#hpxreader

[hexbees]

buildup to dating draco headcanons! pt.2

a/n:: my own personal headcanons for draco! obvi you can think or feel however you want!

draco who shamelessly keeps a pack of hair ties in the potions classroom for you because you always forget to tie it up

"oh my gods, draco do you have a ha-" you'd groan out loud at your forgetfulness

"what color?" he'd hide the upturn of his lips, knowing he'd only bought apple green ones. it was on instinct; you look so good in green.

never catching an attitude, even when he is upset or annoyed with you.

"just please let one of us know next time you leave a party with someone." his eyebrows scrunched together.

"draco-" you'd sigh.

"we were worried, we couldn't find you. i just want to know you're safe." he'd shake his head, eyes watery from lack of sleep staying up waiting the night before.

"im sorry"

draco who lets you be yourself, with no judgement.

"granger sat next to me in the library! oh my god, she smelled so good. i think i'm in love, seriously." your head slamming down between your crossed arms in a huff.

"why don't you ask her on a date then?" he flipped the page he'd been reading, not even looking up.

"ugh, like she'd ever go out with me." you pout up at him.

"worst she can do is say no..." he'd finally look up, letting his head tilt a little while he thought. "or hex you. she scares me just a little."

getting fidgety with your affectionate touches, he swears you do it on purpose.

"can you stop moving?" you'd wiggle in your spot, exaggeratingly copying his movements.

"you're sitting on my lap, what do you expect me to do?" he'd grab at your hips to halt your wiggle.

"i don't know, let me be comfortable." you'd lean back against his chest with a slight huff. he'd immediately stop moving completely, even steadying his breath, in hopes you'd gain comfort and stay in his lap.

never letting you pay for anything for anything in shops.

"just a butterbeer please" you hadn't even looked at the shopkeeper, digging in your side bag for a coin.

"i got it" he'd place the payment on the counter faster than you'd even finished ordering.

draco who always stands off to the sidelines, watching your surroundings so you can enjoy yourself fully.

he noticed Cormac lingering behind you even after you had turned around and told him to piss off. "McLagen, go the fuck away."

"mate, come on. she looks so good, i just want to dance with her." Cormac would try to argue.

"she does look good, but not for you." he'd cross his arms and stand between you and the creep, cutting off his view of you without interrupting your own fun. you were completely oblivious to draco behind you now.

he can't stop the compliments from fumbling out of his mouth, no matter what you look like or where you were.

"you look ravishing, mon amour." he'd pass you a water bottle, smiling at your red skin and the hair stuck against it.

"i was just at practice. my hair is knotted and im sweaty, mon cher." you'd sneer at him, annoyed with your loss at a skirmish.

he'd smiled at your attempt to mock his pet name, but his heart would only swell "yes, i can see. you still look beautiful."

draco who can't, or rather doesn't care to, hide his feelings for you anymore.

"god, you're so in love with her, it's pathetic." blaise mocked him, watching him gaze at you reading a book across the room, none the wiser.

"oh please, its endearing and sweet." pansy would smile at him, patting his arm while his face rose into his own smile hearing you puff out a laugh at the page you were reading.

draco who finally confesses

"do you even realize how i feel about you?"

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, i'm in love with you. surely you've noticed."

"well i didn't want to assume-"

"my god, just please come on a date with me."

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

The Girl Who Lived Series Masterlist

Summary: Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world.

Aka a swap au where your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. This fic is a multi-chapter one, and will pretty much cover all of the major events that happen at Hogwarts, with a slight twist since you’re the chosen one and not Harry. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers.

Main Harry Potter Masterlist

Chapter 1.1: The Unexpected Visit

‘“I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.” Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.’ OR: in which unexpected encounters open your eyes to a whole new world. One, it seems, you know nothing about, but knows everything about you.

Chapter 1.2: Train Rides and Talking Hats

‘“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.” Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.” “Same goes for you.”’ OR: in which you hitch a ride on the Hogwarts Express and buckle up for one hell of a ride.

Chapter 1.3: To Win

Coming soon xoxo

[biggestxsimps]

Study Date

Draco Malfoy x Male Reader

A/N: This requested over on our Wattpad! I really hope this is okay. Always, if there's anything you think should be changed, just let me know!

You loved to spend your evenings in the library, the smell of ageing pages and vintage furniture always made you feel comfortable. Of course, you weren’t just here to admire your surroundings, but to actually study.

Most of your classes you had, were with your boyfriend, Draco. And somehow, it became harder and harder to focus on classes and get work done. The two of you gossiping as your classes went on without you. Only truly focusing in your Potion’s classes, too afraid to be faced with Snape’s discipline.

That brings you to now, sitting behind a withering table on a just as old chair, as the lamp in front of you flickered ever-so-slightly. You lift your head, stretching your neck as you tear your eyes from the book that felt excruciatingly longer than it was, turning to your mumbling boyfriend.

His book laid open on the table and his hands were quick to copy the printed words onto a yellow-tinted parchment, the hushed words falling from his mouth as he wrote them. As he dips his quill, he glanced your way, noticing your eyes on him.

Leaving the quill in the inkwell, he faces you, a couple bones popping as he shifts out of his previously uncomfortable position. His eyes soften as they fall on you, a small tired smile creeping its way onto his face.

Your lips mimic his, it wasn’t often you saw Draco this relaxed, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. It almost made you sad, his smile not as familiar as it used to be. You sigh, that wasn’t a thought for now.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this before I either fall asleep or my hand falls off.” He shakes his hand awake as he lets out a scoff, you chuckle, agreeing with him. “I can barely keep my eyes open anymore.” You rub your palms against your aching eyes, trying to keep them open just a little longer.

“I say we take a break.” He leans back in his chair as he crosses his arms. “We’ve been at this for hours.” You hear a slight whine in his voice, you couldn’t deny, a break sounded great right about now. You nod, bringing your arms above your head, exaggeratingly stretching as you groaned.

Once your arms dropped, you brought one to the boy beside you, resting your hand against his cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he digs himself further into your touch, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, bringing you closer.

A tense breath left his lips “I missed you, this.” You let out a little chuckle. “We’re with each other almost all day, every day.” His eyes open back up to send you a playful glare, his other hand sending a soft hit to your leg. “You know what I meant. It’s not often we get peaceful moments, like these, to ourselves.”

You respond, a grin still slightly evident on your face. "I suppose this is nice, I can't say I haven't missed being with you, like this." Your thumb starts to draw little circles against his cold cheek. He hums, clearly enjoying the feeling of your warmer hand.

"You're truly gorgeous, Draco." You watch as pink starts to find its way on his face, his lips slightly twitching before he sunk into your shoulder. You both let out your own quiet laughs, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

Your hand falls from his cheek, slowly grazing over his body before stopping against his lower back, your fingers twiddling with his loose robes. He follows your movements, bringing his arms around you and holding his hands against your own back.

“You’re too kind to me.” You feel Draco’s smile against your neck as he talks. Your head starts to lightly shake as you whisper back to him. “Only as kind as you deserve.” His head lifts back up, only a few inches from your face. “Thank you.” You feel his light breath fan against your lips before he presses his lips against your own.

The kiss is chaste, full of love and longing as you tangle your hand into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. His hands reach to your neck, wrapping around before slightly pulling you lower into him. The both of you part, breathlessly gasping before reconnecting.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, his cheeks about as red as his swelling lips. A comforting silence fills the room as your fingers comb through his hair, brushing down the messy flyaways. Draco slightly hums at the touch, eyes falling shut again.

Draco sighs as he falls back into you. "How are you feeling, Love?" You gently scratch against his scalp before he mumbles against you. "Mhmm.. Just tired." You nod, slightly pulling him off of you.

"C'mere." You lean back as you tap your thighs. He drozily lifts out of his chair, taking a seat in your lap. You keep your torso tilted back as his body completely falls into yours, arms wrapped around your shoulders as he lays his head in your neck.

"Rest well, Draco." Your hand draws and lightly drags around his back, your lips placing a soft kiss against his forehead. He whispers back a "G'night" before you hear his light snores.

A/N: I honestly enjoyed writing this, give me more Draco requests pleasee (jk)

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[harrypottersprettygirl]

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮！ 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝗒／𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖴𝗆𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋，𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾， 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍？

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗈𝗈𝖼 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒，𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗌，𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 “𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒“， 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀．

<𝟥

𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒, skipping dinner and drowning in self pity while 𝗂 watched the scar on 𝗆𝗒 hand

“filthy mudblood“ was written, as 𝗂 watched the scar not only was the pain harsher but there were more tears threatening to spill out

mudblood. mudblood means dirty blood, it’s a really foul name for someone who’s muggle born, someone with non magic parents.

why was it effecting 𝗆𝖾 so much, why does it matter, it’s a scar it’ll fade one way or another, maybe not tommorow but, eventually, it will.

𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 still “admiring“ 𝗆𝗒 scar, trying to look at it as a reminder that this shows that 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 not weak, never was, muggle born or not.

𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 pulled out of 𝗆𝗒 thoughts 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 heard someone knock, 𝗂 thought it was one of the girls that heard what happend and was just thirsty for more details

“go away.“ 𝗂 muttered, trying not to sound 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝗋𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀

“𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗆𝖾，𝖧𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒．“ 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽， 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗌𝗈？ 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾．

“𝗈𝗁，𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒，𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇．“ 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋，𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾．

“𝗂 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽．“ 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝖽，𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾， 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌．

𝗁𝗂𝗌 ���𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇，𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾

𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋，𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍

“𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍？𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖴𝗆𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌， 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽， 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅． 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝖾？𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗅．𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 ，𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝗍．“

“𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎．“ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍， 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍

𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽．

“𝗌𝗁𝗁，𝗂’𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎，𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗁．“ 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽

“𝗈𝗁，𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅．“ 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾．

[gg-sky--gg-sky]

Spooky Season Date// Tom Felton

Y/n’s POV- I stood next to the cider booth cuddling into my sweater as I waited for Tom to get back with our ciders. I spotted him on his way over to me holding two disposable cups with apples printed on them. “Here you go love,” he smiled at me as he handed me my warm cider. I smiled at him taking it in my hands and sipping the warm liquid. “Thank you,” I smiled once my throat was warm again. “Let’s go to the pumpkins before all the stations are full!” he said excitedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the pumpkin carving stations… “Stop looking, it's a surprise!!!” he tried blocking my view of his pumpkin as I tried to take a peek. “I just need some inspiration,” I laughed. “Look on Pinterest or something” he shot back laughing. “Ughhh I have no thoughts” I whined, shaking my pumpkin… “Ok ready?” he asked. “Almost… Just one more detail…” I said trying to add a little something to my pumpkin. “Ok let’s go” y/n. “Ready… 3 2 1 go!” t. We both turned around showing each other our pumpkins and Tom bursted out laughing at my pumpkin. “How dare you laugh at my pumpkin?” I gasped, fake offended and started laughing as well. “I’m not laughing,” he said, laughing at my pumpkin that had a little smiling face in the middle and some random designs all around it. “My pumpkin is cute, your pumpkin just looks like-” y/n, “Like it was carved by a professional? Yeah I know” he smirked holding up his traditional spooky face pumpkin with pride. “Whatever, it looks good I guess,” I rolled my eyes playfully… “C’mon just one more bottle!” I cheered for Tom as he tried to knock down the last bottle on the shelf. “Yay!!!!!” I cheered as he knocked down the last bottle. I raised my hands in excitement and went up to him. He embraced me and spun me around in excitement. “Which prize would you like sir?” the kid handling the booth said in a monotone voice. “I’ll take that one,” Tom said, pointing to a pumpkin stuffie they had displayed. “Have a great afternoon,” the kid said, handing him the plush and taking his phone out. “Damn. It really sucks that much to work here,” Tom laughed as we walked away. “Kid is probably just tired that he has to deal with people like us all day,” I chuckled. Tom handed me the plushie as he intertwined his fingers with mine holding my hand. “What?” I asked, holding up the plush. “I won it for you,” he smiled. “Awe how cute” I smiled holding it close to my chest… “Well I guess we go our separate ways then” Tom said looking kinda sad. “Well we don’t have to…” I looked at him suggestively. “What did you have in mind?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at me… “You have to get in there. Really work it” Tom said guiding my hands. “I’m tired” I groaned as I kneaded the dough. “Alright that’s fine, we don’t want to overwork the dough” t. “When I said I wanted to make cookies I was thinking we could just go get dough. I didn’t want to make them from scratch” I laughed as I began cleaning up the flour left on the counter. I was wiping the flour onto a dust pan when I tripped over something on the floor, falling forward a bit before I caught myself. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry” I laughed looking up at a flour covered Tom. He turned around, his mouth in an O shape, shocked that he just felt his whole body get covered with flour. “This requires revenge” he nodded his head, giving me evil eyes. “No, I swear it was an accident,” I said, backing up and extending my arms out to keep him away. He grabbed some flour from the counter and threw it at my head. I gasped in surprise as he laughed at my shocked expression. “Awe naw dawg” I glared at him grabbing some more flour from the counter. He realized and ran away from me circling the island I had in my kitchen… “Well that was something” Tom laughed wiping some flour from his forehead. “It sure was. I really hope these cookies come out good” I laughed along with him washing my hands in the sink… “Do we just eat these in silence now?” Tom asked looking down at the cookies we just decorated. “Well we could watch a movie” I suggested. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t say-’ T. “Harry Potter?!” I said excitedly. “Ughhh I knew it” Tom rolled his eyes. “Oh c'mon it’s spooky season and I usually watch Harry Potter around this time anywayyyy” I tried convincing him. “Fine, fine. But then we have to watch something else so I can forget the cringiness” he sighed…“Well I guess it’s time I should I’ll be heading off then” Tom smiled looking down at me. “I guess it is. I had a great time with you though” I smiled up at him. He bit his lip slightly before dipping his head down to meet my lips in a quick kiss. “We should do this again sometime” he smiled, his cheeks getting red. “We definitely should” I smiled, watching him walk away.

-SKY

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Potter’s Super Date (2/?)

(Y/N) had successfully held out for two days, avoiding the head boy anywhere and everywhere. Which turned out to be a challenging feat, considering they shared the same common room. 

When James had found out they would be the Head Boy and Head Girl, he was ecstatic. Especially, since it meant the Marauders would practically get away with anything now. But if she had known this was what was going to happen, she would’ve declined Dumbledore’s offer of Head Girl in a heartbeat. Maybe then, the position would have gone to Lily after she rejected it, and James would not be chasing her around the castle, currently.

Not to mention, her most trusted companion wouldn’t be betraying her right about now.

“Please just say yes, (Y/N).” Remus pleaded, clutching his hair in frustration. “He won’t stop whining. And he’s soon going to find us here, and get us kicked out like he did yesterday.”

“Remus, not you too!”

“Sorry, I can’t handle it anymore!” He grasped his hands together, begging. “Please, end our misery.”

She grumbled, unhappy that her only comrade was betraying her. She undoubtedly knew Sirius was going to side with James, but hoped her best friend would be on her side. 

It was then she saw the library doors slam open from afar, revealing, the one and only, James Potter.

“Speaking of misery.” she rolled her eyes.

“(Y/N)! You can’t avoid me forever! I know where you live.” He called out from the entrance, scanning the room with his eyes.

“I knew it was a mistake befriending him.” She whispered, quickly hiding under the table. “This is all your fault!” she accused Remus. “Give him a chance, he’s a good and loyal mate, you said,” mocking Remus’ voice. “He’s a bloody pain in my arse, that’s what he is.”

Remus shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Trust me, I regret it as much as you do right now.”

She was about to argue who was regretting it more, when she was stopped by the sound of footsteps nearing their table.

“Moony, where is she?”

“She’s right und-OW!” He yelped in pain from the sharp pinch on his leg. “I mean…she just left a couple minutes ago.”

“Really? Then why are her things still on the table?”

(Y/N) held her breath and closed her eyes, hoping Remus could come up with a good enough excuse.

But she should have known- Remus was never a good liar. 

“Umm, because she…”

She didn’t hear anything after that. 

Thinking he just walked away, she opened her eyes to come face to face with James.

“Bloody hell!” She screamed, surprised at their sudden close proximity.

James smirked at her reaction before grabbing her from underneath the table. 

She huffed in frustration, glaring at both boys. “I rue the day we ever met.”

“C’mon love. Meeting me was and is the pinnacle of your life.”

She rolled her eyes at his narcissism. “And you wonder why Lily has never given you the time of day.” 

“Ah, but she will once I take her on the super date, that you will help me with.”

Noticing he had let go of her hand, she eyed the closest exit out of the library. 

“Listen, while I would love to, but I have to go to the loo. Really urgent business, had a big breakfast.” she said, trying to make a run for it. 

Remus would grab her things for her. Getting out was the most important thing on her mind. 

She had successfully reached the doors, opening them and hightailing it to the bathroom. Surely, he wouldn’t follow her in there. 

But she made a mistake to look back at the last minute.

James was right behind her, causing her to panic and lose her footing. She quickly reached out, trying to grab onto something. 

James ended up being that something. 

Not having enough time to stop, James barreled into her and went right down with her.

“Oof!” she groaned, the air squeezed out from her lungs as James landed on top of her. 

Her eyes widened at their closeness, while James responded with a smug grin.

“Love, if you wanted me on top of you, all you had to do was ask.”

Her cheeks burned as she could feel all the places they were touching. 

She sputtered, before pushing him off of her and brushing away the dust on her back as she stood up.

She thought she saw a hint of pink on his cheeks from the corner of her eye, but decided not to think much of it. It was probably from all the running.

But before she could do anything else, she felt herself being tugged up and thrown over James’ shoulder. Thank Merlin she was wearing her black robes, or else everyone in the halls would have gotten a free show.

“Prongs, put me down!”

“Not a chance, love. I’m not going to let you run away again. Frankly, I’m a little tired from chasing you around everywhere.”

“What are you going to do, then? Tie me up?”

“Ooh, kinky.” He responded with a laugh. “I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.”

“Why is it, you always turn everything I say into something sexual?”  She did the only thing she could in her position and started pinching his back, which didn’t seem to falter him at all.

“I’ll stop if you agree to my trial date.” 

“Never.”

“Then, I guess you’ll be sleeping with me tonight.”

“W-what?!” she yelled.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight. That includes at night as well. Unless, you wanna change your mind?”

She wasn’t going to let him win. This was what he wanted. No, she would make him back down, first. That way he would learn not to mess with her the next time she said no to one of his stupid, idiotic ideas.

“Fine, then I guess we’re sleeping together tonight.” she said nonchalantly, but thankful that he couldn’t see her increasingly blushing face.

“Yeah we are- what?” 

“What’s wrong James?” she smirked, realizing he hadn’t expected her to go along with his threat.

“Um, nothing. Nothing at all.” His voice going up an octave. “A-are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

“Nope. Why, is something wrong?” She asked, innocently, while trailing a finger down his spine. He shivered at her touch.

“Uh, nothing wrong at all. I’m just- uh, could you please stop doing that?” he asked, as she continued following the line of his back with her finger.

He then lifted her off his shoulder and onto the ground, as they reached the door to his room.

“Get used to it James. I get very handsy when I sleep.” She whispered in his ears, playing into the silence of their common room.

Thank Rowena they had their own common room as heads of the school, or she probably wouldn’t have had the confidence to play along.

“I hope you have a long shirt for me to wear. I don’t like wearing pants when I sleep.” she winked, before taking the liberty to open his door and enter inside.

As he stared at her back with wide, disbelieving eyes, James wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal he was feeling. 

_______________

Here’s part two! Idk where this story is going but I’m liking it so far lol. I wasn’t planning to update this early, but I wanted y’all to have something to read while quarantined. Hope everyone is doing okay, and please stay safe! Also don’t be racist!

Safe readings! :)

[capricorns-musings]

[Fic] Raindrops

Title: Raindrops Pairing: George WeasleyxReader Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: PG Length: 576 words

You watched as the rain fell from underneath the roof of your home and sighed. It seems that due to the weather, George won’t be showing up for your date after all.

Maybe your sister was right, you were much too unattractive to be with someone like him. Maybe he does deserve someone better than you, someone beautiful like your sister. Maybe-

Your thoughts were cut off when a form appeared in the horizon, running through the puddles and getting soaked to the bone as the umbrella he held in his hand failed to cover his form. The man reached your porch steps and looked up; grinning through his wet bangs towards you, while struggling to catch his breathe.

You could only stare at him in shock before reaching forward and grabbing his clothed, wet arm, pulling him under the cover of your roof, safe from the raindrops.

“George! What are you doing!” You quickly pulled his arm to bring him inside, but he just shakes his head, a grin still pasted on his face.

“I came for our date, of course!”

“Its raining cats and dogs out there! You could have gotten sick! Or-or wors-“

“I just had to see you today,” He smiles and you just shake your head smiling, though still worried.

“Oh, George, you could have called or post-poned it or.. you could have even owled me or something! You didn’t have to come,”

He just smiles and pecks your cheek causing you to blush and him to chuckle.

“I wanted to. And besides, there’s something I need to tell you,”

You give him a worried stare which just causes him to smile and pull you out in the rain, under the cover of his umbrella. He leads you over to a spot on the grass and hands you the umbrella.

“Here, hold this,” Confused, you accept the umbrella and watched as he fumbles with something in his jacket.

“Listen, [Name],” he turns and looks at you, raising his free hand to your cheek. It was cold, but comforting at the same time and you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“All the time we spent together, from the moment I met you till now, was something I will never regret nor will I want to. I loved every single moment you were with me and I’d love it even more if you’d be willing to spend the rest of your life with me. So, I guess what I’m saying is,”

He pauses and kneels on the ground on one leg, his hand pulling away from your cheek and reaching in his pocket to grab a box. You could only stand there, stunned as he opens the box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring and continues.

"[First name] [Last Name]... Will you marry me?” The umbrella drops from your hand and lands on the ground a few ways away from the two of you, forgotten as you leapt into his arms, hugging him and murmuring ‘Yes! Yes! Yes, godamnit!’ he chuckles and pulls his head away and presses his lips into yours. You kiss him back before pulling away to wipe some tears running down your face, a joyful smile on your face.

He hugs you tightly before pulling away long enough to put the ring on your left ring finger before his lips are on yours again.

Screw what your sister thinks! The two of you were a match made in heaven!

[hexbees]

buildup to dating draco headcanons!

a/n:: my own personal headcanons for our boy draco! obvi you can think or feel however you want!

draco would greet you with a sarcastic smile or wave. not condescending, just overly joyous.

"Hey! Hello! HI! Y/N! HI!" hand flailing and all.

obnoxiously touching you (at anyyy chance)

knocking knees on purpose, brushing his shoulders against you when he has to reach for something. CALLING YOU SMALL SO HE CAN COMPARE HAND SIZES!!!

he loves nothing more than meanly flirting with you.

"You're so fucking annoying, its cute."

he thinks you look so attractive when you're irritated (literally eggs you on so you'll get riled up)

"Ew, why are you wearing red?"

"Malfoy! I'm not changing again!" you'd furrow your eyes at him, clearly annoyed.

"You look better in green, please. I cannot be seen anywhere near you in this dress."

"Good! I'll avoid you all night, no problem." you'd turn your back on him, only making his grin grow bigger.

"It's a problem for me."

he loves all the attention you get (from guys and girls) it makes his heart swell with pride knowing everyone else sees you as he does.

"Damn, y/n looks good even in red." blaise would say, leaned against a wall in the common room while a party ensues.

"Of course she does"

while he's been propositioned by girls in the past, he never hesitates to brush them off and decline. he couldn't imagine anyone ever captivating him like you do.

"Why don't you walk me back to m-"

"Huh?" he literally didn't hear her, focusing on the giggles you're letting out ten feet away from him.

"Wanna go back to my roo-"

"No" without even turning his head to see who asked.

he helps you with your books after shared classes only to hold them over his head so he can look down at you struggling to reach them.

"You fucking beanpole, give them back!" you'd bounce on the balls of your feet, resting one hand on his shoulder hoping to reach higher.

"Why would I do that when you look so cute all mad?"

he purposefully cuts you off in group conversations just to watch you puff your cheeks and huff.

"Like, what the fuck? He gave me an E! An E! I deserved at least-"

"Do you want a biscuit? There's one left."

"No, Draco. Don't inter-"

"Are you sure? It's the last one."

"Draco, shut up!"

he calls you pet names because he knows it annoys you and likes that you say them back, thinking it annoys him too.

"Hey, mon amour."

"Good morning, mon cher." you'd roll your eyes while he grinned.

he catches you looking at him with a glint in your eye but ignores it because he knows if you noticed that he noticed, you'd stop. (though he would love to see you embarrassed over being caught)

he tries to drop hints, hoping you'd catch on, but you never do. leaving him annoyed with himself for not sucking it up and fully committing to asking you out.

"I feel like going to Hogsmeade, maybe getting a butterbeer."

"We can see if anyone else wants to go when they get back from the library."

"Mm but they might be a while. You and I can just go, together."

"Well, I wouldn't want them to feel left out."

[hexbees]

draco "please invite me" malfoy | texts

i love imagining draco as a friend thats obviously a dick to outsiders but begggggssss to be included in stuff so he wont miss anything fun

requests are open via owl!

[hexbees]

Draco notices you

pairing:: oblivious!nice!draco x slytherin!reader

summary:: you had shared potions with draco since first year but he doesnt notice you until sixth word count:: 731 a/n:: no voldemort so no oncoming war! dracos just a dumb dumb and oblivious. no use of y/n!

Stress burrowed its way into your brows as you stepped into Slughorns NEWT potions class. You scored an O on your OWLs and only feared the amount of work you'll have to put into the next exams. Ranking high in your year has always been important, not only to you but your parents as well. The thought alone is enough to settle a hunch on your shoulders. 

You at least felt good about being able to pick the table directly in the middle row, as not all the students had arrived yet. Slughorn was drowning on his greetings from his podium as the room filled. By the time your advanced potions book was situated perfectly center in front of you most spots had been taken besides the one left empty at your table.

When you felt the stool move back as the professor started his introduction it didn't even interest you to see who you’d be stuck with. It had never mattered in the past, you'd even lucked out with lab partners, most people adjoining themselves to their friends. It wasn't until Slughorn finished his speech that you'd taken the time to check what other sixth years had made it into the course. Only a few you could place names on; Harry potter (of course) and his red-haired friend. While most Slytherins had a vendetta against the young wizard he’d only ever been kind to you, so you sent him a smile that he returned with an awkward wave.

“Are you friends with Potter?” The voice came from your side, held a curious tone and sent pinpricks across your skin.

“No, actually. Just being kind.” You didn't take the time to look, you barely recognized the voice and it's not like you had real friends. Especially none that would be in this class with you.

“You're a Slytherin?”

That caught your attention. Six years at Hogwarts and it still surprised people that you could be naturally nice, it was almost aggravating. While most Slytherins dove straight into the stereotypes and embraced them, you never found the time. It took effort to be rude and even more effort to be a typical Slytherin bully.

“Mm” You hummed, finally turning to face the person. “As are you, Malfoy.”

His head tilted the slightest and his lips tugged loosely at the ends. He thought it was cute you’d still be kind while also being a little condescending.

“Are you new?” His pale eyebrows furrowed a little. He genuinely has never seen you before, at least he didn't think he had.

“Nope.” You let it fall from your mouth in the same tone as before, “I sat behind you in potions the last five years, actually.” It wasn't unusual for most students to be unaware of your presence. You'd flown under the radar most years, avoiding drama and parties. You'd spent time studying and reading for fun more than you did conversing amongst everyone else.

His brows only furrowed deeper, “Surely I'd remember that.” You could practically hear the gears screeching as they spun in his head, “Wait,” he snapped his fingers and smiled. If you looked close enough you could see the small dimple that adorned his cheek cutely. “You beat out Granger for, like, every potion assignment. Snape loved you.”

His statement brought your mood up just a bit as you smiled at him, bringing your hands together in your lap.

“Good to know my intelligence precedes me.”

His smile never faltered as he chuckled. “I can't believe we’ve never interacted before” His hair fell to the sides as he shook his head, almost in disbelief. 

Slughorn gained attention of the class again and before you knew it you had your first homework assignment at the top of your mental list while packing up your bag.

Draco tapped two fingers on the table in front of you, smiling when you looked up at him with a hum.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” He questioned, “I sit at the end closest to the professors table.” He made it sound like an invitation and you nodded your head quicker than you'd ever admit. His smile only grew at your response as he nodded back.

As you rose to your feet and followed the last of the students through the threshold of the class you couldn't help the giddy smile breaking out across your face.

[hexbees]

draco "i have a gun" malfoy | texts

i love dramatic!draco more than life itself

do not worry about what goes through my mind when i sleep

requests are open via owl!

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

re-edited this one too!

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Chapter 1.2 - Train Rides and Talking Hats

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.” Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.” “Same goes for you.”’ OR: in which you hitch a ride on the Hogwarts Express and buckle up for one hell of a ride. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Perhaps, if you had any less self-respect, having had a mental breakdown on the King’s Cross platform would have been your morning on the 1st of September.

The train leaves at eleven, Hagrid had told you. The Caddels had dropped you off at the station at half past ten before leaving to drop Odette off at her new school, Smeltings, they’d said. All you were really aware of was the nifty cane that came with the uniform, supposedly used to thwack fellow peers. An excellent training for later life.

Regardless of peculiar apparels or uniforms – you had now acquired a steadily rising fear that you would never be able to wear your own, if you couldn’t uncover where exactly platform nine and three-quarters was located at the station. 

There they were, right in front of you, platforms nine and ten – right there – but nowhere could you spot any semblance or notion of anything three-quarters related. The large plastic number nine leered tauntingly at you, swinging back and forth vaguely with the passing breeze.

You had pestered the guard manning the station. He hadn’t even heard of Hogwarts, and since you had no flying clue where or even what the school was, you couldn’t describe it to him. The guard stared at you incredulously, as though you were deliberately trying to be stupid (you didn’t miss how he eyed Hedwig, your owl, who chirped irritably back at him). It took every ounce of your remaining willpower to not snap or lunge at him and cause a scene in the middle of the station, especially when a congregation of people had formed a circle around you to observe the exchange curiously.

Apparently, according to a variety of people at the station, there wasn’t even a train that left at eleven o’clock. And, though it was obvious, platform nine and three-quarters completely did not exist. Like, at all. And to top the cherry on your fabulous sundae of anxiety and chagrin, according to the large clock situated on the arrivals board, you had a little under fifteen minutes to be seated on the train. 

You wished Hagrid had left you with more information, but when the man had dropped you back at your house and allowed you the time to blink, he had vanished. Urgent magical business, you mused dryly. Almost like the kerfuffle of being stranded on a station with not the foggiest idea of where to go. 

Were you missing something? Did you need to cast a spell? What if you missed the train? Oh, you knew you should have read the books before coming to the station. You swore at that moment to leave no page in your spell-books unturned (in hindsight, you knew you would drop this vow three days in).

Just as you were preparing to brandish your wand at the stray ticket box next to platform nine, trying your very best to formulate a spell that would divulge the presence of platform nine and three-quarters. 

In a perfectly timed turn of events, a group of people passed behind you, and you managed to glean a glimpse of their conversation.

“ – packed with Muggles, of course –

You heard your neck crack from how fast you wheeled around. Muggles. You had never been happier to hear a single word. The speaker was a stout woman, to an audience of about five red-headed children. Four boys and a girl, who from the conversation that ensued, you discovered was too young to attend Hogwarts just yet. 

You trained your eyes on them like a hawk, shadowing ‘Percy’, the oldest boy, as he dashed toward the brick wall of platform nine, pushing his trolley along with him. Wincing, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him and all of his school supplies crash onto the floor. 

Miraculously, however, when you peeled your eyelids back open, the boy was gone. As were the twin brothers, Fred and George (or did their mother say George and Fred?). 

There was only one more boy left; a tall – though that entire family seemed to be on stilts – lanky, deeply freckled one. If you wanted to know where the sons were disappearing to, this was your final shot.

“Hey!” you called out, dragging your trolley behind you as you approached the remaining members of the red-headed family. Then, realising how the abruptness of a random girl yelling at someone may be perceived as abrash, you decided to dial back your advances. “Hi, sorry. Do you happen to know how to –” “How to get on to the platform?” she said kindly. “No worries at all, dear. Is this your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” 

She pointed at her last son. He had dirt on his nose. You nodded your head slightly toward him in greeting, but your mind was still hyper focused on how the clock was dwindling closer and closer to eleven. “Pleasure,” you smiled, desperation beginning to blemish your voice, evident as it began to inch one or two octaves higher. “So, er, I’m hoping that you do know how to get to the train?” “That’s right,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Go on, go now before Ron.”

You ruffled the collar of your shirt, which was looking far too neat and sophisticated (and therefore, not nearly as charming as you preferred it to be). “Thanks, Miss.” 

You sucked in a deep breath before gathering your courage and sprinted toward the very solid, opaque looking barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. 

You were running — running like a lunatic, might you add, when you realised you were almost there — and then, quite suddenly, you weren’t. 

Rather, you now found yourself underneath a sign that read Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock.

Permeating through a brick wall was yet another box to check from your list of magical experiences. Twice, actually, if you counted the entrance to Diagon Alley. Odd was it indeed, but it was your odd now, and you lest would allow anyone try and rob you of it. 

You stood in awe, head on a swivel as you examined the new environment. A mammoth of a train, one whose size could only be attributed to the slight of one’s magical hand, with smoke seeping out of its charcoal chimneys, stood tall against the crowded stage of the station. 

You turned around to see if the red-headed family had made it through as well, and sure enough, there they were. The woman was still looking at you, and when you waved at her, her face split into a soft smile as she returned the gesture. You swept your dishevelled hair to the side – it had tousled itself into a heaping mess sometime during your episode on the other side of the train station. 

You only registered the consequence of this action when the red-headed woman’s eyes widened, and as an abrupt muteness circulated throughout the platform, capitulating the vocal cords of what seemed to be every single man, woman and/or child present there at that very moment. 

Families that were once bidding their children goodbye, lovingly caressing cheeks or smoothing down fly-away hairs, or families who were once loading trunks onto compartments, were now reacting in an identical fashion of the same scene that had transpired at the leaky pub; normal chatter was extinguished, and murmurs crept around the platform like an amateur thief in a treasure trove.

“The lightning scar!”

“Is that – oh, my sweet Merlin, it is!” “Oh – where –?!”

“Move! Let me get a glimpse!”

“Look, over there!”

“(Y/n) (L/n)!”

You stiffened under everyone’s combined gazes, the hasty switch of focus to you catching you off guard. But, as quickly as the alarm had rippled into your body, it had dispersed out. 

A smirk split your face, and you nodded toward the woman closest to you (who promptly went pink and near-fainted) as a way to acknowledge that you acknowledged their sudden interest in you. You heard someone chuckle at the sight, and a few more flurries of whispers were burgeoned from other by-standers.

During the time it took for you to jostle your trolley into an empty carriage near the back of the train, the number of people actively tracking your every move had died down, though only by a fraction. From the corners of your eyes, you could still see the odd third-year trying to estimate how many laces you had on your shoes, no doubt so he could pester his parents into buying the same pair. (You kept to yourself that they had previously belonged to Odette, however, as you seriously doubted anyone wanted to know that (Y/n) (L/n), hero of the wizarding world, still wore hand-me-downs.)

Unfortunately, it seemed that although you possessed the power to terminate the reign of the darkest and most powerful wizards in history, you had apparently not attained the muscles required to heave your trunk up the stairs onto the Hogwarts Express. You stumbled back, cursing as you reeled from the pain that rocketed through your foot after you dropped your trunk on your toes.

“Want a hand?” 

You looked up. It was one of the red-headed twins, from that family you had met before.

“Yes,” you said almost immediately. “Er, please.”

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

The three of you managed to successfully store your trunk into the corner of your compartment. Before you could thank the twins for their help, though, one of the twins pointed at the spot on your forehead where the thin lightning-shaped scar donned your skin. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n),” he announced. Just like Olivander, this had not been a question, but rather a statement.

“Yes,” you straightened your posture, raising your head a little higher. “That’s right. I am.”

The two boys gawked at you, and you subtly swept your sweaty hair to expose the scar even further. To your slightest dismay, however, the familiar voice of the red-headed mother drifted through the carriage before you were able to elaborate further on your tale of the lightning-shaped battle scar.

“Fred? George? Are you there?” Both the twins groaned at their mother’s summoning. Sparing one last glance at you, they ambled toward her call. “Coming, Mum.” You waved the twins goodbye. Sitting down by the window, you ducked your head so you could listen to the family, who were still on the platform, whilst being half-hidden at the same time. Their mother had scourged out a handkerchief and was furiously scrubbing at Ron’s nose to rid the smudge of dirt that laid upon it.

You watched with amusement as Ron tried to lurch away before being caught in his mother’s iron-fisted clutches once again.

“Mum – geroff!”

One of the twins snickered, leaning close to Ron. “Aaaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” 

“Shut up!” You saw the oldest of the red-headed siblings saunter towards his family, already draped in his robes. A shiny red and gold badge was pinned onto his chest, with the letter P engraved onto it.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said stiffly. “I’m up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –”

“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?” One of the twins gasped, bringing his hands to his face in disbelief. “You should have said something, we had no idea.” “Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it, once –”

“Or twice –”

“A minute –”

“All summer –”

You huffed a laugh at the back and forth going between the family. Percy the Prefect’s face was starting to sport a lovely bright, irritable shade of red. 

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” queried one of the twins.

“Because he’s a Prefect,” their mother smoothed Percy’s already-perfectly-smoothened hair fondly. “All right, dear, well have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.” 

She sent him off with a kiss. 

You sunk back into your seat. For some reason, the jovial atmosphere you’d felt upon discovering the magical platform had now become strangely dampened. 

Call it a moment of weakness, sure – but in that moment, you wished that you could have a mother. A mother who would dote on you like that or who would comfort you. 

But, as soon as that looming train of thoughts had festered, you vanquished them from your mind – the other kids could keep their affectionate mothers who waved them goodbye as they left, the same, in fact, would go for their superficial, gentle-natured fathers; you had your fame and that topped any shred of whatever they may have had, whatever you were missing!

As though the red-head family were suddenly attuned with your train of thought, you heard the voice of the youngest child, the girl, pipe up. “Oh! (Y/n) (L/n) On the train? Please can I go see her, Mum, please, please, please…”

“You’ve already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?” “Asked her. Saw the scar. It’s really there – like lightning.”

“Poor dear.” 

Your fingers traced the pattern of the scar, not particularly liking the feeling of pity emanating from the family.

“No wonder she was alone. I wondered. She was ever enthusiastic, though, when she asked how to get on to the platform. I’d have thought she’d be scared, by herself…”

“Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”

The red-headed mother swelled. “I forbid you to ask her that, Fred! No, don’t you dare. As though she needs reminding of –... ”

The disarrayed ruckus of another family hurriedly barrelling onto the platform, and ushering their boy onto the train, stripped your focus from the ginger group. 

Observing the mop of black hair, you realised pleasantly that it was the boy you had met at the Quidditch store that day in Diagon Alley. Closely behind him, a stressed looking woman with copper-coloured hair, followed him briskly onto the train. Your lips twitched as you noticed that she possessed the same brilliant green eyes as her son. 

The father, a carbon copy of his son, followed seconds after, carrying a tremendously large trunk onto the train. There was one more man – perhaps one of the uncles the boy had mentioned – who remained on the platform. You guessed that he was allowing the family their final moments together. He didn’t really look alike to the mother or father of Quidditch Boy’s family, so you presumed that he was probably an uncle by choice, not blood. He had sandy brown hair with substantially sized scars running down the entirety of his face and neck. There was a large, shaggy black dog beside him too, and you swore that it had winked when it saw you looking at the group.

A shrill burst of steam raged outwards from the chimney of the train. You guessed that this was a warning to families that the train was about to depart right now. True to your word, just as Quidditch Boy’s mother and father practically leapt off the train carriage they’d left their son in, the train doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began dutifully chugging forward. 

Left behind now, was the platform of nine and three-quarters.

Leaning back in your seat, you exhaled roughly. This was it, the moment that marked the beginning of your journey into Hogwarts. You had no clue where you were going, but you just knew it would be good. A grand moment, you were sure, but what you were also sure of was that the next few hours on the train (or possibly days or months, who knew?) would result in you being bored out of your mind. Stuck in an empty carriage by yourself with no one to talk to – tragic – maybe it would do you some good if you popped down into one of the other carriages and try to find some other first-years.

Coincidentally, the door of the compartment was opened by none other than Quidditch Boy himself. His hair was askew, glasses lopsided and cheeks clearly flushed from the rush of trying to scramble onto the Hogwarts Express before it departed. He did not have his trunk with him, so his father was probably able to store it in time.

“Hey, again,” he flashed you a bashful smile. “Would it be alright if I could sit here with you?”

“Sure, no problem.” 

You observed him as he took the seat opposite you. He was already wearing robes of sorts, not the Hogwarts ones, judging from the lack of school emblem, but the sorts that you hypothesised would be the wizarding equivalent to a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Er,” he started, causing you to look over at him. “It’s nice to see you. Again.” “Yeah.” you agreed with him, offering a lopsided smile. “Great. To meet you.” 

“Yep.”

The compartment fell into a highly awkward silence, one that you were not at all familiar with. Back with the Caddels, or even at your previous school, you had no problem whatsoever making friends with strangers. In fact, conversation came easily to you – you weren’t the most popular girl in the grade for no reason, after all. So the stuffiness invading the atmosphere was most definitely unwelcome, and honestly, unnatural.

Thankfully the awkward cloud hanging above you and Quidditch Boy dissipated abruptly when the compartment door slid open again, revealing the tall, freckled, ginger boy. The other first-year you’d spoken to: Ron.

His eyes widened when he saw you sitting in front of him. “Uh – sorry, anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Quidditch Boy shook his head and Ron took the seat beside them, so they were both facing you. Ron’s gaze hadn’t settled and he kept on glancing toward you and then toward the window whenever he made eye contact with you. It was amusing, his discomfort, from how often he did it.

“Hey, Ron.” The red-headed twins popped into the compartment suddenly. “Listen, we’re going back down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” said the youngest sibling.

So we’re not going to question the spider. Seems good.

“(Y/n),” the other twin, the one who hadn’t been talking to Ron, turned to you. “And other Kid,” referring to Quidditch Boy, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. Anyways, see you later, then.” The three of you said bye in unison as the twins left.

As soon as they were gone, Ron blurted out, “Can we see the scar?” You blinked at him, and he went pink. Though, you complied either way (as you had no qualms to showing off the lightning-shaped bolt). Pulling your hair back, the scar on your forehead was revealed to Quidditch Boy and Ron.

“Wow,” breathed out Quidditch Boy. “It really does look like lightning.”

Ron was equally stunned. “So that’s where You-Know-Who – ?”

“Yes.” You grinned brightly at their awed expressions. They stared at you a couple seconds longer before Ron diverted his attention quickly back to the greenery flitting through the window.

“So, is your whole family magic then?” you asked Ron out of curiosity. 

You already knew that Quidditch Boy’s father was a pure-blood and his mother was a muggle-born, whatever that meant; you weren’t going to be the one to say you had no idea what those were.

“Quidditch Boy?” puzzled Quidditch Boy, eyebrows furrowing. 

Ah, had you said that outloud? Whoops.

You laughed, bringing a hand to your nape. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, so I’ve just, kinda, resorted to calling you Quidditch Boy in my mind.”

“Oh, well, I’m, uh, Harry. Harry Potter.” said the boy, smiling at you once more. 

You slouched further into your seat. “Nice to meet ya then, Harry Potter.”

Ron interjected into the conversation, for which you were grateful. The ginger boy seemed to hold the power of evaporating awkwardness with a snap of his freckled fingers. “Pure-blooded means that everyone on his father’s side is magic. I’m the same – everyone in my family is a wizard, well maybe except for my mum’s second cousin who’s an accountant, but we don’t really talk about him.”

“I get it,” you said, cupping your chin with your hand. “I’ve got no clue what I am. But I know that my father had no magic.”

“A muggle,” Ron nodded appreciatively. “Well, basically everyone knows that your mother was a pure-blood, though. That makes you a half-blood like him, since you’re a mix I guess.” He pointed at Harry. You were slightly startled that he knew more about your family and lineage than you did yourself. Maybe you should get used to people knowing more about you than you did yourself.

“A muggle-born’s a witch or wizard who was born from muggle parents,” continued Ron.

You tilted your head to the side. “Where does their magic come from, if they’ve got no magical blood or whatever?”

Ron looked partially affronted. “Who knows, – magic isn’t exactly something that comes in a nice little package that gets delivered to you when the time is right! All I know is that if you’ve got magic, then you’ve got it. That’s all there is to it, really.” He waved his hands about in the air for further emphasis. This was probably a topic Ron was passionate about, as you noticed his ears flushing red under the combined blank stares of you and Harry. You ponderedthat if Ron were to ever wear something salmon-coloured, it would definitely wash him out. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his face and his left knee.

You tried to recover from the painful silence. “Thanks, that clears it up. You two must know loads of magic then.” 

“Not nearly enough as my mum wants me to,” said Harry.

“Hear, hear,” mumbled Ron.

“Huh. Guess that’s one good thing that comes out of being an orphan. No pushy mother for me!” You chuckled at the uncomfortable looks on the boys’ faces. 

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron, scratching the back of his neck. “What’re they like?” “Alright,” you shrugged. “Not outstandingly nice or anything, but they do their job. Would be cooler to have wizarding brothers like you though.”

“Not if you’ve got five of them.” answered Ron gloomily. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes and Charlie’s old wand. I wanted an owl, but they couldn't aff – I mean, they got Percy one instead for becoming a Prefect.”

Ron’s ears went pink again. Your brain, it seemed, was temporarily delayed and was not able to formulate a response to that.

“I’m sure you’ll do better than all your brothers combined,” said Harry. 

Ron smiled gratefully at him. 

As the train rolled onward and your surroundings grew greener, you, quite helpfully, took Hedwig’s cage and placed her on the centre of the table, announcing that the first one to get nipped whilst feeding her treats would be declared the ultimate ‘Loser Lord and/or Lordess.’ Hedwig loved you, so obviously she went ham whenever the two boys got close to her in order to secure your victory.

The three of you fell into an easy conversation after that, and you barely even realised how much time had passed until a smiling, old-looking woman popped her head into the compartment and said “anything off the trolley, dears?”

With that lovely gesture, you had leapt out of your seat and essentially pounced onto the food she was offering. Your pockets were lined with wizard money now, an infinite stash really, and so there was nothing stopping you from buying multiples of everything she had. As such, you, Harry and Ron had to literally struggle and drag back the food you’d hoarded, before dumping it on the table.

“Hungry, are you?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows at the pile of snacks that was nearly as tall as him.

“Starving,” you grinned back.

You, Harry and Ron tore into the pasties and cakes, the mountain rapidly diminishing by the second. There was one incident with a chocolate frog creeping into Hedwig’s cage before getting mauled by her talons. The card that supposedly came with the treat, had also been destroyed, so Harry had given his to you. One with a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore, who had waved politely at your stunned expression.

Once you’d moved onto Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, you found a lot of enjoyment when Ron had the misfortune of coming across a bean that tasted like dirty socks. Though, your amusement at Ron’s plight had been adjourned with the appearance of a round-faced boy.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

“No, sorry.”

You were taken aback when the boy promptly burst into tears. “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!” “He’ll turn up,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said the boy, turning away dejectedly. “Well, if you see him…”

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” remarked Ron once the boy had left. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could.”

You deadpanned at him. “You haven’t even got any pets to lose, Ron. I’m betting that if you ever got one, you’d have even worse attachment issues than Toad-Boy.” “Mind you,” said Harry, talking around his mouthful of Cauldron Cake. “That’s saying a lot.”

“What’ve you got then?” asked Ron, turning his head to glare at Harry. “You seem awfully high and mighty for someone who probably doesn’t even have anything at all.”

“I’ve got a dog,” defended Harry. “Snuffles.” You stifled a giggle. “Snuffles? No way you named your dog that!” “I didn’t pick the name!”

“A dog’s not as good as an owl anyways,” you teased.

“I’d beg to differ – my dog totally is,” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms. “Plus you don’t even need to have an owl – the school’s got its own aviary shock-full of ‘em that you can send letters with.”

“One day, I’m gonna get an owl.” Ron sighed dreamily. “Just for myself, I wouldn’t have to share with Fred or George or Percy or Ginny.”

“Who’s Ginny?”

Before Ron could express the identity of this ‘Ginny’, the compartment door was opened by a bushy-haired girl whose face was wrinkled up irritably. Toad-Boy also made a reappearance.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” 

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening. Rather, she had been staring at you. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n).” she declared matter-of-factly. “I saw you at the station. I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

Ron gaped at her and Harry blinked a few times repeatedly.

“Be surprised if I wasn’t,” you said, winking cheekily. You also had no idea what she was talking about though.

She studied you appraisingly before asking Ron and Harry “and who are you?”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure. Well, I’m Hermione Granger. I was ever so pleased when I got my letter to Hogwarts, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all of our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough.”

All three pairs of eyebrows furrowed in synchronisation. You, personally, had only caught about one-third of what she had been saying since she’d been basically rapping out her words. 

Herminkoni (was that what she said her name was?) began talking again. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyay, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Herpes Motion thus turned around and left, taking Toad-Boy with her.

“Well,” you announced cheerfully. “She was nice.” “Sure,” muttered Ron, reaching for a Treacle Tart. 

“She was right about one thing though,” said Harry, grinning and brushing his hair out of his face. “Gryffindor, by far, is definitely the best house.”

“Who’s Gryffindor?” you squinted your eyes at him. Ron attempted an exasperated face-palm with his left hand (he was still holding the tart in his right). Harry laughed at this, before proceeding to explain the four houses to you.

Gryffindor had been the house Ron’s and Harry’s families had gotten into. The house of the brave, it was known for. Ravenclaw, the house for smart people (you had a feeling you would not be getting into that); Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal and well-meaning. And finally, there was Slytherin. Both Ron and Harry detested the green-and-silver clad house, for it had been the house to pump out the most dark witches and wizards.

“Ah,” you said. “So naturally, we should hate that house, since that was the one Voldemort was – ” “Woah,” interrupted Ron, looking impressed. “You just said his name.” “Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a name. Anyways, I’m guessing that you both want Gryffindor then?”

“Of course!” Ron puffed out his chest. 

“Hey,” Harry began, rubbing your chin. “Have you — ”

Unfortunately, whatever Harry had wanted to ask had been interrupted by the compartment door sliding open again. 

This time, it was a group of three – the ringleader being a sallow-faced, gauntly blonde boy. The other two were giant-sized, goliath looking boys who looked like his bodyguards. And, of course, they were all fixated on you. (But then again, why wouldn’t they be?)

“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that (Y/n) (L/N)’s in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. He waved his hand carelessly at the two body-doubles next to him. “This is Crabbe and that’s Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron choked on his treacle tart, but you suspected that may have been him trying to disguise a sneer. Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes on Ron.

“Think my name’s funny, do you?” he sneered, causing your hackles to raise immediately. “No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” 

Ron’s face went pink again and he sunk into his seat. 

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry, but before he could say something about his family, you cut him off.

“Oi,” you spoke, feeling your jaw clench at the blond boy’s demeanour. “I’d watch what I was saying if I was you, especially considering the crap that’s spewing outta your sewage-system of a mouth.”

Draco Malfoy turned his sharpened gaze toward you. “And I’d be more careful if I was you. You don’t want to make enemies with the wrong people.”

“Same goes for you.” 

You stared down Draco Malfoy. Harry was glancing back and forth between the two of you, and he looked ready to stand up if this altercation escalated.

“You don’t get to come in here and poke fun at us,” you muttered slowly. “Especially, if you want to be on good terms with me.”

His cheeks tinged a faint pink. “Not like I would want to be friends with the likes of you.” He placed the emphasis on ‘you’ the same way you did for ‘me’.

You, Harry and Ron all stood up. 

“I think it’d be best if you left.” you gritted out, disliking the boy less and less by every twitch of his rat-like face.

Unfortunately for you, Malfoy’s rattish face had broken out into a sneer. “You’ll regret making enemies out of me, (L/n). I promise you that much.”

He furiously spun around and out of the carriage, but not before he could shoot you a final scathing look. Crabbe and Goyle chased after him, robes billowing out from behind them.

“What a buffoon,” you huffed angrily.

“Agreed,” said Harry, still glaring at the door.

“I’ve heard of his family before,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” “‘Specially if they thought it was the winning side,” added Harry.

The door opened before you could open your mouth. There was Hermit Yeti, yet again, standing at the entrance.

“What has been going on? Why did I just see three boys bolting out of this compartment?” She looked you up and down. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“They were the ones starting it – not us!” defended Ron, scowling at her.

“All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” she said sniffly. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know that?”

“Thank you,” you interjected, glaring at her on behalf of Ron. “Could you leave now?”

And finally, Herm-onion left.

If you had to guess, it had been only an hour after that when the train had pulled to a stop. You had slipped on your robes, ensuring that they still had your signature wind-swept appearance about them. Ron and Harry were also wearing their school robes now too. The three of you stuffed your pockets with the remaining sweets before you left the train.

Hopping out of the train and onto the station, you were delighted to be met with the familiar, wild face of Hagrid, the giant-man. 

“Firs’-years! Firs-years over here! All right there, (Y/n)?” He beamed at you from under his scraggly beard.

You waved enthusiastically at him. 

The first-years, it looked like, had their own means of reaching the school, which involved travelling in groups of four in a little boat across a lake. You, Harry, Ron and the bushy-haired girl (to your displeasure) took a boat close to the front.

Whilst you did not dislike the girl, you weren’t fond of her tendency to huff or be bossy, especially when she did it toward Ron (which you found she did often). Harry hadn’t done anything to get into her wrong books, and nor vice versa, so they were probably on the most amicable terms between your little trio.

The boats glided in unison across the great body of water, before coming to a stop at the front of the school’s castle. You could hardly hear Toad-Boy’s reunion with his toad (“Trevor”) amongst the excited buzzing in your ears.

The gaggle of first-years came to a stop at the entrance of Hogwarts, a ginormous wooden castle door. Hagrid raised his fist and rapped three times on it. 

The door opened immediately. There was a stern, grey-haired witch standing behind it. She was sifting through the crowd intensely, and her gaze did not linger on your scar like how most peoples’ did.

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” The door was opened further and you streamed into the Entrance Hall. The entire school was huge, you realised, and was very elaborately decorated – like something you would read in a book. Flaming torches illuminated the corridor. The first-years were pulled into a little room, next to a place where you could hear the rest of the school talking.

It was then you noticed that Ron appeared quite pale under his freckles and that Harry was fiddling with his fingers. In fact, every first-year seemed to be exhibiting some sort of nervous tick, apart from Malfoy, who was rolling his eyes for some reason. 

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion. Should you have been scared too? It wasn’t like they were going to force you to fight each other or anything right? At least, that’s what you hoped. Although, you definitely knew that if they made you fight, you’d win.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and speed free time in your house common room.

She continued giving a debrief of the houses, but as it was something you had already heard from Harry and Ron, it wasn’t anything new. You fidgeted restlessly, wanting to get onto the Sorting already.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered on your messy hair and ruffled collar, as one lapel stuck upwards. 

Once she left, you turned to Harry and Ron. “What do they do to get us into these houses? Is it like a test? Based on how you answer, that’s where you get in? Like, ‘what is the square root of sixteen?’”

“That’s probably only good for finding Ravenclaws and non-Ravenclaws though,” said Ron, taking you seriously. “My brothers said it was a test too, though. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harry was looking more unsettled by the minute. 

“Hey,” you said, patting his shoulder, mistaking his expression as anxiousness. “Don’t be nervous. I’m sure Ron’s brothers are just messing with us.” “Me too,” confirmed Ron.

“But,” Harry’s green eyes met yours. “A test? I didn’t know we had to do a test. In front of the whole school? I can barely do two spells, how will they sort me with that? I— I didn’t think — I mean, my dad said— I thought it had something to do with a ha –”

“Listen,” you began, patting his shoulder. “That’s already two more spells than I know, and probably most of the first-years too. That Malfoy kid included.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the said blonde boy, before returning them to Harry. “Don’t worry, alright? Test or not, I’m sure we'll all do great. Probably.” 

Beside you, Ron nodded in agreement (although it looked like his skin was also beginning to reach a sickly pale green colour).

“You’re right,” said Harry, and you were pleased to see that he was a fraction less scared than he was a moment ago. Although he did still look a tad bit confused.

Anyways, moving onto more pressing matters. You didn’t bother with ‘smartening yourself up.’ You were already pretty smart enough, in your opinion. Having bested the darkest wizard of the age at a meagre one year of age didn’t come to just anyone, you know?

After a whole debacle with some ghosts or something flying in to greet you before the ceremony, Professor McGonagall entered the room once more. You all trudged in a single-file line into the Great Hall.

You gaped openly at the Great Hall, which looked even bigger than the Entrance. Four long tables were lain across the room, with golden plates and goblets sitting on each. The students were segregated by houses, indicated by the colour of their robes and ties. There were also several candles floating in the air, which was pretty sweet too. Oh, and the roof looked like the sky as well. 

Professor McGongagall placed a three-legged stool in front of school, and then she placed a rusty-looking hat on top of it. You deadpanned when it broke into song, and even more when everyone burst into applause once it finished.

“So, we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whisper-yelled to you and Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!” Harry gave him an unsure smile, and said “I tried telling you it was just a weird hat. You threw me off with the test talk.”

Professor McGonagall approached the stool, unravelling a long roll of parchment paper. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

Hannah stumbled from the crowd of first-years and toward the professor. She placed the hat on her head and after a moment of silence, the hat shouted out “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right, with the yellow-and-black clad students, the house of Hufflepuff, cheered and hollered as Hannah went to join them.

‘Bones, Susan’ went up next and she too went to Hufflepuff. ‘Boot, Terry’ went to Ravenclaw, and ‘Brown Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor. The cheering from the red table was definitely the loudest, especially when right after ‘Bulstrode Millicent’ was sorted in Slytherin and all she got was only a polite and semi-subdued applause from her new house.

A few more people went, and then, so did ‘Granger, Hermione’ (so that was her name) who sat on the stool for a precariously long period of time before being sent to Gryffindor. Ron groaned. Toad-Boy (Longbottom, Neville!) got Gryffindor too, but somehow, he was on the stool for even longer than Hermione.

You were raising your hand to scratch at the itch in your ear when your name was called. 

As you stepped forward, the students in the Hall started to whisper loudly, just as they had done at the station.

“(L/n), did she say?” “The (Y/n) (L/n)?” Those comments did not help the rising ego blooming inside of you. You swaggered over the stool and sat down. Your fingers delicately gripped the brim of the hat. The fabric felt ragged and old underneath your fingertips. You brought the Sorting Hat down toward your –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat had barely scraped the fly-away hairs on your head when it shrieked out. 

The Great Hall was silent for a few, stunned moments, taken aback by your instantaneous sorting. You stared back at them with wide eyes, darting downwards to look at Harry and Ron. They were wide-eyed too, before the dam of silence was broken, and they beamed gigantic smiles at you, alongside the entirety of the Gryffindor table erupting into cheers – louder cheers than for any of the people before you. 

You felt a warm glow in your chest. You looked around the table, and saw many friendly faces. Percy the Prefect had dived over the table (almost) to shake your hand vigorously and you could hear the Weasley twins jeering “we got (L/n)! We got (L/n)!” Even the resident Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was congratulating you for your placement by patting your arm, which felt oddly like you were being doused in a bucket of cold water.

At the High Table, Hagrid was grinning and gave you the thumbs up of approval. Dumbledore, as you recognised him from the chocolate frog card, was up there too with a faint twinkle in his eye.

The only notable people left up, really, were Harry and Ron. 

Harry had been called first.

The Sorting Hat was sat upon his head for what seemed to be the better portion of an eternity. For the first time since your arrival, you felt a jolt of fear. What if you and your friends would be separated into different houses? You didn’t to be stuck in a full with only Neville and Hermione, everyday. What would happen if you woke up to find Neville’s slimy toad on your pillowcase or —

You felt a surge of joy and relief, as after a minute or two, the hat declared “GRYFFINDOR!” and the Great Hall erupted in cheers for Harry. You clapped your hands and smiled widely, looking for him among the sea of red and gold.

He took a seat beside you and you high-fived him.

“Nice to see you here, Potter, Harry,” you said, changing your voice to mimic McGonagall’s.

“Nice to see you too, the (Y/n) (L/n),” he snickered, mocking the way the students had reacted when they’d heard your name.

You grinned at him.

Ron joined you rather quickly, even though he was one of the last people to get sorted. You were delighted at this, as it meant you could still be with them for the rest of your Hogwarts years, if what Professor McGonagall had said about your house being akin to family, was true.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” He sat down, and as he did, food magically appeared in front of you.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked you uncertainly.

“Probably,” you said, shrugging, reaching for the roast potatoes.

You scarfed down your food, listening to the conservation around you. You cheered when the dessert had come, causing the people around you to chuckle, quietly – except for Ron, who had gotten to the apple pie before you could.

You wrestled Ron for a slice of said pie, and were happily munching on it when you glanced back up to the High Table. Hagrid was drinking from his goblet, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were in a deep discussion with each other. Another Professor, in a purple turban, was fiddling nervously with his cutlery, tapping his fork against the edge of the table. He was speaking with a professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

The teacher, as though he could sense your presence, glanced straight past the Turban-Professor and bore his black eyes into yours – a sharp, hot pain seared within your scar, and you let out a hiss of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked you, foreheading furrowing in concern.

“N-nothing.” The pain had left as quickly as it had come. How strange. You got the feeling that the hooked-nose teacher did not like you very much.

“Who's that teacher, the greasy-haired one?” you pointed at him, not discretely.

Harry stifled a laugh. “That’s Snape. No one likes him, they say he wants to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but every year he gets stuck as the Potions one instead. My dad doesn’t like him at all – actually, my entire family doesn’t really either.”

“Why’s that?” you questioned.

“Not sure,” said Harry, but he scratched his cheek nervously. “They won’t tell me.”

Deciding not to press him further, you continued to watch Snape a little longer. He never looked at you again, though, after that.

Once the desserts had all faded away, Dumbledore had announced his final speech and conducted a very tragic school school orchestra. He wiped his eyes, from pain or sadness or you guessed maybe even both, when they had finished. “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Powering your legs through the sheer force of the food you’d guzzled down, you followed Percy up to the Gryffindor Tower. With horror, you realised that you’d have to climb an average of seven staircases everyday, simply just to get to your bed. 

Anyways, the entrance to the Gryffindor headquarters was through a painting of a Fat Lady and she flipped open when you told her the password, Caput Draconis. You scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. 

You lazily trudged up the stairs, and without even bothering to notice that your trunk had been transported up to your dorm room, you face-planted onto your bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

Perhaps you had eaten a bit too much, because that night, you had a very strange dream. 

You were staring into a mirror, desperately trying to tug off a purple turban from your head. When did you get a turban? How did you get a turban? The fabric of the turban grew tighter, making you feel a sharp pain in your skull as the turban squeezed your head like a vice. You wondered how you got into this mess in the first place.

Furiously pulling, pulling, at the turban finally caused it to unravel and expose your hair. With a start, as you glanced back to the mirror, you discerned that your face had, horrifyingly enough, taken on the face of Snape. His own black, empty eyes stared back at you. 

You scrambled back, leaping away from his cockroach-like eyes, only to find that, for some reason, there was a bottomless abyss behind you. You fell down, down, down into a pit. Closing your eyes as your head thrummed painfully, you braced yourself for the impact. 

A bright flash of green light, and a high, cruel laugh jerked you awake. 

Oddly enough, however, when you’d gone back to sleep, you hadn’t remembered the dream at all. You did question, however, the next morning why when you closed your eyes, all you saw was a luminous, green light in the shape of a lightning-bolt scar.

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

→ Author's Note: Hello my lovelies, welcome to ch 1.2 yippee!! Sorry that its super long but we’re pretty already halfway through the ch 1 portion of the series XD — I’m guessing now that it's gonna reach about 1.4 or 1.5 but I could also be widely incorrect :P Anyways that’s all so catch ya next time :))) thank you

Time for this chapters analysis ~ You will have probs noticed one of the most canon-divergent parts of this series so far is that instead of the same dilemma Harry faced when he was getting sorted (Slytherin vs Gryffindor), as soon as the hat touched the little hairs upon your head, you were sorted into Gryffindor. During this chapter, and a little of the last one (but mostly this one), I've kinda been subtly trying to hint that the Reader is really quite arrogant and brazen. Rather than Harry as the chosen one, where he longs for a quiet and normal life, Reader dives headfirst into her role. She shamelessly self-promotes her lightning-scar and doesn’t try to hide it – she knows she’s special and she feeds into that!!  She’s kinda like James Potter in that regard >.< and therefore I want her to kind of be epitome of a Gryffindor (courageous and arrogant) and maybe, maybe not, a parallel to Draco Malfoy (who also got sorted into Slytherin ASAP, and is ambitious and arrogant) hehe → that’s also why Reader and Malfoy get more aggressive even more quickly than Harry did in canon… Anyways!!! This is the briefest hint at what I have in store for this series, and we’ll see how Reader’s arrogance courageousness deviates Harry Potter from canon.  Tbh I’m planning to make the reader Percy Jackson-coded (with the sass and reckless bravery and loyalty and what not) and maybe just the slightest bit Gojo-coded hehe,  I know that it's not that clear rn lol but I’ll work my way into it hopefully… Anyways, thanks again! :D Series Masterlist

Taglist (thanks for asking!): @kaverichauhan

[biggestxsimps]

Asking the Boys to The Yule Ball

A/N: I know the Yule Ball isn’t something that happens during this time but I wanted to ask my boys out regardless. So we’re just gonna ignore that it doesn’t actually happen and pretend. Sorry if the pacing is a little weird. I'd love to write a part 2 where they actually go to the Yule Ball together if that's something you guys would like to see!

Speech in Italics is reader speaking, there’s quite a bit of dialogue and I don’t want anyone to get confused.

Sebastian Sallow x Male Reader I Ominis Gaunt x Male Reader

~~~~~~~~~~

Sebastian Sallow:

It was a bright morning in the Great Hall, you heard excited chatter amongst students at your table. Curious, you lightly elbow the person sitting beside you, asking what had gotten everyone so giddy. "You haven't heard? Apparently, we’re holding the Triwizard Tournament this year. Everyone’s excited about the Yule Ball." You hum in response, making sure to keep a mental note of this information.

It was then that you heard the headmaster call for everyone to quiet down. "As you all have probably heard, we will be holding the Triwizard Tournament this year." You groan as you tune out everything else the grumpy headmaster says. Your gaze falls on Sebastian, watching as he joked with a couple of classmates beside him. You couldn’t help but smile at how happy he looked. You pull your gaze away at the sound of shrieking to your right, rolling your eyes as some of the younger students celebrate.

You had been resting in your dorm room for the afternoon, relaxing as you read a book. You turned your head at the sound of a ‘swoosh’ beside you. A letter falls into your lap, and the owl perches itself on the wooden bedframe. Your fingers prod at the envelope before pulling out the letter, you smile as you look at the sender.

~

I was hoping you would be able to visit me in Hogsmeade for a Butterbeer this evening.

I’ll be at The Three Broomsticks waiting for you.

Sebastian

~

You smile at the boy’s writing before lifting yourself off the bed. You change out of your robes and dress in something more fit for an outing. Walks to Hogsmeade were always enjoyable. You look up at the archway, with the bold word "Hogsmeade" placed among it. You scale your way in, taking notice of all the small shops and buildings on your way to the tavern. You slowly push the tall door open before entering, the smell of butterbeer filling your nose and the sound of chatter in your ears oddly relaxing you.

You take a quick look around before your eyes lock with Sebastian's, and you feel your lips tug up at the toothy-grin directed towards you from the brunette sitting at the bar. "Dressed up for me, huh?" You laugh as you take a seat beside him, greeting the boy before ordering a butterbeer for yourself. You look over to the grinning boy beside you. "What's the occasion?" You chuckle. Sebastian looks away, giggling as he shrugs. "No occasion; I just thought we should catch up." He looks back up at you, his eyes softening. You nod, taking a swig at your drink. His eyes follow your movements.

Time flies as the two of you talk, you barely notice the tavern emptying out. It's only when Sirona came up to the both of you, that you realized how late it had become. The two of you giggle as you walk out, deciding to walk together all the way back to Hogwarts. You couldn't help but stare at the laughing boy beside you, the lamp light shining against his freckled skin so nicely. His cheeks flush as he notices your gaze, before quickly clearing his throat. "So-" You two chat your way back to the castle, talk about The Yule Ball coming up. "Are you planning on going?" You glance over at the rigid boy at your side. He lightly chuckles. "It's not really my scene." He looks up, his brown eyes piercing your own. "What about you?"

You lightly shrug. "I was planning on asking someone." Sebastian curiously looks up at you. "Who?" You pause your steps, Sebastian stopping a couple steps ahead. His body turns as you move closer to him. Your hands make their way to his own, bringing them up between your chests. "You, Sebastian." You watch as his face erupts in heat, the tips of his ears growing red. You chuckle as the boy in front of you mumbles. He coughs before speaking. "I uh, I wouldn't be opposed to it." He awkwardly laughs at the end of his sentence. "Yeah?" You grin as he nods. "Um, great" You giggle, feeling your heart pump faster. Sebastian sighs in relief. "I've actually been hoping you'd ask." You couldn't help but grin even wider at that.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ominis Gaunt:

You rubbed the fog from your eyes as you walked out of your dorm, stepping into the noisy common room. You shake your head, regretting leaving your peaceful room. A loud conversation beside you caught your ears, you looked over to see a few younger years rave about something. You make your way to the group, lightly tapping the shoulder of one of them. "Sorry, what's going on?" The younger student flushes as she explains. "You haven't heard yet? We're holding the Triwizard Tournament! I can't wait to go to the Yule Ball!" She giggles, turning back to the group. You nod to yourself before leaving the group, now wandering around the common room.

You were currently walking around the castle, deciding to kill some time before your next class started. A couple familiar voices stopped you in your tracks. Looking over at the rowdy Slytherin boy, you couldn’t help but stare at the calm boy beside him a little longer. Even with the loud boy next to him, he was still so focused. His pale eyes relaxed. Your daydreams get cut short by a hand being placed on your shoulder. You turn to see Poppy smiling as she asks if you’d like to walk to class with her; not being able to turn down the sweet girl, you graciously accept. The both of you make it pretty early to your Charms class, taking your seats beside each other.

It wasn’t long until the classroom had started to fill with students, your eyes only on the lookout for a certain boy. The sound of the students talking starts to deafen as the blonde boy walks into class, his soft smile entrancing you. He sits down next to his best friend, and before you can examine him anymore, Professor Ronan’s booming voice pulls your attention away. Your eyes sneaking glances back at Ominis’s frame every now and then as the class drags on.

That evening, you had decided to stop staring at the pretty boy and just finally talk to him. It took a while, but you eventually found him sitting against a beautifully sculpted wall, his focus seeming to be on the book in his hands. Was he reading? You shake your head—a question for another time. You approach the boy, making sure that your footsteps could be heard by him. "Good evening, Ominis." The blonde perks up. "Ah Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" You smile at his enthusiasm. "I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk around the castle with me? It’s been a while since we've spoken."

Ominis nods, taking out his wand and bringing it to his side, the red light shining against his gorgeous eyes. You look away, trying not to obsess over the boy. The two of you start your journey around Hogwarts, the dimly-lit rooms creating the perfect ambiance. Your walk is filled with idle chatter, rambling on about experiences neither of you has had the opportunity to mention to the other yet. The easy conversation comes to a halt at the mention of the Yule Ball, both of you stumbling your way through the topic.

Ominis coughs before turning his head, now facing the walls opposite of you. "Are you going with anyone?" You could hear a slight shake in his voice. "No, not yet, at least." A small chuckle escapes your lips. The blonde raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought with your popularity, you certainly would’ve been asked already." You shrug before responding; a small smile sat on your face. “Not by anyone I've wanted to go with.” Ominis casts a questioning glance in your direction. “Why don’t you ask the person you’d like to? It’s better than waiting for them to come around to you.” “I don’t know, Ominis. I’m afraid they might turn me down.”

“Nonsense! They would be foolish to turn down someone as great as you.” Ominis seemed to look almost offended. “You shouldn’t think so lowly of yourself.” You slowly nod, realizing he couldn’t see you, you speak up. "Uh- thanks, Ominis," the blonde boy flushes, realizing what he said to you. “Of course,” He quickly replies. You giggle quietly at his flustered state before responding. “Are you going with anyone, Ominis?” His head shook at that. “I’m not all that interested in going.” “Why not?” “I don’t think anyone would choose to go with me.” He weakly smiles. "How about this? If no one asks you out, I’ll take you myself." Ominis’ head turns at that. "You'd do that?”

“Of course I would, what are friends for?” You shrug, a wide smile plastered on your face. You couldn’t wait to spend that night with Ominis, even if he wasn’t going as your date but as just a friend. You see Ominis look slightly disappointed as he whispers something to himself. “Pardon?” The boy looks up at your voice. “Must we go as..” He pauses “just friends’?” His nervous words made your stomach twirl. “Would you like to go as more?” You watch as the normally relaxed boy timidly twiddles his fingers. “If I said yes?” “I would take you as my lover.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m so sorry if these seem rushed or not that good, I struggled finishing this. I only expected to write a few hundred words for Ominis, but his ended up being longer than Seb’s.

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[biggestxsimps]

Make It Up to You

Tom Riddle x Male Reader

A/N: This was requested over on our Wattpad! I hope this is okay! I ditched my original idea so I hope it’s still fine, I'm so unfamiliar with Tom Riddle, and I have no idea how he'd act so he’s probably so ooc. Any and all feedback is appreciated! I'm so sorry it's this short, I can try to write something longer for him another time, maybe once I'm confident with writing his personality.

You and Tom had been together for about 2 months now, your feelings for the raven growing with each day. The two of you had planned a romantic evening in the courtyard, to talk as the sun set.

You had been waiting for about 20 minutes now, taking glimpses at your watch occasionally. Tom was never the type to arrive late, most of the time making it before you. So you were obviously quite curious, maybe even a little worried. Yet you continued to wait, deciding if he didn't arrive by the end of the hour, you would leave to try and find him.

You barely notice the time passing by as you watch the stars, making shapes as you fell into your own world. That was until you heard the door squeak open and fall back shut. You dropped your gaze to the out-of-breath figure standing before you. "I'm so sorry, Dear. I was caught up taking care of a few 1st years. Please forgive me for missing our date."

You let out a chuckle as you place a hand on his cheek, your face inching closer to his. "Of course I forgive you, Love. You had no control over it." He nods, leaning further into your touch, thus bringing his face dangerously close to your own.

He hums before he speaks, a hushed tone being let out. "Yes, but there is something I do have control over. How about I make it up to you? Perhaps somewhere a little more private?" His lips softly pressed onto yours as he awaited an answer.

Once he pulls back, you give him your approval. The two of you were now quick to rush into the nearest bathroom, moving into the nearest stall as your hands turned the lock.

You pushed him against the stall door as your lips collided, his hands holding onto whatever part of you they could as one of yours moved to the nape of his neck, your fingers curling into his short locks. Your breaths become rapid and uneven as the both of you struggle to pull off each other's robes, your lips still locked together.

As both of your robes fall to the ground, you pull back. Your hot, short breaths mingle with each other's before you move back in, his arms now wrapped around your neck as you pull his body into yours. The kiss now somehow deeper than before as Tom brings his hands to your chest, pulling at your tie before fiddling with the buttons on your blouse.

You assist him, taking your hands off of him as you finish the last couple of buttons before letting it fall, it landing on top of your forgotten robe. Tom's fingers run through your hair as you start to work on his button-up, your hands fumbling around as they reach lower.

As he's about to pull his shirt off, a voice echoes through the stone bathroom.

"Naughty Naughty, you're gonna get caughty."

Your heads turn at the unmistakable sound of Peeves' taunting, Tom's quickly pulling his clothes back on as you pick yours up from the floor, the poltergeist continues. "Headmaster Dippet won't be proud to hear this." He quickly scurries away as you're left with an embarrassed Tom.

"I should probably go and sort that out." His words were breathy, still recovering from the lack of air minutes prior. You nod, chuckling as he quickly fixes his appearance before he opens the door to the stall, rushing out the bathroom to try and beat Peeves to the Headmaster's office.

A/N: I really don't like this, I don't think I did it as well as I could've. I hope it's still readable though. I also wanted to say thank you guys for the amount of requests, it makes things just that bit easier! And thank you for all the support, we really appreciate it!

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[biggestxsimps]

Dance With Me

Harry Potter x Male Reader

A/N: Another Yule Ball fic, this time with Harry. I've had this idea for a while now but never got to making it, it wasn't exactly how I envisioned it but I really can't be bothered to rewrite it all. Y/N is a year older than Harry in this fic and has no specified house!

(About 1.6k Words)

It hadn’t been long since Harry had been picked to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, his shock quickly dissipating as he realised he had to find someone to take to the Yule Ball. Time was wearing thin and he still didn’t have anyone to go with.

The trio were currently feasting in The Great Hall, Ron stuffing his face as the other two spoke. “Well, who will you be taking then?” Hermione questions, “You can’t go alone.” He hung his head as he brushed Hermione off. “I know, I know.” He mimics a whine. “I can’t think of anyone else to ask though.” Hermione shakes her head disapprovingly. “You better find someone quick.”

Ron clears his throat after swallowing the giant bite he took. “Why don’t you take that guy you’ve been hanging around?” Harry questioningly looks at the red-head before Hermione chimed in. “Ah yes, the 5th year. Y/N, was it?” Harry shrugs as he feels his stomach flutter slightly. “Aren’t I supposed to go with someone, romantically?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, it’s either him or Ron, he has no partner either.” Ron mutters an offended ‘Hey!’ before Harry chuckles. “I guess I’ll ask him then.”

You and Harry only got close in the last year, as he was having trouble with his Herbology classes and you offered him assistance. The two of you would spend countless hours in the library discussing the plants and their specialties.

It didn’t take long for you both to hang out outside of studying, meeting before and after classes to talk. Conversations were spoken easily between you, it coming almost naturally. It’s why he had grown such a liking to you, you were such an easy person for him to get along with. Obviously so were Ron and Hermione, of course, but he swore it felt different with you.

He settled on asking you as soon as he saw you, hoping to catch you after your classes.

Timeskip

It was just about dusk when Harry found you walking through the halls, making your way to your dormitories. He sped-walked to try and catch up to you, calling your name once he was a few metres away. You turn to see him breathing heavily while greeting you. “Good Evening Y/N, I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You smile as you greet him back.

“Evening, Harry. What’s on your mind?” You watch as he straightens his robes. “As you know, I had planned on asking Cho out to the Yule Ball.” He shrugs as continues. “She’s already going with someone though, Cedric.” You send him an apologetic look. “Ah, what a shame. Sorry mate.” He waves his hand to brush it off.

“Don’t be, I’m not as upset as I thought I would be. I honestly feel a little relieved.” He watches as your face contorts in confusion, a wonky smile still present. “Well alright then, that was quick.” You give a short chuckle before you ask. “Who are you going with then?” Harry avoids your eyes as he stalls. “I hoped that’s where you’d come in.”

Your eyes widen. “You want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Harry’s quick to start again. “I was talking to Ron and Hemione about it, I can’t go alone and I’d rather go with you than whoever they put me with.” He takes a short breath. “If, of course, you don’t already have a partner.” You shake your head. “No, no partner.” You let out a small laugh.

“So how is this gonna work? What exactly are we going as?” Harry feels his stomach flip as he responds. “Friends, they said nothing about it having to be romantic.” He laughs a little as he finishes. He notices a slight glint in your eyes, one that looked almost, disappointed. Yet a smile remained on your face, he must’ve been getting his hopes up.

“Of course.” You nod, letting out a quick chuckle. “Can’t wait, Harry.” You tease as you continue your walk. Harry smiles as he watches you walk away, his heart jumping out of his chest at your words, even though he knew you were joking. “Yeah, me too.” He tries to also get it out in a humorous manner, but fails. It coming out almost sincere as it falls upon deaf ears.

Timeskip

It was the night of the Ball, Harry was currently flattening out his robes in front of a full-length mirror. His eyes glanced over every part of his outfit, making sure it was perfect for you. He had placed a (House Colour) napkin in his front pocket as you had told him you would do with his.

He couldn’t help but wonder what you’d be wearing, how it’d look on you, how the fabric would wrap along your perfect body- what. Harry shakes his head as he reprimands himself. How could he have such thoughts? He places his cold hands against his heating face before walking out.

He had to be there quickly if he wanted to be there on time.

Harry had made his way to The Great Hall, now speaking with his two closest friends. It wasn’t until Hermione had stopped responding that he turned to see what she was looking at. His jaw fell at the sight of you. You had looked much more stunning than he could’ve ever imagined. He gazed over your attire, the red napkin in your pocket to the tight undershirt and the robes that fell to your knees. He had never seen you so dressed up before.

You had obviously noticed his staring, a slight smirk present on your face. “You’re drooling, Potter.” You point to the corner of your own mouth. Harry’s face erupts as he thinks of what to say to explain himself, but before he can respond, Mcgonagall rounds up the contestants and their partners. You hold out your arm towards the nervous boy, his sweating hand wrapping around it.

Harry knew he had nothing to worry about, everyone knew of your friendship with the raven and no one would have any suspicions, he hoped. He couldn’t help but recoil at the idea of walking out there. His eyes glued shut as he took a few breaths, he couldn’t give up this early. His eyes shoot open at the feeling of your other hand coming around and embracing his.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, it’ll be over just as soon as it starts.” Your smile calms his nerves, not as much as he wished, but enough to atleast get himself out there. As Mcgonagall signalled for them to walk out, he had lost all confidence, you nudged him forward and tried to walk in-sync with him.

His eyes fell on the passing students, watching as they whispered to each other while looking right at him, he was starting to feel a little sick. He hadn’t noticed you stopped until you pulled him into you, ready to start the dance. His hand shot to your shoulder as yours reached around his waist.

The music kicks and you start moving, you feel how stiff Harry is, trying to pull him as gracefully as you could. “Harry.” His eyes break from the surrounding students and land onto your own. “Just keep your eyes on me, it’s just you and me.” Harry feels his insides heat up at your words, his eyes not leaving yours once. “Great, you’re doing amazing, Harry.” He can practically feel the red reach his face at that, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you before, but you look truly gorgeous tonight.”

Harry feels as though he’s on cloud nine, the way your words seep into every crevice of his mind and how you so gently pull him across the dance floor has him absolutely smitten.

What was this feeling? He had never felt like this before, so happy and so desperate. His heart starts to skip beats, beating faster and more aggressive than it ever had before. He felt more exhilarated now than he had at any quidditch match.

The dance floor floods with the remaining students and faculty. You lean down, whispering against his ear. “See, now no ones paying attention to us.” Harry digs his head into your neck, desperately trying to hide the mass amount of blush spread amongst his face. You chuckle as you hold him tighter against you, his cheeks growing darker.

It’s only then does he realise, realise that what he’s been feeling wasn’t admiration or anything remotely platonic. He was in love, a feeling he had never felt this strong before. Merlin, how did it take him this long to figure it out. Harrys brought out of his thoughts as the music changes, a more upbeat tune being played now.

As the other students jump around, playfully dancing with their partners, Harry stops. You send him a puzzled look before he pulls your head down to level with his own. “I think I love you.” He watches as your smile grows wider and wider as you understand what he said. “It took a while, huh?” You tease as you place a quick kiss against his lips. “I love you too, Harry.”

He grins impossibly wide as he grabs onto you tighter than he did before. Quickly letting go, remembering where exactly the two of you were. You lightly laugh, before extending a hand out. “Now, how about we dance a little longer. His eyes stare into your own as he grabs onto your hand, you’re quick to pull him into the crowd.

Neither of you could’ve asked for the night to go any better.

A/N: Holy shit, this has been in my drafts for like 2 months, I hope it’s alright lmao. 

We have quite a few requests that we're writing right now, so please take this as a filler ig. I have trouble writing for Harry so any feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

back and running and newly edited :)

Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.” Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.’ OR: in which unexpected encounters open your eyes to a whole new world. One, it seems, you know nothing about, but knows everything about you. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Author’s note: throughout this chapter I’ve put in some obvious parallels to the canon HP universe, but as we progress through the whole series, the plot may or may not become more canon divergent since you are you, and not Harry Potter… Anyways, welcome!!! Let’s see what (Y/n) (L/n), the girl who lived, gets up to. Thank you and enjoy! Series Masterlist

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Your scar was hurting.

The lightning bolt-shaped mark that rested above your right eye, in a manner of which your foster-mother, Mira Caddel, despised. Your hair had always been a flying mess because of her insistence in shaping it in such a particular way that it hid your ‘hideous scar’. You had definitely been through your pick of crude hairstyles and forced bangs in your lifetime. 

It also didn’t help that your foster-sister, Odette, enjoyed grabbing the ends of it when she pushed your head into the bowl of the toilet. You swore that she ripped out at least half of your head when she did (yet, strangely enough, when you got back up, your hair was as normal as it normally was).

Anyways, back to the matter at hand, you supposed. 

Your scar typically didn’t pain you. It was more like a weirdly-shaped birthmark at its best. But, right now, it was throbbing, releasing shockwaves of pain that reverberated throughout your head. 

You tried thinking of what you’d done to cause this. You couldn’t have hit your head on anything (even though this was a common occurrence since you had outgrown the cupboard under the stairs years ago), because you had just woken up. You didn’t think it was the usual migraine either, because they didn’t want to make you want to scratch off your lightning-bolt scar. You quite liked it after all — it added to your timeless charm. 

Maybe it was something you ate last night? What did you do last night? You couldn’t remember it point-blank but —

Oh, that was right. Seconds ago, you were fast asleep, in a dream that involved a bright green flash of light and the sound of a small child’s cry. You had a funny feeling that you’d had the same dream before. 

You clutched your forehead. The pain was slowly becoming unbearable, as though someone had stabbed a knife into your brain. You looked around, hoping to find some relief or explanation, but all you saw was the familiar sight of your tiny, cramped room. The floor was littered with clothes, books, and toys that you had collected over the years, mostly from the trash or the charity shops.

A sharp rapping on the door to the cupboard caused you to jump. 

A gruff voice snapped out. “Oi, girl! You awake yet? C’mon!” 

You groaned, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Callum Caddel, the final puzzle piece to your ‘family’, if that’s what one would call this arrangement. He was your foster father, a well-established family man to most, but a wacky old sod to you. He always managed to go out of his way to irritate or prod a taunting comment toward you. 

Your real parents, you’d been told, were killed in a car accident when you were very little. About one year old, too. That was also how you’d acquired your lightning scar. The Caddels didn’t often answer your questions about your biological family, mostly because they didn’t know the answers themselves. You had wound up in the foster care system for about two years before they had taken you in, although you presumed the only reason they did was because they got a sum of two hundred pounds a month for it. The Caddels often did find themselves on the shorter side of the economical scale, and from your own experience, knew how they jumped like fishes out of a bowl at any chance of opportune (free) money.

You stood up, dusting off your tattered pyjamas. A spider scurried up the pant leg, and you bent down to pick it off. Spiders weren’t an odd presence in your humble abode, in fact, you thought yourself to be basically a spider magnet of sorts considering how many you’d find latched to you when you woke up.

The fast knocking resumed. “I want you out! Out!”

You pulled open the door harshly, meeting the pink, rounded, wheezing face of Callum. You snarked at him. “Woulda keep quiet, old man? I’m up.”

“Good riddance,” he spat, looking awfully sour for someone with a chocolate stain on the right side of his mouth. “Hurry up and make us breakfast, girl. We do our own jobs around here, you need to pick up slack! Least, I remind you that you were the one to pick that as your chore. Don’t you know how long we’ve waited for you to wake up?” You eyed him distastefully. “I don’t see much waiting,” referring to the brown mark on his face. 

He swelled like a bullfrog, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. “What did you say to me?” You run a hand down your face. It was too early for this. Brushing past him, you entered the kitchen and began your routine of cracking eggs onto the pan.

You had just begun to fry the bacon when Odette herself decided to grace the kitchen with her glorious presence. Odette looked like an odd mix between her two parents. Her face was in a perpetual state of pinky rage, and her neck blended seamlessly into her torso (in a way that made it seem she did not have any neck at all). Her blue eyes were wide-spread and little, obviously drawn freckles lined her cheeks, sort of in a straight line. You enjoyed making fun at how her freckles seemed to be inching ever so slightly off her face everyday. With how aggressively she would apply them, some freckles would end up roughly the same size as a failed chocolate chip cookie. Her black hair was down, greasy and shiny and damp, which didn’t help her case either.

You were glad that you were not forced to share the same bathroom as her, because the times you’d stepped foot in it (you were forced to scrub it clean, you would have never done it willingly), the poor drain was quite literally clogged with what seemed to be half of Odette’s scalp. You would say that the poor thing ate more than its owner, and that was certainly saying something.

Mira entered the kitchen soon after. Her skin was deeply tanned from all the fake-tanning solutions she’d gone through, still, it was very patchy and not done well at all. Her box-dyed blonde hair was thrown over her shoulder and she brushed her long, claw-like fingers through it. “She looks like a doll”, Callum loved to swoon and you would love to reply with exaggerated, painful gagging, which never went down well with the Caddels.

She narrowed her eyes at you before taking a seat at the table and waving her hand at you. “Glad to see you’re up.”

You glared at her, muttering “lazy oaf”, under your breath before handing out the plates until there was only yours left. It was a flimsy child’s plate, one that Odette had outgrown at the ripe age of four. You powered through your food, the smiling face of Bambi peeking through your slowly diminishing heap of bacon.

Odette’s ugly mug began to twist itself into her gruesome smirk, and her lips parted. Probably to hurl out a teasing jab at your oversized clothes (which was not a phase!) or messy hair. But, before said insult could escape your foster-sister, you all heard the click of the letter-box followed by the flop of letters on the door mat.

Too intune with the deliciously appealing food on your plate, you did your very best to ignore the petulant stares of the Caddels, the stares that edged you down expectantly to fetch the mail. 

“Get the post, Odette,” you snapped at her, not glancing up from your precious. 

She huffed and got up to get the post.

Your ears were finally being blessed, listening to the heavy thumps as Odette tramped her way down the corridor to the front door. Just as you sank into your chair lazily, her high-pitched shrill cut through the air of the Caddels’ kitchen. 

Mira gasped and sprung up from her chair. “Odette!” She sprinted to where you’d heard the scream. The pointy part of her high heel hooked onto the leg of the chair you were sitting on, causing her to stumble. She caught herself on the back of your chair, but the force of her grip somehow managed to topple it over, sending you almost flying and then rolling across the floor. 

Groaning, you sat up from your new position on the ground. The clicking of heels and the heavy pants emitted from Mira and Callum respectively grew distant, as the pair of them rushed to check on their precious daughter.

Now, you didn’t really care about the girl herself, but when there was just the slightest possibility that she could be out there, embarrassing herself or prissing her pants in fear - well, now that was an opportunity you couldn’t bear to miss.

As you follow after them, you deliberated whether or not to pop up over to get the camera in order to capture the moment ahead of you.

Looking back, you think that, perhaps, you should have, considering that very moment was to become one of the very best ones you would ever have in your life.

“Who - who are you?” you heard Callum shout. “Don’t you dare come in! Don’t y - !”

“Ah, shut up Caddel, yeh great prune.” retorted another voice.

You did not recognise that voice. The Caddels were social people, sure. They frequently left the house for social outings, like the occasional meetings run by Callum’s drill firm, but never had someone stepped foot near the house. Too ashamed to reveal the tiny size of their floor plan, you reckoned, or maybe they were afraid that the dreadful state of your cupboard under the stairs would scare the lot of them off.

Of course, that did not mean no one knew of your existence. Years of praying that some knight in shining armour would come to whisk you away from the Caddels led you to pick up on rather strange occurrences. Very strange strangers would often stop (quite dramatically too) in the middle of the street to gawk at you. A tiny, funny looking man in a violet top hat had bowed to you once, or when a terribly old woman had winked at you from inside a bus. Ms Fig, the cranky, resident catwoman and your babysitter, down the street also treated you with a gentle softness, offering you extra packs of crisps to take home with you.  

The point was, this whole situation was odd. But why?

Your feet skidded against the floor as you came to a stop. 

A giant man, one no less than ten feet, with a great, scraggly beard and obsidian eyes that glinted slightly in the light, was stood in the doorway. You barely had time to notice that the poor door was hanging off its hinges, like it had been forcibly opened. 

The house was already rundown and shabby enough, and you hoped the giant man would pay for the repair funds. The house wasn’t big enough to fit the four of you, let alone some giant. This was evident when he squeezed his body into the house, causing the door to pop off its frame and go crashing down. The giant man jumped slightly, and the back of his head bumped into the hanging light bulb on the roof. Tiny little shards of crystals pelted down. 

Odette squealed and stumbled backwards into the house. The other two, who had gone ghost white with fear, were opening and closing their mouths like lost fish. Callum raised his pointer finger at the giant man, but did nothing more.

The giant’s eyes swivelled around the room before settling on you. His face, still hidden under his mass of hair, grew into a warm smile at the sight of you. A smile, you decided, had to take second place on your very short list of best smiles (after your smile, of course. The Caddels hadn’t qualified, with their hideous jugs, so it was a meagre list of two). 

“Ah, there she is! ‘Ello, (Y/n).”

You looked toward him, and if your hands wanted to tremble, you didn’t show it.

Who was this man, and how did he know your name?

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby.” the giant man’s smile grew. His eyes swept you up and down, certainly taking note of the baggy, rumpled clothes you had on. “I got summat fer yeh.”

He turned around, fishing for something inside the massive coat he had on. He spun back around, brandishing two things; a letter made from yellowish parchment paper with a purple wax seal, and a slightly squashed box.

Now it was your mouth that was openly gaping at the man. He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning, before handing you the letter.

You almost ripped it out of his hands, your curiosity taking over you. The giant man chuckled at your eagerness. 

Ms (Y/n) (L/n)

The Cupboard under the Stairs

5 Alva St

Midlothian

You stared at the letter. 

You did often get letters. You were quite popular at school, after all, for your reckless charm. But, still, no one knew about the cupboard under the stairs. Not even a single whisper of it was breathed outside of the house. 

“W-what is that?” Mira croaked out. You had forgotten she was there.

The giant man looked like he was about to snap her at but you beat him to it. “Well, that’s what I’m finding out obviously. You think I know more than you?”

The giant man huffed out a small chuckle at your hostility.

Ignoring the faint flushing of Mira’s tanned face, and Callum turning a slight purple on behalf of his wife, you flipped the letter over and yanked out the paper within.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Ms (L/n),

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You read the letter, and felt a warm tingle surge through your body. 

Excitement. 

Hagrid smiled warmly at you.

“Yer a witch, (Y/n).” 

You had always known you were different, that you had something special inside you. The strange occurrences, the oddly shaped scar on your forehead. That didn’t happen to just anyone. You weren’t like the Caddels, you knew you never had been.

And now, you had proof. You were a witch. A real, honest-to-goodness witch. 

You grinned down at the letter, before tilting your head at the giant man. “I can’t believe it. A witch. That’s — that’s well, incredible!”

The giant man was openly laughing at your ecstasy. Even Mira, Callum and Odette had nothing to say. You could see them craning their necks to stare at the letter in your hands.

You smiled at the giant once more when a sudden thought struck you. “Ah — er, maybe I should’ve started with this, but, who are you exactly?”

His shoulders shook with each of his chuckles. “The name’s Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’course.”

Mira stepped forward, quite suddenly. “I don’t understand. A witch? What are you talking about? Witches, wizards — the whole thing! Those aren’t real!”

Your smile faltered at this. In your excitement (the prospect of finally being whisked away from here), perhaps you had allowed a cloud of delusion to settle over your head. She was right. Magic? Wouldn’t you have known if there was a magical society thriving right under your nose? 

You shook your head at this. No. There had to be one. There just had to.

Hagrid’s face fell but he was quick to bring it back up. “Tha’s right. You lot are muggles. Yer hadn’t an inkling of magic.”

“What are muggles?” you asked, perking up at the unfamiliar jargon.

“A muggle,” Hagrid began, “is what we call non-magic folk like them. It’s real bad luck that you ‘ad to grow up with ‘em, instead of yer parents. I knew we shoulda left ya wit’ a wizarding family… ‘least then yeh woulda known about - ”

His eyes widened with realisation as he whipped around suddenly to face you, a sad expression taking over his features. “Then tha’ means you never learnt about yer parents. About Hogwarts. About yerself!”

He looked quite distressed, as he ran a hand down his big face. “A sad thing, really. The whole situ’tion with yer parents. A huge scandal, ‘specially since yeh don’t even know what happened. Ya know, every kid in our world knows yer name? Yer famous!”

Hagrid looked at you, his eyes sparkling brightly. You blinked dumbly.

“Yer famous!” he repeated, noticing the stunned faces on your and the Caddel’s faces. “Gulpin’ gargoyles, I knew Dumbledore said yeh didn’t know much but, I didn’t expec’ yeh knew so little.”

You sucked in a breath, chest puffing out affront. You certainly knew your stuff. Hell, you were salutatorian in your maths class, captain of the football team and the most liked person in your year level. You definitely weren’t stupid, if that was what Hagrid was suggesting.

Hagrid sighed deeply. “It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but its incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows — ”

“Who?” you asked testily, not quite enjoying the way he was talking about this whole thing like it was as obvious as the sky was blue or the grass was green.

“Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?” “People are still scared of ‘im. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His  name was…” Hagrid visibly gulped. 

“Can you write it down?” you suggested helpfully, unfolding your arms.

“Nah - can’t spell it. All right - Voldemort.” Hagrid flinched, like some had just rammed a knife into his back. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyways, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘ cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, didn’t knew who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange witch or wizards… terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him - an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then anyway.”

He breathed out, wiping at his eyes. “Now, yer mum was as good a witch I ever knew. Yer father was great as well. Brillian’, the two of ‘em were. Truly. But then, You-Know-Who turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ — an’ —”

He stopped suddenly, pulled out a very dirty handkerchief and blew his nose with it. A noise that caused the remaining chandeliers to rattle.

“He killed them,” you said quietly. It hadn’t been a car crash… no. They were murdered.

“He killed ‘em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”

You raised your hand to cup the scar on your face. A vivid flash of green filled your vision, but this time, you could hear something else — a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid sighed again. “Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter a buildin’ an’ — ” he reached for his handkerchief. “An’ left yeh there, since yeh had no other family!” Hagrid dabbed at the corner of his eyes.

The amount of questions you held grew exponentially. “But, what happened to Vol — er — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry, see… he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d he go?

“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back. Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, (Y/n). There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.”

Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.

The Caddels gaped at you, and then at Hagrid, their heads swivelling like fans at a game of tennis. The foster-couple had their mouths angled toward the floor, looking positively bewildered and confounded at the entire exchange. You truly didn’t care what Mira and Callum thought of you. They were just muggles, according to Hagrid. They were ordinary and boring. Not like you.

You were a witch, a sorceress destined for greatness.

You looked up at the giant man, who was smiling at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “So, what do you say, Ms. (L/n)? Are you ready to join the wizarding world?”

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded eagerly, clutching the letter to your chest. “Yes, yes, yes! I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts!”

The giant man laughed heartily. “Tha’s the spirit, lass!”

“J-just hold on now,” muttered Callum, stepping forward. “That’s all dandy and all — ” you saw Hagrid’s eyebrow twitch. “—  but, who’s going to be paying for her funds? Not us, I can assure you.”

Hagrid scowled. “We’ll cover it then. Ungrateful old muggle.” 

You stifled a laugh. 

Callum snatched the letter from your hands, inspecting the list of equipment. “She needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books, wands, cauldrons. This is just some great joke isn’t it?” He turned to you suddenly, his moustache twitching violently. “You’re in one hell of a punishment after this, girl. Think it’s funny, do you? Wasting our time with this wizarding nonsense. Some hilarious prank.”

“It’s very much real,” spoke Hagrid, his voice rising steadily. “And don’ yeh worry yer little head off, Caddel. She’s one of us. You don’t need to be butting yer head into it now. Yeh’ve done all yeh needed to fer the past ten years, bare minimum from the looks of it, but we’ve got ‘er now. ”

Callum’s face went an ugly shade of purple. “Good, I suppose.” he replied stiffly. “Then get along.” 

He grabbed Mira’s shoulders and they started walking back into the kitchens. Odette turned to look at you, her eyes flickering to Hagrid, before her lips curled into a wide smirk. “Have fun, at your special school.”

You sent her a nasty glare, taking a step toward her before Hagrid disciplined her for you. A loud explosion blew Odette’s hair backwards, a warning blast that, to your pleasure, curtailed her growing ego. She shrieked and high-tailed it to the kitchen, sprinting faster than you’d ever seen her run before.

You barked out a laugh at Hagrid’s guilty face. 

“Sorry, shouldn’ta lost me temper. I’d be grateful yeh if didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I’m —  er —  not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job — ”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” you asked, tilting your head at him in interest.

“Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”

“Why were you expelled?” “We’ve spent alotta time here,” said Hagrid loudly. “We still gotta get yer books an’ all. Let’s get goin’.”

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Diagon Alley was a strange little place.

After passing through a grubby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, and getting your hand furiously shaken by everyone in the store, Hagrid had led to the small outroom beside the pub and whacked his pink umbrella against a stray, mouldy looking brick.

You raised an eyebrow unimpressed when nothing happened after a second. The very next second, however, the entire structure began to collapse and expose the treasures hidden within. 

A knobbly street with stores positively hanging from the ground as they towered over everyone — even diminishing Hagrid of his giant stature. From what you could see, there was a cauldron shop with various different kinds of pewter, copper, brass, even silver cauldrons. There was an owl emporium, from which you could hear the distant chirping of owls, and a ‘Quidditch store’ (whatever that was) with boys and girls around your own age stood around the place, pressing their noses to the glass. At the very end of the street, there was a snowy-white building, significantly larger than the rest, whose sign read ‘Gringotts.’ 

Hagrid had debriefed you on some of the commonly known things in the wizarding world; one of which was Gringotts. Gringotts was the resident wizarding bank, where wizards would deposit their money (knuts, sickles and galleons) into vaults that were fiercely guarded by goblins. Apparently your parents had even stored a wizarding fortune for you in one of those little vaults.

And so was true. A goblin named Griphook cracked open your vault to reveal piles and mountains of bronze, silver and gold coins. You reached inside and grabbed as many coins as would fit into your pouch. 

You visited another vault too, one for ‘secret Hogwarts business’ as Hagrid put it. Of course, you tried your best to get a peak at the small item wrapped delicately in its brown paper package, but Hagrid had been quick to shove it into his coat pocket.

After a tumultuous cart ride back up to the surface, you went about doing some boringish house-keeping work, which included sizing your robes, buying your books, stationary and other equipment (Hagrid wouldn’t let you get the rainbow, colour changing ink bottle nor the quill that sung melodies to you as you wrote).

The last thing that was left was getting your wand. But before that, Hagrid had departed mysteriously, telling you to stay put at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour with your chocolate and raspberry ice cream (with chopped nuts) until he returned.  

Naturally, you did not stay put.

Sauntering over to the ‘Quidditch’ shop you had passed before, ice cream cone in hand, you joined the small crowd still present in front of the display windows. You took a small lick of the chocolate syrup as you squinted your eyes at the thing everyone was obsessing over.

A broomstick.

You stifled a laugh. Of course, witches and wizards rode brooms – what else were you expecting? It must’ve been a form of transportation here. The label under the broom read ‘Nimbus Two Thousand - newest model of the Nimbus line.’ You looked at it appreciatively. 

You leaned to the right slightly, trying to look at the models surrounding the Nimbus, but you swayed too far and ended up bumping shoulders with one of the boys next to you. He jumped and turned to you with a start.

“Sorry,” you grinned at him. “I was trying to look at the other brooms.”

He smiled back at you uncertainly. “That’s fine. Are you a first-year at Hogwarts too?” The boy had messy black hair and rounded glasses perched on his nose. His brilliantly emerald-stained eyes shone out, past the glare of his lenses, as he made eye contact with you. He was quite scrawny for his age too, or perhaps that was created by the robes he was donning. Weirdly, your breath stuttered slightly. Now that was strange - your breath had never frozen quite like that before. Maybe it was part of the wizard charm, he was the first wizard you had really talked to (aside from Hagrid, but you were still unsure if he was a giant, a wizard or both).

Oh cripes, he wanted an answer didn’t he? “Uh — yes, I am. First-year. Hogwarts.” You nodded, in order to solidify your statement.

“That’s cool,” said the boy. His hair flopped onto his face and he pushed it back to expose the unmarred skin on his forehead. Your hair too had also fallen onto your face, covering your scar, but you weren’t as fussed about adjusting it. “I’m a first-year as well.” He gestured to the shop in front of you. “Do you like Quidditch? Well, you’re standing here so you probably do. Do you play much? What position?”

“If we’re being honest here, I frankly have no idea what you’re talking about.” You scratched your cheek, smiling sheepishly at the boy. He blinked, tilting his head. “Oh, like you don’t know what Quidditch is? At all?” “Yeah.” you answered. “I just came here to check out what had everyone so excited.”

“Oh, okay,” said the boy. “Are you a muggle-born then? Sorry — I hadn’t realised.” You continued to smile blankly at him, head empty from the stuff he was speaking of (what on earth was a muggle-born?).

“I’m a half-blood, see. My father’s a pure-blood, but my mum’s a muggle-born,” he said. “They’re out picking up some extra supplies with my uncles. Don’t worry if you aren’t familiar with anything yet! My mum was too, when she was invited to Hogwats, but then she ended up being top of her year and head girl. Here, let me explain Quidditch to you - you’ll love it…”

The boy rambled on with his speech about the sport - something about seven players, four balls, something called a chaser? which was what position he played. You certainly didn’t absorb anything he was saying, but you did note that he had a nice smile. A bit awkward and unsure, but it was still nice.

He was about to dive into the finer details of the game when Hagrid’s voice called out. “(Y/n)! (Y/n), where are you?!” 

You grinned apologetically at the boy, stuffing the end part of the cone into your mouth. “Sorry - that’ll be me. Great talking to you though, see ya at Hogwarts!”

You began to scurry away toward the sound of Hagrid’s distressed call, missing the way the boy’s green eyes widened at your name. “(Y/n)... (L/n)?”

His father, James Potter, snuck up behind him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up, little Prongslet?”

The rest of his family came piling up behind the two. His mother, Lily Potter, whose forest-green eyes and bright red hair were positively sparkling at the sight of her husband and son. Lagging slightly behind were his uncle, Remus Lupin – with his robes prim and proper, not shabby at all, how he liked them – and his other uncle, Sirius Black, who was currently partaking (with much joy, might one add) in trying to pull Remus’s robe hood over his face. 

“Alright, Harry?” asked Lily, her fingers brushing away his bangs. “What’re you looking at?” “Um. Nothing,” said Harry Potter, tearing his eyes away from the spot you were last standing and back to his family. They met his gaze with their own warm, bright ones. “At least, I think so.”

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The thing, Hagrid had left to do, ended up being a present for you. A little something for your admission into Hogwarts, he had mentioned. You were grinning ear to ear, thanking him profusely, when you had discovered what he had given you. You were proud to say that now, tucked delicately under your left arm, was a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. You’d have to decide a name for her later, you thought.

The final store to get checked off was a shabby building tucked nicely away in the corner of Diagon Alley. Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

The place was tiny and quiet, and it almost reminded you of a strange library - though the only difference was that it was near empty and the shelves were lined with boxes containing wands rather than books.

Hagrid took a seat on a small pink spindly chair, though he nearly leaped off it when a soft voice echoed out within the small shop. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello!” you said back, twisting your neck to try and get a glimpse of the voice. “I’m (Y/n) - “ “(L/n). (Y/n) (L/n), yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon.” An old man popped up in front of you, his watery grey eyes fervently scanning your figure up and down. 

Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on your forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out in the world to do…”

He shook his head, before suddenly whipping out a measuring tape to eyeball the length of your dominant arm.

“I remember when your mother was here, buying her first wand. Twelve inches exactly, malleable, unicorn hair. Aspen.” The measuring tape flew away from his hands, now measuring the width of your nostrils by itself.

Your mouth blubbered slightly, gaping at the man in astonishment. “How do you remember that?” The man chuckled. “I remember all of the wands I’ve ever sold, (Y/n) (L/n).”

“Do you know my father’s one, then?” “Your father never purchased a wand.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was your father like Hagrid then? Expelled from Hogwarts before he could get a wand? (Well, Hagrid did have a wand you guessed, tucked inside his flowery pink umbrella). Your eyes widened. 

Was Hagrid your fath —

“He was a muggle,” explained Mr Ollivander. The tape had now switched to measuring the length of your face. “He didn’t have any magic.”

“Oh.” was all you said in reply.

“That’s quite enough,” he spoke to the tape, which fell limp to the floor. “Right then, Ms (L/n). Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it, and give it a wave.”

You took the wand from his hands but before you could do so much as to lift it, Mr Ollivander snatched it out of your hand at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -”

And try you did, but Mr Ollivander had snatched it back almost instantaneously once again.

“No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” You tried. And tried. And a little more. The pile of wands on the spindly grew and grew until the poor chair was squeaking and compressing under the weight. Yet, despite the failures in finding your wand, the more Mr Ollivander pulled from the walls, the happier he became.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

You took the wand and it immediately spluttered to life. A shower of golden sparks exploded from its tips as you brought it swooshing down from your head. An explosion of colourful fireworks emitted from it, creating little light spots, like the sort you’d find at the surface of a swimming pool. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… How curious. How very curious…”

He began wrapping your wand in a brown paper bag. “Curious… curious…”

“What’s curious,” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

Mr Ollivander’s silvery gaze hooked onto yours. “I remember every wand I’ve sold, Ms (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Your throat became dry.

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms (L/n)... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great.”

Great things. 

Terrible, yes, but great. That was right.

Ollivander, in his old manly rambles and silvery light gaze, was correct. That was you — (Y/n) (L/n). The only survivor of Voldemort’s wrath, and the sole hero of the wizarding world.  It was you who bore the weight of this burden now, and you sure did hope that your shoulders were steady enough.

→ Author’s note: Hello my lovelies, thank you so much for picking up The Girl Who Lived series! 💖 (I think I’ll abbreviate it to TGWL when I write about it though hehe)!!! If you couldn’t tell, this will follow the plotline of the books but it will deliberately omit, add or change some events ;0 Hoped you somewhat liked the whiff of interaction we got between reader and Harry (verrryyy brief but there is more to come, promise!) You don’t have to read this next part but I like analysing and explaining texts so I’m kinda gonna go ham on this chapter//series Reader grew up with her foster family rather than her aunt and uncle like Harry. There was no particular reason for this, ‘specially since both families are pretty similar 😀 Though, one thing that I wanted to point out was that the Caddels aren’t supposed to be as abusive as the Dursleys. The Dursleys are cruel to Harry because they hate magic and they’re spiteful of it, because Petunia was jealous of Lily.  On the other hand, the Caddels are an ordinary, Muggle family who happen to be quite prudent and stingy. They have a small house that’s not big enough to house four people, which is why reader lives in the cupboard under the stairs. Odette and reader’s relationship is a more hostile version of a typical sibling relationship, not the social hierarchy pyramid that was Harry’s and Dudley’s.  Anyways, the point is they hold no real grudge against magic, but they aren’t fond of reader herself, hence the mocking jabs. Because of this distinct lack of hatred, not only did reader receive her letter on the first day, rather than that canon goose chase/hunt thing, but Hagrid also wasn’t as aggressive to them as he was to the Dursley’s. They don’t hate magic, nor do they hate the reader. To them, she kind of just exists This partly ties into reader’s quite arrogant and brazen personality (which I will analyse more in depth later on… no spoilers!) So yeah, the Caddels aren’t evil or abusive at heart, just a family who needs money and happens to have taken in a teenager with a bucket load of angst (which I will also tap into later ;)  (One more thing soz… but if you’re wondering why you met Harry instead of Draco in Diagon Alley like in the og books, well in the canon, Harry goes to Diagon Alley like on the 31st of July (very late). On the other hand, reader received her letter first up so they went to get the supplies on like the 1st hence her and Draco’s times don’t overlap! I chucked Harry in here because since he lives with his parents now, James would def want Harry to get his stuff ASAP to teach him random crap and Lily would want him to start studying or practising for school LOL) Series Masterlist