#malfoy reader

[wordsarelife]

—merry christmas, please don't call

pairing: theo nott x malfoy!reader

summary: after breaking up a few months ago, theo and you meet again at the yearly christmas ball at your parent's house. you're both dealing with the grief of a relationship that ended too soon.

warnings: angst, post breakup, bittersweet

notes: felt inspired by the song, but idk what this is.. lol. also used the word 'soft' way too often, but honestly couldn't be bothered to change that..

the lights glisten above your head as you make your way to the extravagant decorated room. it's stunning, really, with the warmth of christmas flooding the place, almost like it always feels warm and like home in these halls.

christmas is probably the only time of the year you feel any warmth in the malfoy house.

during that special time, it resembles hogwarts a bit and anything that resembles hogwarts ultimately feels like home.

the dress you're wearing is suprisingly comfortable, not comparable to the ones your mother normally chooses. it does fulfill two purposes at once: it looks gorgeous and elegant, while it fits your form perfectly and doesn't scratch or hurt.

the party is not in full swing yet, but a few guests are already there, talking reservedly or sipping on their champagne. the buffet isn't open yet, but you smell the delicious food offerings to where you're standing.

your eyes fall on draco, who walks closer with an unusual caring look on his face.

"mum told you to look nicer again, or what?" you asked. around these festivities draco is the only person you can speak normal with, considering your mother makes you study before speaking to guests. she would get a heart attack if she heard you speak one informal sentence during the ball.

draco shrugs, before he steps next to you. to the guests you make the perfect picture siblings, both stunning to look at, while you look like you harmonize like twins.

draco is a bit older than you, but growing up in a house like that ultimately leads you to make strong ties with the people that are caught together with you.

"no" draco finally says. he speaks slow and his voice is almost a whisper, as if he's trying not to make too much noise or dare one of the guests to come and converse with you.

you turn your head to look at him, brows furrowed. he stares straight ahead. draco normally isn't the one to hold back. he's straightforward even with unnerving topics, but this seems to even make him uncomfortable.

"theo" he eventually mutters and your hand clasps around his arm in such a hurry, like he just slapped you. draco's eyes fall on you and he looks almost scared. "he's coming"

"i thought mum said he couldn't make it?" your voice is two octaves higher than normal, begging for this to be a simple misunderstanding.

"well" draco sighs, "change of plans"

tears well up in your eyes. "draco, i can't—"

"you must" draco says, even though it seems like he's reluctant to do so. "you can't afford to mess this up"

"draco" you mutter once again, pleading.

"i'm sorry" he squeezes your hand. "you don't have to speak with him, okay? i'll take care of that. just act normal"

you nod, biting back the lump in your throat. the tears are thin and you pat them away from your face quickly. "okay"

most of the evening goes by like a gentle breeze. draco stays true to his word, taking care of the situation without you having to do anything with it.

a few times you can feel eyes gazing over your form, but you don't give into the overwhelming call to turn and look at him. you know that you can't or the night would be over.

theo isn't trying to disturb you either. he never comes closer, makes no move to talk to you and even though you can feel his eyes linger, he knows that it isn't his place. you aren't his to look at, he isn't yours to notice.

the lights and the music of the room make you feel like someone wrapped you in a massive bubble wrap, stumbling through the room and making polite conversation any time it is needed, laughing at the right times and looking down gracefully when someone compliments you.

your mother would be proud if she had the time to notice through the stress of the party.

faster than you had hoped, the thickness of the night develops into a full blown headache, drowning out the sound around you as your head practically begs for a moment of silence.

that's why you slip away at around eleven, walking up the stairs and down the hall until you reach a room no one ever visits.

the room is dark, only a small light illuminating the space. in the middle stands an abandoned piano, the one your parents had bought as soon as they had found out they were expecting a girl, hoping for you to be musically inclined.

you never developed a real interest, but through various years of teaching and practice you can play a few songs. that seems to have been enough.

you sit down on the bench in front of the piano, moving your fingers to hit a few notes that echo along the walls of the small room. the silence that follows is defeaning. it's the happiest time of the year, but you feel anything but happy.

right when you think about returning the party downstairs, the door softly opens behind you. when you turn around you expect to be met with a disapproving look on draco's face, but it's not your brother who stares back at you.

"theo" your breath hitches and for a second you're sure you're going to collapse right here on that ugly carpet. but you just look at the boy and he looks right back at you.

every unsaid word, every unfinished sentece is hanging in the air between you.

theo closes the door.

"hey" he finally says, slowly stepping closer, like he's trying not to scare you away.

"hey" you answer. another few seconds of silence settle between you, until theo clears his throat.

"i would ask how you have been.." he hesitates, before he shakes his head. "honestly i'm not sure i want to know the answer"

maybe it's just the calmness in his voice that makes you relax almost immediately, but you know it's actually the truth behind his words. you feel the exact same, fearing that anything you would've found out would have made it worse.

"come" you say, patting the bench beside you. "sit with me"

theo obliges, settling down in close proximity to you and although you feared it would, it doesn't make you uncomfortable, not even in the slightest. his presence is familiar and that makes it all the more jarring.

"that's a beautiful dress you're wearing" he compliments.

you smile slightly. "thank you" your eyes are caught by the pattern of his tie. you sigh. "that's the same tie you wore the last time we danced together"

there's an icy look in theo's eyes as he seems to remember the day of your mother's summer ball. the way your eyes had sparkled the entire night. the way you had circled around him, laughing at everything he had said. the way you had looked at him like you had never seen something better. the way you aren't looking at him like that anymore.

"sorry" you mutter, your gaze dropping away from his face and onto your fingers. "i don't know why i just said that"

"it's okay" theo assures.

you're sure he's lying.

"it's just— everything is so different suddenly" he mutters. "i don't know how to act, how to speak with you. it feels like you died"

you flinch, his words hitting you harder than expected, before you settle down, realizing that he just put into words what you had been feeling these past months. "i think i know what you mean" you admit. "it hurts so much, because i know you're still there. but you're not mine anymore and nothing happened to you, but you will never be the same again either" you pause, before you look up at him again. "not to me at least"

theo's jaw tightens, his shoulders sag, the weight of your words settling over him like a shroud.

“i guess that’s what hurts the most” he finally says, his voice barely audible. “that we’re still here, breathing the same air, but we’ll never be... us again. not even close.”

you nod, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. “it feels like grieving someone who’s standing right in front of you. like i should reach out and touch you, but there’s this... wall, and i don’t even know who put it there.”

theo looks at you then, his gaze softening, just for a moment. “maybe we both did.”

the words hang between you, heavy and undeniable. you both look away, staring at the floor, the past, the impossible distance between who you were and who you are now.

the music from the ball filters faintly through the walls, a haunting melody of what once was.

you smile through the tears, closing your eyes and breathing in the smell of the air. theo's smell. "you still smell like winter—like frost and firewood. i thought i’d forgotten."

theo freezes at your words, his breath hitching as he looks at you, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face. "and you still... sound the same" he murmurs. "like you're about to laugh, even when you're crying."

you let out a quiet, bitter chuckle at that, wiping your eyes quickly. "funny how nothing changes and yet everything does, isn’t it?"

he doesn’t answer, just watches you with that unreadable expression—the same one he used to wear when he was trying to hide how much he cared.

“do you remember that night at the summer ball?” you ask softly, your voice trembling. “i thought i’d never be happier than i was in that moment. you were smiling so much, and i—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “it feels like it happened to someone else.”

theo looks away, his jaw tightening. “maybe it did. we were different back then”

the silence stretches again, the music drifting like a ghost between you. finally, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know how to let go of that night. of you.”

you bite your lip, holding back the sob rising in your chest. “maybe we don’t have to let go” you say, your voice trembling. “maybe we just carry it. like a scar. something that hurt, but proves it was real.”

theo’s lips curve into the faintest, most bittersweet smile. “then it will be the most beautiful scar i’ll ever bear”

you smile softly at him.

theres a few seconds of silence until his voice reaches your ears once more. "it won't be good again, we will not be good again, right?"

"no" you softly shake your head, another tear rolling over your cheek. "but we will heal from this" you mutter, your eyes crashing into his. "not yet, but... one day"

"i know" theo nodds. "i just miss what we had"

"so do i" you reply, your voice breaking as you admit it. “every day.”

theo watches you while your fingers slowly wander over the keys of the piano, playing a soft melody. the way he looks at you feels a bit like before all this happened, but you can't allow your mind to wander.

theo follows your lead, pressing a few keys too. you smile as he hits the wrong one on accident.

you lay your head to rest on his shoulder, as your hands continue to pass by each other on the piano, never truly meeting but not being too far either.

"merry christmas, theo" you mutter softly.

"merry christmas, y/n" theo smiles, his voice carrying it's usual warmth. "you were the best thing about me"

—

tag: @bakingintheshire

[emeritusemeritus]

Call me by your name [Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader]

Pairing: FredWeasley x Malfoy!Reader

Timeline: OOTP, reader and twins are in their 7th year.

Summary: Malfoy!Reader had been successfully hiding her secret relationship with Fred Weasley for years. What happens when Fred no longer wants to hide? Cue angsty breakup and makeup fic!

Warnings: Mentions of deatheaters, Umbitch, negative commentary of status and wealth. House divide, negative talk of Slytherins. Abusive parents. Sorry Narcissa, I actually like you. Mentions of arranged marriages, swearing, public declarations of love. DA and inquisitorial squad mentions.

Word count: 3.4k

This came from a wonderful request from my dear @kellyxo1, as always thank you so much for your wonderful request, hope this is okay!🖤

The air in the stuffy old Manor House was unbearably cold and stale, much like the family that resided there. The home of the Malfoy family, much like their surname, was figure of stature and tradition, a paragon of social status that oozed wealth and importance on account of their pure-blood status. Each member of the family had been selected by the sorting hat upon their arrival at Hogwarts to enter into the house of Slytherin, a fact the family was most proud of, another ode to their pure-blood roots and continued beliefs. Every malfoy had followed in the footsteps of the previous generation, marrying into other pure-blood families as to keep the bloodline strong, fraternising with equally powerful families that held the same beliefs, each out to gain and maintain status in the wizarding community.

"He's younger than me!" You shriek, you left arms lifting into the air as you look upon the stiff and unemotional faces of your parents who stand by the edge of your bed, delivering the news.

"Blaise is a fine boy and he shall make a fine husband," your father says, as if he truly believed the words that he was speaking. "He's from a long line of Slytherin's, a good student and a promising young wizard."

"He's a complete twat," you argued, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, completely exasperated by the conversation you were forced to endure with your parents.

"It's only two years difference," your mother says, trying to remain at least diplomatic as your father gave you a thunderous look for your selection of language.

"He's a friend of Draco's! It's archaic and barbaric." You added, trying to express your disgust at the very thought but it was immediately apparent that your parents did not share in your distaste, nor understand it.

"Young lady!" Your father hissed in displeasure, the veins on his head looking fit to burst.

"I just don't understand why I have to marry someone with status," you say, in a calm and somewhat emotionless voice, realising that your emotive reaction was doing no favours here. "I don't understand why I have to be married at all, much less to somewhat that wasn't my choice."

"We want the best for you," your mother adds, her hands clasped in front of her as her gaze flicks between you and your father. It's a blatant lie, a way of manipulating you into following their path but it wouldn't work, not this time.

"Then let me make my own choices," you retort, not meeting their eyes.

"So you can run back to that blood traitor?" Your father all but screams, his temper exploding as he throws his cane, narrowly missing the house elf that was tending to the paintings in the hallway just outside of your door. He storms off in a flurry of black robes, almost growling under his breath as you hear his heavy footsteps marching angrily away.

The mention of Fred makes your stomach roil dangerously, filling you with hatred for your family, for the life you'd been born into. You don’t know how they came to know about your situation, but you detested their use of it against you. The anger dissipates slightly as you watch your mother perch on the side of your bed, hands still folded in her lap as she looks at you with a conflicted expression.

"We just want what's best," your mother repeats but you interject, frustrated by her attempt to keep pushing the matter you were so obviously not open to discussing.

"You had your chance! You chose to marry for money and status," you replied, a harsh tone to your voice that you'd seldom used at your mother.

"I didn't have a choice!" She says, her voice coming out like a hiss as her resolve drops so that you finally see her fraying nerves.

You pause, taking a moment to really see your mother as a young woman that was in your position so many years ago.

"If it's so bad why would you want that for your own daughter?" You ask, trying to appeal to her though your emotional delivery, trying to reach out for that young woman who must have felt exactly how you did right now.

She refuses to meet your eyes, nor answers your question. You realise very quickly that you're getting nowhere and never would. All emotions exit you as you look upon your mother feeling no love or affection, nor receiving any in return.

As you looked upon the vision of your mother and thought of your fathers reaction, you felt an empty void of emotion where love should be. The chasm of happy memories was empty, at least when it came to your family.

Right then you thought of Molly and Arthur, of the whole family and the strong, foundational outpouring of love in which the family was built around. Two people that loved one another deeply, building a life and a family, creating a warm and loving home for their children to thrive in.

They'd be celebrating Christmas right now, with gorgeous homemade food and handmade presents, surrounded by love and laughter and maybe the occasional cross word.

Poor in wealth but rich with love; and you would always chose that over this.

"I refuse to marry Blaise Zabini or any other pure blood suitor you deem acceptable," you say matter of factly, your voice completely void of emotion as you made your point clear. "I'll make my own choices in life. You may not have been strong enough to resist the pressure but I am, I refuse to be forced into a loveless marriage and live out a miserable existence like you."

"You're no daughter of ours," your mother sneers. "No. I'm not."

Later that night, you lay in your dark and dreary bedroom, looking around at the bare, lifeless walls that held no sentiment nor icon of your personality, your life. You thought of Fred and George's bedroom and how cluttered it must be, with all their quidditch memorabilia and Weasley products lying around. They'd have bedspreads that had been knitted for them, fresh sheets that smelt like their home and little trinkets around the room that had been collected throughout their lives. You had none of that, even down to the colourless and scentless sheets on your bed. You thought of Fred often, the boy you loved more than anything in the world. The boy that had seen past your surname and your Slytherin placement and still loved you regardless. He hadn't been prejudiced or hateful, nor had he used you to gain status in the Wizarding community. He simply loved you because he loved you.

Loved.

Memories flashed behind your eyes of happier times, your relationship strengthening over the years until you were completely infatuated with each other, planning your futures in hushed whispers and promising secrets. You could be yourself around Fred, completely unashamed of the things you'd believed for so long to be personal failures and character faults.

You'd been together since your fifth year, unable to deny the attraction any longer. You'd started sneaking around, stolen kisses in the secret passageways, sneaking out after hours, notes slipped into pockets, fingers grazing as you walked past eachother pretending the other didn't exist. You secretly cheered for each and every hit he'd administer on the quidditch pitch, every dive and skilful deflection of the bludger. Though you couldn't cheer or support him outright, you always kept a little something on you in Gryffindor red that you both knew meant that you were there for him.

After a while, you told your small group of friends and Fred told his, including his siblings. There were tensions at first, of course there was, but after seeing how good for each other you were, of how happy you were together, the grievances quickly quietened.

His friends became yours too, a real and honest group of friends that too could rely on, share with and care for in return.

You didn't have to hide anymore, at least not with them. But Slytherins much like their name were mostly all vicious snakes, with sharp tongues and deceitful tendencies. You couldn't let them know, couldn't allow them to spoil the singular good thing you had in your life and so for the most part, your relationship remained hidden to the wider school.

It was exciting at first, rebelling against the restrictive and domineering upbringing you were forced into. You weren't like your parents or Draco, or any members of your family really. You were certainly no deatheater and didn't hold the same disgusting values that they did. Blood trainers, mud bloods, muggleborns or muggles, everyone should have the right to be treated the same, to live their life without fear or prejudice.

Fred knew, he knew you weren't one of them, that you were better, different than your name but also that you couldn't step out of line for fear of the repercussions you'd face. Or at least, you thought he understood.

Your seventh year at Hogwarts, your last. The last hurdle to get through before you could truly be your own person and break away from the chains of being a Malfoy. You had a plan, carefully and slowly formulated for years for the eventual day you'd be your own person and free to make your own choices, leaving your family behind. Your world would gain colour and warmth instead of the cold and monochrome world you felt you loved in. Only, it wouldn't happen now, at least not as you always planned it.

Things had been going so well, you were on track to ace your NEWTS, your relationship with Fred was almost blissful and with everything happening behind the scenes, it kept your parents busy and mostly out of your way. But then it all started to crack when Fred became Fred up of sneaking around, becoming paranoid and suspicious of your true intentions. You'd tried your hardest to squash these intrusive thoughts, to calm his nerves and to show him just exactly how much you wanted him but for so many reasons you couldn't be open about it. He'd face repercussions too, not just you. But he didn't see it that way, said he didn't care, that he just wanted to be able to be in love without having to hide it.

The last nail in the proverbial coffin came when Umbridge turned up and tried imposing her disgusting views upon the students, altering the curriculum and moving in favour of the deatheaters under the guise of ministry control. You'd joined Dumbledore's Army without a scone thought, knowing it was the right thing to do. The only Slytherin who was invited to join, their trust in you appreciated. But then Umbridge had formed the inquisitorial squad and you'd never felt a more painful divide in your life. Your younger brother had proudly joined, sadistically enjoying the power he was bestowed with. The danger of being discovered , found to be a traitor and the consequences of that were almost enough to make you quit the DA, but you persevered with increasingly fraying nerves.

You were stressed, tormented by the divide in your life and the conflicting expectations of you with no outlet to express your frustrations.

So you did what you had to do and fought harder to keep your relationship a secret, to keep the one good thing in your life away from the dementor-like happiness stealing of your family. The Christmas holidays were coming up and your anxiety was peaking at having to spend an extended amount of time away from your boyfriend and friends and have to go back to that dreary manor with your even drearier family. Fred could tell that something was up with you, that you were unhappy, tense and quiet but he never stopped to read between the lines, to see the big picture. Instead, his insecurities began to plague him again until one day you both snapped.

"I just don't understand why we still have to hide!" He says with a frustrated growl, pinching the area between the bridge of his nose and his eyebrows.

"Because I can't be without you!" You say back, voice raising to a dangerous level as you become irritated at having the same conversation over and over again. "If my family find out that's it, they'll force me to stop dating you, lock me away. I'll never be able to leave then."

"So what, I'm just a part of your plan? A stepping stone for you to break away and then as soon as you're free you can throw me away? Thanks for that mate, sorry to using you and all," he mocks, only furthering your anger that you're painfully trying to repress.

"Using you? You think that's what this is? You think you're just a pawn for me, even after two years of loving you?"

"You tell me," he says, eyes dark.

"Unbelievable," you say under your breath, closing your eyes as you take a seat on one of the wooden crates down in the passageway between the staircases and Honeydukes, your regular spot.

"Or are you embarrassed by me, is that it? The poor, scruffy Weasley boy that fell for the rich, beautiful Malfoy. The prophet would have a field day, wonder if they'll make us into a film," he rants, a vicious side appearing in his tone. "The deatheater and the peasant."

"How dare you!" You say, standing up in a fit of rage, squaring up to him like you'd never done before; the insult he'd so readily dished out feeling like a blast to the heart. "I'm no more a death eater than you are you prick! You think I'm embarrassed of you? I think you're ashamed of me, ashamed that you fell for the bad seed, the villain. I think you can't stand that I'm a Malfoy and you know it. My surname bothers you much more than your's bothers me."

"Yeah maybe it does."

Silence. His words are met with sheer silence, except for the pounding of your breaking heart. I'm your worst nightmares you'd never expected those words to fall from his lips, for him to admit the thing you'd been fearing the most since your crush of him started to bloom. You were tainted goods, a person that tried her hardest to be good that would always be haunted and spoiled by her name.

"No, no sweetheart I didn't mean, I don't think that," he began backtracking, realising that he'd gone way too far this time. "It makes me crazy that I can't shout from the bloody roof that you're mine no matter how much I want to. I don't care that you're a... Malfoy," he says, reaching out for you to hold you close, knowing that he was hanging by a thread here.

You're quiet for a moment as you take in his words, unsure of how to proceed.

"Maybe you're right, about it all," you paused. "But if you wanted me to believe all that, you should have said my surname with less disgust."

You turned around walked away, ignoring his calls, barely holding yourself together until you made it back to your dormitory and finally allowing yourself to sob. You should have known you could never be happy, it was ridiculous to think that anyone could ever get past the fact that you were born to be bad.

The week that followed before the holiday was sheer torture. You gathered sympathetic looks front your friends, or rather Fred's friends but were unable to get any actual comfort as you couldn't fraternise with the social enemy.

Fred however, hadn't spared you a single glance since that evening in the tunnel, the fight that had ended your relationship, or so it seemed. He went back to pretending you didn't exist, believing your harsh words all to easily. He'd said things on his side too but you thought, stupidly, that you'd be able to explain that you were simply retaliating. Apparently he wouldn't give you a chance to explain.

"Maybe you're right, about it all."

Those words haunted you, cut you deeper than any splinching ever could. If only you'd pushed down your anger, never said those words, he'd still be yours. But now he wasn't.

Christmas break was miserable, even more so than usual as you sat alone in your bedroom, physically and mentally distanced from any sense of company.

You though of Fred often, wondering what he was up to, wondering if he was happy. You hoped his dad was okay after hearing through the grapevine about his attack. You hoped that even if it was just a little, that he was missing you.

When you got back to school, you were just as miserable and separated from your peers as you were at home. The friendship group you'd built up of good people still have you distanced smiles and sympathetic glances but you felt the distance more than ever. It lasted for a few days before you'd had enough, completely depleted and in need of something good back, you needed Fred. You tried to think of ways to get him alone, to explain but you couldn't think of anything. You sat in the Great Hall, completely separated from your Gryffindor friends and sat between two of the most bearable Slytherins you could find, trying to ignore the boasting and mockery your brother was bestowing a little further up the table.

It makes me crazy that I can't shout from the bloody roof that you're mine no matter how much I want to.

You looked around you, considering your options. It wasn't a rooftop per se, but it would do.

You climbed up on the table, unfazed by the cries of outrage of the people around you as you ascended, trying to be mindful of the plates and glasses on the table. Draco shouts at you to get down, what are you doing, but much like always, you ignore him. The commotion began pulling people's attention towards you but you knew you had to make it quick because the faculty and teachers were starting to notice.

"I have something to say," you said, projecting your voice until you were certain you’d be heard across the hall. “I’ve been hiding something, for so long, something that never should have been hidden in the first place. I was scared and stupid. I’m a Malfoy, a Slytherin… but I’m completely and hopelessly in love with a Gryffindor.” You look up to where Fred is watching you with wide eyes, the first hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Your eyes quickly flick over to George who is beaming at you, enjoying the demented display you were putting on, encouraging you to continue before you lost your nerve.

“Fred Weasley I’ve loved you since that bloody third year Quidditch match when George hit that bludger at Snape and you winked at me for laughing. You told me that we didn’t have to hide, that you’d shout from the rooftops, well this is the best I could do considering.”

Fred makes his way to you quickly, sensing that the teachers were on their way to inevitably punish you.

“You’re bloody insane woman,” he says with a laugh, unfazed by the entire hall watching you as he holds out his hand for you to come down. You smile at him, so happy to see him smile at you again, to hear his voice.

“Y/n Malfoy! Get down, get down! Detention!”

Instead of helping you down, Fred suddenly seizes your hand and uses you to pull himself up until he was also stood on top of the Slytherin table, cackling at the groans of the other slytherins around you.

“Mr Weasley, detention!”

“More time to spend with you,” he shrugs, smiling as he bends down to kiss you wildly in the middle of the hall as cheers erupt around you, making you both laugh into the kiss.

“It really doesn’t bother you that I’m a Malfoy?” You ask, suddenly bothered by what he’d said before as you pull away slightly. His hand holds your cheek as he smirks, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not gonna be a Malfoy for much longer, I plan on making you a Weasley as soon as possible.”

Taglist requests

@ferntv

@aigowen

@that-lame-ghoul9000

@jules-with-stars

@sleepiemocha

@seppys-return-to-madness

@wtvbabes

@the-mrs-malik-styles

@cedslover

@nisapoosworld

@dashhhhkaaa

@ghostlytv

@nerdymesss

@costheticbabe

@cliffburtonscig

@lildrunkjkk

@levylovegood

@jewelsrules

@jphxnix

@asuperconfusedgirl

@staceys-moms-thighs

@nighttimewrites

@egghasnoleg

@mel119g

@angelrioter

@minatozsana

@quinny921

@blahhh819

@comicgollum20

@moonieseyelash

@marisimps

@xslashers

@70s-chic

@shadyunknowncreation

@rockabieesstuff

@moon-2424

@chx-la

@malenk

@jimmywoosimp

@soulessfictionaddict

@twistedlaces1909

@brookiecookiez0

@nightowlgirl

@fiathefirst

@rybrewer82-blog

@cryb4by-te4rs

@rainingsky37

@learninglinesintherainn

@autumnboo126

@football1921

@in-the-middle-of-the-sadness

@rk-ceres

@kisses4fred

@apolloleprince

@slashersimpshadow

@slytherinambitious

@screamingoverfiction

@rhunew

@tomhockstetter7-111

@hagridshaircare

@ellouisa17

@fonderaura

@clemlament

@jennapancake

@murderisfunlol

@ohantonia

@storytime-20

@guavacookie23

@satansdarlin

@smartoneamia

@littlelillysjs

@victorylr

@nanamisfootrest

@nulixity

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: "Love" Letter

(Eventual) George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Summary: George isn't too keen on his older brother Charlie visiting.

Word Count: 1232

Reader: Female

Warnings: None!

Author’s Note: Shout out to everyone who keeps reading these. I have been posting these for the last 5 years and there is no schedule what so ever. I have a huge backlog of these when I need comfort.

If you have requests for this series, please send them. No promises when they will get done but you will be tagged.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

=====

The corridors are bursting at the seams when the clock signals the end of the day. The extra two student bodies make it almost impossible to move down the hallway at even a turtle’s pace. Yet, that does not stop you as you drag Ginny through the current of people. Some Beauxbatons girls send you glares at the lack of manners when you plow through them but you don't care. 

You didn’t remember when you picked up the youngest Weasley, you just saw a tuff of the familiar shade of red long hair and started dragging her to the next destination.

The leaves crunch under your Oxfords when you stomp onto the grounds in front of the clocktower. You finally come to a barreling stop, sending Ginny to almost trip over herself before you catch her.

After a moment of you helping her steady herself, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “What’s gotten into you?” She just gets a brief moment of eye contact before your eyes flick to her tie. The thing is a mess, tangled messily and you can’t help but shove a piece of parchment under your armpit and reach out to fix it.

The motions of untying the scarlet knot seem to bring you back, the muscle memory of it all pulling your racing mind to a halt. “Just-“ Your lips pull into a grin, the sprinting across the castle and slight autumn breeze adding color to the apples of your cheeks. “Just excited, that's all.” The parchment under your arm burns mockingly at your understatement.

Ginny stares at you while you fix the tie she so hastily slugged on this morning to beat the traffic. She runs different scenarios in her head that might cause such a reaction, the color on your cheeks seems like a blush… “Did your sweet Georgie finally write you a love let—“ She cuts herself off with a choking sound when you tighten her tie a little too tight.

The warning glint in your eye when you so innocently look back at her tells her she’s wrong yet she can’t help the teasing grin that slips onto her own face at the reaction. “Worse than my own little brother sometimes.” You mumble, fixing her hair back over her shoulders before turning away.

She rolls her eyes, knowing the quip was joking considering you give her your “hand-me-downs” that somehow always fit her perfectly. But she has no time to call you out because you’re grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the group of her brothers sitting by the fountain.

You stop before the three of them, still out of breath with one hand gripping the piece of parchment and the other cutting off the circulation in Ginny’s hand. The breeze ruffles your hair even more, the strands that fell out of your hair-do tickling your nose.

The good mood you were in dampers slightly when you see Ron staring up at you from his place by his brothers. You let out a hum, annoyed to see him since he’s still giving poor Harry a hard time.

The fourth year shared an almost identical eyeroll to his sister’s from earlier as he munches on some candy. “What do you want, Malfoy?” The twins' heads comically snap up at his tone, both giving their little brother different disgusted looks.

“I thought the agreement was you don’t talk and we let you sit by us.” Fred reminds the boy and you honestly wonder how his eyes didn’t roll out of this head. He mumbles something under his breath before shoving a handful of chocolates into his mouth again.

The twins finally turn to you, who is nearly vibrating out of your skin at this point with the news you’ve been holding in for the last few hours. “What’s with the impromptu family reunion?” He greets you with.

You release Ginny’s hand and hold out the piece of parchment out like a kid showing their mom their highly scored exam. “This.” You gleam with a lift to your voice.

“What is it?”

“Secret admirer.” Ginny’s response earns her a glare from George.

You let out a dreamy sigh, turning the paper over to read the words again, “Even better.” The three siblings all hold in their amusement at George’s abrupt standing. He swiftly switches places with his sister who gladly takes her seat on the lip of the fountain.

The taller boy tries to read the supposed letter over your shoulder but you are quick to hug it to your chest. “You know how your brother is… visiting.” They all nod, “Well, Charlie convinced Dumbledore to let me see the dragons when they all come as long as I don’t tell anyone.”

“Doing a grand job at that.” Ron snorts but you ignore him, too excited to entertain his snarkiness. 

“How did you even find out about him coming?”

You shrug, oh so casually with the bomb you drop on poor Georgie’s heart. “Oh, well, he told me.”

“When?”

You scoff like he knew that you’ve been pen pals with his hotter older brother who takes care of dragons. “Our last letter. Come on, Georgie, he’s been sending me letters ever since the whole Norbert thing. He even said that they might be taking interns this summer and he’ll put in a good word for me.”

“Since third year?” He mutters out, acting as if you just told him that they blocked all the secret passageways they memorized from that map. “Before we were even friends?”

You shrug, mumbling a “I thought we were friends.” under your breath before perking up again. “Well, just thought I’d tell you lot so you wouldn’t be so surprised to see me down there in a couple days. Plus, this is like the best thing that’s happened to me since I saw Buckbeak take a chunk out of Draco and I can’t even tell Cedric anything.”

George’s mind is doing laps around the castle grounds at how fast you’re moving past the topic of exchanging letters with his cool brother for the last three years. He doesn’t even hear you talking with the rest of his siblings before you announce you were heading to the library to draft up a list of questions to ask Charlie and his fellow dragon tamers.

He snaps out of his trance as you start to walk away, grabbing the strap of your bag to get your attention. The three are Weasley’s left sitting there struggling at this point to keep their composure, just watching their brother almost beg his crush for one drop of recognition. 

The tall redhead doesn’t even ask to come with you, he just leaves you standing there confused as he gathers his things from the courtyard’s floor and snatches the parchment from your hands before walking away.

You whine out his name, now trailing after him to get back the letter that confirmed your visit. George nearly preens at you following him, every so often jumping and bumping into him to get your letter from his outstretched hand.

“I can’t wait for Charlie to visit now.” Ginny is the one to break the silence after you and George disappear in the crowd at the doors under the clock. The two brothers let out a fit of giggles, barely audible words of agreement between laughs.

[thimbleandakiss]

Christmas Colors

Malfoy!Reader x Fred Weasley

Summary: Coerced into attending the Yule Ball, you expect to have a miserable time watching your secret boyfriend dancing and having fun. Little do you know; he already has some tricks up his dress robes' sleeves.

Content: Dancing, fluff, sibling angst, secret dating, mild cursing, and suggestive ending

Cross-posted on Ao3

If you like this, I have a longfic going on Ao3 exploring this exact premise! <33

Enjoy this playlist while you read if you feel so inclined

I don't know what I'm doing here. 

How did I let Pansy talk me into this? She'd promised she'd stay with me, that we'd have fun as friends. However, just as predicted, she'd disappeared roughly five minutes into the dance and was now somewhere in this writhing mass of teenagers, probably rubbing up against Draco. 

The mental image alone was almost enough to make me gag. 

Against my better judgement, I scan the undulating sea of people, looking for a particular ginger wizard. My brow furrows. It really shouldn't be so hard to find him, the man's a giant. From my vantage point in the corner of what once was the Great Hall, I can spot his twin brother, George, dancing with his girlfriend Angelina close to the live music stage, and near the refreshments table, Ron's sulking with Harry. I scoff at the sight. He really knows how to be miserable in any situation, doesn't he? 

I can see Ginny chatting with Neville and some other Gryffindors I can't bother to remember the names of around one of the circular tables, but of all the heads of fiery red hair I found, none belong to the only one I simultaneously hope and dread to see. 

"Sulking again, Malfoy?" His deep voice sounds so close behind me, I yelp and damn near jump out of my dress. 

Whipping around, I do my best to put on the signature holier-than-thou Malfoy attitude, even as relief weakens my knees. Fred's barely containing a smirk, mischief sparkling in his eyes. My own lips twitch at the sight. 

"Better than fraternizing with mudbloods and blood traitors," I reply coolly, and I know it's not just my tight bodice pressing against my lungs with the words. 

I can see on his face he knows I don't mean what I say. His gaze rakes over me, and I suppress the urge to shiver. I should leave. We can't be seen together for too long without incurring suspicion. 

"Emerald," He observes, taking in the deep green of the gown I wear, courtesy of my mother. The elegant satin hugs the curves of my torso, the skirt dropping off at my waist, cut by a slit that rides rather high up my right thigh. The off-the-shoulder sleeves hang just over my biceps. "Isn't that a tad... cliche?" 

"It's traditional," I correct, giving him a once-over myself. "I'm shocked you're not clad head-to-toe in crimson." 

Fred breaks out into a wide grin, his head bending forward as he lets out a chuckle, and my heart stutters. Strands of his coppery hair hang in front of his eyes, my hands twitching at my sides to brush it off his forehead. 

He reaches forward and takes ahold of my hand. The callouses of his fingers grazing against my skin sends sparks skittering through my blood. "I'm glad you came, love," He murmurs, eyes sparkling. 

I blanche and attempt to tug my hand out of his grasp. "Fred, we can't-" 

"Relax," he drawls, not allowing me to step away. "I have an idea. Come on."

I don't have much choice as he pulls me from the ballroom, expertly weaving me behind the several Christmas trees that decorate the space, allowing us to remain out of sight the entire way. We duck through a small side door, and suddenly we're alone. 

The music still permeates the corridor, but the roar of a multitude of simultaneous conversations dulls to just a hum. Fred drops my hand and walks a few paces away before spinning to face me, giving me a lopsided grin that forces a smile onto my own face. 

"You really thought I'd let my gorgeous girlfriend arrive in a simply stunning dress, her hair done immaculately, and sit in a corner scowling at everyone all bloody evening?" 

I scoff and roll at his exaggerated manner of speaking, but I'll be damned if I don't feel a flush bloom across my face. He never ceases to amaze me, the cheeky bastard. I'm a little surprised he'd even noticed my hair. The darker top half was done up in a braided half-crown, leaving the lighter remainder loose over my shoulders. 

"So... you dragged me out here to flatter me?" I question, lifting an eyebrow. 

"You wound me, love," he replies with an exaggerated pout that lasts about two seconds before he's grinning again. 

He gives a slight bow and reaches out his right hand. "May I have this dance?"

It's then that I notice the music has changed. The party music has eased into something slower paced. Something romantic. Fred has absolutely no right to have timing this good. 

I can't help the way my entire being seems to soften. I reach out and take his hand. "I would love to." 

He sweeps me up into a perfect waltz position and the entire world fades away. He's a bloody good dancer, giving me enough time to find the rhythm of the dance before gently pushing me away from him, lifting his hand, and spinning me. He pulls me back against his chest and drops my hand in favor of wrapping his arms around my waist, to which I respond by slinging my arms around his neck. 

"You're sure I can't obliviate your father into forgetting how to be a bigoted piece of shit?" Fred asks, his face leaned so close to mine that his warm breath fanned across my face. 

I snort softly, smiling and shaking my head. "I unfortunately don't think that'll work," I inform him, but I can't stop myself from imagining. 

How nice would it be if we didn't have to hide? If I didn't have to risk my inheritance, home, reputation, possibly even my life by seeing him? My smile slowly starts to fade. 

"Hey..." Fred says gently, nudging my forehead with his, "none of that. Forget your worries for a night, and let's dance, love, yeah?"

A slow smirk spreads across my face as I refocus on him. "I'll do you one better," I hum, and, using my grip around the back of his neck, pull him down for a kiss. 

He makes a slight oomph sound but it's only seconds before one of his hands is woven into the strands of my hair. He gently guides me until my back is against a wall, head tilted, bodies pressed as close as possible. It briefly crosses my mind that my dark lipstick will probably smear onto his lips. In the next instant I decide I don't care. 

His free hand brushes up my waist, thumb momentarily caressing my ribcage before trailing back down and settling against my hip. He tastes like cinnamon, smoke, and sweets. Just as I really start to lose myself in him, the sound of the heavy oak door opening and shutting, and short giggle, echo through the hall. 

Fred pulls away from me in an instant, skin flushed, running his thumb over his lips, and I whirl to see who dares to intrude upon our moment. My indignation swiftly fizzles out into dread as I recognize Pansy... and my little brother. 

Draco glances at Fred, then slowly turns to me and we lock eyes. It's not hard to put two and two together. Pansy seems to have somehow managed to already get herself intoxicated, both clinging to, and falling onto, Draco's arm. 

I hold his gaze, my hands flexing by my sides, swallowing. I have nothing to say in my defense. Neither does Fred, though I don't fail to notice how he's subtly stepped in front of me. 

My brother's always been a little shit, throwing our wealth, blood status, and name around any chance he got to get whatever he wanted. He cried to Father at every little inconvenience. But I saw through him. I saw through his ruse of the snobby little brat, because I understood, had witnessed the pressure he was under. As the only son, he bore the sole responsibility of carrying on the Malfoy family name, and therefore ensuring the bloodline remained pure. His attitude was a mask he wore to keep from crumbling under weight of our reality. 

We look at each other for a heartbeat longer, and he gives the tiniest of nods. "Not here, darling," he says, turning the drunk girl in his arms around. "I've got a better spot." 

My feet remain rooted to the stone, long after their voices fade into the distance. 

Fred's hand gently brushes against the small of my back. "Love?"

I jolt, physically shaking myself out of it, and glance up at him. "Mm?" I hum in reply.

"If something ever... goes wrong, at home, you know you're welcome at the Burrow, right?"

I give him a tight smile. "Draco won't tell," I murmur, looking off to the side. 

Fred shook his head. "I don't trust that git for a damn second. But that's not the point. I want you to know you have somewhere to go. Somewhere safe. Just remember that, yeah?"

I don't reply, brows furrowed as I stare at the stone floors, as if they might yield a solution. He gently takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him.

"Yeah?" He repeats, a little firmer this time.

"...Yeah," I confirm, giving him a watery smile. 

He nods, satisfied, dropping my chin in favor of my hand. "Good. Now, come. Gryffindor tower is bound to be empty right now, and that dress looks awfully uncomfortable..." He scrunches his nose teasingly. 

I snort. Leave it to Fred to find a way to lighten the mood. 

I squeeze his hand and scrunch up my nose to mirror his.

"Lead the way, Weasley."

[chloe-skywalker]

Detention - Draco Malfoy

Draco x sister fem!reader

Warnings: Mention of Umbridge torture

Word count: 746

Summary: Umbridge doing the torture scar’s to Y/n Malfoy, and Draco’s pissed and tells their parnets.

Authors Note: Part 2? Where their parents got Draco’s owl and come to Hogwarts concerned and pissed? (& they find out why she got detention in the first place)

Harry Potter Masterlist

Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Where have you been?” Draco asked as Y/n finally came and sat at the Slytherin in the great hall.

“Umbridge gave me detention for the entire month.” Y/n scoffed annoyed at the way things had become. School was where she felt she could relax some, since Malfoy Manner wasn’t a place of relaxation. But with all the changes school was feeling a lot like home.

“Why?” Draco furrowed his brow concerned and concerned and confused for his sister.

“She said it was because I kept my desk’s to disoganized.” Y/n shrugged not to sure why she got detention in the first place.

“Thats bull.” Draco scowled, his sister was always so clean and kept. Draco didn’t believe it for a second. Besides why would someone get detention for that?

“I agree.” Y/n nodded.

“At least its just a month.” He concluded hoping to ease her nerves that Draco was sure she was feeling. Knowing their parents were to hear of this and not be thrilled.

“Yeah.” Y/n sighed, hoping that the letter going home about this detention would get lost.

It wasn’t home she should of been worrying about as she soon learned. Once she started her series of detentions Y/n Malfoy found out who the true monster in Hogwarts was.

Detention was terribly stressful and anxiety ridden. On top of that she had gotten a letter from home that wasn’t the nicest ither. But from the words written it didn’t sound like they were told ‘why’ she was having detentions, and y/n felt like if they knew ‘why’ then they wouldn’t be nearly as mad.

But Y/n was to afraid to write back. What if it made things worse, what if Umbridge intercepted her letter?! No way, she couldn’t risk it and make her punishments worse.

But it was becoming increasingly hard to hide her hand from her brother. Their twin bond didn’t help and she could tell Draco knew something was up. Y/n was worried if she told him that he might view her as weak.

All that came crashing down around her one day in the library. Draco came storming in and headed straight towards her and sat down. Determined to get answers.

“What's wrong Draco?” Y/n asked once he sat down having watched his dramatic entrance, and noticing her antsy behavior.

“Why’s your hand wrapped?” He asked. It had been bothering him for awhile, he was already concerned about his twin 24/7. But seeing her hurt was ripping him apart on the inside.

“I got hurt.” Y/n cast her gaze downward, nervously picking at a loose thread on her skirt.

“How? Let me see.” Draco jumps immediately into protective mode, very concerned.

“Draco-”

Y/n tried to stop him but he had already reached foreward and grabbed abhold of her hand. Pulling off the bandage wrap and exposing the carvings into her hand that would definitely scar.

“What’s this?” Draco questioned with wide eye’s looking between Y/n and her torn up hand. Seeing horrible, nasty, un-true words carved into her hand made Draco want to cry. And with looking into his sisters eye’s seeing all the emotions and tears in them broke his heart. “Y/n, where’d you get this? Who did this to you?”

Y/n knew there was no point in trying to lie to him now that he’s seen the evidence. “Umbridge, and at detention. It’s her version of it.”

“This is unethical and torture.” He growled in anger that someone dared to harm his sister.

“Trust me, I know.” Y/n pulled her hand back and wrapped it back up again, so it wouldn’t get infected but also so no one would see.

“How many times?” Draco asked even though he knows he doesn’t want to hear it’s been more than once, he knows it’s been more than 1 time.

“4. So far. But I still have the rest of the month.” She told him shakily, nervous about having to go through more of this torture.

“I’ll tell father and mother about this. She’s not going to touch you again.” Draco states pulling her into him to comfort her, noting her shakiness, which he’s very sure was going to lead to a panic attack.

That night after dinner Draco wrote a letter explaining the situation to their parents on paper, and sent it around midnight to assure no one would notice anywhere in the castle.

Taglist:

@gruffle1 @padawancat97

[jamilelucato]

Secrets We Keep [F.W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x [y/n] Malfoy

Summary: [y/n] Malfoy struggles with her family's dark secrets while navigating her final year at Hogwarts. A bizarre Defence Against the Dark Arts class forces her into unexpected alliances.

Warning: Mentions of dark magic, family drama, mild angst

A/N: Hey everyone! This one was inspired by the song Bad Idea from the musical Waitress. It’s going to have plenty of forbidden feelings. And yes, [Y/N] Malfoy is supposed to have the silver hair and the family looks, so I hope that doesn't put anyone off. I plan this to be a 4 part ride, and I have the rest ready to post, I’ll just give it a gap between the posts. Hope you enjoy this ride!

Secrets We Keep Masterlist (check it out for the updates!)

PART ONE

Her straight blond locks fell over her shoulders as she meticulously brushed her hair, part by part. The Slytherin dormitory provided her with a sizeable mirror—not as grand or as ornate as the one in her room at Malfoy Manor, but an acceptable looking glass perched atop a small, dark wood dressing table.

[y/n] Malfoy, the firstborn of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, carried a weighty legacy. Despite being female and, by tradition, barely an heir to anything substantial, she had a status to uphold. She was expected to set an example for the youngest in the family, Draco, who was two years her junior. The Malfoy lineage was strikingly consistent: father and offspring alike shared the same silver hair and sharp facial features. But their similarities went beyond appearances—personality, too, seemed an inheritance in the Malfoy bloodline.

At least, that was the consensus. Fred Weasley, however, recalled [y/n] as being somewhat kinder during her first and second years at Hogwarts. It seemed her brother’s influence had a way of souring anyone’s demeanour with his mere presence.

Not that Fred was keen to defend her. He simply believed in keeping the facts straight.

But that was a thought for another time. For now, [y/n] Malfoy was simply brushing her hair before bed.

“Do you think this year will be different?” she asked, addressing the girls in her dormitory. Her question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular.

“Whatever do you mean?” replied the darkest-haired girl in the room, her tone slightly curious.

“Last year, a student was killed,” [y/n] said, her voice thoughtful. “The school must have been horrified. Perhaps they’ll change some rules this year.” She placed her comb on the dressing table and turned to face the others, casting a final glance at her reflection. “I’m sure the parents weren’t happy.”

“Some were,” came a soft whisper from the smallest girl in the room. Petite in stature but formidable in character, she was known for her strong opinions.

The group chose to ignore the comment. It was safer not to delve into why certain parents might have approved of the tragedy. Slytherins often shared common ground, but values varied greatly from one family to another. It was only natural.

“Do you suppose they’ll add a curfew or something?” asked the dark-haired girl.

“We already have a curfew,” pointed out a blond girl seated in the corner next to [y/n].

“Really?” The dark-haired girl sounded genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Either way,” the blond girl continued, “if anything were going to change, they would’ve announced it tonight at dinner.”

“Dumbledore kind of did,” [y/n] said, tilting her head thoughtfully as she recalled the new face at the professors’ table. “When he introduced Professor Umbridge.”

“She seemed… pinkly nice,” the dark-haired girl scoffed, her tone dripping with irony as she thought of the new professor’s saccharine wardrobe.

The room filled with quiet chuckles, though no one voiced what they were all thinking: it was bound to be an interesting year at Hogwarts.

[y/n] climbed into bed, wishing more than anything for this school year to be over. Her final year at Hogwarts loomed ahead, demanding more from her than ever. There were lessons to master, exams to ace, and expectations to exceed. Perfect scores were a non-negotiable; her parents expected nothing less, and she was determined to show Draco—smug and competitive as ever—that Malfoys always set the standard.

Yet, sleep didn’t come easily that night. Her mind was restless, racing with thoughts she couldn’t quite untangle. It was absurd—she always had too much on her mind, but it had never stopped her from falling asleep before. Restless and uneasy, she glanced around the room. The rhythmic breathing of her four roommates confirmed they were sound asleep. Slipping out of bed, [y/n] grabbed her dark green slippers and heavy fur-lined coat, moving silently to avoid disturbing anyone.

Once in the dimly lit corridors, she considered stopping by the underwater window in the Slytherin common room. Watching the occasional fish glide past the glass might calm her, might lull her into the drowsiness she craved—but she dismissed the idea almost immediately. She didn’t have the patience to wait for a stray creature to appear.

Instead, she wandered, her slippered feet padding softly against the cold floors of the castle. She didn’t have a destination in mind. Perhaps a long walk would tire her out, or at least give her restless thoughts somewhere else to go.

But no matter how far she walked, one thought remained rooted firmly in her mind. It was a revelation she had stumbled upon at the end of the last school year, one that haunted her more than she cared to admit. For so long, she’d managed to ignore the small signs, dismissing them with self-spun lies. “My parents are just meanies,” she would tell herself whenever their behaviour didn’t sit right. “They’re just... particular.”

The cracks in those lies began to show when she returned home last summer, the news of Cedric Diggory’s death casting a shadow over the wizarding world. Cedric’s murder, tied to whispers of the Dark Lord’s return, should have shaken her family. But their reactions were anything but expected. Narcissa had been anxious, drinking glass after glass of wine for two days straight, while Lucius, ever composed, placed a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder and said, with unnerving calm, “Don’t worry, dear. You will never be in danger.”

What followed was even more unsettling. Seven days after Cedric’s death, instead of mourning or showing respect for the boy’s memory, the Malfoys hosted a dinner party. Their carefully selected guests brought no laughter, no celebration—but neither was there grief. Instead, all [y/n] heard was frustrated murmuring: “Who failed to get the right boy?!”

That evening shattered any illusions she’d clung to. Her family—the noble, proud, and pure Malfoy line—was not simply complicit. They were part of it. Part of him. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had returned, and the Malfoys were among those responsible.

Her steps slowed as she reached the edge of a stairwell, her hand gripping the cool stone railing. She hated herself for not knowing sooner, for not wanting to know. But now that she did, the weight of the truth was inescapable.

She sat down on the bottom step, letting her black furry robe cascade down to the floor below. She had wandered far, at least three floors above the Slytherin common room. Here, in the stillness of the upper castle, she knew she wouldn’t be disturbed. She took out a pocket watch, old and worn, but made of white gold, rare at the time and one of the few heirlooms that she could receive as a woman. She flicked it open and checked the time: late enough that no curious professor or wandering prefect would be about.

Satisfied, [y/n] tucked the watch away and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head against her knees, and finally, the tears she’d held in for so long began to fall. She cried silently, just as she’d been taught at home. No sobs, no gasping breaths—only the silent tremble of her shoulders, a skill perfected under the unspoken rules of a family where weakness was not permitted.

Fred Weasley wouldn’t have noticed her if not for the cascade of black fabric pooling at the bottom of the stairs. The dim light caught the edge of the robe, and his sharp eyes picked it out against the stone. He froze, his arm shooting out to block his twin, who was hurrying behind him.

George stumbled to a halt, confused. “What’s wrong?” he mouthed, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Fred didn’t answer. Instead, he placed a finger to his lips, signalling for silence. His eyes flicked downward, toward the shadowy figure huddled on the step below. George followed his gaze and frowned, finally spotting her.

[y/n] Malfoy.

The two brothers had plenty of questions, but haste was their greatest ally at that moment. They needed to disappear before anyone caught them in the aftermath of their latest nocturnal mischief—a botched attempt to sneak into Ravenclaw Tower and plant a stink bomb.

George looked at Fred, his brow raised in silent inquiry. Fred mouthed, “Go ahead,” and lowered the arm that had stopped his twin in his tracks. With a quick nod, George turned on his heel and slipped away, his steps as silent as a whisper against the floor.

But Fred didn’t follow. Instead, he lingered, taking a quiet step closer to the spiral staircase where [y/n] Malfoy sat hidden. The curve of the wall shielded her from view; all he could see was the edge of her dark robe spilling across the step and a glimpse of her feet, clad in green slippers.

Why was he curious? He couldn’t quite answer that, but he knew he was. He and [y/n] were in the same year and shared a handful of classes, but their interactions had been sparse and superficial. Well, unless you counted the times he and George had tried—unsuccessfully—to jinx her. No matter how clever or mischievous their spells, they never seemed to land.

Still, there was one memory that stood out, buried in the back of his mind. It was from when they were fourteen, in a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. That year’s professor had introduced the class to a boggart, and chaos had predictably ensued. Gryffindors being Gryffindors, Fred, George, and Angelina had spent most of the lesson joking and disrupting, so much so that the exasperated professor had rearranged the students, placing a Slytherin between them to restore order. That Slytherin had been [y/n].

Fred remembered her stepping up to face the boggart. She’d handled it quickly, efficiently—so quickly, in fact, that most of the class probably missed what she saw. But Fred hadn’t.

For the briefest moment, the boggart had taken the form of a man with pale hair and sharp, disdainful features: Lucius Malfoy. He hadn’t been angry or menacing. He’d simply looked... disappointed. That was all.

Fred doubted even the professor had caught the detail, and no one had said a word. “Great job, Miss Malfoy,” the teacher had praised, moving on as if nothing had happened.

Fred had been next in line. The boggart shifted into his own worst fear: poverty. The image of himself in tattered robes and empty pockets had haunted him for weeks afterward, but it was [y/n]’s boggart that lingered in his memory.

Now, standing closer to the staircase, Fred’s curiosity only grew. Why was she out here alone? Why had she been crying? The Malfoys weren’t exactly known for public displays of emotion—or for anything remotely vulnerable. Yet there she was, a small figure tucked into the shadows, her robe sprawling across the cold stone like the weight of her world.

Fred knew better than to approach her directly. He leaned slightly closer, just enough to catch a better glimpse, his curiosity warring with the knowledge that he was dangerously close to being discovered.

And still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Fred shifted his weight, leaning further toward the shadows. His breath caught for a moment, his instincts warning him to turn back. The faint scrape of his shoe against the stone echoed far louder than it should have in the silence. Fred froze, his heart leaping to his throat.

[y/n] stiffened, her head snapping up. She didn’t say anything at first, her tear-streaked face half-hidden by the folds of her robe. But then she whispered, her voice trembling and raw, “Who’s there?”

Fred didn’t answer. He held his breath, hoping against hope that she’d dismiss the sound as her imagination. Yet, the fragility in her voice made something twist in his chest—a flicker of guilt, maybe? Or pity? He didn’t know.

She turned slightly, peering into the shadows, her voice breaking as she repeated, “Who’s there?” This time, it was louder, edged with desperation, but still no answer came.

Fred should’ve left then. He should’ve melted into the darkness like George had, unseen and unnoticed. But his feet refused to move. Instead, his gaze lingered on her hunched form, her vulnerability cutting through the layers of family loyalty and Slytherin pride that normally defined her.

For a fleeting moment, he wavered. Maybe she deserved... something. A word, a gesture, anything to acknowledge that she was seen. However, the blood in her veins was steeped in a legacy of superiority and cruelty, and Fred couldn’t let himself forget that.

He clenched his jaw, his decision solidifying like ice around his chest. She didn’t deserve his sympathy. Whatever she was dealing with, it wasn’t his problem. He was Fred Weasley, a Gryffindor, a prankster, a fighter. Not a saviour for a Slytherin.

Finally, he took a step back, his movements careful and deliberate. The faintest creak of his shoe betrayed him, but he didn’t stop. 

[y/n] sat frozen, her breath hitching. She’d heard something, she was sure of it. But the silence stretched on, unbroken, save for the faint hum of the castle at night. She wiped her face hastily, her hands trembling, and forced herself to rise. Her legs felt weak beneath her, but she needed to move. To leave this place before whatever—or whoever—was lurking in the shadows revealed itself.

As she straightened, her gaze darted to the edge of the corridor. For the briefest second, she caught sight of a flicker of movement—a flash of red disappearing around the corner. Her breath caught, and her heart skipped a beat. She blinked, unsure if her tired, tear-filled eyes were playing tricks on her.

“A Weasley?” she whispered, the name barely audible. It lingered in the air for only a moment before she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Not every redhead is a Weasley, she reminded herself. Slytherin had a few, though none quite as conspicuous as that meddlesome family.

Still, her gut twisted. It felt like a Weasley. There was something about that fleeting glimpse that set her nerves on edge, a certainty she couldn’t explain. But it didn’t matter—or at least, it shouldn’t.

Her jaw tightened, and she pulled her robe closer, as if shielding herself from the thought. If it was a Weasley, she could only hope they hadn’t seen her like this. A Malfoy caught alone, out of bounds, and vulnerable? The scandal would ripple through the school faster than a firework spell gone wrong. And worse, it might reach Draco—or even her parents.

No, it was best not to dwell on it. She took a steadying breath, forcing the errant thought away. The Weasleys were nothing but trouble, always aligning themselves with chaos and rebellion. She couldn’t afford to let herself be dragged into their orbit, even accidentally.

Adjusting her posture, she turned back toward the stairwell. Whatever she had seen—or imagined—was no longer her concern.

TWO DAYS LATER

For reasons she could barely articulate, [y/n] Malfoy despised Defence Against the Dark Arts. It wasn’t just the subject itself—though she struggled with it more than she’d care to admit—but the entire ordeal of the class. Of course, no one knew this. She had ensured her parents never glimpsed so much as a hint of a subpar grade, and her classmates were none the wiser. She’d mastered the art of pretence, hiding her shortcomings behind charm and an uncanny knack for ingratiating herself with whichever professor was unlucky enough to take the position that year.

Her strategy was simple but effective: always smile, always volunteer. Clean the board, stay after hours, distribute handouts, or organize supplies—whatever needed doing, she was there to do it before the professor could even finish their request. Her fourth year, when Gilderoy Lockhart had been in charge, had been an exhausting marathon of fetching, flattering, and faking enthusiasm.

This year, however, presented an unexpected obstacle: Dolores Umbridge.

The new professor, swathed in an alarming amount of pink and armed with a sickly sweet smile, had proven frustratingly independent. [y/n] had tried to get ahead of the game, visiting the professor’s office the day before the first class.

“Thank you, dear, for the offer,” Umbridge had said, her saccharine voice dripping with false warmth as she sipped her tea. “But I shan’t need any assistance at the moment. You, children, are such a pleasure to care for, truly, and I prefer to manage things myself to ensure perfection. But rest assured, I’ll let you know if that changes.”

[y/n] had smiled politely, her stomach twisting in quiet fury as she left the office. She already hated the woman.

Umbridge’s pink walls and cat-covered plates were nauseating, but it was her demeanour that grated most. That high-pitched, syrupy tone and the way she wielded authority like a sugar-coated dagger—it was unbearable. [y/n] had spent years perfecting the art of blending in and appeasing authority figures, and now, for the first time, it felt like her carefully honed tactics had hit a wall.

With a resigned sigh, [y/n] accepted that her final year of Defence Against the Dark Arts would be a war waged on a battlefield of textbooks and long nights of study. No amount of flattery or feigned interest would get her through this class. She knew that as soon as she walked into her first lesson, hellish and eternal as it promised to be.

“Put away your wands,” Umbridge declared in her sickly sweet voice, the sound grating after mere seconds. “In this class, they won’t be necessary.”

[y/n] wasn’t the only one whose eyebrow arched confused. A quick glance around the room revealed identical expressions on almost every face. A class meant to teach defence magic that forbade the use of wands? How were students supposed to defend themselves, then?

Unintentionally, her gaze fell on the table behind hers—the one where the Weasley twins sat. Predictably, Fred and George looked less amused than bewildered. Their confusion was a rare sight; usually, they thrived on chaos. Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, while designed to teach practical spells for protection, had often served them well as inspiration for their pranks and traps.

Now, even they seemed uncertain of how to proceed, and [y/n] couldn’t help but wonder if they, too, had realized how absurd this year’s lessons were about to become.

The atmosphere in the classroom was tense. Dolores Umbridge’s insistence had left the students more confused than enlightened. Seated at her usual place, [y/n] Malfoy folded her hands on the desk, her brow furrowed as she struggled to decipher the logic behind Umbridge’s declaration.

“You see, dears,” Umbridge began, her shrill voice cutting through the murmurs, “the Ministry’s position is that the Dark Arts are more of a historical concern than a present-day threat. Why, the idea that we must arm ourselves for combat is frightfully outdated! We shall focus on theory instead, for knowledge—not spells—is your true defence.”

Several students exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to speak. Umbridge continued, her smile growing wider, “After all, a true witch or wizard must rely on their intelligence and resourcefulness. Wands, my dear children, are not the only tools at your disposal. Often, they are unnecessary.”

That was when a Gryffindor boy, seated near the back, couldn’t contain himself any longer. “But what about when we’re attacked? Or if…” He trailed off, as if realizing he might have said too much. [y/n] glanced his way, trying to recall his name but coming up blank. All she could remember was that he was tall and had a persistent habit of speaking his mind.

Umbridge’s face remained fixed in its saccharine expression, but her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “Attacked? Oh, what a dramatic imagination you have. There is no evidence to suggest you are at risk. If, however, you’re so intent on preparing for scenarios that are unlikely to occur,”—her voice turned ever so slightly sharper—“I shall give you an assignment to expand your understanding.”

She clapped her hands, the sound unnaturally loud in the stifling silence. “You will work in groups of three to research the theme: Wands Are Not Always Useful for a Wizard. Consider historical examples, theoretical arguments, and practical alternatives. This will teach you to think critically about your overreliance on magic.”

The room broke into an uproar of whispers and grumbles as students began turning to one another, quickly forming groups. [y/n] hesitated, scanning the room. As a Slytherin, she usually gravitated toward her housemates, but today, no one seemed to be looking her way. She caught sight of the girls from her room (even the one that was sharing her table, seconds before) already pulling one another, engrossed in discussion, clearly not sparing her a thought.

She waited a moment longer, hoping someone might notice her. No one did.

Just as the weight of being left out began to sink in, a deliberate, exaggerated cough drew her attention. She turned sharply to see George Weasley, sitting behind her, his hand raised to his mouth as if to stifle another “cough.” Next to him, Fred gave her a mock-innocent smile, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Looks like someone’s in need of a group,” Fred said, leaning forward slightly.

Pairing with the Weasley twins was the last thing she’d expected. They were loud, mischievous, and Gryffindors to the core—everything she was not. But with no other options presenting themselves… she gulped.

“Is that an offer to trio up?” she asked, unsure of their waters. They could be just pranking her, in bad taste.

Fred Weasley did not think the same thing as his twin. What was George thinking? Pairing up with a stuck-up Malfoy? It wasn’t the first time the twins had disagreed on something, but this felt monumental. Sure, she was one of the top students, but she was still a Mal-bloddy-foy!

But George had set the course, and now it was too late to turn back. The invitation was practically extended, even if begrudgingly. Fred sighed and nodded, though the words tasted odd coming out of his mouth.

“Welcome to the Weasley Wizz,” he said, trying to sound natural. “Should I let Mum know we’ve got a third twin now?”

[y/n] recoiled slightly, her face twisting in mock disgust. “No, please,” she replied, her tone genuinely alarmed.

George, watching the exchange, failed miserably at hiding his laughter. The attempt to stifle it only resulted in another exaggerated cough, and the twins exchanged a quick glance.

“So,” George said, recovering just enough to sound composed, though a smirk tugged at his lips. “Should we schedule a day at the library?”

[y/n] blinked at him, then raised a dramatic hand to her chest, pretending to be deeply moved. “Wow. Will I be responsible for getting you two to set foot in the library? I might faint.”

Fred leaned on the desk, deadpan. “Actually, you can thank Umbridge for that miracle.”

She brushed off his jab with a dry laugh. “Sure. As if you’d have bothered if it weren’t for my presence. Let’s be clear—you two are going to work, or I swear I’ll skin you alive if we don’t get a good mark.”

She was right, of course, but neither twin would admit it aloud.

“Sunday afternoon, library. Don’t be late, Malfoy,” George announced, grinning as he leaned back in his chair.

“See you there,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

And just like that, [y/n] Malfoy found herself part of an unlikely trio—a collaboration destined to be anything but ordinary.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

The worst part about being a twin, Fred Weasley thought, was that no matter how hard he tried to keep something from George, his twin always found out. It was like having his own personal Sneakoscope shadowing him at all times. However, the best part of being a twin was that, with one raised eyebrow or a subtle wave of his hand, George would let things go—no questions asked.

Usually.

“Why are you nervous?” George asked now, drawing out each syllable like a curious cat batting at a cornered mouse.

“Nervous? Me?” Fred scoffed, furrowing his brow and twisting his mouth into a picture of exaggerated denial.

The two of them were making their way down the corridor leading to the library—a momentous occasion, as this was not just any trip but their first ever purposeful visit. Fred was sure their arrival would send Madam Pince into cardiac arrest.

George, however, wasn’t about to let the odd energy in Fred’s demeanour slide. He threw out an arm to block his brother’s path, forcing him to halt abruptly.

“Come on, spill,” George pressed, turning to face him. His expression was full of mock seriousness, though curiosity twinkled in his eyes. “Are you scared of showing [y/n] Malfoy what an absolute dunce you are?”

Fred frowned, pushing his brother’s arm down and continuing forward. “No,” he said firmly, as if the suggestion itself were offensive.

George trailed after him, undeterred. “You’ve been weird about this all day,” he said lightly, but there was a genuine note of curiosity in his voice now.

Fred stopped, let out a heavy sigh, and turned to his twin. “Fine,” he muttered. “I saw her crying.”

George tilted his head, one brow raised. “Malfoy?”

Fred nodded. “Yeah. A few nights ago.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.” The word came out quickly, but there was a tinge of regret buried in Fred’s tone that George didn’t miss. “She didn’t see me.”

George hummed thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. “And you’ve been stewing about it since?”

“I wasn’t stewing—” Fred started, but George raised a hand to silence him, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a knowing smirk.

“Did you see what made her cry?”

“No,” Fred admitted, his tone a little quieter now. “I don’t know why. I just… it didn’t feel right to intrude.”

George studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Fair,” he said, surprising Fred by not pressing further. But before Fred could take a breath of relief, George added, “So now we’re making up for it by dragging ourselves to the library so we can study with her. It shall be a nice, friendly gesture. Very Gryffindor of us.”

Fred rolled his eyes, though the tips of his ears turned a little red. “Oh, stop it.”

“Sure,” George teased, giving Fred’s shoulder a playful shove as they reached the library doors. “Let’s hope she’s not armed with hexes if you mess this up.”

Fred muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and together, the twins stepped into the library, their usual mischief tempered—at least for now—by the weight of an unexpectedly complicated afternoon ahead.

The library was unusually busy for a Sunday afternoon, the soft hum of murmured conversations blending with the rustle of turning pages. [y/n] Malfoy moved purposefully between the towering shelves, her fingers skimming the spines of the books as she searched for something specific. The dim light filtering through the high windows cast a golden glow over the dust motes suspended in the air.

Despite the crowd, [y/n] wasn’t distracted. Her focus remained on the task at hand, though the slight crease in her brow betrayed her growing frustration. She muttered under her breath, stepping sideways to peer at the titles on a higher shelf.

“Fancy seeing you here, Malfoy,” came a familiar voice behind her, rich with amusement.

[y/n] didn’t even flinch. She reached up to adjust a book on the shelf before glancing over her shoulder. “How fast do you think word spread that the infamous Weasley twins, who never so much as glance at a book, were spotted heading for the library?”

Fred Weasley’s grin widened as he leaned casually against the end of the shelf. “Oh, undoubtedly fast. We’re a sensation, you know. Practically Hogwarts royalty.”

“And we’ve got a reputation to maintain,” George added, appearing beside his brother. “So if you’d be so kind as to free us from this dreary establishment swiftly, we’d be much obliged.”

[y/n] let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she turned back to her search. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Fred placed a hand over his heart in mock offence. “Insufferable, maybe. Charming, definitely.”

After another moment of searching, [y/n] finally pulled a large, dusty book from the shelf with a satisfied nod. “Found it. Come on, let’s find a table.”

She led them toward a more secluded corner of the library, weaving through the crowd with practised ease. The twins followed, Fred’s footsteps slightly heavier than George’s as he muttered something about the endless maze of books. When they reached a quiet spot tucked behind a row of ancient tomes, [y/n] set the book down on the table with a decisive thud.

“Smart choice, hiding us away like this,” George remarked, sliding into a chair. “Wouldn’t want your Slytherin friends catching you with the likes of us.”

[y/n] smirked, taking a seat opposite him. “It’s not just my friends. If anyone saw me hanging out with you two, my reputation as a Slytherin would be ruined.”

Fred’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he leaned forward. “Not just your reputation as a Slytherin. Your reputation as a Malfoy would be completely shattered.”

The lightness in [y/n]’s expression flickered, and her smile faded. She looked down at the book, her fingers brushing over its worn cover. “Let’s focus on the assignment,” she said quietly, flipping the book open.

Fred’s grin faltered. He glanced at George, who subtly shook his head, signalling to let it go. Fred leaned back in his chair, the teasing edge gone from his demeanour.

George broke the silence, tilting his head to read the title of the book. “Not exactly the first thing I’d grab for this topic. Why this one?”

[y/n]’s voice steadied as she replied, “Most people wouldn’t think of it. It’s a collection of myths and fairytales, but two of the stories are about wizards who didn’t use wands. I’ve read it before, ‘Lights and Feathers: the heroes of Ancient Europe’.”

“Ancient Europe? Sounds like something Charlie would’ve loved growing up,” Fred’s interest piqued, as he grabbed the book from [y/n]’s hands and turned it around to look at the cover.

She glanced up, curious. Fred had a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. He used to be obsessed with stuff like this,” he continued, his eyes far away, glancing at a memory. “Myths, legends, stories about magical creatures, specially in Europe. He practically lived in them when we were kids.”

“Charlie was your favourite, wasn’t he?” George grinned.

Fred didn’t hesitate. “As a kid, yeah. He was the coolest. But now?” He smirked. “My favourite brother is the one who never got born.”

George burst out laughing, earning a sharp glare from Madam Pince across the room. He quickly covered his mouth, muffling his laughter as Fred grinned triumphantly.

“You’re awful,” George said, still chuckling.

“I try,” Fred replied, his tone light. He glanced at [y/n], who was now smiling faintly, the tension from earlier easing. “So, let’s hear about these wandless wizards of yours.”

[y/n] nodded, flipping to the first marked page. As she began to explain the stories, her voice grew more confident, and the three of them leaned in, ready to delve into the peculiar world of wizarding legends.

For the next three hours, the trio was immersed in the stories from Lights and Feathers: The Heroes of Ancient Europe. The myths were as enchanting as they were peculiar, detailing feats of magic performed without wands: a wizard who commanded storms with only his voice, a healer who mended broken bones with the touch of her hands, and a peculiar alchemist who brewed potions without any visible magical aid. The twins occasionally interrupted with humorous commentary, pointing out how such abilities could make for legendary pranks, while [y/n] meticulously jotted down notes. They combed through the text, debating which details might appeal to Umbridge’s overly critical eye and which were too fantastical to be believed. By the end, the table was cluttered with pages of her elegant handwriting, yet the twins hadn’t so much as picked up a quill.

Satisfied with her work, [y/n] leaned back, stretching her fingers as she smiled at her notes. “Thanks for your help,” she said, her tone warm despite the long hours. “Even if I can only use a fraction of what we went over, this will at least make for a decent start.”

Fred, who had been idly flipping through another section of the book, glanced up and smirked. “Glad we could lend our expertise. Not every day a Malfoy thanks us, though.”

“Or anyone,” George added with a wink.

[y/n] rolled her eyes but chuckled. “Well, I do appreciate it. The stories you remembered from your brothers really added depth, even if I couldn’t use half of it.”

Fred’s gaze lingered on her as she spoke. Without her Slytherin tie or the dramatic robe trimmed with satin and fur she wore that dreadful night, she looked almost… normal. The brownish dress she wore was simple, the short sleeves revealing arms that moved with a quiet grace as she gathered her notes. But Fred noticed more than her clothes; her eyes, usually guarded and sharp, were slightly sunken, and though she smiled while discussing her plans for the essay, there was a lingering shadow of sadness in her expression—a face that had cried far too much recently.

She caught his stare and tilted her head. “What?”

Fred quickly masked his thoughts with a grin. “Just thinking how you might make the front page of The Daily Prophet if anyone saw you laughing with us.” [y/n] laughed softly, though there was a slight edge to it. Fred leaned forward, “Can’t imagine what would happen if your dear brother found out.”

For a brief moment, her smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. “Draco wouldn’t care,” she said, brushing it off. “He’s too busy trying to outshine a certain Boy Who Lived.”

George, sensing the slight tension, leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Well, since we’ve gathered enough arguments for pinky-trouble, shall we call it a successful study session?”

[y/n] nodded, neatly stacking her notes. “I’d say so. I think we’ve done enough damage to Umbridge’s peace of mind for one day.”

“Music to our ears,” Fred quipped, standing and stretching as well. “Anything else, or are we officially free of scholarly obligations?”

“No, we’re done,” she said, getting up. They followed. “Thanks again. I’ll take it from here.”

As they left the library together, Fred couldn’t help but glance at her one more time. She walked with purpose, her stack of notes held firmly in her hands, and though she’d brushed off his earlier remark, he wondered how deep the cracks in her confidence ran—and if they were anything like the cracks in the pristine Malfoy facade she so carefully maintained.

[emf005]

Stereotypes

Hey guys I know it's been a while since I last posted! I hop

Y/N x Fred Weasley 

Warnings: Swearing, lots of fighting, sweet ending

“So that's all you see me as?” You asked. Your heart completely shattering and then putting itself back together with hate, sadness and resentment as the glue. “Is that really all you have ever seen me as?” You shouted this time. For the first time in your life, tears forming in your eyes during an argument. “Ever?! That's all! You’ve only seen me as a Slytherin?” You shouted. The name of your house coming out of you like venom. You watched as Fred flinched back a bit. 

“Yes!” He shouted. Running a hand through his hair. He didn’t mean it, though. It wasn’t true. He was just frustrated and scared. Though, of course, you didn’t know that. ���Yes! This entire time, I have only seen you as a Slytherin. A vile, nasty little serpent that just slithers around the school! You’re a Malfoy. The worst of them at that! You are the worst Malfoy, the worst Slytherin. You-” You turned abruptly and stalked out of the Gryffindor common room. Why had you thought your name wouldn’t bite you one of these days with Fred? Why had you let yourself trust him? Even… maybe…. Fall in love with him. 

NO! You yelled at yourself. No. I am not in love with him. Stereotypes are nasty little termites that-that eat at everything! Well, he wants a Slytherin? I’ll give him Slytherin.

“Draco!” You shouted barging into his dorm room. He jumped and fell off of his bed, which he was reclining on. 

“Merlin, Y/N! You gave me a heart attack. Why are you in the boys dormitory?”

You knelt down and started rifling through his trunk without another word. 

“Y/N? Y/N, get out of my trunk what are you- HEY! STOP TEARING MY TRUNK APART!” You had just torn the top off his trunk on the inside, revealing a secret compartment. You opened it and pulled out a cloth bag. “What is that?”

“A prank I had planned, but I need to use it.” You grumbled and left the room in four steps leaving him gaping at you. What had that been about?

Draco entered the Great Hall for dinner that evening and looked over at the Slytherin table, but you weren’t there. He headed to the Gryffindor table and sat down by Harry. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” 

“Not since the last class. She seemed kind of aggravated, though.”

“Yes, she was acting kind of strange. She never said anything.” Ron said. 

“It was weird. We actually got stuff accomplished instead of a banter between her and Snape.” Herminone said, still surprised. 

“She came barging into the boys dorm and literally tore my trunk apart. She barely said anything. Only something about a prank but needing it instead.”

“Y/N never gives up a good prank!” Ron said, completely shocked. Geroge and Fred came walking in then. 

“Fred, George!” Harry said. The twins turned. 

“Yes, Harry?” They asked in unison, causing Hermionie to shiver. She hated when they did that. 

“Have you seen Y/N?”

“No.” Fred said immediately. “Why would I have?” “I mean, she is your girlfriend and-”

“Well, I haven’t seen her, alright!” He snapped and stormed off. The five of them watched him storm off, completely confused as to what had just happened. Draco looked at George who just raised his hands. 

“Just because I’m his twin doesn’t mean I know what goes on in his head. But I should probably find out.” The four nodded slowly and he scurried off towards where his brother had taken a heavy seat. 

“Well that was odd.” Ron muttered with a mouthful of food. Hermionie sent him a look and a roll of her eyes.

“You don’t think they got into a fight, do you?” She asked. Draco shook his head. 

“Believe me, she would be fine if they did, unless…”

“Unless?” He looked around the table and shook his head standing. 

“Just hope that that unless stays an unless.”

“Why don’t you eat with us today.” Harry offered. 

“Yeah,” Ron said after a swallow. “You got no friends over there. You're kinda friends with us. Sorta friends is better than no friends.” Harry and Hermionie chuckled and Draco hesitated. 

“If I could that would be-” Before he could even finish Harry and Hermionie scooched over so he could sit. It turned out to be a good dinner for the four of them while you were having a breakdown in your dorm room. And your breakdowns were quite nasty and, believe me, you didn’t want to be on the same continent if you weren’t the one you were mad at. But Fred just happened to be in the same school. And well… you weren’t going to let this go.

You applied the dark eyeliner, just barely missing sticking it in your eye. You tied your hair up in a high regal ponytail before putting on your blingy skull jewelry and heavy very slytherin attire. Luckily it was a Saturday so you could go all out. If Fred wanted a Slytherin, he was going to get Slytherin. All of it.Every stereotype out there. Dark heavy eyeliner, stylish and very bitch-esc. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Very fashionable and dangerous and the scowl that placed itself on your face all on its own just made the look. You had planned on starting a harmless rumor around the school about the secret compartment in Draco’s trunk about how he liked to wear blingy skull jewelry and dark eyeliner to make himself look cooler but this… this was much more important.

Students, even older ones, scurried out of your way as you made your way through the halls. You got a few whistles and threw them a smirk and a wink only to let the scowl return as you continued to walk down the halls with sass in your step and a hair flick occasionally.

You entered the Great hall and everything went silent as you walked past the tables and took a seat at the Slytherin one. Students scrambled over one another to get away from you as you started to eat. Draco walked in and the only thing that had started up were whispers and murmurs. Draco looked around, confused, and made his way to you. 

“Man, what happened here? Everyone seems scared out of there-Ah!” He jumped back and you raised an eyebrow. “Merlin! What-I-who are you and where is Y/N?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” His eyes shot up and he started to back up, clearing his throat. 

“Nothing. Nothing. I-I’ll see you. Ok?”

“Whatever, Draco.” He scurried out of the room, meeting the trio outside of the doors. He stormed towards Ron. 

“Where is your brother?” Ron started to scramble backwards. Not exactly at ease at the danger in Draco’s demeanor. His steps were dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as yours.

“Wha-what? I-which?”

“Fred.”

“Probably with Geroge!” He grabbed his shirt collar. 

“And where is that?”

“Draco!” Herminonie yelled as she and Harry tried to separate the two. “What has gotten into you! Put him down!”

“Where?”

“Courtyard!”

Draco dropped him and stormed out of the hall and towards the courtyard. The trio watched him go before turning into the hall, talking about what had just happened. 

“What was that about?”

“No idea I-what Harry? Stop yanking on my sweater.”

“Ok, yeah, but-” He pointed to you across the hall. The trio stopped and stared at you before, in sync, turning and bolting to the courtyard before Draco found a way to kill Fred. By now, it was evident that you and Fred had gotten into a fight. No one knew how bad it was until now. As they rounded the corner to the courtyard, the sound of Draco shouting was the only thing ringing through the halls. 

“What did you say!” Draco shouted. 

“WHat are you talking about?” Fred shouted back. George was watching with raised eyebrows and crossed arms behind his twin, but wasn’t interjecting, surprisingly. 

“To my sister! What did you say to her?” Draco growled, losing his patience quickly. He could normally keep them until he got what he wanted, but when it came to you, he lost them quite quickly. 

“I say a lot of things to her. Which are you referring to?” He asked with a scowl. Draco opened his mouth to say something when Ron interrupted. 

“Cut the crap, Fred. What did you fight with Y/N about?”

“Why? It was just a fight.” Harry and Hermionie exchanged a glance. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t, trust me.”

“Why? What happened?” George asked, worried about you. His brother may have seen you as more, but he saw you as a little sister and he had grown quite fond of you. Just like everyone who had met you did. 

“Maybe you should see.” Harry suggested. The twins exchanged glances but nodded and followed the four out and to the Great Hall. 

“Take a look, why don’t you?” Fred and George peeked into the hall and looked around. George is the first one who spotted you and poked his brother before pointing at you. The twins gaped at you. The trio and Draco pulled them back out and waited for an explanation from Fred, but he was still in shock. 

“Fred!” Hermionie yelled, getting his attention. Everyone was watching him and he looked away in shame. Had he felt bad about what he said? Yes. Did he want to take it back the second the words had left his lips? Absolutely. But his damn pride kept getting in the way. To be honest, he didn’t even remember what the fight was about. 

“I-I-um…”

“Freddie,” George said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What went down between you two?”

“We just got into an argument.”

“That is not just an argument,” Draco growled. Crossing his arms and glaring at the twin. He was very protective of his sister and whoever hurt her, or changed her into whatever was sitting in the great hall, would have to answer to him. 

“I-I was a jerk.” 

“Obviously. Either tell us, or go explain that to her. Better yet,  both.” 

Fred wasn’t ready to explain what he said. How the words so easily slipped out. 

“Can you just get her to meet with me. It probably won’t go well if I ask.”

“Sorry to tell ya this, mate. But it's already not going well.” The four walked into the great hall, leaving Fred in the entryway. He had, strangely enough, lost his appetite. 

Somehow, they had convinced you to meet with him. So, here he was, in the owlery, waiting for you. He paced back and forth for what felt like forever. The owls hooted and flew around. Fred had convinced himself that you weren’t coming. That they had told you and that you weren’t going to show. That's when he heard footsteps coming up to the owlery. 

  He stared at the entrance and saw you walking up the stairs. Your eyes narrowed when they landed on him, but you didn’t walk away. 

“So this was a set up?” He swallowed at your tone. You. Were. Pissed. 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d let me get a word in to ask if you’d talk.”

“You were right. I won't. Bye, Fred.” You turned and started to walk away. Fred ran and grabbed your wrist. 

“Wait a second. Please!” You turned around and sneered at him, making him recoil a bit. 

“Why should I? I’m nothing but a Slytherin bitch, aren’t I? The worst Malfoy there is?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You did though!” You pulled your wrist away from him. “Well, congratulations, Weasley. You found my true colors, silver and green. And my oh my do they feel fine. I hope you're happy.” You turned and stormed away. He swallowed. 

I hope you’re happy. The way you said the line broke him. He knew you. He did. He said the things he did because he knew it would get under your skin. And the way you said that line… you weren’t angry. You were sad. You were disappointed. You were hurt. How could he get through to you?

How could he do something like that to you?

You sat in the library, a book covering your face as you silently sobbed. You were in the back corner where nobody ever came. Not even the couples who would use the library for their make out sessions. 

“Y/N?” You heard Hermionie’s quiet voice as she rounded the corner. 

Shit. 

You quickly wiped the tears from your face, but kept the book up. 

“Hey, ‘Mione.” You said, surprised at how steady your voice actually was.

Hermionie sat down in front of you and lowered your book so she could see your tear and makeup stained face. 

“Oh, Y/N.” She scooted over so she was beside you and hugged you tightly. You lost it completely and started to sob. Everything that had been building up over the past two weeks was suddenly let out. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed into your friend's comforting embrace, and she let you. After what felt like forever you were finally done and sniffled. 

“I’m so sorry, ‘Mione. I’m so stupid. I don’t know why I thought-”

“Sh. Do not be sorry. Fred told us what happened, though he doesn’t remember how the fight got started. Mind filling that in for me?” You shook your head “no”. He may not have, but you sure did. It was your fault, which made you feel even worse. But your damn pride… 

You had walked down to the pitch to watch Fred practice with the Gryffindor team. Afterwards you two were planning to go on a date. A picnic lunch by the lake. The basket was set and you had brought it down with you

When practice had ended, you had waited a few moments for him to take a shower and change before heading that way. When you got there, you were not prepared to see him speaking with Angelina Johnson, the beautiful Gryffindor chaser who was literally everything you weren’t. The worst part was that her hands were all over him. 

You clenched your jaw and stormed over to the two of them. 

“Hi!” You greeted, siding up to Fred. Angelina looked at you, but didn’t remove herself from the close proximity she was in.

“Hi, babe.” Fred slid his arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Angelina said. “As I was saying, Fred-”

“Actually we have to get going.” You interrupted causing her to glare daggers at you. 

“Pardon?”

“Freddie and I had a date planned. Ready?” You looked up at him. He looked at you strangely for a moment before smiling. 

“Always. I’ll catch you later, Angelina.” With that you two left for your picnic by the lake, but your mood had been entirely ruined. 

When the date ended and you had gotten back to the castle, Fred finally confronted your odd behavior. 

“Babe, are you alright? You've been acting strange all afternoon.”

“I’m fine Fred, just tired.” You turned to go to your dorm room in the dungeon, but Fred grabbed your hand and pulled you back. 

“Hey wait, talk to me.” 

And somehow, from there, you ended up in the Gryffindor common room screaming at each other over how you were being overly jealous. 

Hermionie pried the story out of you after about ten minutes and, somehow, you got the whole story out before breaking down and crying again. 

She calmed you down and then walked you back to your dorm room, making sure you were in Draco’s care before leaving and heading back to her own dorm room, ready to report her findings to the boys.

To say Fred Weasley was an absolute trainwreck was a big fat lie. He was a trainwreck before he knew what the fight was about. He was completely hysterical when Hermionie told him and then he was straight up insane trying to figure out how to fix it. He couldn’t even get you to look at him. How was he going to get you to talk to him?

A week later he had finally gathered the courage to talk to you.  At dinner, he headed over to the Slytherin table. When he was just about to make his way down the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, Angelina Johnson came up behind him. 

“Freddie!” She yelled and ran towards him. He noticed you look up from your food and meet his eyes, but you quickly turned your face away. Over the past weeks the “Slytherin” stereotype had gone away and was replaced with just pure depression. 

“Angelina, this really isn’t-”

“But I need to talk to you,” she grabbed his arm and he stared at it. “Come on, Freddie, just one second?”

“Angelina, I said no. I need to-”

“It will only just take a second, really.” She started to pull him towards the doors. The trio and his twin watched with open mouths from the Gryffindor table and Draco, sitting beside Herminone, sat clenching his fork so tightly that his hand began to bleed. 

“Angelina I said NO!” He tossed her hand off his arm. “Knock it off would you? What has been your ordeal lately?”

“Listen, Freddie. I’ve been thinking, and I guess I’ll do this here instead of in private, but since you and Y/N aren’t a thing anymore… would you-”

“What on earth would make you think we aren’t?” She stared at him. 

“You two haven’t talked in weeks. She turned completely mental and... “ she glanced at the table next to them with disgust, “You know. I just figured… anyhow, would you go out with me?”

“No. Merlin, no. Y/N and I are still together. She is still and forever will be the love of my life. So please stop drooling all over me whether my girlfriend is with me or not. Thank you, much appreciated.” She stared at him with her mouth open before storming off angrily. Fred turned around, ignoring all the applause going on around him for standing up for him and his girlfriend, and looked where you were sitting. Had been sitting. 

You were gone. He searched the room for you but you were nowhere in sight. He looked at the Gryffindor table and they pointed to the doors. Fred swears he never ran so fast in his life. He had no idea where his legs were taking him, but he was bolting out of the room and the next thing he knew he was in the Astronomy tower, staring at your curled up body at the balcony. 

He walked over to you and sat down in front of you. 

“Y/N?”

“Shouldn’t you be snogging Angelina Johnson?” you gruffed at him. 

“Y/N, please look at me.” You buried your head deeper in your arms. 

“No.”

“Please?”

“Just leave me alone, Fred. Haven’t you hurt me enough?” He swallowed. 

“I didn’t mean to. Please just… just look at me.” You peaked through your arms, but he would still see your red face and puffy eyes. He swallowed. “I’m not interested in Angelina.”

“But-”

“Did you hear none of what I said in the great hall?” You shook your head. He sighed. “I told her to fuck off.” You smiled and giggled for a second. For some reason when he swore it always made you laugh. He smiled at your giggle. “There she is.” You looked up at him. “I missed your smile. I missed your laugh. For merlin’s sake, Y/N, I missed you. Please talk to me. Please. I don’t know how much longer I can go without you.” Your smile fell and you licked your lips.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I guess I should start, then. I’m sorry. I didn;t mean any of what I said. I didn’t see that Angelina was hitting on me. I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

“I’m sorry I got so jealous.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Promise me something?”

“Mm?”

“Promise you’ll tell me what's bothering you, no matter how crazy or ridiculous or valid it may be.” You smiled and wiped your eyes. 

“I promise.”     

[sunnywithlotsoflove]

Shadows and Secrets

Part 1

Malfoy!Reader x Blaise Zabini

Warnings: secret relationship my ass writing and that it.

♡-----♡

Being Draco Malfoy’s little sister came with a rulebook. An unwritten one, of course, but every page was branded into your mind like a curse.

Rule #1: Don’t embarrass the family name.

Rule #2: Don’t associate with "lesser bloodlines."

Rule #3: Absolutely, under no circumstance, fall for one of Draco’s friends.

You broke all three.

Especially that last one—shattered it like a dropped crystal goblet. Because Blaise Zabini wasn’t just any friend of Draco’s. He was the friend. The one always lounging across the Slytherin common room sofas like he owned the place. The one with smirks sharper than his wandwork and a voice so smooth it could pass as liquid honey. And unfortunately for you, the one you kissed behind the Astronomy Tower six months ago—and never really stopped.

It had started as curiosity. A look that lasted a little too long. A smile exchanged when no one was watching. Then a dare. A kiss. A secret.

Now?

Now it was a full-blown, carefully-hidden, infuriatingly-addictive relationship.

"You know your brother would hex me into next week if he knew about this," Blaise murmured one night, his lips brushing against your neck as you both hid behind one of the heavy green curtains of the Slytherin common room.

"Then it's a good thing he doesn't know," you whispered back, tugging him closer by his tie. Your heart beat wildly as you heard footsteps nearby. Blaise didn’t flinch.

“I live for the danger,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

“You just live for the drama,” you countered, stifling a laugh.

He silenced your retort with another kiss, deep and lingering, until you pushed him away playfully. “We’ll get caught if we stay here too long.”

“And wouldn’t that be fun?” he smirked, but you were already slipping out from behind the curtain, straightening your uniform, trying to look like you hadn’t just been snogged within an inch of your life.

♡-----♡

The next morning at breakfast, you sat beside Draco like always, pretending not to notice the way Blaise kept glancing at you over his goblet of pumpkin juice.

“So, Y/N,” Draco said, spooning eggs onto his plate, “I’ve noticed you’ve been disappearing a lot lately.”

Your spine stiffened.

“Studying,” you replied smoothly. “Unlike you, I care about my grades.”

Blaise choked on his juice. You didn’t even look at him.

Draco raised a brow. “Studying with who?”

“Just… myself.”

“Oh, come off it. No one studies alone for that long,” he muttered. “If you’re sneaking off with someone, I want to know who it is. I won’t have my little sister—”

“Draco.” You cut him off before he got dramatic. “I’m not seeing anyone. Calm down.”

Blaise covered his smirk with his hand and very deliberately avoided looking at either of you.

♡-----♡

Later that night, Blaise cornered you in the library. You were hidden in the back, between shelves of dusty Arithmancy texts, pretending to read when you felt his hand slide over yours beneath the table.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said lowly.

“Am not.”

“Are too. But it’s cute.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “My brother’s going to kill you.”

“I’d die for a good cause.”

“You’d die for kissing me?”

“I’d die for a lot more than that,” he said, suddenly serious, his voice dropping to that deeper tone that made your stomach flip. “You know that, right?”

You blinked, thrown. Then quietly, you nodded.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made the rest of the world fall away. “Meet me tonight. Astronomy Tower.”

“You’ll get us caught,” you whispered.

“Worth it,” he replied.

♡-----♡

The sky was crystal clear that night, stars glowing cold and bright above the castle. The Astronomy Tower was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of your robes as you leaned into Blaise’s arms, both of you hidden behind one of the stone arches.

His lips brushed your forehead.

“Tell me something true,” you said.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“It’s also true,” he murmured. “Tell me something.”

“I hate sneaking around,” you admitted.

He nodded against your hair. “Then let me tell him.”

You pulled back, wide-eyed. “Draco? Now?”

“Eventually.”

“That’s a death sentence.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

You stared at him, heart pounding, unsure whether to kiss him or slap him. In the end, you did the former, hands knotting into his collar as you pulled him closer. The stars didn’t matter. The rules didn’t matter. Just the warmth of his touch, the promise in his voice.

But neither of you noticed the quiet footsteps on the stairs behind you...

♡-----♡

Note: Hi, you guys. I'm sorry, I haven't really been posting, but I'm going to try to post at least once a week and I hope you all have a wonderful Easter break

[princesskenny1998]

Harry Potter | Harry Potter x Malfoy!f!Reader ~ Retaliation

The day was warm, the kind of sunny afternoon that made everyone lounge around the Hogwarts grounds instead of actually working on assignments. You, however, were stewing in anger. Draco had been insufferable lately—always needling you, always bossing you around as though he weren’t your twin but some sort of self-appointed superior. It was petty sibling nonsense, sure, but he had crossed the line for the last time this morning when he told you that you’d probably never find anyone who could “handle your attitude” or "would put up with you."

It wasn’t like Draco had a stellar track record with relationships himself, but his comment stung more than it should have. But you weren’t one to sulk for long—you were a Malfoy. When wronged, you retaliated. And what better way to get under Draco’s skin than to bag Harry Potter, the boy your brother hated more than anyone?

The idea was absurd and petty, but the longer you thought about it, the more perfect it seemed.

You spotted Harry lounging in the courtyard, seated on a stone bench next to Ron Weasley. The two of them were in deep conversation, but Harry’s face was tinged with that familiar awkwardness you’d seen him wear so often. Despite being the Chosen One, he was ridiculously shy, especially around girls. You couldn’t blame him; between the fangirls and the fame, probably no one had ever given him much room to just be himself.

Perfect.

Straightening your robes, you approached with purpose, your expression composed and confident as always. Weasley noticed you first, his brows shooting up in surprise. Harry glanced at his friend, then turned his gaze to you, his confusion only growing as you stopped in front of them.

“Potter,” you said coolly, arms crossed.

“Malfoy?” he asked cautiously, clearly unsure of your intentions.

“I have a proposition for you,” you said, cutting straight to the point.

Both Harry and Weasley froze.

“A… proposition?” Harry repeated, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You tilted your head, giving him a look that was equal parts amused and patronizing. “Yes, Potter, a proposition. I’m offering to hook up with you.”

Weasley made a noise somewhere between a cough and a gasp, and Harry turned bright red, his jaw dropping open.

“I—what?” he stammered, his eyes darting around as though trying to figure out if this was some sort of elaborate prank.

“I’m offering,” you repeated slowly, “to hook up with you. You do know what that means, don’t you?”

Harry blinked at you, his mouth working soundlessly. Weasley, meanwhile, looked as though he might choke on air.

“Is this a joke?” Harry finally asked, his voice hesitant. “Like, some kind of trap?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, it’s not a trap. It’s just a way to get back at my idiot brother. Dray’s been driving me up the wall, and I thought this would be a nice way to piss him off.”

Harry and Weasley exchanged a silent conversation, the kind only best friends could have with just a few glances.

Weasley was the first to speak. “What’s in it for Harry, then?”

You gave Weasley a pointed look, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Weaselbee, I’m literally offering to hook up with him. Do I really need to explain what’s in it for him?”

Weasley turned an even deeper shade of red, his ears practically glowing. Harry looked like he was trying to figure out whether he’d fallen into a dream—or a nightmare.

“You’re serious,” Harry said finally, his voice laced with disbelief.

“As serious as your lack of dating experience,” you shot back, your lips curling into a smirk. “What’s the matter, Potter? Scared?”

That seemed to spark something in him. Harry sat up a little straighter, his blush still present but less intense. He glanced at Weasley, who gave a helpless shrug, and then back at you.

“Well… I mean… why not?” Harry said, his voice a little steadier now. “Yeah, okay.”

You raised an eyebrow, impressed that he’d agreed so quickly. “Good choice.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel, gesturing for him to follow. Harry scrambled to his feet, leaving a very bewildered Weasel behind.

As you walked through the castle corridors, you could feel Harry’s nervous energy radiating off him. It was almost endearing. Almost.

“So,” he said awkwardly, trying to fill the silence, “is this, um, a one-time thing, or…”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your smirk returning. “We’ll see, Potter. That depends on how much Dray loses his mind.”

Harry chuckled nervously, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “Right. Malfoy. He’s, uh, not going to take this well, is he?”

“That’s the point,” you replied, stopping in front of an empty and abandoned classroom. You opened the door and stepped inside, motioning for him to follow.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then stepped in after you.

“Relax, Potter,” you said, your tone softer now as you closed the door behind him. “I don’t bite unless you want me to.”

“Uh, right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

As you moved closer to him, you noticed the way his eyes flickered to your lips and then quickly away, his blush returning with a vengeance. For someone who’d faced down the Dark Lord multiple times, Harry Potter was surprisingly easy to fluster.

“You know,” you said, tilting your head, “for someone who’s supposed to be the Chosen One, you’re awfully shy.”

Harry gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well… this isn’t exactly something I have a lot of experience with.”

You leaned back slightly, watching Harry as he stood there, shifting nervously but clearly eager. His green eyes were wide, darting between your face and the floor, his hands fidgeting at his sides. You smirked to yourself, feeling thoroughly satisfied with your decision. This was going to be fun.

“Relax, Potter,” you murmured, stepping closer. “This will be nice.”

Before he could stumble over another awkward response, you reached out, grabbing the front of his robes and pulling him down to meet your lips. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he froze, but then he began to kiss you back. It was clumsy at first—he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, and his rhythm was off—but there was an earnestness to him that made it strangely endearing.

You smiled against his lips, guiding him gently, showing him how to tilt his head, where to touch. He followed your lead quickly, growing bolder as he got the hang of it. Before long, his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him as his kisses grew deeper, more confident.

“See?” you whispered teasingly when you broke apart for air. “Not so bad, is it?”

Harry chuckled nervously, his cheeks flushed. “Guess not.”

You didn’t give him much time to recover, though, because you kissed him again, this time pushing him back toward one of the empty desks. He seemed to catch on quickly, lifting you up and setting you on the surface as his lips moved down to your neck.

You let out a quiet moan, tangling your fingers in his unruly hair. “Not bad at all, Potter,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

It didn’t take long for his initial awkwardness to fade entirely. Once he got over his shyness, Harry surprised you with just how confident he could be. He took charge, his hands exploring your body with a fervor that made your head spin. You weren’t used to someone like him—someone so genuine, so unpolished yet so passionate—actually, you weren't used to anyone really.

As he moved above you, inside you, your back arched off the desk, and his name fell from your lips again and again. “Harry,” you moaned, your voice trembling with pleasure. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

By the time you were both spent, your hair was mussed, your knees shaking, and a light sheen of sweat covered both of you. Harry was panting softly, his face flushed but grinning like he’d just won the Quidditch World Cup.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “Who would’ve thought?” you said, your voice light but genuine. “That was actually… fun.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, still catching his breath. “Uh, thanks?”

You laughed softly, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding off the desk. “Bye, Potter,” you said after you straightened your robes. “Let’s do that again, soon, yeah?”

Harry blinked at you, clearly stunned, but a grin slowly spread across his face. “Yeah,” he said, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. “I’d like that.”

You smirked, giving him one last look before sauntering out of the classroom, feeling more than a little pleased with yourself. If Draco thought he could push you around, he was in for a rude awakening. And as for Harry… well, you’d definitely underestimated him.

[herarcadewasteland]

Discoveries Pt. 3 ♥

A/N: Yes yes its been a little while but I've been busy okay? and i’ve been fired so emotional things. thank you all for the support so far and i hope this makes up for the wait. 

Pt. 1    Pt. 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stretching in your bed the next morning, you let out a large yawn as you adjusted to fall asleep again. Turning over in bed, you weren’t expecting the face of Fred to be right next you. You let out a startled scream as he laughed you, your eyes rolling as your shoulders shook with laughter. 

“What are you doing, Fred? It’s like 5am.”

“7am. You slept in missy~”

Groaning and flipping to face the other side of the room, your hair swung dramatically with you and into Georges face, who was crouched on the opposite side of your bed, expecting the trouble of waking you up. You screamed again and sat up with a huff, the twins high-fiving over your head. 

“Will you two just let me sleep for another hour at least?”

“No can do. You see-”, George started.

“We need to be at Diagon Alley by 8:30.”, Fred finished. 

You ran a hand through your knotted hair, partly in confusion and mostly in frustration. When it clicked in your head that you had to get some school robes adjusted, you panicked and half jumped, half fell out of bed. The twins backed your frantic movements with laughter as they walked down to the kitchen, the chatter of impatient and hungry Weasleys filled your ears. 

“Why do we have to wait for Y/N to eat?! It’s her fault for sleeping too long!”, Rons muffled voice fell into your conscious and made you speed up your hair and teeth brushing. 

Rushing down the stairs, you stumbled directly into Bill who caught you with a sigh.

“Clumsy as always, Y/N.”

You let out an almost ashamed laugh, your arms squeezing around Bill as he wheezed. Arthur walked in behind the both of you and ushered you into your seats as Molly set down the plate of bacon. 

“Finally!”, Ron muttered as he grabbed the plate of bacon seconds after it hit the table, his plate piling with food.

Food was passed around between the family, conversation filling the air as you ate silently. Your silent bubble was disrupted when Ron dragged you into an argument between himself and Percy. 

“It’s not my fault you have a bloody stick up your ass!” 

“I am a prefect, Ronald, which is something that will actually get me into the Ministry!”

Ron shot you a look of ‘oh dear god not this again’ and you laughed. 

“Percy, you do realize not being a prefect can get you into the Ministry. You just need good grades and the right classes.”

Percy snapped his glare to you, knowing you were right, and sighed. He had always had a sort of soft spot for you, knowing you weren’t actually a Weasley. Which was a dumb reason to not hate someone but you went along with it so not absolutely every child in the house had an argument with him every other day.

“I suppose you aren’t wrong, Y/N. I just have a better chance this way.”

He turned his nose up at you and you laughed, finishing off your plate just as the rest of the family had. The plates were cleared from the table as everyone dispersed to do their own thing. 

“Y/N dear, we must be going if we don’t want to be late. Come now, to the fireplace.”

You brushed yourself off and followed Molly to the fireplace, your hand wrapping around another handful of soft powder. Your eyes glanced up to your mum as she nodded reassuringly. You still weren’t used to it yet and you had a feeling it would take a little while to feel normal and not like you were being vacuum sealed into a plastic bin. With a sigh you threw down the powder and clearly stated “Diagon Alley”, and then you were gone in a swirl of green smoke.

Stumbling from the grate in The Three Broomsticks, you ran headfirst into a solid mass. Panicked, you looked around to make sure you were where you were supposed to be and slowly glanced at whoever you bumped into. Your wide eyes met narrowed ones surrounded by the same white blonde hair from the other day. You took a subconscious step back from the man just as Molly came through the floo, her hands finding your arms as she stumbled lightly into you.

“Mr. Malfoy. If you’d excuse us.”, Her eyes narrowed back at the man as he looked between the two of you, “Come on, dear, off we go now.”

She led you away with gentle hands, your head turning to look back at the man as you swerved through tables. Your eyes met one last time before Molly was tugging you past the door with a firm but gentle hold on your hand. As you met the bustling roads of Diagon Alley, you squinted your eyes at the sun, a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth as you stared at the ground, trying to avoid any ray of sun you could. Leaping between shadows to the fitting, you panted as Molly gently pulled you to a stop in front of Madam Malkins. You sighed and Molly chuckled lightly, her hand taking yours and guiding you in. 

“It’ll only take a minute. Don’t worry dear.”

~~~~~~~~~

“A minute my butt!”,  you exclaimed as you stumbled out of the fireplace in the Burrow, Fred sweeping you off your feet immediately and up to your room where a trunk lay on your bed.

“What is this? Why is my trunk out? What did you do?”

You rounded on Fred and George as soon as you were placed onto the floor, their faces innocent as could be as they watched you with crossed arms and very small smirks of entertainment. 

“You need to pack for Hogwarts!”

“We all have. Our trunks are-”

“-Waiting by the front door.”

“Only two are missing~”

You sighed and stared into the empty space, your eyes tracing loose threads along the seam as you nodded. 

“Okay, I’ll go bother Ronald after I’m done.”

“That's what we like to hear!”, the twins chorused as they walked from your room to raid the kitchen, if Mollys loud reprimanding was anything to go by.

The packing only took you a few minutes, most of your school things were in a separate drawer as it was so all you had to do was move them into the trunk. You finished your packing with relative ease and an overactive mind, the zipper closing breaking the silence you had been working in. WIth a sigh, you pulled your trunk to the top of the stairs before making your way to ROnalds room to aid him in his no-doubt messy packing. Your suspicions were confirmed when you pushed open the door to encounter the entirety of Rons wardrobe scattered around the room. 

“Ron, how? There is no way you had to destroy your room to pack.”

HIs frantic eyes met yours as he scoffed, “Well no, but it felt necessary at the time.”

You hummed and cleared a few spots across the room, handing things to Ron you knew he would want with him. His eyes followed you around when he wasn't haphazardly throwing things into his trunk.

“At least fold things!”, you stomped over to his trunk and folded piece by piece as Ronald sat and watched you with a blank expression until you reached his Chudley Cannon jersey. Then he reacted and grabbed it from your hands with a gasp, his own carefully folding it in a mess. You shrugged and packed it neatly with the rest of his things, the heavier items resting on top of his clothes as the lighter things went on those. 

“There. All done.”, you heaved a sigh as you closed the lid of the trunk, the click of the lock creating a satisfying noise in the otherwise silent room. 

“Thank you, Y/N~”, Ron grabbed you for an overly tight hug, your hands pushing at his arms as you wheezed for a single breath of air that wasn’t from Ron’s vicinity.

“Ok ok ok! I get it, just get it downstairs with the rest of them!”

Ronald let you go after a moment, his frame moving out the door with his trunk in hand as you followed after him.

“You made it sound like you brought yours down! But nooo look at what’s right here!”, Ron huffed and lightly kicked your trunk as he passed it.

“I said the rest of them! Never included mine!”, you shouted after him as you grabbed your own trunk and carried it down the stairs to see Bill and Charlie in front of the floo.

Molly gave the two a big hug with large containers of sweets being shoved into their hands after Arthur gave them a hug as well, Percy nodding a farewell from the couch as he read through the Ministry’s handbook for rules and regulations. 

“Nooooo~!”, you whined, “You can’t leave yet! You like... just got here! We didn’t get to talk about Hogwarts!”

The eldest Weasley boys chuckled and pulled you into their arms for a group hug, tears filling your eyes as they pet your hair lovingly. 

“You know we have jobs to get too, Y/N. We can’t stay to see you off.”

You huffed at them and lightly punched their chests as they smiled at you. A small nod moved your hair into your eyes as you grasped them tighter. While you weren’t as close to them as you were the twins, they had still helped raise you in a sense and that created a connection, plus you were their little sister. Blood or not, that created an even greater connection. Still not one large enough to rival that of yours with Fred and George but it was enough.

“Fine. Just send owls, okay? I wanna tell you everything!”

The boys nodded and placed kisses on the top of your white hair, their eyes slightly glossy as yours overflowed with tears.

“We will.”

“Absolutely we will.”, Charlie finished as he guided you to Molly’s embrace, Bill giving a last wave and goodbye to the family as he stepped through the floo with a call of his destination. 

Charlie gave a similar exit with a blown kiss towards yourself and your mom as he called out for the Ministry of Magic for Romania, however he pronounced it. Their departure set the family in motion as Arthur ushered everyone into the kitchen to go over the basic checklist of the things you would need for your time at Hogwarts. Most of the list was checked off smoothly, Ron mumbling under his breath that it was unnecessary until your dad reached an item he had forgotten and cursed. That got him a small ass-whooping from Molly as she urged him to go get what he had been missing. Fred and George mocked him as he ran up the stairs, your quiet giggles backing them until your parents shushed you all and continued with the list as Ronald slipped down the stairs to his trunk and frantically packed his wand. The list went smoothly after that, everyone having followed the list to pack, well... you had. The trunks were smooshed in the back of the Ford Anglia with a small extension charm, a suspicious popping noise coming from one of the twins trunks, a huff of air and confetti falling into the trunk as they stood rubbing the backs of their necks sheepishly. 

You were all set to head out for Hogwarts, all that was left was getting onto the platform and finding a seat. Easy enough, you told yourself as Fred and George popped confetti onto Arthur as he walked away, their lanky frames sprinting away from a charmed broom as it chased them across the lawn. Easy enough... right?

[colmiillo]

I'm not just a bitch, I'm a bitch with a backstory

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: Old Men

(Eventual) George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Summary: Aftermentioned gits put their plan into motion.

Word Count: 2453

Reader: Female

Warnings: Admitting your wrongs :(

Author’s Note: Inconsistently back as ever :)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

=====

The group lets out a booming roar as Cedric drops his name into the goblet. You half-heartedly join in, clapping along with his friends while the blue fire eats his name. The sound of singeing seals Cedric’s fate; if his name is popped out tomorrow night, he was in the game. 

The Tournament was filled with hard tasks, doubling the intensity most likely since the volunteers were at legal age. Times were pretty messed up right now and you wouldn’t put it past whoever was behind this to make the students work for the reward. The uncertainty is what would kill you… and possibly Cedric. 

Alfred already has the blonde in a chokehold when you turn back to them. You watch as the rest give him pats on the back or words of positivity, the worry slowly dissipating when you see the smile on his face. He lets out a laugh before pushing his friend off of him and lurching off him and onto you. 

You barely have time to hug back as he starts to squeeze you, letting out another laugh. 

“Oi, Cedi, I don’t think they’ll let you participate if you’re in Azkaban for suffocating me to death,” You joke but he only tightens his hold. The pressure and his excitement rubbing off of you makes you giggle. 

He pulls back slightly and stares at you for a moment then he places a wet, sloppy kiss on your forehead and disappears back into his crowd of friends. A large blush appears on your face from his affectionate action. It wasn’t like you weren’t touchy with your friends, far from it, but the new crowd of students intimidated you. You could feel the eyes burning into your skin and you just wanted to combust. 

A tuff of red hair comes into view and you reach out for safety. Ron’s head turns as he feels a gentle touch on his elbow, his confusion dissipating when he sees you falling into step with him and Harry. 

“Oh, hi (Y/N).” He greets you with a small smile which you half return, “Pretty wild that Cedric put his name in the cup, huh?” 

You nod absent-mindedly, looking around the students standing about the room to see if you spotted the two nimrods you were searching for. “Have you seen the twins?” 

He shakes his head and you turn to Harry who does the same. You let out a sigh, dropping your hand from your hold on him and looking down at your shoes. You wanted to find the twin before they finished their potion, hoping to help them out instead of having them kill themselves prior to them even putting their name into the Goblet. There was an apology in order from you once you realized how your words had a double meaning to them. You weren’t trying to undermine them, you were just scared to lose them. 

Harry seemed to notice your face fall and the gears turning in your head, “Why are you looking for them? Is everything okay?” 

You bite your lip, debating telling the two what happened. “I kind of… yelled at them this morning for wanting to put their name in.” You shyly admit making Ron let out a light laugh. Your eyes immediately snap to him and send him a scowl. He doesn’t seem to get the hint until Harry knocks his shoulder with his. 

“Yea, I would be mad too if I were as close as you were with them.” The black-haired boy consoles, “Who would want to put their life at risk for a silly title and some galleons?” 

Sometimes you wonder how someone could be so rude to that boy. You didn’t interact with Harry a lot but when you did it was always pleasant. 

You open your mouth to respond but it dies in your throat when the room fills with cheers and hooting. All eyes turn toward the door as the twins bounce through causing an uproar. People clap as they hold up the long glass vials, showing off their finished product. 

Their cockiness makes every bit of guilt and remorse you feel fly out the window. Sure, it was kind of impressive that the two could whip up such a complicated potion within less than 24 hours but still. They were prancing around like it wasn’t going to be the thing that killed them. 

Maybe you were being a bit extreme. But, still, it was a stupid idea. They had an age restriction for a reason. 

After a brief conversation with Hermione who pointed out that the age line would just knock them out (something your brain failed to point out before your emotions took over), they make a show of linking arms like a couple at a wedding and down the liquid. 

Your breath hitches when they drop from the bench and leap over the age line, the room going silent in anticipation. When nothing happens, the crowd resumes praising the two. You can’t help yourself from smiling, a weird sense of pride replacing the worry since they outwitted Dumbledore himself.  

The boys dance around the circle, yes-ing and throwing thumbs up to everyone. They then both raise an arm and drop their papers into the Goblet. The same bolt of panic that surged through you when Cedric put his name in shoots through your spine again. You didn’t have any time to dwell on the feeling before their whole plan turns sour. 

Blue flames twist out of the goblet, swirling in the air before shooting out and blasting the red-haired nitwits. The blow sends them flying back, students circle them once they land. You’re too far away to see what they’re doing, too busy processing what just happened before chants fill the air. 

“Oh Merlin,” You finally snap out of it, rushing around the circle and rushing towards them. You wiggle through the crowd, pushing people out of the way and halting when you come to the front. The twins were rolling around on the floor, greybeards and all, wrestling each other. 

You let out an indigent sound, angry at the two for getting themselves into this situation in the first place but also at everyone who is just sitting back and watching. 

Rushing forward, you try to pull the two old men apart. You tug at whoever was on top’s robes and a hand flies back to hit you. You gasp at them, grabbing the hood and using all your strength to at least give them a hint. The twin on top rolls off beside the other and they both look up at you. 

You stare down at them, they both have long grey hair and matching fluffy beards. There was a small skip of a beat in your heart as you looked at what the two would look like when they were old. Hopefully, this won’t be the only time you would see the two like this. 

Shaking your head to knock the paranoid thoughts out, you focus back on the situation at hand. “Are you two stupid? Even Hermione told you that it wouldn’t have worked.” They just share a pained glance with one another. You snap your fingers, grabbing their attention again but all you get is their puppy dog eyes. “Why don’t you two listen to me ever?” 

They send you a sheepish smile, barely visible under their large beards. You let out a dramatic groan, “Get up, nimrods.” You signal them with one hand and turn around, not bothering to see if they are following. The sea of students part for you, the scowl on your face enough to strike fear into them to clear a path without question. 

None of you say anything until the three of you were out in the corridor, the only words being spoken along the way were Ron wishing the twins good luck. Once the doors shut, the two start bickering once again. 

You’re tempted to stomp your foot like a child, but you are too busy focusing your energy into not tripping up the staircase. People stare as you march through the corridors, some Beauxbatons students whispering in French as you pass. 

The twins bump into you when you stop abruptly. Both of them are about to mouth off something yet decided against it when you raise a finger. “Could you two stop for one second?” One of them, Fred presumably, opens his mouth to spit something back but George stops him with a light smack to his chest. You give him a grateful smile before digging into your robes for something. 

Two potions daggle in front of the two boys making the older, well usually older, one roll his eyes. “You really made a bloody antidote. Do you have zero faith in us?” He scoffs but takes the potion and storms off. 

You call after him, giving up when he turns a corner and disappears. As much as you like Fred and appreciate the friendship he forced upon you, he was quite difficult to make amends with when a problem arises. A frustrated huff escapes your mouth and your shoulders slump. Would he have rather gone to the hospital wing and get in trouble?  

Deciding it was better to talk to him when he cools off, you turn back around to face the remaining twin, “I’m sorry, Georgie.” A guilty smile crosses your lips, “You have to be a wiz at charms and potions to pull the pranks. I didn’t mean to insult your guys’ intelligence, just your decision making skills.” He rolls his eyes, “I mean, I just don’t understand why you two would just jump on the opportunity to basically kill yourself for money.” 

“Well, we’d rather die than not get the money.” 

“George— “ 

A small smirk appears on his face when your voice raises a few octaves, anything to release some of the tension built up between the three of you. “Love, I’m kidding.” He runs a soothing hand over your scalp, running it down your arm and ending its journey when his hand slips into yours. You lean into his touch easily, glad they’re not the wrinkled ones from moments before. “You really don’t get it, do you?” 

His tilted head makes you frown, you truly had no idea why the two were so adamant about joining this tournament. The risk outweighed the reward by miles. You felt guilty about calling them stupid, not about being protective of them. You just shake your head in return and let him guide you to a nearby bench. 

The red head opens his mouth then closes it, not knowing how to express his feelings without you taking it the wrong way. “Fred was right when he said we don’t have money like you do-- not that he said it in the nicest way,” He quickly adds when he sees your head tilt down in shame, “Nor do we have the same notoriety that comes with your last name. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just--” He trails off and looks past you, trying to reorganize his thoughts. 

“I don’t know my privilege sometimes.” You finish for him, and he nods to confirm. “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t realize that.” The connections make sense, the glances shared between them when you went to the shop together, the nervous expression on George’s face every time you exchanged gifts during holidays, the staying at home during Hogsmeade weekends with “doing homework” excuses. 

“We needed the money to open the joke shop and the allure it would get being owned by a Triwizard Champion, not because we wanted it for anything else.” He explains fully, glad to the realization on your face. 

“What about the money from your bets at the cup?” 

“Bagman said we needed a lesson about underage gambling.” 

“That no good--” 

George lets out a chuckle at how easily you switch moods. “Love, it’s fine.” He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when he goes to run his other hand over your head again. The clarification of you worrying about him -them- waters his insides as his crush on you blossoms even more, “We’ll figure something out, Fred and I already have some plans.” 

You huff and lean into him, “I am truly sorry, George. I really didn’t mean to insult you guys. I worry about Cedric but if something happened to you.” You look down at your intertwined hands, enjoying the moment before your eyes widen, “--Or Fred!” You quickly add, realizing what you said. If he heard your slip, he didn’t mention it. But, if you took a daring glance, you would see his bright red face. “Is there anything I can help with? As an apology?” 

He fiddles with a loose string on the sleeve of your robe, debating between his options. “Do my potions essay?” That earns him a slap on the wrist making him giggle and squeeze you closer to him. 

“I’ll be your first employee.” You offer, running through different ideas through your head. “I bet I can stock shelves faster than you.” A proud claim yet there is a mischievous glint in your eyes as you look up at him. 

His mind goes blank at the thought of you suggesting a future event with him after graduation even if it was to make up for some silly understanding. Add that to the way you’re looking up at him, he couldn’t tell someone his name if they asked. He’s glad Fred stormed off because if his brother saw him this way, he could never live it down. 

You call out to him, pulling him back into reality. 

He feels his cheeks start to heat up, so he just pushes your head back into his shoulder, “We’ll see if you’ll have time once you’re traveling the world saving creatures.” You easily tuck into his side and fall into step with him as he starts moving the two of you down the corridor. 

You falter a little at the mention of your dream career, the possibility of it slowly dwindling as time goes on. “I’ll always have time for my favorite Weasley.” The response comes so immediate, like it’s something you’ve said to him a thousand times. It’s like you don’t know what you do to him when you say those words— well, you couldn’t have since he’s never told you. 

“I mean Ginny, of course. Not you.” 

One last blow to regain the normalcy between you too. George recovers rather quickly this time, pinching your sides to make you as frazzled as he was. You let out a squeal, surprised by the action and push your face into him more. 

[thimbleandakiss]

Chapter six of my Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader longfic, Serpents and Cinnamon, "Powder Trip," Is out now!

Based off my one-shot Christmas Colors

[s0urw00lfsrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.