him, its breath, cold as ice, fanning over Harry’s cheekbone. 

“Kill him.”

Ao3 | Ko-fi

[seriousbrat]

hunger, 1128 words

COKEWORTH, 1971

Lily is crying.

“Oh, you mustn’t listen to your sister, love,” Rosalind Evans says kindly. “You know she’s only teasing.”

“But…” Lily sniffles. “She’s so— horrible— she must’ve heard me and Sev talking about Werewolves yesterday, and she said she hopes me and Sev are eaten by Werewolves!”

Ordinarily, Rosalind might open with a soothing “hush, sweetheart, werewolves aren’t real”— but nowadays she hardly seems to know what might or might not be real after all.

“Lily, Petunia doesn’t mean it,” Rosalind says instead.

The doorbell rings.

Rosalind goes to answer it— on the other side stands a scrawny boy, black-haired, looking up at her with a rather nervous expression.

As it always does when she sees this odd boy from Spinner’s End, Rosalind’s heart gives a little twinge of pity.

Sev is a curious lad from a bad family, for Tobias and Eileen Snape aren’t the sort of people that one typically bumps into on Dorlcote Close. They, along with their son— a strange boy, sullen and brooding and clad in ill-fitting clothes— live in the bad part of town, down Spinner’s End near the mill. Sometimes when Severus steps outside his house he treads on abandoned needles and bits of glass, and sometimes shattered glass litters the floor of his own kitchen, too, following one of his father’s rages— the sort he never tells the kindly Evanses about. Eileen Snape and Rosalind Evans have never met— they could not be more different.

“Oh, hullo, love,” Rosalind says warmly. She is an uncommonly kind woman, and merely takes pity on the boy who— in her professional opinion as a mother— always looks vastly underfed. “Won’t you come in— Lily’s in the sitting room.”

Severus enters shyly, hands tightly intertwined behind his back.

Lily hurries out— not a trace of a tear on her face.

“Sev!” she says breathlessly. “Mum, can we go out to the park?”

“Oh, I suppose,” Rosalind says. “Severus, would you like something to eat, first, love?”

“No, Mum, let him alone,” Lily says, rolling her eyes, before Severus can answer. “Come on, Sev, let’s go.”

“Well— at least buy yourselves a packet of crisps from the corner shop,” Rosalind says, rummaging in her purse for change. She presses 50p into Severus’s small, clammy hand.

He stares at it, wide-eyed, then up at her.

“Go on, then,” Rosalind says fondly.

Once outside the door, Lily whirls around. “You wouldn’t believe what Petunia said to me today—”

“What’s that, then?” Sev says, staring at the 50p piece.

“She said she hopes we’re both eaten by Werewolves! Can you believe that?”

“Yeah,” Sev says listlessly. “Your sister’s a stupid cow. But what does she know anyway, there’s no Werewolves in Cokeworth.”

Lily laughs. “Yeah, too right.”

Sev starts to walk, thumbing the seven-sided coin.

“Park’s this way?” Lily says, sticking her hands on her hips.

“I thought we were going round the shop,” he mumbles.

“Oh, fine, then, if you like,” she huffs, grasping his arm as they head down the road.

“She gave me a whole 50p,” Sev says wonderingly, holding it up to the light, as if it might be fake. “That’s enough for two bags of crisps.”

“So?” Lily says, blissfully unaware of what this might mean to her best friend. “We can get a fizzy pop too if you like.”

“Yeah!” Sev says enthusiastically, dazzled by the prospect of so much sugar and snack foods.

They enter the shop— the bell jangles.

Salman, the cashier, looks up as they enter.

“Hello, Lily,” he says, before peering suspiciously over at Sev. “Hands off!” he snaps as Sev’s grubby little hands reach curiously for a magazine on a nearby rack.

“Was only looking,” Sev says sullenly, retracting his hand.

Sev selects a packet of cheese and onion Walkers from the shelf and waits for Lily to choose a fizzy pop; when they both set their items on the counter, Salman looks at Lily expectantly.

“I’ve got it,” Sev says, and he hands him the 50p piece.

Salman looks at it suspiciously, holding it up to the light as Sev had done. Finally, accepting its veracity, he counts out the change and gives it to Severus.

Severus thrusts the coins into his pocket, thinking he’s got enough at least for a Mars Bar later on— then Lily pulls him back out into the bright sunlight.

They head towards the park, their old haunt. It’s deserted, and the swings creak rustily in the slight breeze.

There’s a crackle as Lily opens her can of Coke; Sev, trying not to seem too eager but quickly abandoning the pursuit as his stomach growls in anticipation, tears the bag of crisps open— he reaches in and crams a fistful into his mouth.

Lily laughs at him as he chews noisily and swallows. She takes a seat on the nearest swing, and he follows suit. They kick their legs back and forth idly.

“What’re they like?”

Sev attempts to swallow a fresh mouthful of crisps. “Hmm?”

“Werewolves, I mean. Are they really vicious?”

Her eyes are wide, solemn.

“Oh, yeah,” Sev says knowledgably. “They attack at night, but only when it’s a full moon. And if they bite you, you turn into one of them.”

“Where do they go the rest of the time?” Lily says, frowning. “When it’s not a full moon, I mean.”

“Well, that’s the thing. During the day, they look human, just like you and me. They could be anywhere, waiting ‘til nightfall so they can strike.”

Lily takes a worried slurp of Coke. “So there could be a werewolf in Cokeworth, and we wouldn’t know.”

“Nah,” Sev says, shaking his head. “Though, come to think of it…”

“What?”

“Well, Mrs. Froggatt from the post office— she’s hairy enough, in’t she?”

Lily laughs, snorting Coke everywhere. “Come off it!”

“Have you seen her moustache?”

They giggle. Lily hands him the can. He takes a swig, then looks mournfully down at the packet of crisps, which is substantially less heavy now. “Sorry, I ate most of them already.”

“That’s alright,��� Lily says unconcernedly. “Wasn’t really hungry, anyway.”

They swing, and talk about Hogwarts, and how excited they are— regretfully, Sev swipes the bag of crisps with a sticky, salty finger, trying to collect every last flavourful crumb.

“Lily! Severus!”

Rosalind is hurrying towards them, her apron flapping in the breeze.

“Mu-u-um,” Lily says. “We’re busy, I’ll be in in a sec.”

“I know, love, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Rosalind says. “Just wanted to see if Sev’d like to stay for tea?”

“Oh, go on, Sev, say yes!” Lily says, eyes shining excitedly.

“Yes please, Mrs. Evans,” Sev says, unable to stop a grin unfurling on his face.

[scioneeris]

*tosses and runs*

😇🤭🫣🤫

[ginevrapng]

┆彡 ♡ tits or ass?

the preferences of harry potter characters (this is 100% canon) (this is just a little silly, a little goofy if you will but still canon)

harry- thighs, legs, basically anything from the waist down

ron- ass (you can't change my mind)

hermione- ass

neville- stomachs/tummies, he just thinks they're cute

ginny- thighs

fred- tits

george- swears it's personality but really it's thighs (THICK THIGHS)

luna- tits

draco- ass and he says it like everyone who disagrees is wrong

cedric- personality... (ass)

lee- thighs

seamus- he can't decide, it changes every time someone hot walks past him

cho- tits

[house-elf-magic]

HP AU ficlet - 4th year

Malfoy sneered as Harry walked towards him, but Harry’s steps never faltered.

“How much?” Ha asked, drawing near.

Malfoy’s sneer was momentarily replaced with confusion.

“How much for what?”

“One of those pins you’re selling,” Harry responded, pointing at the large pin on Malfoy’s robes that switched before his eyes to say “Potter stinks.”

Malfoy’s eyes seemed to squint as he performed what Harry could only call an assessment of his person.

“You’re joking,” Malfoy said despite not sounding fully convinced.

“No, I want one. Cedric’s the real Hogwarts champion, and I never wanted in this stupid tournament to begin with, hence the button.”

Malfoy’s eyes only seemed to shrink more as his brow lowered down his face in the most suspicious look he’d ever seen from the boy.

When Malfoy names a price that he’s pretty sure counts as extortion though, Harry proudly wears his pin around for all to see.

[chamomileteafuel]

outside over there

________________________________________________________ For the @hp-fearfest prompt - Changeling || Soul Rated M | 430 words | cw: implied miscarriages ________________________________________________________

There was a story he read when he was much younger, back when he tucked himself away in the back corner of a public-school library. With ill-fitting clothes slipping from his shoulder he had read about a young girl, not much older than himself at the time, who had braved a new world full of magic and strange creatures, all to reclaim her brother, stolen away from his crib and replaced with another. The image of a wax child melting in her arms when she had gone to hold him had frightened Harry, the coloured illustration imprinted in his mind well beyond his childhood. He doesn’t believe Ginny would have ever been unfaithful, not just by knowing her character intimately, but also in the ways she shared his bewilderment whenever studying their child. James shared his dark locks and complexion, and that is where all resemblance stopped. He does not carry the brown warmth of his mother’s eyes, nor the green depths of his father’s. His eyes are dark pits, too intense, far too knowing and horribly observant for an infant. Harry had always wanted to be a father. He had always fancied himself as the type to raise a small army, if Ginny had been so inclined, he had been so eager to create a large family where he could never feel alone again. But after struggling to conceive, and after sharing too many tears over little souls lost in the process, they had chosen to pour all their love into James. He loved his child, truly he did. And James? Well, he just happened to show his affection in different ways, that’s all. Protective, Harry would say while Ginny paced their kitchen, the scent of burnt hair wafting over a forgotten roast, singed scarlet still smoking. Possessive, Ginny would spit back, body quivering under the weight of it. Maybe if he had listened to his wife’s concerns with open ears, unfettered by the young voice hissing into them, perhaps then Ginny wouldn’t have packed her bags one night and left without a word. James grew into a handsome thing, cold and sly and far too clever, his dark eyes taking on a suspicious glint. He started to create even larger rifts between their family with softly forged innocence lacing his demeanour, neatly crafting an isolation that eventually gave Harry pause, caused him to contemplate the life he had created. It’s only when he found the shoebox filled with stolen items, small trophies, and dead things, that Harry truly started to wonder if they had been too hasty in naming the child. Perhaps they should have called him Tom.

[myst867]

Summary: Harry and Hermione meet Tom Riddle on the field of battle. Before the battle commences she threatens Harry that if he dies, she'll go drag him back from the afterlife. She's going to find out that Harry would do the same for her.

[pottergarden]

Is Harry Potter…

AO3

“Hey, I’m Harry Potter and this is a Wired Autocomplete Interview.”

Harry sits facing forward in a chair, with a deep, white backdrop behind him. His legs are stretched forward in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He holds a large white piece of paper board loosely in front of him. On the board is a Google search containing the words, “is Harry Potter.” Below this are several search results, partially covered in strips of white paper.

“Okay. So, the first card are all ‘is Harry Potter’ searches so let’s see what you’ve been wondering.”

“Is Harry Potter…” a ripping sound can be heard as Harry pulls off the paper covering the second half of the question. “…The Chosen One.”

Harry laughs softly as he glances away, looking rather embarrassed.

“I suppose? I mean, the thing I was chosen for is kinda all wrapped up now, so…” he trails off, the sound of crumpling paper coming from his hand.

He continues to the next line, tearing at the paper over the last word.

“Is Harry Potter… dead?”

Harry waits for the laughter off-camera to subside before deadpanning, “No, sorry to disappoint.”

Rip. “Where is Harry Potter?”

Harry looks into the camera now and answers cheekily, “Oh, you know. Around.”

Rip. “Where is Harry Potter…” Rip. “…From?”

“Oh, interesting,” says Harry with some enthusiasm. He seems more impressed with this question than the previous few. “I’m from Surrey. My Aunt and Uncle’s place is there. And before that, the village of Godric’s Hollow.”

“How tall is Harry Potter?”

“I’m actually not sure. I haven’t been properly measured in ages. But I know my best mate, Ron, is 6’4” or so? Sooo, based on that I’d guess maybe I’m, er, about 6ft? I dunno.”

“Right, do I set this down?” he asks the crew members offscreen, holding the card aloft. After a muffled response, and Harry says, “Oh, okay” with a laugh, throwing the card to the floor next to him.

He holds up a new white card, who’s words are covered minus scatterings of, “does Harry Potter.”

“Does Harry Potter…” Rip. “…Have a scar?”

“You know, I used to get this question a lot more when I first joined the Wizarding World and went to Hogwarts for the first time. Everyone wanted to see my scar and would recognize me off that. I started getting into the habit of sort of nervously flattening my hair over it when lots of people were staring at me. I still do it unconsciously even though I realize it’s useless. Enough people have seen my picture in the papers and wanted posters, that they all recognize me off my face.” he finishes, appearing rather disappointed by this.

“Does Harry Potter… have a girlfriend.”

“I knew this was coming. And I’d rather not say. I don’t know that it’s anyone’s business, really,” he notes firmly.

“Does Harry Potter.. play Quiddich!”

“Yes!” Harry exclaims, looking suddenly energized. “Yes, I was a part of the Gryffindor team on and off since my first year. I didn’t get to play as much as I would’ve liked, because of all the nonsense that happened at the school while I was there. But yeah, I got to be Captain in my sixth year, which was great.” He smiles softly for a moment, looking lost in the memory. “Quidditch was definitely a highlight of my time at Hogwarts. I just wish I could’ve played more.”

Lifting another new card to his chest, Harry declares, “Now, ‘Can Harry.’”

“Can Harry Potter… speak Parseltongue.”

“Actually, I’m not sure that I can anymore! I hadn’t even thought about it since Voldemort died!” And addressing the crew with a smile, “Does anyone have a snake laying around I could try talking to?”

“Can Harry Potter… produce.. a Patronus.”

“Yes, my Defense professor, Remus Lupin, taught me in my third year because the dementors were affecting me quite badly. It’s a stag, same as my dad.”

“Can I marry Harry Potter.”

“Oh, god,” he mumbles, suddenly shrinking in the chair by a fraction. “Erm… I’m flattered you imagine you’d want to do that.. but erm… probably not.”

“Can Harry Potter… play Chaser.”

“Yes? I can, I do prefer playing Seeker though.”

Next card in hand, Harry says, “Alright. Did Harry Potter. This one seems a bit longer than the others. I suppose I’ve done a fair amount of noteworthy things.”

“Did Harry Potter… kill You-Know-Who.”

“I mean, technically Voldemort’s own Killing Curse rebound onto him when his wand refused to kill me…”he trails off, thinking. “But essentially, yes, I did.”

“Did Harry Potter… have private lessons with Dumbledore.”

“As I mentioned in my Ministry testimony, they were more like research sessions than lessons,” says Harry matter-of-factly, leaving it at that.

“Did Harry Potter… kill Dumbledore.”

Harry takes a moment to audibly sigh.

“This question has to be because of that awful Daily Prophet article where they sort of implied that I killed him.” He suddenly looks rather tired. “I’ve had a really rocky relationship with The Prophet since the Triwizard Tournament days. They have a great habit of punching me when I’m down. The year after Voldemort’s return was one of the most difficult of my life. I was very alone and The Prophet definitely was a big reason for that.”

“And they wonder why I won’t give them an interview now!” he jokes with a touch of venom.

“Did Harry Potter… enter the.. Triwizard Tournament.”

“No,” he rebukes seriously, sounding a little annoyed now. “A Death Eater named Barty Crouch Jr. entered me. Looking back now, I don’t know why I couldn’t have just not shown up to the tasks? Or maybe declare that I forfeit before each one? It was all very strange.”

“Did Harry Potter… defeat Slytherin’s monster.”

“Yes, the Chamber of Secrets was opened by Tom Riddle in my second year. Ron and I went down to the chamber, and I stabbed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. Fun times,” he adds dryly.

“Alright. Last one, yes?” Harry questions while pulling the ‘Why Harry Potter’ card to himself.

“Why is Harry Potter… The Chosen One.”

“Well,” begins Harry patiently, “there was a prophecy made about a person with the power to vanquish The Dark Lord, and Voldemort decided that that person was me. So, as usual, you can blame him.”

“Why did Harry Potter… defeat You-Know-Who.”

“I would’ve thought it was obvious, what with all the murder!” laughs Harry. He waits again for the laughter off-camera to calm before continuing.

“Seriously though, I know most people think I did what I did because Dumbledore made me. They think he basically manipulated me into giving my life to stop Voldemort, but I just don’t see it that way. I defeated Voldemort because I wanted to. And, I think I would’ve wanted to with or without Dumbledore.”

“I would’ve had a totally different life if it weren’t for Voldemort, one with a lot less fear and pain. I had to stop him for myself and for everyone that’s suffered because of him.”

“Why is Harry Potter so brave.”

“That’s very nice of you to say,” mumbles Harry. He looks down at his lap, taking a moment to parse through his thoughts. “Erm… I think I just really hate letting people down. So, I do what I have to to make sure everyone is safe and happy.”

Muffled sounds of applause fill the air around the camera.

”Thank you guys for inviting me today,” beams Harry, addressing the off-camera crew. “It was great meeting you all.”

—