#oliver wood christmas

[7s3ven]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU. oliver wood

( master list )

IN WHICH… Nothing would make Oliver Wood happier than getting a new broom as his Christmas present. That, or Y/N Malfoy finally noticing him. When the two collide at Hogsmeade, Oliver is overjoyed. Perhaps this Christmas, he’ll get two gifts.

“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is you.”

—

“Ah, he’s staring again.” Fred Weasley nudged his twin brother George and pointed over at Oliver. “Do you think he’ll ever actually talk to her?”

“I’ve seen them talk once.” George uttered, his mouth full and his cheeks puffed out. “It was in their second year.”

Fred lightly snorted and waved a hand in front of Oliver’s face. “Wood, you there? You’re drooling this time while staring at her.”

Oliver was snapped out of his trance by the twins’ loud laughter. He frowned. “Knock it off.” He told the pair, taking a sip from his goblet.

“Oh, come on mate, you gotta talk to L/N otherwise she won’t even know you exist.” Fred sighed and quickly added, “And quidditch talk doesn’t count.”

Oliver huffed and rolled his eyes. Talking to Y/N was an almost impossible feat, not just to him. She was Draco Malfoy’s older sister and was basically untouchable. She was Slytherin’s prized queen and the chances of Oliver even being able to talk to her with her posse around was close to zero.

“I’ll talk to her eventually.” He uttered the same excuse he had been using since fourth year. His crush had lasted way too long but he was still determined to win Y/N over.

She wasn’t like the other Slytherins with their mean glares and tendencies to outcast people who weren’t pureblood. She was… nice. Her friends, however, weren’t.

“You’ve fancied her since third year, Oli.” Fred uttered, “Probably before that as well! Just make a move already!”

Oliver’s crush hadn’t begun during first year. It had started before that when he was rushing around Diagon Alley trying to find all his school supplies.

Oliver panted as he attempted to catch his breath. All afternoon he had been rushing from shop to shop to find all the books he needed for his first year at Hogwarts.

He held a pile of novels in his arms and momentarily stopped to marvel at the window of a broom shop. His awe was short lived as someone crashed into his back, sending his supplies everywhere.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I just wanted to look at the new broom!” A H/C-haired girl hurried to pick Oliver’s things up. She shoved everything into his arms, apologizing again.

“You… like Quidditch?” Oliver asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Huh? Of course. Who doesn’t? My father took me to see a game once and it was amazing. Some day, I want to join Hogwarts’ team.”

It was as if Oliver had met his dream girl.

“You’re going to Hogwarts too?!” Oliver exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.

“Yeah! I assume you’re also going, so maybe I’ll see you around.” She outstretched her arm to shake Oliver’s hand, but a black cane pushed her back.

“Don’t socialise with the trash, Y/N.” A man with long blond hair uttered, scowling. Oliver instantly recognized the man as Lucius Malfoy.

“I’ll see you around, Quidditch boy!” Y/N shouted as her father led her away.

That day, Oliver was reminded of where he stood in the scheme of things. He was a lowly half-blood while Y/N came from one of the most esteemed families.

Ever since that day, Oliver had been a little frightened to talk to Y/N, just in case she also referred to him as trash.

Y/N never did end up joining Slytherin’s Quidditch team. Her brother did instead. Oliver guessed it has something to do with her refusal to cheat, and Slytherin was infamously known for cheating.

“Say, are you going to Hogsmeade today, Oli? Perhaps to do a little last minute Christmas shopping?” George questioned, his lips curling into a smirk that could only mean one thing. Trouble.

“If you want to play one of your stupid pranks on me, forget it.” He stood up and silently walked away.

“Ah. He’s in a bad mood because of Y/N again. Jeez.” George rolled his eyes as he stabbed his fork into a carrot.

Oliver was going to visit Hogsmeade, but only to look at Quidditch shops and browse through the technique books. A Hufflepuff girl had asked him out, but he politely refused her offer.

Oliver shoved his hands deep into his warm pockets as he trudged through the thick snow. Hogsmeade wasn’t as busy as it usually was, but that was probably because most sane people wanted to avoid the cold.

The Quidditch captain made an immediate beeline for the broom store. He smiled as he gazed at the window display before entering.

“Good morning!” He kindly greeted the owner, who was an old lady hard of hearing. He immediately walked towards a shelve of books, running his finger over the hard covered spines.

The door opened again, the rusty bell attached to it quietly chiming. “Good morning, Gen!” A feminine voice shouted, piercing the calming atmosphere. Oliver peeked through the books, curious as to who the newcomer was. He could see their winter outfit but not their face.

The girl skipped over to the books, standing on the opposite side of Oliver. She locked eyes with him, and he could see her eyes squint as he smiled, meaning it was a genuine one.

The pair occasionally glanced at each other, jumping when they accidentally made eye contact. The girl tucked a strand of H/C hair behind her hair, quietly humming under her breath. She walked around to the other side of the bookshelf, almost crashing into Oliver.

His heart leaped in his chest as he grabbed Y/N and steadied her. “Sorry.” He said, not being able to muster up any more words.

Y/N silently stared at his face before she gasped. “Oh! Quidditch boy!” She exclaimed, grinning. “I knew I recognized those eyes!” When Oliver sent her a confused look, she laughed. “I’m the girl from Diagon Alley! Before first year, remember?”

“I remember… I’m just wondering why you do.”

“I spent most of my first year looking for you! But I never got your name so it was a bit hard. Then when you joined the Quidditch team and played your first match, I recognized you. I wanted to talk to you after but you seemed to have so many fangirls. I got shy!It’s been ages, jeez. How are you?”

Y/N grinned, an action that set butterflies free in Oliver’s stomach. His cheeks flushed red as he nervously smiled back.

“I’ve… been good. How about you? You never joined the Quidditch team.”

“Well, I don’t exactly like Flint and Draco is already on the team. They don’t need two Malfoy’s.” Y/N sheepishly smiled and laughed.

“I saw you play as a chaser during flying class. You were great. You should join the team some time.” That compliment coming from Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s very own keeper, was a huge deal. “You’d be a wonderful addition. If only you were in Gryffindor.”

Y/N quietly laughed. “Maybe we’d actually be able to spend time together.” Her gaze flickered to the book Oliver was grasping, “Are you going to buy that? I’ve been looking for a copy of it.” She smiled, and Oliver didn’t have the strength to keep the book to himself when she was looking at him like that.

“No.” He uttered, “I was only looking at it. Here.” He handed it to Y/N.

“Are you sure?” She asked, to which Oliver nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you borrow it. See you at school, Oliver.” She grinned again, skipping off to purchase the book.

Oliver stared at the ground, chuckling to himself as his cheeks turned rosy red.

School was finally coming to an end. Thank goodness. Oliver didn’t know how much more studying he could take before his brain gave up.

He returned to his dorm, tired and relieved to finally be returning home today. From his dorm, he heard his friends gasp.

“Ay, mate, there’s something on your bed for you.” One uttered as Oliver ended.

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at his mattress. A badly wrapped present sat on it along with a small card and the book he had let Y/N take.

Oliver grabbed the card, curiously staring at the cursive writing.

Consider this an early Christmas gift and my overdue apology on my father’s behalf (for calling you trash). You’re fun to talk to and I hope to see you around next year.

Merry Christmas, Oliver.

- Y/N

Oliver peeled the wrapping paper, almost choking when he saw the newest edition broom. It was shined and groomed to perfection and Oliver was sure he was going to pass out from excitement.

He slowly grasped the book, opening to the first page that was tabbed by a green sticky note.

On the blank page was the writing,

Merry Christmas, Oliver Wood

And underneath was the signature of Oliver’s favourite Quidditch player.

“She’s freaking amazing.” Oliver muttered under his breath, wondering how Y/N had even managed to pull all this off.

Oliver flipped through the pages, noticing how Y/N had annotated the book on his behalf. He was only falling deeper in love.

“I’m going to find Y/N.” He announced to his friends, who cheered.

“Go get ‘er, tiger!”

Oliver hurried out of the common room, wondering where on earth Y/N would be. The castle was huge, it would take him all day to find her. Luckily, he spotted Draco Malfoy walking down the corridor.

“Malfoy.” Oliver called out.

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you’re looking for my sister, she’s at the Black Lake. Don’t tell my parents you like her otherwise my stupid ship will be ruined.” And with that, he walked off.

Oliver ignored his odd words and rushed to the Black Lake. He saw Y/N sitting alone and humming to herself as she picked at the green blades of grass.

“You didn’t have to get me a broom, you know.” Oliver said, startling Y/N. She jumped slightly.

“You scared me! It wasn’t that much anyway… and it was on sale. So you don’t need to worry.”

Oliver spluttered. Not that much money? It was more than him and his friends’ bank accounts! Even if they combined all their money, it still wouldn’t be enough.

“The book by itself would have sufficed.” Oliver uttered as he took a seat next to Y/N.

“Yeah. But I had to up my game because other girls were eyeing you up.” Y/N grinned as she stood up, dusting the dirt off her skirt, “Merry Christmas, Oli. See you next year.”

Oliver spent his days before Christmas with the Weasley twins and more of his friends. Even Harry Potter was there. But one person was missing, much to his disappointment.

On Christmas Eve, he pondered what Y/N’s words at the Black Lake had meant. “I had to up my game because other girls were eyeing you up”. Did Y/N… like him back?

Oliver sighed, rushing to turn the lamp on his desk on. He pulled out a thick piece of parchment paper and began to messily scribble down his thoughts and everything he didn’t have the courage to say to Y/N in real life.

Oliver stared at his letter, sighing. He tried not to think too much as he rolled it up and sent his owl to the Malfoy Manor.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting by her window, relaxing as the fresh breeze blew through her hair. She heard a quiet chirp and opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar brown owl in front of her. It cooed and tilted its head.

Y/N slowly took the letter that was attached to the owl’s leg and got comfortable before she unravelled it.

Dear Y/N,

I know this letter may be unexpected and strange, especially since it’s Christmas Eve but those words you told me at the Black Lake are still stuck in my head. It feels a little lonely without you around. I’m going to be honest here… and hopefully you won’t laugh at how I pour my heart out.

I like you, Y/N. Not just for your looks or your family. You’re gorgeous, but there’s so much more to you that other guys can’t see for some reason. You’re kind and caring and you may as well be in Hufflepuff. Your ambition is admirable and you really know how to light up a room, even if it’s a room as big as the Great Hall.

You don’t look down on other people because they aren’t pure blood or come from a family like yours. Instead, you help them. There’s so many qualities that make you stand out from the crowd and I’m not expecting a reply any time soon, but I just thought you should know all this.

Santa Claus won’t really make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day. Y/N, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Please Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas… is you <3.

- Oliver Wood

P.S, thanks for the broom and book. I’m still trying to find a gift to top that.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she read Oliver’s letter. Her room door was suddenly slammed open. Y/N couldn’t react fast enough and all she could do was place the letter face down on her bed.

“Father.” She greeted him, surprised that he was even home. He was supposed to be on a business trip. “What… are you doing here?”

“Receiving love letters already, Y/N?” Her father carelessly grabbed the parchment, his gaze scanning over the beautifully crafted words. After a moment, he nodded. “What is his blood status?”

Y/N looked at the ground, thickly gulping. “… Half-blood.” She uttered after a second of hesitation.

Her father silently nodded, his stern face never changing. “I’ll allow it.”

“W-What?” Y/N stumbled over her own words. Ever since she was young, her father had preached about the importance of marrying another pure blood so this was entirely out of character for him.

“That Wood boy…” Her father thought for a moment before clicking his tongue, “He’s staying at the Weasley’s house. The elves have packed your bags already. You leave tomorrow morning.”

Y/N was speechless. Was this her father or a random intruder?

“Good night, Y/N.” And with that, he left. Y/N sat on her bed, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to process what had just happened.

A knock on the door interrupted breakfast for the Weasley family, Oliver, Harry, and Hermione.

Oliver, as charming as ever, stood up. “I’ll get it.” He offered, walking over to the door. He twisted the door knob and yanked it open, coming face to face with Y/N.

She smiled. “I hope I’m not intruding.” She uttered, peeking over Oliver’s shoulder. “I just wanted to quickly say one thing.”

Oliver could feel the prying eyes of Fred and George and he exasperatingly sighed, shutting the door behind him. “Yes?” His heart leaped in his chest as Y/N leaned forward with a grin.

“I like you too, quidditch boy.”

[blackbat05]

New Beginnings

Oliver Wood x Autistic! Reader

Plot: It's your final Christmas at Hogwarts but that doesn't mean you can't make new friends. While working at the school library, you meet a certain Qudditch Captain who has been observing you for longer than you think.

Genre: PG-13 (warning: suggested degrading terms towards people with special needs but not explicitly mentioned)

A/N: It's that time of the year and my obsession hasn't gone away actually, it's just been dormant. And what better time of the year to do a new character, one that I actually crushed on by simply just reading the books. Thanks @the-slumberparty for letting this gal write so many fics for end of the year!

Prompts in Bold!

***

It was a quiet day at the library. The semester break had just started and this meant that many students would be heading back home for the holidays.

You decided to stay at Hogwarts. Your friends expressed their pity but quickly forgot your supposed “plight” as they jabbered on about their holiday plans. Instead of cramped concert venues where wizards and witches would be rubbing all over each other, you decided to take on a position as library assistant at the school library. It was your final semester and you were going to miss this place. Soon, it would be the harsh environment of the working world and you weren’t quite ready to face it yet.

Apart from a student scribbling on his parchment, the library was empty. You decided to flip through the papers, looking at potential job openings for an educator at a school for young wizards and witches with special needs. You marked potential jobs with your wand, not noticing the young wizard in front of you.

“Oh my god! You scared me.” You jump a little at the sight of his burly figure.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, scratching his head sheepishly. “I was hoping you could help me find this book?” He passes you a piece of paper with the title scribbled on it.

“Professional Qudditch techniques?” You raised your brows, looking at the boy over the paper. You knew that you were talking to the Captain of Gryffindor’s Qudditch team. “I believed Madam Pince told me to stock this yesterday. Come along Wood.”

“You know who I am?”

A small smile forms on your lips. “Hard not to when your part of the Furious Seven.” You see his bemused expression and add on hurriedly, “I mean that’s what some people call the team.” You head down the aisle with Oliver Wood trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Here it is!” You beamed, passing him a thick magenta book.

Oliver beams and thanks you. “So, are you not going back for the holidays?”

“Nah. My family’s inviting relatives over and I don’t really want to answer their intrusive questions. Especially since we’re in our final year.” You say drily and Oliver solemnly nods in understanding. “Besides, I wanted to stay for the school’s Christmas dinner and celebration. I won’t be coming back next year so I want to have a magical Christmas. What about you? Surely you can’t be studying.”

He laughs, “Nope. I was hoping to practice some moves for the professional Qudditch tryouts next year. I’m trying out for Puddlemere United’s reserve team.”

“That’s great!” You say sincerely. “I hope you make it.”

“Thanks Y/N.”

You pause in your tracks, looking at him curiously. “How do you?”

“Know your name?” Oliver finishes helpfully. “Hard not to know the Witch who is advocating for the rights of Wizards and Witches with special needs and doing a far more excellent job than those in the Ministry.”

“You read my posts?” You refer to the commentary on the school’s newspaper and an independent newspaper from the Ministry that you were involved in.

“Of course I did. I’m not going to be reading whatever purist rubbish that the Ministry has.” Oliver responds. The two of you reach the counter and he waits for you to check out his book.

“Um. I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow. Since it's Christmas Eve.” He adds hastily as you looked at him curiously.

“Sure. I would like to get a book from the local bookstore. Perhaps we could have a few butter beers while we’re at it.” You suggest. Oliver grins and you can’t help but to match his as well. You’ve never talked to him for this long before and you’ve only seen him from afar at the Qudditch matches. Kind of odd really that he’s reaching out before the lot of you graduate.

“It’s a da- deal!” He agrees a little too loudly as Madam Pince shoots her head out from one of the shelves and gives him a glare. You giggle softly.

“It’s a deal.”

***

You meet Oliver at the entrance to Hogsmeade. You can’t help but to notice that even all under that clothing, Oliver’s physique was still prominent. You prayed that the cold weather would cool your cheeks.

“Shall we?” He offers and the two of you trudge along the snow covered path.

Despite the two of you only having a real conversation the day before, it felt as if like you've known him since the very beginning. As the Captain of the Qudditch team, you always thought that he would be unapproachable and up there. On the contrary, he was charming and jovial, making you laugh at an incident that he recounted on the Qudditch field.

"You know a lot about the sport." Oliver remarks as you also added in your two cents on the recent match between the bottom two teams on the league table.

"My dad watches it. He's a huge fan. I think the two of you will get on swimmingly."

"Why didn't you join Qudditch then?" Oliver asks. He clearly remembers in first year of broom practice with Madam Hooch, you were one of the few students who could control their broom with ease and even managed to have a good swing at the practice bludgers Madam Hooch threw at you.

"Let's just say that I was a free spirit." You enter the warm bookstore and greet the saleswizard who directed you to the newest releases. Satisfied with your find, you retrieve another book and thrust it into Oliver's hands.

"I didn't want to say anything while Madam Pince was there but this is the newest version of Professional Qudditch Techniques. It has a few extra pages at the back that discusses Puddlemere United's training system and why its so effective."

Oliver is about to reach out, presumably to pay but you have a tight grip on the book. "A Christmas present." You tell him.

You hurriedly look away and Oliver can't help but to notice how your sniffing due to the cold (and also nerves at your attempt to get closer to him). He doesn't know the actual reason for your sudden sinus of course so he wraps his scarf around your neck. The saleswizard gives you a playful grin and shake your head furiously while Oliver is engrossed in a sports magazine, blissfully unaware.

Your last stop for the day was the Three Broomsticks. Oliver orders two mugs of butterbeer that you force yourself not to down with relish.

"Thanks for today." You nurse your mug. "I really enjoyed it. Best Christmas ever."

"So did I. My parents wanted me to be home for the holidays but I'm glad I made the right decision." Oliver has an unreadable expression and a honey-like gaze that would have gotten you stuck if you were transfixed on him any longer. The bell to the Three Broomsticks rings, signaling new customers and also the change in Oliver's expression.

"Flint." He hisses and you turn around to see the Slytherin Captain with a bunch of his cronies snarling at Oliver. Flint had a nasty grin plastered on his face. Oliver takes you by the wrist and you end up sitting beside him as the group approaches menacingly.

"What do we have here? I didn't know you had time to pick up girls?" Marcus Flint's slimy undertones made your skin crawl. You unknowingly grip Oliver's hands tighter under the table. You never liked the whole lot of them. For a very good reason as well. They would constantly make hateful and degrading comments at the cause that you were championing, even going as far as harassing you anonymously with thinly veiled death threats. You couldn't catch everyone, but you knew Marcus was one of many.

"Sod off Flint." Oliver shoots but obviously falls on death ears. In fact, this eggs on Marcus' taunts. His eyes fall on you and narrow into slits. You almost shrink into a ball and this does not go unnoticed by Oliver.

“So, L/N. Written any tasteless posts lately?”

Your mouth goes dry and Marcus continues to launch his assault on you. He turns to one of his cronies. “Hey, did anyone see that post about how wizards and witches with special needs should be able to attend schools?”

A snort of assent goes around and you go bright pink, fighting to keep your temper down in a public place.

“What a whole lot of dung that was. Hogwarts is already ridden with blood traitors and mudbloods. We certainly don’t need more charity cases.”

This time, you find yourself holding onto Oliver whose knuckles have gone red. He knew that both your parents were muggles.

“Did you know?” Marcus says to no one in particular but his voice is annoyingly loud. “I’ve heard a rumor.” His smile is almost sinister. “Y/N here is apparently… a special needs witch as well. A reta-”

Before Marcus can get another word out, a loud sickening crunch could be heard from Oliver’s fist coming into contact with Marcus’ jaw.

“You keep your bloody mouth shut Flint!” Oliver was shaking in rage. “Y/N, let me at him!”

“Oliver stop! He’s not worth it!” You hold him back while Marcus is held up by his cronies. “Please!” You stand in front of him and this seems to snap Oliver out of his rage induced trance. “Get lost before I break your hand next.” He snarls.

Marcus keeps his mouth shut but is shaking from fury and embarrassment from the attention that the scuffle had attracted. He storms out of the establishment, cronies slithering behind him. The Three Broomsticks resumes its normal hustle, leaving you and Oliver to clean up the mess that was a result of the fight.

You stay silent throughout the rest of the trip, all the way back to Hogwarts. Oliver thinks that he’s royally screwed up this time and is wrecking his brains on how to apologize.

“Come on in.” You tickle the pear and the door to the Hufflepuff common room opens. “Let me see your hand.”

Oliver blinks but doesn’t say anything. He follows you quietly into the common room that was thankfully empty.

“Sit.” You direct him to the sofa as you rummage through the shared medical supplies. You wordlessly take his hand and Oliver goes stiff as a gargoyle. Working your magic, the bruise on Oliver’s hand is virtually non existent and doesn’t feel sore when he grabs the cup of water on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” You speak up. “No one ever has done that for me.” You throw the last of the medicinal jars into the kit, returning it back to its original place with a flick of the wand.

“It’s what I would have done. You’re a hundred times better than them, pureblood or not.” Oliver states. Curiosity crawls up his neck and he wants to ask about the unsavory rumor about you floating around Hogwarts. But you beat him to it first.

“When I was four, I wasn’t hitting the typical milestones a wizard or witch would. My parents were worried and sent me to every muggle doctor and therapist in hopes that I would get better. It was a tough journey but with my parents’ support, I’m able to be here today.” You explained. “That’s why I’m so passionate about what I do. Because I see myself in them. Hell, I am them.”

“I didn’t know.” Is all Oliver can say. You smile sadly.

“I didn’t tell anyone. Despite what I’m doing, you’ll be surprised that there’s still stigma surrounding the magical world regarding special needs wizards as witches.”

A lull of silence falls between the two of you.

“Well, you’re still the same in my eyes.” Oliver insists. “Beautiful, brave and bold.” He realizes what he had just said and goes beet red. You can’t help but to think it’s adorable.

“Thanks. For believing in me.” Before you can even understand what is happening, the door to your heart has opened. You feel vulnerable but strangely… you’re okay with that. You lean forward and give him a kiss on his cheek.

The sight in front of you is hilarious - Oliver holds a hand to his cheek, mouth slightly agape. You laugh at his apparent shock and you don’t know where you get the bravery or confidence from.

“Do you need me to kiss you again?”

Oliver snaps out of his stupor and this time it’s his turn to leave you stuttering. “Yeah. I need you to kiss me properly this time.”

A pair of wolf whistles emit from the entrance of the common room and you see a familiar pair of redheads with identical grins.

“Way to go Cap!”

“And we thought you were only married to Qudditch!”

Oliver rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Piss off you two.”

George Weasley raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t your get your pants in a twist Wood. We just wanted to tell you that Christmas dinner is starting in ten. We couldn’t find you in the common room so we’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Everywhere except here apparently.” Fred adds helpfully, dodging a cushion that Oliver throws his way.

“Don’t be late!” The twins singsong and leaves you two alone once again.

"I'm so sorry about those two." Oliver groans. To his surprise, you didn't look the slightest bit mad. You shift closer to him and Oliver has to steady his heart as you look at him.

"Can I hold your hand?"

Oliver goes slack for a moment. It's funny if he thinks about it. You've kissed him on the cheek for Godric's sake! But like on the Qudditch pitch, he recovers quickly and takes the lead instead, reaching out to grab your hand that slots perfectly with his. As you leave the common room and head to the Great Hall where you can already hear the festivities in full swing, Oliver stops abruptly.

He looks so serious that you wondered if he completely malfunctioned from the moment you two had in the common room.

"You forgot something," Oliver says and you feel his lips on yours. He slowly parts, observing your expression with a lopsided grin. "A kiss."

A cold gust of wind brushes by and the two of you look out to see the first snowfall of your last year at Hogwarts. "What do you know? First snowfall of our first day together."

Once you snap out of your trance, you playfully smack him on his broad shoulder and he sprints away from you.

"You are a cheeky one Oliver Wood!" You yell.

"Yeah?" He turns around, stopping right outside the entrance of the Great Hall. "But at least I'm yours! Hey! Everyone!" He attracts attention from everyone in the hall - students, professors and even Headmaster Dumbledore himself. "I'm finally going out with Y/N L/N!"

You run after him as loud whoops from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table could be heard. Even the faculty were exchanging serene smiles at the sight of young love despite the imminent tough times that were about to descend on them any moment.

It was your last year at Hogwarts. Your final Christmas celebration with a place you called home for the past seven years. But with every ending, comes a new beginning.

In this case, one that involved a very charming Qudditch Captain who saw you for who you were.

[gods-graveyard]

Harrys First Christmas in the Den

(Lighting gets a little wonky but its my first time doing that and also backgrounds so honestly I give myself props for not just crying-)

Cassius and Marcus are digging their own grave, but honestly how can you say no to that face. Aka Harry has the upmost adorable privilage.

This scene is from my fic BUT hasnt been updated to this chapter yet, though I got impatient and now im posting ahead of time. Plz check it out if you havent already otherwise enjoy the lil sneak peak!!

(Also for that ONE bookmark that says "Good snape tag but not there yet" YOUR FINALLY GETTING GOOD SNAPE CONTENT-)

Edit- By Galaxy Trio I mean Percy x Oliver x Marcus (aka my favorite poly background slowburn :))

[digthewriter]

FEST: A Very Weasley Christmas

Title: a good morning | Pairing: Oliver/Percy

[swolocup]

New thought:

Oliver wood owns a muggle camera.

Am I going to elaborate? Yes

Oliver totally got one from Percy in their fourth year during Christmas.

Oliver was talking about how he wished he was able to take photos of the team so he could make a bulletin of their set up.

Percy was happy to oblige and make his friend (boyfriend) happy.

Some of the photos also have just goofy things of the team.

For example:

The first photo Oliver took is a blurry photo of Percy in the Gryffindor common room with a large smile on his face holding a book on the “Greatest ministers of all time”, a gift from Oliver of course.

One photo has second year Fred and George pretending their beater clubs are swords.

Another photo includes Percy in his bed, hair tousled and he is clutching his stuffed bear. (Oliver keeps this photo in his pocket and kisses it before every match.)

There is a photo of Katie Bell going to swing at Fred for turning her owl into a bell. “Look at your Bell, Bell!” “DIE IN A PIT, WEASLEY!”

There is a photo of Percy studying, nose scrunched up and glasses on the very top of his nose as he looks down at a book he’s reading.

[spotofimagines]

Dating George Weasley as a Ravenclaw would include...

A/N: This is the longest Would Include I've done, so long there's a read more! But I'm in a Weasley mood lately so here you go!

George Weasley x Ravenclaw reader

He sits and watches you study in the library every now and then.

Sometimes he just wants the company but is too tired to do anything but he doesn't want to interrupt you so he sits slumped in his chair, watching you write or holding your ink for you.

Other times, he will be scribbling doodles for a new sweet Fred wants to sell, heaps of parchment mixing with yours.

He always helps you put your books back when you're finished, traipsing behind you with heavy feet, but helping nonetheless.

You're the first person he comes to for help with pranks. He and Fred come up with the ideas, but you know whether the potion ingredients will work, how to say the spell properly and whether the creature they want to release in the Slytherin common room will destroy the whole school. They really would have been expelled by now if not for you.

You also helped them branch out their business by selling stuff in the Ravenclaw common room since they aren't allowed in there.

You become very popular amongst first-year troublemakers, and the small group of older Ravenclaws set up a space in the corner of the common room to buy the concoctions that will give them more time to finish their essays.

George makes sure none of his antics blow back on you. You work far too hard to have your post-school career knocked because you got too many detentions and failed your exams and he knows it.

Although you are on Filch's bad side for distracting him whilst the twins get their confiscated items from his office. And George's response to that? "Who isn't on his bad side?"

He absolutely rubs it in your face when Gryffindor beats Ravenclaw in a quidditch match, whether you really care or not, that's what he'll be spending an hour doing after he's won.

You have a running deal; you buy him a butterbeer for each match he wins and he buys you dinner each time he loses to Ravenclaw. So far George has had countless drinks. You are yet to have one meal.

He always gives you his things to wear; jumpers, hats, scarves, anything really.

But he will never, absolutely never, wear your Ravenclaw scarf; lord help him you'd think the thing was made of fire by the way he avoids it.

You don't know Oliver Wood very well, but he gave you one of the biggest scoldings you have ever received when George couldn't play a quidditch match because you'd been chasing him in the courtyard with your scarf and he fell over his own feet, landing weirdly on his elbow and hip.

After the stern lecture from Oliver and spending two days in the hospital wing with George and occasionally Fred, who found the whole ordeal hilarious, you didn't tease him with your Ravenclaw items again for a long time. He still avoids that scarf like the plague.

You're the only friend of the twins that Percy can tolerate.

Probably because when you visited The Burrow during Christmas breaks, you talked to him about his work and being head boy without ridiculing him. (And you smack George's arm when he makes rude jokes which Percy quite enjoys seeing).

George sits and listens to you rant when you need it.

He watches as you pace back and forth, words never stopping until you've gotten everything out. Then he just pulls you into a long tight hug before he tries to distract you from your problem.

About half of George's herbology work is written by you, and half his transfiguration work and probably half his care for magical creatures work too if he didn't manage to weasel Charlie into unknowingly writing him an essay every month in his letters.

George 100% tries making a million invisibility products and polyjuice potions to try and sneak into your common room at night, but Hogwarts is much too equipped to let him find success at it.

So you had to find a secret spot in the castle for your late-night rendezvous without teachers or prefects finding out.

At first, it was the girls' lavatories but Myrtle's snooping and laughter made it less than perfect. The ghost whispering in his ear halfway through a makeout session made George far too irritated to go there for a third time.

He leaves you little love notes all over the place, some telling you to keep smiling, some telling you a weird joke, some telling you how smoking you look (and now you definitely have to make sure no one can see these notes except you!).

When you have exams or projects due his love notes get more frequent since he knows you'll be stressed and seeing him less.

He always attempts to eat every meal with you in the great hall. This way you can catch up on what you've both been up to and how your classes have been while he makes sure you remember to take breaks from studying to eat properly.

If things get in the way (*cough* detention *cough*) he will take you out to The Three Broomsticks on the weekend, just the two of you, and maybe Fred, but he swears he told Fred not to come this time!

He told you about the marauders' map a day after finding it because he was certain there was something special about the spare roll of parchment in Filch's office they found under Fred's nose-biting teacups.

It was you nonchalantly guessing there's a spell keeping its contents secret before carrying on reading your book that gave him the best tool he could have wished for.

That's why you're the only other person who knows about the map. You've spent many hours sitting tucked into his side, munching on chocolate frogs and watching people walk around on the paper.

That's how you found out Fred and Angelina were dating but George's excitement to tease them about it more mischievously outweighed your want to learn the details from your friend.

Despite all of George's silliness and trouble, he might just be one of the smartest people you know outside of Ravenclaw.

Not that anyone else believes you when you say it, as his pranks are known to be foolish, but you've seen the way he and Fred create their products and plan their business throughout the years. No one else has the mix of academic and streets smarts to be that successful, you're sure of it.

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Three)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Word count: 1.7k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

N.F.I., Me and You

There was a college Christmas party tonight. You and Michael heard about it. No one told you, of course. You just overheard it from people who didn’t know you were listening. They didn’t invite you. That was a given. When you asked Michael if he was upset about not getting an invitation, he responded (oh-so maturely) by blowing raspberries. Not in your face, though. He’s not an animal.

You quickly learned that not being invited to a college party (of any kind, because you weren’t invited to any of them) had a bright side - the library was all for you. Completely vacant. Quiet and vacant. Your go-to spots are in the back, where shelves wall you in and gawkers can’t peer in through the windows and interrupt your flow. No one does that, but it can feel that way. There was no need to look over your shoulder here. There was no open space for a person to exist. Only books and just enough room to scoot out of your chair. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper, a comforting scent that always made you feel at ease. The yellow lights in the ceiling cast a soft, steady hum, adding to the peaceful silence.

Most people who show up to the library treat the place like it’s social hour, gathering around tables to chat shit, drown in coffee (that they weren’t supposed to have inside), and not touch a single book. Which is another reason you choose this location every time; no one finds this area entertaining for long. You wouldn’t be surprised if only a few people knew about its existence.

And speaking of only a few people, Michael emerged between the bookshelves, peeking from the side like he was going to scare you.

Well, he did scare you. Startle is a better word for it. You jerked in your seat at the sight of him in your peripheral. The look of instant regret played on his face; wide eyes and a gaped mouth. He apologized with a frantic, “Sorry, sorry!”

You laughed in spite of it. “If you wanted to kill me, then just say it, Michael.”

He snickered at you. “I knew you’d be here. And I wanted to see you.”

Then you looked down at what he was holding. Not books, as expected.

Michael’s eyes darted from the table to you. “Here, I brought you something.” He set the mugs down (a decaf Americano for him, a white macchiato for you). The thud of ceramic against lacquered wood echoed in the quiet, similar to the thud of your heart against your ribs, only on repeat. The rich aroma of coffee wafted up, mingling with the scent of the old books, creating an oddly comforting blend.

You were stunned by it. Not just because of the gesture (it was such a sweet gesture), but because of the obvious. “Michael,” you said to him, “you know the rules.”

“I do.” He smirked, then took the seat across from you, adjusting his glasses.

“Then why’d you bring open drinks from the shop?”

“Because no one stopped me.”

“If we get caught, then we’ll get in trouble.” The anxiety alone of getting into trouble was enough to make your leg bounce. Yet you tried to swallow down the fear. Your throat was already so dry from the winter weather, and you could already feel a sweat percolating under your collar.

“No. They like you too much. Because you don’t do anything.”

That was true, at least. You didn’t know if they necessarily liked you, but for someone who doesn’t leave the dorms much, you’re at least recognizable considering that they smile when you visit.

Michael pushed your macchiato toward you, and you worried it would spill. You pondered, looking at the coffee, then back up to Michael as if he were making you choose between the red or blue pill. The macchiato beckoned you in anyway, so you lifted it to your lips like there was no turning back. It soothed your throat from the winter air. “Thank you.” You pulled a napkin from your blazer pocket to wipe the froth off your mouth. Michael didn’t pick up on how deep your breaths were (because he wasn’t looking at you. He was poking around in his satchel). It was difficult to capture a good amount of air to fill your lungs and rid them of the lingering anxiety. The sip of caffeine you just took was definitely not going to help, but at least it was delicious.

“Also, I wanted to give this back to you.” He held up a collection of Kate Chopin’s short stories. He extended his arm across the table for you to take it.

You did and quickly flipped through the book before putting it in your bag. He completed reading The Awakening a week after he began and was delayed in cracking open her short stories. “So, what did you think?”

“I see why you like ‘A Story of an Hour’ so much. Very much your style of humor.”

At least this time at the end, the woman dying had a funny layer to it; seeing her husband actually not dead from a reported accident made her “die of joy” when she, once again, was happy to not be married anymore.

He picked up his Americano. “I definitely see the pattern you’re talking about. With the marriage part. But it makes sense why it would be so consistent. Given the time and all.”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you said it. Despite your hesitation, you still reached out to take another drink. You could already feel the caffeine coursing. As you tried to steady your breath, you scanned your notes again. You could feel Michael’s eyes on you, and you were afraid he was noticing. “How’s Oliver?”

Michael sighed. “Dunno. I’ve seen him staring a lot at Felix Catton and his group of fucking losers. He’s been acting differently.”

“Really? You think they’re friends?”

“Michael shrugged, his arms still flat on the table. “Not sure. I’ve never seen them together. He still doesn’t talk much, so not the same on the charisma scale.”

Maybe he has a crush on him. Has he talked about him?” You asked slowly, as you swallowed.

“Not around me. He didn’t know about the party either.”

“Hm,” you simply said. Your fingers twitched as the energy reached the ends of your feet. You swore you heard footsteps somewhere between the shelves where Michael came in. You were almost convinced that someone would catch you, clenching your teeth as you prepared for inevitable embarrassment.

Michael leaned back in his chair, looking down the aisle. “No one’s there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I think someone was just walking by. No big deal.”

“Okay.” Your exhale was slow before picking your pen back up. You lost track of where you were in your rewrites. People like Felix and Venitia Catton and their peers may be more popular, drunk, and social than you’ll ever be, but their grades matter by the end of the semester. At least one of them always needs notes for classes they didn’t attend, especially if they need to retake the class. They’re just as vain, so aesthetically pleasing notes will sell more. You searched through, trying to find where you left off. But your leg bounced once more, the small heel of your shoe growing obnoxious.

“Still nervous?”

You nodded as you searched, finding where you left off and trying to concentrate on your handwriting; being slow and methodical to keep it as neat as a font.

“You can dare to take risks now and then, you know. It’s not always going to turn out as bad as you think.” His tone was earnest as he leaned forward slightly.

But you gripped your pen to instinct, pausing as your stare turned hard, finding Michael in your crosshairs.

He rested his head on the table. His lips disappeared into his mouth briefly as he started to put together that he may have fucked up. “What?”

Okay, maybe not.

“You know it’s not that simple for me. You, of all people, should know that it’s not that simple, Michael.”

“Phobias are irrational. They feed on an extreme lack of logic.” He said it with a mix of defense in his argument. It was as if this was something up for debate.

“I understand how phobias work, Michael. Like you, I am a student at Oxford University. I may not be a genius like you, but I understand my phobia from years of my research and experience.”

Michael picked his head back up. Perhaps the growing heat from your anger started brushing against him. “I just…” his back hit the chair and his posture sank. “I’d rather not see you miss out on four years of Oxford University.”

“My time at Oxford University is for education. Just like yours.”

“You know what I mean.” He blinks as his glasses slide down his nose.

“Do I?”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned forward, reaching a hand out. He was literally trying to bridge the gap. Any other time, you would’ve taken it.

“You can’t control that.”

“But you can control cows?” The hand was gone, and his tone turned sharp as his words sliced through the library's quiet. “You deserve a break from the academic side of all this. Like everyone else.”

“You think the outside world is a break for me?”

“Well, not exactly but—”

You snapped your notebooks closed and stood to put on your overcoat. “I need to go.” You struggled to keep your voice steady, mapping out the typical path from the library to your dorm.

“Wait, don’t.” He reached out, but you gave him nothing.

You didn’t respond or even look at him. The Christmas party was likely still happening, given it was only seven in the evening. You hoped Michael wouldn’t get up. You hoped he’d let you leave. He knew you didn’t like feeling trapped, but he didn’t seem to know (or care) as much as you thought he did.

You were mindful as you walked between the shelves, conscious of the bookbag you held against your hip and making sure it didn’t knock any books to the floor. The trickle of tears lined your eyes and burned as you tried to hold them back. The library's warmth, once comforting, now felt suffocating, and you longed for the crisp air outside.

Taglist: @anukulee

[thealexandriaarchives]

The Arrakis Royal Ballet in Arrakeen has just had a crisis of leadership under the management of the CHOAM Foundation which oversees its board, and Vladimir Harkonnen has been ousted as chairman, which means two things: Oh thank god we don't have to watch the same 5 Tchaikovsky shows over and over again this season, Swan Lake and The Firebird are FINE but GOD- and the Company's default leading man for every performance, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will suddenly have to compete for his slot.

That's totally fine, but the next person to fill the board's slot is Leto Atredies, a man who's actively investigating the Harkonnens for using the Ballet for money laundering as well as reputation laundering, and his son, Paul Atredies, is about to make his international debut after being quietly... discouraged, from applying. Still, whether as a PR move or an olive branch, Leto suggests a Ballet to fit the bill: Giselle.

It's French, so it will give people something different from the aggressively Russian fare Vlad had selected for the last several seasons. ...A bit unfair, perhaps, Chani had been hoping for Balanchine outside of Christmas, but Feyd never expected he'd even get so much as Italian. Paul Atredies was taught by masters in the classical French schools and he's got the light, precise, delicate footwork and speed to show for it. Hell with that slight frame, and some of the moves Feyd has seen him do on TikTok, which is about the only place he's been able to perform up until now, there have even been whispers he could perform the female roles just as easily.

But Giselle is good. It will give Chani some space to show off her acting chops as she falls in love and goes insane, casts Irulan well as a cold and vicious wraith queen, ordering men to their deaths, and it's underperformed- often because it requires two strong male leads in the same company.

As soon as he hears the name Feyd-Rautha doesn't kid himself about which role he'll be playing. Even if he didn't personally prefer Hilarion to the lying noble prick Albrecht is revealed to be, there's no way the new chairman's son and anointed star is going to be the one drowned like a rat in a bucket by the end of act two.

Besides, Feyd knows what the last act requires physically, and he's seen Atredies throwing his whole body into full spins again and again through the air in his million dollar barre studio online. Feyd's just not going to let a spoiled green debutante get away with blowing this for everyone else.

So on the first day of rehearsals, while Chani and Stilgar are off with the set designer, discussing the frankly insane decision to replace the woods and lake with a desert terrain out of Lawrence of Arabia, Feyd-Rautha sidles up to their untested new danseur noble as he laces his shoes.

"I hear you're our new Duke of Arrakis."

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

I ain’t missing you at all  (requires an ao3 account) by @blitheringmcgonagall

Set post first wizarding war. "Lily Evans disappeared just when the war with Voldemort ended. Nobody knows why she left. James Potter doesn't care. He hasn't missed her at all."

It reads like a character study. All of the repressed emotions are so well-portrayed that I could picture all their facial expressions and body language. The dynamic between Lily and the marauders really illustrated how she wasn't just James' girlfriend - she was their friend too. I just wanted to give them all a hug.

Up In Arms by @mppmaraudergirl

When Lily jokingly tells her owl to deliver a letter to "the love of her life", i.e. Marlene McKinnon, her owl misinterprets the directive and, to her horror, her ode to James Potter’s arms lands squarely in his lap.

The banter in this one is so good that it made my friend fall back in love with jily's dynamic and read fics again

Evergreen and Pine by @tinyluminaryzombie

Lily Evans is stuck in a closet with Sirius. All Sirius wants to talk about is exactly what she's trying not to think about: James Potter.

Or: A seven minutes in heaven that's more like seven minutes of sweet sweet interegation ft. Lily and Sirius.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by @jfleamont

Lily's an overthinker, but fear not, James knows exactly what to say to cheer her up.

Because Lily being a stress smoker is canon (to me)

All The Things I Would Do also by @/ jfleamont

Lily can't stop thinking about James' hands.

Anything Leda writes is great so do yourself a favour and go read her works

I’ve Got My Hate to Keep Me Warm by @dizzy–bird

When a mission for the Order goes badly wrong, Lily Evans must spend the holidays lying low in the middle of nowhere. The rules: no magic, no visitors, and absolutely no Christmas cheer.

And the kicker? She’s sharing the safe house with Order darling – and rival – James Potter, who just happens to be the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.

Kat's poem from 10 Things I Hate About You

Hemispheres by @ohmygodshesinsane

James Potter and Lily Evans have set aside their schoolyard animosities for the sake of the Order of the Phoenix, but when they are enlisted to race Lord Voldemort across the world to prevent him from corrupting the very nature of death, tensions run high. In all manners.

Lily's characterisation in this one is so good

No One Knows Us by @annasghosts

As Fifth Year begins, Lily Evans is certain of a few things: she’s proud to be a Muggle-born witch, despite what Petunia might think; Severus Snape is still a loyal friend and whatever confusing feelings she has as she watches James Potter strut around the castle must be squashed because he’s nothing, but an arrogant toerag.

In which Lily gets the dynamic character treatment that she deserves.

51 Minutes to Change Your Mind by @sosohh

When Muggle-Born Oliver Wood becomes an extremely successful cyclist for the British Cycling team, both muggle and magical ministries have to come up with a plan to make sure all is fair. Enter James Potter and Lily Evans.

The Art of Self-Defense by cgner (on ao3)

Gilmore Girls AU in which "after seventeen years of single parenting, she now has to manage a persistent James, nosy villagers, and a son who's all too interested in joining the Order."

[badolmen]

When I was little, some Palestinian Christians came to our church.

They didn’t call themselves that, of course, being in a white, right leaning American town in the mid to early 2010s. ‘Fellow Catholics from the Holy Land’ the reader for the week announced them as. After mass there were always announcements, and I remember this Arab man with a dark jacket taking to the pulpit. He and those with him were sitting in the front pew - just ahead of where my family sat each week.

He talked about his home in Bethlehem - though it was a little out of season, Christmas well since passed. He talked about the poverty there, the socioeconomic factors that made life difficult for Palestinians, but this was after a long Irish mass with a long Irish homily and no one was listening that intently. My mom whispered that he didn’t have much of an accent, and my dad whispered back that he agreed - not too difficult to understand.

They were here to sell treasures from the Holy Land. Hand carved olive wood rosaries and prayer beads, nativity sets, reliefs of the last supper. ‘A trade passed down from father to son for generations.’

The most expensive item they had was a lovely crucifix - olive wood inlaid with a hand carved mosaic of mother of pearl, four wells at the end of each piece of the cross containing olive leaves, incense, stones, and soil. It was over $50 - I remember because I begged my mother to let me spend my usual summer stipend of $25 for the next two years, and it still wasn’t quite enough. A few dollars short. But he gave it to me anyway.

For years I almost never took it out of its box - it was too pretty, I was too afraid to break it. I first hung it up after I moved out for college - it always caught the thin winter sunlight in my dorm room and seemed to glow. But it got dusty, and was difficult to clean with all its intricacies, so I put it back in its box. Safe with the dried palm leaves from last year’s Lent.

I saw a post a bit ago, mentioning how hand carved mother of pearl is a more obscure Palestinian art form, and I remembered my crucifix. I remembered the Palestinian Christian man who nobody really listened to at 9 AM on a Sunday while their kids begged to leave and get breakfast.

I counted the individual pieces of mother of pearl today. There’s 89. The cross itself is made of 14 pieces of olive wood perfectly slotted together. The figure of Christ is silver, weathering green with age. I’ve never washed this crucifix, but I probably should. There’s a stamp across the back - ‘Jerusalem’ - and another, fainter (quickly pressed with just too little ink) - ‘Mother of Pearl is Hand Made by Christian Families in the Hole Land.’ That’s not a typo - the stamp has an ‘e’ instead of a ‘y.’ It’s smudged, so maybe there’s an ‘i’ in there, but maybe not.

I looked up the company that made it today. Their website is freshly dated for 2024 in the bottom right hand corner, but they haven’t updated their blog posts since 2022. The posts that are up talk of sites of faith, the art process, and COVID. There’s a noticeable number of spelling and grammar errors, but I don’t really care.

The cross I own is listed as a work from Majdi Alshayeb. I can’t find them on social media, not at first glance. I hope they’re well. I wish they knew how I’ve revered this crucifix more as a work of art than as a symbol of faith. I hope God is with them.

[7s3ven]

HARRY POTTER... masterlist

[ full masterlist ]

who i write for ,

Harry Potter - Slytherin gang (fancast too), Golden trio, Tom Riddle, Cedric Diggory, Weasley twins

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

tom riddle... OBSESSION

IN WHICH… Tom Riddle is partnered with a Gryffindor for potions. He expects them to crush every assignment sent their way, but what he doesn’t expect is him falling in love.

theodore nott... ONE CUP OF COFFEE

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

theodore nott... THE IDEA OF US

IN WHICH… the saddest thing in a relationship is knowing you met the wrong person at the wrong time yet you still can’t let them go.

theodore nott... BACK TO THE START

IN WHICH… theodore nott is dating the perfect girl, yet prefers to keep her hidden from his friends.

'23 CHRISTMAS SERIES

tom riddle... LAST CHRISTMAS

IN WHICH… Tom can’t fall in love, he shouldn’t fall in love. So why does he love Y/N L/N with her yellow robes, doe eyes, and her obsession with snow so much that he’d kill anyone in his path to get to her?

( last christmas - wham! )

harry potter... BUY ME PRESENTS

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N’s situationship, Matteo Riddle, isn’t the best boyfriend material and when he forgets to buy her a Christmas present, she finally breaks it off. Luckily, she knows someone who’ll do everything Matteo didn’t.

( buy me presents - sabrina carpenter )

oliver wood... ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

IN WHICH… Nothing would make Oliver Wood happier than getting a new broom as his Christmas present. That, or Y/N Malfoy finally noticing him. When the two collide at Hogsmeade, Oliver is overjoyed. Perhaps this Christmas, he’ll get two gifts.

( all i want 4 christmas is u - mariah carey )

cedric diggory... CINDY LOU WHO

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N helps her crush and longtime best friend, Cedric Diggory, get with another girl. Deep down, she knows she’ll never be the bright and bubbly girl Cedric wants. She’ll always be the cunning snake with a knack for starting fights.

( cindy lou who - sabrina carpenter )

draco malfoy... SANTA, TELL ME

IN WHICH… Draco Malfoy no longer enjoys Christmas, especially not when he has to stay at Hogwarts while all his friends are gone. But a certain bright-eyed Hufflepuff is glad to keep him company.

( santa, tell me - ariana grande )

[t1oui]

tastastastassss please would you share some percy weasley headcanons or thoughts about him in general

(just remembered he and oliver wood were in the same year and thus dorm... and percy gives me Massive twink energy, like a less dramatic francis abernathy)

HI YES i will indeed do this

so yeah in canon percy and oliver shared a dorm but in my mind there is no way percy weasley isn't in slytherin so my percy shares a dorm w marcus flint instead. anyways here are some headcanons

he's very bisexual and yes definitely a twink

he's also tall. probably one of if not the tallest guys in his year

good poker face but this man is a huge simp. for christmas, valentine's day, oliver's birthday, etc. he always panics on what to buy and gets oliver like 40 things including like 8 bouquets of flowers lol

penelope clearwater and marcus flint are his best friends other than oliver !! these four are chaotic. marauders vibes but they don't get caught

definitely a bit of a drama queen, but he hates when people (marcus) point it out b/c he does not see himself that way.

studies too hard for his own good and still has time for quidditch somehow (he's only playing to beat fred and george. he's a chaser btw)

actually very sensitive. like he will be stoic until something inconveniences him and then he will SOB

hates himself a little bit (sometimes a lot) because he's so different from his family

insecure about his freckles

takes younger slytherin students (like draco malfoy) under his wing because he knows what it's like to be part of the house everybody hates

fully despises dumbledore

always the first to notice when something's wrong (quirrell being sus, something being wrong with "moody"/crouch sr, etc) but alwasy the last person adults listen to

has been best friends with ginny since she was a little kid

does more for his siblings than they realize. cares about them so much, and his heart breaks every time they choose to fight with him or tease him instead of seeing how fucked up it is that he was shunned for being different

was almost put in gryffindor/is in gryffindor because he's extremely brave

was put in slytherin/almost put in slytherin because he will do anything for those he cares about, even if it's considered morally wrong

has and will use unforgivables; they're just spells to him, they're not anything scary or different

patronus is a crow

animagius form (i told you he and his friends were like the marauders lol) is a cat

if he notices two people pining for each other he will do everything in his power to make them date because he's quite the romantic. oliver helps.

has trained himself not to blush because he's so pale he just turns into a beet if he blushes at all (his friends, oliver especially, still make him go red occasionally)

cut off contact with arthur and molly for a little while after the war and was only really talking to ginny, occasionally charlie and bill

becomes head of the dmle

starts a petition after the war to get the atrium statue at the ministry - which shows a bunch of non-wizard creatures looking up to wizards like they're the superior beings - taken down. he does not shut up about this project until the statue is replaced, he hates it so much

that's all for now !! but feel free to send me more asks, ty for this one :)

[valtsv]

it makes me kinda sad when i think about all the interesting friends and acquaintances my parents used to have who they just... don't talk about anymore, let alone talk to or spend time with, because they went off the deep end with facebook conspiracy theories and antivaxx bullshit and generally turned into weirdo conservatives. like the slavic orthodox monk who used to play football with me and my brother when he came to visit sometimes, or the japanese photographer whose parents sent us cultural exchange gifts every christmas, or the polish woman who toured the world with a dancing/theatre troupe when she was young and later moved to spain and started her own olive farm business, or the american jewish family who lived down the road when we were kids who my mom was best friends with, or my brother's godfather the polish biker gang priest who rode a harley davidson to sermons, or my south african godmother who collected incredible wood carvings of dragons and giraffes and elephants and filled her house with beautiful jewel-colored paintings and ornamental bird cages and brightly patterned and bejewelled throw blankets and rugs and told me about growing up during and post-apartheid and helped me to understand important historical events and social issues we never covered in school and was one of the most unconditionally kind and helpful people i've ever met, or the german family my mom used to spend hours talking to on the phone, or the woman my mom was friends with whose son was trans and who supported my own struggles with gender and sexuality and encouraged me to express myself. i can't even get in touch with most of them because i never got their contact details, and i can hardly ask my parents now. it's just so thoroughly depressing how much life and culture my childhood was filled with and how my parents destroyed that before i was even old enough to fully appreciate it.

[dhr-advent]

Chaperone Chaos, Mistletoe Madness: A Yule Ball Tale by scullymurphy

Chaperone Chaos, Mistletoe Madness: A Yule Ball Tale (5000 words) by scullymurphy Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Oliver Wood Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, Peeves (Harry Potter), Oliver Wood Additional Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Professors, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Hermione Granger, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), Ballroom Dancing, Winter Solstice, Mistletoe, Banter, Banter as a Competitive Sport, Angry Attraction, Irritated to Lovers, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Rolled Sleeves Agenda, Community: dhr_advent, Lust Story Summary:

Professors Malfoy and Granger hate each other. They're also chaperoning the Yule Ball, where Erotogenic Mistletoe makes a timely appearance.

[dreamcubed]

more than a woman 2 | oliver wood x reader

song; more than a woman [bee gees] pairing; oliver wood x fem!ravenclaw!reader genre; established relationship, long distance(ish), fluff, light angst word count; 3,1k timeline; goblet of fire —> order of the phoenix warnings; swearing, relationship insecurities, one argument (gets resolved) summary; you were forced to endure one year of hogwarts without your beloved oliver, so how would that affect your relationship?

masterlist

parts: || one | two ||

“more than a woman to me.”

———————————————

Honestly, it was a good thing that Oliver wasn't at school for the Triwizard Tournament: Merlin knows you wouldn't have heard the end of him complaining about quidditch being cancelled. Still, you missed him, and it was certainly strange not hearing quidditch even mentioned once.

In the one and a half years that you had been together, the marriage joke had persisted, primarily thanks to the relentless Weasley twins. You figured your husband being long distance would be easier to deal with due to the mass amounts of work that NEWTs required. Obviously, you expected yourself to achieve good grades: you weren't a Ravenclaw for nothing. But good grades in the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests were difficult for even the most intelligent of people.

"Poor you," Chloe mocked at dinner during the first week of seventh year, "How will you ever survive without your other half?"

"Fuck off, Smith," you chided, scooping pasta on to your plate, "At least I have another half."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"You seeing him at Christmas?"

"I doubt it," you sighed, "I still want to see my family and his schedule is pretty packed."

"That's what you get for marrying a quidditch athlete."

You didn't bother correcting anyone anymore, and honestly, you didn't want to.

***

A weekly letter via owl was nothing compared to Oliver Wood in the flesh: you felt as if you had been starved all year of the one person you wanted to see the most. If only his quidditch team allowed enough free time for him to visit Hogsmeade so you could meet up, but it didn't, so you had been deprived.

You couldn't help but grow anxious as the Hogwarts Express grew closer to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, even thought Chloe said everything she could to reassure you.

What if he had fallen out of love in your time apart?

What if he wouldn't be excited to see you?

Sure, his letters to you over the last few weeks had contained nothing but enthusiasm over your coming reunion, but you couldn't help but wonder if he was waiting to break it to you in person.

The train came to a halt.

"Y/N, Y/N," Chloe said firmly, "There is no universe in which that man could fall out of love with you. Trust me, you mean more to him than quidditch."

"But, what if-"

"Look, there he is," she cut you off, pointing out the window at the man stood on the platform amongst the parents. One of his hands held a bouquet of fresh red roses, while the other hung at his side with the fingers playing nervously with each other.

Then, his eyes locked with yours, and all your worries melted away as your lips stretched into a massive grin. You ran out of the compartment and began shoving past people to get to the exit, almost barrelling into the conductor as you jumped on to the platform.

Oliver stood watching you with his grin matching yours, already opening his arms in preparation for what was about to happen. You jumped into them, almost knocking him over with the force in which you did it. You kissed him with the same force, like you had wanted to do for the last year so very desperately.

"I've missed you so much, lass," he said through heavy breaths after your kiss ended, "I've been going insane."

"I've missed you too," you replied, tightening your hold around him even more, "Have you gotten stronger?" You felt his bicep.

He gave you another toothy smile, "Aye. Didn't have a choice, the training regime is strict."

"Good to see you back with your husband," you heard Chloe say, and turned to see her pulling along not just her trunk, but yours as well.

"Ah, about that," Oliver said, dropping you from his hold and taking your trunk from Chloe, "It's about time we made it official, don't you think?"

Shock formed on your face.

"Don't look so surprised, lass, I've already waited two and a half years."

"Godric, this is so romantic," Chloe said sarcastically, making you roll your eyes at her. "Seriously, not even a ring."

"Ah ah ah," Oliver smirked, digging around in his pocket before pulling out a black velvet box.

"Get down on one knee in public and I will slaughter you," you quickly said, "Please don't bring attention to us."

He laughed, "Relax, relax, I won't. Here," he opened the box and presented it to you, "Will you officially become my wife, lass?"

You nodded, darting forward to wrap your arms around his chest again. "Of course I will, you stupid fucking quidditch man."

He smiled wider than you knew possible.

***

"This is my- our- flat," he said, presenting the space to you, "Obviously if you don't like it, we can move, but it's where I've been for a year."

"I like it," you said, "Although I want to make it less yours and more ours."

He nodded, "Do whatever you want with it, I'm not home much."

"Will I still not get to see you that often?" you slightly pouted.

Oliver pulled you in for a kiss, "I will be home as much as I can, lass, but professional quidditch is very demanding."

You had known that this was how life with Oliver would be, but it still made you sad.

"We need to tell our parents about the engagement," you changed the subject.

"They've been treating us like we're married for years," he chuckled, "So have our friends."

"Still, we should tell them, your mother hasn't stopped going on about me being her daughter-in-law as soon as possible in all the letters she's sent me."

"You talk to my mum?"

"Yes, Ollie, I talk to your mum. Believe it or not, I want to a foster a good relationship with my future mother-in-law."

"My priorities lie with my future nan-in-law."

"You thirsting over my nan?"

"Perhaps."

You scoffed, "Can't believe I've been replaced by an old hipster."

"Don't talk about Grace like that!"

You both broke out in laughter.

"Godric, I've missed you, lass," he sighed, "Never be away from me for that long again."

"Trust me, I don't plan on it."

***

It was difficult at first, living with Oliver and his jam-packed quidditch schedule, and there were many nights where you ate alone in front of the muggle television you had insisted on installing. But, as time faded away, you got used to it - it wasn't like Oliver was neglecting you, after all. On his days off, mornings off, nights off, etc., he would spend every waking second doting over you. Plus, on his full working days, when he got back so late you were already in bed, you couldn't help but relish in how he snuggled up to you immediately and muttered, "I love you so much," even though he was under the impression you were asleep.

The wedding planning took up a lot of your shared free time, despite the fact you were only planning on a small ceremony in his parents' garden. There were still the caterers, the dress, the suit, the cake, the rings, and so much more to sort out. It was stressful, yet you enjoyed it, as it meant furthering your relationship with Oliver.

You couldn't live without him.

***

You stared at the cold plates of food on the table, the steam that had been billowing off them having long disappeared along with your excitement. A heat retaining spell would have been easy, but for some reason that felt like giving in - to what, you didn't know. Instead, you sat in the corner of the room, on the floor, fiddling with your engagement ring. You wish you could say that you weren't crying.

It's just that - Oliver had promised that he would be home for dinner by six, he had sworn. The clock in the kitchen was ticking past eight and there was still not even a word from him.

Part of you was worried: what it something had happened to him?

Part of you was angry: he couldn't even let you know that he was running late?

Part of you was fed up: you should have expected this outcome.

The door opened, but you didn't look towards the man entering.

"Hey, love, I'm really sorry I'm late."

You didn't reply.

"Love?" he looked around, as he had spoken assuming you were in the main room - which you were, but hidden from his view. Once he walked past the table to head to the bedroom, you appeared in his peripheral, and he then quickly moved towards you.

You refused to look at him.

"Lass, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Why?"

He hummed in confusion.

"Why were you late?"

"Coach changed his mind about the evening off 'cause we have a last-minute practice match this weekend."

"He shouldn't be allowed to do that."

"I know, but-"

"Did all your teammates just accept it? Let it happen?"

"Well, no, I suppose Rodnickel did leave-"

"Why didn't you then?"

Oliver sighed, "Rodnickel had to get home to his two small kids who would've been unsupervised otherwise."

"You had to get home to me." You were aware you were being a bit unreasonable, but you were exhausted.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, "Believe me, I wish coach saw that as a good enough excuse."

You sighed, admitting defeat.

"So, what did my gorgeous fiancée make for dinner?"

"It's cold now," you mumbled.

"Nothing a little magic can't fix," he winked at you, pulling out his wand to cast a reheating spell. Once steam was billowing off the delicacies once more, Oliver breathed in deeply through his nose and exclaimed, "Smells delicious, my love."

He pulled out your chair for you.

Fuck, you couldn't stay mad at him long.

***

In your opinion, the cosy cottage that Oliver had grown up in had been the obvious choice for the wedding location: it provided a beautiful view of the Scottish countryside. Therefore, you found yourself getting ready in the guest bedroom of the house, with your grandmother delicately fixing your hair. Not too long ago, Chloe had left the room after finishing the final touches of your makeup to get dressed herself, and ever since you had been sat in silence with your grandmother.

"Getting cold feet?" she asked, breaking the ten-minute silence.

You shook your head. Not in the slightest.

"I wish I'd been that sure on my wedding day."

You met her eyes through the mirror opposite you.

"But, no, you have no reason to be nervous. Oliver is a fine young man, and he loves you a whole lot."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "It's weird," you finally spoke, "People make out getting married as being such a big deal, but this feels like the most natural thing in the world."

"That's because too many obsess over the rosy idea of getting married and starting a family, without thinking too much about who they're doing that with."

"You think they just settle with the first person who's up for it with them?"

"Yes and no. I do think most spend some time on choice, but at the end of the day, a lot of people jump at the opportunity of marriage when they reach a certain age."

You hummed, "Do you think we're rushing?"

Grace inhaled deeply, leaving a moment of consideration before saying, "No, I don't. You two still wanted each other after living long distance for a year, I think you both know what you're ready for."

Relieved to hear that, you fully grinned, "Thanks, nan," you checked the clock, "The ceremony starts soon, you need to finish getting ready."

"Yes, yes," she dismissed you with a wave of her hand, "I'll see you out there - you look absolutely gorgeous, my love."

You beamed.

***

Rowena, how did Oliver get to be so handsome? You were physically incapable of getting the smile off your face as you raked your eyes over his features: reaching the altar just wouldn't come quick enough.

But eventually you got there.

You passed the bouquet off to Chloe - your maid of honour - before assuming the position opposite Oliver. Briefly, you glanced at the audience of family and friends, and felt nerves ripple within you. They disappeared when your eyes met with your fiancé's, however, and somehow your grin grew even wider.

He looked gorgeous dressed up in the afternoon sun, and he was thinking the exact same about you. It was all you could think about as the wedding officiant began the introductions of the ceremony; you were a nervous wreck thinking about the vows you had so carefully crafted and rehearsed.

Oliver's were to be first.

"As I'm sure you know, quidditch is one of the biggest prides and joys of my life - I don't know who or what I'd be without it. What you may not know is that I'm most grateful to quidditch not for the masses of entertainment it provides me, but for the fact it's how I started talking to you, lass. From the day you insisted on connecting me with one of my role models, I've been undeniably attached to you. I never told you back then, but I think I fell in love with you the moment you first spoke to me - I mean who can blame me? Look at you."

Your heart was racing and you knew you must have looked flustered.

"It wasn't just your appearance, though. Right from the beginning, you've always spoken with such passion, even back when you were shy around me. I know all too well about passion, of course, and I knew it meant that there would never be dull moment around you. And, look, we're three years down the line now, and that prediction is yet to be proved wrong - you're still much more than a woman to me. I can't wait to never prove it wrong during the rest of our lives together. I love you so much, lass, I'm so happy you're now my wife."

The audience applauded his heartfelt words, and as you prepared yourself to say yours, you felt him warmly squeeze your shaking hands.

"Rowena, I- I don't know how to beat that," you began, steadying your voice as you spoke, "You know I had a crush on you long before we even had our first conversation, but I don't think you know how quickly it became love after we did start talking. Merlin knows I wasn't the only one who fancied you, I was far from special in that sense, but I felt special when we played quidditch one-on-one together for the first time. I'd never played it before then, which is surprising to a lot of people, I know, considering who my grandmother is. Truth is, I was always terrified of the sport, yet when it was you asking me I had very little hesitation about throwing my nerves away."

Oliver's face had flushed a light pink.

"And only you can do that to me - make me fearless, that is. Back then it was always more in a 'I can't pass up this opportunity with my crush' kind of way, but nowadays it's more in a 'you give me strength' kind of way, as cheesy as it sounds and as much as I feel weird for saying it. I guess that's what vows are about, though. I love you more than anything, Oliver, I always have and I always will."

As your words finished, the audience began clapping once more.

"So then, do you, Oliver Wood, take Y/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, and promise to care for her, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

He didn't hesitate. "I do."

"And do you, Y/N L/N, take Oliver Wood to be your lawfully wedded husband, and promise to care for him, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do." The words didn't feel real: nothing in that moment did. You were struggling to grasp on to reality as you pushed the rings on to each other's fingers.

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Oliver's lips were on yours in milliseconds, the sweet feeling like honey that you were so familiar with encompassing you. His arms tightened around you as the audience stood up and began cheering, filling you with an unmistakable sense of embarrassment.

But, you know what?

It didn't matter, because you were now married to Oliver - officially.

***

The clinking sound of cutlery against glass echoed amongst the tables, bringing everyone's attention to Chloe, who was sat near your side.

"If I may have everyone's attention, please, I'd like to make a toast to the bride and groom."

Eyes stared at her expectantly.

"I've known Y/N since the very first train ride we took to Hogwarts," she began, "Meaning I've had to hear her going on about Oliver a lot longer than the rest of you."

The typical laughs came in response.

"And Godric knows did she use me to get near him all the time - I can't exactly complain though, as she obviously knew what she was doing. Now, I don't know how many of you are familiar with this, but ever since before they were dating, there's been a running joke that they were already married, so, really, today changes nothing."

Again, laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding - it truly is wonderful to get to celebrate my best friend and ex-quidditch captain's happiness, even if it means being forced to watch them kiss. I love you both, and I wish you a great marriage."

The tables boomed with applause as you smiled your thanks at Chloe, truly feeling as if you couldn't get any happier than that moment. You felt Oliver's hand gripping yours from under the table, and so you turned to look at him to see that his gaze was already on you.

"Hi," you said softly.

"Hi," he replied, grinning whilst his eyes flickered to your lips.

"Uh uh, keep it in your pants til tonight, mister."

He sighed dramatically, "You're lucky I love you."

You chuckled, "I think you'll find that you're lucky I love you."

———————————————

parts: || one | two ||

masterlist

written; 28/09/2022 —> 29/10/2022 published; 29/10/2022 edited; —/—/——

taglist; @workinatdapyramid  @iluvweasleys