#never thought I would defend hermione so much in a post

[gotranting]

The push - Remus Lupin x female reader

I want to keep my stories on one blog. This is the same story as from my main tumblr, in case you come across it again.

The idea is...imagine Remus witnessing that your patronus has changed its form.

I'm missing older Remus stories, and I need to scroll way down to find them. Tumblr refreshes every so often and brings me to the first post. So I had enough and wrote a few things. Once again, maybe someone will like it...enjoy if you do <3. I plan on making a part two (one day...), and we'll see how that goes.

There are no warnings, except a larger age gap.

Imagine Remus seeing that your patronus has changed its shape. You were surprised as well. Whatever has been going on between you two was never given a name other than friendship. A denial of feelings is what I would call it.

For Remus it was also a feeling of not being enough for you. Of being too old for you. What could he possibly give you, he thought. Living from one paycheck to another? Never knowing where you will live next month? Having to suffer all sorts of slurs and insults once people found out he was the creature you chose as your partner? You had a life in front of you. He would not let you waste it.

And yourself? Apparently you were both presuming how the other would react without even asking for the other's opinion. There was a different pattern of thought in your mind, Of course you would not allow him to settle for you. Remus could do better than that. What could you possibly offer him? See, you believed that all your conversations were on surface level (they were not). You thought that once he would try to get to know you on a deeper level...he would find nothing there (Sirius teased him over how enamoured he looked every time you spoke). You did not see much worth in yourself at all. Oh, yes you hid that well. But, if you saw no worth in yourself, how could you possibly believe anyone else would find any. Remus would have spent hours proving you wrong if he knew. Just as you would spend hours proving him wrong.

There was another problem. To be with him would require of you to open up. And that thought alone frightened you. Yes, you two might have spent hours talking about everything. Or nothing sometimes. So, it is strange that it suddenly became something to fear. But perhaps for many it is not strange at all. Anyhow. If you suffered with such thoughts, why would you put Remus through all of that as well? He deserved someone better for himself.

Strange how similar you both were in that regard.

Well, apparently denial of feelings is how it would be between the two. Without a push, nothing would happen except longing gazes, and too long embraces when one came back safe from a mission. Or throwing oneself in front of the other to defend them against a dozen of dementors. It was the strongest patronus you ever casted. A bear that tore down every dementor which tried to get to Remus. Some got to you. Not many. But at least, Remus was safe.

As for that push - Well it just so happened, there was no need for long waiting. It's strange how fate works yes? I wish Umbridge had nothing to do to contribute to this, but sadly she did in a way. After coming to Hogwarts, she did a marvelous job at teaching the students absolutely nothing. With Voldemort returning, the students were vulnerable if there was no one to teach them how to properly defend themselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione had a brilliant idea. Dumbledore's army. Not everyone believed the Ministry's lies. Soon there was quite a few students joining the initiative.

All in all they planned it quite well. But it was always good to get a second opinion. So, when Harry came to the Grimmauld place, it only felt right to ask the three residents of the house for assistance. Sirius was there constantly. He didn't need any convincing. Spending time with Harry, breaking some school rules, aiding in fighting Voldemort...and getting to call Umbridge a cunt as much as he liked. ...He would have done so regardless. But still.

Remus was there at the insistence of Sirius. The last few months have been difficult after his previous colleagues found out what he was. He defended himself when a hex came his way before he left that shop. See, even with witnessing that, he still thought of himself as a monster. After Sirius found out, he would have it no other way than Remus staying with him. And if the previous coworker somehow got too ill from eating one of Fred and George's experiments well...the twins left their things around constantly. It was an honest accident.

The girl? Well, she had a home of her own. Small place. Hidden. Cozy and simple. Sirius insisted here as well. She didn't know why exactly. And she couldn't be at Grimmauld all the time. But she did stop by as often as she could. After finding out about the hexing, it was more than other members of the Order. Good thing that Sirius handled it (it was an accident I swear), or she would have used something far more darker.

With Harry's arrival it was the four of them in the house. Planning which spells would be the most useful ones to teach. Considering they had cleaned the attic, it was as good a place as any to let Harry practice those spells with their supervision. That way he could get a better feeling on what should he pay attention to.

Spell by spell. Expelliarmus. Reducto. Stupefy. Expecto patronum. The push.

„I think that is a break for me. Anyone wants some tea?“ Sirius asked after an hour of dueling. James would be so proud of Harry. Remus was leaning back on one of the tables observing it all. Your dog was begging for food so you kept to the sidelines as well.

„I'm going back in three days. There is no time for breaks. I cannot let them down.“ Harry on the other hand was not backing down. He would not let anyone be unprepared. He would not let anyone lose a friend in front of their eyes. He needed to practice more.

„Harry, you will not be able to teach them anything if you fall unconscious from exhaustion.“

„Then I need to practice more, to endure as much as I can. The death eaters won't stop because I am tired. Voldemort will kill someone else while I am catching my breath!“

The others could only look at each other. One way or another, he would continue. With or without them. So it was decided, that while Sirius went to get tea, they'd practice something other than dueling. It was your time to step to the centre of the room. You agreed that you would cast the patronus. You would make random mistakes, which Harry would have to notice and correct properly. Remus would give him advice in case he missed something.

Considering she did well when casting a full bodied patronus, she didn't think there would be anything unexpected. First try, she moved her hand in a slightly different direction, which Harry noticed quickly. Second time, she didn't cast a powerful enough memory. Harry gave her some ideas. He would do well, they knew it. Third time, she decided to allow for some wisps to flow from the wand. Still not strong enough. Even here, Harry would give words of encouragement. She thought she saw Remus softly smiling in the corner of her eyes. She thought of that. The last time she saw him like that. It was after the Full Moon. Despite Wolfsbane, she found him pale in bed, wrapped up in blankets. With tea on his bedside table, she put a vinyl on. He mentioned he was fond of Cohen. He was a favourite of his mum's. A muggle store had that vinyl. She didn't have to think twice.

He mentioned that vinyl around six months ago.

If he had more strength in him, he'd get up and carry her with him to his bed in that moment. Nothing sexual. Just to hug her closer. To kiss her on the forehead. To nudge his nose to hers, until she gazed at him with that look. A look which left him thinking that it did not matter at all to her that he was a werewolf. Or 17 years older than her. Poor. Broken. At that moment he would know there was more to him. He'd nudge her nose once again until she blushed. Then he would press his lips to hers. And she would brush the hair away from his forehead. No, they would not let each other go. If only he had more strength. And courage.

She thought of him at that moment. At how she still managed to make him laugh to tears, even after that Full Moon. At how they both hummed to the songs. At what could be. The wisps got stronger this time. She saw the outlines of paws, only they were smaller this time. Strange. The whole bear seemed to be a bit smaller than it usually was. Remus's smile faltered, as he noticed what creature was forming in the room. The realisation was slowly dawning on her as well. It was not the bear she has come to expect, it was a wolf. She could lie to herself only so many times, but here was the proof. Right in front of him. A wolf making a circle around Harry. Coming to greet her dog. Harry was busy looking at the beautiful creature to notice two figures standing frozen in the room.

And sure, he hoped that it was him this wolf represented. She would not stop lying to herself, but she still hoped he understood now. What did each of them see though? He saw her carefree look fading. He saw her standing rigid in the centre. Was she ashamed? Angry? What if the wolf was not connected to him at all? He didn't want to meddle in her love life. If only to hide the jealousy of which he had no right to feel. What if there was someone with whom she felt as comfortable as she had with him the night that vinyl played. He had no right to wish it was him alone who would get to see her like that.

She saw him straightening up. She saw his smile fade. The clenched jaw. He was angry. A girl, barely out of Hogwarts fell in love with him. Just what he needed.

Sirius came up with tea. She was quick to apologize, saying all the practice made her a bit dizzy. Remus still stood next to the table. After a moment he excused himself as well. One could sense something went wrong.

„I suppose no one is in the mood for tea anymore. What happened here?“

„I'm not sure. The patronus appeared and right after they both left.“

A push needed to happen. However, that push can move events in any direction. Sirius had no idea what had transpired in that room. But he would do his best to find out.

[greenerteacups]

Fair warning: I don't think this is going to be a question, just a few post-latest chapter thoughts haphazardly stacked together under a trenchcoat.

Thank you for this chapter. It made my day to read something almost fluffy (I don't think anything in LH can be called purely fluff, and that's a good thing because fluff is best when it is padding for the plot, and that's what this chapter was).

LH Book 5 has been the beginning of payoff for the Dramione slow burn, and while that is immensely satisfying, it also means there are less milestones to look forward to. I don't know if this was an intentional decision, but I love how you started seeding in another slow burn that has kept us equally invested: the Black family drama.

I love reading anything that does the dysfunctional family dynamic well, and seeing Draco getting old enough to identify it clearly, have questions, testing his boundaries, fighting back against what he's been told to accept, has all been immensely satisfying as someone who has gone through this myself. Your depiction of the Black family dynamics has been /chef's kiss/. * spoiler for chapter 70 * when Draco witnesses his cousins casually throwing information his way, what I wanted was for one of the adults to see how much he needed that information, that connection, and give it to him. My god ❤️ You have written a lonely boy craving family so well.

Back to the Dramione of it all (and this might be a question), I love how Harry chose to approach the contained chaos waiting to unravel around him and just bluntly told Draco what he did. Question: do you think this is something Canon Harry would have done in this instance? Was there a choice to change anything in your characterisation of Harry (with respect to Canon) that resulted in this wonderful, blunt, more-mature-than-many-adults-who-can't-even-identify-their-needs version of Harry?

If not, what canon Harry actions/traits do you think would point to him acting this way?

Thank you! This is a beautiful and very kind trench coat, and I am luxuriating in it.

I will answer your question while continuing to luxuriate: I don't think canon Harry would ever confront his friends about an emotional problem, mostly because because he never does. Hermione and Ron, the two people he's most comfortable with in the world, are feuding for most of HBP, and while he does have a few "can't you guys just get along?" type-outbursts, he doesn't really sit down and ask "hey, what's going on with you? How can I help?" because canon!Harry is, as you might expect for a 15-year-old boy, better at ignoring his problems than solving them. (I also think there's an ingredient of conflict-avoidance in there from his upbringing with the Dursleys, but I'll be the first to admit that's mostly headcanon.)

My Harry is a bit softer — in part because that's just how I prefer my Harry, my favorite scenes with him are those where he's showing tenderness for things other people have neglected. This is the best of him, and this is the core of him, in my opinion. Canon Harry has this marvelous capacity for empathy, and when he chooses to use it, it's kind of astonishing how capable he is of resisting prejudice and caring for people. He's fiercely loyal in defending Hagrid, always. He makes a point of freeing Dobby, who's just spent a book trying to maim him. He refuses to let Sirius kill Pettigrew, even knowing that Pettigrew betrayed his parents ("My dad wouldn't want you to" — sweet boy, you mean you don't want them to, and you understand on some level that's the only thing you can say that will stop them.) He saves Gabrielle Delacour, because even if she would have been safe in the end, he's not leaving a little girl at the bottom of a fucking lake. He reads the Half-Blood Prince's handwriting — Snape's handwriting — and thinks: "I bet he's someone like me." On the basis of handwriting, he empathizes with this person! Harry is constantly trying to save people, and he doesn't ever really tell us why. And we'll never know why canon!Harry does that, consciously or subconsciously, but I have to imagine that every time Harry looks at someone in pain, he sees a lonely kid stuck under a staircase, and he thinks not fucking today.

[saintsenara]

Would you ever consider writing Ron/Hermione? Like, as the main ship of the fic?

thank you very much for the ask, anon - and you've definitely brought up something i have been thinking about myself...

obviously, i'm on the record as a paid-up romione defender, and i certainly think that the two of them deserve a far greater fandom presence as a couple than they currently have. i've never vibed with any of the usual non-ron partnerships hermione tends to end up in [although i am much more amenable to ron in other ships - i love a bit of ronarry and i love a bit of dron] and i do share romione fans' exasperation with the way romione-as-a-couple are treated in a lot of fandom discourse, whether because of the impact of the films or because they get in the way of other popular pairings.

and i've definitely thought about some vague plot outlines for romione-centric fics. i'd like to see a version of half-blood prince from hermione's perspective, because her scheming how to get at ron [the mclaggen plan makes me howl every time] is iconic, and i'm obsessed with the potential from so many of the romione missing moments we get hints of in canon, especially the evenings ron and hermione spend alone in gryffindor tower while harry's off on his schemes [and especially the bit in deathly hallows when they fall asleep in grimmauld place holding hands]. i think there's great potential for a big post-war romione epic too - not least because i think ron would be excellent at guiding hermione through the relationship she'd have to rebuild with her parents once she restored their memories.

my issue is that, to be quite honest, i have to be in a certain mood to want to write hermione - and i find it quite difficult to write dialogue etc. for her which doesn't just sound insufferable. while ron has always been my ride-or-die, she's a character i've never vibed with [i have a very low tolerance in real life for all of her most... striking traits] from the very first time i read the books. she's fine as a background character in one year in every ten [the wip I'm writing in which she currently appears] because she's perfect for the genre: it's a murder mystery and she's a lawyer, so her turning up to be pedantic about things is exactly what i want. but i'm not sure i've got the writing chops yet to produce something which centred her which would do her justice as a fully-rounded character - with her good qualities [which i do recognise there are many of! especially her unbelievable loyalty!] given just as much space as her more negative ones - and i don't think it would be enjoyable or fair for anyone for me to write some dogshit in which hermione's just a shrew.

but, you know, never say never... i enjoy reading romione, i enjoy writing female characters as real people, i enjoy anything in which ron features... who knows what the future holds.

[i can promise you won't catch me writing dramione though.]

[riversimmone]

Forgiveness Is a Diamond

Forgiveness Is a Diamond

TheLadyMalfoy (RiverOfTheSand)

Summary:

If forgiveness is a diamond, he was the poorest man in the world. Draco is dragged in front of the Wizengamot after the war, but instead of asking for their forgiveness, he tells a tale of the day he violated a war heroine.

Notes:

Cross-posting from fanfiction.net. Important: Implied/Referenced non-con, Open Ending. Original Author's Notes: Just a drabble I wrote when I found myself wanting to write something unhappy but not excessively tragic. I've fudged facts to fit the flow of the story, but it's nothing huge. For example: when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were taken to Malfoy manor during their search for Horcruxes, Harry wasn't recognised so quickly, as his appearance had been magically changed, much like Ron's in canon when they were breaking into Gringotts. Anyway, the WARNING on this is references to rape, torturing, murder, etc. All the kinds of things I imagine Death Eaters got up to during the war. Rated M. Read and review. :)

"You will tell this court everything we want to know. Under the eyes of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and before the Wizengamot Administration Services, state your name for the record."

"Draco Malfoy."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"Marital status?"

"Single."

"Legal status?"

"Incarcerated."

"What are your crimes?"

…

…

…

Draco hesitated, wondering exactly what they were asking. Was he a Death Eater? They knew this; they'd seen his mark, though it had already begun to fade. They'd heard his other testimonies about his induction into the inner circle. What else could they be referring to?

"What are your crimes?" Kingsley Shacklebolt was patient with him, his voice even.

"Start from the beginning," he said a moment later, now choosing to ignore his own question, "of your time at the Malfoy Manor when you weren't at Hogwarts, if you would Mister Malfoy."

During the war, Draco Malfoy was forced to do some horrid things. With the death of his parents at Voldemort's hands at the end of it all, and then the defeat of the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, it was all over… or so he thought.

He would wake up in a cold sweat for months after that day in his family's manor. They had captured Potter, but no-one knew it was him. In hindsight, he believed Hermione Granger had done something to mask his appearance.

But that wasn't what bothered Draco.

His aunt knew of his past with the mudblood. Bellatrix Lestrange wanted him to kill her. But even though he thought the girl beneath him, and even though he didn't really care either way, if she lived or died, he couldn't do it. That was when his father came into the room and forced him to rape her instead. It was either that or he would kill her, and Bellatrix would torture Draco for the rest of the day.

Draco didn't want to do that either. Touch a filthy mudblood and come inside of her? Over the years, he'd seen his father commit many an atrocity, including raping virgins, casting cruccio on them until they no longer screamed, and then killing them swiftly as though it was just another day at the office. His desire had only increased since the Dark Lord's return.

But again, just like that night on the Astronomy Tower, with Dumbledore, Draco let his conscience take over. He would spare her the horror that his father would otherwise inflict on her, and never beg her for her forgiveness.

She was magically lashed to a wall, unable to defend herself as he pounded her, his father and Bellatrix watching with pure delight and barely contained lust like the voyeurs they were. He would never forget the way the only girl of the golden trio screamed. She was still raw and bleeding from the torture inflicted on her by Bellatrix, and not ten minutes before Potter and the Weasel arrived to free them using Dobby's apparation technique, Draco Malfoy made her bleed again.

She was a virgin.

She was a fucking virgin!

It wasn't like he was surprised, given her extracurricular activities during their Hogwarts years, but with Bellatrix whispering in his ear to "show the filthy mudblood who her masters are" and his father threatening worse onto the Gryffindor, he honestly didn't stop to wonder if this would be her first time. He should have, he knew this, considering how his father was practically salivating at the mouth to be the one to do her instead.

And now, here he stood, in front of the Wizengamot, asked for his deposition on all the things he'd witnessed while a prisoner in his own home. They didn't ask him about the events during the year while he was at Hogwarts, but he supposed that there were plenty more "credible" witnesses to get the dirt on how bad it had been there. For now, they were only interested in hearing about the times he'd been forced to watch as Bellatrix tortured and killed, as well as how his father had periodically raped her victims before she cast the Avada Kedavra, as he'd had his wand taken from him by Voldemort.

And then they asked just him what he had done.

Some of the members of the Wizengamot were looking at him with thoroughly knowing eyes, as if they'd already gotten all the details and were just testing to see if he would admit to it.

So he decided to tell the truth. He lowered his eyes to the floor and told them everything, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't have the Dementors to fear anymore, if sent to Azkaban. He'd overheard that Kingsley had pushed and shoved until they were removed. And more than that, Draco wanted to get it off his chest. He'd already explained the horrific ways in which his father had killed after raping and torturing, along with the other atrocities, so they'd understand why he raped Granger, right?

He was trying to spare her.

But he must have known that once he was done, Bellatrix or his father would kill her anyway, right? It had not honestly occurred to him that they would. His aunt had said something about wanting a mudblood slave shortly before bringing Hermione to him. So consciously, he'd believed she'd be kept around, to be made an example of. She was Harry Potter's best friend after all.

The Wizengamot kept quiet during his confession, just watching him.

He choked out the words when explaining that he'd raped her, trying to convey how much he hadn't wanted to do it. Not because she was filthy to him, but because his father wanted her and preferred if she were virginal. He would not have hesitated to kill her after having had his way, no matter what Bellatrix wanted.

He had saved her. Didn't they see that?

But he didn't beg for forgiveness, he only expressed hatred for what he'd been forced to do and never once asked not to be sent to Azkaban. Of course, he had killed during the war, accidentally though. The Dark Lord considered him weak because he would always lower his wand, but this one time, he'd actually used the Imperius curse on him, keeping his wand up and pointed at the Muggle family. This was before Potter had taken his wand, and obviously before his mother had loaned him hers.

But he wouldn't pretend not to be guilty. He and Voldemort had killed that family together.

Draco kept his eyes on the floor as he told his story, and once he'd finished, lifted his head to look up into Kingsley Shacklebolt's face, seeing only pity and concern on his face. He was eighteen years old, and had been an adult for more than a year, but the way the minister was looking at him indicated they were all thinking of him as a child who had been abused, tormented, and coerced. He wasn't some blood thirsty loyalist who was spouting stupid slogans or promising retribution. He wasn't even a begging Death Eater just trying to keep themselves out of Azkaban.

He was the only Malfoy in the world, the only person left alive who had seen any of Bellatrix's actions in the Malfoy manor or that of any other Death Eaters who had come around during the war. He realised suddenly what those "knowing eyes" had actually been conveying. It wasn't that they'd known what he'd done, but what he'd been through. They didn't want to send him to Azkaban, they didn't want to punish him for the things he'd been forced to do. But now that his attack on one of the golden trio was "out there", some of them were musing amongst themselves on what to do about that.

The Wizengamot members stared down at him, reiterating his crimes and his "status". Then Kingsley ordered the guards to unshackle him. He was free to go. He was also thoroughly confused.

The dark man peered down at him, reminding Draco of the late Albus Dumbledore. "It seems your actions have resulted in the suffering of a well known heroine, but I will let her decide your fate, rather than make a record of what happened that day. Dismissed Mister Malfoy."

That was how Draco found himself face to face with Hermione Granger, outside of the doors to Courtroom Ten. She didn't look like she'd been waiting long, like she'd been nearby all along. All of a sudden, the damn broke inside of him, and he couldn't stop the tears as she stared at him. She wasn't smiling, but there was no vicious glare as she appraised him.

"I heard what you said," she said softly, a minute later, "in front of the Wizengamot."

She'd been in the room? But he hadn't seen her.

She sighed. "I can't begin to know what it was like for you to grow up with that family of yours," she said sternly. "But I know what you did to me, Draco, and that is something that is just unforgivable."

He nodded his head, lowering his eyes to the ground once more. He heard her sigh deeply.

"But after what you said, I can see why you did what you did, even if I still hate you for it. Your father wouldn't have whispered 'I'm sorry' in my ear before violating me. He wouldn't have let me keep my clothes on, and he certainly wouldn't have covered my body from the prying eyes of the others in the room. He would have laughed and tormented me."

Hermione really didn't want to yell and cuss at Draco, but she had to make him understand. "But… there's no taking it back, and there is no forgiveness for your family name."

Draco swallowed heavily, not surprised. He didn't deserve it, he knew. But what else was he supposed to do? He supposed he could've refused to touch her, but what would that have done to her?

"But Draco, look at me."

His head snapped up as he realised suddenly that she had been using his given name, and not Malfoy. Why?

Hermione managed a half hearted smile. "I know your father would've done worse to me, so I'm giving you a once in a lifetime 'get out of jail free card'."

What was that?

She couldn't bring herself to stand any closer to him however, and kept her distance in order to keep her own emotions at bay.

"Draco," she said evenly. "I forgive you."

X X X

[hchollym]

Would Bill and Fleur's divorce be ugly or amicable? And how would the Weasleys react to it? I just know Molly would blame everything on Fleur, even if it was a mutually agreed divorce.

In response to this post.

Good question! 😄

I think it could go a lot of different ways, but my gut tells me that it would involve an affair, and that would definitely not be amicable!

I personally tend to think that Bill would be the one to have the affair. Bill started dating Fleur when she was just out of high school, and throughout their relationship (that we see in canon), Fleur acted very much like a lovesick teenager:

Fleur walked over to stand beside him [Bill], giving him a soppy, slavish look...

&

“’E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose.

Bill likes that attention. So what happens when they've been married for a while and that stops? Fleur would still love him, but at some point, she's no longer going to look at him like he's a god.

Then, I imagine Bill goes looking for an ego boost in a younger woman who will look at him like that (in the same way that many men have affairs with women who aren't necessarily better looking; they just make the man feel better about himself).

I can also imagine Bill getting bored with family life - he loves his wife and kids, but he's missing the excitement that he grew accustomed to, so he goes looking for it elsewhere.

It's certainly possible that Fleur could be the one to have the affair, because Bill isn't meeting her emotional needs (which I definitely see happening, given how passive he is and the way he doesn't defend her to his family). She could try to find that fulfillment in another person, but I just tend to doubt it.

Regardless, if one of them has an affair, it's not going to be pretty. They are both incredibly proud people, which is just going to exacerbate the betrayal and heartbreak.

If Fleur is the one that cheated, she's not getting any support from the Weasleys (who never particularly liked her anyway). 😢 Some of them (like Percy) may feel some sympathy for her situation, but they'd never say it out loud for fear of being ostracized from the family.

If Bill is the one that cheated... well, Fleur's still not getting a lot of support. She'd get a little more (from people like Percy and Hermione, who - despite her dislike of Fleur - is disgusted by Bill's actions), but I think most of them (like Fred, George, Ron) would simply stay out of it, while others (like Ginny and Charlie) would probably even defend Bill and try to justify his actions.

Molly would definitely defend Bill, and she would blame Fleur for not being a good enough wife to her precious baby boy. After all, Molly's husband never cheated on her, so clearly Fleur was the one doing something wrong. 🙄

If an affair doesn't happen, then I think the divorce would mostly be amicable (albeit very awkward), and most of the Weasleys would stay out of it and not take sides, but Molly would always blame Fleur, no matter what. 🤦‍♀️

Thanks for the ask! 😊

[randomguyonline71]

When did you start shipping hinny

A bit of backstory in my venture into HP. I saw an ad for the reunion special, and thought to myself "Why have I never seen Harry Potter?". I then bought a HBO subscription the same night and watched PS. And it was love at first sight. I then watched a movie a day for the next week. And I ordered the books straight after finishing DH pt. 2. Whilst I waited on the books, I found this concept called fanfiction. And I started reading stories, which caused me to fall deeper in love with the world of Harry Potter. And when the books finally arrived, I couldn't put them down. Ever since I finished them, I have had PPD(Post Potter Depression) and tried to drown that with fanfiction. Which has worked pretty well so far.

Anyway, back to the question:

I think it was during CoS.

Ginny being so awkward around Harry is brilliant. The way she runs out of the kitchen when she see him is adorable. The way he panics over her (almost) dead body. Ginny defending Harry against Lucius is also precious. Unfortunately Ginny didn't really appear before OOTP again, so I didn't really think about them all that much during PoA and GoF. (I will never forgive Steve Kloves for that.)

In OOTP I just couldn't get behind Cho/Harry, so I started looking elsewhere for someone to ship Harry with. The obvious choice had been Hermione, but she was clearly in love with Ron and her and Harry had zero romantical chemistry during those movies. Maybe it was a subconscious decision made during CoS, but I started shipping Hinny. I cherished the few scenes they had throughout the rest of the movies, but I didn't LOVE them, like I do now.

That wasn't until I read the books. And oh my, the movies RUINED Ginny Weasley. She is such an amazing character, and truly the perfect woman for Harry. And without a doubt soulmates. I wish we had gotten more scenes with them in HBP, but I will take what I can get. Their kiss was brilliant(fuck whoever gave it to Ron/Lavender in the movies). Their banter was fantastic(fuck whoever cut that out of the movies). Their obvious strong love for each other(fuck whoever ignored that in the movies.)

I can understand if people who have only seen the movies don't ship them. Because they are severely underdone, and not reading the books first will forever haunt me. But book Hinny is nothing less than fantastic. I love them.

And fanon Hinny, whew. That is even better. The way some of the authors write them is breathtaking. I can't put into words how glad I am for discovering fanfiction. I don't know how I would have coped with the rough patches that has occurred during these past 14 months, if I didn't have fanfiction.

Steve Kloves or whoever is to blame for movie Hinny, made me crave some good Hinny content so much, that I started writing it myself. And whilst I wouldn't classify it as good Hinny content, at least not the first few drafts. It still clenched that need for more good content temporarily.

This answer got a lot longer than expected, and turned into a rant about Steve Kloves. But thank you so much for the ask anon :D

[yennefer]

hello, I just wondered if you had thought about changing your blog away from a HP theme? given JKR and the terf problem, if its better not to give it as much of a platform .

No hate just want your take on it

okay i'm finally back from work so i can answer this...

i just want to preface this first by saying that i am not a jkr apologist by any means. i think her opinions about trans people are wrong, disgusting, and very harmful. there's a problem within the harry potter fandom where people get very defensive about still enjoying harry potter to the point where they try to explain or defend jkr because they feel they have to. i'm not one of those people. and i've honestly been let down by cast members who feel like just because she created a world they grew to love, and because they might otherwise like her as a person, that she deserves the benefit of the doubt or some kind of compassion. she doesn't. not when her words can lead to real-life consequences and harm. not when she's proven herself to be a giant hypocrite. how do you write a story where your main characters are looked at as lesser than because of who they are (whether that's harry being a half-blood, hagrid being half-giant, hermione being muggleborn, house elves being treated like slaves, etc.) by the villains, and turn right around and do EXACTLY the same thing? and it makes it so, so much worse because she has such a giant platform and has a lot more influence than, say, the rick riordan or stephanie meyers of the world (for example).

now i will say that harry potter holds a special significance to me, as it was the series that got me into reading. i went to see all the movies the day they came out, i waited at barnes & nobles for the new book releases... my original harry potter books are so worn out from me reading them that they've literally fallen apart. i've spent money on five different book sets and a hell of a lot of merch. my dad will never let me down getting upset with him because he decided he would rather spend money on building our movie room instead of taking me the wizarding world of harry potter the summer it opened (i ended up going two summers after anyway). there were points in my life where i read nothing but harry potter. i just re-read the books over and over again. i've watched all the movies countless times that i can recite the lines verbatim. i say all this to say that i'm a huge harry potter fan. and i will always have a lot of love for the series and the movies.

that being said, it's hard to reconcile being a fan of her work and not being a fan of her. i used to reread the entire series every year or two. it just felt like coming home. but i haven't reread them since the news broke and i don't think i ever will. i also stopped buying all harry potter related merch. for me, it's enough that i don't support her financially in any way. it's enough that i'm mindful when i do watch or engage with the world she created, i am mindful that it's based off a work by a person who held bigoted views and those views certainly influenced certain things in her work. i think that's enough that i don't try in any way to defend or make excuses for some of those things. however, i realize that this is not enough for some people and they would rather not engage with the fandom (and by extension me, or my blog) at all. and they absolutely have that right. i'm not here to tell anyone how they should feel.

as for my blog, tbh, i don't post that much about hp anymore. the fandom has pretty much died out on here, and that's in large part to jkr being a terf. i don't necessarily think that posting hp is giving it a platform, especially when i am not a big blog by any means. i do hope that if someone does decide to watch the movies or read the books because of my blog (doubtful lol), that they are aware of the fact they're engaging with a work created by an author with bigoted views. my blog is also multi-fandom and always has been. i stopped giffing so i don’t create content for it anymore either. as for whether i'll change urls or stop posting about hp entirely, the answer to the first part is probably and as for the second... i really don't know yet myself sorry.

[comfortwriting]

Ashtray - D.M part 1

Masterlist, Posting Schedule, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Draco Malfoy x Fem Gryffindor Smoker Reader

Part 2 , Part 3

About: After years of bullying the reader, Draco catches her smoking, at first he doesn’t care and doesn’t think much of it. Draco suddenly finds himself crushing on the reader, realising how bad smoking is and freaks out.

Warnings: mention of cancer, heart disease, lung disease, the word mudblood.

“He’s staring at you again” Harry muttered.

You, Ron and Harry were standing in the court yard, Hermione with her head stuck in a book. You looked across to see the platinum blonde haired boy that hated your guts, sitting in a tree, Crabbe and Goyle making him laugh. 

“Just ignore it Harry” you said softly, “you’ve got enough on your plate this year”

Harry didn’t answer and continued to stare down Draco, squinting at him through his glasses.

Sighing you turned around and checked sneakily in your bag for your cigarette packet, unfortunately you had left it behind the in dorm room. Your fingers were itching for a smoke, you hated not being able to sneak off for one between classes, especially on sunny days like these when everyone was outside.

“It’s a bit odd that he has it in for you” Ron spoke up, shoving a jelly slug in his mouth “I mean - you haven’t given him a reason to.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, pulling herself out of her book “it’s because she’s with us, you idiot”

“no” you replied “even before I joined you lot, Draco’s been unpleasant.” 

Speaking of the devil, Draco and his two stocky sheep strutted over to you, each of them smirking and laughing at you. 

Your heart pained for a moment, Draco had to be the most gorgeous lad you ever laid eyes on during your time at Hogwarts, but unfortunately he was also the rudest and most arrogant of the lot. 

You couldn’t explain why you were so into him, you only know the bad parts of him - yet baffling enough, you wanted to see the good parts of him more than anything and funnily enough, Draco only knew the good parts of you, yet he yearned for the bad in you. 

“Look what we’ve found here boys” Draco smirked, stopping in his tracks “a peasant, a mud blood, an orphan and..” he paused, his eyes searching you. 

“a tosspot?” you answered for him, smirking back “you’ve got to do better than that, Malfoy.”

Draco’s face dropped and the same old frustrated look splashed across his face.

This was the first time he couldn’t think of something on his feet, you had caught him out in front of both his friends and yours, you would relish making him look stupid for the rest of the school year. 

Draco stepped out in front of you, Crabbe and Goyle waiting behind him. You stepped out from your shield of friends and stared the blonde down, Ron could barely contain himself.  

Draco didn’t know why he hated you, well, part of him did - you’re a Gryffindor, you’re best-friends with the people he hates most and worst of all, you could outsmart him. But the other part of him didn’t feel that hate or maliciousness towards you, he didn’t like you or dislike you - he was only forcing himself to hate you. 

He had to think of something, the longer he stayed silent the more stupid he looked. 

“You’re ugly and you smell like a filthy ashtray” he spat at you, turning around  he walked away with Crabbe and Goyle pretending to laugh to make him feel better. 

You burst out laughing and flipped him off. 

“Ugly, wow.” you breathed.

Ron couldn’t help but laugh “it’s alright for you isn't it? ashtray - some insult that, you sure you don’t fancy him or something?.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully “don’t talk crap, Ron.”

‘He isn’t entirely wrong though’

 You glanced at Harry and Hermione “Are you two okay?” you asked, feeling bad about what Draco said and for not defending them. 

The two of them looked at one another and back at you, nodding. 

“We’ve got an important exam to prepare for, you coming with?” Hermione asked.

You shook your head, your fingers now unbearably itchy and your head desperately pleading for a smoke.

“nah, I’ve got some homework to do, see you later?” 

Waving and walking away, you went to your dorm, your head filling with thoughts of the blonde. 

“so stupid” Draco cursed under his breath, pacing around the empty Slytherin common room. 

No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t rid the pictures of you flashing in his head: the sound of your laugh, your voice answering questions in potions, the scent of your hair, your smile, the way you walked across the Quidditch pitch - Draco found himself drowning in a sea of confusion. 

‘I can’t fancy her, father will see rage’

He shook his head and pushed his soft blonde hair back, he couldn’t be developing feelings for you, no way - you must have put a spell on him, hexed him even. 

Finally lighting your cigarette, you inhaled, pulling it away from between your lips, holding it between your index and middle finger, the inside of your mouth warming up. Looking out at the great lake, you admired the beautiful reflection of the sky and beaming sun waving in the water. 

Draco left the common room and searched the entire school grounds for you, he finally approached the great lake and felt satisfied when he saw you. 

Getting ready to scold you and disarm you, he stopped in his tracks, your beauty stunning him. Although you were smoking, this didn’t bother Draco, it made sense for the nickname he gave you, but even when breathing in toxic chemicals, nothing could stop his heart from racing.

He wanted to pull you into him for a long and loving embrace, to share an intense kiss flowing with the pent up feelings the two of you were hiding, he wanted to make you his - he wanted to protect you. 

Managing to pull himself out of his trance, he continued to approach you. 

Exhaling, you heard a familiar sharp voice pop out from behind you. 

“Tell me what you’ve done, ashtray!” 

Turning around, Draco stormed over to you like he did earlier on, his hair and robes blowing in the wind. 

Noticing the cigarette resting between your fingers, you started to choke on the smoke out of panic, instantly dropping your cigarette onto the floor and stamping on it in a hurry - but he had already caught you. 

“Done what?” you breathed out, coughing even more into your fist.

“You know exactly what you’ve done, trying to mess with my head!” he hissed. 

You stared at him like he had two heads.

 “Malfoy, sort yourself out, will you? I’ve got no bloody idea what you’re talking about. Get lost off if you’ve got nothing better to do!”

Draco scoffed and pointed at you “if you don’t give me an explanation by tonight I’ll do you in for smoking.” 

the sun beams outlined Draco as if he were an angel, he turned around and strutted off, you watched him leave and searched your packet for another cigarette, cursing yourself for putting a full one out without needing to.

Feeding your bad habit, you pondered around trying to figure out what Draco was talking about.

‘Messing with his head?’

“Where have you been?” Pansy asked, relieved to see Draco entering the  common room.

Draco stared at Pansy for a moment, Crabbe and Goyle sitting down.

He couldn’t allow them to figure him out, his undying crush on you, he had to keep this act up, he needed to protect himself. 

“If that ashtray doesn’t confess by tonight, she’ll be out of this school.”

Pansy grunted “let her continue to smoke, Draco. She’s killing herself by doing so.”

Draco got a sinking feeling in his stomach, he didn’t really want you gone from Hogwarts and he sure as hell didn’t want you dead.

Draco pondered whether or not it would be worth addressing and accepting his feelings so he can confess and move forward, he hated keeping the truth to himself and lying about it.

“What?” He stared at Pansy.

Pansy yawned “cancer, heart disease, lung disease, let her put herself at risk to all that.”

Draco didn’t know much about cigarettes, they never appealed to him but he now hated them within seconds. The beautiful images of you were replaced with sickly ones, the sound of your laughter replaced with your wheezing and croaky voice.

The platinum blonde haired boy couldn’t sleep that night, he tossed and turned, his head screaming at him to approach you, to stop you from damaging yourself, even if nothing happened between the two of you.

Creeping around the school in your pyjamas, you silently tip toed past the great hall, praying to get outside for your last smoke of the night.

Feeling a hand grab you, you clamped your hand over you mouth, silencing your screams.

The taller person who had taken hold of you had his finger against his lips, his eyes burning into you with not hate.. but love and a slight hint of concern.

Your hand fell beside you “What are you doing?” You hissed lowly at him.

Draco noticed the cigarette packet in your other hand, he snatched them from you and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Draco, I didn’t do anything I for Merlins sake!—“

Draco couldn’t take his brain screaming anymore, his heart pining, he couldn’t ignore the images of you, the sound of your laughter - he wanted you, he wanted it all.

You didn’t call him Malfoy.

Smashing his lips against yours, he silenced you with a long, meaningful kiss.

Draco felt relieved, the heaviness coming from the bricks sitting on his shoulders had tumbled off, his thoughts finally silenced, his heart finally lighter and the best thing of all - he got reassurance; you were kissing back.

The taste of green apples filled your mouth, instantly making you nervous if all he got in return was more ashtray. 

Your heart skipped beats, the butterflies in your stomach flapping their wings and taking flight, fireworks exploded between your lips. 

Draco pulled away and his soft expression turned hard, you stared at him trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“You’re stopping smoking” Draco ordered quietly.

Looking around for Mr Filch and Mrs Norris, you turned your attention back on Draco.

“Why do you care? I’ve given you an answer and you’re going to do me in anyway—“

Draco sighed, his words coming up like vomit.

“Wait, why did you kiss me?” you asked, your fingers running over your lips.

“I don’t want you to put your health at stake, Y/N!” Draco took your hands in his.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this, I don’t know why I’m so attracted to you but for as long as I do have feelings for you - you’re not doing this to yourself.”

You looked into his beautiful gleaming ice grey eyes, chewing on your lip nervously “You have feelings for me?” you began to smirk. 

Draco put his head in his hands “I just kissed you didn’t I?” 

You nodded and pursed your lips, this whole encounter going from awkward to cringe, yet so sweet and innocent. 

“Well I kissed back”

Draco gave you the ‘no shit sherlock’ look “I had no idea, ashtray mouth” 

You slapped him playfully like you did Ron this morning, the two of you starting to laugh quietly, your heart fluttering at his smile, his perfectly pearly white teeth. 

“I have feelings for you too, Draco”

“No..” Ron squealed under the invisibility cloak.

Trying to step out and batter Draco, Harry grabbed Ron by the back of his jumper, holding him back. 

“shut it, will you!” Harry hissed. 

Ron gave him a look “she’s sleeping with the enemy!”

Harry wanted to slap his best friend around the head “they’ve just kissed, look I’m not happy about it either—“

“I thought Hermione was bad enough with Krum-” Ron whined.

[god-of-dust]

after much deliberation, i decided to post what i wrote of chapter 2 and 3 of Trick Me here. this will probably never end up on ao3 because of Reasons, but someone might enjoy reading it and i definitely enjoy the validation. (also, leaving this to rot in my folder seems like a waste.)

this is rated T, no particular warnings apply besides tom’s occasional murderous thoughts.

-----

There’s no sign of Potter. Figures. Tom glares at the suit of armour as if it’s the one meant to carry the blame for this situation.

Disillusionment Charm firmly in place, he leans on the rough stone wall and resigns himself to wait.

“You’re early. Why am I not surprised?”

In a split second, Tom turns in the direction of the voice and points his wand towards... the empty corridor?

Then Potter’s head—only his head—emerges from thin air.

“Jumpy, too. Again, not surprised,” Potter says, smirking. Then he moves, revealing the rest of his body and the rippling fabric of a cloak.

An Invisibility Cloak. No wonder Potter can get wherever he wants without getting caught. “Where did you get that?” Tom asks, envy colouring every word. That kind of Cloak is worth thousands of Galleons, which is more money than Tom has ever possessed in his entire life.

The things Tom could do with one... he’d have no need for permission to slide beyond the wards of the forbidden section of the library. While certainly tame compared to what a collection from a Dark pureblood family would hold, there are also many old books there that Tom has been dying to get his hands on since he’s seen their titles and felt the power they contained.

“Family heirloom,” Potter says with a shrug.

Of course Potter has a family that provides for him, and of course he has the gall to shrug, like it’s absolutely normal to carry around an object this valuable and use it to go to the Quidditch pitch at night. It’s maddening, to witness this utter lack of ambition in someone who has so much at his disposal and wastes it so pitifully.

He reaches out to touch the fabric. It’s soft and perfect, spells woven so beautifully that it appears not to be enchanted at all. He refuses to believe that this Potter is the one who cast them. “What kind of spells does your family use to prevent the magic from fading? How frequently do you have to refresh them?”

Potter only smiles and shakes his head. “You and Hermione would be amazing together if you just stopped being an arse to her.”

Tom glares at him. His thoughts on that particular topic must be crystal clear, because Potter laughs that full-bellied laugh of his. “You haven’t answered my question,” Tom insists.

“Do you want to stand in the corridor all night discussing my cloak? I thought we had Quidditch to play.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tom says: “Fine.”

“Get under here, then,” Potter beckons, holding a side of the cloak open for Tom to slip under and cover himself.

Sliding in the offered space, Tom instantly becomes very aware of how close they have to stay for them both to be concealed. Wonderful, he thinks, just wonderful. Just what I needed: more contact with him.

He lets Potter lead the way outside; after a bit of fumbling, they find a rhythm that allows them to walk in sync without constantly bumping into each other’s shoulder.

“Thank Merlin you’re shorter than Ron. His feet try to peek out all the time, it’s an absolute nightmare.”

Are his friends all he can talk about? Tom vaguely wonders, before noticing the route they’re taking. “The Quidditch pitch is the other way.”

“We’re not going to the pitch,” Potter replies.

Tom stops in his tracks, making the cloak tangle around Potter’s form; unsurprisingly, it only takes a moment for the miraculous Golden Boy to recover his balance. Tom, voice strained with the effort to keep it under control, hisses: “If you’re trying to trick me, Potter, I swear—”

“I’m not,” Potter interrupts. “The pitch is too open and couples go there to shag all the time, so the chances of someone seeing us are too high. I’m taking you to a place only I and my closest friends know about.”

Again with his friends. “Are you really so arrogant as to believe you’re the only one that knows anything about Hogwarts?”

This time, Potter is the one who stills abruptly. He turns to face Tom, noses almost touching under the cloak, eyes ablaze with an emotion that Tom has never seen on him: genuine, unfiltered anger. “Listen, Riddle. I offered my help, but what I didn’t offer was being target practice for your fucking abrasiveness. You want to learn Quidditch? I can teach you. You want to act like a bastard? Go do that somewhere else, because I’m not afraid to punch you in the face if you insist on constantly accusing me of imaginary crimes.”

“As if I’m not able to defend myself from your punches,” Tom snarls.

Potter’s eyes narrow. “Were you even listening to me?”

There’s nothing stopping Tom from hexing Potter into the next century; nothing, except for the fact that he’d be expelled and then the whole Potter clan would ensure that he’d rot in Azkaban for an indeterminate amount of years. Right now, it seems like a minor price to pay.

He keeps his twitching fingers away from his wand. He needs to hold himself in check if he wants to avoid Potter’s suspicion. After a steadying breath, he says evenly: “I was. My words were... out of line. I apologise.”

Silence stretches while Potter stares at him. Then he turns on his heels, facing away, and they resume their walking.

It takes them a few minutes to reach the boundary of looming trees that students are supposed to never cross. “Is this secret place of yours really inside the Forest?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m reasonably sure that no one else has discovered it. A wrong turn would take them either into an Acromantula nest or in centaur territory,” Potter explains, navigating with sure steps amidst trunks and twigs and weeds and bushes as if he owns the place.

Both options are incredibly dangerous, for many different reasons. Not even the Headmaster has jurisdiction over the creatures in the Forest, and any reckless student who wanders too far is responsible for their own fate. Over the years, Tom has done a little exploring of his own to gather herbs, shed fur and other potion ingredients, but he never went as deep inside as wherever Potter is taking them now. “How did you discover it, then?” Tom asks while memorising the convoluted trail so that he’ll be able to return later. The potions he could brew with even a small vial of Acromantula venom, or some eggs... he has to find out more about those supposedly wrong turns.

“I followed my nose,” Potter says with a mischievous smirk, previous anger washed away like a leaf in a river. “And perhaps I had a bit of help.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m not going to divulge my secrets to anyone who asks... besides, you’re smart enough; perhaps with time you’ll figure it out on your own.”

Focus still firmly placed on their surroundings, Tom ignores the compliment. He has no use for Potter’s pretense.

A large clearing suddenly materialises before them, encircled by towering trees whose foliage forms a protective half-dome high over their heads. Ancient magic caresses Tom’s skin, making him shiver with anticipation. There’s a circular area in the center, large enough to hold a dozen people, empty of any grass or stone; Tom is certain that someone has built it that way on purpose. He steps closer, prudent and fascinated in equal measure. “What is this place?” he wonders, eyes wide and searching as he studies the stone while taking in the feeling of rightness and inspiration the space emanates.

“Somewhere where we can have all the privacy we want,” Potter says lightly as he slides off the cloak from their shoulders. To him, this secret spot humming with magic that vibrates in Tom’s blood and bones must be just another day, just another priceless thing dropped on his lap that he wields without a care.

After enchanting a few Lumos spheres to hover around them, Potter extracts a small object from his pocket, lays it on the even ground and enlarges it with a wave of his wand, revealing it to be a trunk. Then he points to a twisted root that peeks out from the soil and transfigures it into three Quidditch hoops, about three meters high.

“I assume you know about Quidditch roles and rules even if you’ve never played, correct?”

“Yes.” Tom’s skimmed through a Quidditch book, if only not to be completely unprepared when it came to playing his part in this charade. He will carry his plan forward and rip the rug from under Potter’s feet, even if it involves studying a few tedious rules of a tedious sport.

“So, you can probably imagine that every role requires different skills, which is why we’ll explore every one of them and gradually build up your stamina and reflexes while you discover what you’re naturally good at.” He scratches at his head contemplatively. “When was the last time you rode a broom?”

“First year flying classes. I was average at the basics and never tried anything more elaborate.” Tom isn’t eager to recall most of those memories because, in truth, it had been humiliating to realise how far behind his peers he was. Unlike them, he’d never had a broom of his own to practice and his confidence had faltered when he needed it the most. The broom’s magic had caught on his hesitation and thus his performance had been lukewarm at best.

“Yeah, I can imagine it wasn’t pleasing for you. Hermione was the same. You really can’t stand it when you don’t excel at something, huh?”

“I doubt anyone enjoys the feeling of being incompetent.”

“Good point,” Potter admits, “but that’s not the attitude you need right now. You always have to start from somewhere and build from there, even if that starting point isn’t as glorious as you’d like.” He squats to open the trunk; it contains a clearly well-loved yet also well-kept set of Quidditch balls.

Tom eyes suspiciously the Bludgers struggling against the chains holding them in place.

“Since we’re starting from the basics, tonight we’re both going to play Chasers, which means that we’ll pass the Quaffle between us and do our best to score through the goals. Of course, there’s more to being a Chaser than this, but it will be enough for now. Before that, though, I want to see you on a broom.”

“I don’t have one. I presumed we’d use one of the school brooms,” Tom says, crossing his arms, mild irritation colouring his tone.

Unbothered, Potter reaches again into his pocket to produce two shrunken brooms. “I brought my Nimbus. It’s very good, especially for a beginner, with quick responses and great stability.”

He holds out his hand and Tom takes the now appropriately sized broom. “...Thank you.”

“Wow, you’re really making an effort into being polite. I appreciate that,” Potter says, apparently pleased. “But now, Riddle, show me how you ride.”

There’s nothing in Potter’s smile and in that particular phrasing that Tom could possibly care for. He straddles the broom and pushes himself to hover in mid-air, one meter from the ground and then one more; feeling how precarious and uncertain his posture is, he does his best to correct it.

“Good. You don’t seem to be struggling much. Are you afraid of heights?”

Tom shoots him a venomous look. “No.”

“That’s one less thing we have to worry about, then.” Potter jumps on his broom and rises too, graceful as a phoenix. Bastard. “Let’s try some loops.”

Tom nods and watches as Potter demonstrates a few simple figures: circle, spiral, figure-eight. They seem easy enough, but when Tom tries to follow Potter’s directions his broom moves in shaky zig-zags instead of the smooth curves he expects it to perform.

“This broom isn’t working,” Tom snarls. He looks at Potter, who’s certainly dying to make fun of him... only to find no trace of sadistic glee on his expression.

Potter circles around him, examining him from head to toe with furrowed brows, almost hawk-like in his focus. “You’re clenching your thighs and hands too hard. The broom reads that as a sign for ‘straight line’ and ‘speed’, and right now that’s not your objective. For curves like these, you have to flow with the movement and lean into the direction you want without overbalancing.” His posture is relaxed, bordering on lazy, as he flies in a large, slow circle for Tom’s sake. “Like this.”

Tom imitates him as best as he can, loosening his grip. “What if I want to achieve a fast curve?”

“Fast curves are more advanced. We’ll try those later.”

Tom tries again with a figure-eight, and he’s surprised when he finds that the broom’s following the path he intended with increasing ease.

“See? Way better,” Potter beams. He looks like he’s genuinely enjoying this.

After a few minutes of loops, Tom’s acquired a mild amount of confidence in his form; at least the feeling that he’ll tip over every time he steers the broom has lessened until it’s nearly gone. Seemingly satisfied, Potter instructs him on how to repeat the same figures with a single-handed grip, then handless, as he explains: “You’ll need your hands free for the Quaffle.”

Even while going through boring drills at this insignificant height, there’s an undeniable thrill to flying, to acquiring control over something as elusive as air. “One day,” he declares, “I’m going to invent broomless flying.” Perhaps a variation of Wingardium Leviosa, combined with a Feather-Light Charm... yes, he’ll do it, and succeed.

“That would be amazing. And honestly, if anyone could do that it would be you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tom scoffs, close to amused. Does Potter really think that compliments will have any effect on him? Tom’s too acquainted with the subtle art of manipulation to take any of Potter’s amateurish attempts seriously.

Potter rolls his eyes. “It’s not flattery, it’s me making an observation. Every single person in Hogwarts knows that your knowledge and control over magic are impressive.” Smoothly diving forwards, Potter reaches for the trunk and grabs the Quaffle inside it.

“Catch!” he says, and throws the ball at Tom.

Instincts rearing up before he can think, Tom steers sideways to dodge, but he’s too quick, too sudden, the broom refuses to cooperate—fuck, he’s lost his balance, he’s going to slip off and fall on his face like a bloody—

An arm slides around his torso, holding him up. A steady hand over the handle of his broom stops its lurching. Tom is barely breathing, his mind catching up to the fact that he’s not going to become one with the forest soil.

“Shit, Tom, I’m sorry, I thought you were ready, I should have warned you—”

Heart still finding the way back to its regular beat, Tom interrupts Potter’s rambling: “It’s fine. Nothing happened.”

“Well it was a stupid thing to do, and I won’t do it again,” Potter insists, wide eyes painfully green even in the dark.

“Just drop it, will you?” It’s embarrassing enough that he ran away from a Quaffle like it was the Killing Curse; Potter’s self-flagellation is just rubbing more salt on the wound. As if he hasn’t done it on purpose anyway, the fucking prick.

With a sigh, the arm around Tom tightens briefly before Potter releases him. “Do you want to stop? We’ve done a lot already. You’ve been great.”

More useless flattering.

“Let’s try again,” Tom orders. He wants to challenge Potter, confuse him, shock him, give him a lesson that he’ll never forget. The plan to ruin his reputation isn’t enough; the matter has become personal.

Uncertain, Potter nods. This time, when the Quaffle comes towards him Tom catches it, albeit unsteadily. A victorious glint in his eyes, he does his best to throw Potter off-balance by flinging the ball back at him.

The back-and-forth of the Quaffle between them slowly acquires a flow. Potter accepts Tom’s viciousness and in turn pushes Tom’s limits, building his reflexes with progressively more elaborate throws, flying around him in circles like an annoying snidget. Tom fumbles, stumbles, grumbles, but he manages to avoid another fall, and he even scores a few points through the unprotected goals.

By the end of the lesson they’re both sweating—disgusting—and Potter is positively radiating joy.

Tom can’t say the same about himself. His performance’s been nowhere near satisfactory, his dexterity and form nowhere near Potter’s. While he still holds no interest for Quidditch, he also can’t stand the thought that Potter can have this golden opportunity to gloat over him. There’s no way that Tom will accept being considered inferior to anyone.

“So, uh... how was it?” Potter asks once they’ve dismounted, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. It looks like a habit of his.

“You’ve been patient,” Tom concedes. It’s true, at least on the surface: Potter’s been nothing but helpful and tolerant of every mistake, adapting his teaching to Tom’s pace with flawless precision. “I could have done better.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Potter says, “will you stop with the self-deprecation? You’re learning. It’s all part of the process. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Tom hands the Nimbus back to Potter, who’s extinguishing the enchanted lights and reverting the goal posts back to their original shape. “You’ve also seen best, I reckon.”

Potter huffs in annoyance as he takes the broom and stores it away along with the rest of the equipment. “Yes, and it doesn’t matter. This isn’t a competition. The whole point of us being in the middle of the forest instead of the pitch is that you can be away from judgemental eyes, so could you please stop being your own worst critic?”

“We should go.” If Potter considers having standards the same as self-deprecation, then Tom has nothing else to say. “I can find my way back.” He turns to follow the hidden trail that led them here.

“Wait,” Potter says, interrupting Tom as he was about to cast a wordless Disillusionment Charm on himself. “Do you want to do this again? More lessons?”

Does Tom want to? Is the headache of spending time with Potter worth it?

Like a sharp edge, a thorn stuck in his side, Potter’s words echo in his head. This isn’t a competition. But it is, in a way—it’s Tom’s endurance against his desire to chalk up the whole plan as a failure and sweep it under the rug.

And Potter is still an issue—he still needs to go down in flames, and Tom is the one who has to ignite that fire.

He straightens his back. I won’t quit now. “Same time, next Saturday?”

“I’ll be here,” Potter says. It sounds like a promise.

##

[missing scene with Tom and snake-Harry]

##

At half past eleven on Saturday, Harry prepares to slip away from the Gryffindor dormitory under his Cloak.

“Ron, hey,” he whispers in the darkness of the dormitory, shaking his friend’s shoulder.

Still more than half-asleep, refusing to open his eyes, Ron mutters, “What?”

“I’m going out, will probably be late again. Don’t wait for me, okay?” He’s a little ashamed of taking advantage of Ron while he’s in this state, knowing that he won’t ask questions.

“Yeah, yeah—g’night, mate,” Ron says, words slurred as the dream world ensnares him again.

Then Harry leaves, sliding through the many corridors of the castle as if he were in his Animagus form, until he crosses the entrance; outside he can run, free, breathing in the cold wind that chills his face and lungs. He feels so light, like the world is full of exciting possibilities, like he’s on the hunt for something marvellous.

Yes, he hates hiding these nighttime escapades from his friends. However, he also loves the secret thrill of this undefined thing he and Tom have, this strange agreement that’s neither friendship nor rivalry, while not being neutral either. He knows, he can see that Tom—and how weird it is, that he already thinks of him as such—still despises him... yet he’s also invested in Harry in a way that goes beyond simple hatred or spite.

He could have used many excuses to get his hands on Harry’s Firebolt and sabotage it. He could have cursed Harry himself, especially with how close they’ve been, and Harry has no doubt that Tom possesses a sizable arsenal of slow-building, undetectable curses that would have sent Harry to his grave with no one the wiser.

But then, how absurd it is that Harry’s still not afraid to know that a part of Tom, a loud and powerful one, would rejoice in his pain and in having caused it?

He’s certain that Tom Riddle’s bite is deadly venomous, and he’s been thirsting for Harry’s blood for a long time. The bane of his existence, indeed.

Yet Harry saw something else during their time together: the fierce competitiveness, the stubbornness, the drive towards excellence, the desire to be greater than anyone... and also the insecurity, the self-loathing, the fear hidden behind harsh perfectionism, the sense of not being enough, of having to push himself harder, of not belonging anywhere, of being unloved and unlovable.

Tom Riddle is human and flawed. And he has bite, yes, but along with the venom comes a blazing fire that he keeps carefully concealed under his detached, polished façade. Harry wants to witness more of that fire, wants to bask in it, wants to revel in the privilege of being the one who can bring it out.

He knows what Tom could do, the potential of his cruelty. However, night after night, he discovers an inescapable curiosity for what Tom will do.

A laughter, full and thrilling, shakes Harry’s body as he skips through the forest, jumping over traitorous roots and avoiding thorn bushes intent on drawing blood.

Tom, of course, has already arrived.

Harry admires the transfigured goal posts, smoother and more symmetrical than how his own half-arsed magic would ever mold them, and thinks, This is going to be fun.

“Eager?” Harry can’t help but tease.

Tom gives him one of his looks. “I don’t like wasting time.”

“Of course. Let’s get to it, then.”

Like last time, Harry offers Tom his Nimbus; they warm up by playing with the Quaffle, letting Tom reacquaint himself with the feeling of flying by revisiting a few of the trickier turns. Tom’s control over the borrowed broomstick is still shaky and hesitant, which he clearly hates with a passion, but he’s also improved considerably in a small amount of time.

This may be the one thing in which Tom Riddle isn’t a natural. However, for some reason he’s actually putting in an effort to learn, which leaves Harry wondering why. Merlin knows Tom’s mind works in mysterious ways, and even after spending a few nights with him as a snake and witnessing his unfiltered rants Harry’s not closer to understanding his convoluted reasoning.

“Tonight I think you could try your hand at playing Keeper.”

Tom, always straight to the point, immediately flies towards the transfigured hoops and circles around them. “On a practical level, how is it different from playing Chaser, anyway? The ball is the same, it’s just a matter of catching it as we’ve already been doing.”

Harry feels an appraising smile rise on his lips. “Interesting question,” he replies, turning the Quaffle in his hands. “I believe the main difference is in the freedom of movement. As a Chaser, you can follow the trajectory and position of the Quaffle and other players in the way that’s most convenient for you, while as a Keeper you have to stay in a confined area, since leaving the goals unguarded equals failure. You need sharper eyes and quicker reflexes, which is why I considered it more advanced.”

“But the smaller area should make it easier, not harder,” Tom says with a small frown.

“Theory is theory, practice is practice. You’ll see by yourself.”

“Let’s begin, then.” He looks impatient, and Harry privately thinks that it’s kind of adorable. Perhaps my love for Quidditch is rubbing off on him. Or perhaps he’s just that competitive.

So Harry begins throwing and Tom begins to understand Harry’s point as the Quaffle slides under his guard and passes easily through the hoops time after time. With sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, eyes aflame and gritted teeth, Tom struggles to prevent Harry’s craftiness from allowing him to score yet another point. He’s only managed to catch five out of twenty-four throws.

“You have to keep in mind that I’m not an actual Chaser myself,” Harry says, immensely enjoying the murderous look on Tom’s face. “This could be way worse.”

Tom stills, holding the ball as if he wants to strangle it. “You do so love to make fun of me,” he snarls. “Idiot Tom Riddle, who’s never learned to play Quidditch, who can’t even catch a bloody Quaffle. Must be so nice to sit on your throne and laugh at my pathetic attempts.”

The aggressiveness in Tom’s tone makes Harry feel all kinds of ruffled, and perhaps he should be keeping his mouth shut, but when has he ever listened to reason? So he says, “I thought you had more spine than this, for someone who sits on his throne and laughs at others all the time.”

“What?” Tom says, eyes narrow and voice sharp as a potioneer’s blade.

“You heard me. Is it fun, being an arsehole to Hermione and who knows how many others? How does it feel when you are the one whose efforts feel inadequate, Tom?”

“It’s Riddle, to you.”

“Well then, Riddle: how does it feel? And mind you, I was teasing you as I would with a friend, but I could also be cruel and cutting like you. I could get on the same level of ‘polite bastard’ you seem to revel in.”

The look Tom gives him is utterly blank, which could be seen as an improvement over being murderous, or could also mean that he’s so much more murderous than usual that he’s already on the phase where he’s choosing how to dispose of Harry’s body.

Harry sighs. This is all pointless. Tom hates him, will always hate him, and they’re just dancing around each other waiting for the perfect opportunity to... what? Tom is most likely waiting for Harry to lower his guard enough for him to strike undetected, but what does Harry want? What’s his excuse for being here?

Perhaps this time his curiosity is better left alone.

“Forget what I just said. I’ve been an arsehole,” Harry says. “We don’t have to do this if you’re so frustrated it makes you miserable.”

“Is this what you think of me? That I go around lording my knowledge over people?” Tom doesn’t sound angry—he just stares at Harry like he’s speaking in a different language.

“From what I’ve seen of you... well, yes,” Harry says, uncertain. He feels like this whole conversation is balancing on a very delicate thread. “It’s not overt, but you do act superior and rub your grades on other people’s faces, with those condescending smirks and such... and I don’t believe that you don’t do that on purpose.”

“I—do that,” Tom admits quietly, almost disturbed by the revelation. Even more interesting, he appears to be honestly considering it. “Perhaps... it’s a bit excessive.”

“We all know you’re the most skilled student in this school anyway. It’s not just about grades—you clearly have a touch, a passion for magic that can’t be found in books and that most of us can’t hope to replicate.”

Tom’s eyes catch Harry’s then, a blazing intensity passing between them that makes Harry feel… funny. “You’re telling the truth. You do think that.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not coming from you.”

Harry frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You—” Tom pauses, raking a hand through his already mussed-up hair. He looks more unbuttoned than Harry’s ever seen him. “I’m not sure.”

“That you wanted to murder me in my sleep, probably,” Harry says unthinkingly. He knows that Tom has never been confused on his opinion of Harry; he’s heard enough dramatics when Tom’s spoken to him as Ezra, long tales on how insufferable Harry is, and how much of an attention-seeker, how brainless and privileged, and so on.

Surprisingly, Tom laughs. It’s brief, blink-and-you’ll miss it, but it’s happened.

Tom Riddle has laughed.

“I might have considered it, yes,” Tom confesses, not even remotely apologetic.

Harry is shocked and more charmed than he’d like to admit. “I don’t know what to do with this sudden honesty.”

Tom shakes his head, and he’s still smiling—not smirking, but smiling—and he looks as unbalanced as Harry feels. “Neither do I.” He locks eyes with Harry, and for a few brief seconds there’s that intensity again; then he breaks the spell to Accio the Quaffle from where he’d dropped it. “Let me try again.”

“Sure,” Harry says, quietly thrilled.

##

[missing scene with Tom and snake-Harry]

##

The trunk containing Potter’s Quidditch equipment sits on the forest floor, lid open. Tom studies the set of chained Bludgers and lifts an eyebrow. “Last time you said that in this lesson I was supposed to ‘learn my way around a Beater’s bat’.” The unspoken question of why Potter hasn’t handed him any bat yet hangs in the air.

“Yeah, I said that, but then I realised that Bludgers might not be the best idea right now,” Potter admits, shrugging. “You’re probably already familiar with how they work from a spectator’s point of view, but this is another instance of theory being very different from practice.”

“In short, you believe I’m not able to undertake this particular task,” Tom says. Of course Potter wouldn’t consider him worthy enough for the scary, angry balls, not when Tom still struggles with inconsistent balance and shaky steering at the best of times. Furthermore, Potter’s famed superior abilities allow him to keenly judge the depth of Tom’s incompetency and find him wanting.

Unimpressed by Tom’s logic, Potter rolls his eyes. “Is it necessary for you to be so dramatic?”

“Don’t bother with lying. We both know it’s the truth,” Tom insists. He has no patience for this display of futile denial.

“It’s a distorted version of the truth, so you can beat yourself up for not being perfect enough, or some crap along those lines. Yes, it’s probably not safe for you to engage with Bludgers yet. No, it doesn’t mean that you’re useless of whatever you’re telling yourself.”

“You seem awfully confident in your ability to interpret my thoughts.” Out of ingrained habit, Tom reinforces his Occlumency shields. While it’s unlikely that Potter has the wits and finesse to master the delicate art of Legilimency, he’s also revealed himself to be unpredictable in many occasions. Better safe than sorry.

“Maybe you’re just obvious,” Potter says dismissively, before tapping his wand on the small set of chains that holds the Golden Snitch in place at the center of the trunk. The ball springs free, only for Potter to catch it immediately with practiced ease and a gleam in his eyes that promises nothing good for Tom. “Tonight we’re Seeking.”

“Will the Snitch’s movements be restricted to this clearing, or will we have to follow its path amongst the trees?”

“Only the clearing,” Potter confirms with a small smile.

Tom lets his gaze roam to evaluate the length and breadth of the space. The shiny surface of the ball would be easily discernible against the dark background. “Seems feasible.”

The smile on Potter’s face grows wider. “Let’s begin, then.”

What followed were blurred hours of Tom fumbling his way through sharp turns, desperately trying to keep himself from losing his grip, then losing it anyway at every attempt to catch the blasted ball, then trying to regain his balance, then remembering to loosen his posture, then failing at commanding his limbs to go on a single direction, thus dipping downwards at uncontrollable speed until he would have surely eaten grass if not for Potter’s steadying hand.

Once they finally touch the ground, Tom flings away Potter’s broom, rage painting his world in red. He doesn’t give a single fuck about the bloody stick of wood and the bloody Snitch, he’s bruised all over the place and he’s sick of this, he won’t stand a single second of humiliating himself any further, he’s utterly and completely done. “How do you fucking do this?” Tom roars. “Why would you willingly subject yourself to this torture?”

“Uh, T—Riddle—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Tom goes on, ignoring him. “Why I even considered to accept this whole ordeal as if it deserves any of my time.”

“Riddle, I told you, this isn’t an obligation,” Potter says. “We can stop, it’s okay.” He’s dismounted too, and he stands there, slowly and cautiously inching towards Tom.

‘It’s okay’—as if Tom needs to be soothed or, worse, coddled. The infantilising undertones make Tom want to tear Potter to shreds. There’s a Cruciatus on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be unleashed, waiting for him to reap Potter’s pain for witnessing Tom making a fool of himself and daring to treat him like a volatile child. I doubt he’ll be so entertained when he’s contorting on the ground, screaming his lungs out, he thinks savagely, extracting his wand from its holster.

As the first syllable of the curse leaves Tom’s mouth, red light charging on the tip of his wand, Potter is fast—he crouches and rolls away from its trajectory, touching down over the stone in the middle of the clearing and drawing up a Shield Charm strong enough that Tom can hear it crackling like lightning. “What the fuck, Riddle?” he snaps, but there’s no surprise or fear on his face, only the sharp focus of a seasoned duellist.

Unfortunately for Potter, a mere Shield Charm isn’t enough to deter Tom; many Dark curses are designed to eat through them like a parchment set aflame. He smiles, all teeth, and Potter seems to sense his intentions, eyes narrowing.

Then the unthinkable happens.

Potter casts non-verbally at the same time Tom’s spell almost strikes home; the jets of their magic meet in midair and twine together in a single stream of pure gold light. Birdsong erupts, filling the space with an otherworldly melody, while luminous threads of magic are birthed from the stream like a spiderweb, surrounding Tom and Harry in a dome until the forest disappears beyond the shimmering brilliance.

What in Salazar’s name is this?

The entirety of Tom’s world is reduced to this moment in time, to Potter’s green eyes reflecting the light. Mesmerised, Tom watches as beads of light appear in the stream of their magic. His wand vibrates and he clutches it harder; the beads gets closer and closer to its tip, and Tom feels the light whispering at him to accept sanctuary in its song, to let it wash away his anger, to cease fighting, to surrender, and his whole body becomes weightless, being gently lifted from the ground by this invisible, absurd, liminal force—

And suddenly it ends.

The light disappears, leaving them to adjust to the night again: the link has been broken. Tom aches for it, deep in his bones. He can already tell how the echoes of that melody will haunt him for many nights to come.

He and Potter stare at each other, feet back on the ground, eyes wide, breathless and at a loss for words.

“What was that?” Tom breathes. “What did you do?”

Potter shakes his head, bewildered. “I have no clue. I just—stopped it.”

“You stopped it?”

“I think so.” Potter crawls towards a point to his side, scanning the grass back and forth until he recovers his wand from where he must have lost it when he interrupted the contact.

“Why?” Tom asks, unable to keep the word inside his still pounding chest. Why would you commit such a blasphemous act?

“Because—whatever it was, I’m not sure either of us was prepared for it.” He’s holding Tom’s gaze, straight on, in a way that reaches deep under his skin.

Unnerved, Tom skims the surface of Potter’s mind and finds a confusing jumble of... something. Too many somethings, all swirling in dizzying patterns. Wonder, doubt, curiosity, wariness, joy—all underlined by the same pure bliss that has enveloped Tom under the dome.

This magic is messing with my senses. “Don’t speak to me ever again. We’re done,” Tom says, with as much vicious strength as he can muster, rising on wobbly legs.

Potter sits in the grass and says nothing, making no move to stop him.

Tom can feel the weight of his gaze all the way to the castle. Once he reaches the dungeons, the Slytherin common room and finally his own bed, he realises how not a single part of his plan has worked out as expected.

His wand, who’s been a faithful companion since he was eleven, has acted in a way that was absolutely mystifying. Still shivering with the residue of that golden magic that doesn’t let go of his limbs, Tom performs a series of spells only to have the proof of what he already expected: the wand responds as usual and nothing is out of the ordinary—not now, not anymore. But if that unreal... thing wasn’t a malfunction, or caused by a curse, then what was it? He’s never heard of anything like it.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Tom’s out of his depth.

He thought he’d ruin Potter’s reputation, only to end up tired, bruised, with his magic acting up unpredictably and his thoughts scrambled beyond recognition. He thought he would teach Potter a lesson, and yet he lost himself in birdsong and light, giving away his power like an utter fool, until Potter was the one to separate them. And isn’t it funny that the reckless Gryffindor poster boy was the one who acted appropriately, while Tom has been too weak, too compromised? Weak, his mind provides.

How could it all have gone so wrong? How could Tom have lost the guidance of his own compass so completely?

For the briefest of moments, he wishes for Ezra’s presence; the snake has no interest in what he calls ‘complicated human affairs’, and his snark would help to keep Tom grounded. And isn’t this another sign of Tom’s weakness, to need another—an animal—to recover his balance?

He rubs his eyes, feeling both keyed-up and drained to the bone. A restless night awaits him.

However, he refuses to surrender to the hold of these thoughts. It’s completely useless to wallow in defeat and waste any more time contemplating this utter failure. Whatever happens next, whatever stunt Potter pulls that could interfere with Tom’s position in Slytherin, he’ll deal with it. Tom is cunning and capable enough to adapt to what fate has in store for him, as he’s always done.

He digs into his potion stash for a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Potter can rot.

##

Harry crosses for the millionth time the opening sentence of his Potions essay. His parchment has turned into a blot of ink and he sighs, his wand to vanish the black stain. Then, he stares at the blank scroll, mind empty of coherent thoughts, unable to string together the meaning of a single line in the open book before him.

“I need help,” he finally says to Hermione, almost begging. They’re sitting, along with Ron, in their usual corner of the library. “I know, I know, I should write my own essay, but this isn’t—Hermione?” Harry hesitates, as he sees her casting a sturdy Muffliato around their table, the usual sign that a serious conversation was about to happen. Harry shoots a questioning look at Ron, but for once his friend appears to be on the same page as Hermione, leaving Harry out of the loop.

“Harry,” Hermione begins, with a concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows, “what’s going on? You’ve been distracted and spacing out for days, like you can’t focus on anything. It’s the third time you’ve asked for my help this week—even with difficult assignments, it’s not usually that bad.” She’s studying Harry’s face like she would a particularly complex Arithmancy equation, looking for the familiar tells that will betray his secrets.

Even though he knows perfectly well that she’s right, and that he did in fact intend to have one of those conversations, Harry protests on principle: “It’s Potions, you know how much I struggle with it! These essays are an absolute nightmare!”

“Yeah, mate, but maybe it would help if you read from the Potions book, instead of the Defense one,” Ron suggests, tapping his index finger on Harry’s book.

Harry stares at him, mild horror creeping up on his face, before letting his eyes fall on the book. He closes it and, sure enough, the battered cover doesn’t lie. “Fuck,” he says, defeated. He pushes up his glasses to rub at his face. “No wonder it didn’t make sense.”

Unlike Hermione, Ron doesn’t seem bothered by Harry’s behaviour; he shakes his head in playful disbelief, but he seems more curious than worried, which is relieving.

“So, what is it?” Hermione says.

Here it is, the moment Harry’s been dreading since this whole ordeal with Tom has started: telling the truth to his friends.

Like many other times, he doesn’t have a proper explanation for acting the way he does; in true Marauder fashion, he’d just acted on impulse, following the trail of fun. Unlike those other times, however, an explanation will be needed at some point.

This doesn’t mean that he isn’t also feeling quite defensive about this particular issue. After all, it’s not just about him; this is Tom’s business as much as it’s Harry’s, and Hermione won’t be happy to discover that her rival is involved. Harry still isn’t prepared for the fuss she will undoubtedly kick up.

And of course, predictable as the sunrise, Ron asks: “Is this because of whatever you’ve been doing when you sneak out at night?”

“Why are you being so secretive, Harry?” Hermione questions, leaning forwards and lowering her voice even though the Muffling Charm protects them from eavesdroppers. “Are you doing something that could get you expelled?”

“Hermione, I do things that could get me thrown in Azkaban on the regular.” Like being an unregistered Animagus, for instance.

And isn’t that another guilt-flavoured train of thought? The list of people that will need an explanation does include Tom himself. He’s warming up to Ezra in a way that he would have never allowed if he were aware of who hid behind the snake’s form. Yeah, Harry can’t say he’s looking forward to confessing that particular secret to Tom. After all, how can Harry admit to him that’s listened to his unfiltered rants and musings without Tom murdering him in cold blood? The Slytherin is already mistrustful enough, and lying by omission is one of the most dangerous things Harry could do, especially considering that Tom is a Legilimens.

Hermione waves an impatient hand to dismiss Harry’s point, snapping his attention back to the conversation. “You know what I mean, and you’re deflecting.”

Harry begins to open his mouth, but before he’s figured out what he’s going to say Hermione interrupts him again, voice gone soft: “Did you break up with your partner?”

“My what?” Again, Harry looks at Ron and finds none of the confusion he expects on his face.

“You have been disappearing a lot,” Ron offers with an half-shrug. “It was the most obvious conclusion.”

Harry gapes, stunned by the turn the conversation has taken. “Did you two really think that I have a secret lover? Why in the name of Merlin would I hide that?” If only they knew who my supposed ‘lover’ is. And isn’t that a thought, Tom being anyone’s lover, and Harry’s lover to boot? It’s too absurd, too unthinkable to even consider.

Yes, Harry can admit that Tom is handsome, and that he certainly doesn’t lack admirers; even with his poor eyesight, he’s not that ignorant of the Slytherin’s charms. However, Tom’s usual regal demeanour creates a distance between him and the rest of the world. Like a marble statue, Tom Riddle is meant to be admired while staying unreachable, and Harry can’t imagine him letting his shields down for anyone.

Except he did with me. Harry has been a witness to Tom’s temper, his cruelty, his smile. As obstinate as Tom has been with his will to drag Harry into the mud and his constant misinterpretation of Harry’s motives, he’s also let Harry see unflattering, vulnerable sides of him that many others would kill for.

How did that happen? What does this say about us?

“You’re spacing out again,” Hermione sighs. “But if it’s not a secret lover, then what is this all about?”

“I’ve been seeing someone. Not in that way,” he adds, before they can say anything. “But we kind of, uh, had a disagreement, and our magic reacted strangely and I was wondering if you knew something about it that I don’t.”

At the mention of an intellectual debate Hermione perks up, her posture instantly straightening. Harry tells them an abridged version of what happened in the clearing, glossing over the more incriminating details that could reveal Tom’s identity or the reason behind their fight.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve read about something like this before,” Hermione says, tapping her index finger to her lips. She bends to the side to rummage inside her magically expanded bag where she keeps a ridiculous amount of books—though Harry has to admit that, on occasions like this, having a portable library does come in handy. “I believe it was on a wandlore book I got last year. It’s hard to find any useful information on the subject because wandmaking is passed on through apprenticeship and very few masters have bothered writing down their knowledge, but I lucked on this tome that was gathering dust on a corner at Flourish and Blott’s, I’m fairly sure they didn’t even remember having it—ah, here it is!” she exclaims, showing them an ancient leatherbound volume whose title has faded completely. After a few minutes of leafing through the yellowed pages, she says: “I was right! Priori Incantatem, an extremely rare phenomenon that manifests when two practitioners bearing twin wands—that is, wands with the twin cores—attempt a duel.”

“So my... acquaintance’s wand has a phoenix feather core like mine?”

Hermione studies the book again. “Not just any phoenix feather, apparently. It has to be a feather from the same phoenix as yours, which I guess is why most wands don’t have a twin at all, or never meet their twin.” She lifts her gaze from the page to meet Harry’s eyes with her bright ones. “Harry, who is this person? This could be an amazing opportunity to study something that—”

“I can’t tell you, and they made it very clear that they don’t want me to speak to them ever again,” Harry says. Classes with the Slytherins have been... something. While outwardly nothing had changed between them, as they’d never interacted in the first place, Harry could feel the spiky coldness radiating from Tom as if it were alive and ready for him to try and cross it.

“But mate,” Ron interjects, gesturing vaguely at Harry, “wouldn’t they like to know about this? If my wand started shooting weird golden light during a duel, I’d be freaking out and thinking that my magic isn’t working or something like that.”

“I think they’re perfectly capable of researching this on their own.” Maybe that’s the reason behind their odd connection. Their wands... attract them to each other, or something.

Would Tom even want to know? The truth is... Ron is right. Someone like Tom, who prides himself on knowing everything and always being in control, must have been utterly shaken by his magic going haywire all of a sudden.

Harry’s choice is made.

##

A week after the last encounter with Potter, Ezra reappears in the dungeons just as Tom’s Prefect rounds come to an end.

Tom wonders at the snake’s ability to be so precise about his routine. Ready to cage his wayward almost-but-not-quite familiar again, this time with no intention of letting go, Tom lifts his wand in lieu of a greeting.

“Put that away, human,” Ezra hisses, and his tone is enough to still Tom’s tongue. He sounds stiff, his muscles tight and struggling against his obvious distress.

Eyes narrowing, Tom asks: “What happened to you?” If someone had dared to hurt his snake...

“Too many questions.”

“That was one question.”

“Pointless details. Follow me,” Ezra commands, before slithering down the dimly lit corridor, wasting no time to check if Tom is going after him.

Tom curses under his breath. Disrespectful, disobedient creature. He casts a silent Disillusionment Charm over himself and trails behind the sinuous shadow; the snake avoids the treacherous staircases, leading Tom behind faded tapestries and secret passages that he’s never encountered before. Spelling away the cobwebs to prevent them from sticking to his skin and hair, Tom finds himself thinking that not even Potter would have discovered these places—then banishes the reminder of Potter’s existence from his head entirely. The bastard doesn’t deserve a single crumb of his attention.

At this point he’s also wondering if Ezra is trying to get him in trouble on purpose. While the snake has never been particularly talkative and often acts oddly even by reptile standards, this mysterious demeanour is unusual and bordering on suspicious.

Ezra halts in front of a familiar, half-open bathroom door, flicking his tongue at the air; then, apparently satisfied, he slides inside.

More and more confused by this bizarre pseudo-adventure, Tom follows.

Once they’re under the greenish, dim light of the Chamber of Secrets, surrounded by snake-decorated pillars that hold up the vast ceiling, Ezra melts into the shadows and disappears from sight. The last shreds of Tom’s patience evaporate. “Ezra, what is going on?” he barely refrains from shouting.

He hears rustling from behind him, and when he turns in the direction of the sound his eyes fall on the pavement. There’s a book in front of him that hadn’t been there before. The cover is clearly old, black and unassuming, but it means very little for Tom. Wary, he extracts his wand. The Chamber is not a place in which one can trust random books appearing out of thin air.

It’s enough to distract him.

“Incarcerous,” a voice says—a treacherous, insufferable voice—and Tom is bound and constricted by ropes of warm magic that bring him to his knees. As if the humiliation wasn’t enough, he watches, powerless, as Potter waltzes in his field of vision and oh-so-casually disarms him.

“You utter bastard,” Tom snarls, like a flesh-eating curse, “release me.” The spell holds strong against his attempts to free himself wandlessly.

With a grin that shows too many teeth, Potter replies airily, “I don’t think I will. We have a lot of things to discuss, you see, and I don’t fancy being hexed.” His gaze turns sharp and he crouches in front of Tom, mockingly. “Besides, you deserve a little taste of your own medicine. Going around caging random snakes? Very rude, Tom.”

“What have you done to my snake?” No ropes will protect Potter from Tom’s ire. His magic is beginning to flare up, warming his skin, ready to set ablaze everything on its path.

Potter feels it, but all he does is sit cross-legged before Tom, unbothered. “Your snake?” he laughs.

“I caught him. He’s mine.”

“Putting me in a glass case and having a few one-sided conversations about how much you hate me is hardly enough to call me yours.”

Tom’s thoughts screech to a halt. The implication behind Potter’s words dawns on him, like curtains closing at the end of a play. It can’t be true, can it? Tom couldn’t have been so foolish—but wasn’t he the one who’s compared Ezra to Potter more than once? Oh, the irony. The cruelty of his misplaced belief that he could be himself with anyone, even an animal.

And then, Potter’s face opens, and his expression morphs into a genuine smile. Something travels down Tom’s spine at the sight. “You’re surprisingly warm, though. And you smell good under that posh cologne,” he says.

“You knew,” Tom says. “You knew all along that I wanted to sabotage you. That I despise you.”

“Yes.”

“You had no right.”

“You put me in a difficult position, Tom. On one hand, I was very aware of the fact that I was taking advantage of you; on the other hand, however... what was I supposed to do? Let you harm me out of the goodness of my heart? I’m not that self-sacrificing.”

[ynscrazylife]

Hi, I love your work & was wondering if you could do a post Hogwarts Hermione x Reader? Reader is a Hufflepuff alumni who plays on the Holyhead Harpies with Ginny & meets Hermione through her. She knew Hermione in passing at Hogwarts but doesn't really get to know her until she's properly introduced by Ginny. Thanks & sorry for the long ask. 😀

Thank you so much! Hope you like it. Also, no need to apologize for the long ask. The more detailed the better! Makes it so I can really make sure I’m writing what you want.

Quidditch Brings People Together

Summary: Hermione is picking Ginny up from her Holyhead Harpeis practice, but soon becomes enchanted by one of Ginny’s teammates.

(Trumblr is blocking the Hermione gif I have no clue why)

“Where are you going?” Ron asked his best friend as he leaned against her doorway, peering into her and his sister’s shared room at The Burrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stood in front of the mirror, pulling her hair back. “For your information, I’m picking Ginny up from her Quidditch practice and we’re going to have a girls night,” she answered, glancing at him in the mirror.

Ron thought for a moment and then leaned over the stairway’s banister. “Harry! Hermione’s stealing your girlfriend!” He hollered.

“Ronald Weasley, do not shout in this house!” Came Molly Weasley’s reply. Hermione smirked to herself.

“Yeah, Ron!” George said from down the hall.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to his friend, but Hermione just left her room, all ready, and patted the ginger on the shoulder.

————————————————

Hermione smiled as she opened her eyes and found that she had successfully Apparated to the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch practice. This was her first time, but landing on a grass field and seeing brooms whizzing around not too far away filled her with confidence. The brunette picked up her pace and soon she came upon the players on the brooms and some stands off to the side.

Seeing as she had arrived a little early, Hermione went and sat on one of the stands and looked around. Soon, she spotted her friend, a Quaffle tucked under her arm as she sped towards the three hoops.

Hermione smiled as she watched the game. Even if she didn’t play, she loved watching. It was always a thrill to watch at Hogwarts, but Hermione couldn’t help but enjoy the calmness this provided rather than the cheering and shoving of the Hogwarts students.

Ginny got closer to the hoops and Hermione had watched Ginny enough times to know what was going to happen. Ginny would use her classic chaser move of faking the keeper out. She started by diving down and faking a throw up, swerving drastically, zooming up and as she did that, she went for an underhand throw, first faking it to the bottom hoop and then actually throwing the Quaffle into the middle hoop.

Hermione expected Ginny to be successful, as she always was with that trick, but instead . . . The Keeper blocked it! This was one of the few times you could surprise the brunette witch, and she looked to see who the Keeper was.

Hermione actually . . . Recognized her. Oh! That was Y/N, a Hufflepuff alumni. She and Y/N had been paired up in Potions once and wow, she was beautiful. Hermione couldn’t contain her smile, not quite understanding what this sudden rush of happiness and giddiness was.

Suddenly, Hermione forgot about the whole reason she had come here. She was fixated on Y/N, watching her defend the hoops with a brilliant smile. Hermione didn’t even realize practice was over until shs saw Y/N flying down to the ground, and she suddenly sat up, alert.

The Witch quickly got to the grass and saw Ginny marching towards her, smiling, and couldn’t help but search for Y/N. Y/N was standing a couple feet away, talking to the two Beaters and the Team Captain.

“Hey, ’Mione!” Ginny said, reaching her friend.

“Hi, Ginny,” Hermione said, giving the younger woman a brief hug. “You played great!”

“Thank you-” Ginny was in the middle of saying when they both got distracted by a graceful laugh from behind.

They both looked over to see Y/N laughing at something one of the Beaters said, and just like that, Hermione was enchanted again. She blushed, and it didn’t take long for Ginny to notice. Getting an idea, the Chaser excused herself for a moment.

“Y/N, may I borrow you for a moment?” Ginny cut into her and her teammate’s conversation. Y/N nodded.

“Y/N, I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Hermione. Hermione, this is my friend and teammate, Y/N,” Ginny said, bringing Y/N over to where Hermione stood.

The Muggle-Born nearly fainted on the spot!

“Yeah, hi. We, uh, were paired up in Potions once,” Hermione said. Ginny smirked. She had never seen her friend so smitten before, and disecretly moved away so they could get to know each other.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. God, I would have defiantly failed that assignment if not for you,” she recalled, chuckling.

Hermione grinned. “How are you doing? It’s great that you’re on the Holyhead Harpes,” she said, desperately wanting to continue the conversation and grasping at anything to do that.

“It’s my dream come true!” Y/N said, getting excited. Her eyes lit up and Hermione felt herself falling even more for the woman in front of her. “It’s so great. How are you with your work in the Ministry?”

“Just wonderful. I feel like I’m really making a difference, which is what I always wanted to do,” Hermione said, grinning.

Y/N matched her smile, but she suddenly scanned the space around her, seeing Ginny with their other teammates. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry. You must have come here for Ginny and I’m just getting in your way-” she suddenly rambled, and moved to leave, but Hermione suddenly placing a hand on her arm stopped her.

There was about half a second of silence until Hermione snatched her hand away. “I’m sorry, I just . . . Well you don’t need to leave. I really enjoy your company and you’re quite . . . Pretty,” she said.

Y/N couldn’t help but blush herself, biting her lip. Butterflies had rushed into her stomach when she felt Hermione’s hand against her skin, and suddenly she longed for the brunette to hold her, or maybe even kiss her . . .

“I . . . Would you, maybe, like to go on a d-date sometimes?” Y/N asked, forcing herself to look up at Hermione’s gorgeous brown eyes. She stuttered a tiny bit from her sudden nerves.

Hermione’s jaw drppped for just a moment there. “I’d love that,” she said with a goofy smile, composing herself quickly

[lunarfly]

Ok so I decided to finally post the promised: defending Romione (🥺💗💕💖💞💘) against Dr*mione (ಠಿ_ಠ) shippers.

So I've read a few posts about Dr*mione shippers, talking about why their ship is amazing (which had nothing to do with canon btw) and bashing Ron (for no reason) and I'm literally shaking out of anger.

Here are my thoughts:

1. "Ron is too dumb for hermione"

Stop- Just-

Stop.

RON IS NOT DUMB.

Yes, he might not be very interested in school subjects, but 👏 that 👏 doesn't 👏 mean 👏 he 👏 is 👏 dumb 👏.

He is actually very smart! He beat McGonagall's chess game, he is logical and quick-thinking. There's MANY examples of this that I won't name right now, but it's a canonical fact. Ron. Is. Not. Dumb.

And consider he was dumb. So? Would that stop Romione from happening? NO! Hermione didn't mind Ron not being smart. She was just upset that Ron was lazy and wouldn't study anything until the last minute. She wanted to get both Harry and Ron to study according to a schedule.

Is it clear? Intelligence doesn't determine love.

**And this is something that confuses me. This doesn't have anything to do with the point, but why does nobody realize that Harry isn't much smarter than Ron? Yes, he was better at DADA but that requires TALENT, not intelligence. And I'm pretty sure we all know that Ron is talented as well (hopefully everyone realizes that). Nobody uses the fact that Harry wasn't intelligent against Harmione, but everyone uses the fact that Ron wasn't intelligent against Romione. The double standards tear apart the fandom.

2. "Ron bought hermione perfume and Draco could get her something better."

Soooo, you're saying that just because Ron didn't have the money that Draco had means that Hermione didn't deserve Ron?

Wow, this just says a lot about you dr*mione shippers. You only care about the money that Draco has, not his personality. You don't like Ron because he's poor (and I know how FanFics give the "kind Draco" Ron's canon personality so the only "problem" with Ron is his looks and lack of money). And you don't see Hermione nor Ron the way they are. This "point" of yours is literally stating that Hermione should be a gold-digger and get Draco because he can get her the expensive presents that she deserves. Yikes.

3. "Draco can understand the emotional side of Hermione while Ron can't."

Wait

What?

WHERE DO YOU GET THIS IDEA FROM-

Draco is only EVER concerned about his own self, he is a NARCISSIST. He would NEVER care for someone (let alone Hermione) as purely and truly as he cared about himself. He didn't even care about Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson etc. He was selfish. The only reason he could express his emotions was because he had to go through a lot since he realized that killing Dumbledore wasn't as easy as bullying Hermione. This would never ever work.

And even if Ron didn't understand her as much, he STILL comforted her. Take the beginning chapters of The Deathly Hallows as an example. You'll see.

4. "Ron is too immature."

I need help.

Of course Ron was immature when he was 11!! Yes, he acted immaturely many times, yes, he made many mistakes, but guess what? He changed! He changed for Hermione!! Draco didn't change at all, not for Hermione, nor for anyone else. He remained the same bratty bully.

If you could reread the books and read prisoner of azkaban vs deathly hallows, you will definitely see how much Ron has matured. He doesn't argue with Hermione anymore, he comforts her, he's there for her. Yes, he made a mistake but he was manipulated by the horcrux! We don't blame Ginny for what tom riddle's diary made her do, do we? So stop blaming Ron!

Anyways, I think if dr*mione shippers have read the books, they'll know what I'm talking about when I say Ron changed for Hermione. I honestly don't know how you could miss Ron's character arc.

5. "Ron would be jealous of the brilliant Hermione."

What?

If I remember correctly, the reason Draco bullied the trio was because he was jealous of them. His jealousy turned into a 7 year torture for the trio and now you're saying that Ron is the jealous one? Please.

But anyways, Ron has been jealous of Harry and has made a few mistakes. But there are reasons behind them and I can defend him for each of these with arguments other than "everyone makes mistakes" (cough cough* Draco stans* cough cough).

First of all, Ron has admitted being jealous of Harry's fame because he lives with 5 older brothers who outshine him. But that's not really a mistake because he never let it get in his way. There were only 2 situations in 7 years when he left Harry out of jealousy but I think these have different explainations.

No1 Ron left in goblet of fire. I think the real reason that Ron let his jealousy get in his way this time, was not only because Harry got to participate in the tournament which could bring him eternal glory, but more likely because he was disappointed that his own best friend didn't even tell him that he was entering and didn't even help him participate (which wasn't true, but Ron thought so back then).

No2 Ron left in deathly hallows. This one was 100% because of the horcrux and I think we should all accept this by now and stop hating on Ron for being affected by dark magic.

And just like that, Ron never let his jealousy get in his way of friendships. I can't think of a situation where Ron is jealous of the brilliant Hermione so if you remember, please let me know so I can argue against it. <3

6. "Ron and Hermione would break up and remain friends, it's easy to imagine because they didn't have a strong relationship."

This was actually said, someone actually said this-

I'm just going to say that Ron and Hermione are happily married to this day (which definitely proves that their relationship is strong) and give the dr*mione community a moment of silence.

7. "Ron didn't do anything for Hermione and was just a jerk."

Coming from a person who has read and reread the books multiple times, I can assure you that Ron did many things for Hermione.

Of course, he was immature at first, he was mean to her, but slowly he started seeing more of the good in Hermione and started changing for her.

And even when he was immature, he still cared about Hermione and would protect her no matter what.

Let's remember how many times rubbish Ron stood up for Hermione against the brilliant bully Draco. 🥰

Let's remember how cowardly Ronald faced his fears of spiders to help Hermione (and the rest of the school, just how jerkier can he get?). 🥰

Let's remember how ridiculous Ronniekins stood up for Hermione against sensational Snape and got himself into detention (oh yes, this is the book version of the movie moment where Ron agrees with Snape about Hermione being an 'insufferable know-it-all'). 🥰

Let's remember how rotten Ronny comforted Hermione when she was worried about Hagrid and Buckbeak (and he even let her hug him and cry on his shoulder, how rude). 🥰

Let's remember how revolting Ronald sacrificed himself to save Harry and Hermione in the chess game. 🥰

Let's remember how horrendous Ron attempted to hex Draco when he used a slur that was meant to offend Hermione. 🥰

Keep in mind that all of these were done when Ron was still immature and still argued a lot with Hermione.

And these aren't even all.

8. "Ron and Hermione have a loveless marriage."

What the-

I'm sorry, I'm trying to be respectful here but this is crap. And the fact that the person said they also had "proof" from the c*rsed ch*ld but didn't want to spoil it-

As much as I hate the c*rsed ch*ld, I can tell you that it did its job portraying Ron and Hermione's unconditional love. Even in alternative realities, where they didn't get married, they were still in love.

And why would you even think that Ron and Hermione would marry and have kids if they didn't love each other? I need explainations.

Next.

9. "Ron never listens to Hermione."

I'm sorry, what? I'm genuinely confused??

What do you even mean by this? Yeah, they used to argue a lot, and? Ron thinks Hermione is brilliant and wonderful and he follows her advice. I can't recall a moment where Ron won't listen to Hermione, doesn't agree with her and ruins her plans. Anyone else?

Since this one is a big mess and a confusion, I'll move on to the next one until someone explains the points and arguments.

10. "Draco could make Hermione laugh while Ron couldn't."

....

Do I really need to say anything for this one?

Ron was the funniest one from the trio, that's why Harry enjoyed his company so much! Don't you remember the line in goblet of fire where Harry thinks about how much he misses having Ron as his best friend, because without him there's less fun and less laughs? I do.

But what I don't remember is finding Draco's sense of humor funny. I'm sorry but his intellectual level is almost as low as Crabbe and Goyle's. His insults are none other than Potty and Weaselbee, he only got 3 O.W.L.s and all of his jokes were stupid and dumb and their only purpose was insulting people he was jealous of.

These fanfics have rotten people's brains...😬

Anyways, I'm going to stop here. I've delayed this post for very long and I'm so excited to finally post it!

I read a book on wattpad by a dr*mione shipper and it was nothing but a giant headache. That's where I got all of these statements from. Most of the garbage in the book revolved around Draco and Hermione being inseparable and getting over all obstacles (wth) and other stupid stuff like that which really annoyed me. The book was called "why we love dr*mione" and it was by Bittenwizard. You can read and enjoy! Trust me, you'll have lots of content to post about after that 🤠👍

*I always try to be respectful to all ships, but sometimes some of them really anger me because the ships are either toxic or the arguments are plain trash. I'm sorry if I offend anyone.

Thank you for reading this. If you're a dr*mione shipper, I hope I've convinced you to give up the ship or come up with better arguments for it.

If you're an anti-dramione I hope you enjoyed the post. I'll delight you with more anti-toxic-ships content. :)

Thank you once again! <3

[cimerran-714]

An imaginary conversation between the members of the Golden Trio and JKR ;)

Note: Given the apparent ire that this post has triggered among some (toxic) Canon Shippers, I'd like to clarify something: It's not meant to be disrespectful towards any other pairings (especially R/Hr). I'd included the 'Ron Weasley' tag by mistake, and it'd remain there until I figure out how to do away with it. I won't be removing this disclaimer, though.

In the meantime, keep a civil head in your tongue if you'd like to comment. If 'Harmony' isn't your thing, then simply don't read it.

*After the events that unfolded in the fifth book (Order of the Phoenix), Harry decides to give J.K Rowling a piece of his mind*

Harry: Hey, I think of Ginny as a sister

JKR: Wait, no! That will never do. I was planning on making you love her.

Harry: I'd have thought me and Hermione have got a better chemistry together, actually...

JKR: Yes, but Ginny's an athlete, Harry. And as all the Romione shippers have claimed, you obviously can't find a girl like Hermione attractive.

Harry: That's not true. I like her very much. I mean, it was Hermione who hugged me for the first time when we tried to save the Philosopher's stone.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: Why didn't Ron accompany us to rescue Sirius from the North Tower?

JKR: Well, that was just-

Harry: Ron thought I was lying, that I was trying to earn myself a bit more fame by entering myself for the Triwizard tournament. She believed me, though.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: And I was a bit "thrilled" when Krum considered me a true rival.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: You made sure that she had "snow in her face", and that her cheeks were "pink with cold", didn't you?

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: Why was she so interested in knowing where I sleep, anyway?

JKR: Well-

Harry: I remember being careful enough to make sure that I'd pinched my own leg while we were closeted in that cupboard. I mean, it ruled out the possibility that I was dreaming about... well, being in close quarters with her.

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: She dragged me away from a date with Cho Chang. Hmm...

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: I didn't really care what she said about Cho, anyway. My first reaction was to claim that she is not ugly. And she isn't. Like, didn't you see Hermione's... er, figure in that blue dress?

JKR: Yes, but-

Harry: I only wish we'd cuddled after rescuing Sirius-

Hermione: Oh, Harry-

JKR: But-

Harry: Ever bothered to count the times when you made her "whisper" and "breath" in my ear?

JKR: Yes, but... you consider her a sibling, don't you?

Harry: Do I?

JKR: ...

Harry: ...

Hermione: ...

*Much later, a disgruntled Ron joins their midst*

Harry: So... you're pairing me with Ginny in the sixth book, after all. What a bummer.

Ron: Tough luck, mate.

JKR: I am. Sorry for the disappointment, but I do think you'd fit better in some ways-

Ron: Well... I'd end up with Hermione, I reckon. Won't I, Rowling?

JKR: Mrs. Rowling, Ronald. And yes, you will.

Ron: That's a relief.

Harry: Yeah, so long as there are no cringey chest monsters or anything...

Ron: Of course not. That's so unrealistic, everyone knows that.

JKR: (sips some more tea)

Hermione: I wonder at what point we'd snog. After a Quidditch match, I suppose. I mean, it makes so much sense for me to be appreciative of Ron's talents, now that you've made him win the Cup last time-

JKR: You've jumped the gun. No one said you'd be snogging.

Harry: But you said they'd be togeth-

JKR: In a manner of speaking. You'd spend at least half the book arguing, though.

Ron: What!? You've got to make her say I'm fanciable or something, it's been five bloody years! At least let me tell a teacher that she's the best in our year! I'd defended Hermione against Snape, after all.

JKR: You aren't the only Gryffindor sixth-year, Ron. What do you think Harry's there for?

Harry: She... she'll tell me that I'm fanciable?

JKR: Yes.

Ron: 'Platonically', of course.

JKR: Correct. As we all know, young Harry thinks of her like a-

Harry: Don't you dare fuel that lie again.

Hermione: Then when are we kissing?

JKR: Near the end of the last book. You'd be in the middle of a... well, I'd rather not give away any spoilers. But it'd basically consist of you and Ron helping Harry out with something.

Hermione: Obviously.

Ron: Yeah, I wouldn't ever ditch my best friend.

JKR: Er.... you will, though. You'd have a row. Don't worry, I'm not planning to polish you off or anything.

Hermione: That makes sense. And I'd pine for Ron, won't I? I'm sure Harry and I would be totally dysfunctional together, that should give you an opening to-

JKR: In the beginning. Actually, both of you would adjust just fine after a while. Just make sure you don't trip on the kissing gate, dear.

Ron: ...

Harry: (stares incredulously at the woman who made him live in a cupboard for years)

Ron: You're so partial to Fred and George, though... they're raking in Galleons.

JKR: Ah, yes, I'm glad you mentioned the rest of your family. Hermione, I want you to twist around in your seat and smile at Harry, all right? While the three of you are at Bill and Fleur's wedding, I mean. A sparkle of tears in your eyes won't go amiss, either. Ron, you'd better be seated between them.

Hermione (squeals): T-twist around and beam at Harry? During a wedding!?

Ron: No way, my girlfriend would never do that! You can't make her!

Harry: You sure you aren't hitching us together?

Ron: Yeah, your writing's getting so predictable now.

Hermione: It'd be such a surprise if-

JKR: ... if the text doesn't give the impression that Harry's held your hand after exiting Dumbledore's office, yes

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Hiya! I love your writing! Would you consider writing a draco malfoy x reader soulmate au? Maybe post war? Like you feel a harsh burn when you meet your soulmate but it immediately stops when you look in theirs eyes?

Carrot Cake

A/N: Thank you anon for being my first request and I hope you enjoy it!

W.C. : 4500

Warnings: A little bit of swearing.

Soulmates were a tricky thing. Even more when you found your perfect match in the entire world by the touch of skin against skin, showing you what true pain was before it all went away with the look of the one person that would love you no matter what. The fire that they ignited in you being washed away by you swimming in their eyes, diving into their gaze and letting it take all the pain away. 

That sounded like a fairy tale, didn´t it?

Well try it at school, with thousands of teenagers looking for the one they would love until they took their last breath. It got intense at times.

You had witnessed the desperation of many at the very halls of Hogwarts. Girls and boys alike, walking way to closely to the one they thought was the one for them. “Accidentally” brushing hands to just get the disappointing feeling of a sweaty hand or the looks of confusion in the person. Many didn’t even try to date until they were sure it was their soulmate.

“I’m saving me the pain of a heartbreak.” they would say as they carried on with their lives.

It was funny to watch when two people found out they were soulmates. Your favorite one being at a Quidditch match. It was almost summer and the uniforms were just the necessary layers to prevent they passed out because of the heat. Hufflepuff was playing against Ravenclaw, the two seekers flying after the golden snitch at such speed they were flashes before the eyes of the crowd.

The Ravenclaw seeker had the snitch at the slightest stretch of her arm, but the Hufflepuff team couldn’t lose so he did the only thing that came to his mind. He forced his broom to the right, clashing his body against the one of the Ravenclaw seeker. 

The matched stopped completely at the cries from both seekers rolling on the ground, their fall wasn’t that high so everyone stared at them with wide eyes as they screamed in pain. Only when one student reacted everyone understood what was happening. They were soulmates.

“LOOK AT HER, YOU FOOL!” someone yelled from the back of the crowd, and so he did. He forced the pain aside and opened his eyes meeting tear stained ones. 

They felt as a cold bucket of water was poured over them, the pain fading into a feeling of bliss and fulfillment. The young seekers had found each other.

But you? You were neutral. You see, you were sure neither of your friends was your soulmate or you would have known since the moment you shook hands for the first time. And it wasn’t like you could go around touching every single person you crossed paths with. So you took the matter with patience.

One thing was for sure: You would meet your soulmate. Whether you were eleven, sixteen, thirty or fifty years old was up to fate.

How ever your friends, or more like one friend, was extremely worried about you.

“You won’t find them if you don’t look for them, Y/N” Hermione scolded you with a stern look. This was the third time she had brought up the subject in the week, whether she did it out of genuine concern or just mere curiosity of who you were destined to be, you didn’t know.

“That’s easy for you to say ‘Mione,” you said with the tilt of you head “You found yours when you were eleven.” your eyes falling to her and Ron’s hands together.

She rolled her eyes, dropping his boyfriend’s hand before she turned to the dark haired boy at your right  “Harry?” she said, looking for the some kind of support. 

He just shrugged, giving her a tight smile before returning to the book he seemed to have glued to his body. You’ll have to talk to him about it soon.

Hermione’s scoff returned your attention to her “All I’m saying is: It wouldn’t hurt if you made the effort, you know?” she said in defeat “Your soulmate is not going to drop out of the sky or go and knock at your door. You have to get out there and try.”

You smiled at her, and she returned it with a hopeful glint in her eyes “You’re right,” you said, pausing a little “Although he might drop out of the sky. We live in world with flying brooms, remember?” you said with an innocent smile.

Ron and Harry snickered around you, bursting in a full fit of laughter as Hermione yanked his hands away from yours. “You’re impossible.” she grunted, crossing her hands over her chest and turning away from you.

“Just leave her be, Hermione.” Harry defended you “If she doesn’t want to push it that’s up to her.”

You gave him a genuine smile, mouthing a thank you his way. He nodded his head with a smile, returning to the open page in front of him. Harry was right, you weren’t going to push it.

**********************************************************************

You couldn’t deny that after the war panicked was a current state you found yourself at least once a day. What if Hermione was right? You could have made the effort back at Hogwarts to find your soulmate, but no one could assure you that he or she was there.

Still you would have known. What if they died at war? Many students died at the hands of Voldemort’s forces, students and adults alike that had every possibility of being your soulmate. Age wasn’t a problem and you knew that first hand. The story of Professor Lupin and Tonks was well known among the wizards, besides the fact that you had meet the little Teddy Lupin in one of your visits to Harry. The boy was proof that the Soulmate bond was never wrong.

No one ever told you anything about what happened if your soulmate died before you realized who they are. Yes, you met but you never touched or interacted enough to realize you were soulmates. 

At 25 years of being alive you had meet thousands of people who you had never even shared the same space. What if you already met them and you never realized because the interaction was so fast. Was that even possible?

The sound of the bell at your door ringing brought you back to reality, you stood from the stool you sat and straighten your apron before the person on the other side of the counter got there. 

“Hello,” you greeted them with a smile “What can I get for you today?”. 

After the war the last thing you wanted to do was work at the Ministry of Magic or anything that could put your life in danger again. So you worked to save enough money to open your own café, the recipes of your mother and your love for coffee making it success after the first year of opening. It also helped that the upper part of the little building worked as your home. A flat with a room for you and a big open space for the living room and a small but functional kitchen.

The person in front of you was clearly a new customer, reading over the menu hanged high on the wall as he took all the options in “I’ll have a black coffee with a slice of the double chocolate cake, please.” he said with a smile.

You nodded your head “Be ready in just a second!” you said turning to the coffee maker to get a fresh pot. He went to the stools that faced the busy street of Diagon Alley, the wooden bar filled with all kinds of beautiful plants that Neville had once showed you and you ended up loving.

The door burst open again, the sound of the outside world filling the place with the flowing chatter of the group that had just entered, taking one of the tables from far in the corner. 

“Here you go, Sir.” you told the man waiting patiently on the bar.

He turned to you with a smile, taking the bag from your hand “Thank you!” he said, paying you and waving goodbye. You hadn’t even noticed the crowd that had gathered in the register until someone spoke from behind you.

“Well if it’s none other than Y/N Y/L/N,” said Blaise Zabini with a grin in his face, his eyes roaming all over your body before they landed on your eyes “Couldn’t find a better job?” he asked, the smug look in his face making you want nothing more than to throw the hot pot of coffee in his clearly expensive clothes.

But you held yourself back, you had dealt with clients like him before. With maybe too much force you placed the pot in the counter, putting a fake smile on your face “What can I get for you today?” you asked kindly, hoping the tick you felt in your eye was only a game your mind was playing on you.

“Awww,” he said with a fake pout of his lip “Sensitive subject?” he said with little voice. The ones accompanying him laughed under their breath, taking a glance their way  you recognize them as Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle. She was still one of the prettiest yet meanest persons you had ever met, her sense of fashion hadn’t changed much, fortunately, her looks the only attribute you could save from her. Goyle was the same as he was back at Hogwarts, he looked more mature and adult-like but the chuckle at what Zabini had just said proved you that not much had changed.

“Are you going to order something or can I carry on with the rest of the line?” you asked, your patience starting to wear thin as more people got behind them.

“Answer me this first and maybe I’ll order something,” he said, resting his arms over the counter. The bell to the door sounded again but you paid it no mind, your hands starting to get sweaty at the sardonic look in his face  “Is it true you haven’t found your soulmate yet?”

You stared at him, your eyes turning into a glare before you took a menacing step forward “This is not an interrogation” you said lowly “Order something or get out of my shop.” you snapped.

He raised his arms in defeat, a breathy laugh coming out of his lips “Whether you wanted it or not you just answered my question.” he laughed, glancing back to Pansy and Goyle “No wonder your so moody.”

“Zabini,” someone said beside him, your eyes shifting doubtfully to the side to see a tall man. He had serious face, his hazel eyes cold as he stared almost in annoyance at him “Did you choose this place only to bother her or are you actually going to order something?” he growled. 

“Oh, c’mon Theo. We were just having a casual chat.” he said innocently “You remember Y/L/N, don’t you?” he said pointing at you.

He only spared a glance at you, his attention shifting quickly as another man joined them. Draco Malfoy. 

“Of course I do,” Theo answered “I also remember how she once hexed your ass so bad you couldn’t leave your room for a week.” he said, erasing the smug look from his face “Need I continue or are you going to finally order something? Is the least you can do after making her lose her time on you.”

Blaise was fuming when he turned to you, never meeting your eyes “Three black coffees, one with cream and sugar and whatever they want.” he grunted, turning in his heel before you could even answer.

You turned to Theo, giving him a small yet genuine smile “What can I get for the two of you?” you asked, seeing his eyes go over the selection of cakes you had displayed.

“A mocha and a cappuccino, and one slice of the carrot cake.” he said, giving you a nod. 

“I’ll have it by your table in a moment.” you told him, making a move with your hand for the next person in line to order.

They both muttered a thank you, keeping your eyes in the back of their heads as they went to the table their friends sat at. You shook your head, facing the lady next in line “Thank you for your patience.” you said, getting over with all the orders before you got to work.

The girl that you hired to help you moved at such a speed you almost missed her when she was about to take the order to the Slytherins “Not that one!” you said, stopping her before she was out of the kitchen “I’ll take it.” you mumbled grabbing the tray.

“Are you sure?” she said with a cock of her eyebrow “‘Cause they weren’t that nice before.” she said bitterly.

“I’m sure, Raven.” you said with a smile “You can start making the batter for the carrot cake, that was the last slice.”

She smiled, nodding her head before she turned, half the ingredients out before you even made it out of the kitchen. You walked to the table, putting a smile on your face “Three black coffees, one with sugar and cream,” you repeated their entire order as you placed each item in the table, a satisfactory look in your face as you ended “Anything else I can get you?” 

They all stayed silent, never meeting your eyes. You catched a glimpse of Draco rolling his eyes, his eyes meeting yours “That would be all, thank you.” he said.

You nodded and turned, hearing a small part of their conversation. 

“I didn’t order that.” Draco muttered as Theo placed the cake in front of him.

“Did you really think I forgot your birthday last week?” he asked, and you couldn’t help the smile that krept on your face. “Happy birthday, mate.”

They were the last ones to leave the shop that day, ordering all kinds of drinks they put their eyes on. You wondered if they would be able to sleep that night.

“Uh...Y/N?” Raven called you from the front part of the shop. 

“Yes, darling?” you said, walking out to where she stood cleaning the tables. Her eyes shifting from you to the untouched table.

“I think this is for you.” she said shakily, handing you a neatly folded napkin. 

You looked at her with a frown, opening the piece of paper to see it was a note. A beautifully written note. 

I apologize for my idiotic friends and their behavior. 

It had no signature but you had a pretty good guess as to who had left it. You turned to Raven with a soft smile “It’s just note Raven, nothing wrong with that.” you said, your smile dropping as she moved her body and let you see what she had been hiding. There in the table was a very generous tip, one that you hadn’t seen anyone leave.

“Merlin,” you mumbled turning to Raven who still had a panicked look in her eyes.

“Let’s close alright, it’s getting late.”

**********************************************************************

It had been two weeks since the incident with Blaise Zabini and even if they had been of your best customers you felt relieved when none of them had showed their face again. Of course, you weren’t that lucky.

It was a slow morning, friday mornings where no one went looking for coffee and instead saved their money and energy for the weekend. So, the bell ringing made you jump in anticipation until you saw them, Theo Nott and Draco Malfoy walking inside the shop.

You took a deep breath, watching them near the counter “Morning,” you smiled “What can I get you?” you asked. 

You were glad it was them and not the others, surprisingly being the nicest ones. But still you couldn’t help but feel intimidated, they both have cold stares and a permanent tired looking face. 

“Morning Y/N,” said Theo, surprising you by using your first name “Two black coffees, please.”

You nodded almost out of their sight before you heard Draco call “Do you have carrot cake?” he asked you, a chuckle emerging from Theo before he turned to pick a table. You smiled at him nodding your head, he thanked you and joined his friend at the table, slumping in his seat.

You couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with him. You remembered him from school, always with a confident air to him, a bright smile that had everyone at his feet. He was a Malfoy for Godric's sake! Now he looked… defeated.

“Two black coffees and carrot cake,” you said once at their table “Fresh out of the oven.” you smiled down at him and he gave you a small smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. “Let me know if you need anything else.” you said.

You moved your hands to grab the tray, Draco’s hand reaching for his mug at the same time, knuckled brushing slightly. You felt a hot sensation, a gasp leaving your lips as you brought your hand up to your chest. 

“Everything alright?” Theo asked from your side, your eyes never leaving Draco as you hoped to maybe see a reaction. His eyes dead as they always were.

“Yes...Enjoy your coffee.” you said to quickly, grabbing the tray and running back to the kitchen. You rubbed your thumb over your knuckles, Could it be?

Their voices caught your attention, being the only ones in the shop besides you made it difficult not to eavesdrop. They could probably whisper and you would get every single word they uttered.

“You gotta get out there,” Theo sighed “I know you don’t want to but not all is lost.”

“She was supposed to be the one,” Draco mumbled, his voice void of any emotion “Not fucking Zabini.” he grunted, stabbing his cake with the fork multiple times.

“So Astoria is not your soulmate,” Theo said with a knowing look “You should see it as a win.” he uttered getting a glare from Draco as he stopped the stabbing “You won’t have Daphne as your sister in law, you won’t have to endure their parents ridiculous expectations on you as her husband plus, do you even liked her?” he asked with a frown.

“I was starting to.” he mumbled bitterly.

“Then stop.” Theo ordered “And get yourself together, you don’t want to meet your soulmate and look like your fresh out of Azkaban.” he mumbled, sipping away before he took a look to the hour. He was close to spitting the bitter liquid, placing the cup down “Shit, I’m late.” he said, tapping his pockets before Draco waved a hand in his way.

“Go,” he told him “I got it.”

“Thanks mate,” he said, his eyes scanning the place before they landed on you behind the counter “Y/N!” he called and you poked your head over the counter “Keep the man some company for me, would you?” he said, smiling at the nod you gave him, running out the door before you could say another thing.

Your eyes drifted to Draco, sitting awkwardly at the table. You chuckled, getting up to walk to him, grabbing the empty mugs you cocked your head “Well c’mon, the stools are more comfortable, believe it or not.” you told him, listening to the shuffling sound before his steps filled the shop. 

He sat in the one nearer to where you sat behind the counter. You stared at him before it turned weird, you shook your head “Do you want more coffee?” you said, wiggling your eyebrow at him before you said “Carrot cake?”

He laughed softly, giving you his empty mug. You poured him the coffee, bringing the cake out anyway. He gave you a questioning look, and you kept on cutting the slice “With the tip your friend left the last time you were here, I should give you a year worth of cake and coffee.” you laughed, placing the cake in a plate and giving it to him.

He smiled at you, taking the plate before he lowered his head “That would have been me, actually.” he mumbled, and you froze.

“What?” you stuttered, with wide eyes “That was you?” you asked him and he nodded, taking a bite of the cake. “Woah, well thank you,” you said, sitting in your stool “You made a little girl’s day that evening.”

He couldn’t help the disappointing feeling that settled in him, he doubted but the words left his mouth before he could even think about them “You have kids?” he asked.

You stared at him dumbfounded, laughing softly at his assumption “Oh, no.” you said, relief washing over him “Raven, the girl that works with me. She started working so she could buy her first broom.” you shared.

“You gave it all to her?” he asked, and you nodded with smile.

Draco didn’t understand what he was feeling right there with you, but he didn’t want it to stop. This was the happiest he had felt in weeks.

**********************************************************************

Draco’s sporadic buy of coffee turned into daily visits, sometimes accompanied by Theo, but mostly only him. He had his preferred seat, near where you took the orders and prepared the coffee. It was rare the occasion that someone sat on the bar, the place used by lonely customers.  It became Draco’s predetermined place.

“Draco,” you said, one day when all the clients were happy and away with their orders “Don’t get me wrong, I love your visits and that you spend so much time here,” he raised an eyebrow when you paused, looking for the right words “Don’t you have a work to go to?”

His entire expression changed, he looked tormented and sad at the same time. He placed his cup down, avoiding your eyes “I’m supposed to be on vacations.” he said in you frown in confusion.

“Draco, as flattered as I am, my coffee shop is not a vacation destination.” you told him and he chuckled, daring to meet your eyes.

“No, I-,” he sighed in defeat “I was supposed to be on my honeymoon right now.” he said. 

“What?” you asked leaning in the counter, holding your head in your hands “What happened?”

“She wasn’t my soulmate,” he said bitterly “Zabini ended up being her soulmate and now they are planning their wedding.”

You were very confused and he could tell by the look on your face “Apparently she found a way to fake the bond, did it on me before she found out he was her soulmate.”

You scoffed, and he meet your eyes “What a bitch move.” you mumbled, realizing that you said it out loud “No offense, but you should never do that to someone. Not even I’m that desperate.” you laughed, walking to the register to take Dave’s order. The sweet man that had found your shop the same day Draco and his gang had the first time.

But Draco was focused on the words you had said. Not even I’m that desperate:

You didn’t have a soulmate yet. A spark of hope made his heart flutter as he watched you give the man his order, a kind smile always on your face as you waved him goodbye. 

Maybe not all was lost.

**********************************************************************

“You didn’t have to stay so late.” you told Draco, his tall frame leaned against the door as he watched you put in place the last chair. “I literally live here, well, not here but upstairs,” you laughed “You know what I mean.” you said, your face changing to a concerned one “Draco?”

He had stayed silent, through all the cleaning process he had help you wash and put everything in place. You didn’t find it odd, the man was suffering and he had relived all that by sharing it with you. You let him to his thoughts for a moment.

But now he was watching you intently, almost as he was admiring you. You started to feel shaky, and even more when he took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes lighting up when you didn’t take one back yourself.

“Draco, what are you doing?” you asked shakily, crossing your arms over your chest as a way to physically shield you from his burning eyes.

“I want to ty something,” he said, his grey eyes shifting to your hand before they meet your E/C ones. He was inches away from you, if your breathing became any more deeper you chests would brush against each other. But you knew that wouldn’t work.

It had to be your skin against his.

“Y/N?” he called again and you looked at him with glossy eyes, the tears barely staying there. “Can I?” he asked you, his voice so soft you barely heard him.

“I don’t...What if it’s not us?” you asked him, the crack in your voice paining him more than any other thing he had ever gone through. 

He took a shaky breath “Do you trust me?” he asked you. You nodded your head immediately and he smiled softly “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” he said, leaning down slightly. 

He took one last look at you and then he grabbed your hand.

A cry of pain left your mouth as you felt the warmth spread all over your body, the heat concentrated in your wrist where his hand had touched you. The burning sensation was quickly washed away by his grey eyes on you. The warm feeling of the bond replaced by the cold feeling of his hand.

Draco Malfoy was your soulmate.

You laughed breathlessly, looking at his hand in your wrist before you faced him again. A smile that mirrored your own in his face.

You threw your arms around his neck, taking him by surprise as he stumbled back a little. He placed his hands on your waist and brought you closer to him, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss. He kissed you so softly, running his hand up and down your back, landing again on your sides.

You had your fingers tangled in his hair before he pulled away from you, his eyes still closed before he opened them to see the brightest smile he had ever seen. You kept on playing with his hair, placing soft kisses on his cheeks.

“You taste like carrot cake.” 

He chuckled resting his head on your shoulder as he hugged you, letting you hold him as you scratched his scalp with your fingertips. “That’s all your fault,” he muttered, letting go of his hold on you. “I’m glad I found you.” he said, giving you a quick kiss.

“I’m glad I found you too.” 

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse @accio-rogers @gloriousrebelrunaway @slytherinprincess03 @coldlilheart @aasthapiplani @nebulablakemurphy @strawberriesonsummer @l1teralegend @infinity1o1  @nevermore9292 @artist-bby @not-today-anxiety

@thatfann @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @starcross16 @bunny-bois @harddonutalmondhound 

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Little steps | pt 1 - Admiration - George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader (though very subtle in this one)

Summary: You’re friends with the golden trio (you might even say golden four in this one) and you join them when they go to the Quidditch Cup final.

Word count: 1,5k

A/N: ok, so, it’s my first ever fic, so I’m not sure how it came out, but I couldn’t help myself to not post it and find out what people may think. It’s pretty slow I think, but just because I didn’t feel like diving head first to the good bits I have in mind, I needed the sort of intro, and if it’s generally any good, hopefully there’ll be more?? looking forward to feedback, the good and the bad. And english is not my first language so sorry if anything sounds funny

1994 Saturday, August 24th

You arrived at the Burrow in the afternoon, along with Hermione. It was the day before the Quidditch Cup final, Ireland vs. Bulgaria. Although your brothers were also going, you decided to accept Ron’s invitation as it would be more exciting and give you a chance to do something new with three of your best friends. You had to admit, you didn’t expect Hermione to come, as she wasn’t the biggest Quidditch fan, but the idea of such a huge event, gathering wizards from all over the world must’ve been too tempting.

You had to admit that evening was filled with excitement, you and your friends tried to casually hang out like you have many times before, but your thoughts always seemed to look forward to waking up Monday morning and heading out for the event.

The next day at five o’clock the boys – Ron, Fred and George went to pick up Harry from the Dursleys’ place. You wondered to yourself whether all of them going was really necessary, or how bad could it go. But there was also a part of you that was just curious what would come out of it. And so, you were currently sat at the table, talking to Bill and Charlie. Pretending you’re not waiting for the party to come back.

You didn’t have to wait long. First, it was Fred, along with his smug expression. You couldn’t help but look at him curiously. He caught your eye and understood, but didn’t say anything. He just smirked, gave you the smallest nod and looked away, as if telling you to wait. So you did. A minute later came George, carrying a trunk which you recognised to be Harry’s. The moment he appeared, he was grinning, stumbled out of the fireplace with the trunk. He left it on the floor and high-fived Fred, now both twins already laughing. Then arrived Ron, his reaction similar. Your curiosity almost overflowing at this point. Soon, Harry fell out of the fireplace, Fred reaching out a hand to help him up. -Did he eat it? – he asked Harry. Who could he be asking about? And what did he eat? -Yeah. – Harry answered, getting up. -What was it? -Ton-Tongue Toffee. George and I invented them, we’ve been looking for someone to test them on all summer…

The boys started laughing, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too. -What exactly happened?! – you asked, looking between them, your eyes stopping on George for no reason at all. He grinned at you, then looked at Fred and they chuckled. You might’ve gotten an explanation if it wasn’t for Mr. Weasley’s arrival.

-That wasn’t funny, Fred! – he shouted. He looked angry, and you’ve never seen Arthur Weasley angry before, even with twins’ antics. It led you to wondering how often it happened. - What on earth did you give that Muggle boy? -I didn’t give him anything -  said Fred, with another evil grin. – I just dropped it… It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to. -How big did his tongue get? - George asked eagerly. -It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it! - Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again. You were starting to put the pieces together. -It isn’t funny! -  Mr. Weasley shouted. -That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard–Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons- -We didn’t give it to him because he’s a Muggle! - said Fred indignantly. -No, we gave it to him because he’s a great bullying git, - said George. -Isn’t he, Harry? – You were almost certain they were talking about Dudley, Harry’s cousin.

-Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley, - said Harry earnestly. Pranking people wasn’t new to Fred and George, and you had to admit, you didn’t always find it funny. But the fact that Harry never asked for any type of revenge on the git, yet the twins simply listened to his - sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much – complaints, gave you a new portion of admiration for the lads. Or maybe it just reminded you how much you already did admire them, even if you never said it out loud. -That’s not the point! -raged Mr. Weasley. - You wait until I tell your mother- -Tell me what? - said a voice behind them. Uh oh. Mr. Weasley didn’t know what to do, after all he didn’t really want to tell Molly. She inquired further. Hermione came in to the room behind her, quickly sensing what was about to go down. And so – you, the girls, Harry and Ron bolted upstairs with an excuse to settle Harry in.

You walked downstairs to help with dinner after the fight seemed to have stopped. Molly asked the girls to set the tables outside, so you did it, but while you were still close enough to hear, you listened as she complained about Fred and George, maybe more to herself than to Harry. How disappointed she is, how they’re wasting their brains, and how they’re not going to achieve anything or where things had gone wrong. You listened, and couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang in your heart – and the voice in your head that started to defend them. But after all, it wasn’t your problem.

The next morning, you were woken up by Mrs. Weasley while it was still dark. You definitely did not get enough sleep, but thanks to the adrenaline, you didn’t notice, though you’d certainly notice it later in the day. Your friends were all groggy, and after having breakfast you left – but not without Molly confiscating some more of twins’ Ton-Tongue Toffees they were surely hoping to get away with and sell.

The walk wasn’t too long. You were supposed to take a portkey on one of the hills near Ottery St. Catchpole. You weren’t the only ones, though. Amos Diggory appeared with his son, Cedric. -Hi -said Cedric looking around the teens, and all except for Fred and George (who were holding grudges after being defeated by Hufflepuff quidditch team the previous season) replied. -Hey, Y/N/N – he said, smiling kindly at you. You didn’t miss the look Ginny and Hermione exchanged. You knew Cedric. He was tall, handsome and smart – the golden boy, and the two of you shared a friend circle.

When you arrived at the campsite, you were all positively overwhelmed. You took in your surroundings, met some Hogwarts friends and settled into your tent. Inside, waiting for the match, you were hanging out in smaller groups. You got up from the chair you were sitting in to grab some water for yourself. Walking into the small tent kitchen, your thoughts still in the conversation you had with Harry, you bumped into someone’s chest. You looked up to see the face of your victim -Oh, sorry George! my bad - you said quickly and were about to pass him, when another long-haired ginger appeared behind his shoulder. -You so sure about that, love? – said Fred, smirking. -What, that I’m sorry? I mean it’s not like I knocked him off his feet but… - you said, well knowing where he was going with it. You knew damn well which was which. The three of you rarely spoke directly, often hanging out with the rest of your shared friends. But you always saw them. In the very beginning, when you started being friends with Ron and met his older brothers the young girl in you was excited for attention from boys who were two whole years older than you – which seemed basically adult at the time. You liked them both and couldn’t decide which one more. Through the years, needless to say, you calmed down a bit. You also got to know their respective personalities and although your childish crush never got serious, you were still happy to receive any kind of attention – from one of them this time, George. They gave each other the look and both stepped to the side to let you pass, which you did. -Didn’t think you’d be so sure about telling us apart, is all – said George. A slight disappointment. You decided to turn the funny on. You feigned hurt, put your hand up to your heart and looked back at them -That’s sad! I know you don’t talk to me as much but I still know you – you turned more serious. With a small smile, you said -And I like to think we’re friends. It clearly took them a bit by surprise. -Yeah.. Yeah, we are, of course. -Said Fred, nodding. George nodded too, with a kind smile on his face. With that, they left.

It wasn’t long before the match began. The events that followed. Now, you were just looking forward to being back at Hogwarts and find out what kind of surprise everyone was whispering about.

Part 2

[malfoymanortings]

somebody else PT 2

SUMMARY: Mae has been in love with Draco Malfoy since her first year at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy fell in love with Mae in their fourth year, and then promptly fell into Pansy’s bed instead. All the while, Mae clings to the hope that Draco will change. That is, until, Ron Weasley takes his chance.

PAIRINGS: toxic!Draco x OC, Ron x OC, Ginny x Luna

im not sure that I like how this turned out, but hopefully you all enjoy it! I was very surprised I got so much positive feedback on that little one shot i posted. thank you all for the love! 

also, let me know if you want to be on the taglist for the next part. 

Perhaps it was her conversation with Ginny the previous night, or perhaps it was because she felt so hollow inside, but Mae resolved herself on confronting Draco. Of course, he didn’t make things easy for her. He never did.

“Pansy and Draco are sitting awfully close, aren’t they?” Blaise said conversationally, taking a sip of his morning coffee. Full of cream, three sugars. As always.

Mae eyed Draco and Pansy warily, noting the way Pansy laughed into Draco, her hand seeming to move onto his leg although it was hidden from the table. “They’re just friends.”

“Rubbish,” scoffed Blaise harshly, stabbing an egg. “You’re much smarter than that, love.”

Pansy took that moment to brush Draco’s hair out of his face, and something broke inside Mae as Draco caught her hand in his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips and ghosting a kiss across them.

“It’s none of your business though, innit?” snapped Mae, slamming her glass of pumpkin juice down so harshly it brought the attention of the entire half of their table, including Draco and Pansy. “If Draco wants to fuck a slut, let him.”

Blaise choked on his eggs, slamming a fist into his chest as he attempted to swallow. Draco tilted his head, a sneer on his face, while Pansy began hurling insults at Mae. 

“Perhaps if you weren’t a filthy half-blood, Draco would be more interested. He wants a real woman.” Pansy declared wickedly, her lips lifted up in a snarl.

“A real woman with real STDs, hm?” retorted Mae, standing up from the table. “Everyone knows you fucked Theodore Nott last week, and he had to go to Madam Pomfrey from whatever you gave him!”

The part about Pansy fucking Theodore Nott was true, although the STD part was not. But Mae was so angry, so fed up with how the both of them were treating her, that she couldn’t contain it anymore. At this point, most of the Great Hall had caught sight of what was happening, although the teachers at least pretended to be oblivious. She caught sight of Ginny grinning at her encouragingly.

“I’m going to be honest with you, because no one else will,” Draco said the words slowly, casually, as though he were speaking of the weather. “Anyone who says they’re interested in you, beyond just fucking you, is a liar.”

Mae felt her cheeks burn, as the Slytherin table began laughing and oohing under their breath, and she rushed out of the Great Hall. She heard footsteps behind her, but she ignored them, until someone tugged harshly on her arm, the rings on his fingers alerting her to who it was.

“Why?” demanded Mae, turning around with unshed tears. An amused Draco stood in front of her, looming over her. “Why do you do this to me?”

Perhaps the question caught him off guard, because Draco replied with “I don’t know.”

Mae let out a strangled sob, wiping her hands harshly down her face. “I just want to be the one you love.”

“Oh darling,” Draco said the words softly, reaching out to caress her cheek. Mae closed her eyes for a moment, and she could pretend everything was fine. “I’ll never love you.”

With those words, Draco shoved her jaw harshly, causing a loud popping noise to sound as pain reverberated through the lower half of her face.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Mae said the words first, opening her eyes to see Draco actually looking.. Hurt, by her words.

“Took you long enough.” 

Mae looked to see Ginny heading her way, her hand intertwined with Luna’s, with the Golden trio, Pansy, and Blaise following close behind.

“We would have never made it anyways.” Draco responded quietly, and Mae felt a bit vindicated to see that he appeared to feel at least partially upset.

“That’s your fault.” her voice shook, but Mae said the words passionately.

“How?” he had the nerve to sound incredulous, and Mae balled up her fists as tears of anger came to her eyes.

“You always cheated on me with Pansy! You treated me like I was your pet, like you could keep fucking around without any care for my feelings!” the words she had been keeping in for so long burst out, and she felt a rush of vindication that she finally got to say them aloud.

Draco scoffed, and any hope of him apologizing or fighting for her went out the window. “You really think I give a shit about you? It’s your loss, Callisto.” he sneered her last name, looking over his shoulder to see the others approaching them.

Mae’s eyes hardened, hatred growing as Pansy ran pathetically over to Draco. “Your whore’s here.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Sorry you don’t know how to keep a man.”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Callisto,” Draco drawled out, slinging an arm over Pansy. “Nobody likes a slut that doesn’t understand when her time is up.”

“What did you just say?” Ron Weasley was the last person Mae expected to speak to Draco after he said those words.

Draco scoffed. “You heard me, Weas-”

Before Draco could get the full word out, Ron’s fist collided with Draco’s delicate features. Mae’s eyes widened as Ron wound his fist back once more, knocking Draco flat on his back. Pansy started screaming, and Blaise started laughing.

“Blaise, help him!” Pansy shrieked, slapping a hand to her mouth in horror.

Blaise sighed, rolling his eyes. He gave Mae a quick look, (perhaps in an apology?) before he gave Ron a swift kick to his stomach. Ron stumbled backwards, falling on his bottom, and Draco lay on the ground clutching his bruised and bloody face.

Pansy promptly threw herself down onto Draco, and Blaise stood there with his arms crossed as though he were just waiting for the show to be over. Mae, on the other hand, had nothing left to say to Draco, and turned her attention to Ron, who had just gotten off the floor with the help of Harry. 

“Thank you,” the words were quiet, but sincere. Ron nodded to her, his eyes not wavering from hers.

“He’s not worth it, yeah?” said Ron, shaking his bruised knuckles. “He never deserved you.’

Mae, suddenly flooded with emotion, just shook her head, and with tears burning in her eyes, she left the scene behind her.

--=--

The hardest thing was seeing Draco be so openly affectionate with Pansy. It broke her, each time she entered the common room to see her sitting on his lap. Getting a kiss on the cheek. A hug. A tender embrace. It burned like hell.

So, she began spending less time in the common room. She began joining Luna and Ginny on their outings, normally in the astronomy tower, and at some point, the Golden Trio started joining them. It became a routine, the six of them hanging out in either the tower or the library, if Hermione got her way. 

On the bright side, her grades had never been better. 

A month after the incident with Draco, Mae found herself feeling the wound particularly harshly. She paced outside the Gryffindor common room, hoping to find Ginny coming out of the portrait hole. Instead, she got Ron Weasley, who didn’t seem all too surprised to find her out there.

“You alright?” Ron asked awkwardly, halfway in the doorframe and halfway out.

Mae shook her head silently, her chest aching. “Not really.”

“How ‘bout we take a way, yeah?” suggested Ron, stepping out of the portrait hole. It swung shut loudly behind him.

Mae shrugged her shoulders, and together they walked in silence. They had no clear destination in mind, and Mae found she felt slightly better having his company around her. Ron, she had found, had a fairly dry sense of humor and it was ever so easy to laugh around him. Sometimes, the others didn’t quite understand the joke, but Mae always did. His humor was similar to hers, if she could just find it again.

“I always wondered,” Ron broke their silence, stopping to sit on a ledge overlooking the black lake. “If the squid really existed.”

“Oh, it does,” Mae assured Ron, hopping up on the opposite side of the stone ledge, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. “Sometimes in the common room, we get to see it swim by.”

Ron’s eyes flashed with admiration. “Wicked.”

“I suppose it might be a bit more exciting than overlooking the grounds,” Mae said the words pretentiously, sniffing as she hid a grin from Ron. “We get to see the inside of the black lake, while you boring Gryffindors just get landscape.”

“At least during winter we haven’t got to sleep under ten blankets just to get by,” protested Ron, bringing a hand up to brush his hair out of his face. “Then again, you might just have an iron deficiency.”

Mae’s eyes widened. “That’s a big word for Ronald Weasley.”

“Hermione mentioned it!” defended Ron, moving his hands as he spoke. “She’s the one who suggested you go to Madam Pomfrey for it! You’re always freezing!”

“It’s a perk of being damaged goods, I suppose.” Mae said the words without much thought, as she had gotten distracted by Ron’s rather large hands moving around.

Ron went still, and he gave Mae a confused look. “Damaged goods?”

Mae’s feelings of inadequacy came back, and she felt the stinging of tears hit her eyes. She tried to play it off, giving a weak laugh. “Well, yeah, what else would you call me?”

“Beautiful,” the word rolled off Ron’s tongue rather quickly, as though he hadn't had to think about it at all. 

Tears slipped out of her eyes as Mae processed his words. How could anyone think she was beautiful? Couldn’t he see how damaged she was? Draco had used her up and thrown her out, and no one else would ever want his seconds. He had told her that many times.

“Don’t,” the words came out wet and wobbly. “Don’t lie to me.”

Ron was rarely serious, but he completely focused on her as he reached out to grab her hand in his large one. “Mae, why would I lie about that?”

The tears came freely now, and she could feel a sob building up in her chest. “Ronald Weasley, don’t you dare sit there and lie to me! Don’t fucking sit there, and tell me I’m beautiful, because I’m not. I’m used up and I’m damaged, I will never be anything beyond that!”

Before she could protest, Ron had pulled her into a hug, engulfing her small frame in his large one. Mae had forgotten what it was like to be embraced like this, and she buried her head into Ron’s wide chest as she cried. In the back of her mind, she understood that was likely having a panic attack. 

“Calm down Mae,” Ron held her close, caressing her hair. “You’ll be alright.”

They sat like that, until Mae’s cries subsided and she took a shaky breath, pulling out of Ron’s embrace. She was suddenly embarrassed that she had overreacted as she did, and a blush stained her wet cheeks.

“‘M sorry about that,” mumbled Mae, wiping her cheeks roughly. “I didn’t mean to make you all soggy.”

Ron laughed at that. “Why would I complain, a beautiful girl cried on me today. Sounds like a win to me!”

Mae hit Ron on his arm for that, a small laugh coming out of her as well. If anything, Ron Weasley knew how to switch the mood. “Don’t be a prat, Weasley.”

Ron’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he tossed his head back in a loud bout of laughter, and Mae found herself staring at his full lips. Really, how had she not noticed how perfectly shaped Ron’s lips were before? And Merlin, how were his teeth so straight and white?

As quickly as she began admiring Ron Weasley, images of silver hair and grey eyes flashed through her mind, and she shut her eyes and swallowed hard. There would never be Draco and Mae, that much was clear. It did not do to dwell on things that would never change.

“Imagine leaving me for a Weasley.”

Mae’s stomach dropped as she saw Draco swaggering towards her and Ron, Blaise close behind him. She hated how she still got butterflies as he eyed her appraisingly, before sneering at Ron.

“Shut it, Malfoy.” snapped Ron, his ears growing pink as he dug in his robes for his wand.

“Oh,” whistled Draco, drawing out the vowel. “Weaselbee is going to show off how big of a man he is. Trust me, Weasel, been there, done that. I’m the best she’ll ever have had.”

“Tell me Malfoy, you ever been hexed so hard you had to fight for your life?” snarled Ron, standing before the silver haired boy and brandishing his wand.

Mae quickly got down from the stone ledge, standing in between Draco and Ron, placing a hand on both of their chests. “Both of you, stop it!”

Ron’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t lower his wand. Draco smirked at the sight of her hand on his chest, his eyes flicking down at it before backup to look her in the eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mae said the words firmly, glaring at Draco. “We aren’t together anymore. Stop acting like this.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t fight little Weaselbee.” drawled Draco, flexing his fingers on his wand. “I still had you first.”

“And I fucking left you!” shouted Mae, shoving Draco back from her and Ron. “Get that through your thick skull, and go back to Pansy. The bitch you always cheated on me with!”

“You said you loved me.” Draco said the words softly, bitterly, so quickly that Mae almost didn't catch it. 

For a moment, it felt as though it were just the two of them, Draco and Mae, just as it should have been.

Mae stepped back, away from Draco, away from Ron. Her mouth twitched, her eyes grew wet, and she was at a loss for words. She turned then, and hurried out of the courtyard.

How dare he do this to her. 

taglist: @xoxohollands @phantomsmalfoystyles @lidiyabest @justmimithings

Part one

Part three

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Patronus Themes

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Changing Tides by carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  109687 Tags: Bisexual Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dumbledore's Army, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror Draco Malfoy, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Patronus, Gardens & Gardening, Cultural References, POV Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Fifth Year, POV Alternating, POV Harry Potter, Wandless Magic, Coming of Age, Mutual Pining, War AU, Romance, Falling In Love, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Healing, Post-War, Ministry of Magic, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Soulmates, Community: hd_erised, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream, Snogging, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Emotional Sex, Hand Jobs, Professor Harry Potter, Person of Color Harry Potter Summary:  Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life. Instead of doing what’s expected of him fifth year, he joins Dumbledore’s Army and learns how to defend himself, how to make his own choices, and how he can be something greater than his father’s example as he grows into his own man rather than his father’s shadow. The choices he makes change both his and Harry’s fates, intertwining their paths until they converge. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Eight Days (to Save the World) by Gnarf Rated:  Mature Words:  47632 Tags:  Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Housemates, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Mentions of Death, Dementors, Dementor's Kiss, Inferi (Harry Potter), complot, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Potions, Spells & Enchantments, Auror Harry Potter, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Arrests, Duelling, Corrupt System, slytherin friendships, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, House Elves, Blood and Injury, Scars, Oblivious Harry Potter, patient draco malfoy, Abuse of Authority, Abuse of Auror Authority, Corruption, Law Enforcement Corruption, Ministry of Magic Corruption, Breaking and Entering, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Lies, Manipulation, Veritaserum, Memory Charm | Obliviate (Harry Potter), Interrogation, Battle, Murder, Supremacist Group Murder of a Black Character followed by Government Cover-Up, H/D Erised 2020, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Case Fic, Conspiracy, safe houses, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Love Confessions, Auror Ron Weasley, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Friendship Summary:  Darkness returns to the Wizarding World. People disappear without a trace, and all they leave behind are rumours. When the Aurors are tasked with arresting innocent witches and wizards, Harry once again takes it upon himself to fight against the evil infiltrating the Ministry. But this time he isn't alone. And one of his friends is especially determined not to let him die a second time. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 It's Joggers Season (or so the Muggles say) by carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  10160 Tags: Romance, Joggers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Pining, Falling In Love, Growing Up, Person of Color Harry Potter, Studying, working together, Banter, Patronus, Bets & Wagers, Sharing Clothes, Hung Harry Potter, First Time, Sexual Inexperience, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, HP: EWE, Wandless Magic, Fluff and Humor Summary:  Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy Rated:  Mature Words:  66713 Tags: Post-Second War with Voldemort, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Lack of Appetite Due to Stress, Studying, Exams, fire damage, Post-War Trauma, Scars, Injury, facial injury, Fade to Black, Slow Burn, Fire, Room of Requirement, Healing, Bubble Bath, Bisexual Harry Potter, Self-Discovery, Coming of Age, Coming Out, Friendship, marbles, Toast, Transformation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Sexual Identity, H/D Erised 2019, POV Harry Potter, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Sentient Hogwarts, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Apologies, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, Transfiguration (Harry Potter), Patronus, Kissing, Frottage, Coming In Pants, Gay Draco Malfoy Summary:  How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love-Lines crossing by acGranger Rated:  General Audiences Words:  4573 Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Divination, Palm Reading, Amortentia, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Fluff, Getting Together Summary:  One Divination lesson is all it takes for Harry to become obsessed with Draco Malfoy all over again. When he notices that the Slytherin can’t produce a Patronus, Harry decides to help him, only to keep tabs on him of course. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 We Are One by orpheous87 Rated:  Mature Words:  80748 Tags: Accidental Bonding, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Slow Burn, Bonding, Magical Bond, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), POV Alternating, First Kiss, traumatic memories, Complete Summary:  Harry and Draco haven't seen each other for two years, then suddenly they're thrust together in bizarre circumstances. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, they get on with their new way of life. Eventually, they realise that this might not be so bad. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Show Me by loveglowsinthedark Rated:  Mature Words:  7355 Tags: eighth year, Patronus, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting, THEY'RE DORKS, Fluff, Harry Teaches Draco to Cast a Patronus, And like, other cute stuff happens, Gift Fic, background Ginsy Summary:  “We can be friends, if you like,” he says instead, nonchalant and careless. “What I’d like,” Potter says seriously, “is to kiss you.” Draco feels his jaw drop, feels the way his hair tumbles into his eyes when he whips around to stare at Potter. “What?” he breathes. “I think I’d like to kiss you,” Potter repeats sombrely, no hint of mirth evident. “You think?” Draco says steadily, proud of himself for holding himself together. Potter’s eyebrows slide up briefly but then Draco can’t think or act or speak or breathe because Potter is leaning in and cupping his cheek gently. “I know,” Potter says simply, and kisses Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Expecto Patronum by Magicaltally Rated:  General Audiences Words:  1432 Tags: Cute, Romance, Fluffy, Like, super fluffy, and cute, maybe? - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Drarry, Oneshot, One Shot, Short, but not really, Love, Sweet, Patronus, Harry is a Little Shit, draco is frustrated, Happy, can be funny at times Summary:  Draco is struggling to find a happy memory to produce a patronus, and Harry steps in to help. -Slash- my attempt at a fluffy oneshot! ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Potter-Malfoy School of Patronus Licensing and Identification by AhaMarimbas Rated:  Teen And Up Words:  1849 Tags: Original Character(s), Patronus, working together, Draco hates his job, Draco also likes to swear Summary: The Potter-Malfoy School of Patronus Licensing and Identification Unit 69 B, 303 Diagon Alley Open Monday to Saturday, 8am to 4pm Please floo for all queries or to schedule private instruction. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Til Death, Never May We Part  by carpemermaid Rated:  Mature Words:  5150 Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Near Death Experiences, Dementors, Patronus, Romance, Drama, HP: EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  This was meant to be their wedding day and here they are, both dying at the hands of Dementors. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara Rated:  Explicit Words:  31160 Tags: Blindness, Blind Character, Blind Harry Potter, Disability, Physical Disability, Disabled Character, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Love, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Dorks in Love, Friendship/Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Amortentia, Potions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Emotional, Emotional Roller Coaster, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Romantic Friendship, Best Friends, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, POV Harry Potter, Patronus, Spells & Enchantments, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Jealousy, Jealous Harry Potter, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Spin the Bottle, Halloween, Party, Party Games, Mistletoe, Kissing, Surprise Kissing, Boys Kissing, Rough Kissing, Drunken Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Boys In Love, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Emotional Sex, Awkward First Times, Sleeping Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Dancing, Showers, Masturbation in Shower, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Dreams, Fantasizing, Desire, Self-Esteem Issues, Substance Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Lights Camera Drarry 2020, Lights Camera Drarry, LCDrarry, LCD - Freeform, The Way he looks, film inspired, Self-Prompt, Healing Summary:  When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes. ❤️ Read on AO3