#my favourite class i think is... the parchment witch

[ttrpgart]

a selection of TROIKA’s wonderful character class art.

source: TROIKA! numinous edition artist: dirk detweiler leichty

[fluorescentmortem]

Wizarding World // Potterlock AU

⤷ ( VERY Anti-JKR! )

Under the cut in case of length ♡

Molly Louise Hooper was born to a Muggle man and a witch. Not a family of standing, of course, like the Blacks, Malfoys, Holmes', etc.

She attended Hogwarts at age 11 after receiving her letter, and was sorted into Hufflepuff. Of course, she got teased for that relentlessly by the Slytherin house, but she ignored it to the best of her ability.

James "Jim" Moriarty being a prime one for it, but most said he just took interest in her. Flattering, but no thanks.

No, Molly Hooper liked a Ravenclaw. Smart, tall, curly hair, dashing... though he too tended to deduce her to the smallest, finest detail—but no, he was different from Moriarty. This was Sherlock Holmes.

Of course, there were other boys. Greg Lestrade, another Hufflepuff, and John Watson, a Gryffindor. Both whom she was friendly with, close friends if anything, people she can count on if she needed them.

Molly also bonded with another girl, Mary Morstan, a Slytherin girl. Not as bad as the rest of them, just cunning and had her way of getting what she wanted. She hung around Molly and the others, often joint at the hip with the female Hufflepuff and flirting with John Watson. Bless him, he didn't know what hit him the first time she made his advancements. Molly envied her for it.

Molly's favourite subjects are Herbology, Potions and Charms. She aspired to be a healer in her school years, which Herbology and Potions went hand in hand with, really, so she studied extremely hard for top grades in both—which she came a few places behind Sherlock, no surprise there. Charms were just fun to use, and a hint of Transfiguration too, another fun class full of spells to learn to make day to day life easier.

But she does achieve her goal, becoming a healer at St. Mungo's Hospital and learning all types of things. Inspecting how wizards, witches and creatures of magical properties died. Looking into wounds, taking samples, developing medicinal potions and herbs to see to patients depending on their needs. She got the thrill out of it, getting to try to understand how the body works, especially for magical folk. She knew the ins and outs of both wizarding and muggle doctoring treatments—just because Sherlock Holmes distracted her in more ways than one didn't mean that she didn't study both fields relentlessly. Sleepless nights and lots of coffee to keep her awake.

And even when she thought she'd never get to see the friends she'd made in school ever again, things always seem to crop up and surprise her. Sherlock Holmes waltzing into her area of the hospital, the morgue, asking to see a body, with John Watson on his flank. She gets waves from John, of course, the questions of ❛how are you?❜ or ❛what are you doing later? anything nice?❜, which ended with her saying things like ❛oh nothing, spending time with my Kneazle,❜ ( Toby ) or ❛meeting Mary for a coffee I think❜. Sometimes she'd mention a date, and of course she'd go, but nothing would ever come of it. No, not at all. Not when the consulting wizarding detective was a part of her life. In fact, it was him who told her to stop dating Moriarty, because oh yes, she did do that. A mistake on her part, really. He was just so charming, so she figured... why not? But no, Mister Holmes blew the wind out of her sails... as usual.

In her own time, Molly either reads a book ( ones that help her learn more or fictional romantic novels—Jane Austen or Shakespeare ) with Toby cuddled on her lap, using a free hand to either pet him or sip her coffee / tea / hot chocolate. OR she works at her little brewing stand, working on some potions for her next shift, which can sometimes end up in messes being made or little explosions blowing up in her face. Lovely. Other than that, it was reviewing parchments of the deceased, checking their records of usage of drugs, potions, anything that could've assisted in their death, looking for any details that she's missed off or significant things that she can relay back to Sherlock, given that he asks for those types of documents.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Just The Way You Are// D.M.

Request: Hi can you do a draco x reader where they are in a relationship and her parents are like as**oles and they always bother her about her weight so one day she is with draco and makes a comment like “maybe i should stop eating so much” or something like that and Draco is like WHAT and tells her that she is beautiful and all that and he is like really worried Thanks!!

A/N: MY 100TH FIC!!! MY 100TH FIC FOR HP!!! Of course it has to be Draco!! I didn't think I would ever reach 100 fics as well as get over 1000 followers yet here I am. I am so thankful to all of you who have read everything but have also motivated me into continuing to write even when I doubt my own abilities (which is a lot). Thank you so much for requesting, lovely! I hope I have done your request justice! I enjoyed writing this, I ended up writing it all in one sitting. Please read the warnings before you read! And as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: food, weight issues, shitty parents, swearing (I think) BUT DRACO IS CUTE DAMMIT.

Word count: 2k

Every morning in the Great Hall, breakfast is served at seven am sharp. This gives the students enough time to eat, socialise and let their food settle before classes begin promptly at half past eight. It also gives the students time to read over any mail that should fall with the Owls upon their arrival at eight am.

As your family owl drops a letter inscribed with the familiar handwriting of your mother, you don’t know whether to scream in frustration or burn the letter without reading. You knew that it would be filled with her usual criticism rounded off with a few sweet lines about the renovation to the house or how your cousin was doing so well on her internship abroad.

You flip the letter in your hands a few times; wondering whether the Howler from your mother would be worth it once she never got a reply from you. However, you eventually decide that the Howler would not be worth it and that your mother’s vitriol is better off read in silence.

Rolling your eyes, you try not to let the letter affect you so much. Her words are always poisonous and toxic, but this time, she cuts you where it hurts.

“My dear, how on earth is the Malfoy boy supposed to stay with you if you continue to gain weight? I’ve enclosed a new diet regiment for you to follow – stick to it, this is not an option.”

You scrunch up the letter and the included diet regiment in your hands. Crunching them up until they resemble litter rather than the foul words scrawled onto parchment.

You had never felt you had issues with your weight; there wasn’t any need to necessarily – the meals at Hogwarts were scheduled and there was enough exercise done through the day in order to get to classes on time, and this was before the weekend walks to Hogsmeade or the ambles around the Black Lake with Draco.

You don’t feel like there should be an issue with your weight, but your mother’s words are venomous barbs that stick into your brain. Her words on replay in the forefront of your mind.

There was no real excuse for the way your mother harked on about appearances and reputations. Your family hailed from an ancient line of witches and wizards; even going so far as to state that your ancestors were among the very first to attend Hogwarts when the founders were teachers.

So for your mother, everything since then had to be perfect.

Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect manners.

Perfect weight, apparently.

Any appetite you had before has now dissipated. It’s funny how three lines of a letter is enough to put one off their morning meal.

You felt like a rule change should be implemented at Hogwarts; no mail until the evening - that way students don’t have the time to sit and worry about the thoughts of their parents.

Pushing your plate away from you, you bring out your reading book from your bag. Flipping through the familiar pages, you find the dog-eared corner from where you rounded off last night before falling asleep.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the pages having read the story over a thousand times before, but the niggling voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously similar to your mothers has you reading the same paragraph over and over again.

A kiss being pressed to the top of your hand is the first greeting from Draco. The next is a quiet good morning as he pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

You smile at the blonde-haired teenager, looking up from your book, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Love, is everything okay?” Draco asks; immediately spotting that something is off.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing to worry about, love. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Draco chuckles; not entirely convinced but happy to wait until you come to him. “It’s because you didn’t stay with me last night.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, “I’ve stayed in your dorm the last three nights; it’s only a matter of time before someone says something.”

Draco shrugs; leaning over to peck your cheek, “Let them, I don’t care.”

“You will when we get caught out by Snape on a random inspection,” You comment with a light laugh.

Draco smiles broadly at the idea of the Head of Slytherin ever completing a random inspection of the dungeon. He grabs a slice of toast from the rack and reaches for the marmalade.

His eyes wander over the lack of food in front of you, “Already eaten?”

You nod, smirking, “And all alone as well since you take so long in the mornings.”

He laughs, “It takes time to look this good, darling.”

“Sure it does,” You comment, leaning in to peck him on the lips. He hums against your mouth happily, but all too soon, you pull away, “I’m off to the library before class, I want to get ahead on the History of Magic essay. I’ll see you later.”

You drop another kiss to Draco’s mouth before hoisting your bag onto your shoulder and departing from the Great Hall.

Draco shakes his head at your retreating figure; something about you was off, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. He wasn’t going to pester you as it would only make things worse, but he knew he had to address it before you lost yourself from overthinking.

Draco bites into his toast; already thinking of the ways he can talk to you.

----

Your days are always filled with little highlights; seeing the first flower bloom after a long winter or reading your favourite part of your book without being interrupted or it’s finding Draco waiting outside your classroom after every lesson of the day.

You find him waiting opposite the door to your class; leaning against the wall with his robes open, showing the white buttoned shirt underneath. His rebelliousness highlighted in the undone top button and untucked shirt. You shake your head as you make your way over to the teenager that made your heart stutter.

He grins, holding his elbow out to you, “Lunch, my love?”

“Lead the way.”

The Great Hall is loud upon your arrival. Students shouting, laughing, grabbing for food from the centre of the tables. It’s a ruckus, but it makes you smile as you take a seat across from Draco at the Slytherin table.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Draco asks with a frown at the sight of your plate.

You nod your head; your mother’s words from this morning making another round in your head, “I’m not overly hungry.”

The frown doesn’t leave Draco’s face, and through lunch, he glances between your face and the plate, wondering what’s changed for your appetite to have disappeared.

Draco walks you to your next class after the bell rings signalling the end of lunch.

He pauses outside the classroom, keeping a tight grip on your hand. His other hand reaches up to caress your cheek; a rare form of PDA from the Slytherin Prince who was more than happy to kiss and hold hands but would rarely show his feelings so openly.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?” He asks; concern alight in his eyes.

You hold his hand to your cheek; pressing a kiss to the palm, “I would.”

He nods silently. Kissing your forehead, Draco turns away, striding to his next class.

Guilt stirs within you like a lead balloon; weighing you down for the rest of the day. Even the ringing of the final bell of the day wasn’t enough to lift your mood.

Draco continues to meet you after every class; his arm always ready for you to slip yours through. But he’s quieter; more sombre as he leads your through the bustling corridors and staircases.

At the end of the day, he escorts you to the Great Hall. The level of noise quieter from lunch but still loud as students discuss their plans for the evening over the food laid out on the long, wooden tables.

Dinner is a feast by any standard, and Draco tucks right in, piling food onto his plate – ravenous after a day filled with exam preparation. You take your time with your meal; selecting more and more vegetables as you think back to the letter and diet regiment now burning a hole through your bag.

Draco sighs as he watches you pick at your food. He reaches over, checking your temperature with the back of his hand on your forehead, “Well you feel fine,” he murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve picked at your food all day, and you’ve become more distant as the day’s gone on.”

“I’ll talk to you about it in the common room,” You state.

“You will?”

Nodding, you promise,  “I will.”

Draco makes his way through the rest of the meal; drawing you into a conversation after conversation about how the day has been. When his plate is empty and yours has been pushed to one side, Draco stands from the bench. He takes one last drink of his pumpkin juice before holding his hand out to you.

The walk to the common room is quiet; you think over the letter in your bag, wondering about the reply you’re going to send back to your mother. One cross word from you and you wouldn’t be surprised if she, herself, showed up in Dumbledore’s office demanding punishment for your insolent words.

It was tiring, you realise, to be her daughter.

The Slytherin common room is silent when Draco leads you through the door; all students either still eating in the Great Hall or ambling about the castle. You settle on the black leather couch in front of the already lit fire; you hum at the warmth it gives off – holding your hands out to warm them through.

Once your hands are warm enough, you lean back into the couch. Feeling Draco’s eyes on you, you shift your head, facing him with a small smile.

Draco tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You sigh, opening your bag and pulling out the letter. Handing it to Draco, you say wryly, “Dear old mama wrote, that’s what.”

Draco scans over the letter; getting to the three lines that have played on your mind all day and have affected your eating habits so quickly.

Draco folds the letter carefully into the three; he folds it ever so neatly before ripping it to pieces in front of your eyes, leaning forward and throwing the tiny pieces into the fire.

“I hope you don’t believe a word she’s written.”

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I should stop eating so much.”

Draco leaps up from the couch; spreading his arms wide, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your weight – you do not need to lose, you do not need to gain. You are perfect the way you are. I love you to pieces, but darling, your mother is an awful person. What sort of person sends that to their child?”

He kneels on the ground in front of you, “I will love you no matter what. The sky could be green, and the clouds could be purple hedgehogs, but even that would not distract me from my love for you.”

He gestures to the pieces of parchment now turning to ash in the flames, “Everything about you is beautiful; from the top of your head to the tip of your toes – there isn’t anything about you I don’t adore. Reply to your mother if you must; tell her that you’ve let me read the letter and that I absolutely disagree with her words.”

Draco surges forward, kissing you soundly. He shifts slightly, beginning to press you into the couch, “I love you – just the way you are.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

[ghostofstudentspast]

Sunshine

This one was requested by my lovely mutual @wifi--witch who's been here since the start! Hopefully it's what you wanted (also it’s written in Neville’s perspective for a change which was fun!) - June x

When Neville bumps into the nicest girl he's ever had the pleasure of knowing, he's baffled to find out the truth about her house!

Word count: 1500 ish Warnings: None! It's a fluffy feel good fic x

Wandering through Diagon Alley the week before returning to Hogwarts was one of Neville's favourite things. Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley walked beside him pratteling on about anything and everything as the trio browsed for their school supplies and little treats. The summer sun was shining down on them and eerything felt right in Neville's world. Until... "Oof-" Neville felt all of the air being knocked out of his lungs as someone smacked into him.

In front of him stood the most beatiful girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. Your hair shone brightly under the sun and your eyes, which were wide with concern, he could have drowned in.

"Oh jeez, I am so sorry!" the girl in front of him looked up with concern, "I was just completely in my own world," you crouched down to pick up the bag Neville had dropped in shock.

"N-no, I-that's okay, I wasn't paying attention either," Neville managed to get out as you handed him the bag, hands briefly grazing against each other.

"Call it even then?" Her eyes sparkled with mirth as you held out her hand for him to shake, "I'm Y/N, by the way!" 

"Neville,” he took your soft hand in his own and the smile that broke out on your face was mesmirizing.

She smiles like sunshine, he thought.

“It was really nice to meet you Neville but I am already so late and I’d rather not be chewed out by my mother so I have to run!” you grinned up at him, “see you around Hogwarts?” you questioned

“Y-yeah, see you,” he trailed off as you bounded past him, hair flying behind you as you narrowly dodged a few more strangers.

He quickly rushed to catch up with his friends again who had stopped a few meters down the cobblestone street. Ginny was feigning interest in the book store they’d stopped in front of while Luna stared blatently at her friend.

“She was pretty,” Luna observed serenely.

“Yeah, I suppose she was,” Nevilles ears burned and he feared he may be as red as Ginny’s hair. The redhead in question was pressing her lips together to control the laughter he knew would soon come spilling out.

“I think you would make very attractive babies,” Luna said very seriously. Ginny lost it at this and Nevilles face only felt hotter.

“She’s not a Gryffindor is she?” He voiced after his friends had calmed down and started walking again.

“Nah, would’ve recognized her!” Ginny shook her head.

“She’s not in Ravenclaw either,” Luna chimed in as she strolled past a pet store and admired the lizards. “Lot of Nargles following her,” Luna shook her head sadly as if that explained everything. _______________________________

The first few weeks back at school went off without a hitch. No drama, no teachers yelling at him (yet) and best of all double block Herbology.Yet even surrounded by his friends, Neville found himself craning his head at mealtimes looking for a Y/H/C head of hair and that bright smile that haunted his dreams.

So when you strode into his Herbology class a week late, sporting an apologetic look he was all the more intruiged. You stopped at Professor Sprout to have an animated conversation and she offered a sympathetic smile.

“Who shows up a week late to Hogwarts,” Hermione sniffed from beside him where they were working at the same station.

“Y/L/N that’s who,” Lavender Brown hissed across the table shaking her head, “Her parents have donated as much money to this place as the Malfoys, maybe even more.”

Hermione huffed at this and returned to work but Neville’s eyes were glued to the back of your head. When you spun around to stride towards the empty spot across the room his eyes caught the glint of a silver and green tie perfectly knotted on your chest.

“She’s in Slytherin?” He voiced out loud to no one in particular as the Slytherin in question waltzed over to Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson with a wide grin, embracing them both.

“Duh,” Lavender rolled her eyes with a snort of laughter. As if he was meant to have known.

Neville must have been burning a hole in your head because your gaze snapped up to meet his, his ears turning red once again. Your lips spread into a wide smile as you offered him an excited little wave. Daphne whispered something in your ear at this and you smacked her on the arm good naturedly in response, attention diverted from him once more.

There was just no way that you could be THAT nice and in Slytherin of all houses.

________________________________________________________

No matter what he did, the rest of the day you occupied Neville’s mind. Your beautiful smile and that stupid green tie. He knew he should just shrug off this little crush he had on you and move on with his day becaue there was no way you would be into a Gryffindor right? Let alone Neville. 

Taking up a table in the back of the library he got to work on some of his more recent homework. Saving Herbology for last, he knew everything else would be abandonded once he got to the project Professor Sprout had assigned.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the castle for you,” a voice interrupted his train of thought, “Let me tell you, it is not easy to find one boy in this place. So many hiding places and you were in the library the whole time,” you rambled on as Neville stared at you with wide eyes.

“Me? You were looking for me?” His eyebrows were probably in his hairline by now.

“Yeah! Professor Sprout told me I should ask you to catch me up on the week of work I missed,” you smiled and sat down across the table from him. He felt a sneaking sense of dissapointment, of course it was about school. “She says you’re the most gifted herbologist in the year!”

Neville felt the urge to shrink back at the compliment and pulled out his Herbology notes silently to have something to do. He slid them across the table towards you with a small awkward smile.

“Oh, thank you, but I was actually hoping you could talk me through everything,” You slid the parchment back to him, “I wouldn’t want to just copy your notes, that feels wrong.”

“Oh,” Neville cleared his throat and tried to find words. Any words. “Well-um, yeah, I can do that,” He pulled his notes toward himself and looked over the topics quickly. “We started with the properties of Aconite and how it relates to the wolfsbane potion, since we’ll be covering that in Potions this term...”

Once Neville was on a roll about Herbology it was hard to slow him down. He kept rattling off facts he found interesting and pertinent to the class and was only encouraged when you slid your chair closer to him to read along with his notes over his shoulder.

“And then this week, I’m sure you already know, We’re covering Venomous Tentacula’s which means it’s going to be one hell of a double block,” he chuckled to himself and turned to look at you, only to find you already staring at him with interest. He had to swallow the lump in his throat as his cheeks flushed. You were closer than he’d thought.

“Sprout wasn’t kidding! You’re like some sort of Herbology prodigy,” You grinned and Neville’s blush only darkened at the compliment. “No chance you’d wanna be my partner for the upcoming project would you?” You almost seemed shy asking.

“Oh, um...yeah, I could, I mean yeah that’d be nice,” Neville managed to stutter out.

“Oh good,” you sighed in relief and relaxed against your chair, “I mean I really need all the help I can get in this class.” You let out a light laugh.

And there was that sinking dissapointment again. He had to remind himself you were here for help, not because you liked him.

“Plus, I mean, you seem really sweet,” You smiled over to him hesitantly, “I think I could really like you.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and looked away quickly, a blush of your own creeping onto your face.

“Y-you’re really sweet too,” Neville said finally, finding his voice again, “um the Hogsmeade weekend in a few weeks..would you want to go? With me I mean...as a date?” the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He was almost regretting the word vomit when you turned your brillaint smile to him. He relaxed immediately and couldn’t help smile back at you.

“I would love to,” you leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, “Thank you for asking,” You smiled and sat back in your seat. “Oh shoot I have to go!” You sprang up.

“See you tomorrow?” Neville asked hesitantly.

You nodded quickly, “Meet me here after lunch,” You smiled and turned to leave “See you tomorrow Neville!” You called over your shoulder as Madamme Pinch shushed you on your way out.

A date. Nevilled grinned and leaned back in his chair. He’d asked you on a date and you’d said yes. The girl who smiled like sunshine.

[sapphicwhxre]

you

♥︎ pairing: ginny weasley x fem!houseneutral!reader

♥︎ summary: ginny distances herself from you because she thinks you love someone else.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: angst, heartbreak, self hate/comparison, total inconsistency since if you're in the trio’s year you wouldn’t have class with ginny + astoria isn’t in ginny’s year but shush its a fic

pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and all your other favourite treats jumped around in ginny’s bag. the gryffindor girl had gone to help ron woo some mystery girl who he’d taken a liking to and stumbled upon his stash of candies. ginny had called it a fee for her services and decided she’d share her earnings with the girl she loved most, both as a friend and more ─ that girl was you and as far as ginny knew, you were completely oblivious to her feelings.

it was a wednesday afternoon so she could only assume you were having your weekly study session with the gryffindor golden girl herself, hermione granger.

the pep in her step made her red hair bounce on her shoulders, her excitement to see you growing with each one she took. ginny turned the corner, finally at your study spot and she paused. you looked emotional, to put it simply, and you clutched what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment that someone had changed their mind about tossing.

there was a nervous gloss to your eyes and ginny thought she should leave, letting you and hermione talk alone. but her curiosity and just the way she cared for you got the best of her.

taking a deep breath and not noticing ginny behind the pillar ─ where she wasn’t so much as hiding, but quietly observing ─ you started to read off of the parchment. “there’s no easy way to say this,” you read clearly, but your shy, quivering smile gave away how you felt about reading what was written. was it a letter? had you written it? “but i love you.”

ginny’s heart stopped. she swallowed thickly, uncertain of how to process the sinking feeling in her chest. you exhaled shakily and smiled, biting your lip and staring down at the words you'd written.

“i love your hair,” you laughed, running your hand over your own nervously. “i love your eyes when you’re happy and the sound of your voice. did you know your nose scrunches when you laugh? it’s adorable. i’ve never met someone who brights up my life like you do. i love how you always know what to say and i love that i can be myself with you. i love your heart, you’re everything i adore. i love when i can look into your eyes because mine fill with the love i’ve only ever felt for you. the only thing more beautiful to me is you. it’s that same look that i’ve never been able to tell if you’ve given me back. my thoughts go cloudy when i’m with you. i love you so much. you’re... you. how could i not have fallen in love with you?"

as she looked at hermione’s angel-like face, ginny felt hot drops of some form of sadness more intense than she even knew possible well up in her eyes. hermione’s lips were parted in awe and she was smiling.

hermione granger, brightest, most beautiful witch of her age. beside you, in ginny’s opinion, but you were right. how could you not have fallen in love with hermione?

you folded up the letter and sighed, no longer reading but still going. “even if you don't love me, it was worth every word. i’ve never regretted anything when it comes to loving you. yours, y/n l/n.”

hermione grinned at you, “that was beautiful, y/n. truly... gods, i didn’t know you had that in you.” ginny fled, not wanting to watch what came next or hear what hermione had to say about how she felt for you. she’d break like the porcelain her skin resembled if hermione said she loved you back... if hermione kissed you, like ginny had only dreamed of.

wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she hated herself. y/n loves hermione. she just wished she hadn’t listened. she shouldn’t have fallen for you in the first place or let herself have foolish hope. even more foolish to think she could ever win you over when you could have hermione. older, brighter, and beautiful. she was fool, and now ginny believed had paid the price for it.

but had she stayed only a second longer, she’d have heard hermione’s stunned words. “ginny’s going to love every word, y/n, i know it.” bubbling with nerves, you threw yourself to hug her and squeezed tightly, just as ginny turned to steal one last glance at you. “thank you ‘mione, you’re the best.”

you were inaudible from the distance but there you were in hermione’s arms, giggling and chattering. despite the fact that you were joking about her own crush, ron, the sight only made ginny sick. ginny lost her appetite and made her way to her dorm, instead of the great hall where dinner would be starting in just a few minutes.

the heartbroken girl probably would have thrown up right then and there, had she seen you and hermione walk into the great hall. arm in arm, you were practically shaking with anticipation. of course, she’d incorrectly imagined that you’d be parading in with intertwined fingers and smeared lipstick but through a made up mind, it’d look like all the same.

“where’s gin?” you found a seat next to ron and harry, scanning the table for her red ponytail. through a mouthful of food, ron shrugged and answered, “must have gotten held up.” hermione rolled her eyes with disgust, silently scolding him for his ill manners.

you took the opportunity to tease the two. “never invite me to dinner at your home, save the fighting for your kids.” they both blushed heavily and stammered out how they’d never fancy the other, then immediately spewing out offense at the implication. ron huffed and harry spoke over them, rolling his eyes heavily.

“what about you, y/n? i thought you and ginny would be an item by now,” harry didn't really care either way, but it did seem ridiculous for the two of you to dance around dating for so long, especially since he somewhat saw her as a little sister. and truth be told, everyone was curious about you two.

even ron perked up and hermione smirked knowingly. “leave her alone, it’s none of your business,” she announced.

ron narrowed his eyes and started, “hermione, do you know something?” hurrying to stop them from bickering again, you cleared your throat. “i wrote ginny a letter, laying out exactly how i feel for her. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go find her because i don’t think she’s coming.”

you hopped out of your seat, taking some food for her, and left poor harry alone with the arguing lovebirds to go confess your feelings.

you hummed to yourself, going to knock on ginny’s dorm door. her dorm mate opened the door and looked you up and down, glaring angrily. “what do you want?” she crossed her arms and scoffed. taken aback, you blinked and searched the room for ginny, who was curled up in her bed crying.

“excuse me? get out of my way, i need to see ginny. is she alright?” the girl eyed you, as if scanning you for a lie, and she supposed you were sincere in your concern. “she’ll be fine, just give her some space.”

without another word, the gryffindor slammed the door in front of you and you were left staring at the shut dorm, filled with confusion and a harrowing worry. your hand fell and defeated, you shoved your love letter into your pocket.

you didn’t see ginny the next day in class. or the day after that. she wasn’t talking to any of her brothers, you, or harry and had even turned the other way when you waved her down. it was like she was avoiding you and after a week of it, you came to the conclusion that she must be. ginny’s schedule resided in your mind so you set to confront her after potions. a girl with a mission was a force that should never be reckoned with ─ ginny taught you that.

“it shouldn't be too hard if we get some studying in,” ginny was discussing an upcoming exam with astoria greengrass, a slytherin girl in her year. you rather awkwardly stopped in front of the two and watched them part ways, ginny sending you a scarily pissed off glare. the tension could be cut with a knife and you and ginny blurted at the same time.

“you’re avoiding me!”

“i heard you and hermione!”

anger slipping, ginny avoided your eyes. “well that’s why i’ve been avoiding you. i’m sorry, i know i should be happy for you,” she started to ramble and you stared at her, baffled. happy for you and hermione? “i thought i didn’t care, that i could just push my feelings for you aside. it’s just that when you read that letter to hermione, there was so much... love in your voice. it hurt. i want to be the one you love.”

dumbfounded, you realised that she’d thought the letter was for hermione. “oh fuck, ginny no,” you stumbled, making her step back, assuming you were rejecting her. this wasn’t how you wanted to tell her that you loved her, it was supposed to go better than this. “wait! what i mean is─”

“you made it pretty damn clear what you mean, y/n,” ginny sniffled. “i think it's best if i just─” you cut her off with a kiss. you grabbed her face, kissing her like you’d never tasted something so sweet and you just couldn't get enough. she pulled back, breath heavy on your lips. “but... but hermione,” she whispered and you laughed, eyes fluttering shut and head shaking.

“i was reading it to her to practice on you. it was always for you ginny, it’s always been you.” the smile that you missed all week finally enraptured the lips you’d be kissing as much as you possibly can now that you knew you could. “and besides, she fancies your brother.” ginny thought for a moment and then sighed in embarrassment. but she said nothing as she knew you’d only reassure her and she knew this was how things ought to be.

ginny wrapped her arms around you and melted into your embrace, burying herself in your warmth and tugging you closer ─ though with no distance between you two, the gesture wasn’t very efficient. “so you love me?” she just wanted to hear you say it.

“i love you, ginny.”

“i love you, y/n.”

──────♥︎

[amphxtrite]

fred weasley x fem!reader

This is for @feetoffthetable ‘s 500 follower writing challenge. Congratulations again on 500!!

hope you like it.

prompts:

“What happened to their happily ever after?”

“Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just once upon a time.”

warnings: angst, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

word count: 3.1k

tag list: @cupidpoison @marvelhoesworld @wonderful-writer

enjoy<3

__________________________________________

Almost every girl can remember the days where they’d dream of their fairytale romance. Dancing, a prince charming and a kiss in the moonlight as every problem faded away; A thrilling fight between the lovers and the evil villain ending with the two wrapped in each other’s arms. Despite being muggle tales, the wizarding world had also grown to adore these stories, smiles widening on even grown witches' faces with each ‘once upon a time.’

You’d grown up reading about maidens being swept off their feet into the arms of their knight in shining armor, fate seemed to encompass every story you laid your eyes on, so when Fred Weasley entered your life, with a charming smile and a playfulness that had you wanting more, you couldn’t help but fall.

And so began the pining. Stares across the classroom at the wave of red hair, crossing your fingers when group projects were announced, peeking down corridors to see if you could catch the prankster twins in action, and daydreaming from dawn till dusk. You could barely get words past your lips if he ever smiled in your direction. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to run your hand through his hair. Doodling his name on parchment became common, and dreams of dancing with him plagued your mind. You were young, and in love. You could almost feel your fairy godmother pushing you towards him, fairy tale magic coursing through your veins whenever your eyes would meet.

It took a couple years, but you found your voice. Starting small with congratulations after quidditch games, an occasional joke during classes, a couple more smiles here and there.

The unrequited love, became returned. Fred Weasley thought you were just the shy girl from his transfiguration class, quiet and meek. When you built up the confidence to strike up conversations and joke about Snape’s hair, he found himself hanging onto your every word.

The older twin went from not knowing your name to looking forward to even his most boring classes just to catch a glimpse of your face. Making you smile became his mission, and Godric did he love it when your face would completely light up. Not just a small smirk, but when your eyes sparkle, your lips pull up far enough to see your teeth and your cheeks go a bit pink, that was most definitely his favourite sight.

Even the most enchanting storybook couples would stare amazed at the adoration Fred Weasley and Y/n L/n shared for each other. Two best friends pining for the other without realizing the mutual warmth that had grown. Spending countless hours together, hiding their flushed cheeks, sweaty palms and loving eyes to enjoy every moment spent together.

When the Yule ball was announced Fred had fallen flat on his face running up to ask you. He’d spotted you in the clock tower courtyard with one of your friends and he knew immediately, you were the only person he’d want to go with. He sprinted up to you intending to drop to his knee and ask, but his foot got caught in the stone and he fell for you the second time. Now any other person may have lost hope and ran away, but Fred Weasley was determined to make the most of it, rebounding it with a cheesy pick up line, In true Fred fashion.

Cinderella would’ve glared in jealousy when the two of you waltzed across the dance floor. Not only was the night magical, but it was awkward, nervous, and fun. It didn’t seem like the far fetched dance at the end of a film, it felt real. You’d step on his toes and he’d shuffle his hand around your waist, but when it came down to it, you didn’t care. You really did feel like a princess dancing in the arms of her lover, swaying to the beautiful music as other students starred in awe at the two gryffindors gliding around the room, laughing happily while moving their feet in a mesmerizing waltz.

That night Fred Weasley finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he got down on his knee in the middle of the dance floor, pouring his heart out to you, his confession wiping even the soliloquies of Romeo Montague out of the water.

“Y/n, from the moment you started to talk to me in our third year, I fell. You make me smile, laugh, blush and always know how to cheer me up. Honestly, why didn’t you start talking to me sooner? I never knew how much I needed you, but my eyes have been cleared, my feelings in tune and now I’m asking you on the dance floor to maybe take this foolish man to be your prince?”

Droplets emerged from your eyes as you shook your head up and down, happy tears flowing free as you pulled the red-head up again.

The entire student body had paused to take in the scene before them, watching in surprise as Fred Weasley stood to his feet to dip the girl with tear stained cheeks into a low kiss, only standing again to catch his breath before stealing you away out the door.

You’d give anything to go back to that night. The seed of young adoration finally blossoming into a flower of love. Love so true, beautiful and pure you’d probably blind anyone who saw. You ran through the halls to Black Lake, dancing to the beats of your hearts in the embrace of your love, swaying in the moonlight as puzzle pieces of your life finally seemed to fall into place and stars aligned.

Holding your love in your arms is a feeling so surreal and fantastic, something that has an addicting property that you couldn’t help but crave. When Fred’s arms surrounded you, you didn’t feel trapped, enclosed, barricaded. You felt free, as though you could fly.

It is hard to define love, but what was between the redhead prankster and gryffindor dreamer painted a clear picture for anyone to see. Love opens the best in us, it reveals pieces of us never seen before and unlocks emotions never known. Fred grew more in love with you with each passing day and his desire to see the smile upon your face never faded.

Your love for your prince charming was something that would never be taken away from you. Everyday took your breath away and every time Fred smiled at you, your brain seemed to turn to mush, the childhood pining never seemed to leave.

Your last year at Hogwarts brought about some problems, with the monstrous pink toad and Fred’s tendencies for trouble, you could say difficulties were inevitable. Nights where Fred snuck into your dorm broken down, tired, and ready to collapse became frequent, especially after he was banned from the quidditch team. Fred was hesitant to reveal his sensitivity, but with cuts across his hands and the loss of his favourite activity, he was willing to lose it all just to rest in your arms again. Many nights he’d run to you, exhausted and restless. You’d hold him close, soothe him the best you could and heal his wounds to the best of your abilities. You didn’t know what to say, but you didn’t need to talk. Fred was content laying on your chest as you fussed over him, pressing kisses across his freckled face and mumbling rather choice words under your breath about the pink devil as you gently caressed his injured hand as light as a butterfly.

You were the first person he’d told his scheme to leave Hogwarts to, begging you to go with him and start a new life in a place he’d dreamt of since he was a child. He honestly wasn’t expecting you to agree, but how could you not? It’s not like you had much planned. Anyways, you were tired of the pain Fred had to endure during the past year, so if he was ready to leave, so were you.

You’d compare flying a broom into the sky as fireworks flashed behind you, to riding into the sunset on the back of a stallion, but yours was so much cooler. Fred had grabbed you from the floor and pulled you onto his broom, you clutched onto him for dear life as he and George flew their last victory lap and destroyed every last horrid plaque of rules that hung on the walls of the school of magic. Another feeling of freedom was evident throughout the entire building as victorious cheers sound from every window.

This was definitely better than a ride into the sunset.

Life with the twins in Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes couldn’t be defined by just one word. It was exciting, chaotic and the most fun you’ve had in your life. Designing product boxes and using charms was more of your strong suit while the boys caused explosion after explosion, perfecting their concoctions. As weeks turned into months, you and Fred felt as though you were really living a couple’s life. Waking up wrapped in each other’s arm without the worry of being caught, making and eating breakfast to tunes on the radio, dancing to a record player as day bled into night and your feet finally got sore.

This is how fairy tale characters must feel after their story ends, you’d think every day, happy and so deeply in love, relishing every moment together and at peace.

You’d finally been introduced to Mrs. Weasley that coming Christmas, her tender love really made you feel welcome and almost moved you to tears.

“It’s nice to see Freddie finally found someone who loves him as much as you do, I can see it in your eyes darling, you’re perfect for him.”

Fred never understood why they said ‘fall’ in love, sure you may feel your senses fade at times but it was never like a fall. If it made sense he’d say he rose into love for you. You brought him to cloud nine, you raised his spirits whenever you joked with him when he was down. You raised the corners of his lips into a smile by just existing. You raised him further towards his dreams and supported him no matter what. Ironically, he dropped to his knee to propose to you, just like he had in your sixth year at the Yule Ball, once again pouring his heart out to you, this time to truly make you his.

“Here we are again, love.” He laughed as he fell to his knee behind you in a muggle park not too far from Diagon Alley.

“Darling, I love you. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You push me towards my dreams, comfort me when I’m upset, and make me smile every single day. I realized how much I needed you back in our sixth year, but today I ask you to seal the deal and become, y/n Weasley?”

It is hard to define love, so many forms of it, so many ways to express it and spread it to the people around you, but when Fred Weasley proposed to you, people looked over and felt the unconditional love between two people that brought tears to their eyes. When Fred Weasley looked at you, you were his everything. His past, present and future, his calm during a storm, his brightest star.

When Y/n said yes, you could hear the love of the purest of heart. The love of a best friend and a partner.

Love opens the best in us, it reveals pieces of us never seen before and unlocks emotions never known. Fred could now ensure a smile on your face for the rest of your days, and the childhood pining could finally rest knowing you would be with this man forever.

When the war finally pulled the wizarding world into the dark, the prankster and the dreamer knew they wouldn’t be able to stand to the side. They needed to help bring back the peace, and they would fight beside the people they cared about. The wedding was postponed until further notice, but it was sworn on a pinky promise that as soon as the chaos was over, you’d pick up where you left off and walk down the aisle in your white dress.

As you stood on the Hogwarts school ground, death eaters on every side and Voldemort cackling maniacally, you reached out for your prince’s hand. Closing your eyes to regain your calm before you had to charge into the incoming fight. Fred had squeezed your hand before pressing his lips to yours in the most passionate kiss the two of you had ever shared.

Looking back, you should’ve held Fred there with you, by your side throughout the entire fight. You should have kept your hands interlocked, standing tall by each other’s side, an unbreakable force to be reckoned with.

Instead the two of you charged forward separated, fighting close, but by your friends’ sides, throwing spell after spell to inch closer to a brighter future. Pain didn’t matter, each wave of your wand could be a step closer to a happy tomorrow.

It was almost thrilling fighting by your classmate, protecting them brought a new sense of purpose to your being and drowned out everything else to focus on the task at hand. Things were turning your way, Neville slayed that dreaded snake, Harry returned, Voldemort would never win now right? Everything would turn out fine. Right?

How wrong you were.

Victory was within reach, death eaters were filtering into smaller numbers and your friends were still alive. Your head was swivelling for your love, the only thought on your mind being to find your prince, your knight, the love of your life. The flash of red hair was just ahead, the light at the end of the tunnel was right there. You called out his name and his head whipped to meet yours. Your eyes met and you could see your future, your wedding, a family, growing old with this man.

Then the rubble fell, and in a flash, everything was taken away from you.

It is hard to define love, but when witches and wizards heard the shrill cry of a heart being torn in half, they could feel the love y/n l/n held for Fred Weasley. The pure, unconditional love that would’ve withstanded the test of time and any problem life could throw her way. The love that had so much hope many people turned away, it was too much to bear. The love that had you digging even though your hands were scabbed and bleeding.

Now when you ask how Fred Weasley showed his love in this scenario, the only thing to say was he died with a smile on his face. He died knowing his last sight was the love of his life running towards him, ready to turn to the next chapter of their lives.

You dug through the rock frantically, grasping onto the hope that for some divine reason Fred could be alive.

This isn’t how the story is supposed to end, your prince was supposed to wrap you into your arms and every problem was supposed to melt away, you were supposed to marry, kiss in front of all your family and friends and live the rest of your days together.

Realization hit you like a speeding train, you were never going to walk down the aisle to see Fred’s reaction to you in a white dress, you were never going to hold your child in your arms and see Fred become the amazing father you knew he would become. You were never going to see him grey and old, still a prankster and still deeply in love. You were never going to feel his lips against yours ever again. Hear his whispers in your ear about how much he loved you, or his melodic laugh that brought butterflies to your stomach every time.

Turns out, the villain of your story wasn’t unrequited love, it wasn’t Umbridge or even Voldemort. It was something even more cruel and insufferable. Death is not something humans really understand, even the most powerful witches and wizards cannot deny that death will come upon you, it is inevitable. There is so much about death we do not understand. All we know is one minute they’re here, the next they’re gone. But you might say, this is a fairy tale, there’s bound to be a happy solution and our lovers will get their happy ending. No, this is reality and our lovers were not that lucky, and the loss of half a heart is not something to be taken lightly.

“No.”

When Fred’s body was retrieved, you were joined by the rest of the Weasley family in their grieving, and while you could never understand what it would be like to lose a brother and a son, you’d lost the man you were going to spend the rest of your days with, and that left a hole in your heart never to be repaired, never to heal.

To lose a lover, but to hold their lifeless body in your arms is a surreal feeling you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, it’s something that has the power to break even the strongest people and make the most positive lose hope. Every ounce of love in your being spilt through tears that held every wish and hope you’ve ever had. That day you lost your feeling of freedom, and a sick sense of being trapped plagued your every move.

This isn’t how the story was supposed to end.

“What happened to their ‘happily ever after?” A young girl asks her father.

“Well young y/n, as you may know you were named after the very girl who fell in love with my brother and lost everything. Some say she died of a broken heart, others say Freddie came back and took her away to paradise.” An older George Weasley smiles down at his young daughter, snuggled in blankets, clutching a picture frame in her small hands.

“But why couldn’t uncle Fred come back? I thought every fairy tale ends with a happily ever after, those were aunt y/n’s favourite stories right?” Young y/n’s brown eyes flash in confusion and hurt as she lowers the photo of you to her lap.

“Yes, they were her favourite. There was no doubt her and Fred had a love greater than any fairy tale, but not all love stories get a ‘happily ever after.’ Sometimes it’s just a ‘once upon a time.”

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

[lifeofkaze]

October Writing Challenge 2021 - Day 5

Zadie Taylor-Allen belongs to my wonderful bestie @the-al-chemist, Farid Sikander (in mention) belongs to @carewyncromwell

Dedicated to the wine club @kc-and-oc @the-al-chemist @whatwouldvalerydo You know why🌻🌻🌻

It was common knowledge that time moved slower when one wasn’t enjoying themselves, but Reva Amari had never felt the truth of it more ardently than on this sunny winter afternoon. It had snowed the night before, and the grounds of Hogwarts were covered in a thick layer of perfectly white, powdery snow.

Reva could hear the screams and laughter from the other students enjoying themselves in the wintery wonderland through the high windows of the dusty library. She thought wistfully about her new snowboard waiting for her in her dormitory; how much fun would it be to pile up some of the snow and just whisk down the makeshift mound on it. She would even settle for throwing snowballs at the Slytherin Quidditch team; she wasn’t picky at all, as long as it got her out of this lifeless, boring library.

“Reva, concentrate,” the voice of her friend and honourary older sister Danielle broke her out of her musings. “You need to pass this test with flying colours if you don’t want to get taken off the Quidditch team.”

“I know,” Reva sighed deeply. “Give me some credit for trying.”

“I don’t see you trying that hard,” her brother Dylan jumped in. He didn’t even bother raising his eyes from his book about Potions, but he didn’t need to; he knew Reva was rolling her eyes at him without looking.

“It’s not my fault History of Magic is the most boring subject in existence,” Reva complained. “I don’t even know how you manage to stay awake during class.”

“I don’t,” Dylan said flatly, “I get Dana’s notes from the year before.”

Reva opened her mouth to protest but shut it again when she saw the withering glare of the librarian directed her way. “What are you lecturing me about then,” she hissed with a lowered voice, “you’re no better than me.”

“The best notes don’t help if you don’t put the work in to memorise them,” Dana said leniently. “You can have them as well, but that alone won’t do you no good.”

“I need someone to make this more interesting. Right now, this nonsense is drier than the desert,” Reva complained. “Maybe I could ask Farid for help?”

Dylan did look up from his book at her words. “You’re going to do no such thing,” he said with a surprising sharpness in his voice.

Reva smirked at having successfully gotten under her brother’s skin; served him just right. She wanted to tell him so, but was cut short when an enchanted piece of parchment fluttered into her view and landed before her on her textbook.

Curious, Reva picked it up and unfolded it; she recognised the handwriting of her best friend Zadie immediately. The note contained only two words:

Code Sunflower

Next to her, Dana leaned over to take a look; she frowned. “Code Sunflower? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Reva didn’t reply; she was busy stuffing her things into her bag as fast as she could. She was halfway up from her seat when Dana got hold of her arm. “We’re not done here. I’m your prefect and your friend, and I promised to make sure you’ll pass that test,” she said sternly.

“I know, I’ll do it tomorrow, promise,” Reva said hurriedly and gently freed her arm from Dana’s hand. “But this is kind of an emergency.”

Before either Dana or Dylan could say anything else, Reva snatched up her bag and quickly left the library. She made a short detour to the Gryffindor Tower to drop off her things and retrieve some others from her dormitory before she made her way up to the Astronomy Tower. It was one of Zadie’s favourite places and if she was troubled, chances were good she would be there.

As it turned out, Reva had been right. She found her best friend leaned against the wooden railing running around the platform that circled the highest tower of the castle. She was bundled up in a thick coat and her blue-and-bronze Ravenclaw scarf to counter the sharp winds up here. Reva stuffed her own crimson-and-gold scarf deeper into her jacket and buried her hands in her pockets as she stood next to Zadie.

“You were quick,” Zadie said with a small smile.

“It’s Code Sunflower,” Reva replied, “you don’t make someone wait when it’s Code Sunflower.”

“I suppose so,” Zadie sighed and fell silent. A troubled expression crossed her face and Reva waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Reva nudged her gently into the side.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked gently.

Zadie looked out over the snowy grounds and extended her hand. A lone snowflake floated down from the grey sky and landed on her palm. Both girls watched as it slowly melted and left only a tiny puddle of water behind.

“I had Potions earlier,” Zadie said eventually.

“The worst,” Reva said immediately, but fell silent when Zadie gave her a look. “Sorry, go on.”

“You know I’m no good at Potions,” she sighed, “but I was really trying today. But I still messed up. I added the shrivelfig before the valerian sprigs, and all the wrong amounts, too. I don’t know how it happened, my head was somewhere else. My potion started expanding and flowed over the cauldron and the workbench and literally everywhere. It was a disaster.”

“Oh no,” Reva said sympathetically, “that can happen to the best of us, though.”

“I know,” Zadie said passionately, “but that’s not what the professor seemed to think. He was so mad at me. ‘I’m clearly teaching the worse Taylor-Allen girl’ were his words to be exact.”

Zadie sniffed ever so slightly and a wave of righteous anger flooded Reva. How did that old bugger dare talk to Zadie like that? Only because her grades weren’t as perfect as those of her older sister, it didn’t mean Zadie was stupid, or untalented, or anything else but a fantastic witch.

“Screw him,” Reva said fiercely, “he has no idea what he’s talking about. So what, you don’t have a straight O in Potions like Phoebe does. Neither do I. Neither do Dylan or Dana or Victoire. The only person I know who did is Dana’s mum, if I think about it. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know what we’re doing, or makes us stupid or anything like that. Don’t you dare think this even for a second or I’ll give you an earful. You’re brilliant, and talented and great, just in a different way than Phoebe.”

She saw the small smile forming on Zadie’s face and Reva continued. “I very much doubt Phoebe would have been able to block my throws as annoyingly well as you did in our last housematch. That really hurt my pride, you know.”

Zadie threw her head back and laughed, the sound ringing clear into the winter sky. “You’d have transported her right through the hoop. If she had managed to stay on her broom in the first place.”

Reva grinned. “That’s my girl talking.”

She reached into her pocket and produced a small, silver flask she offered to her friend. Zadie raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Do I want to know where you got that from?”

“A gift from my godmother,” Reva laughed, “she sent it over the other day.”

“You know that’s probably 100 % forbidden,” Zadie grinned as she took the flask from Reva and took a small swig.

“I have a reputation to uphold after all,” Reva smirked and took a sip herself. The coffee liqueur burned delightfully and was much milder than she had anticipated. She immediately felt a little warmer.

“Speaking of which,” Reva said slowly, while she furtively pushed the snow on the railing in front of her together, “try blocking this.”

She quickly gathered up the snowball she’d formed and threw it at Zadie. Before Zadie could even react, it had hit her square in the face and Reva couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s dumbfounded expression.

“You didn’t do that for nothing,” Zadie exclaimed before gathering her own load of snow from the ground and throwing it after Reva, who just so managed to duck away from it.

The sky was already darkening when they made their way down from the Astronomy Tower, drenched, shivering and with their faces feeling like they were on fire.

Reva’s cheeks were still flushed from both the cold and the coffee liqueur when she dropped into her seat next to Dana and Dylan in the Great Hall for dinner. Dana looked her up and down with an amused expression, taking in her dishevelled state.

“Is your emergency solved?”

“You could say so, yes,” Reva smiled and helped herself to some deliciously warm soup. She shuddered when she warmed her hands over the steaming bowl.

“Wonderful, just in time to study with me after dinner,” Dana continued. She laughed when Reva pulled a face. “Sorry kiddo, I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. And there won’t be another cryptic message getting you out of this one.”

Dana’s expression turned curious. “What was it about anyway?”

Reva blew against her spoon and winced when she burned her tongue. “It was a message from Zadie.”

“Naturally,” Dylan muttered from the other side of the table, but Reva and Dana both paid him no mind.

“Code Sunflower is when you’re feeling troubled because someone said something stupid and you need to vent,” Reva explained before trying her soup a second time. It warmed her even better than the liqueur had.

Dana blinked at her in surprise. “Why sunflowers, though? They are lovely.”

Reva dipped her head back and laughed at the memory of how they had come up with that code in the first place.

“Trust me,” she giggled, “you don’t want to know.”

[usernoneexistent]

Clover Sweets Profile

okay, figured I would get more details fleshed out onto one place. This is my first attempt at a mood board and @oneirataxia-girl​ helped me with a face claim for her which is Alona Tal from Supernaturals. I’ve never watched the show btw.

General Information

Full name: Clover Mary Sweets

Born: 29th Febuary 1960

Hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA

Nationality/ethnicity: American with British and Jewish roots

Blood status: Half-blood

Personality

Myers-Briggs: INTJ-A (Architect)

Strengths: Rational, Independent, Versatile, Cool headed, Calm, Innovative, Intelligent, Problem solver, Analytical, Loyal

Weaknesses: Overly critical, Judgemental, Perfectionism, Occasionally arrogant (in terms of intelligence), Sarcastic (occasionally), Tactless

Hobbies/interest: Solving puzzles, wizard chess, reading, quodpot, writing novels.

Apperance

Height: 1.70m or 5′5ft

Weight: 56kg or 123lbs 

Physique: Slim but atheletic build 

Hair: Dirty, medium blonde

Eyes: Dark Brown

Skin: Light warmish beige

Scarring: A couple scars from duels

Style: Very business casual, Clover wears a lot of uniformal clothes a bit of academia direction. She prefers trousers over skirts as it’s more practical. 

Witchcraft

Wand: Walnut, Unicorn hairstring, Stiff

Walnut is often in the hands of highly intelligent witches and wizards and are usually magical innovators and inventors. Walnut wands are harder to dominate and will resist spells that are foreign to their nature but once subjegated, they will perform to their owner’s desires if they are one of brilliance. They will act upon on accordance to their owner’s morality. 

Unicorn hairstring is the most consistent core in terms of magic. They are least likely to turn to the dark arts but have less powerful spells but it can be compensated by the strength of wood.

Patronus: Owl

Armotentia (what do they smell like?): Parchment with the smell of grass after it rained.

Boggart: Failure represented as a criminal walking away scoot free.

Riddikulus: Her favourite puzzle

At Ilvermorny

House: Horned Serpent

Roles: Prefect

Best Subject(s): Transfiguration and Arithmancy

Worst Subject(s): Basic healing

Elective classes (3rd year): Arithmancy, Martial magic, and Basic healing.

Native or Foreign Magic class (4th year): Native American Practises

Social science class (5th year): Magical Goverments

Quodpot position: still yet to find, but she played for her house

Family

Brother: Harvey Theodore Sweets

* Born 27th September 1953

* Horned Serpent 

* Blue hair, Grey eyes, 1.84m or 6ft, 82kg.

* Works in the department of the Treasury for MACUSA.

* Very logical like Clover and their father. More sarcastic than jokey, quite serious.

* Clover gets along very well with Harvey as they both love magical puzzles and wizard chess.

Sister: Paige Aileen Sweets

* Born 4th August 1955

* Wampus

* Blue hair, Brown eyes, 1.60m or 5′2ft, 47kg.

* Also works as an auror like Clover

* Adventerous spirit and a huge need to live life, she isn’t book smart like Harvey and Clover but tends to take a more creative approach. 

* Clover doesn’t along with Paige as well as she does with Harvey. Their worries and priorities in life tend to clash. Paige believes that Clover needs to live a little while Clover thinks that Paige needs to take her work more seriously.

Father: Theodore Sweets Jr

* Born 2nd May 1934

* Horned Serpent 

* Blue hair, Grey eyes, 1.80m or 5′9ft, 75kg.

* Retired auror, now works ocasionally as a consultant.

* He has his mother’s scottish temperament which helped him to stand out and be a leader for his auror team. Very independent and a quick thinker.

* Clover has a tight bond to her father and loves when they solve problems togther, Theodore even used Clover to help him with his cases.

Mother: Lilianna Sweets nee Hoffman

* Born 16th July 1934

* Wampus

* Dark brown hair, Brown eyes, 1.57m or 5′2ft, 50kg. 

* Stay at home mum, does small singing gigs sometimes

* Soft spoken but don’t mistake it for quiet, she is very clear about her thoughts and is very creative.

* Clover loves her mother to bits and hates to make her worry but they do argue sometimes.

Grandfather: Theodore Sweets 

* Born 25th January 1899; Died: 21th January 1969

* Horned Serpent

* Dirty blond hair, Grey eyes, 1.79 or 5′8ft, 75kg.

* Successful inventor, specifically for auror use.

* A very quiet man, tends to keep to himself but is a very loyal man lacking in social skills.

* He was closest to Clover out of all of his grandchildren since they were so alike. She was devestated when her grandpa died.

Grandmother: Aileen Sweets nee Moss

* Born 27th July 1905

* Hufflepuff

* Blue hair, Blue eyes, 1.51m or 4′9ft, 46kg

* Stay at home mum

* A very strong woman, someone not to mess as she will hex you. When she talks, she tends to yell more.

* Aileen and Clover get along well but she’s a little too loud for Clover’s liking.

Second Cousin: Julia Moss

* They meet every year, taking turns visiting USA and Scotland and when Clover was in Britain, Julia gave her a place to stay.

Second Cousins once removed: Jacob and Juniper Moss

* She gets along okay with Jacob, they played a lot together since they are only 2 years apart but Juniper was a little kid at the time so Clover wasn’t as close They have more of a distant relative, see you in the summer type of relationship.

Friendships/Romantic Relationships

Love interest: Jaxton ‘Jax’ Arcane

* Her initial view of Jax was a cocky playboy who was reckless, always bugged by his constant smiling. Clover only required his help as he knew the inner workings and connections in business but after a while they seem to make quite the team. Strange feelings arises in Clover as she is used to working alone  and has always put romance aside, so her focus can be on her career but maybe it’s nice not being alone all the time.

Best Friend: Joanne Ironwood

* Joanne is Clover’s childhood friend and they stayed tight throughout Ilvermorny and later in their adult life.

Friend: Keira Arcane

* Sister of Jax, Clover and Kiera were wary of each at the start since Clover just seemed to crash into her life but over time they grew to trust each other 

Extra Information

* Clover graduated top of her year and ranked top three for auror training

* She is on the autistism spectrum but was never diagnosed since it was the 60/70s and the wizarding community seems to label it as her being odd.

* She’s very competative which is why she excelled at Quodpot.

* Her guilty pleasure is romance novels.

[a-simple-imagine]

A Little Bit Of Love... Potion?

Prompt: "I promise I won't let him draw on your face with permanent marker." "Hmmm... So can I draw on his face with washable markers?" "No!"

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader, lots of Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 4.6k

A/N - This was written for @firewhisky-kisses​ writing challenge. This is my second Harry Potter themed story ever since I only joined the fandom like two weeks ago (very much feeling like an outsider atm) so please don’t judge too harshly. I am still getting used to these characters and the wizarding world itself. I decided to write something a little lighthearted. 

Warnings - Playful threats of violence 

"I'm gonna kill him," You growl loudly as you storm into the common room in search of Hermione Granger. She was one of three people at Hogwarts you would consider your best friend. The others were Harry Potter; and the other you were about to murder for catching you off guard. You held a towel around the top of your head to conceal your worst nightmare. Stray Gryffindors were settled around the room doing one thing or another as the day was drawing to a close. Hermione was resting on an armchair by the fire utterly engrossed by the massive book in her hands.

"Who?" She doesn't even bother to look up as you approach.

"Ron obviously," You groan, grip tightening on the towel to stop it from slipping. "who else would go out of their way to annoy me."

An unamused sigh falls past her lips as she finally lowers her book. "Show me,"

"No, it's embarrassing." You protest. Looking around the room; you didn't speak to anyone else in here too often so what did it even matter what they thought.

"Well then I can't help you,"

You shift your weight uncomfortably before pulling the towel off in a dramatic reveal of your beautiful head. Hermione's eyes drift over you; struggling to hold back her amusement as she finally sees what happened. "It's... not so bad," She replies quietly, a melodic chuckle drifting into the air. "Bright."

"I look like a walking highlighter." You whine, taking a seat on the arm of her chair. "Fix it,"

Hermione whips out her wand and with a flick of her wrist you assume your hair has gone back to normal. She was too good of a witch for it to not have. Reaching for her book, you inspect the cover as you slide into her lap. Absentmindedly flipping through the pages with complete disregard for where she was up to. "Ronald Weasley is gonna regret ever messing with me,"

"It is not that bad," Hermione plucks the book from your grasp. "You did slip him Puking Pastilles the other day."

"That was funny though" A smile spreads over your lips at the memory of Ron throwing up in the great hall before charging out. “This isn’t”

"He threw up all over my shoes,"

"Gross," you laugh a little. "If it had been my shoes, it'd be a different story. What should I do to get back at him?"

"Leave him alone? Show you're the mature one and move on?"

"Don't be silly Hermione," Your head falls back against the plush fabric of the chair. "Why should I stop and not him? Maybe he should be the mature one."

"He won't stop unless you stop,"

"I could hex his broom at quidditch practice," You think out loud; chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Watch him fall on his face."

"Absolutely not. You're not putting him in the hospital wing over some silly prank war."

You gently roll your eyes. "We could-"

"There's no we," Hermione interrupts. "Please do not include me in your nonsense. I'm not helping you. Can you get off me?"

Sliding off her lap and onto the floor, you rest your head against her knee. "I'll think of something- don't you worry. He won't be getting away with this."

"At least do it quietly,"

You're quiet for the moment; going over different options while staring at a tower of books on the coffee table. Next to them say some parchment and a quill. "Are those yours? Can I borrow your quill?"

"Knock yourself out,"

You grab the feather and a piece of parchment paper and get to work laying out all your options to get back at Ron. Hermione would probably kill you if you hurt him so that rules out a fair few things. You could buy something at Zonko's but at this point he'd probably see those coming; you can only slip him sweets that make him sick so many times. Then again maybe it was just simple enough to work. You scribble it down on the parchment paper anyway. Next you add the nose biting teacup but that was rather impractical considering he hardly ever drank tea. Acid lollipops were an option, they would just burn a hole in his tongue but that could count as hurting him even if it was an easy fix.

"What are you writing?" Hermione wonders, you glance up to her and smile a little. "I assume you’re not studying all of a sudden."

"Nope," You hold up the paper for her. "I'm listing ways to get back at Ron."

"Of course you are," She takes your list. "Why don't you just buy a joke wand?"

"Boring," Jumping to your feet, you snatch the paper back. "I need to do something out of the box."

"Don't come to me when things go wrong," She insists softly, returning her attention to her book.

"Things won't go wrong," You declare proudly. You'd been doing this since your second year so you kind of have a knack for pulling pranks at this point. "Have a little faith in me."

It takes a day or two but thanks to Harry dragging you along to advanced potions class at the start of the year you decide the perfect way to get back at Ron is to make him fall in love with you. Well, a weird embarrassing obsession kind of love. Commence operation; practice your potion making by creating a love potion and tricking Ron into consuming it. Not only do you get to embarrass him but it can count as studying which will keep Hermione at bay. Not that you're going to tell her because Love potions of any kind are banned at Hogwarts and she'll just insist it's a bad idea. Now all you had to do was figure out how to actually make a love potion. Professor Slughorn has made one at the beginning of the year but you weren't actually taught how to make one nor do you actually remember much about class that day. Once you figured out how you could collect the ingredients and then trick Ron into drinking it. It shouldn't be too complicated.

Every free period following is spent huddled in the back of the library, searching through what felt like a mountains of books on potions.  A good portion of what you read is just the history behind the potion itself and the dangers. It wasn't a potion that would cause him any harm so there was no need to worry. Eventually, you manage to create a checklist of ingredients that consisted of;

Ashwinder eggs

Rose thorns

Peppermint

Powdered Moonstone

Pearl Dust

Rose Petals

This joke was beginning to feel like more effort than it was worth but you were determined to see this through. Ron would never see this coming. After returning all your books to the shelves, you figure getting some help from Harry is the next step. The only place to get all the ingredients was from the potions classroom or the supply room. You couldn't just walk in and take stuff without seeming a little suspicious; you also weren't exactly Slughorn's favourite student. Everyone knew it was Harry. So your final option was to sneak around.

"Harry- wait up," You run up beside him as g walks through the courtyard. Rather surprised to find him alone considering your next class was with him and Ron.

"Hey,"

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Depends," He shrugs. You offer him a very gentle smile, fluttering your eyelashes a little. He wasn't exactly the type to say no to you but better safe than sorry.

"Can I borrow your invisibility cloak? I promise I'll return it tomorrow."

"What for?" Your stomach sinks a little at his question. You can't risk telling him in case he tells Ron which will ruin the surprise.

"I need some ingredients for a potion and I don't really feel like asking for permission," Telling half a truth is much easier than coming up with an entirely new lie. "Please? How many times have I broken the rules for you now and I would do it again."

"Professor Slughorn probably wouldn't mind if you just asked. What are you making anyway?"

"I just wanna do some late-night practice. I'm more of a do what I want then ask for forgiveness later kinda person so can I? Please?" Emphasis on the 'please' in hopes that it will somehow help your case.

"Sure,"

"Thank you," Looping your arm with his, you begin to practically drag the poor boy through the courtyard. You couldn't be late for class again. Snape would take any excuse to punish you. "let's get to class before we both end up in detention."

Thanks to Harry's cloak, you manage to collect every ingredient needed for your forbidden love potion and get to work. You wouldn't say potion making was your worst subject but it's definitely not your best either and it was showing. After a few attempts by candlelight in the early hours of the morning, you finally manage to create a love potion. Normally you'd test a potion before recklessly using it on unsuspecting friends but there was no time or way to do that without them catching on. The last step was simple, deliver all kinds of spiked candy to Ron Weasley and pretend like everything was normal.

Sitting in the great hall, you slowly lift spoonfuls of cereal into your mouth as you listen to Neville drone on about his dream; at least that's what you hope he's talking about. Last night had wiped you out; your body was exhausted. You could just about keep your eyes open and all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Hermione was sat directly across from you, very delicately buttering a piece of wholemeal toast.

"I don't think it means anything, you're just thinking too much into," Hermione explains to Neville. You just shrug your shoulders; you hadn't really been paying attention anyway but you manage to perk up a little as Harry plops down beside you.

"What time do you call this Potter?" You scold, bumping your shoulder playfully against his.

"And where's Ron?" Hermione continues.

"He should be here soon enough. He's just taking extra care getting ready."

"Why?"

"He's trying to impress someone," Harry reaches for a bowl of fresh fruit.

"Oh do tell," An aura of giddiness envelops your words as if you don't expect the answer to be yourself. There was a chance he hasn't taken the bait yet and he just genuinely had a crush.

"I promised I wouldn't,"

"Come on, Harry. We won't tell."

"He's never mentioned liking anyone before," Hermione adds to the conversation, biting into her toast with a crunch.

"I don't know- ask him." As if summoned on cue, The redhead appears beside Hermione. He doesn't seem any different other than the smile and distant look in his eyes. Not to mention, he may have combed his hair? You couldn't be sure though.

"Did you sleep in again," She pauses for a second, her brows knitting together in a frown. "And is that... cologne I smell?"

Ron doesn't answer, he just looks at you with the expression of someone hopelessly entranced. It's a little weird but you take it as a compliment on your potion-making skills. "You alright there Ron?"

"Perfectly fine," He nods.

"Are you gonna eat something? We have class soon?"

"I'm not hungry,"

"Not hungry?" The volume of Hermione's voice catches you off guard. "When have you ever not been hungry, Ronald?"

"First time for everything Hermione," You take a sip of your water. All eyes were on Ron but he couldn't tear his away from you; that dopey grin never quite fading away. Was this how it was supposed to work? You had never seen it in action before. "I'll see you all at lunch " You announce, rising from the table. "I forgot my quill again this morning and I can't keep pretending I remember the stuff I'm being taught."

"How many classes do you have today?" Harry calls out before you can leave. You'd think he'd know your schedule by now. "I was thinking we could practice some potions later?"

"She has two," Hermione answers for you.

"Today pretty quiet for me usually but I have a study session later with Luna. She's helping me in care of magical creatures sorry," You flash a tight smile. "Maybe next time."

You had one class this morning and then one straight after lunch. Your free periods were supposed to be spent studying considering you were taking five N.E.W.T classes but you've never been one to study when you don't have to. Thinking on it, you probably could have studied with Harry in your free period before lunch but you think he has class then. The morning class is over before you know it and you're heading back to your dorm for a well-deserved nap when you practically crash into a none other than a Weasley.

"Watch where you're going, Ron."

His expression immediately brightens and he stands a little taller. "Oh, it's you, hey."

"Hello," Ron was a pretty awkward guy on the best of days but this felt weirder. A small, awkward smile settles on your lips. "Don't you have a class right now?"

"Mhmm," He nods but doesn't move nor continue talking.

"Ooookay then, well... I'm gonna go." You slide by him and scamper away. "I'll see you in a little bit."

When you imagined him under the influence of a love potion you expected less creepy staring but maybe he was just working his way up to it.

After a very short nap, that kept getting interrupted you're sat in the great hall waiting for classes to end and lunch to officially begin. There were a decent amount of students, all doing their own thing. Meanwhile the Gryffindor table was practically empty other than Dean, who was sat at an angle on the other side of the table and a couple of seventh years. You'd gotten so bored while pretending to study that Dean had suggested playing a game; this is the third match to decide who comes out on top as the Hangman champion of this free period. Three letters in and none of them had been right. The wooden frame was already drawn and waiting for the stickman to be hung

"S?" You guess.

His head shakes as he draws a wonky circle to start the stickman's fate. "Sorry."

"... I maybe?"

"Finally you got one.," it was a ten letter word and he filled in the second and eighth letters With I's.

"Can you give me like a hint?"

"I'm not gonna help you beat me," Dean replies. "Hey, Harry,"

"Harry!" You greet brightly, turning to find him towering over you. "We're playing hangman, do you wanna join? I'm about to win."

"No, you're not-"

"Did you do something to Ron?" Harry cuts of Dean. You swallow hard. Busted... or maybe not. Your brow furrows as you focus on the curled edge of the parchment you had been playing on.

"What are you talking about? I haven't done anything, I've been with Dean for like the last hour."

"He just seems very interested in you all of a sudden. I thought it was a one-time thing this morning but I've had to suffer through two classes of him talking about how cute and dreamy you are."

"Ron has a crush on her?" Dean's tone was rather playful.

"Maybe he just realised how cool I am," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "H?"

"Where is Ron anyway?" Dean adds the letter H to the begging of the word. You still have no clue what the word is but thankfully your two other friends finally appear just in time to interrupt. You'd rather draw by forfeit then lose altogether. Ron nearly shoves Hermione out of the way just to sit down next to you.

"I missed you this morning,"

"Missed you too Ron," You pat him twice on the cheek.

"What did you do to him?" Hermione's eyes narrow in on you.

"Who?"

"Ron obviously," She huffs. "I bumped into in the hallway and he said he couldn't wait to see you."

"As his friend, I'm happy he's excited to see me," You counter, resting your head on his shoulder. "At least someone at this table appreciates how cool I am."

"You're awesome," Ron wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight side-hug "I think I may be in love,"

Dean giggles to himself but Hermione is anything but amused. "For goodness sake,  you can't be serious?"

"I'm very serious," He fights back, sounding almost offended but such an accusation. "In fact," a wave of regret washes over you as Ron gets up and climbs onto the bench in front of the now rather busy great hall. "I'm in love with-" you sink down as he shouts your name for everyone to hear. Mean snickers and playful giggles follow. You reach for his hand, tugging on his arm gently as to not hurt him.

"Sit down," you spit through gritted teeth. Heat rushing to your cheeks as if him announcing his love to everyone wasn't embarrassing enough already

You try to enjoy lunch as much as possible with Ron attached to your side. Hermione was relatively quiet but her harsh glare was enough to put you off starting anything with her. And so you mostly spoke to Harry and finished your game with Dean. The word was Hippogriff which you managed to guess before the final leg finished off the stickman. Thankfully, your next class provided a nice escape from Ron. However it couldn't stop the sly comments in the hallways and mean laughter. This joke was very quickly becoming anything but funny.

This continued into the next day, you were regretting spiking so much candy. Not to mention Hermione hadn't spoken to you since lunch yesterday and you couldn't figure out why exactly. Normally she gets a little annoyed at your silly jokes with Ron but she seemed really mad at you. And considering you share a dorm room, things were feeling very tense, to say the least.

Managing to slip away from Ron long enough for a quick conversation, you find your fellow Gryffindor sat alone having an early breakfast. "I said I wouldn't help you,"

"Huh?" You hadn't even asked her anything yet or sat down for that matter but at least she's talking to you again.

"You want my help right?" She meets your gaze as you take a seat. "What did you do?"

"I actually wanted to know what was wrong?" Which was very much true. "You seemed... upset yesterday. I don't like it when you're mad at me."

"Judging by the way he was all over you yesterday my guess is It was a love potion correct?" you're impressed that she managed to guess and so quickly too. "A strong one at that. That is the only way to explain him suddenly being in love with you."

"I'm offended that you don't think Ron could like me that way," The words came a little more defensively than intended. "am I really that bad?"

Hermione's face morphs through a sea of emotions finally settling on looking a little disheartened. You wonder what's going on in her pretty little head. "It's not that I don't think he could like you that way- maybe he does and that would be fine. You're..." She seems hesitant to continue, her head falling. "amazing. Just that's not what this is."

"You're right," You confirm, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice. "Like always. I slipped him a love potion thinking it would be funny and now it's not."

"How can you be so reckless," Compared she seemed so delicate just moments ago, she quickly bounces back to scold you. "You know they're not allowed at school."

"Worth it," A small chuckle bubbles up from your throat. It had been a little funny and definitely embarrassing plus you got to test your skills so you weren't inherently regretting your decision. You just wish the effects would fade already. "I didn't learn the antidote and I'm not spending hours in the library again."

"It'll wear off soon enough, how much did you give him."

"I made like... a cauldron full but I don't know how much he consumed."

"So it's my understanding that you idiotically gave him a lot?"

Words mumbled by your juice, you nod to convey your answer.

"Then it'll take a while to wear off."

Ron slides up beside you, taking you by surprise. The juice comes back up in sputtering coughs. "Speak— of— the devil."

"Good morning my beautiful angel," Even you cringe at that one. Harry takes a seat on your left side. "Did you sleep well?"

"You should know, you were watching me this morning," Ron pulls you closer to him. When you awoke this morning, not only was Hermione already gone but it had been quite the surprise to find Ron had snook into the girl's dorms to be with you.

"You're so adorable when you're sleeping."

"If you'll excuse me, I can only handle so much nauseating sweetness," Hermione takes one sympathetic look at you and then scurries away like she can't handle being here any longer. Something was definitely off with her. Today was gonna be a long day...

How you longed for the weekend to come early as each class tortured you with new knowledge that had to be burnt into your brain. It didn't help that Ron was getting increasingly annoying; it was like he was incapable of being alone. After the school day finally ended, you retired to the common room; both the boys joined you. Harry was complaining about how much work he's been assigned from one class while Ron seemed happy to just be near you in any compacity. Which right now meant having his arm around you.

"Here," Hermione interrupts, dropping a plugged vial onto your lap.

"What is it?"

"An antidote." She was biting back an insult or an 'I told you so', you couldn't be sure but there was a hint of aggression behind her words.

"Drink this," Before you even have time to process, Harry is shoving the vial towards Ron.

"What is it?"

"I think you should try it," Ron doesn't even question the request when it comes from you. He takes the vial and downs it in one.  An unsure look is shared between you and Hermione but sure enough, Ron's goofy grin begins to fade.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

"I slipped you a love potion and you became obsessed with me." You answer. "It was funny at first but then you announced you were In love with me to the whole school."

"You think a love potion is the same as a comb that changes your hair?" The boy sank into the seat cushion, finally removing his arm from around your shoulders. "I don’t feel so good."

"He needs something to perk him up," Hermione states. If she knew that, she should have come prepared.

"He has candy hidden in his draws"

"Yeah... it's probably best if he gets rid of all that," You admit, getting up. "Wait here,"

It was only fair you provided something so you grab the last chocolate bar you had from your dorm room. "You shouldn't have messed with my hair." You declare, handing over the chocolate with an almost sad smile.

"Now you two can hopefully put this silly war to bed."

"Not likely," Your voice syncs with Ron's, and with it comes a genuine smile. It was nice he was back to normal.

"I have to get back at her."

"And how will you do that Weasley?" You drop back down next to him.

"I think I'll go back to the good old fashioned permanent marker while you sleep."

"Why would you tell me in advance?"

"Because you don't know when I'm gonna do it." He declares with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So now you'll be on edge waiting for it to happen."

In this situation, the equivalent to snitching to a teacher to prevent something from happening was to tell the only one opposed to this whole situation entirely. "Hermione tell him. You had no problem insisting I be the bigger person."

She simply rolls her eyes before turning to Weasley. "Ronald, Consider not retaliating especially with a permanent marker before one of you," she glances towards you; rightful so. "Goes too far."

"she started it," He protests, "I didn't sip her a love potion."

"You better not come anywhere near me with marker pens."

"Sometimes I think I'm talking to myself." And with that, she wonders off

"I'm watching you, Weasley," Now, you were going to have to keep a very close eye on him to assure you didn't wake up with a fake mustache or something. Jumping up you chase after Hermione.

"Thanks for helping." You fall into step with her. "I'd be lost without you."

"I know,"

"Wow. Modest." You mumble sarcastically before falling silent; unsure of how to approach the next question. "Do you like Ron by any chance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you like Ron?" You repeat. It was the only explanation you could come up with over why she would be so angry the last couple of days. "You seemed really upset since he's been all over me so I thought maybe it was like jealousy or something."

"Don't be ridiculous," She fires back. "I don't like Ron."

"I never imagined you two together but I think you'd be sweet," You comment, intentionally trying to get a rise out of her. Hermione sighs loudly as she comes to a stop.

"Ron is one of my best friends but I don't like him in that way," From a few steps away, you turn back to her. She's clutching a few books tightly against her chest, refusing to look at you. "I swear that I don't."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," She shrugs pathetically. "I just saw him all over you and I didn't like it. You're never normally like that together and he kept pushing me aside to get to you."

"I'm not following," You're honestly more confused than before.

She approaches you slowly, still unable to meet your gaze but her lips very softly connect with your cheek. "I promise I won't let him draw on your face with permanent marker."

Her words spark a lightbulb. You've never done a double prank but perhaps now would be a good chance. You could do it to him before he gets the chance to do it to you.

"Hmmm... So can I draw on his face with washable markers?"

With a heavy sigh, she simply states her favourite word "No!"

"But-"

"No." Hermione continues walking and you're left watching her.

"Hey," You call out. "Do you wanna head down to Hogsmeade tomorrow? I'll buy you a butterbeer to say thank you."

"You just want to visit the joke shop, don't you?"

"Desperately," She always could see right through you. "But still. I want to go- just you and me."

"I would like that," She finally meets your gaze and she looks happier now. The almost set sun, casting her in such a warm, welcoming glow. Hermione was a hard girl to figure out but that's what made her so interesting. "I was hoping to get a new quill anyway."

[bakamoonshine]

Sugar and Smoke

Summary: You think George slips you a love potion.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Slight swearing, mentions of sex, mostly just fluff

A/N: Hi guys! I have written another Georgie fic for you. I’m a little unsure as to how well I did on this one, but here’s hoping! Leave me a request if you want!

           “Good afternoon, class,” Snape drawls, looking at us with disdain. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his open hatred towards his students. “Today we will be learning about Amortentia. Can anybody tell me what this potion is?” Snape scans the room, studiously avoiding Hermione’s gaze as her hand shoots up in the air. “Potter, how about you?” he sneers.

           Harry, although unsurprised by the professor’s choice, noticeably has no idea what the potion does. “I dunno, Professor,” he says coldly, staring Snape straight in the eyes while he speaks.

           “Well, clearly fame isn’t everything. You cannot pass your O.W.L.s with fame Potter. 10 points from Gryffindor,” Snape scoffs, very obviously pleased with himself for already finding a reason to deduct points from his least favourite house. You sigh as you rest your head on your hand, waiting for Snape to actually tell you what the potion is for. “Amortentia” he drones on “is the strongest love potion in the world.” As all the girls in the room, apart from you and Hermione, look intently at Snape, willing him silently to continue his explanation, Snape goes on “It does not create actual love, but a deep infatuation with whoever slips you the potion. If you smell Amortentia, it is said to smell like whatever attracts you.” The girls who were hanging on his every word look slightly disappointed, although not like their plans have been entirely dashed. I give Hermione a worried look and we both stifle a giggle at the thought of all of the boys at Hogwarts obsessing over random girls.

           At the thought, you fall into a daydream, knowing instantly who you would slip a love potion if you had to choose. George Weasley. Your friend Ron’s older brother, he was completely unobtainable as he saw you like a little sister. You’re snapped out of your fantasy as Snape drops a book on your desk, startling you and making you realize that you were the only person not gathered around Snape’s work bench. Everybody is taking turns smelling the potion.  You rush over to stand beside Hermione, thinking along the way ‘wait, why was I just fantasizing about George? Ew. Unsure of what you’ll smell, you sniff the cauldron - something sugary, and smoke. You finish smelling the potion and immediately turn away to gather your supplies and meet Hermione at your work bench.

           “What did you smell?” You ask the wild haired witch. She blushes in response.

           “New parchment, freshly mown grass, and spearmint toothpaste.” You give her a questioning look. She looks up at you innocently and whispers “Ron.” You gasp with delight at her confession, glad she trusted you with this information. “What about you?” She smirks, evidently fascinated by the thought of you.

           “Sugar and smoke.” Hermione looks surprised. “What?” you look at your friend with slight panic in your eyes. “Who did I smell?”

“George.”

You groan “That’s not possible, ‘Mione. There have to be other cute guys here that smell like sugar and smoke…” Hermione gives you a grin.

           “What, you mean like Fred?” she teased, talking about George’s identical twin. You choke at the words, knowing it’s a joke but feeling grossed out, nonetheless. You loved being around Fred, but you didn’t like him like that. Fred was more like a big brother.

           “Hermione that would be like having sex with a step-brother. Not blood related, but still gross,” you laughed as Hermione stuck her tongue out in disgust. After that, you both got down to work. Together, you somehow managed to make a perfect Amortentia potion. Looking down at the mother-of-pearl sheen in your shared cauldron, both you and Hermione stiffened slightly when Snape approached you.

           “Acceptable,” he muttered disappointedly as he took a sample of your potion, obviously hoping for another reason to dock points from Gryffindor. He dismisses the pair of you with a wave of his hand, and you both pack up quickly.

           You turn to Hermione, a thought suddenly dawning on you. “’Mione, what if George slipped me a love potion?”

           Hermione shrugs. “I suppose it’s possible. Maybe you should ask him about it?”

           “I will. In fact, I’m going to right now.” You say, huffing slightly angrily. Hermione looks uneasy at the thought, reaching her hand out to grab you, but you were already marching ahead towards the Great Hall for lunch. While making your way down the corridor, you think to yourself ‘I can’t believe that git would slip me a love potion! He’s not going to know what hit him when I get a hold of him.’ As soon as you arrive in the Great Hall, you scan the people in the room, looking for a particular redhead.  You spot him halfway down the giant room and start walking towards him determinedly. “George Weasley!” you howl, breathing in his scent and getting more upset by the second. You really didn’t like the idea of someone slipping something into your drink without you knowing. George turns around, caught off guard by the anger in your voice.

           “Dearest Y/N, what’s got your knickers in a knot?” He asks, teasingly.

           “Oh you know exactly what I’m upset about” you say, stabbing your pointer finger into his chest roughly. “You must’ve thought you were so slick, slipping it into my potion. But I caught on, and-” I stop when George still looks confused.

           “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

           From down the table, Harry yells “We learned about love potions with Snape today. Maybe that’s what she’s talking about!” I lay my hand out towards Harry in a gesture of acknowledgement and thanks for explaining the situation for me. George snickers loudly.

           “What’s so funny?” I demand, getting even more upset by his reaction.

           He looks me dead in the eyes and says “I hate to break it to you Y/N, but I never put a love potion in your drink. Twin’s honor,” he says, grinning and holding up one hand and placing the other over his heart. I look at him with confusion for a second before the realization strikes me. He knows when I understand because I turn bright pink.

           “I’m going to go,” I say quickly, turning on the spot and walking as fast as possible out of the Great Hall, sure that almost everybody heard that conversation. As I’m about to walk up the stairs, a large hand wraps gently around my wrist. I look back and see George standing there, his eyes looking at me with some desperation and his cheeks rosy.

           “Y/N you must know that I’ve loved you since the day we met.” I look at him with shock, my eyes practically bugging out of my head. He shakes his head and laughs, looking nervously down at his feet. “I thought you knew. I haven’t exactly been subtle about it.” He looks at me and tucks some of my hair behind my ear. My face heats up and I breathe in his scent once more – sugar and smoke. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I see how close we are, and realize I was being ridiculous. ‘Of course, I like George’ I think to myself. ‘It’s always been him.’ I take a step closer to him, putting my hand on his chest and looking up at him. I hear him suck in a small breath, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

           “Is this okay?” I whisper. George shakes his head no. I start to pull my hand away, embarrassed once again, but he snatches it back.

           “No, it’s not okay, because you’re still not close enough to me,” he says, cupping my face and running his thumb gently along my jaw, tipping my chin up towards him. He repeats my own words back to me, “Is this okay?” I nod slowly, scared to move in case this is a dream. His head dips down and he inches toward me, painfully slow. After a few moments I can’t take it anymore – I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and yank him down towards me, closing the gap between us as our lips crash together. He groans, putting his hands behind my legs and lifting me up to wrap them around his waist. He makes his way towards the common room, wanting to be in private together. When he makes it to the portrait hole, he kisses me while also trying to tell the Fat Lady the password. I laugh and detach our lips.

           “Baubles” I direct at the Fat Lady. As the portrait swings open, I look back at George and laugh even harder. “Why did I even think you slipped me a love potion?”

“Must be my animal attraction” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and laughing at himself. I smack his chest in mock shock, laughing along with him before I reach up and pull his face down to me again for another kiss, feeling him smile against me.

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Transfer Student

Pairing: Sirius x reader (Ilvermorny transfer)

Request: hello, wanted to say i really enjoy your writing!! can i request a sirius blac x ilvermorny transfer student!reader in the marauder's era? a kind of enemies to lovers type fic where the reader's new and sorted into slytherin and is already getting a lot of attention and popularity for being american and outgoing but sirius doesn't get the hype lmao so he teases about her accent and other american things and she bickers back but deep down they're just fighting bc they like each other. thank you!

A/N: Thank you! And thanks for the request! I hope you like it, sorry if it seems a little short or not developed fully. Just a note about requests, as it stands I think I have seven to do, but they’re all Sirius x reader so I think I’ll space them out a little for the sake of being able to write about someone else too. I’m dying to write some James, Charlie and Newt.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: None!!

 She approached the castle with apprehension. Transferring schools was never easy, but especially not so when she had also moved continents and had no friends to speak of. Her parents had moved to Britain from America for their work, and although they didn’t want to pull her out of her old school, Ilvermorny, but knew they had no choice but to make the move and take her with them. She walked up the steps and into a large entrance hall, which was mainly empty, other than the odd student, and a woman stood with a velvet green cloak and a pointy hat.

“Miss (y/l/n).” She greeted the girl, extending her hand which was shaken hastily. “My name is Professor McGonagall, I’m deputy headmistress here at Hogwarts and the Head of Gryffindor House.” She explained, waving her wand as (y/n)’s trunk floated up next to her, as the professor gestured to be followed. “I usually oversee the sorting ceremony at the start of each year for the first years, and so I will be escorting you to Professor Dumbledore’s office so we can sort you into a house now.” The young witch nodded, only half paying attention to the words being spoken to her, trying to familiarise herself with the castle and push away the anxiety that was rising in her chest. They stopped in front of a stone gargoyle, which promptly spun around to reveal a spiral staircase once McGonagall had whispered the password. As they stepped onto the stairs and began to move towards the office, (y/n) steeled herself, ready to face her new future.

 A few weeks had passed since her arrival, and (y/n) (y/l/n) was settling in as well as she could at Hogwarts. The sorting hat had sorted her into Slytherin house, and the girls in her dormitory were kind and more than happy to include her in their activities, as well as helping her to catch up on what they had been learning in their classes. Being an American transfer, she seemed like the shiny new toy of the school – it had taken a while for the whispers and the stares to die down as she walked through the corridors in the first week. Now, though, most people were treating her normally, they had gotten used to her accent, mostly, and they realised she was just as normal as everyone else. Most people, because a certain Sirius Black was definitely not used to her yet, and took every opportunity he could to tease her.

 “Hey America!” He shouted at her as she walked through the entrance hall. “Come on, let us hear that pretty accent of yours.” He pleaded – from the moment she had first opened her mouth he had found delight in mocking her accent, in pulling apart the different words she used or the way she would pronounce certain words differently.

 Refusing to give into his antics, feeling a flash of anger through her chest, wishing she knew why he refused to accept her, her only response to the raven haired boy with the stormy grey eyes was to flip him off, smiling triumphantly to herself a little as his friends laughed behind her at his failed attempt.

 Sirius’ attention refused to waver as the school year continued, but realising that he could never catch your attention for long with his snide remarks (“Obviously she’s not going to give you the time of day with the way you speak to her.” Had been James’ remark, complete with a roll of his eyes), he had turned instead to light hearted teasing and flirting, although most of the time this descended into bickering.

 Although she wouldn’t admit it, and she more than happy to complain about his antics, secretly she adored the attention he would give her. She knew his reputation, that hadn’t been a hard piece of gossip to pick up on, she knew that his attention on a girl never lasted more than a few days. Except for her. His attention had expanded further than the classroom too, now when she was studying alone in the library, he always seemed to ‘accidentally’ stumble upon her, sitting next to her and making joking remarks the whole time, which she was happy to retort. These hours in his company made her understand him much more, and rarely, in between the teasing and the bickering, they would have a real conversation, about their families, friends, lives. When he wasn’t there, she had started to strain her eyes looking for him, hoping that he would come and bother her again. She had realised too late that she had started falling for Sirius Black.

 She was in the library again, it was a free period and she couldn’t study very well in her dim common room. She was studying a transfiguration textbook very closely, trying to complete the essay McGonagall had set them the day before, when she heard the scraping of chair legs beside her, and smiled slightly, knowing who had approached her.

 “Do they not teach you in Slytherin that you won’t need to know this stuff once you’ve joined the dark side?” He whispered, pointing to the essay she had been working on as she huffed and rolled her eyes. Picking on her about being in Slytherin  was one of his favourite things to do, but (y/n) knew enough of his story to understand why, which helped lessen her anger to mild irritation at his words.

 “I’m ambitious, Sirius, not evil. I know what I want and I’ll work hard to make sure I get it.” She whispered back, pulling the parchment closer towards her and carrying on writing. “You know full well I don’t agree with blood purity and all that nonsense. Talent is talent, take it where you can get it.” She responded, looking up at his eyes which she was surprised to see already looking at her, with what she thought was a hint of… pride? Satisfaction? She searched his grey orbs with her own, trying to see what they held and getting slightly lost in the process.

“Found a new appreciation for pretty faces?” He asked, snapping her out of it as she turned away from him with a scoff, letting her hair fall over her shoulder to hide the embarrassment at being caught.

 “Oh, is James here?” She asked without too much thought, knowing that teasing him about his best friend was bound to strike a nerve. She was right, he huffed and crossed his arms in front of him. She was able to work in silence for a few more minutes, until he piped up again.

 “Why do you argue with me so much?” He asked. She turned to look at him, incredulous at his words.

 “Why do I argue with you?” she asked, shaking her head very slightly in disbelief. “You’re the one who’s been picking on me since the day I got here.”

 “But I stopped that, I tried to be nice to you!” He argued back, the both of them standing up by this point, her essay long forgotten on the table.

 “By teasing me incessantly and bickering?” She countered.

 “If it meant actually getting you to talk to me, yes!” By this point, they were stood chest to chest, both staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Before either one of them knew what was happening, his hands were cupping her cheeks and her lips were on his, hands in his hair and the both of them channelling everything they had been trying but couldn’t say into the kiss, one that was so full of emotion it was overwhelming. They broke away abruptly when Madame Pince caught them and shouted at them, causing them both to laugh as they looked up at each other again, happy that they had finally embraced their feelings for each other.

[smarti-at-smogwarts]

Theo Abbott Profile

Identity

Name: Theodosia -Theo- Jane Abott

Gender: ....-throws peruvian powder bomb-  gender neutral tho she doesn't have the label for it.

*She goes by she/her pronouns though

Age: varies depending on when I’m writing her. 

Birth Date: January 11th XXXX

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood.

Sexuality: Queer af. Bisexual. Arospec. 

Alignment: Chaotic Good. 

Ethnicity: Mixed. 

Nationality: English

Residence: Godrics Hollow. Abbott home. 

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ENFP-T [ Turbulent Campaigner ] 

The Mage

Wand: Ebony. Dragon heartstring. 13 inches. Quite Flexible.

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Animagus: Pine Marten

Misc Magical Abilities: Unknown undecided magical ability. ( will be edited when I figure what i want her hphl ability to be) Animagus. 

Boggart Form: Theo is terrified of being forced to be something she’s not or being trapped. This shows itself by a square room with no windows popping up in front of her. The walls the start closing in on her. 

Riddikulus Form: The walls collapse like the sides of a carboard box. 

Amortentia ( what she smells like) :  Parchment and ink. Crisp night air. Cinnamon cloves Pine trees.

Amortentia ( what she smells) : Misc smells that represent different people from the Taghd Lynch Defense Squad/her closest friends. Firewood burning. Lemon cakes. Fresh cut grass ( from the quidtich pitch) 

Patronus Memory: She’s at the Hogwarts common room goofing around with her housemates and friends. Basically her realizing she’s found a place to be herself and accepted as she is.

Mirror of Erised: Her happy and content and herself in her own home with her writing and her cat and her friends and the fuck away from Godric’s Hollow. 

Specialized/Favourite Spells: 

At Hogwarts_ Anything you can use on a prank. Some defensive spells as while Hogwarts was fairly accepting of her she did get a bit hassled ( there’s always that one occasional asshole) about both being a girl in the quidditch team and how she chooses to dress out of uniform. Some offensive spells from when she got into fights/duels in the halls along Taghd and Teddy. Her best spells are the ones used to sneak around her mother and grandmother. 

Out Of Hogwarts_ While not a spell, apparition becomes her most used magical feat as she likes to visit her friends as they all settle into her adult lives. She also learns a bit of healing spells from either Adelia or Teddy ( and at both their insistence that if she’s going to be getting into trouble out there she should be able to patch herself up a bit. ) 

*In the Taghd Dies Verse where she becomes an auror she adds a lot of offensive spells to her arsenal “best defense is a good offense right?” Theo no.

Appearance

Faceclaim: Saoirce Ronan 

Game Appearance: N/A 

Height: 5′6′’ by year 7.

Weight: Average weight for her height. 

Physique: On the thin side. Somewhere between rectangle and hourglass boy shape wise. Has muscle on her due to Quiditch. Strong facial features.

Eye Colour: Light blue 

Hair Colour: Dirty Blonde as a child. Darkens with age.  Often untidy from running or flying and held up/back.

Skin Tone: Fair

Body Modifications: None

Scarring:  Has a set of diagonal scars on her leg from when she tried to play with a splintered bat during a quidditch match. A few random scars from scrapes from school that got a little too rough before being broken up. 

Inventory: parchment. Quill. Ink. A Claddagh ring from Taghd. Random and assorted books. Notes from her friends. Her wand. Hair pins. ( she keep forgetting she has them there so she just stuffs more in her bag. No one knows how many she has in there by now, not even her)

Fashion: https://www.pinterest.com/xhowling/theo-jane-abbott/#fashion

*Theo tends to prefer Hogwarts robes and wizard fashion in general more as they’re more gender neutral. ( as in both genders wear robes though they differ in style and in Hogwarts case they do not differ at all from one gender to the other) so she wears them more.

 When it comes to muggle clothing she’s most comfortable on cable knit sweaters and plaid ( though she favors the former a lot more)  because she used to steal Taghd’s though if she has to “dress up” she’ll wear more  masc fashion. She’s influenced by Teddy’s fashion sense a bit for that. She also wears her Gryffindor tie even after leaving Hogwarts but with dress robes/a shirt and vest instead.

She tends to prefer more muted colors with like accents of one color or one point of color (i know nothing about fashion please bear with me. Hopefully the pinterest helps)

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor. 

Ilvermorny House: N/A 

Affiliations/Organizations: Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Taghd Lynch Protection Squad. Gryffindor house. 

Professions: Student. Writer/Anthologist. Becomes an auror in the Taghd Dies Verse.

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy:   ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆

Charms:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆

DADA:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆

Flying:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Herbology:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆☆

History of Magic:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆

Potions:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★☆☆☆☆☆☆

Transfiguration:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆☆☆☆

Electives:

Apparition

Muggle Studies 

Study of Ancient Runes

Quidditch: Plays as Chaser and Beater reserve. 

Extra Curricular: Does writing count?

Favourite Professors: I think she’d like both  Atticus Irwin Grimsley ( @cursebreakerfarrier ) and Toby Moore ( @unfortunate-arrow ) 

*Will probably add teachers as more details of the games are release

Least Favourite Professors: Pretty much any teachers that have issues with how she dresses or are of the snobby pureblood category are a safe bet. 

*Will probably add teachers as more details of the games are release

Relationships

Misc Siblings: None. Theo is an only child. 

Father: Unknown atm. All Theo knows is he was a muggleborn wizard.

Mother: Emily Abbott 

Love Interest: N/A  

*arospec but might have fwb/flings as she figures things out and possibly a platonic life partner/partners in the future. Most likely will end up living with friends as family either way. ( the friends she lives with may even have spouses of their own just...a bunch of friends living in a house as family) 

Best Friends:  Taghd Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow ) Lu Morrison ( @rosievixen )  Arthur -Teddy- Elllsion ( @cursebreakerfarrier ) Adelia Selwyn ( @that-ravenpuff-witch)

Rival: She hates Cillian Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow) and Ernest Ellson ( @cursebreakerfarrier​) bc they are unkind to her boys/two of her closest friends. I can imagine they do not like her that much ( seeing as Theo’s about as secretive and sublte about not liking people as a wrecking ball through the wall) 

Enemy: tbd 

Dormmates: Lu Morrison ( @rosievixen) 3rd and 4rth room mates unknown atm. 

Pets: Theo adopts a niffler in the future once she’s out of Hogwarts. Her family has very strict rules about owning pets though at some point in Hogwarts she adopts a stray cat and somehow manages to keep it a secret even when/if she has to go back home for Holidays. 

Closest Canon Friends: tbd

Closest MC Friends:  Taghd Lynch ( @unfortunate-arrow ) Lu Morrison ( @rosievixen )  Arthur -Teddy- Elllsion ( @cursebreakerfarrier ) Adelia Selwyn ( @that-ravenpuff-witch ) Fred Morrigan ( @ljthebard1​) Gabriel Sapieha ( @lizzieparkerhphm ​) Danny Gibbson ( @catohphm ​ )

Background/History

Pre Hogwarts: Theo was an “indiscretion” born to Emily Abott and an unknown ( to most) muggleborn wizard. The family  kept her, fed her, made sure she knew the proper way for an Abott to act, but there was no affection to this and Theo sometimes wondered if it wasn’t only out of duty that her family did all this. After it becomes obvious that Theo who dresses in boy’s clothes, never keeps a comment inside her mind, and buckles against the propriety forced upon her more and more as the years pass is not going to be changing to fit what her family thinks she should be; it’s decided to send her to Hogwarts where she’ll at least be kept out of sight.

4th Year: Was sent to Hogwarts by her family to be kept out of sight and hopefully shape up ( with the added sentiment that if she does not, at the very least she’ll be out of sight) Met Taghd Lynch, Lu Morrison, Teddy Ellison and Adelia Selwyn. 

5th Year: tba

6th Year: tba

7th Year: tba. Graduates with her friends. Though she undoubtedly has to leave some behind as I can see her befriending underclassmen.

Out of school: At some point she moves back closer to Teddy either because she received the news that Taghd died or that Taghd almost died. ( depending on the “canon” or “Taghd Lives AU”)

At some point she might adopt a daughter who is as chaotic as she was and then some ( though much more open and less angry/defensive because Theo’s a better parent than her mother ) 

In the Universe where Tagdh dies she becomes an Auror alongside Teddy.

At some point she cuts her parents off Completely ( no letters, no firecalls, nothing absolutely nothing) whether this happens because they did something that just got to her too much or it was more a case of her getting away and going “wooow they’re actually horrible to me” remains to be seen but she’ll come to rely on her friends for moral support and also to figure out how to live on her own without their monetary support.  

Spoils her friends’ kids so so much ohmygosh she loves them.

Old Age & Death: tbd

Personality

 Temperamental and impulsive ‘’jump now, think later’’/’’it looked like a good idea at the time’’ sort of person. Disaster Bisexual. Gets angry quick but it fades just as quickly. Frank, warm, empathetic. Honest-sometimes too honest- The one in a friend group to try to make people laugh. Will encourage you to hex someone who hurts you ‘’hell I’ll help you/cover for you’’ (That Friend) the opposite of the common sense friend. ( ‘’sounds illegal, I’m in.’’ )

Theo’s general status is defensive which to her can often be loud and assertive ( and a bit abrasive though she’s usually sorry about that last one when it happens) due to insecurities that took root during her time with her mother and her family To wit, she believes she needs to defend the way she is subconsciously since it was often the case at home and this leaks into her personality. When she met all her friends her first setting was “im like this and Deal with it” expecting resistance but when she met none ( as her friends all accepted her for who she is) she became a lot less so. ( shes still loud and chaotic as that's also part of who she is but she’s a lot less defensive afterwards.)

Has a really loud laugh. When she’s goofing with her friends or talking to them and laughing with them you can hear it echo through the halls.

Is sort of...a loud person in general.

Theo’s a passionate individual and incredibly stubborn when she sets her mind to something.

Skips the sad/crying phase and goes straight to angry. Might or might not have “/don’t cry/show weakness” complex. Her other emotions however are expressed be they annoyance, happiness ( her laughter Echoes through the corridors when she’s happy about something) excitement ect ect ad infinitum.

Her poker face is  shit though. She couldn’t keep her opinions through herself if she tried. Her face will say them for her.

She’s fiercely fiercely protective of her friends and found family. ( see: “would happily hit Teddy’s dad with a blugger if she finds out about him being abusive  ‘’curses out ppl who say mean things to Adelia or Lu and half the time will wind up throwing down for it” and of course “I’m actually going to Kill Cillian” circa Taghd’s duel in the Taghd lives AU as examples)

Misc:

Theo’s animagus form is a Pine Marten. She learned it specifically so she could get out of the house which she often found overbearing due to her mother, grandmother, and aunts attitudes towards her.

While her family kept her, fed her and clothed her it was done out of combination of duty and not wanting to waste magical blood. They might have love for her but it’s very clearly overridden by ( if not outright contingent on) their need forTheo being the kind of child they think she ought to be which she is very much not and only grows to stray more and more from it as she grows up) 

Theo sometimes does suspect they did it more out of duty than any love but tries not to think about it deeply or think about them at all if she can help it ( and with an entire castle to explore with friends and mischief to manage with those same friends it becomes quite easy) 

She has a fascination for the muggle world because it was her father’s world and the part of her her family shuns and kept her from knowing about.

She’s often in trouble with either Taghd or Teddy ( or both) or Lu ( or all three) and the teachers might or might not have a running tally of which combination causes the most chaos. 

Theo learns Gaelic from Taghd-they start with the swear words and then she just really wants to learn the language. 

Whereas Taghd tends to complain about getting dragged into fights by Teddy and her but does it Theo’s more like you feel the air shift next to you and...yup. Yup she’s there.

If her friends are in a fight nine out ten times she’s there too. That one of ten times she’s not there, she’s going to be soon.

Theo’s a night owl and can often be found the last in the common room reading or writing or talking to Taghd or Teddy or Lu. Sometimes she’ll sneak out to fly. ( specially on really clear nights)

She’s perfected the art of wolfing down breakfast in the last minutes before going to class or even just grabbing a piece of bread and running off to class because of this. As it'll lead to her oversleeping.

Adelia’s her mom friend and possibly one of the few people that can tell her what to do without her going ‘how bout i do anyways.png’

She writes a lot and can be seen talking animatedly about it mostly to fellow writer friend Teddy Ellison. 

She’s bit Taghd’s brother Cillian in her animagus form at least once. It was the subject of laughter in the Gryffindor table for a good week after. Theo, ( who keeps her animagus form a secret aside from her closest friends because its a way she has to get away from people or hide or cause trouble when she wants to) becomes very interested in whatever’s in front of her  and trying not to laugh when it gets brought up. 

She gets really attached to Teddy’s mom ( and is a bit jealous of how nice a mother her friend has)  as she both from her experience and what she gathers from Tagdh and other friends of hers she didn’t...think parents could be nice? Like empirical evidence just overall does not seem to be in their favor tbh (specially mothers) and she’s mystified by her and overall thinks she’s wonderful.

This also means she dislikes Teddy’s dad that much more ( though she keeps it to herself around Teddy’s mother ) because as far as she’s concerned he doesn’t deserve her or Teddy with what some of  his actions are. 

Tends to be physical with her close friends ( bumping shoulders, linking arms as they walk hand on shoulder) though on different levels depending on the different dynamics and how comfortable they themselves are with it.

She hates all the propriety she was brought up with ( one of the bonding things she Taghd had was their shared lack of decorum) but one of the things she enjoyed to learn back in Godric Hollow was calligraphy. She stills practices it as a hobby, keeping multiple colors of ink in her room at Hogwarts and later in life. She likes making calligraphy for her friends and also when they’re adults makes calligraphy for each of their children with their favorite stories. 

Finally did a proper profile for Theo.

I’m hoping to get back to doing more content ( including other profiles for mcs I’ve mentioned and going back to my hphm kiddo Marti and writing out gameplay now that I have more spoons. Figured this was a good place to start.

Profile skeleton by @hogwartsmysterystory​

[tcnks]

WHO: Nymphadora Tonks, Rufus Scrimgeour, John Dawlish, Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt. WHERE: An interrogation room, The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Level Two, The Ministry of Magic. WHEN: 9.57AM, Thursday the 10th of April, 2003.

Tonks wished they could say that the morning of the Hearing had snuck up on them but there had been nothing sneaky about its approach. The heavy footsteps of its impending doom had been heard from days away, in light and disturbed sleep and their careful rehearsal of every precise letter of bullshit they would need to say if they wanted to return to their job from a perilously quiet and uncrowded flat. Kingsley had sent an owl, two days before, to inform them that a peer would be sitting in on the meeting with Scrimgeour and Madame Bones and that he had offered to take that place. It was a relief to think that there would be at least one friendly face at that table.

Two, bracing sips of a Calming Draught had been taken sparingly to prevent any bursts of temper or nerves and Tonks had made themself as presentable as they’d ever been, pressed and clean and official, their Aurors shield and Ministry ID tucked carefully into the pockets of their robes. Their hair had settled into a mousy brown today that even the calming draught and their best attempts couldn’t shift, but that was apparently the least of their problems today.

It was not a good omen, they supposed, when the elevators refused their work ID. Not was it a good omen that Edith, the ever-cheerful Welcome Witch, gave them a sympathetic grimace and patted their hand with a bracing, “Best of luck dearie,” when they’d had to circle back to obtain a visitor’s pass. By the time they reached Level Two, their professional fifteen minute buffer had been reduced to three and any hopes of a good impression were batted aside at the sight of Scrimgeour shaking hands with what looked like Rodolphus Lestrange up ahead before the man turned and went on his way.

“You’re late,” Scrimgeour announced as Tonks approached, his expression decidedly unphased for a man who’d just been shaking hands with the enemy as he waved them inside of the door he’d been waiting outside, “Come along then, Nymphadora, Madame Bones has a Wizengamot session to get to in an hour.”

The interrogation room was cramped, with the two extra chairs squeezed in, and their eyes jittered away from Madame Bones and her impressively impassive face in favour of gawking at Dawlish who was already seated. “Take a seat, Miss Tonks,” Madame Bones interrupted before they could ask why he was there, “Mr. Dawlish has been appointed to testify as one of your peers. Rufus, would you mind?”

Warily they crossed the room to drop into the unoccupied chair with the distinct impression they were being lured into a trap. “You know why you’re here?” Scrimgeour prompted as he set about settling himself in, flipping open a manila folder and squinting down at it.

“This is a disciplinary hearing,” Tonks replied carefully, eyes darting between the three faces seated opposite them and landing again, for a moment, on Dawlish who was the only one among them who couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. “You’re deciding on whether or not I can return to work.”

Dawlish’s face did something strange, like he was swallowing a laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s a foregone conclusion, Miss Tonks,” Scrimgeour replied impassively, eyebrows inching faintly upward as he looked up, for a hard moment, before he began to read aloud, a quill jumping delicately up onto it’s nib to begin transcribing along with his words, “Disciplinary hearing of the tenth of April, into offences committed in violation of the Auror’s Oath of Servitude and breach of the Ministry of Magic’s Confidentiality Clause amounting to acts of espionage and treason by Nymphadora Patagonia Teodora Black Tonks, resident at Flat Sixteen B, Diagon Alley, London. Interrogators present: Rufus Scrimgeour, Head Auror; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Auror John Dawlish is in attendance as a peer witness for the defendent."

For a prolonged moment they simply stared, blankly, as the words sunk in past the gentle layer of false calm the potion had provided before their mouth dropped open and they leaned in to ask, what, exactly, the fuck was going on, but Scrimgeour paid little attention to their internal monologue and instead asked bluntly, “How long have you been employed as an Auror with this department, Miss Tonks?”

“Eight — about Eight and a half years.”

“Eight years, eight months and 21 days,” he replied, finger drumming at the page before him before his sharp, curiously leonine eyes fixed back upon their face. “And you passed your classes at the Academy, with honours and glowing commendations from three of your instructors, without having to repeat a year?”

Tonks frowned, shifting uneasily in their seat as memories of their test on Counter-Interrogation Techniques, sprung to mind. “Yes.”

Madame Bones made a soft murmur of something that Tonks couldn’t hear, but didn’t dare to look directly at her. Every employee on Level Two knew that Amelia Bones was not a woman to be trifled with. “Did any of your instructors provide additional tutoring outside of their classes? Advice, perhaps.”

Their eyes narrowed further. “Nobody helped me.”

Scrimgeour’s smile sharpened and his voice was blunt as he asked, “What is the nature of your relationship with former Auror Alastor Moody?”

It was a swing so perplexingly from the left that they blinked, bewilderedly at him for a moment before replying, “He was my instructor at the Auror’s Academy.”

“And you became close, during this time?” he prompted, the scratch of the quill upon parchment drawing their eyes towards it as the surreal realisation that perhaps this was a bigger trap than they’d anticipated sunk over them. “He became a mentor of sorts.”

“Of sorts,” Scrimgeour repeated, smiling thinly, leaning in on his elbows like he’d seen something he wanted to pounce on. Tonks had heard a rumor, once, that Scrimgeour had been considered by the board of the Academy to teach a lecture series on Interrogation Techniques — he’d been passed over in favour of Moody. It had been a reoccurring theme in his career. “Did your mentor give you advice on your classes? Take meetings outside of office hours — perhaps at your parents home in Porthmeor?”

“He came by for dinner a few times,” Tonks replied uneasily.

“In the Summer of 1994, following your graduation from the Auror’s Academy, you remained in contact with your mentor Alastor Moody, did you not?”

“I did,” Tonks agreed, the sense that wherever this was leaded it wasn’t good sinking in.

“And during the Hogwarts school year of 1994, while Bartemius Crouch Junior had abducted and assumed the identity of Alastor Moody, using Polyjuice Potion, you attended the First Task of the Triwizards Tournament with the express intention of visiting Alastor Moody and expressed your doubts about his behaviour, to several members of the faculty. This suggests a level of intimacy that exceeds an appropriate relationship to one’s former instructor, does it not?”

“What is the question?” Tonks replied, the sharp edges beginning to bump up against the soothing layer of the Calming Draught beneath their skin becoming more apparent.

“Is it true, Miss Tonks, that prior to and increasingly since this incident, former Auror Alastor Moody has been referred to as Mad-Eye Moody, due to his dangerously erratic and paranoid behaviour?”

Tonks blinked twice, shifting in their seat as they replied, “You might be a little paranoid too, if someone kept you in a trunk for a year.”

“So you admit that in your acquaintance, rampant paranoia is an accurate description of former Auror Alastor Moody’s state of mind?” he persisted.

“I’ve been told every Auror should be a little paranoid. It’s part of the job,” Tonks replied, glancing between the faces before them as if one of them might clue them in on where exactly this was headed. 

Scrimgeour didn’t appear to acknoweldge that, as he forged on, like he’d gotten his teeth into something and was loath to part with it. “Since your first day of employment at this job, Miss Tonks, you have been engaged in an inappropriate relationship with a dangerously unhinged former member of this department. True or false?”

This was not the direction they’d expected this hearing to turn in. “False,” they replied sharply.

“Madame Bones,” Scrimgeour’s head turned towards the Head of Department who had yet to speak, “I have reason to believe Miss Tonks is lying in her testimony. May I request the use of Veritaserum to ensure that we may receive honest testimony from—”

“Denied,” Amelia replied without a bat of the eye, her sharp gaze fixed on Tonks. “Miss Tonks has not yet been accused of a crime. This is not yet a trial, Auror Scrimgeour. You may proceed.”

His expression had darkened considerably, but Scrimgeour turned his attention back to them with all of that intense focus that Tonks had once considered impressive. “In the past six months, Aurors have observed Alastor Moody entering your residence in the early hours of the morning no fewer than fifteen times. Do you deny it?”

“You’ve been tailing him?” Tonks replied, ignoring the odd sound that Dawlish made.

“Do you deny it?” Scrimgeour repeated.

“No,” they replied, deflating back into their seat as they realised with a grim sense of clarity precisely where this was going.

“Auror Dawlish,” her eyes jerked to the face of the man who they’d dreaded being partnered with, who’s incompetence was legendary within the department and realised that he, somehow, had some small part to play in the outcome of their future, “What is your assessment of the relationship between Miss Tonks and former Auror Alastor Moody?”

“He called her his favourite,” Dawlish replied perhaps too eagerly, as if the prospect of being a part of this farce was exciting for him, “I always thought that maybe she was fu—”

Madame Bones cleared her throat, loudly, and Scrimgeour’s smile sharpened a little further as he turned back to the task at hand. “And what is your assessment of former Auror Alastor Moody’s attitude towards the department at large?”

“He’s off his rocker, isn’t he?” Dawlish replied, looking pointedly away from Tonks and the daggers they were glaring in his direction, “Always showing up like he still works here and asking about what’s happening. We all feel a bit sorry for him after what happened with Barty Junior, but he’s always loitering around Tonks’ desk when he’s there. He doesn’t seem to realise he’s retired.”

“Thank you, Auror Dawlish,” Scrimgeour replied, lips curling just a little further. “Miss Tonks, in the past six months, Aurors have observed you entering the residence of Alastor Moody no fewer than twenty-two times. Do you deny it?”

“No,” Tonks replied, the skin at the back of their neck staring to grow hot and itchy beneath their hair.

There was a smugness to the gleam in Scrimgeour’s eyes as he continued, “During any of these numerous meetings between yourself and Alastor Moody, has privileged information regarding ongoing cases of investigation or internal Ministry affairs been passed on to or discussed with former Auror Alastor Moody, in breach of the Auror’s Oath of Servitude and the Ministry of Magic’s Confidentiality Clause, as agreed to in your binding contract of employment?” 

Tonks stared grimly back at him, their hands curling into the fabric of their neatly pressed dress robes and wrinkling up the fabric as they replied, “As a respected former Auror, I occasionally sought Moody’s advice on—”

A hand was raised to silence them and Tonks’ lips pressed together, the increasing feeling of the knives being shoved into their back not so much a feeling of impending doom they hadn’t been able to articulate and now a harsh reality. 

“Did you, in the course of these meetings, knowingly discuss or share with Alastor Moody any privileged information regarding ongoing cases of investigation or internal Ministry affairs in order to assist the extremist terrorist organisation known as the Order of the Phoenix?”

Their stomach plummeted, abruptly, fingers curling tighter into their dress robes beneath the table as they replied, “No. I don’t know what that—”

There was a flicker of something in Madame Bones’ face, just a twitch, that wasn’t there when Tonks’ glanced over at her. 

“Are you, Miss Tonks, engaging in criminal acts of espionage and treason against the Ministry of Magic on behalf of the extremist terrorist organisation known as the Order of the Phoenix?”

Their eyes met his with steely, unflinching resolve and lied, “No.”

Scrimgeour stared back, as if by simply staring hard enough their spine might crumble and the truth might come spilling out, but instead after a long moment he spoke again, “Madame Bones, I believe there is significant reason to doubt Miss Tonks’s testimony and I again, request the use of Veritaserum in order to satisfy that—”

“Denied,” Amelia repeated bluntly, “Again, this is not a trial, Auror Scrimgeour. In the case that the Wizengamot agrees to bring these accusations to trial, the use of Veritaserum may be warranted. As it stands, all you have is a very foolish Auror who is in breach of their contract.”

“Very well,” he replied, his irritation evident in the redness that had begun to creep up his neck and into his face. “In that case, I, Rufus Scrimgeour, Head Auror advise Nymphadora Patagonia Teodora Black Tonks, that you are officially removed from your position of Auror for the British Ministry of Magic. You are barred from holding the office of Auror within the British and Irish territories, as well as seeking employment in any such equivalent role in any of the territories ruled over, but not limited to, those that fall under the International Confederation of Wizards and the International Magical Espionage and Crimes Act. You are barred from seeking employment within the entirety of the Ministry of Magic and it’s subcontractors. You are barred from working as an independent subcontractor, in conjunction with the Ministry of Magic. Any accolades you have achieved and records you hold within the Auror’s Academy will be stripped from you. You will turn in your Ministry Staff Identification card and your Auror’s shield, effective immediately. Any benefits you are entitled to under contract are null and void and you will receive no severance pay. The Wizengamot will determine whether or not you will stand trial for the crimes you have committed, you may not leave the country until such time as your trial has been set or your case has been dismissed. Please hand in your Auror’s shield.”

Numbly, their hands fumbled for the shield at their hip and the Identification Card that hadn’t been working, not entirely comprehending that as they slapped them on the table and slid them across that they were ending an entire chapter of their life, just like that. 

“You may leave — Auror Dawlish, please escort Miss Tonks out of the building, Madame Bones may I have a quick word,” and with that, they watched as Scrimgeour hustled out of the room in Amelia Bones’s wake and Dawlish jauntily got to his feet, their badge sitting abandoned on the table before them as they stood belatedly and turned towards the door.

“Imagine that then,” Dawlish offered cheerily as they held the door open, “You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up in Azkaban for that one, I reckon. Don’t imagine anyone’s been charged of treason since Grindelwald’s days.”

“Dawlish,” they replied, instinctively turning down the corridor towards the elevators in a daze, “Shut the fuck up.”

“I always did wonder if you and that crazy old man were—”

“Dawlish,” Kingsley had the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks and Dawlish seemed appropriately cowed by his sudden appearance, “I’ll take it from here. You’re needed in the office.”

Dawlish paused, squinting between the pair of them before he smiled and turned on his heel to go back in the direction Kingsley had appeared from with a, “Whatever you say.”

Kingsley tilted his head in the direction of the elevators and silently they walked down the corridor, pressed the button, and waited for it to come. Their voice was frighteningly quiet as they offered, “They’re going to take it to the Wizengamot.”

“No,” Kingsley replied calmly, coolly, “They don’t have a case. Madame Bones won’t let it get passed the debate.”

“They accused me of—” they started, fingers starting to tremble as the last vestiges of calming draught wore away and feeling began to seep in, somewhere between a growing panic and white hot rage.

“I know,” Kingsley replied, staring impassively at the elevator and stepping calmly inside when the doors rolled open. They followed after. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Scrimgeour switched mine and Dawlish’s schedules around for that purpose, I imagine.”

The doors rolled shut and Tonks’s fingers clung to the handles inside the car of the lift, blinking rapidly against the incoming tide of emotion that was starting to surface from beneath that false sense of calm. They felt sick. “They know,” Tonks gritted out finally, as the elevator began to move.

“They suspect,” Kingsley corrected, his impenetrable wall of calm beginning to grate on their increasingly less calm state of mind. “All you can do now is keep your head down, they’ll undoubtedly be watching for the next few weeks, and don’t do anything rash.”

The doors rolled open back into the atrium and they walked silently alongside Kingsley across the marble floors towards the fireplaces, their lips set in a strained line as he offered, quietly, “I am sorry that this is how it ended. I have a friend who might speak on your behalf if the Wizengamot decide to—”

Tonks shook their head vigorously, as if this sudden doubt after his absolute certainty only moments before was too much to consider, and instead replied, “I need to go. I can’t be— I need to go,” and hastily stepped forward to seize a handful of Floo powder and cast it into the flames, picking the only place that felt safe to announce, “Cove Cottage,” and stepping hastily into the flames and stumbling out again into their parents, cozy living room.

[vivithefolle]

Have you read endrina's "The Secret Language of Plants" series on AO3? It is so good and so long and it does some really amazing stuff with Ron. With all characters really, except for the Death Eaters and Voldemort (and a little bit of Dumbledore) this author creates the best versions of these characters that JKR *wishes* she had been well rounded and clever and emotionally honest enough to write. "The Meaning of Mistletoe" is the first one. Its a full canon rewrite. All 7 books are covered!

I am very torn.

On the one hand it contains Drarry and Snupin and Geormione and I hate those.

On the other hand... the Ron-appreciation is fan-freaking-tastic.

Find it here.

Ah of course it’s somewhat a “Severus Snape mentors Harry Potter”, so we get those:

Severus had a tell. His face would be impassive, his voice perfectly even and smooth and devoid of all inflection. But if he found something funny, his left hand would twitch and he would close his fist instead of laughing. Harry was probably the only person who knew (maybe Remus did, he didn’t know). Twice, Severus had found one of Ron’s comments funny.

I gotta admit I have a soft spot for the Ron&Snape BROTP, AVPM has a way of making you appreciate it

“He has a… a permanent poker face” whispered Hermione as Severus waved Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, in the direction of the lake.

“You just have to learn how to read him” explained Harry while petting Buckbeak’ head to keep him quiet. “I know for a fact that he finds Ron very funny.”

“Funny?” Ron was having a day full of affronts. “He has given me more detentions than McGonagall ever has.”

(Not true. It was a tie).

How the Yule Ball ought to have gone - minus the gross Drarry shit:

Harry’s robes had belonged to three different witches of various tastes and body types before being purchased by Mrs. Weasley and adapted to be Ron’s formal outfit.

The next step had been very simple. Ron still cared about what other people thought. Harry did not. He really, really, did not. They traded. Ron resisted at first, because it was the polite thing to do, but once Harry got ahold of the dress and started to jump on the bed saying “mine, mine, mine” he accepted the exchange.

His smile had been so soft and wondering, as if Harry had given him the world. Harry felt as if he were trespassing on some religious ceremony, so grateful Ron looked, so easy it had been to make him happy.

Harry’s robes were green, to bring out his eyes. The colour also went very well with Ron’s hair and he looked quite fine. Not as elegant as Draco, for sure, but certainly one of the handsomest students in the ball

[...]

Harry could honestly say that he loved his new dress robes. Specially the cuffs. Oh, the glorious cuffs with three layers of lace. Harry could say that he loved the robes in all their frilly magnificence, but that wouldn’t be completely truthful because what he loved was the effect he had on people.

Headcanon accepted:

“Honestly, I don’t know why are you all acting so surprised.” He said to a variedly pink audience. Seamus Finnigan looked as if he had measles. “They are my brothers, you know. I had to grow up with them. And I am friends with Harry.”

Ron, like Percy, was easily overshadowed by the more explosive and flashy performances of his siblings. Ginny in particular, with her choleric character and her excellent jinxes, came on top of Ron. But Ron was not the runt of the group, not at all. Ron had slowly and painstakingly come to master a subtle non-verbal almost motionless magic, ever since his first year of school when he smuggled his wand to use during punishments. You would not see Ron cast anything, but he was, all the time. All. The. Time. Like someone compulsively pressing the save button on a computer. This was Ron, only with magic, defensive magic. It was now past conscious habit and it had become a tic.

Look, his brothers turned his favourite teddy bear into a spider, when he was on his second year a teacher tried to obliviate him, and the next year he was mauled by an over-enthusiastic Black (“so sorry, Ronald. Do you want a broom? I will get you a broom. Or better yet, a flying motorbike. I am sure you will look great in leather”). Note that he very generously was leaving the first year out, because it was the one time in Ron’s life when he actually went looking for trouble. Every other time the trouble came to find him.

It was only natural, given that he lived in a magical household where he could practice magic during the summers, that he would practice all the protective spells he could learn. He lived with Ginny, too, in case people had forgotten that. It was mere survival instinct on his part.

(Oddly, Percy had been quite helpful. He gave him tips and let him borrow his notes).

By the time he was starting his fourth year, it wasn't that Ron could cast protego in his sleep, it’s that he did. Constantly and absentmindedly. On himself, on Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna (for heaven’s sake that girl was too fragile, someone should look after her). Really, he was casting protego on everyone all the time.

MY BABIES MY UNAPPRECIATED BABIES

Percy was not his dad, he did not share his fascination with muggle ingenuity, but he did pay attention to his father. More than any of his brothers, actually, not that it was ever appreciated. Percy was never appreciated. (Not a complaint, just a statement. At the moment that lack of appreciation was what allowed him to work unnoticed. Hooray for ignored middle children).

(Side note: He should check with Ron, because Ronald was also very much a middle child like him and it occurred to Percy now that his little brother might be sitting on some big secrets of his own.)

Even though this fic went with the “Draco is second best to Hermione in class” cliché and I hate it it does get some things right:

Hermione wasn’t very good with emotions, hers or anyone else’s. She had always exhibited more awareness than Ron, it’s true, but that was more due to Ron having a philosophical acceptance of life than to any particular sensitivity on Hermione’s part. She was not very good with emotions because emotions clouded judgement and Hermione put all her might in her razor sharp mind. This is something that she understood very well.

This is why that morning, after breakfast, she had unfolded a piece of parchment on the table (sadly there were only two notebooks in the house and they were mostly full) and had announced, with great assuredness, that Voldemort must had been and still be very scared.

We love a Minerva that appreciates her chess lion

Minerva had put a swift end to the competition for Most Mischievous Student Ever by naming Potter (Harry) and Weasley (Ron) the ultimate and unsurpassable winners. (“I mean it, don’t even think about trying to take their place, unsurpassable I said.”)

She stood by her judgement because Harry was giving her headaches even in absentia and although Ronald grumbled a little bit that “he didn’t do nothing” there was not much force behind it. Minerva didn’t know exactly what Ronald had done or not done, but she would glare at him as if she knew and the boy looked guilty enough.

At this point, she wouldn’t even be that surprised if he turned out to be an animagus too. He had kept quiet about Severus’ involvement with Harry and he casted protegos nonverbally, so who knew what else he could do.

Ron’s Patronus is the best Patronus and this is canon

Ron was good, had always been good. When asked, because the quality and endurance of his patronus was amazing, he said he just had to think of that pigeon message that told him that his friend was alive and that was enough.

[SPOILER ALERT]

And Ron fucking killing Voldemort is like... *chief’s kiss*

Ron had grown as a young child in a big family. Not even the youngest which is a position of honour in a certain way and often featured prominently in fairy tales. No, he was the one just before, young but not the youngest. There were so many brilliant brothers before him that he knew he would never get to have an “-est” for him. Not the brightest or the funniest or the bravest.

Ron had gone through a process of acceptance in life. By the time he came to Hogwarts he had known and accepted that if he didn’t manage to do something magnificent and astonishing, he would be a bit of an embarrassment for the family. The runt, the one who did nothing remarkable. But even if he achieved a wonderful feat he would still be following the steps of his brothers and so it would not be something extraordinary. He could not win either way and he had accepted that.

By the time he was in his fourth year he had come to accept that his best friend, Harry Potter, was too much of a good person to resent him for all the attention he got and that Ron craved. During that year with the stupid trials Ron had come to accept that he would always be overshadowed by his brothers and friends. Talented Bill and Charlie and even Percy and his good grades, funny twins, clever Hermione, and lastly Harry who was very odd but still the Boy Who Lived. Ron was none of that and it was a bit like drinking black tea with no sugar, it wasn’t nice but he could take it and he could still care about all of them.

Ron had accepted a life of being the runt, the spare, the disappointment. Not even the black sheep of the family, not even that because Percy of all people beat him to it. Ron would be the grey dull brother, not so bad to be the outcast, not so good to be someone for himself. He had accepted it because at that moment making sure all the people he loved were safe was way more important than Ron’s sense of self-worth.

He had accepted it.

Perhaps this is not clear. He had accepted it. He was resigned to a lacklustre life, to becoming an insipid note in everyone else’s lives’ accounts. Ron Weasley, brother of the founders of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ron Weasley, older brother of record holder Quidditch player Ginevra Weasley. Ron Weasley, brother of William the curse-breaker and Charles the dragon-tamer. Ron Weasley, friend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Never in his wildest dreams and fantasies in which he got all the recognition and awards, never, had Ron thought he would become Ron Weasley the One Who Slayed Voldemort.

[owlways-and-forever]

Throughout our lives, we all say so many words that we don’t mean. Thank you, it’s beautiful. I hate you. I don’t love you, I never did. But what about the things we never say? 

There are three words that form a lie more than any other. A lie when they are said, and the greatest lie of omission on earth. They are the lie that will damn your soul and condemn you to an eternity of regret.

I love you.

o . o . o

Padma flitted her quill over the parchment, turning the ink into a beautiful sketch. It took form as she went, gradually taking on the appearance of a spectacular bird. The mangerie was probably what she missed most about Nagpur. The animals they kept were truly beautiful, and Padma had loved to sit in front of the enclosures and sketch the animals while she communed with them. They didn’t have a byangoma in the menagerie, and Padma had never actually seen one of the famously rare birds. Parvati claimed she had seen one once on a vacation with their aunt to Uttar Pradesh, but Padma wasn’t so sure about that. Of all the animals she knew about, Padma most longed to see a byangoma. They were supposed to be incredibly beautiful, and if one dropped a feather on you, it was said that you would be granted a glimpse of your future and a droplet of wisdom. Though the birds are typically sightless, a few drops of blood from a witch or wizard could grant them sight and create an everlasting bond between the two.

“What’s that?” Anthony asked, startling Padma as he leaned over her shoulder to look at the drawing she was sketching across her parchment.

“It’s nothing really,” she answered quickly. She didn’t try to hide her sketch, but she didn’t typically allow anyone but Parvati to see her designs. Still, Anthony slid around her and claimed the seat next to her, continuing to gaze at her drawing as if it were completely enchanting.

“That’s so pretty,” he breathed, his eyes flitting up to meet hers briefly before returning to the drawing. “What is it? It kind of looks like a phoenix but…”

“Airy?” Padma finished, and Anthony nodded. “Byangoma are the elementals for air like phoenixes are for fire. They’re my favourite animal, but I’ve never seen them. I probably never will now.”

“Why not?” 

“They haven’t been seen outside the Indian subcontinent in decades,” Padma explained.

“And you don’t think you’ll ever go back there?” Anthony asked, one eyebrow raised doubtfully.

“Probably not,” Padma shrugged. “My family is here now. What’s there to go back for?”

“Do you miss it there?”

He looked at her with such depth of feeling, far more than any fourteen year old had any right to. Padma felt both uneasy and utterly at home under his gaze.

“Quite a lot, but that doesn’t mean I should go back,” she replied. “I miss sugar, but that doesn't mean I should eat it for every meal.”

Anthony smiled at her analogy, crinkling his hazel eyes.

“Well maybe there’s a way to help you miss home a little less,” he suggested.

“Maybe.”

o . o . o

Anthony practically skipped through the halls, eager to find his best friend. He had some news he was simply dying to share with her.

“Padma!” he called out as he spotted her shiny black plait, and he broke into a jog to reach her.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as he caught up. “What’s going on?”

“I just got a letter from my parents,” he panted, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going on vacation to the foothills of the Himalayas this summer.”

“That’s lovely,” Padma replied, a slight pang of jealousy twisting her stomach.

“They said I could bring a friend!” Anthony continued, practically jumping with excitement.

“That’s very kind of them, it’ll be so much fun for you,” she answered, again feeling a surge of bitterness that she couldn’t help.

Anthony’s expression soured slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Padma? Do you not want to go with me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sudden uncertainty that hadn’t been there moments before. 

“Do you really want me to go with you?” she replied. Padma was sure that he was simply being polite. He would probably much rather go with Michael or Terry.

“Of course I do!” he insisted, reaching out and grabbing both her hands. He couldn’t imagine why she would ever doubt it. “You’re my best friend!”

He refrained from saying any more, the way he always did. Somehow Anthony could never find the right words to really convey how much he cared about Padma. It was pointless anyway, he knew she didn’t feel the same way about him.

“I… I would love to,” Padma answered, although her expression was still sad. “But I don’t think my parents would like it. Especially if Parvati couldn’t come too.”

“Why don’t you at least ask them? It can’t hurt, can it?” Anthony pleaded. There really wasn’t anyone else he wanted to bring on the trip. It hadn’t even really been his parents’ idea, he had asked them if Padma could come.

“I’ll ask, but don’t get your hopes up,” she said with a wry smile. Padma was always the pragmatist. 

o . o . o 

She didn’t feel good about it at all, but Padma really didn’t want to upset anyone, least of all Anthony. And he’d be so hurt if he knew the truth. She hated it even more because she wanted to go with him  so badly . But if she told Anthony how much she wanted to go on the trip with him, he’d be furious that her parents wouldn’t let her. He’d probably try something dumb and gallant and show up at her family’s house to introduce himself and win her parents’ over. And then he would find out the truth, that she never even wrote and asked them.

But Padma knew exactly what her parents would say. It would start with a polite declination, saying that it would be unfair to allow Padma to go when Parvati wasn’t even invited. If Padma pushed the issue, then the real reasons would come out. The problem wasn’t that her sister wasn’t invited, it was that Anthony was a  boy . Her parents would assume that they were dating - probably assume that he had dishonourable intentions for the trip - and they would never approve of her dating him. Not just him, anyone. If they knew the things Parvati got up to at school… not that Padma would ever tell on her sister. 

She didn’t want to start a fight with her parents, or stir up any mistrust. They’d always had a good relationship, and Padma wanted to keep it that way. Asking if she could go on the trip with Anthony was just a recipe for disaster. So she didn’t. She pretended to write home, and then she would pretend to get a letter back, but really it would be Parvati the whole time. Her sister had agreed to help her no questions asked. Well, not exactly no questions. But as Padma walked down to breakfast on the agreed upon morning, she felt dread tugging at her stomach. She hated doing this to Anthony, and she hated it for herself. 

“Everything okay, Padma?” Anthony asked, sliding into the seat next to her with a concerned expression on his face.

Padma painted a dismayed expression on her face, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. She tossed it onto the table in front of him, watching his eyes follow the little ball. 

“Go on, read it, it’s okay,” she said, encouraging him while keeping her expression downcast.

Anthony reached out and took the letter, unfolding it carefully. His eyes scanned left and right, drinking in every word. Padma knew what it said by heart.

Padma chutki,

Your father and I have discussed the matter at length, and agreed that we cannot allow you to go on this trip. It wouldn’t be right to send you so far away without your sister. We simply are not comfortable letting you go on this trip unsupervised at your age. I am sorry Padma. We are happy to see you in a few weeks.

Love,

Amma

Anthony eyed the letter with disappointment, and Padma thought even a bit of suspicion. His thumb ran over the edge of the parchment idly as he thought it over.

“They really won’t let you come?” he asked, his face impossibly sad.

Padma shook her head, conjuring up tears at the idea of being forced to stay behind. Anthony took one look at her despair and his expression softened as he reached out to touch her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered consolingly. “Maybe next time you can come. After graduation, we’ll do a big trip together, okay? You’ll be an adult then, your parents won’t be able to stop you from going if it’s what you want.”

Padma didn’t have the heart to tell Anthony that her parents would always be able to stop her, no matter how old she was. It’s just the way their family worked. She nodded her head in a grim confirmation. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go, I want to meet with McGonagall before class starts,” Anthony said, giving Padma a quick side hug. Then he was off, shoveling down a piece of toast as he rushed out of the Great Hall.

Padma breathed a sigh of relief. Once more, she had successfully avoided dealing with any feelings she might or might not have for Anthony.

o . o . o

Anthony trudged through the lush forest, sunlight glowing through the trees overhead. He could hear all kinds of fauna echoing in the canopy. He wasn’t supposed to be off on his own, but his sister was annoying him and their parents always took Leah’s side. 

He heard a magical sounding caw echo high above him, something entirely ethereal. It floated on the air, drifting down to him slowly like a feather in the wind, back and forth, back and forth. Anthony looked around him, searching for the source of the beautiful song, scouring the branches for some clue. At first, nothing seemed even remotely out of place, but then he saw it - a shimmer of royal blue and deep teal. He knew instantly what it was, he’d seen them sketched on Padma’s notebook enough times.

Anthony felt a pang of sadness grip him. This was Padma’s dream, she’d wanted it for so long. She wasn’t someone who talked about her desires often, but this was one she couldn’t resist giving voice to. And even still, Anthony knew that she wanted it more than she would ever say. He nearly wished that he was wrong so he wouldn’t have to tell Padma that she’d missed it.

The beautiful bird fluttered down to land on a low hanging branch in front of him, which dipped and swayed under its weight. The byangoma was stunning, almost celestial in nature. Anthony could feel an awareness emanating from it, and he knew that every story he’d heard about the intellect and sight of byangomas was an underestimation. 

“Hi,” he whispered, taking a careful step forward.

The byangoma cocked its head to one side, evaluating Anthony, and he could tell that it was reading him and deciding whether he was trustworthy. As if by instinct, Anthony knew that he ought to ask the bird a question, but his mind was alarmingly blank.

Worry not,  the bird seemed to say to him, a melodic voice echoing in his mind.  I know the question in your heart.

It flapped its wings and took flight, circling Anthony closely and dippings its wings so that its feathers brushed against his face and neck. The world around him faded away sharply, a hazy vision surrounding him instead.

He sat at a wooden table in a brightly lit kitchen, Padma sitting across from him. She was laughing, and he knew it was something he said - a story or a joke - that was making her eyes crinkle happily.  The scene shifted.  Padma stood next to him, her wand out, tension written across every feature. Sparks and streaks of light were illuminating the night sky, and Anthony could see a shadowy army approaching. He could feel terror tearing the air around the castle to pieces and the fall of rubble made the ground quake.  Another shift.  He stood on the banks of the Black Lake, with Padma in front of him. She was wearing a yellow sundress, so different from her usual school uniform, but he didn’t think she’d ever looked prettier. She was smiling shyly at him, and she kept rocking forward on her toes, like maybe she wanted to reach out to him. Anthony wanted to wrap his arms around her and hug her close, maybe even kiss her.

The vision disappeared and reality returned as Anthony blinked his eyes. He felt the byangoma’s feathers brush against his face once more, and saw it begin to fly away. One of its feathers shed from the bird and drifted through the air, landing in Anthony’s outstretched fingers.

Tell her,  the byangoma’s voice echoed through his own mind. 

“Tell her what?” Anthony called out as the byangoma began to fly away, his fingers curling around the heavenly soft feather.

Tell her.

o . o . o

Anthony was practically vibrating with excitement as he stood on Platform 9 ¾. He’d enjoyed his trip to India immensely, but it had still been a very long summer, and he couldn’t wait to be back at Hogwarts with all his friends. Especially Padma. He’d missed her a lot, more than he had expected to. And Anthony had been thinking a lot about his revelation on his trip. The byangoma had seemed insistent that his future was with Padma, but he was sixteen, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think of any kind of future that involved another person. Love was simply not something that was in his equation.

And yet… the more he thought about it, the more he started to think that maybe there were feelings there after all. Maybe he did love Padma. The problem was that he just wasn’t sure. Normally, he would talk to Padma to sort out any confused feelings he might be having, but he couldn’t bring her into this if he wasn’t sure. He just wished there was some way to know, some mathematical equation that could tell him the right answer.

“Everything alright?” Padma asked, appearing next to Anthony so suddenly that he jumped in surprise. “You look very concerned about something.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, smiling lightly. His whole heart had eased just looking at her. “I was just thinking about love.”

“That’s quite a serious topic,” she teased, a smile electrifying her face. “What brought that on?”

“Oh, you know,” Anthony answered vaguely, waving his hand, “just getting older. Our friends are starting to date more, and I was just thinking, you know, how do they know?”

“I don’t think they do,” Padma replied, more seriously. “Isn’t that the point of dating? You think maybe you like someone, and then you spend more time with them to find out.”

“But it’s different, isn’t it?” he countered. “It’s not the same as just being friends with someone. It’s gotta be more than that..”

“Sure,” she agreed. “But it’s also a leap of faith.”

Anthony nodded, his gaze drifting along the platform. The train was starting to bustle as students climbed aboard, hauling their trunks with them. The windows were becoming crowded with kids whose noses were pressed to the glass as they waved goodbye to their families.

“Come on, don’t want to miss the train,” Padma joked, tugging the sleeve of Anthony’s shirt to draw his attention.

“Right,” he agreed, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “Let’s go.”

They surged forward with the other students, climbing onto the train. Anthony boarded first, turning around to offer Padma a hand. He knew she didn’t need the boost, but he liked doing little things like that for her. It showed he cared. And he did care about her, probably more than anyone else in his life. He just wasn’t sure that it was  romantic .

“Okay, come on Anthony, you’ve got to tell me everything about your trip!” Padma intoned as soon as they were in an empty compartment. Michael and Terry would probably join them eventually, but for the moment they were on their own.

“It was amazing,” he answered, his face lighting up with excitement. “We saw so many different things, and the history is fascinating. I had no idea there were so many incredible witches and wizards from India, and, if I’m honest, I feel a little bit bad about it. It made me wonder how many accomplished wizards are looked over in our lessons just because they’re not British, or European. Am I looking over them too?”

Padma smiled kindly, fully understanding what he was saying. “Not intentionally,” she reassured him.

“I’m not sure that’s better,” he said, frowning.

“But you know now, and I know you, you’ll make a conscious effort to do better,” Padma replied, reaching out and patting his hand.

“There was something else, something incredible,” Anthony said, changing the subject slightly.

Padma quirked an eyebrow, eager to hear more. But instead of speaking, Anthony reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, carefully pulling out the feather. Padma’s mouth dropped open in amazement as she looked at it, and instinctively she reached out to touch. Anthony thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cloud her face as her skin brushed across the feather and no magic happened.

“You saw one?” she breathed, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, I did, and Padma it was  amazing ,” he whispered, excited to share the experience with her. “It was so beautiful, I mean beyond words, and you could just feel how smart it was. Except it wasn’t just intelligent, it was this feeling of wisdom and foresight and just endless knowledge.”

“Did it show you something?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah, it did, it showed me…” Anthony stuttered, not sure how much to tell her. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. No matter the byangoma’s advice, he just wasn’t ready for that, so he settled for a half truth. “It showed me war. It’s coming, Padma, and it’ll be worse than last time.”

“Well, I think everyone who isn’t in denial knows that,” Padma replied, her forehead wrinkling. “It didn’t show you anything personal though? By all accounts, it’s not like them to reveal something so broad in scale.”

“Well, it showed me fighting and…” he stopped again, his heart constricting painfully at the memory of that particular scene.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Padma assured him.

Anthony nodded, grateful for her understanding. He swallowed the fear that had risen within him and smiled. He wiggled the feather against her fingertips, laughing at the grin that broke out over her face.

“It’s yours,” he said, glancing down at the feather. “I want you to have it.”

“You…?” she breathed, blown away by the gesture. “I can’t take that, Anthony, it’s yours.”

“I know, but it means more to you,” Anthony replied. “And I feel bad that you weren’t there to see it yourself. It’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have -”

“Please, just keep it,” he grinned. “Use it to inspire some more beautiful sketches.”

Padma smiled shyly, uncertain how to accept this gift. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever given to her, and it felt strangely intimate. Especially given the way he was looking at her, like he was seeing something new in her. She wondered if this would change things between them, and the thought that it might made her nervous, but it wasn’t entirely bad. There was something different with Anthony that she didn’t quite understand, but she knew that it wouldn’t go away. He would always be special to her.

o . o . o

Padma ducked under the red streak of light, taking a few steps back. She didn’t know who the Death Eater under the mask was, but they were a good dueler. With every spell they were forcing her further back, leaving open a strategically placed window overlooking Hogwarts’ grounds and the battle that was unfolding below. Padma knew the window was their target. Well, the window and her demise. It was an obvious strategic move - the higher ground provided the opportunity to help out those below and potentially turn the tide of the battle. Padma had been using that very advantage only ten minutes earlier, before the Death Eater had shown up.

“Bombarda!” Padma fired back, her spell deflecting off the Death Eater’s protective shield, rocketing into the wall instead. Chunks of stone pelted them, but neither paid any attention to it. 

Concentration was key in this.

Padma cast three spells in quick succession - expelliarmus, reducto, bombarda again - hoping that a frenzied offense would be to her advantage. If the Death Eater was too busy trying to ward off her spells, he couldn’t attack. At least, that was the plan.

It did not quite unfold that way. 

The problem with fighting adults was that they simply knew spells that Padma hadn’t learnt yet. With a complicated wriggle of his wrist, the Death Eater had managed to conjure up a silvery shield that hung in the air while he sent other curses flying toward her. His aim was off, having to duck around his shield, but she still felt the sting of one of his curses as it brushed her arm.

Padma gritted her teeth and brandished her wand again, ready for another attack. She deflected a few more spells from him, and let loose some of her own, but neither seemed to make much progress. It was a stalemate, and one that she would be stupid to think would end in her favour. The longer this went on, the more she tired, and she was just a student. She wasn’t used to duelling extensively like Death Eaters and members of the Order.

The Death Eater made a slashing movement and she braced herself for a fatal blow, but it wasn’t directed at Padma - rather, someone standing behind her. She turned quickly to look, casting a protective shield as she did, and her jaw dropped. Anthony stood about ten paces back, his palm flat against his stomach as swirls of red blood bloomed across his shirt. His eyes were wide and for a moment he looked childlike again, like when she had first met him, so youthful. But his vitality was fading before her eyes, the life flickering away. Anthony’s knees wobbled and gave way, hitting the ground hard.

A surge of anger took hold of Padma and she turned her attention back to the Death Eater. She howled with rage as she thrust her arms forward as if she could push the vile person away from her. Blue waves pulsated from her hands, seizing the Death Eater in their grip and hurling him backward. He landed on the floor with a fatal  crack as his head hit the stone. Padma didn’t spare the Death Eater a second thought, turning immediately to Anthony, rushing toward him just in time to catch him before he hit the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked, anxiety turning her voice into something bizarrely high pitched. “You’re not supposed to be here! You were supposed to be with Neville!”

“Ron said…” Anthony struggled to get his words out. “Ron said… you were in trouble.”

His eyelids fluttered, and Padma wiggled a little so she could lay his head on her thigh. Her hands tugged his shirt away, finding the gash that split his skin in two.

“I’m fine,” Anthony, she soothed, waving her wand over the cut. She didn’t know much healing magic, and she cursed herself for that now, as her spells failed to make any kind of difference.

Anthony’s breathing grew more shallow as his life continued to seep from the gaping wound, pooling red and sticky around them. Padma wanted to brush her fingers through his hair and caress his face, but she didn’t want to smear blood across his skin. He didn’t need to die like that, with shadows of his own blood across his cheeks, feeling that stickiness on his face. He was going to die. He was going to die because he was hurt and she didn’t know how to heal him. Padma tried to suppress the hiccoughing sobs that wanted to rise forth. She would never forgive herself for this - how could she?

“Padma,” he whispered, his eyes fixing on her with a look that was so deep she felt like she would drown in it. “I’m scared…”

“It’s alright,” she answered, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together. “It’s alright. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

He whispered something as his eyes closed, too quiet for her to hear. Three words that might have changed everything if they’d been said sooner. She didn’t know what he said with that last breath, but honestly, what did it matter? Because the words that she needed him to hear were still stuck in her throat. She had been too much of a coward to say them for so long, and now the words died with him, and regret took their place.

He would never know. Maybe he had hoped, maybe even optimistically believed it might be true. But Anthony had never known for sure, and now he never would. 

o . o . o

Padma ran her fingers over the shimmering blue feather, feeling the softness with every nerve like an electric current. It was her most prized possession, and she hated the idea of being parted with it, but somehow she knew that it belonged with Anthony. He had given it to her, and she couldn’t think of anything more meaningful than laying it to rest with him. She looked down at his face, still and serene, but somehow twisted. She thought that anyone who ever claimed that the dead looked like they were sleeping was a liar. The body in the coffin before her looked nothing like a sleeping Anthony, it looked like a wax figure, and a poor one at that. It might have all the physical features, but it couldn’t come close to capturing Anthony’s spirit, or the way his smile made her heart leap in her chest. All of that was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Not for all the byangoma feathers in the world.

Twirling the feather lightly by its stem, Padma felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she wished they would go away. She didn’t want to cry, not when these were the last moments she would ever get to spend by his side. It was hard to come to terms with the reality that the whole future she had imagined would never happen now. Not only would it never happen, but Anthony would never know that she wanted it. A life with him. Because no matter how much it had scared her, Padma had never been able to imagine any partner but Anthony. 

Padma bowed her head and began to recite a hymn from the Rig Veda, placing the palms of her hands together.

“Yam se milen, pitaron se milen, shreshth svarg mein, mukt ya aadeshit krtyon ke gun se milen*,” she began solemnly. “Leave sin and evil, seek anew thy dwelling, and bright with glory wear another body. Go hence, depart, fly in all directions: this place for him the Fathers have provided. Yama bestows on him a place to rest in adorned with days and beams of light and waters.”

“That’s a beautiful prayer.”

Padma turned around quickly, still feeling jumpy after the battle and the months of war that had preceded it. But it was only Anthony’s mother, looking like her heart had been ripped from her. She looked so much like him, with dark curls and hazel eyes. She was petite, much shorter than Padma, but beautiful.

“Thank you, Mrs. Goldstein,” Padma replied, inclining her head toward the matriarch. “I’m sorry about Anthony. I’m going to miss him very much.”

“Please call me Rachel. You’re Padma, aren’t you?” she asked.

Padma nodded, fidgeting a little and making the bangles on her wrist jingle softly. Rachel smiled gently at her, reaching out to grasp her hand.

“Anthony cared about you a great deal,” Rachel assured her, her voice choking up a bit as she wiped away a stray tear with her free hand. “Seth and I would love to have you over to our house for dinner any time you’d like. Perhaps in a month or two. You could share stories of Anthony at school.”

“I’d like that very much,” Padma replied, squeezing his mother’s hand in return.

Rachel squeezed Padma’s hand once more, and pulled away, turning to her family. Looking around, Padma realized that Anthony’s family were the only ones still in attendance, and she immediately felt self conscious. As difficult as it was, the time had come for her to say her final goodbye. 

Padma looked at Anthony’s face once more, thinking of the things she’d never told him, and she felt sadness engulf her in one of the waves that had been sweeping over frequently since the battle. 

“Goodbye,” she whispered, turning away from the casket. Padma knew it was only a farewell in the physical sense - she would carry this love with her always.