#probably harry potter too

[ebysse]

the headmasters impart wisdom

[valoale]

I'm quite convinced Draco uses half of his time staring at Harry like this and wondering how he can be so dumb (he loves it and knows they'll smash later so he won't complain)

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle with reader doing a striptease?

ok this one is fun 🤭 18+?

perhaps it’s late at night, perhaps you’ve been drinking with the boys and pansy, everyone equally as sloshed as the other. the lot of you start playing truth or dare, and inevitably you get hit with a dare to do a striptease.

now, you were given the option to keep your top or bottoms on, should you feel more comfortable that way, but with the liquor coursing through your system and your newfound motivation, you couldn’t really give two fucks.

you and mattheo had been in this tension filled back and forth for quite some time, everyone knows the two of you have been messing around, though the stubborn arse doesn’t seem to wanna’ put aside his goddamn pride and admit that he wants you, exclusively.

you knew this was your perfect chance.

accepting the dare you stand up, somehow managing to swallow your laughter as you lock eyes with mattheo, his brooding browns glued to you with a clear challenge as he’s thinking to himself there’s no goddamn way she’s going to actually do this. strip in front of all your friends? no way.

oh, mattheo. you foolish fuck.

you know damn well that mattheo is the possessive type, but strangely enough he isn’t protesting this. he’s just simply watching you. you know this is just as much a dare from him as it is from the group. a dare to test him. a dare to play with fire. to fuck around and find out.

unfortunately for you, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare.

you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, holding his stare and start by reaching behind your head to slowly let your hair out of your ponytail, allowing its length to sway as it falls and cascades around your face. you notice mattheo’s eye twitch, almost imperceptibly, before he begins adjusting his seated stance slightly, manspreading his legs just a little bit wider.

you choke back a giggle. though you know he noticed.

for a brief second you let your eyes traverse the room, glimpsing enzo and theo and blaise, all hawk eyes and parted lips, not wanting to miss a goddamn thing. you don’t feel too much about this as you know they’ve all seen you dozens of times in a bikini while swimming or tanning--underwear and bra really wasn’t much different. was it?

regathering your focus you shake off the thoughts of potential implications as your hands move to the base of your jumper, fingertips tracing the edge before slowly peeling it up your torso, the draft of the cool room igniting goosebumps on your skin. you pull it up further, spinning around to show them your backside as you tug it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor at your feet.

pansy whistles, giggling and urging you on as you sway your hips slightly to the faint hum of music playing in the background, undeniably lost in the fun of it all as the other boys cheer you on, too, clapping and howling in an absurd way to pump you up. at this point, you’re in damn near hysteria from laughing so hard.

collecting yourself, you tease the band of your leggings while bending at the hips, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of mattheo’s expressions as you begin to slowly peel them down your thighs, your ass in clear view.

mattheo looks like a fucking trainwreck, his hair tousled like his hand had plowed through it, his knuckles pale from gripping his cup so hard you were almost certain it was about to shatter within his palm. his jaw was clenched, so tight it almost looked painful, his eyes the hypnotizing depth of a black hole. you couldn’t tell if he was enjoying this, or utterly fucking hating it.

and as though he could read your mind, it was but a mere few seconds later before he gave you the answer.

you got your leggings about half way down your thighs when he stood up abruptly, interrupting the show and standing behind you to block your ass from the view of the other guys. when they all started grumbling and asking him wtf he was doing, he’d simply tell them to shut up and pick their jaws off the floor before they catch flies.

he’d yank your leggings back up, his lips pressed to your ear as he’d growl. “you win, you little fucking brat.”

you’d shrug, pretending you have no damn idea what he’s on about, and he’d reply with a calm, “yeah whatever you say princess, now let’s go back to my dorm so you can do this again for me in private.”

[lilithofpenandbook]

Imo the funniest thing about book Snape specifically is that Harry describes him as someone who's supposed to be incredibly ugly and scary ect

But in actuality he probably looks like the most normal human ever.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic december 4 - glimpse - 1044 words - cw: mentions of sex and weed

another feat. of jegulus granddads because they set up camp in my brain<3 emjoy

James talks in his sleep.

Regulus feels very, very bad.

They’re currently crowded in front of the living room door with their grandkids because—

Because they’re a bunch of useless, horrible adults that have gotten way too tipsy on mulled wine last evening over charades. Regulus was riding high on his win over Harry in Monopoly and so he might have had one or two or three sips too many. Or cups.

And so when they’d all bid their Goodnights and gotten ready for bed, pleasantly tipsy and airy-minded—distracted what with James nosing at the dark curls behind Regulus’ ear as he was brushing his teeth and then the press of him, a hard line against the seam between Regulus thigh and bum, when he’d bent Regulus over to spit out the toothpaste into the sink—well, there’s no pleasant way to say that they forgot to put the bloody presents under the tree.

And Regulus often doesn’t wake up anymore after all the years of sharing a bed with his husband but he remembers having woken up to James babbling about ‘The gifts, honey- wait, the gifts’ and Regulus in his barely state of consciousness had simply told him to shut it, pulled James head into the crook of his neck and forced him to fall asleep again, goddamnit.

The looks on their three, round, big eyed, little faces had just about nearly broken Regulus’ heart and that was before he’d seen Harry blanch and turn white as a sheet.

Luckily Regulus has married someone who’s good at improvising and so James had casually draped against the doorframe and told them that, “Ah, don’t worry, loves– It’s a leap year! Santa always starts a little later to deliver the presents during those years!”

Which leaves them hiding out in the hallway right now while Harry quietly brings in the presents through the kitchen. 

“Just a glimpse, Pops!” Louis whispers loudly, leaning his little body with all of his 5 year old body strength against where James has a single broad palm over his small chest.

“Nah-uh, Louibear,” James whispers back from where he’s squatting behind him. 

Regulus knows his knees will pop something horrible when he stands up but the sight of his husband’s thick thighs filling out the pleated pyjama bottoms is making Regulus selfishly keep his smart mouth shut.

“But Grandpo-ops!” Louis whines.

Chelsea shushes him immediately and rather aggressively. She’s between Regulus’ knees, bouncing up on the balls of her feet every now and then, her pigtails tickling Regulus’ nose.

Teagan is draped over James’ wide back and continuously throwing Regulus conspiratorial looks and mischievous little smiles. She’s 8 now, the Santa bubble has already been burst for her.

Regulus winks back at her every time.

“We have to wait until Santa is done putting all his presents under the tree, bug.” James drives placating fingers through their grandson’s wild hair before he goes on in a gentle murmur, “If we go and disturb him now he’ll bolt out through the chimney, up on his reindeer sled and whisk away with half of the presents that were meant for our family, you see.”

Louis gasps horrified.

James bites down on the smile trying to break to the surface. It’s unfair how handsome he looks in the dim light with his hair sleep mussed and his trimmed beard sprinkled white like the snowflakes making their way onto the ground outside.

Regulus forces his eyes away when Chelsea makes a little pained, squirming noise. Like she’s barely suppressing ripping herself from Regulus’ loose embrace and dashing through the door back into the living room.

There’s a clatter of wood and then a badly imitated Hohoho from what Regulus recognises to be Harry.

Louis and Chelsea look at each other with wide eyes and then back at James and Regulus respectively, vibrating with anticipation yet waiting politely for permission.

His husband throws Regulus a warm grin, a hint of teeth and a glint in his chocolate brown eyes that makes his heart stumble a little in his chest.

Regulus rolls his eyes and gives him a single nod. He kisses the side of Chelsea’s head and tells her to go on.

She barrels through the door with a squeal followed closely by a skittering Louis where he’s hasting over the smooth linoleum after his sister in his too big, woollen socks. Teagan throws Regulus another excited grin and then rushes after her younger siblings as well.

When Regulus pulls out of his seat there’s only a faint sting in his lower back while as James follows the motion his husband instantly buckles under his renewed weight, joints predictably cracking several loud pops. 

Regulus snaps out his arm for James to steady himself as this one grunts and pants under the pain and slowly lifts himself into an upright position.

Regulus snorts. “Getting old, Potter? Shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic with bending me over that bloody sofa ledge last night, huh…”

James growls playfully as he yanks Regulus closer by his arm though he catches his husband wince at the sudden motion of that half step.

He squeezes Regulus hip bone, right over the teeth mark he put there a few hours ago and then it’s Regulus’ turn to suck the air in through his teeth.

“Worth it,” James rasps low into his ear before kissing a fluttering path up Regulus’ jaw until he finally reaches his mouth, tilting his chin back with two fingers.

Regulus sighs happily into James’ mouth, shivers at the familiar sensation of beard rasping against his own stubbly skin.

They’re ripped out of the moment by Chelsea’s voice droning around the corner, “Gramps, look! Santa brought you dried cat grass for Mochi!”

“Cat grass?” comes Harry’s confused voice from the living room.

Regulus scrunches his nose at James, sharing the cluelessness. James shrugs.

Crinkling sounds, then Teagan’s voice, “It smells weird.”

“Fu– That is not cat grass, Chelsea!” Harry responds panicky, “Honey, please put that down right now. I’m not joking, sweetheart. No, gimme– unhg.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows at James but his husband simply tugs his lips in and hurries into the living room, presumably to help his son purloin the weed from his six year old little grandchild.

[zvaigzdelasas]

*liberal voice* are you saying that "the working group to consider creating a working group which would consider writing a formal report considering the efficacies of X, Y & Z ways of addressing the problem" isn't actually a way of addressing the problem?

*dramatic self-important huff*

well at least one of us is doing something about it

[ravenelyx]

Soft tummy Sebastian is the best Sebastian

[cursedwithwords]

In a perfect world Teddy’s godparents would be Charlie/Chiara or Bill/Fleur, but I don't think fandom's ready for that conversation yet tbh.

[theoneofshame]

They still hated each other. 

Voldemort was still a psychopath. Voldemort still killed his parents. Still killed Cedric. Still tortured him in the graveyard. Still made Harry watch while he snuffed out entire families in raids. Still played with Harry’s mind just to see Harry’s reactions when it suited him. 

Harry was still the one who destroyed Voldemort. Who cut into all of his plans. Who tore through Voldemort's careful mindscape and ripped open memories no one was ever supposed to see; memories of dying and reincarnating over and over: a mayfly, a snake, a beast, a man. Always burning up. Time and time again. All Harry's fault. 

And Harry. Harry never wanted to hurt someone so much in his life. He wanted to crack open Voldemort's ribcage and find that constructed heart, bloated with Harry's blood, then sew Voldemort back together right before he bled out. And after, have Voldemort hold him with a promise that everything would be alright. 

Because Harry didn't want to kill Voldemort again, not really… not that he ever did. Just make him bruise. Leave Voldemort shaking.

It was so confusing now.

Affections shouldn't be tied to violence like this. 

He didn’t know what to do anymore.

[slyterinthings]

To a random person who offended them:

Slytherin: I was gonna slap you but my hands are too small and probably wouldn't hurt too much.

Person:

Slytherin : So now I'm gonna have to curse you.

Person: listen here you little-

Slytherin: CRUCIO-

[padfootastic]

hello! i am back with yet another…thing. thank u for the tag @lovelymasks <3 (i realised, upon second reading, that this was supposed to be a sunday snippet but i’m an idiot n therefore this is now a saturday snippet mwuah)

I think you should go to a Healer, Sirius. 

Why, he’d asked, flippant. What was there to do with a Healer when you were a convict on the run? Besides, Sirius was wrong in a way that couldn’t be made right. He was past the point of return. Healers would’ve barely known what to do with him before Azkaban, let alone in the condition he was in now. 

Because you look like a stiff wind will blow you over, Harry’d answered, though the answering flippancy didn’t quite land the way he intended because what Sirius heard was ‘Because I don't want to lose anyone else.’ 

What Harry didn't say, and Sirius didn’t want to hear, was ‘Because I can’t lose another parent.’

He quietly acquiesced after that. The trembling, hopeful smile growing on his godson’s face was enough to wipe away all apprehensions after that. 

Until now, when Harry was at Hogwarts, and he was second guessing this whole business. 

Did he really need a Healer, like, really?

One look at the mirror in front of him gave him a solid, sturdy answer. 

He was dressed in his old rags and it was a testament to the conditions of Azkaban that clothes from when he was younger, before hitting his final growth spurts, were barely just fitting him now. Sirius’ back was almost constantly bent these days--all days spent curled up in a ball seemed to have reshaped his skeletal structure, who knew--each vertebrae gaining a distinct notch in the column of his skin. His stomach was a fascinating blend of too small and too bloated. He couldn’t keep anything down, but he wasn’t able to eat much either. A mystery for the ages. 

Less said about his face, the better. Sirius wasn’t vain, never had any reason to be, but there was a certain…pride he’d maintained, a level of outward appearance that was considered bare minimum for a Black, a conditioning he’d never managed to shake off. 

It was that conditioning itching at him now, turning him away from any reflective surface before he could see his distorted features, grotesque and inhuman, staring back at him. 

And ultimately, it was that, he realised with a shameful sort of guilt, that pushed him to see a Healer. Not his godson’s pleading look, not concern for his wellbeing--but leftovers from an upbringing that he hated, his mother’s words he couldn’t stop hearing, his father’s sharp commands. 

Ultimately, it was his blood that made him give in, as it always did. 

further tagging @jmagnabo92 @soopsiedaisies @groundzero-v 💜

[cluelesspigeons]

This is written for the prompt “bees” from @drarrymicrofic

Word count: 164

Drarry microfic: the vet

A sudden, loud howling filled the warm summer air. Harry ran to the backyard, panic racing through his veins, until he found their dog, Padfoot, sitting on the grass with one front paw lifted in the air. If dogs could cry, Harry was certain Padfoot would be crying right now.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Draco asked as he came running out the house as well. “What happened?”

Harry walked toward Padfoot and took the paw in his hand. It was already starting to swell. “I think,” he said, amusement clearly audible in his voice, “our little Padfoot here, played a little too close to the neigbour’s beehive.”

Padfoot whined again, as Harry inspected the paw further.

Draco sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, now what?”

“Now,” Harry said, giving Padfoot a stern look, “we go to the vet.”

At the sound of the word, Padfoot’s head snapped toward Harry, his eyes pleading. This was going to be a fun afternoon.

Prompt from May 23rd

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[yannfredericks]

it’s been brought to my attention that maybe it’s not common knowledge that in many of the hpcc casts yolly (yann fredericks + polly chapman) are considered canon so I’m here to fix that

they’re everything to me and if I ever stop posting about them I’ve died

[rewritingcanon]

why does anyone hate the weasleys they’re literally just ron “pineapple upside down yah in the toilet i make a brown yah—“ and ginny “at my wedding i wont wear a gown yah i would rather wear lady gaga MEAT DRESS 👹” weasley the only crime they share is being the realest

[lilithofpenandbook]

au where when a Death Eater is killed, they can actually not die, on one condition:

Their heart must be pure.

This doesn't mean they never ever did anything wrong. That's impossible if you're human. No, this means that whatever they've done, it's for a selfless reason. That whatever bad they've done for selfish reasons, they've fully regretted, repented, and set out for redemption. That in their heart of hearts, they are no true Death Eater, because true Death Eater have no compassion, or selfless love. Selfless Love is a pure thing, and if that exists in the heart, then they may survive being killed.

And there's another thing: they return to the physical state they were in before taking the Dark Mark. It's all effectively "wiped clean", as it were. Of course, the actions remain, as do the mental scars, but the physical body is now back to when it was still pure of this evil as a little nod to the purity of their heart.

During the second war, then, there are a few Death Eaters who do not die. But only the fewest:

The most famous example? Severus Snape, who is all but a mere child, barely touching adulthood. Who's small and underweight, whose body is still riddled with scars from the Good Guys. Who's so young it's frightening to think he became a death eater at this age because there's something so broken and fragile about him. How did he manage to survive through that?

And then... And then there's Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black.

Who... Who's a literal child.

[short666bread]

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