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drwcn · 3 years

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《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 9 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj [Master List], you should also have read [6] [6.2]

Lan Qiren coming to visit Hanguang-fu effectively put an end to Wei Wuxian's time as Lan Wangji's servant. He wanted to send Wei Wuxian back to Jiang-fu, but luckily, Jiang Yanli interfered.

Jiang Yanli has been slowly recovering since her drug-induced miscarriage, and while Wei Wuxian had slowed her progress with sedatives, he's been careful to keep an eye on her intake to make sure Jin Ziyan hasn't been messing with her again. As well, with Wei Wuxian occupying Lan Wangji's time and keeping the Jiang family in his good graces, Jiang Yanli had the time she needed to recover fully without needing to push herself to entertain Lan Wangji for favour.

“妾身见过太师，给太师请安。” “阿离啊，听说你小产后一直身体不好，这下着雨，你怎么来了。起身吧, 孩子。” “承蒙太师与陛下惦记，殿下垂怜，阿离的身子已经大好了。阿羡本是妾身院里的，是妾身的陪嫁，一直都安分守己，对王府对殿下忠心不二。是妾身无用，身子一直不见好才让阿羡到王爷身边侍奉。刚见阿羡被太师训斥，相比是阿离平日里管教无方，无心顶撞了太师。有什么过错，都是妾身的错，还请太师责罚。” ~translate~ Jiang Yanli dipped into a proper curtsey, kneeling before Lan Qiren, "This humble concubine greets Taishi. I pray that you've been well." "A-Li, I've heard that you've not been well since your miscarriage. It's raining today, what troubled you to come? Rise, child." Lan Qiren's stance softened upon seeing Jiang Yanli. His late sister-in-law had no daughters, and so often summoned the daughters of nobles into court to dote on and mentor as her own. Jiang Yanli, gentle and proper, has long been known to be a favorite of the late empress. She may not be the greatest beauty in her generation, but was second to none when it came to etiquette and grace. "Thanks be to His Majesty and taishi for remembering, and thanks to dianxia's for his care, my health is much improved now. A-Xian was once a member of my court, my peijia. I've always known him to be obedient and conscious of his place, and loyal to wangye and this princely manor. It is only on account of my poor health that he's been summoned to serve at wangye's side. Earlier, I heard Taishi chastising him; surely it must be A-Li's fault for failing to teaching him propriety and thus causing his unintended offence. The fault is with A-Li, and so I humbly submit myself to your discipline, taishi." Lan Qiren sighed. He did not wish to stir up trouble over a servant. If Jiang Yanli was willing to stand up for this Wei Wuxian, then he must have his uses. At the very least, he'll be a confidant for Jiang Yanli against Jin Ziyan. Lan Qiren so hoped that one day Wangji would choose the Jiang girl as his legal spouse and secure his marriage once and for all. If sparing one lowly servant was the price then so be it. "Very well, A-Li. Since the servant is yours, then his training and discipline shall be your responsible. He is unsuited to serve at the prince's side. It is good that you have recovered; Wangji should not be without a caring partner."

And so, Wei Wuxian returned to Jiang Yanli's side as a servant. Lan Wangji had to watch him go and could not interfere. The next several days was depressing for both of them on multiple fronts.

Xue Yang was very unimpressed:

"So you're tell me that you got to spend quality time with Lan Wangji for months and then... didn't get anywhere?" "I was getting there okay? How was I supposed to know his stupid uncle was gonna barge in like some nosey busybody and ruin everything!? I haven't seen Lan Zhan in days..." I miss him. How horrifyingly embarrassing. He probably forgot me already. "Don't tell me you actually miss him??? That you - barf - fell for him? Whatever happened to standards??!" "You watch your mouth, Xue Chengmei! I'm still your shixiong! And I have standards; Lan Zhan is...very good." Xue Yang: ( ˘︹˘ ) whatever.

Lan Wangji, the sulky boy that he is, brooded for days until Lan Xichen finally sought him out for some good ol' brotherly heart to heart.

"I hear Uncle took away your shiny new toy." "Wei Ying is not a toy." "Wei Ying is it?" Lan Xichen wiggled his eyebrows. "Ah, didi, you have to think a little more creatively. So your Wei Ying has gone back to his mistress, but is his mistress not your concubine? Jiang-furen is still unpregnant, I might add. Visit her. Then surely you'll get to see him." Lan Wangji grimaced. The thought has occurred to him, but the idea of bedding anyone not Wei Ying is intolerable. "Yes, Yanli is lovely, but I'd rather not...you know..." His brother was too polite to roll his eyes. "You've done it before, Wangji." "I would not have had to, if xiongzhang simply did his duty." Lan Wangji bit back icily, and instantly regretted it. Lan Xichen's eyes widened, his cheerful-teasing expression stuttering and crumbling in seconds. "Yes...yes that's true." "My sincerest apologies, huangxiong - no - bixia." Lan Wangji rose to his feet and then bowed down deeply. "I forgot my place. I accept any punishment." Lan Xichen sighed and extended a forgiving hand to pardon him. "Not necessary, Wangji. You're right. I haven't done my duty for Gusu." He pulled the younger man to sit beside him again. "You are doing this in my stead, stepping up where I have let the country down. I should not make light of your sacrifice. The matter of a harem is inevitably complicated, which is why I never cared for one. Neither did Father. His harem had always been sparse, and his first empress was not one of his choosing. When she died in childbirth and our unborn sibling along with her, he elevated our mother's rank to Empress and visited no one else henceforth." "Mother was never popular with the ministers for that reason." "Yes. They suspected that she had something to do with...well, in any case I imagine they were quite relieved when she passed." Lan Xichen shook his head. "The harem is not a happy place, Wangji. You were born after Mother was already Empress, you would not have remembered a time when she was consort. But I do. Like you, your concubines did not get to choose their fate. The fault, ultimately, lies with me." "Huangxiong -" "It's true, Wangji. The fault is mine." Lan Xichen patted him on the arm placatingly. "You cannot love them, and clever as they are, I don't think your concubines would expect you to. However, you can ensure their happiness in other ways. Jiang-furen seems the kind to very much want a child of her own. It will make the rest of her life in your harem more bearable."

After some deliberation, Lan Wangji went back to his routine of visiting different concubines regularly, but never more than just sharing a bed-space. With the exception of Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji could see it in her eyes; she knew who he really wanted, but those words never needed to be said aloud. Jiang Yanli was kind to him, and he was kind to her in return. All things considered, it wasn't awful being with someone who wasn't your preferred, but who knew you for yourself and shared your struggles.

"Dianxia, you must've heard, that before I married into your wangfu, I was betrothed to Jin Zixuan." She mentioned one evening over a game of weiqi. Of all his concubines (which he has 4) and friends (which he has few), Jiang Yanli's skill on the weiqi board was unparalleled. Lan Wangji half wondered how the Marquis and Marchioness of Yunmeng could have buried this talented daughter of theirs under the shadow of their son for so many years. "Yes I am aware." "I loved him." "...." For a minute Lan Wangji did not know how to reply. He stared at the chessboard. Jiang Yanli's black pieces had surrounded his white ones and forced them into a corner. "Why are you telling me this?" "Your court, my clan: we are their creatures." Jiang Yanli 's smile was knowing. "I am not A-Xian; I can see what he cannot." "Which is?" "You've fallen for each other. Completely. He denies it, heaven knows why." Jiang Yanli took a delicate sip of tea. Fleetingly, Lan Wangji imagined that if he could not have Wei Ying, if he were forced to take a legal wife to make empress, that she would make a magnificent one. "Father loved Mother. Loved her as a wife even when she was only a consort -" "And his love spurred the hate of the royal court." "They blamed her for his loving a woman more than his country, as though she should have persuaded him to love her less. I do not want the same to happen to Wei Ying." "Nor I." "Huangshu says I would need a legal spouse one day, someone virtuous and from a strong pureblood family." "Is that what dianxia wants?" "I want it to be Wei Ying, though I know it to be impossible. Barring that, I'd want to keep him safe in the harem, the size of which will only grow after I succeed the throne." "For that, dianxia will need a spouse who will reign over the harem as you rule over the country." Lan Wangji contemplated his choices and the options available to him. After some time, he placed the white piece he fiddled between his fingers back into the bamboo bowl, conceding that he'd lost this round. Jiang Yanli waited patiently for him to come to terms with the offer she already knew he would make. He wondered how long ago she had foreseen this moment, whilst simultaneously realizing that if his uncle had any idea just how intelligent she truly was, he would not be so quick to suggest her as a candidate for princess consort. A weak emperor and a strong empress never boded well for the stability of the realm. This was dangerous waters Lan Wangji was wading into, but he knew beyond doubt that the only way to survive was to keep straight ahead. He had no other path to take, none which maximally balanced what he wanted with what he needed. Jiang Yanli was his only solution, his only ally. "Huangxiong suggested that we have a child together." He finally said, staring her squarely in the eyes. "You and I can agree that the son of Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang would certainly be a strong contender amongst his brothers." "She could be a daughter." "Then I'd cherish her more. A child and a crown - would they make you happy, Yanli?" "If I said yes?" "Then they're yours." Jiang Yanli smiled.

Two months after Wei Wuxian was dismissed from Lan Wangji's service and the prince began visiting Jiang Yanli, good new was delivered to Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. The message was this: Hanguang-wang's Jiang-furen was with child yet again.

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #cql ficlet #corie fics #without envy #i said i'd do this for yall #and so i did

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

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I Won’t Say I’m In Love

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Read the summary here

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 2569

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

(i found the picture on google, there is a name on it but other than that i am not sure who owns it. I do not.)

The leaves, newly fallen from the on coming of Autumn, crunched under the feet of hurrying students. Hogwarts had begun it’s new school year, witches and wizards were hurrying from boats and carts to get into the castle and catch up with friends. Just outside of the dining Hall was a sea of students, chattering with friends, everyone staying in clumps of like colors.

Gryffindors stayed with their own, as did Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs were the ones to intermingle the most, having friends in almost every house. Then there was the house of Salazar Slytherin, a proud bunch, robes of green tightly knit together leaving no room for outsiders or stragglers, not that the other houses (excluding Hufflepuff) thought highly enough of the green and silver house to make friends.

Y/n L/n, a proud member of Slytherin stood proud with her friends and housemates. Her chin was held high, a playful smirk painted delicately on her features as she listened to Blaise Zabini give a recount of his summer holiday. Blaise had always been a nice boy, his mother was a beautiful woman who was familiar with the front page of many high end wizarding fashion magazines. Then there was Lily Webberforth, another pureblood from a family of wealth, she was in Y/n’s year and a cherished friend.

“Father said he’d be purchasing a new peacock for the manor, though he couldn’t decide between albino or not.” Draco informed.

Draco Malfoy had wormed his way into the group during second year, a good kid...when he wanted to be, but absolutely snotty otherwise.

“Y/n, how about you wear my jersey for the first game of the season?” Adrian Pucey asked, arm slinging around Y/n’s shoulders making her internally cringe.

She was never a fan of being touched and Adrian seemed to be all for it when it came to her. They were in the same year and he’d been trying to convince Y/n to make it official since third year. She preferred to play with him rather than commit to him. It was easier that way, being able to differentiate her feelings from an early age, she knew she didn't particularly like him, but they had a few good nights and now she can’t shake him. He had become rougher over the years, harsh and controlling with an affinity for blackmail.

“No my clothes are just fine, Pucey, thanks.” She shrugged off his arm as Lily snickered at the exchange, finding joy in giving Adrian a look that told him ‘better luck next time’.

Adrian, not the biggest fan of rejection then turned to Lily in hopes of getting a jealous rise out of Y/n.

“What about you, Lils? You’ll wear my jersey won’t you?”

Lily shook her head, “I’m on the team with you, clear why you're not in Ravenclaw isn't it?”

Y/n laughed at the comment and moved to stand next to Lily, away from Adrian. Luckily, he got the message, for now, and left to find Marcus Flint.

“Have you seen the twins yet?” Lily asked, leaning closer to Y/n to make sure she wasn't overheard.

The girl gave her a questioning look before asking, “Why would I go looking for them?”

“Their hair’s come in nice, looking a bit shabby last year, remember?”

“Yeah, they’ve finally cut it?”

Lily shook her head, her eyes glowing with excitement, “Even better, it’s grown out a bit longer. Real nice looking, George looks rather well I’d say.”

“I always figured you had a thing for him.” Y/n laughed.

“Oh please, you and I both know that you love how much attention Fred gives you.”

Y/n tried to respond, really she did, but she was both out of words and interrupted by Lily again.

“Look, here they come.” Her voice was quite as she nudged her head in the direction behind Y/n.

Y/n turned slowly, in no rush to give Fred Weasley the satisfaction of having him know they were talking about him. When she did finally meet his eyes she couldn’t help but agree with Lily, his hair had grown out quite handsomely and he seemed to have reached an impossible height, well over the six feet he towered at in the previous year.

“Ladies.” They greeted simultaneously, Fred eyeing Y/n as they neared.

She gave a silent nod to them as Lily vocally greeted them with a reserved, “Hey.”

“News is that the first match of the season has our houses against each other. Shame isn’t it, Poppet? You can’t cheer for me.” Fred asked, arms crossing in front of his chest and lips stretching to a smirk.

Anyone could tell Fred was proud of his large frame, as a beater he worked hard for his toned arms, and thick biceps but his height was a complete natural gift bestowed upon him by the gods and he wouldn’t waste their generosity.

Y/n snorted, “Oh yeah, makes me feel empty inside when I can’t cheer for you, Weasley.”

“I know, no need to tell me. I fill you right up don’t I?”

The comment made her sneer at him, but she was unable to say anything back as her house was called into the Great Hall for the beginning of the year feast. Fred watched her leave as George poked fun at his inability to charm his way into her heart with innuendos and sarcasm.

It annoyed Fred, it was common knowledge that you had been with a few guys, some people even going as far as giving Y/n an undeserved title for it. Unfortunately, common knowledge happened to be a common rumor made by people who disliked her. Fred didn’t know this however and her constant rejection made him wonder, what did all those other guys have that he didn't?

Y/n and Fred had a back and forth relationship, neither being afraid to throw jabs at the other with the underlying tone of flirtiness yet both of them knowing the line not to cross. Fred thought she was ethereal, the way she seemed to glow as she walked through the halls had him weak in the knees. Her voice was buttery and soft, a velvety quality that seemed to grasp onto each of his heartstrings. Fred was head over heels for her and he hated it so he used sarcasm and a condescending tone to combat his feelings. Over time this developed into a false belief that he really didn’t like her, she was cunning, sly, and so easy to hate when he couldn’t love her.

Lily and Y/n sat in potions class, potion already brewed and completed as they gossiped in hushed tones and watchful eyes.

“So, anything new with Weasley?”

Y/n didn’t need a first name to know who her friend was referring to and she groaned.

“No, and there never will be.”

A loud groan emitted from Lily’s lips, “When are you gonna stop lying to yourself? I can see right through you.”

“There is no chance, no way that I’d ever fall for him.”

“You’d never fall for him or you’d never let yourself?”

The following silence was just as good of an answer as any, and Lily gave her a smug looking knowing she had won the argument.

Class ended shortly after that exchange, Y/n and Lily now having a free period chose to hang out in the room with the goblet of fire, watching as people put their names in. It was only last night that Fred and George had voiced their complaints quite loudly at the age restriction and Y/n was excited to rub it in Fred’s face that she was of age. Of course she wasn’t going to put her name in the goblet, she had better things to worry about than some tournament.

Lily and Y/n entered the hall at seemingly the wrong time, seeing as Fred and George had run through the doors leaving the girls in their dust. The whoops and hollers from bystanders made Y/n roll her eyes much to Lily’s amusement.

“How can you not be annoyed by their arrogance?” Y/n asked incredulously.

Her friend shrugged, “They are amusing.”

Y/n ignored the comment as they neared the twins.

“It’s not going to work.” She sing-songed loud enough for them to hear as she walked by.

Fred and George heard the comment and made a b-line for her and Lily. Fred plopped down behind Y/n, his face turning to meet her eyes, George doing the same to Lily.

“You don’t think that, do you Lily?” George asked Lily with a feigned look of childlike innocence.

“Come on, Poppet, have a little faith in me.” Fred said, a sarcastic look of pleading falling over his features.

For extra effect Fred jutted out his bottom lip making Y/n laugh at his ridiculousness, and oh how he loved to have her attention to himself.

“It’s incredibly dimwitted.” Y/n answered.

Lily nodded, “See that there?” She pointed to a white line around the goblet as she continued, “it’s an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself -”

“Meaning something as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion isn’t going to get past it.” Y/n finished.

Fred tsked as he shook his head, “That’s why it’s so brilliant.”

“Because it’s so pathetically dimwitted.”

The twins stood up abruptly and Y/n’s eyes followed Fred’s figure. The way his jaw flexed as he drank the potion and his hair flopped when he jumped down from the bench with George made Y/n lose grasp on her emotions for just a moment.

He was good looking, she couldn’t deny it. Fred Weasley seemed to be built by the gods, his hair burned as that of Ares’, and his face chiseled to the likeness of Apollo. But Y/n had been there and done that with pretty boys, all of them were the same and wouldn’t give in to another one. She refused to let herself fall for him, afraid of the repercussions of really loving him.

The fire let out an angry growl that brought Y/n’s mind back to that room and what was happening, with good timing too as she then watched George and Fred get thrown a few feet in the air and land away from the age line. They sprouted long grey beards and got into a tussle on the floor.

The sight made Y/n giggle before she quickly regained her composure and acted as unbothered as possible making Lily roll her eyes. It would’ve been a fairly enjoyable time, regardless of what Y/n would’ve told Fred, but Adrian Pucey walking into the hall made her shrink in her chair as she grimaced.

“Go, don’t think he’s seen you yet.” Lily whispered, eyes trained on the other Slytherin.

Y/n nodded and hugged the walls as she made her way to the door, hopefully, unseen. She celebrated too early, and her face fell as she heard the unmistakable tone just as she made it through the doors.

“Running away from me?” Adrian called, his smirk evident in his words.

She stopped, turning to look at him as she spoke, “Don’t be so surprised. You ought to have realized by now your company isn’t wanted.”

“Come on Y/n, give us a chance. You know you want to.” He said coming closer to her.

“Really, Adrian, I don’t.”

Adrian reached out to pull her under his arm and forced her to walk with him, the act making her tense up but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer to her ear, his breath hitting her skin making her incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re mine, you know that don’t you? And no fucking ginger is going to get in my way.” He growled.

“You’re disgusting.” She spat, eyes burning with the anger of Hephaestus’ greatest fire.

Adrian laughed as he leaned closer to Y/n’s ear making her give an uncomfortable shiver, “Careful, darling, your feelings are showing.”

“Miss me, poppet?”

Fred Weasley’s voice was chipper and cheery as he greeted Y/n in their first class of the day. He had just woken up and it showed, his red hair looked as though it was hastily brushed through with his own fingers and his eyes still a bit puffy. He looked positively endearing as he took a seat at his table with George, just behind Lily and Y/n.

“Ridiculously.” Y/n mumbled, not looking up from her Herbology book.

“We’re only a few weeks in, what could you possibly be studying for?” Fred asked as he leaned over his desk to catch a glimpse at what you were looking at.

You glanced at him momentarily before looking back at your book, “Just giving myself an idea of what to expect.”

“Not a bad idea.” George said, considering doing it himself.

Fred gave him a funny look before turning his attention back to the girl in front of him, chin resting on his hand propped up by his elbow on the desk. She wasn’t paying attention to him, instead focusing on the book in front of her. She was slightly to the side allowing Fred the perfect view of her face without giving her the satisfaction of knowing he was staring at her.

Y/n’s hair fell in gentle waves down to kiss the top of her hips, she had fring that framed the length of her face and parted in the middle that was incredibly voluminous. Her eyes were focused with intense determination as she read, face relaxed as she was completely absorbed in what she was doing. Fred noticed early on that she rarely laughed, a genuine, eye crinkling, giggle but instead always had a look of unbothered casualness. He couldn’t understand this, not in the slightest, seeing as he was sure he had smile lines forming already.

He wanted to know more about the ethereal Slytherin, he craved it with everything in his being. Something about her drew him in, held him in place and refused to let him go.

Deep in thought, Fred failed to notice her eyes now looking at him with a curious glint and her hand coming out to poke him with her index finger.

“Alright, Weasley?” Her eyebrows were furrowed and Fred shrugged off the bubbly feeling he got in his gut.

He smirked, “Aw, do you care about my well being? Georgie hold me I may swoon.”

George laughed and shook his head at his brother, Lily joining in on the laughs as she watched Y/n’s face contort to one of distaste.

“Oi, Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” Lee Jordan, a close friend of Fred and George’s called from his table on the other side of the greenhouse.

Fred gave a short chuckle, his defenses coming up instantaneously as he tried to ignore the burning of his cheeks. And maybe if he hadn’t been so keen on putting down any and all rumors of him having feelings for Y/n he would’ve noticed the shy smile that graced Y/n’s lips as she turned her face away from the boys.

But alas, he didn't, and instead opened his mouth to shout over to Lee.

“My standards aren't that low, mate. I’d just as soon shag a goblin, Godric knows they’d be less bothersome.”

Taglist

@freddieweasleyswife @anywherebuthere

#Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #Harry Potter imagines

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theroomofreq · 3 years

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bemused friendship

Wishing the happiest birthday to the love of my life, @mppmaraudergirl !! I cannot express how grateful I am for your friendship and kindness.

here is a snippet of the fic I am writing for you and will hopefully finish soon. love you dearly xx

Lily slammed her bookbag down onto a desk, the sound reverberated loudly inside her head. She hoped the noise ricocheted purposefully into the chest of her desk mate. Lily Evans wanted the person next to her to know she was hell-bent on living up to a challenge.

What challenge, you ask?

A challenge presented to her by two incredibly frustrating Gryffindors, two Gryffindors who didn’t realize the precarious situation of going against Lily Evans and her intensely stubborn personality.

Did Lily know what class this was? No, and it was completely irrelevant to the task at hand. Did she remember anything from the time it took her to storm into the classroom? Very little, which shouldn’t be of much concern to anyone, thank you very much. Was she here with a very firm mindset on what was to be done? Absolutely.

Rather than setting anything out on the desk, Lily simply grabbed the end of her bag and shook out the contents. Her inkwell, quills, parchment, books, and chapstick clattered along the desk, ringing like the blood in her ears. Lily planted herself unceremoniously in her seat and pushed her bookbag off the edge of the table and onto the floor where it laid in a crumpled heap.

“Always wonderful to have such a happy desk mate.” James quipped, his voice dripped with sarcastic charm.

“Do not start with me, Potter.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, especially as you are already having such a wonderful morning.”

“I was until very recently, thank you.”

“Evans, might I remind you. You were the one to grace me with your cheery disposition this fine morning.”

Lily turned to face him and rolled her eyes as far back in her head as humanly possible. “I know. But I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

James furrowed his brows and looked around the room where half the class had yet to show up. He nodded and spoke again, “hmm, yes, slim pickings.”

The way he smiled sent her stomach rolling. Merlin. She really was running short on patience, wasn’t she? Lily dropped her head down on the table, her face pressing into the objects haphazardly strewn across the desk. As her inkwell crushed into her cheekbone Lily wondered how exactly she got herself into this disaster.

Oh. That’s right. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

approximately 10 minutes earlier.

“You know, I will hate myself later for saying this, but - really you’d get along great.”

Lily’s gaped like a pureblood Slytherin who’d just been told his cherished family pedigree was fabricated.

“Are we still talking about the same bloke here?”

“Tall specky git, with his hand permanently stuck in his hair? James Potter, my best mate? Yeah, I think we are.”

“Potter and I would not make good friends, Sirius.”

“Trust me, love. If you only gave the poor boy a chance.”

“A chance? A chance for what exactly?”

Sirius’ lips curled into a charming smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Lily rolled her eyes at the way Sirius leaned back against the wall, eyes bright with mischief after his little question. The busy halls of Hogwarts before the first morning class were a dull buzz behind her. At the moment all she could be bothered with was her classmates who called her over to chat. Unfortunately, their little discussion had turned into complete nonsense about Potter. And now it seemed her fellow Gryffindor was pleased as punch to kick back against the tall castle walls and press her buttons. Buttons that immediately bristled at any mention of James Potter. Lily let her eyes dance over to the second boy who folded and unfolded a rough piece of parchment in his hands.

“Translate please?”

Remus sighed like an older man who spent most of his days kicking teenagers off his lawn. He pushed the sleeves of his off-white collared shirt up onto his scarred forearms. His eyes connected with Lily’s and his lips twitched, but only barely.

“Why, Lily. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might be curious about our James.”

Sirius released a bark of laughter before he stepped forward and clapped Remus on the shoulder. “It seems that way, doesn’t it, Moony?”

“The only thing I am curious about is how his neck can support all that ego knocking around his head.”

“You’ll have to get up close and personal to see that, Lils.”

“Think that might be the point, Moony.”

Lily placed her hands on her hips in the way that one commonly does when dealing with 16-year-old boys who refuse to cooperate with any type of logic.

“The point being that Potter and I will not become friends.”

“Perhaps you are right this round,” Sirius said with an air of nonchalance.

“Lily is always right, Sirius.”

“Think of it, Moony. If they spent one day of classes together-”

“Lily would absolutely hex Prongs by the end of it.”

“We’ve all been there of course.”

“The two of you are headed into hexing territory as well.” Lily snapped.

Sirius and Remus smirked wickedly at each other. One smirk was bright and daring, the other was small, subtle, and calculated. Lily couldn’t be sure which one was most dangerous, but she had a feeling that the two combined were far worse than just one.

“Well, Padfoot.” Remus quipped, eyes trained on Lily. “Really, anyone could tough through one day of classes with James. But, who could last a whole week?”

“By my count? Only three.” Sirius said as he propped an elbow on Remus’s shoulder. “Not counting you, Evans.”

“I’m not falling for this. I know what you two are plotting. And stop winking at me, Sirius Black.” Lily said.

“Regardless of whether you know what we are doing, the offer stands.” Sirius retorted quickly.

“A week with Potter? Sounds like less of an offer and more of a death sentence.”

“Would you rather it be a bet? Perhaps a dare?”

“I’d rather you waste someone else’s time with your ‘marauding’ nonsense.” Lily wondered if the quotation marks she made in the air gave off enough sass to show her overall distaste for her situation.

Sirius stepped away from Remus and resumed his original position against the wall, his leg propped up behind him and his arms crossed over his body. His words bounced their way through her brain as his stance created a deeper sense of annoyance in her chest.

“Of course it’s nonsense. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are curious about our James. Or that you desperately want to prove us wrong.”

The glint in Sirius’s eyes paired with Remus’ raised eyebrows sent Lily over the edge. The edge referring to the completely mad way she stormed out of their presence and tearing off to class.

Death sentence, bet, dare, and challenge aside, Lily absolutely could not be friends with James Potter.

#jily #jily fic #6th year jily #my writing #mppmaraudergirl

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Fragile- George Weasley x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: I know another George x reader, fight me. This is based around the quote “She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb” -Rahul Singh Rathour.

Summary: George Weasley falls for a Slytherin girl who was an expert at keeping her negative emotions hidden. He was her little light at Hogwarts and kept her sane for the most part. Until one day when she’s pushed over the edge.

House: Slytherin

Possible Triggers / Warnings: mental breakdowns, child neglect, manipulation, shit parents, panic attacks.

☼-☪-☼

She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb

maybe you should have seen a therapist when you were little. Bottling up emotions was considered self destructive by most sane people, but it had become second nature. Growing up with parents who were always fighting, you just learned to keep things to yourself, so you weren’t a burden.

it was odd, despite all the shit you were put through, you were still kind. You were still yourself. You found comfort in fellow housemates like Draco Malfoy. You avoided him since he seemed like a snob, plus he was younger then you, but all that changed once you found him crying in a broom closet.

the school year had only just started and he explained to you that his parents had been bickering with each other the whole time while shopping for new books. You didn’t speak a word of your family to him because you felt like it would take attention from his problem. You didn’t want to be selfish

you and Draco soon became friends after that, but even as you two grew closer you never told him about your problems. You continued to bottle things up, which didn’t make much sense, since you had someone to confide to, maybe you had gotten so used to hiding your inner demons.

you had heard of the Weasleys, pureblood family who had a lot of children. All of them different in so many ways, but exactly the same. The one who had caught your attention was George Weasley. Him and his brother were always up to something that involved a potion.

lucky for you, you were always brewing a potion when you had freetime. Due to all the stress and not having a way to let it go, you would make yourself a draught of peace to keep your emotions in order. it worked for the most bit, it only lasted a couple hours so you only took it during classes.

☼-☪-☼

6th Year

you were stirring your elixir with a utensil when the creaking sound of the door opening caught your attention. You look from the cauldron and towards two ginger haired twins that were giggling and whispering things to each other that you couldn’t hear.

“Alright you grab the stuff we need- oh”

both of them had looked up at you, freezing in there spots. “I’m guessing you're not supposed to be in here?” you spoke, going back to stirring. They both looked at each other before Fred Weasley spoke up “Your not going to say anything are you?”

you simply shrug your shoulders before placing the utensil on the table “I could care less, as long as you don’t say anything either” you say. The both of them grin before Fred goes to the cupboards to gather his needed ingredients, leaving you with George.

he casually steps over to you and leans over your shoulder to look into your cauldron. He didn’t have to lean at all actually, he was much taller then you. “A draught of peace? Feeling stressed lately?” he questions, cocking his head to the side in a curious manner.

stressed was an understatement , but he didn’t know that “Something like that” you respon, figuring if you gave him a vague answer he’d take that as a sign to leave you alone. George only seemed more curious “How mysterious” he mumbles lowly to himself before leaving you to your potion.

eventually you fill up about five vials full of potion and put your cauldron back in it’s respective area. Once you pocket the vials, you leave the twins to there mischievous task and you were on your way. That was your first encounter with George Weasley.

☼-☪-☼

five vials only lasted you a week, so later on a friday night you snuck out of your dorm and into the potions classroom. You had on a grey hoodie, black leggings, and fuzzy white socks, something you wore to sleep in. It was comfortable.

today was especially stressful for you because most of the Slytherin house was irritated, which meant they were short with there words and snappy. The twins had pulled a prank on the Slytherin house by leaving pastries for them inside the dungeon.

the Hufflepuffs would usually leave treats for Slytherins so it wasn’t strange, but it was actually a spiked cauldron cake that turned their hair different colors. You were one of the lucky ones since you had woken up late, never getting the chance to eat one.

once you entered the classroom, you were met with a ginger boy. George Weasley, the twin who kept his orange locks shoulder length. It was how anyone really told the difference between the two. Fred cut his long ago and George had not, pretty simple.

“Oh, you again. Hello” he spoke before going back to chopping up some ingredient. His casual tone ticked you off more than you’d like to admit and you just scoffed, going to collect your items. The wizard seem to notice your behaviour “Bad day?”

you grab the cauldron from the shelf, exhaling deeply “Yes actually. After the stunt you pulled on Slytherin” you reply, irritation seeping into your tone. A very cocky grin made a way onto his freckled face “Oh? Then maybe you shouldn’t have started it”

your grip of the cauldron tightened. Any tighter and you might smash it to pieces. Placing the cauldron down harshly, you turn your head to face him “Look whatever feud you have with a couple Slytherins isn't my damn problem, mess with them not the collective house. It’s rude”

as soon as you finished speaking you put your face in your hands. So much for not stressing out. You shake your head a bit to push away any remaining thoughts then go back to what you were doing, collecting whatever you needed. George on the other hand looked a mix between guilt and confusion.

he felt guilty because it was true, he could have just pranked the two or three Slytherins he was initially after, but he didn’t. He was confused because you had blew up on him so quickly, almost like you were holding it in for so long that it was waiting to be let out?

“i guess i got carried away this time. I apologize- wait what’s your name?” George suddenly asked, realizing he didn’t know who you were exactly. All he could guess was that you were Slytherin by your previous statements, which surprised him a bit since you seemed....nicer.

once you were settled at a table you looked up at the 6′3 boy “Y/n, i accept your apology, George Weasley” you say then look back down at the table. George lets out a small chuckle “I guess i don’t need to tell you my name then. I must be very popular then” You couldn’t help but snicker at his smugness.

“yeah i guess you are”

☼-☪-☼

7th Year

and ever since the beginning of sixth year, you’d meet George and sometimes Fred in the potions classroom to chat while you made potions. You loved the times you could hang out with twins, they always made you laugh when you had a bad day.

but you cherished the times you got George alone. you just connected with him a different way. Whenever you worked on a potion he would push your hair out of your face or stand behind you, looking over you shoulder. The small touch sent ripples through you that you had never felt before.

at first you thought maybe it was because you had thought of him as your friend, but whenever Draco or Fred had touched you you didn’t feel anything. Soon enough he started his casual flirting which included him complimenting your looks or how good you looked in a certain outfit.

it made your face feel hot and your stomach feel all queasy like you had bug or something, but you were never actually sick. After searching the library for possible answers you overheard Hermione Granger talking to Ginny Weasley, they were talking about what they felt when a certain guy talked to them.

increase in heart rate, sweaty palms, queasy stomach, etc. Then they said one thing that changed your perspective “Don’t you hate being in love with someone, it’s so heart wrenching” you spent the rest of that day in your dorm room stressing out like usual, but this time is wasn’t over your parents.

now you had two things on your mind, your parents and George. A weird mix for sure. You were in love with George? How could this of happened? but you knew exactly how this happened, that Weasley twin used his charms and good looks to seduce you.

what a bloody menace.

now you were sitting at the Slytherin table in the great hall. Draco sat next to you, chatting it up with Blaise and his boyfriend Theo. You were just about to take another bite of food when an owl, a familiar owl flew over the table. It had a letter in its claws.

once it passed over you it dropped the letter. You reach up and catch it in your hands “Ooo a letter” Draco comments, wiggling his eyebrows like a dork. You roll your eyes playfully and nudge his shoulder. He chuckles and turns back to face Blaise once again.

you turn the letter in your hands, the wax stamp catching your attention. It was the initial of your last name, which meant it was from your parents. Great. You pop off the wax seal and slip it into your robe pocket before taking the sheet of parchment out of the envelope.

‘Dear Y/n, your father and i have read your recent grades and we are utterly disappointed. You’ve only gotten an Acceptable in all your classes. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a child who can not excel in anything? your the reason me and your father have been bickering so often. For the upcoming break you will be staying at Hogwarts and studying everyday and night. We also found a journal in your room with all the horrible lies you write about us. Don’t come back until you learn how to be a grateful daughter’

well that killed the mood. Why did they read your diary? What kind of parent does that? Was it really all your fault that your parents fought? “Aw poor Y/n? Do mommy and daddy not love you anymore? How does is feel princess?” you had almost forgotten that you were sitting next to her.

she was a Slytherin girl who didn’t like you because you weren’t a pureblood and because your parents only acted like they cared so much about you in public. You figured out quickly she was jealous of what she thought that you had, loving parents.

you neglected saying anything back to because you heard that her father was locked up in Azkaban a little while ago and admittedly felt bad for her, but for some reason the way she said it. The way she was so smug with her words just rubbed you the wrong way.

your whole life you’ve let every negative thought fester and build up like a disease. It was like a pot of boiling water that was about to bubble over and spill out. You hadn’t taken any draught of peace either in a couple hours because lunch was usually peaceful for you.

this poor girl was going to get the anger you’ve held since you were a child and you would feel guilty for it later, but the lid on your metaphorical bottle had popped off. You stood up from your seat and looked down at her, surprising her and Draco.

“Listen here you stuck up bitch, i can’t fathom a reason as to why you have to fuck with with me constantly?! You think this shit is a one time thing?!” you stop momentarily to throw the letter at her face. She swats it away, her face draining of color from embarrassment.

“Try living with them for 17 years and then you’ll figure out that they only act like your family in public! They send you huge gifts on your birthday to make sure other people see! You have no right to harass me like you do! I wish i had loving parents!”

the girl sat there stunned. What could she say anyway? That she was sorry probably, but you most likely wouldn’t have accepted that answer at the moment. You had caught everyone's attention at this point with your loud, harsh words. Even the bright honey colored eyes of George focused on you.

angry tears had forced their way out your E/c eyes despite your efforts in trying to hold them in. You look around the great hall, looking at all the eyes staring back at you. Without a second thought you rush out the great hall, hearing two distinct voices shout for you to come back.

☼-☪-☼

breathe

breathe!

why was it so hard to breathe? Were your clothes tightening or were the lungs in your chest failing on you. You rush outside into the empty courtyard, gripping your robe to tug it away from your skin almost as if it was choking you. You start to pull at your clothes more.

you remove your arms from the sleeves of your robe and drop it on the grass beneath you. Still couldn’t breathe. Reaching for the bottom of your vest you slip it up and over your head and drop it on top on your robe. Lastly, you tug at your tie to loosen it.

you were still hyperventilating.

“Y/n?”

turning around you saw the familiar honey colored eyes look down at you. A face of confusion and sadness n his freckled face. George Weasley. No, please you would only complicate your emotions more, but you wanted so badly to be his embrace at the moment.

he decided for you, cause as soon as he saw your tears. He felt his heart tug harshly.

“Oh darling” he started, his voice broken and raspy like he was about to break out in tears as well “Come here” he finished and held his arms out for you and that was enough for you. You rush into his embrace and are instantly meant with calming scent of burning wood, and wood from a broomstick.

your wheezing noise worried George and he started to rub your head “Darling you need to breathe okay? Your going to faint if you keep doing that, in and out okay?” he inhales loudly so you could hear and you copy his actions, doing the same when he exhaled.

after a couple minutes you were breathing just fine, but you still felt terrible. “Everything's all my fault. i tried so hard to be a good person, but it’s never good enough. I didn’t burden anyone with my problems and hid them away- i just couldn’t do it anymore”

your voice cracked, the lump in your throat going away. George pulled his head away that was resting on top of your hand and used one of his hands to gently force your chin up to look at him. He used the other hand to reach in his back pocket.

George pulls out the same folded parchment that you had read earlier “This? You believe this rubbish? Y/n you are the most interesting girl i’ve ever met and i wish you had told me about this. I’m your..friend and i want to help you. Listen, you are strong, brave, and anybody would be lucky to just breathe your air”

you cracked a small smile at his words which seemed to make his face light up as well. “Thank you George. I suddenly feel very faint” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Probably from crying so much darling. Let me take care of you for the rest of the day, okay?”

“Do i really have a choice?”

“Not really, no”

☼-☪-☼

George took you to his dorm- oh wait. he actually carried you to his dorm. He didn't want you to actually faint and hit your ‘pretty little head’ on the hard floor. His words exactly. The rest of the day was spent of him feeding and you and making sure you were hydrated.

after asking only once you opened up to him about your parents and there expectations. His face of horror was enough to make you realize that what was happening to you wasn’t normal. After you had finished talking it was almost like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

you felt free.

it was towards the evening time and you didn’t want to intrude any longer. “Thank you for helping me, it’s getting pretty late-” “You sound like your leaving?” George cut you off just as you stood up from his bed, looking at you with pleading eyes “Stay? Just for the night?”

“What if a professor sees me when i leave the next morning and where would i sleep?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest. George shrugs his shoulders “It's saturday tomorrow no professors will be checking and you’ll sleep in my bed, with me. I promise not to be to handsy darling”

a cocky smirk grew on his face, making your stomach twist and turn just like all the other times before. You began to stumble on your words “Uh- i- i don’t have anything to wear” you huff. His smirk seems to grow wider, if that was even possible.

“you can wear some of my clothes of course-” a knock cuts him off and he look towards the door “I’ll see who that is and send them away. You get dressed, i won’t peek” George sends you a cheeky wink before going to the door. what a dork.

nonetheless, you go over to his dresser and began to dig through the drawer while he went over to the door. Once he opened it, you couldn’t help but listen in. “Hey Freddie” George says in a sing song voice. Fred Weasley. “Hey, it’s saturday. Potion time”

potion time?- oh for pranks. Was he going to leave you to go make potions? you pick out a burnt orange jumper with a ‘G’ initial and black sweats “Actually i can’t tonight? Maybe tomorrow?” he replies, making Fred’s face twist in confusion before astonishment.

“Oh! You have a girl in there don’t you!” he said quite loudly, making George shush him quickly. You began unbutton your uniform shirt. “Lower your voice, i’m not tryin to get caught because of you” he replies. You place your shirt on a chair next to you and slip the jumper over your head. It was huge on you.

Fred stifles laughter and leans against the doorframe “Who is it” he says, making you freeze for a moment. George raises a brow “and why would i tell you that?” he questions while you push your skirt down your legs, kicking it away with your feet. “Oh because i’m your brother? Your twin brother George”

they were adorable. You pull the sweats on and tie the strings so it was resting snuggly on your hips. “yeah yeah whatever, bye Freddie” George begins to close the door “Aw come on don’t be like that-” he shuts the door on his brother and turns back to look at you.

“Sorry about that-” he froze in place, his eyes taking a mental image of how you looked. He could die at that moment and be content with life. You notice his weird face and looked down at the outfit “I’m sorry, should have i have picked something else?”

he didn’t say anything and just stepped towards you until he stood inches in front of you. He reaches up to grab your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You also noticed a small smile on his face that was slowly growing into a grin. “George?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

he tilts his head a bit as his golden eyes scan your face “Can i kiss you Y/n?” he asked, catching you off guard. He wanted to kiss you? Did you want to kiss him? He made you laugh, smile, and feel like you were the only witch in the whole wizarding world.

yeah, you definitely wanted to kiss him.

you nodded once and that was enough for him. He dipped down to your height and plants his lips on yours. The calming scent of burning wood invading your nose once again. You respond quickly and kiss him back, feeling his goofy grin, still such a dork.

the kiss was sweet and gentle. George’s heart was beating at a million miles a minute and so was yours. Air, you needed that to live. You both pull away from each other, gripping onto each others clothes. When did that happen? “You are breathtaking darling, literally actually”

you snort at his dorky compliment “Way to kill the mood Weasley” you comment and he chuckles lightly before looking into your eyes “I know today hasn’t been the best for you and this might make it worse, but- i am so in love with you darling. I have been since the first day we met last year”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but at the same time you were waiting for it after that kiss. “I love you too George, you giant dork” he smiles brightly as he scoops you up in his arms for a second to throw you on the bed. you gasp as your back connects with sheets.

he climbs in next you “I take back that promise about being handsy, get ready to be my teddy bear darling”. You feel the fuzzy stomach thing again- or whatever it was called. you watch as he shuts off the lamp and grabs the blanket at the bottom of his bed.

“i think i’ll manage” you reply as he places the sheet over your body and his. George turns his body towards you and grabs your waist “Tonight? yes, in the morning i have you all to myself as well and i don’t plan on letting you leave” he smirk was screaming what his intentions were the following morning.

your face must have been super red. “yeah you wish” you mumble, which makes him snicker. He knew the effect he had on you. “Night darling” he says and kisses your temple sweetly. You smile and lay your head on his chest, falling asleep in his embrace.

☼-☪-☼

Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @moonpi3 @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss

☼-☪-☼

Kody: It’s 5am?! oh shit- well anyways peace lmao.

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bellshells · 4 years

Text

Nobody Can Know

REQUEST: Maybe something with George Weasley and a slytherin reader? He has a crush on her and Fred teases him for it, they start dating in secret but Fred tells their siblings and they all disapprove because they think she's evil (maybe because she's friends with Draco,Blaise etc) but she's actually quite nice but still a proud slytherin and fits all their attributes? If you even write for George that is?:)

For @hinagiku0 x

Summary: This one got away from me. Reader and George enter a secret relationship that threatens the relationships of everybody close to them. Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Smut, slight praisekink!George. Everyone is of age. If the smut isn’t your thing, just stop reading at the bold text :)

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin Fem!Reader Word Count: 9k+ Part Two

This is my first reader insert, and I hope you enjoy it. Requests are open!<3

“That pathetic Weasley is staring at you again, (Y/N),” Draco whispered from his seat next to you. You whipped your head round in the direction that Draco was looking and saw the usual gaggle of Gryffindor girls fawning around the infamous Weasley twins as they tried to eat their breakfast. Although Fred was clearly enjoying the attention, balancing his spoon on his nose and earning laughs from his adoring crowd; George sat quietly by his brother’s side. His attention fixed quite intently towards the Slytherin table to where you sat sandwiched between Draco and Blaise, the latter’s interest quite firmly placed in conversation with Pansy Parkinson- but Draco noticed, and so did you. You offered George a small smile and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear as, with pink cheeks, George returned your smile. Draco looked incredulously between the two of you. “Are you mad, (Y/N)? What do you think you’re doing?” He pinched your arm and you rubbed it with a groan. “What?” You snapped, “I was just being friendly, a quality you clearly don’t possess.” Draco rolled his eyes and returned to his breakfast in silence, you continued to rub your arm as you shifted your gaze to once more meet with George’s. He was still smiling as Fred tapped him on the shoulder to leave, he stood and gave you a small wave. You were accustomed to feeling butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at George Weasley and they fluttered with gay abandon as you watched him shoulder to shoulder with Fred leave the Great Hall with long strides.

Nobody knew the way you felt about him and in truth, you had tried to tell yourself otherwise also. You knew if you were to tell any of your friends, your pureblood Slytherin friends that is, you would be met with nothing but disdain and you feared being lonely. The thought of being excluded from your friendship group was enough to keep your secret longing for George just that, a secret. Whilst you were a proud Slytherin and proud of your heritage and family name; the way your friends; especially Draco spoke about your classmates made you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t see anything wrong with being friends with half-bloods and muggleborns, hell, you wouldn’t be averse to being friends with a muggle themself if they were a nice person. But that too, you kept to yourself. You hoped that this prejudiced front Draco and the like portrayed was something he would grow out of, you knew that alone, he really was quite lovely. Having spent summer after summer visiting the Malfoy estate with your parents as a child, you came to realise that Draco’s parents buried him under a lot of pressure. The Malfoy name was weighted enough, and you knew Draco weathered his days carrying around his privilege like a heavy burden, terrified of putting one foot wrong. It was easier for him to act the part of willing crusader for the purification of wizard blood, than to actually think about the alternative. Your parents had instilled in you as you entered your third year that it was important for you to look out for Draco, keep him on the straight and narrow so to speak. That being said, you took silent solace in the time away from him. You were two years older than Draco and cherished your classes away from your childhood friend. But as the years had gone, you now in your seventh-year, and Draco in his fifth, you still felt compelled to stand by your promise to your parents. But being away from him meant you could interact with whomever you wished to, and for the most part that was George Weasley.

You wondered whether he could hear your heart thundering in your chest as you took your usual seat next to him in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall in her genius had chosen to separate Fred and George during their OWLs, so the seat next to George at the back of the classroom was always free, and you always took it. You reached into your bag for your parchment and a quill for George as he produced an ink pot and placed it in between the two of you. Another of your unspoken rituals, George never had a quill and in return for your consistent generosity, he shared his ink. He smiled in thanks as he took it from you, his fingers barely grazing yours in the exchange, yet it was enough to make your skin burn under his slight touch. You swallowed and shrugged your robes from around your shoulders, suddenly feeling very warm.

Throughout the lesson, you exchanged few words with George. He knew you were struggling with retaining everything McGonagall was whizzing through, and you were grateful that he tried not to distract you. You were so worried about passing your NEWTs and you felt supremely out of your depth. With an exasperated sigh, you threw your wand onto the desk and thrust your head into your hands. You could feel George’s eyes on you and sure enough as you peeked through your fingers, he was frowning sympathetically as he poured a glass of water from the pitcher he had transfigured from a large leather bound book. A similar book sat on the desk in front of you, un-transfigured and mocking you.

“Are you okay (Y/N)?” George asked softly. He offered you the glass of water and sat back in his chair. “I’m never going to be able to do this.” You moaned and took the glass from George’s hand and took a tentative sip. “Tastes like Shakespeare.” “Well that’s no good, it was bloody Marlowe!” He joked and picked up your wand and passed it to you. Begrudgingly you took it, but George didn’t remove his hand. Instead he placed it on top of yours and slowly guided your hand in the correct moment. You couldn’t keep your eyes from his face as he faltered in his slightly as his breath hitched in his throat. “Well, something like that anyway.” George whispered, there was barely any space between you, and you were painfully aware of how close his body was to yours. You could feel the heat his embrace would offer if you were to lean back only slightly. Your chest heaved quickly as George’s gaze left your eyes and flickered down to your lips. You licked them subconsciously and George’s frown appeared again as he swiftly brought a hand to the back of his head with an exclamation of pain. You tore your gaze away from George as you both looked to the front of the classroom as Fred sat with a bag of boiled sweets, his arm raised above his head ready to launch another in your direction. “Mr. Weasley!” A stern Scottish voice from somewhere near the front of the classroom brought every head in the room to attention. Professor McGonagall emerged from behind her desk and with a swish of her wand summoned the bag of sweets from Fred’s hand and clasped it in her own. “If you have transfigured your book into a pitcher, you can change it back again.” Fred groaned as he turned his back to you and George but not before shooting a wink in his brothers’ direction. George muttered under his breath as he relieved his grip on your wand and shuffled away from you. You could feel your cheeks warm as you took another sip of George’s water. After a few minutes of silence and you trying and failing to transfigure your book, George cleared his throat. “(Y/N),” He began, “Would you like to meet me in the library before dinner and I can help you with transfiguration?” “You want to help me?” You asked, he looked at you expectantly and nodded. “More like I just want to put you out of your misery.” You giggled and gave him a wide smile. “That would be wonderful, thank you George.” “Shall we say five?” “Sounds perfect.” “Okay, brill.” “Yeah, cool.”

You paced back and forth in the Slytherin common room at quarter to five. Pansy eyed you suspiciously over a copy of The Daily Prophet and as you clocked her gaze as you paced towards the fireplace, she snapped it shut and threw it to the side. “What’s the matter with you?” She muttered as she examined her fingernails. “Nothing,” You replied checking your watch for the umpteenth time. “Just need to be somewhere soon.” “Well piss off then, you’re doing my head in.” You threw Pansy a sarcastic grimace and picked up your discarded bag and made your way from the dungeons up the stairs towards the library.

You were out of breath when you reached the large wooden doors and checked your watch, five minutes to spare. You looked at your reflection in the panes of glass and straightened your green and silver tie. You knew you were pretty, but at that moment you couldn’t help but pick out features of your complexion that suddenly filled you with loathing. You hoped George wouldn’t notice the spot forming on your chin, or the tuna you had for lunch, or the fact you had forgotten to run a brush through your hair before you left. You were too busy pacing. You pushed the heavy door open and began to search between the long lines of shelves to find a suitable place to meet with George. You began to move down a row of book lined shelves when you spotted two redheaded boys conversing in hushed tones. You inched closer towards them, careful to not let yourself be seen.

“I’m just saying Georgie, of all the girls in school you had to pick her.” Fred whispered, George scowled and shook his head. “You don’t understand, she’s different-” “She’s a Slytherin, mate. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I swear she’s best pals with Malfoy!” “Grow up, Fred. You don’t know anything about her!” “And you do?” Fred countered coolly, he frowned at his brother and stood. “All I’m doing is asking you to consider all your options before you make any big decisions. Imagine what mum would say.” With that, Fred clasped George on the shoulder and went to leave, he caught your eye as you peered around the corner of the bookshelf and your heart froze as you knew you’d been caught. “Alright (Y/L/N)?” Fred said cheerfully as he sauntered passed you. “Fred.” You nodded in acknowledgment, your cheeks burning with shame. George pursed his lips as you approached him. He drew his fingers though his hair with a sigh as you perched on the edge of a nearby table. A heavy silence fell between the two of you as you waited to see if George would break it. You bit down on your lip. You shouldn’t have heard what you did, and you felt an immense guilt wash through you, but deep in the pit of your stomach was a little fire fuelled by hope. Does this mean George feels the same way you do?

“George-” “Did you hear much of that-” You and George said at the same time, you gave him a weak smile and he chuckled softly. “(Y/N),” George began, he moved swiftly to sit alongside you on the table. His brown eyes searched your face intently. “I’m sorry if you heard- I mean, what Fred said…it’s just…” He fiddled with the frayed edge of his jumper; you had never seen George like this before. He was flustered and bashful and it made your heart swell. “I don’t really know how to say what it is I want to say.” He said finally. George stood and walked towards the big window that overlooked the courtyard. He placed an arm on the windowpane and leaned into it, his head flopped forward. You wondered whether you should say something, it didn’t seem like George was finished and in truth, you weren’t sure whether you would be able to articulate anything.

“If I tell you something, will you promise you wont laugh at me?” George said, his shoulders slumped forward. “I thought you loved to make people laugh?” You said casually, his head twisted in your direction a sly smirk nestled on his lips. He sighed once more and turned to face you. “Yes obviously,” George said sarcastically, “But just for this one time, I need you to listen and not laugh. Okay?” “Okay.” You agreed. George took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I like you. A lot.”

You felt like you had had the wind knocked out of you. George looked at you sheepishly, his hands once again finding the hem of his jumper. You blinked slowly, surely you were dreaming. You would wake up at any minute, the familiar sight of the green canopy around your bed would greet you and you would desperately try to return to your dream. And yet, you didn’t. No abrupt awakening, no fade to black, just George, lovely George waiting for you to say something. “(Y/N?)” “Yes. Lovely. Thank you.” You managed, you instantly cringed as the words left your mouth. Why did you say that? You had waited for as long as you could remember to get to this point with George, and instead of telling him you were completely in love with him, you thanked him. George’s hesitant smile began to fall, and your heart ached. “What I mean- George, is I-” “No, it’s okay. Cheers for letting me say that.” George replied, he rolled the sleeves of his jumper up over his arms and stepped past you widely, his back to you in two short steps. Panicking, you grasped onto his wrist and stopped him short. “Wait! Please wait!” You pleaded; George looked from your face down to your grip of his wrist. You let go immediately but moved rapidly to meet him. “I hadn’t finished.” George shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, he crossed his arms over his chest in anticipation. “You really like me?” You asked softly, you hoped your face did not betray the sheer pandemonium happening inside your mind. George scoffed. “Don’t take the piss out of me, (Y/N).” “I’m not!” You protested. “I’m just a bit shocked George, that’s all-” “I don’t think I could have made it any more obvious, and, not forgetting the fact I just said the words out loud. To your face.” He snapped. “George, can I get a bloody word out please? Merlin, you can be so frustrating when you want to be.” You sighed; George raised his eyebrows. “It’s quite lucky that you like me really, because it turns out that I…like you…too.” You bit down on your lip, slightly anxious as to what George would say. The taller boy just stared at you, unblinking. “Sorry, what?” “I…like you, George? And I’m happy that you like me?” “Right…well, okay then.”

A laugh of pure elation fell from your lips as George’s bewildered look turned into one of joy. He embraced you in an instant, his hands found your hips as he pulled you close into him. The contact surprised you, it took you a moment to react, but soon enough you brought your arms up around his broad shoulders, reaching up on your tip toes. You couldn’t supress the grin that was so wide it made your cheeks tingle as George surrounded every part of you. His arms tight around your back and his chin brought down to rest against your head. You didn’t want to pull away, but the sound of a throat being cleared somewhere behind you caused the pair of you to spring apart. Madame Pince removed a book from a far-away shelf and raised a knowing eyebrow in your direction. You covered your mouth with your hand to conceal an involuntary giggle. George flashed you a brilliant smile and exhaled jubilantly. “So, I suppose it’s time for the cheesy bit.” George smiled, his hand found yours with ease and he entwined his fingers with yours. “(Y/N), would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“I would genuinely like nothing more, it’s just…” You averted your gaze, your cheeks growing warm once again. You contemplated your options, the boy you were absolutely mad for had just asked you to be his girlfriend and you were happy, of course you were. But you couldn’t shake the lump that appeared in your chest when you thought about having to tell your friends that you were with a Weasley. Not only that, the conversation you had overheard between Fred and George signalled that perhaps his friends held the same apprehensions. “What?” George asked earnestly, he rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. You smiled at his touch and swept your eyes over his sweet features. “I don’t think people would be very accepting of our relationship, George.” You said quietly, unable to disguise the trepidation in your voice. George smiled sadly and gestured for you to return to your perch on the table. “I hate to say this, but I have to agree with you.” He said. “Not that I have anything against Slyth-” “No, I understand. Believe me, I do.” You recalled all the tedious conversations with your Slytherin peers about the blood traitors that were the Weasleys. You shook your head to free yourself from the memory and sighed. “What do we do?” “Well, I do have an idea…” George whispered, he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively and you laughed heartily at him.

George held your hand as you walked briskly down the seventh-floor corridor, you threw a look behind you to see if you were still being pursued. Professor Umbridge stalked your trail, followed by members of the Inquisitorial Squad namely Crabbe and Goyle. Draco had begged you to join his fifth year friends in becoming member of Umbridge’s little crusade, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to agree. You had bullshitted an excuse about needing whatever spare time you had to study for your NEWTs and Draco, although suspicious, had accepted it. George tugged on your hand as he quickened his pace, your robes flapped behind you and you couldn’t supress your grin as you once more looked behind your shoulder. Professor Umbridge raised her hand and opened her mouth to speak just as George whipped you round a corner and shoved you into an empty classroom. You laughed headily as he pointed his wand at the door and locked it with a muttered spell. You smoothed your hands over your skirt and waited for George to approach you.

“We really must stop meeting like this, Mr. Weasley.” You smiled, George wrapped his arms around you tightly and lowered his lips to meet yours. It had been three months since he had asked you to be his, and yet you still weren’t accustomed to his touch. It still sent electric pulses coursing throughout your body with every deft movement of his fingertips, and you shuddered as he moved his hand over your rump and gave it a hearty squeeze. George, who was always the more dominant one out of the pair of you nearly always arranged your meetings. While it had been three months since you commenced your relationship, it had been three months of scurrying around in secret and lying to your friends, and in George’s case, lying to his family. George deepened the kiss, his tongue pressed against your lips requesting entry, which of course you granted. Your hands found their way to George’s soft hair and you pulled on it slightly, eliciting a groan from him. You smirked into the kiss as George walked you backwards and hoisted you up onto a vacant desk, you wrapped your legs around him instinctively and he pushed his hips into you. He pulled away from the kiss breathlessly and grasped either side of your face in his hands. He studied you intently as he rubbed his thumbs over your cheeks. “I love you, (Y/N). You know that, don’t you?” You pulled him into you again and ravished his neck with feverish kisses. That was the first time those words had fallen from his lips, you felt like you could melt at the sound of this boy telling you he loved you over and over again. You nipped at the skin there, feeling emboldened by his declaration of love. You didn’t know whether it was the excitement of getting caught or whether you were running on sheer elation, but you couldn’t get your fill of George. “Georgie,” You whispered into his shoulder as his hands gripped onto your thighs tightly as he pushed his groin against your core. “You make me so happy.” “I want to make you feel more than happy.” George winked as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your face towards his and crushed his lips against yours.

“George! What the fuck?!”

A voice from behind you startled the pair of you as you immediately pulled away from George, instantly missing the contact. Fred stood agape in the open doorway flanked by Ginny and Ron each looking equally shocked. You looked at George who had flushed scarlet and had his gaze trained intently on the floor. Ginny let out a stunned gasp and turned on her heel and exited swiftly out of the room. Ron shook his head sadly at his older brother and followed Ginny, calling after her as he went. Fred remained still, his hands balled into fists and his knuckles white with fury. “I thought we agreed, George.” Fred spat. He made a step towards his brother and squared up to him, their faces inches apart. “No. We didn’t.” “You lied to me. You said nothing was going on.” “Fuck off then if you don’t like it. I don’t care anymore, Fred.” You watched in horror as George pushed Fred away by his chest, but quick as a flash, Fred caught George’s hands in his own and pushed him back harder. “You’re a mug.” Fred muttered as he rolled his sleeves up and looked you up and down before chuckling darkly to himself and leaving, slamming the door behind him. A heavy silence descended onto the room as you shuffled down from the desk and chewed on your lip. You couldn’t help but feel guilty as you watched George sigh and run his hands over his face. You bent down to retrieve your bag and haphazardly threw it over your shoulder, you felt your stomach flip on itself as George looked at you tearfully. There was nothing you could do. George said that he didn’t care, you knew it wasn’t true. You were a Slytherin, a pureblood from a long line of wizards with dubious intentions and had long been affiliated with controversial families. There was nothing you could do in this situation to make it any better for you, or for George. You took George’s shaking hand in yours and gave it a tight squeeze before you let it fall back to his side. You quietly made your way out of the room and descended the many stairs towards your common room, the quiet of your dormitory offered you a much-needed solace. George made no attempt to speak or to come after you, and you were glad that he didn’t. He needed to speak to his family, he needed to speak to Fred.

You tried not to worry about him, but that was easier said than done. You hadn’t told him you loved him when he had said it to you, but it seemed inappropriate to say it now. You hoped he already knew.

Draco was waiting for you when you entered the common room. He stood with his arms folded over his chest with an impatient tapping of his foot, he reminded you of his mother. Narcissa was always scolding you as children for dilly-dallying, and with Draco’s long features, he looked just like her. “Where have you been?” He snapped. You tried to move passed him, you averted your eyes to the floor. Draco caught your arm and pulled you backwards. “Where have you been?” He demanded, “And don’t lie.” “Why? Are you spying on me now?” You countered, you shrugged out of his grasp and narrowed your eyes. He looked at you dumbfounded. “Spying on you! I’m looking out for you, (Y/N). Or had you forgotten that we’re supposed to be friends?” Draco thundered, he inched closer to you, his grey eyes alight with anger. “Friends don’t ambush friends when they’ve had a really shitty day.” You spat, you tried once more to move round Draco, but he blocked your path. “Goyle saw you with the weasel, holding his hand. Do you not have any shame?” Draco paused as he tried to gauge your reaction. He hesitantly placed his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N),” He said softly, “Tell me you’re not seeing him.” “Move aside, Draco.” “(Y/N) please, this is for your own good. I’m trying to-” “Move aside.” “I shall not. I demand you tell me everything that’s happened between you and that horrid muggle-loving traitor-” You snatched your wand from your robes and held it up to Draco’s throat, his eyes widened in fear as he instinctively took a step back. “Not a single person in my family has ever taken orders from a Malfoy, and I don’t expect to start doing so now.” You said venomously. “I asked you politely to move aside, yet you feel compelled to irk me further on a day when you really don’t want to piss me off.” You stood unwavering, wand raised and watched unblinking as a bead of sweat trickled down Draco’s forehead. “Now, fuck off.”

Draco nearly fell over his feet as he scurried into the shadows of the dark room. You continued your journey into your dormitory and pulled your jumper over your head as you flopped backwards onto your bed. Thankfully, the room was empty. You rolled onto your side and pulled your knees up to your chest. You felt peculiar, like you needed to cry and yet no tears came. Instead, you stared blankly off into the middle-distance, replaying the moment you were found by George’s siblings in your mind. The looks of abject horror etched on their faces. You wanted to find them, to try and persuade them that you weren’t the person that they thought you were. That with each passing day spent with George made you feel lighter and unburdened, that you thought that you maybe had a chance at real happiness. Not tainted with the pressure set upon you by your parents to find a nice Slytherin boy, maybe someone who graduated a few years ago and now has an up and coming job in the Ministry. His family name would be one rolled around with mentions of the Dark Lord, of course, and you didn’t want that. You were a proud Slytherin yes, you were cunning and ambitious and every other cliché; but your ambition wasn’t to marry a boring man who would more than likely be sent to Azkaban; your ambition was a tall redheaded boy from Devon who made you laugh and filled your days with joy. You wanted lots of little George’s running around in a house with an abundance of windows that the sun could shine through. You wanted a large, comfy sofa that you could curl up after a hard day and know that the arms surrounding you belonged to him. You wanted a bed that could be the setting for endless nights of pleasure and a dining table scratched and wonky, that the family you made could sit and talk freely, not even sparing a thought as to who might be listening.

You didn’t know you had fallen asleep until you were awoken by the sound of your dormitory door opening, and the two girls you shared with piling in after dinner. Almost comically, your stomach grumbled as you sat and rubbed your eyes wearily. You exchanged polite pleasantries with your dormmates as they started to change from their uniforms. You threw your cloak over your shoulders and pulled the hood up over your head. You ignored anybody that tried to accost you as you left the common room and crept to the kitchens. You had only done this a handful of times, you didn’t know the names of the House Elves that worked tirelessly in the kitchens, but you were always polite, and they seemed to appreciate that. You had tried to ask where the bread was kept so you could make yourself a sandwich, but with a few protestations from you, the little creatures had prepared a lovely supper for you. You wrapped your sandwiches and slice of Victoria sponge securely in a piece of delicate cloth, cradling the pear they had forced you to take in the crook of your arm. You thanked them warmly and hurried through the now darkening corridors. You knew if you were to be caught by Filch or Umbridge, it could spell a horrendous amount of trouble for you. Thankfully, you arrived back to your dormitory unscathed and now ravenous. You got into bed and closed the curtains that surrounded the frame and settled in.

It was difficult for you to relax. You continued through the motions almost on autopilot, you undressed for bed and shuffled to the loo to brush your teeth before climbing heavily into bed. You scrunched your eyes closed and willed sleep to come, the steady breathing of your dormmates tormented you as you tossed and turned. Your concern for George was like a dripping tap, it vibrated in your head with every breath you took. You had waited so long to reach the steady happiness you had with him, and in one afternoon it had potentially been taken away. You tried not to be selfish, you tried not to think about your loss; the way Fred had looked at you both was an image you knew you wouldn’t forget in a hurry. But, you wished for nothing more than to be with George. You wanted to feel his sturdy embrace, his gentle kisses against your head and to hear his heart beating rhythmically in his chest. You simply wished for things to be different.

Three days. Three days it took to receive word from George. The weekend trundled by slowly, with Professor Umbridge’s ever increasing list of banned activities; there wasn’t much left to do. You spent much of your time in your dorm reading, you emerged for mealtimes but kept to yourself, ensuring you were seated far away from Draco. Your seventh-year friends pleased that you had managed to shake off the younger boy. Embarrassed to speak to Draco after you had pulled out your wand and embarrassed that he knew about you and George, you were grateful for the space. You always kept your eyes on your plate or on whomever was speaking to you in the Great Hall, not daring to look over to the Gryffindor table, no matter how much you wished to. You could feel George watching you, it was almost like you had a sixth sense, you were constantly aware of his presence in any room you shared. But you didn’t look. Monday night, after a disastrous day and a near silent Transfiguration lesson, George slipped you a note as you went to leave.

(Y/N),

Please meet me after Quidditch practise this evening. I think it would be good to have a chat.

George

So, that was it. Three days of radio silence for twenty words. You tried not to be annoyed, and quite successfully really, as your annoyance gave way to anxiety as you imagined the inevitable conversation that you would have with George. You couldn’t blame him for choosing his familial relationships over the one he shared with you, but you had began to think that if the time ever came for you to ever make that decision; you would perhaps choose the opposite. You loved him. But you wouldn’t be a point of contention. You prepared your gracious acceptance for his words, confident that he was going to end the relationship. Making it anymore difficult than it needed to be was the last thing you wanted to do, you craved a little normality. The only trouble was that George had become your new normal.

You cursed to yourself as you wrapped your scarf around your neck as you made your way to the quidditch pitch. The Gryffindor practise was just about to finish, and silently you waited on the other side of the players entrance, partially concealed by a tall beam of timber. You chewed absentmindedly on the inside of your cheek, it was cold, and you felt very conflicted. One by one the players descended from dizzying heights and dismounted their brooms. Angelina Johnson gestured for her team to leave the pitch and you tried to hide further behind the beam until you could get George on his own. The redheaded twins were the last to pass you by, they spoke brightly to one another. You strained to hear what they were saying.

“…promise you.” George said to his brother. “…not going to regret this.” The boys moved swiftly through the covered walkway and you hurried after them, your steps muffled by the grass underfoot. “…must be amazing, eh Georgie?” Fred joked and wiggled his eyebrows, George threw his head back in laughter and out of the corner of his eye, caught sight of you. “(Y/N)!” He exclaimed; George flung his broom over to Fred as he rushed to meet you. He seemed to struggle with what to do with his hands, they had reached out to you on impulse, but you stood unwavering. George’s arms dropped back to his sides. He cleared his throat, his brown eyes seared into yours. “Can you come with us, (Y/N)?” George gestured to Fred and he pointed through the players entrance into the direction of the changing rooms. “Why?” You scrunched your face in confusion, “I’m not that kind of girl, George.” George’s face turned a very flattering shade of beetroot and Fred snickered, he reached for your arm and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “Merlin, no. Nothing like that.” George snapped; you fell into step with the twins as Fred pushed open the door to the male changing room. Inside, like a frightening family portrait sat Ron and Ginny, both stone-faced and waiting. You froze as you took in the scene, Fred moved to sit next to Ginny and Ron shuffled in his seat. George placed a hand on the small of your back and ushered you into the room, closing the door behind you.

You stood awkwardly, every pair of eyes burned into each inch of your skin and you felt like you were on fire. “Right.” George began, he offered you a quick smile as he pulled up two stools for the pair of you to sit on, opposite where the other three sat. “My brothers and sister have agreed to have a chat with you- with us, I mean, so they can see what you’re- I mean, we’re like. Together.” He gave you a pained expression, and you could see his pulse throb in his neck. He was nervous. Why was he nervous? “Why don’t they just ask me?” You stated, your resolve hardening as you knew they were here to interrogate you, not to get to know their brother’s girlfriend. “I’ve never known Slytherins to be that forthcoming.” Ginny said raising an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions.” You countered and the younger girl scoffed, she crossed her arms over her chest and eyed you suspiciously. “I don’t think we need to ask any questions at all,” Ron said quietly, “Slytherin, friends with Malfoy in this day and age, all these rumours of dark wizards in well-known families coming out of hiding…says it all really. What else could we possibly need to know?” “You know nothing about me and what? You assume I’m a Death Eater because of my house and my family name?” You spat, you stood to leave but George grasped hold of the sleeve of your robe and pulled you back to your seat. “I’m asking you to please just get to know (Y/N). I’m not asking you to be best mates with her, none of us like Fleur, but we all just get on with our lives.” George tried to level, Ginny just rolled her eyes and Ron tapped his foot impatiently. “(Y/N), why don’t you tell them one thing about yourself, that they might be surprised to hear.” He put an arm around your shoulders and brought his lips to your ear and whispered; “Please darling, I really want this to work. It’s taken me ages to get them to agree to do this.” He paused. “I don’t want to hide anymore.” The earnest look in his eyes made your heart flutter and you sighed deeply. You nodded. “Um. I’m crap at Transfiguration.” You murmured half-heartedly and Fred chuckled, smacking his knee with his hand. “That’s no secret, (Y/N). Tell us something we don’t know.” He said boisterously. You racked your brain for anything you could say that might endear you to them. They didn’t have to like you, just tolerate you. “My parents want me to marry as soon as I leave school. They’ve already started looking for potential suitors for me.” You said quietly, you felt George stiffen beside you and his arm tightened around your shoulders. “Is that true?” He said softly, “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I don’t like thinking about it.” You shrugged. Ginny leaned forward in her seat; her hand covered her mouth concealing any emotion she might be feeling. “Why are you friends with Malfoy?” Ron probed; George hastened to shut his brother up when you placed an arm on his. “No, it’s fine. I can answer, it’s fine.” Ron looked smugly at George before he returned his attention back to you. “My parents asked me to look out for him when he started school. I know he’s a bit of a knobhead, but when he’s by himself he’s actually quite sweet.” “Bollocks!” Ron exclaimed loudly. “He called Hermione a m-” “I know.” You interrupted, there was no need to be reminded of the awful words Draco had used toward Hermione Granger. You had heard all about it after the first time it had happened, and you didn’t speak to him for a week afterward. You hoped it might help him re-evaluate some of his choices, but alas, it did not. “I was really annoyed with him about it, and please understand, I would never use a slur like that.”

Ron smiled at that. You had often wondered whether Draco perhaps held a deeper interest in Hermione Granger, of course he would vehemently deny it whenever the idea was brought up. Ron Weasley on the other hand, made his feelings abundantly clear. If not to himself, but to everybody else. “Why should we believe you?” Ginny pressed, “Why should we think that you’d be a good match for George?” “You don’t have to believe anything, Ginny.” You said softly, your gaze drifted to where George sat at your side. You felt tears prickle your eyes as you thought about how much he meant to you; how much you were willing to sacrifice for him. “I don’t have any ulterior motives for wanting to be with George. I’m actually endangering the standing I have within my family by being with anyone other than a pureblood Slytherin,” Fred winced at your words. “But it doesn’t matter to me. I hope you come to realise that I’m much more than my house. I’ve long lived by the mandate of if you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you; it’s really as simple as that.” The three siblings seemed to take in your words in silence, George gave your shoulder a squeeze and gave your cheek a chaste kiss. You frowned as you looked between the Weasleys, your heart pounded in your chest. Fred crossed his arms and sat back in his seat. “Do you love him, (Y/N)?” He asked, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room as Ron and Ginny inched forward in anticipation of your reply. “With all my heart.” You answered and placed your hand on George’s thigh. “I love you, George.” You said with the most earnest look you could muster, George beamed at you.

“Well isn’t this something…” You turned your head in the direction of the voice which came from behind you, Draco stood in the doorway of the changing rooms flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The badges for the Inquisitorial Squad glistened at their breasts, the three Slytherins raised their wands slowly and pointed them in your direction. You stood immediately and faced the intruders with a hateful glare, removing your own wand from inside your robes and aiming in their direction. “Following me again, Goyle? Crabbe?” You snapped at the two idiots, they exchanged uneasy glances and looked to Draco for reassurance. Draco only smirked at you; he extended his hand to you. “(Y/N) come, you don’t need to be here when Professor Umbridge arrives.” Draco said slyly, you felt George tense next to you. “No thank you, Draco. I’m quite happy here.” You levelled; you kept your wand trained intently onto Draco. The blonde boy scoffed and stretched his fingers out as though to reach for you. “I’ll not ask you again, (Y/N), come here.” His smile appeared strained as once again he offered his hand. You looked between your housemates and George and his family and knew what you needed to do. “I have no idea who you think you’re talking to, Malfoy. It certainly appears like you’re trying to command the last daughter of the (Y/L/N)’s, and I know you’re not that brave. Your pathetic little family means nothing to me, no matter how much money your spineless father throws around. So no, I will not go anywhere with you and your mindless goons.” You were breathless. You heard Ron behind you mutter a bloody hell and Draco’s face contorted into one of rage. “Crabbe, Goyle.” Draco ordered, with a nod the two idiots lurched towards you. “Impedimenta!” You cried with a flourish of your wand, like a shot Crabbe and Goyle were knocked off their feet with groans of pain as they hit the stone floor. George was by your side in an instant, wand raised toward Draco. “Expelliarmus.” George disarmed Draco with ease and caught Draco’s wand in his free hand as it flew through the air. Goyle stood unsteadily on his feet and caught Crabbe by his robes and hoisted the smaller boy to his feet. They scurried out of the room and dragged Draco with them, the blonde-haired boy’s startling grey eyes didn’t leave yours.

When the room was still and the sound of heavy footsteps disappeared, you turned to face Fred, Ron and Ginny. George’s arm snaked around your hip as you stood and bit your lip. Ginny was the first to step forward, she looked at you sadly and put her arms around your shoulders and pulled you in for a tight hug. You were surprised by the contact and it took a moment before you wrapped your arms around her back and embraced the hug. Ginny pulled back after a moment and turned to face Ron, who smiled at you and gave your shoulder an awkward squeeze. “Bloody hell, (Y/N). I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Malfoy like that.” Ron said and looked between you and George. “That can’t have been easy.” Ginny added, “We should leave though, if Umbridge is coming that is.” It was unanimously agreed to return into the main body of the castle, Ginny and Ron left first, you remained where you were. George still held fast to your waist and Fred stared at the floor. “So? Freddie?” George whispered. “Come on mate, don’t tease me like this.” “You were right.” Fred said, he brought his gaze slowly from the floor until it settled on your face. “She is different. And I’m happy for you.” George beamed brightly at his brother as he gave his consent. You couldn’t help but exhale and grin at the twins, George pulled Fred closer to the pair of you and pulled you both in for a crushing hug. You laughed as you were thrown about by George’s jubilant swaying, George kissed the top of your head and then kissed the top of Fred’s. “Oh look, my two-favourite people in the whole world.” George laughed, Fred pulled away and offered his hand to you. You shook it with a smile. “Suppose I best send an owl to mum, get her to knit another Christmas jumper.” Fred winked at you before he shook his head and exited the changing room. You looked up at George’s face with a confused expression and he simply shook his head. He turned you to face him and clasped your face in his hands. “You love me then?” He said, his gaze dancing from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. “I always have,” You answered, closing the distance between you and brought your lips to meet George’s. He accepted your kiss hungrily, not wasting any time in exploring your mouth with his tongue. “I love you so much, (Y/N). The air I breathe wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t by my side.” His hands drifted down your back and travelled under your skirt, taking firm hold of your bum. He squeezed it and gave it a playful slap; you felt a stirring deep in your stomach as George’s hands roamed over your body. Your hands tangled in his hair as you kissed along George’s jawline and down his neck. Feeling brave, you moved your hands under George’s quidditch robes and pushed them from his shoulders. He shrugged his arms free and let his robes fall to the floor with a thud, your robe was next, it joined George’s on the floor as he tugged at your jumper. You pulled it over your head quickly and connected your mouth with George’s for another searing kiss. “I could be homeless,” You said kissing George’s neck, “Penniless,” Another kiss, “Hungry,” A bite, “And cold.” You trailed your tongue along his bottom lip. “But none of that would matter as long as you were mine.” He growled as he kissed you passionately, he pushed his hips into yours and you groaned.

George broke the kiss suddenly; you were panting and the heat in your knickers was becoming to powerful to ignore. “Fancy a shower?” He asked devilishly.

The water ran hot over your shoulders as you kissed George desperately. He palmed at your breasts as you ran your hands down his shoulder blades, your fingernails scraped their way down his back, and he shuddered under your touch. His mouth kissed down your chest as he took your nipple in his mouth, he rolled his tongue over your stiffened peak and grazed it with his teeth. You moaned at the sensation and rubbed your thighs together, desperate for relief. His hand wandered down from your breast and fluttered over your core, your head rolled back as you whispered his name. “God, I want to touch you so badly.” George growled, you smirked down at him. His hair now sopping from the water and fell into his eyes, you deftly moved the heavy red locks out of his face. “Then touch me.” That was all George needed. He dropped to his knees in front of you, kissing down your chest and your stomach as he pushed you backwards until your back hit the cold tiled shower wall. George had charmed the door of the changing rooms and the communal showers now acted as your own sanctuary, you watched as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and buried his face into you.

He licked your clit gently, and you hissed at the much-needed contact. His hands found their way around your thighs and held you steadily in place. He suckled on your raised nub and waves of pleasure coursed through you. You bucked your hips against George’s mouth, and he gave a throaty laugh which vibrated through you deliciously. He flattened his tongue against you and shook his head, the friction on your sex was almost more than you could bear, but George continued relentlessly. He pulled you even closer into him, his tongue following the shape of your folds until ultimately, it was inside you. He fucked you with his tongue as his nose brushed against your clit, he quickened his pace to match the gyrating of your hips and hummed into your centre as he worshipped you. You guided his head with your hands, sticking it in place as you felt your orgasm build. “Georgie,” You breathed, “You’re going to make me cum.” He didn’t respond, he just continued in his devotion of your cunt. Pulse after pulse of pleasure electrified your body as you came hard and loud. George lapped at you like he couldn’t get his fill, allowing you to rub yourself on his face as you rode out your high. When he stood, you were unsteady on your feet and George grasped hold of your waist and grounded you. You lazily swept your gaze over his lean form; he was surprisingly muscly, and his toned abs glistened under the running water. George was painfully hard, you could see his cock twitching, like it begged to be played with. He kissed you then, full of the same hunger as before and you returned his desire by taking hold of his member in your hand and giving it a hard squeeze. George spluttered and thrust his hips forward into your hand. You looked up at him innocently as you smirked at him, his eyes half closed. “Would you like to fuck me, Georgie?”

He moaned into your shoulder as he lifted you up by your legs and wrapped them around his waist. George again pushed your back against the wall as he lined himself up with your centre. He looked into your eyes and gave you a gentle smile before you nodded, and he pushed himself into you. You both let out moans of pleasure at the sensation of him filling you to the hilt, George’s legs threatened to buckle as you adjusted to his length. This wasn’t the first time that you had been intimate with George, but this time felt different. He gazed into your eyes as he thrust into you, his brow furrowed as you moaned. He felt so good inside you, he filled you to the brim and then some and there was pain, but the pain was so delectable that you cherished it. “Such a good girl,” George cooed as he thrust into you. “Such a good girl taking my cock.” With each delicious thrust from George, you could feel him as he bruised your cervix, he rutted into you shamelessly, a string of curses fell from his lips as he tried to silence himself by biting down on your shoulder. “Oh God George, I love you.” You whined, you felt like you were on fire. “I love you; I love you; I love you.” You eyes fluttered closed as you bounced on his cock, you felt that same stirring in your stomach start to build, George could sense it too as his thrusts became more desperate. “The way you stood up to Malfoy really turned me on.” He grunted. “Such a good girl standing up for your man.” He suckled on your neck, no doubt marking you. “Good girls get rewarded.” His hands around your thighs would leave marks, you knew, but you didn’t care. Your orgasm built steadily, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space and echoed around you, wet and hot. You came at the same time, he moaned loudly as his cock twitched inside you and filled you deep with his hot load. Your walls tightened around him with your orgasm, milking him to utter completion. George breathed heavily as he gently set you down. You captured his lips for a kiss, different than before, more tender.

You dressed hurriedly and scurried through the castle careful to not be seen by Filch or anybody else. He walked you down the steps to the dungeons, stopping only when you came to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Elated, you threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed hm deeply. George chuckled and pulled back to look at you, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Goodnight darling, I hope you dream of me.” He said softly, in the near blackness of the dungeons you could barely make out his features. You pecked his lips once more and turned to enter the common room, you stopped just before you stepped over the threshold and turned back. “George?” You whispered into the darkness, you hoped he was still there. “Yes?” His unmistakable voice replied. “I love you. You mean everything to me. I know there’s nothing that we can’t do if we’re together.” You whispered, you could feel a tear threaten to fall as you thought of all the people that were going to find out about your relationship and what you had to tell them, what you stood to lose. “Exactly my darling, I’ll be there by your side. Forever, I promise.” You heard him chuckle, “Well, maybe not in your Transfiguration exam. You’re on your own with that one, I’m afraid.” You rolled your eyes and took one last look into the blackness, just about to make out his figure. “Goodnight then, I love you.” “Goodnight, (Y/N). I love you too.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #Ron Weasley #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #reader insert #slytherin reader #order of the phoenix #Harry Potter #harry potter reader insert #requests #nobody can know

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sirtwentyofhousegoodmen · 3 years

Note

If you're doing prompts then I'd love to see what Arcturus reaction was to Lucretia being born

February 12th, 1925

The sound of a wail of pain punctured through the tense silence that had settled over the drawing room of Grimmauld Place.

“Your grandmother didn’t make nearly as big a fuss as that slip of a wife of yours when she gave birth to my children,” groused his grandfather Phineas Nigellus, though, like so many of his rejoinders in the past few months, it lacked any real bite to it. The half-blind, knock-kneed, rather frail man sat on the divan across from him was a shadow of the dignified, intimidating headmaster he’d been not three years ago.

Seventy-five was rather young for a Wizard to get so sick—but he supposed with his youngest son’s death and his eldest’s dipsomania, it was only a matter of time before all the stress got to the old goat and he keeled over.

“Melania is of a more delicate disposition than mother,” his father said, oddly sober. Arcturus supposed once he’d got the news that Phineas Nigellus would grace them all with his presence he cleaned out his liquor cabinet in anticipation.

At least something was enough to get him to look up from the bottle.

“Delicate,” Phineas Nigellus wheezed out, shaking his head in something most likely meant to convey his contempt for the word. “Weak, more like.” He turned his milky eyes over to Arcturus. “Pray she handles the stress of it better than your mother did, boy.”

“Father,” The heir to the Black family, rather than defend the memory of his wife, merely screwed his face up as if he were in pain.

Arcturus glared at his grandfather, hotly. “My mother did her duty and gave my father two sons.”

“Yes,” Phineas Nigellus took a puff from his cigar, following it with a shaky sip of brandy. “And only one of them is of any use to us—with only a girl to show for it. Duty, indeed.”

Regulus shifted uncomfortably, swirling around his drink in his goblet.

“Father, can we not have a day of peace?” His Uncle Arcturus spoke up from his seat on the chaise, eyes focused on his lit cigar, as if putting it through some sort of imaginary test. “Daughter or not, this is a joyous occasion—another addition to the House of Black.”

“Pah, of course you’d think that. It’s not another addition, you clod, it’s another girl.” Phineas Nigellus grunted out, and his second son—who’d only given him granddaughters—clenched his jaw in anger but remained quiet. “And in a month, Pollux is going to give us another. Four sons, four bloody sons I gave your mother—and what do they give me in turn? Two brides for another man’s son to carry on his name—and no one to carry on mine.”

“Arcturus has all girls, Cygnus gives me a dolt and a squib, and Sirius an impudent wretch and a pansy.”Phineas Nigellus shook his head, looking so very tired, then heaved out a rattling sigh. “If only my father could see what’s become of this family.”

Before he could turn around from his spot standing at the fireplace, a sharp retort for his corpse of a grandfather fresh in his mind, the double doors of the drawing room burst open, and Lycoris—hair slightly undone and her dress a wrinkled mess—stepped inside, reflexively scrunching up her nose at the pungent odor of tobacco and brandy.

All the sons of Phineas Nigellus, who had been weathering their father’s sputtering outbursts of contempt with quiet dignity, stood up from their seats, save the old man himself who merely lifted his head as if to hear better.

"It’s as the healer said: A girl, Archie," Lycoris said, beaming. "Red-cheeked and healthy.”

All the men in the room turned to offer their congratulations to Arcturus.

“A girl,” His father said, his eyes glimmering with an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. “You’re a father now, Archie.”

Arcturus nodded, not quite believing the fact himself. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Father grabbed hold of his hand tightly, and he flinched at the touch. “You’ll be better than I was, won’t you?”

The question took him by surprise, and for a moment he could do nothing but stare back, dumbly. Finally, he settled for another, albeit more terse nod. The rest went unspoken between the two of them—for what else was there to say?

His uncle Arcturus came up to him next, unusually jovial. “Congratulations are in order, my boy,” He sighed, then shook his head. “In a better world, that child might have been my granddaughter,” his eyes glazed over in that way they always did when he spoke of Cedrella. For all the man’s insistence he wanted nothing to do with the daughter that had run off with a blood-traitor, he did a terrible job of keeping the longing from his voice when mentioning her. “But, either way—a new Black is cause for celebration, and she’s still my blood. A word of advice, if you would, nephew?”

He leaned in closer. “Daughters are hell.” His smile turned rueful. “Cherish them while they’re with you, for you’ll miss them to your bones later on.”

Arcturus gave him a bland smile, silently noting the advice, though he was sure he’d forgotten it almost as soon as it was said. Uncle Cygnus’s congratulations—as well as grandfather’s begrudging words of commendation—too, became blurred and indistinguishable from each other. The only coherent thought in his head at the moment was the fact that there was a daughter waiting for him upstairs. His daughter.

He’d never given much thought to actually having a child. Of course, he knew what his duty was, and that one day he would be expected to further the Black line, but the idea was always rather abstract. Now—with a real child...

For the first time in his life he was at a loss.

After a few more felicitations—along with a rather loud toast from a plastered Regulus, who’d resorted to drinking away the stress of sitting next to grandfather—Arcturus made his way up to the rooms Melania had been locked away in for the last five hours.

Opening the door, he was greeted with the sight of his wife, a tightly wrapped and rather fussy bundle laid atop her chest.

Melania looked up at him in the doorway, and gave him one of those shy smiles of hers, and he froze.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

“Hello,” She whispered, voice obviously spent after five hours of screaming.

“Hi,” he said back, awkwardly balancing from one foot to another. Why on earth was he acting like some hormone-fueled fourth-year?

Warily, he approached, and as he got closer to the bed he could see a soft tuft of black hair emerge from underneath the bundle.

Melania shifted on the bed in order to allow him some room, and he sat down on the edge. He couldn’t help but think that this was the closest they’d ever been, marital duties aside.

“She looks like you,” Melania said, after some minutes had passed in silence.

Arcturus, still in shock, peeked over and saw two pairs of gray eyes identical to his looking up at him.

“She has my coloring,” He corrected her, clearing his throat, which had become rather closed up. “She has your face, however. Just as beautiful as her mother.”

Melania blushed—Arcturus had called her beautiful many times, but it always came across as a statement of fact rather than out of any affection. This time, however, his voice was tender—or as close to tender as he got.

“Have you given her a name?”

Melania shook her head. “I thought it only proper to wait for you, to see if you had a particular suggestion.”

Arcturus smiled at the typically dutiful reply, and was even moved enough to grace his young wife with a light kiss to her crown, much to her surprise.

“What was that for?” She asked, eyes darting about the damask coverlet, shyly. It occurred to him that for all she was a wife and mother now, she was still a nineteen year old, with all the flights and fancies of pureblood women her age. His own mother had given birth to him at that age—and it struck him then that in three short years he would be older than Hesper Black had ever or will ever be.

How odd it was—to outlive someone who seemed so immortal in his own memory. Odder still, thinking about death when in the presence of new life.

“I can’t repay you for all you’ve given me,” Arcturus said, voice softer than it had ever been. “I—I—I,” he cleared his throat, harshly. “There has never been a more loyal, nor more dutiful wife, madam.”

The smile she gave him this time was even bigger, and he found himself returning it.

Arcturus turned back to the girl, his girl, only to find her tiny, doll-like hands tugging fruitlessly at his sleeve. He chuckled warmly at the sight.

“My, look at her—this one will cause us some trouble.”

Melania sighed, fond exasperation writ across her face. “I can already tell.”

“Lucretia,” he said, after a moment. Melania blinked up at him. “It was my great-grandmother’s name—a rather rare name, as far as concerns our family, but hopefully the added sentimental streak will finally get the old bastard to approve of something I do.”

Melania nodded, then looked back at their daughter, beaming with pride. “Lucretia,” she said, resolutely. “Lucretia Lycoris Black.”

Arcturus snorted. “How long did it take for my sister to bully you into that one?”

Melania flushed a deep scarlet, then began mumbling feebly in defense: “It was not—she was a great help during the birth—“

Rolling his eyes, he cut her off: “Don’t get yourself into a state, we won’t be disappointing Lycoris today. Lucretia Lycoris Black. It’s perfect.”

He looked back down at his daughter, into those eyes that were all guilelessness and innocence and hope, as well as a not insignificant amount of trust. It reminded him of the way Lycoris and Regulus would look up to him during their childhood—but more.

So much more.

“She’s perfect.”

#noble and most ancient house of black #harry potter #the black sheep dog #ozymandias #arcturus black #sirius black #phineas nigellus black #regulus black #lucretia black #melania macmillan black #fanfiction

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dracosaurusrex · 3 years

Text

Scavenger Hunt

Part 6 to Notebook! Notebook Masterlist

Summary: In which Draco is torn between his morals and desires, but chooses you.

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, pero lyke I think the two need a little push? More substance? Hnnnnghhhhhhh. It’s challenging to write Draco with realism aha, but I think it’s crucial for their growth as a couple (?) IDK...but as always, feedback is lovely and I appreciate it greatly. I hope you enjoy!

A certain blonde found his thoughts often flitting to the recent memories of the time he spent with you in Hogsmeade. He remembered how he well your hand fit into his while cherishing the taste of peppermint toads. Whenever he was alone, he’d remember all those small details: the feel of your touch, the shape of your smile, the ease of holding an actual conversation, and the overall warmth that you exuded on a day that was particularly cold. His heart skipped beats upon recalling these sensations. After all, it was relieving to put down the mask he has been keeping for so long. It was relieving to allow his walls disintegrate for even a moment.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was the only born son to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and the heir to an ancient and obnoxiously wealthy line of purebloods. He was raised upon expectations for perfection. Grades, appearance, skills, status, even the people he connected with—anything less than such was a call for a reprimanding followed by a constant reminder that he mustn't fall into the wrong sort. Such perceptions were embedded in his upbringing, and with efforts to bring his parents much pride and joy, it was his intent to strive for that very definition of perfection. Up until now, his life has been built around the goal of pleasing them.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll know who you are, Draco. Remember that.” His father would tell him with a pompous and conceited tone.

The boy responds, “Yes, father.”

His childhood was a lonely one to say the least. Although he was surrounded by people his parents had approved of to be his friend, they felt more like acquaintances. Furthermore, they resembled hollow relationships founded upon networking and money rather than genuine care and trust. Perhaps that is the reason why your relationship with the golden bunch triggered him. The warmth that he felt with you can easily be seen in the way you interact with your imperfect friends, and he longed to preserve the feeling of it throughout his life.

You were of a different caliber. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was—simply put—an outsider looking into your life.

In all his honesty, Draco only knew several things about you based off observations and word of mouth. For starters you were in the rivaling house. You also weren’t as wealthy as he was. He knew that the people his parents strongly disapproved of were ones that seemed to bring you much happiness. Additionally, you never gave much priority for your status as a pureblood. Regardless of that, you somehow managed to live a vibrant and seemingly happy life. A life that highly contradicted his own. To that end, he knew deep down inside that you didn’t meet the standard of perfection set by his family. He could see his parents (mostly his father) scowl. But beyond all of the limitations the familial factors presented, your existence seemed to fill what resembled closely to a hole within his heart. He treaded over the line between securing the comfort of the reality he lived in and making the risk to realize the reality he wanted—you. His heart leaned towards the latter.

The weekend transitioned into Monday, and you still haven’t returned Draco’s notebook. While it frustrated him quite a bit, he felt butterflies over the idea of seeing you again. Class was going to start within 30 minutes, and the boy found himself seated on a tree within the courtyard, watching other students pass by. Sporadic sights of red, yellow, blue, and green crossed his line of vision until they landed on a rather large group of Gryffindors congregating near a corner. Seen among them was you.

A smile was plastered on your face as the attention of you and your friends was fixed upon George Weasely, who could be seen holding a camera. He set his device atop of a wall as he directed commands for you all to bunch closer together. After confirming the satisfaction with the placement, he clicked on the shutter and ran frantically to his place next to Fred.

“Say ‘Gryffindor’” You all responded enthusiastically. Arms were wrapped around each other's shoulders, cheeks pressed closely together, smiles all wide with glee. *snap* The scene elicited a tinge of jealousy within Draco’s heart. Before deciding to act upon his emotions, he remains planted on his tree, watching the scene continue to unfold.

“Y/N, Mione, Ginny, come over here! Let me take one of you girls.” The three of you arranged yourselves with you in between your two friends. Your arms interlaced with theirs and you gave a smile to the camera.

“Loosen up, Y/N! You look like you saw a basilisk!” Ron chimed. You threw a glare and adjusted yourself accordingly.

“That’s it! Smile now! 1, 2, 3!” The shutter went off, and you relaxed. Draco kept his gaze fixed on you separating from the two girls as you approached Ron to throw a seemingly painful jab to his shoulder. Draco chuckled from afar.

“Don’t be offended! It’s the truth!” Ron defensively rubbed his now sore arm.

“Oh, shove off Ronald!” You shared a laugh with the boy.

As your friends start to leave the site, your eyes met with the blonde, triggering a grin to spread on your face. You looked back as the group dissipated, heading to their respective classes.

“Mione, Ginny, go on without me! I forgot something, and I have to go and get it.” You called out to them. They nodded in understanding and followed the boys.

Once they were completely gone from your sight, you turned your focus back onto Draco and made your way to the tree he was in. In response, he jumped down and met you halfway with a discrete smirk.

“Didn’t know it was picture day.” He said coyly. You only rolled your eyes playfully and nodded.

“Yes, yes,” you chuckled, “It’s been a little tradition we have had since we were first years.”

There was a fond look you had on your face as you took a brief second to reminisce. Taking notice of this, the jealousy that was kindled in Draco’s chest only grew.

Without even thinking, he said, “I don’t understand why you associate yourself with the likes of them.” The rude tone in his voice offended you.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Shocked at the question, you brought your hands to your hips as an incredulous expression fixed itself on your face.

“Granger’s a mudblood. The Weasley’s are quite crummy and embarrassingly poor. Potter’s got only a scar to prove his worth in the wizarding world. I simply don’t understand why you associate yourself with people as such.” There wasn’t a single stutter in his statement. Suddenly, the adoration that you once felt was replaced with fumes of anger.

“Who are you? Moreover, what makes you think it’s right to say that!?” You looked at him disgustedly.

“I beg your pardon?” The sight of your expression pooled the feeling of regret in the depths of Draco’s stomach.

“What’s got you acting like a total git?? Seriously incredible, Malfoy! Perhaps if you gave them a chance, then you’d see why I associate myself with the ‘likes’ of them!” You said mockingly. You fished his notebook out of your bag and shoved it aggressively against his chest.

“Not everything is about status, you know?” There was venom laced in your tone, which was accompanied by a look of disappointment within the angry expression on your face.

“But, then again, status must be all that you know.” You stated coldly before turning on your heel to march briskly away from the boy. Draco only stood there dumbfounded as he saw your figure retreat from view. Not knowing how to react, he smacked his face and begrudgingly went to class. This was not how he envisioned his Monday to play out.

His mind was absent from lectures throughout the day as he contemplated your words. Although his constant berating of students from other houses didn’t normally faze him, your words caused an internal uproar and prompted him to question his actions. It was the first time he’s ever seen you react to him so blatantly. Moreover, it was the first time he felt so ashamed of his values. Knowing that the girl he fancied saw him in an ill light made him feel sick to the stomach.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you who you are.” His father’s words echoed ever so clearly within his mind as Draco continued to think about you. The boy felt like he stood at a crossroad upon recalling your exact words. Uncertainty and instability filled the borders of his belief system, situating himself between the tug-o-war of his heart and mind. However, what hadn’t changed was his ardent desire to feel the warmth again. Therefore, as he situated himself in his shamefulness, he thought of ways to gain your familiarity once more.

Meanwhile, as the day trudged on, your thoughts distracted you from focusing on your studies, and you found yourself filled with an odd mixture of emotions. It initially comprised anger and frustration, but soon transformed into disappointment the more your mind lingered on the subject. Your internal turmoil had projected itself in the form of your oddly quiet nature, catching Hermione’s attention. While you were able to conceal your feelings for the young heir, the girl was always still pretty perceptive with your body language, so it wasn’t difficult for her to notice when you acted so distant throughout the day. She began suspecting you when she saw you doodling on your parchment instead of taking actual notes during transfiguration. Not wanting to assume so much, she continued to observe you. Her assumptions, however, were confirmed during dinner. You typically feasted excitedly whenever pasta and cookies were served, but as the others continued to pile their plates, your usually bubbly aura remained absent.

“Y/N” she called out to you. You looked up from the sad pile of noodles on your dish.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” The concern that was conveyed in her voice broke your walls. You weren’t sure what it was about Hermione, but she always seemed to have a nurturing and motherly character. You were very thankful for it.

“I’m not actually,” you said softly, not wanting to gain the attention of others, “Can I confide in you?” Your eyes searched hers with desperation for a solution. Noticing this, she motioned her head towards the entrance of the hall and picked up her plate to make her way there. You copied her actions without looking at your group of friends. Fortunately, though, they didn’t seem to notice. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself with your issues.

As you exited the room, your eyes met briefly with Draco’s as his vision followed your movement. You didn’t know how to react, so you kept to yourself and kept on walking. You and Hermione found yourselves situated on a bench in the same courtyard where your clash with the boy had occurred. The moon was shining above you, as the lights from the illuminated hallway framed the scene’s serenity with comfort and familiarity. You held your plate on your lap as you twirled your fork to pick up some of the pasta.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” The girl asked.

You started off slowly, “I have a question- a hypothetical one.”

“Go on.”

“Let’s say you like someone, and he’s entirely different from you. You don’t know him much, but he makes you feel good. He treats you well, and you want to know him more. When you get to spend time with him, those feelings only get amplified, and it feels perfect.” You take a break to examine her reaction so far. She only urged you to go on.

You continue, “But it starts to crumble when he says something insensitive about something you care about. Of course, you get mad. Who would ever say such a thing? Right?” She nods in agreement.

“But what if you still want to like him despite the disappointment and frustration? What would you do?” Hermione’s eyebrows were furrowed as she allowed herself to contemplate on the situation you described.

“I suppose there should be a reason for his opinion. Hmm...If he truly cared, then ideally, he would talk to you. There might not be any excuse for his actions, but if he makes the effort to talk to you, then I feel that would show that he considers your feelings. How you respond is totally up to you, but on your end, I say that you should allow him to speak and listen.”

“Even if he was a total arse?”

“Speaking from a logical standpoint, you’d be a total idiot to accept an arse. However, disappointment and mistakes are bound to happen when getting to know someone. You might as well allow the person to show himself without your expectations pinned on him. You might be surprised with what may result from it.”

“What if it’s not good?”

“Don’t hesitate to walk away. You are deserving of much more than an ignorant git.”

You were grateful that Hermione didn’t press forward to ask about the identity of this person. Furthermore, her words imprinted themselves in your mind as the week went on. It made you feel a bit better, but Draco made no approach to you ever since that night, leaving you with a bitter taste of discouragement. Despite that, you found pride in keeping your emotions at bay, deciding to focus more on your schoolwork instead of allowing your mind to wander far. Friday had come along, which meant that you found yourself in the library once again. You recalled the week prior, and how your level of attraction towards the boy skyrocketed in the span of two days. It was in this very building that sparked your attraction, but you began to falter on the thought that it would become something more.

You sat at the same desk you did last week. Papers scattered all over once again. This time it was study of ancient runes, a class that you did well in. A good hour was put into translating runes to English, however the passage was so extensive that the process felt like ages. Feeling as though your head was about to explode, you laid your head down over the mounds of work hoping to close your eyes for a bit. Your moment of peace was interrupted upon the sound of an unknown object landing in the space in front of you. As you lifted your head, your sight was drawn to the presence of a paper crane. Written on its wing says, “Open it”. You follow the instruction with pure curiosity. Within the folds of the paper is another command: “Meet me at the reference section, vanishing charms.” You wearily look around to find any clue who the sender of the crane might be. Without a single sense of danger, you stood up from your seat, not bothering to tidy up your things, and navigated your way to the reference section.

Your fingers trailed through spines of familiar books as you recalled the first assignment you and Draco had worked on. A rosy feeling spread across your chest as you remembered how unusual his affections contrasted with his typical cold and insensitive demeanor. Could he be the sender? Why else would anyone guide you to the vanishing charm section in the library?

Soon, your fingers crossed over a foreign sensation, which broke you out of your thoughts. Your gaze was then set upon a piece of folded paper tucked so carefully between the spines. You pulled it out gingerly, admiring the precision of the creases before opening it. The next message elicited a smile from you:

“I was never good with expressing feelings. I still find it pathetic and have denied the ones I’ve had for you so long. Much to my annoyance, though, I find it pleasurable reminiscing the scene that took place in this remote little spot.” Your eyes trailed to the bottom of the page.

“Do you remember where we sat to work on the essay?” Your heart was bounding as the context of the messages confirmed the identity of the owner. Much like your first interaction with him, you didn’t know what to expect. That, however, did not stop you from walking towards the table situated beneath the window that casted rays of light from the setting sun. You began your search for the next note. The surface of the table was empty, chairs were tucked in neatly—it didn’t seem as though anyone had crossed this area.

‘What would Draco do?’ You thought. You recalled qualities that you were familiar with. He was pretty witty. At times he was annoyingly rude as well. He comes from a wealthy family with corrupt ideals. Regardless, the warmth that he had shown you had no tone of ill intent behind it. In fact, its very existence, in contrast to what others saw, illustrated an image of the boy being surrounded by walls within your mind. You then concluded that if you were Draco, you would be cautious about displaying affection. Keeping this in mind, you thought of areas that could be discrete enough to hide a note. Your hand reached towards the underside of the table and skimmed through its rough texture, hoping to find any abnormalities. Suddenly, a wave of satisfaction overcame you as your finger pads were met with a contrasting smooth surface. As you did before, you carefully plucked the new paper crane as your excitement continued to grow. The words “Almost there” was written across the wing. You opened the note and there was, yet again, another message:

“Y/N, truth be told, I’m quite taken by you—Your beauty, your warmth, the comfort you bring, your shyness when you say my name, the way you look when you’re so focused as you work, even the way you interact and defend your other Gryffindor friends,”

“I’ve made a mistake that Monday morning, yet the time spent away from you makes no difference in the way your presence occupies my mind. I fail at the very act of shoving you away. I see glimpses of you in smallest and largest parts of my day. Meet me at your desk?”

Written on the bottom of the note was a signature: “Draco Lucius Malfoy”

While peace filled you, there was still a feeling of uncertainty. You were overjoyed by the fact that Draco had feelings for you, but there was no denying that a relationship with him would be difficult. The boy carried a lot of baggage, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. However, with a brave face, you walked towards the area where you had started your little adventure.

As you drew near, there was a familiar blonde figure seated at your desk. His facial features filled with admiration as his fingers stroked your work, fingers flipping through the loose pages of parchment. You giggled to yourself, recalling the way you had done the same just a week prior.

You came up from behind him and whispered in his ear, “Hello, Draco Lucius.”

His heart almost beat out of his chest at the sound of his name rolling so fluidly through your mouth. You pulled out the seat next to him and gave him a sad smile, his eyes not leaving yours for a moment. There was silence. Both parties were at a loss for words to say, and so you remain seated without a sound, allowing the comfort to trickle in.

It had been five minutes since you arrived, and Draco kept his head down low as his stare stuck to your knees. He, then, hesitantly looks up at you, and with a soft voice, he asks, “May I?” You meet his gaze before his eyes flutter to your hands. Instead of giving a response, you grab his hand and interlace your fingers with his, your other hand covering the one that’s already clasped. You immediately take notice how large his hand feels as it’s wrapped within your own. Silence overcomes you once again as your thumb rubs the surface of his own. It was a sensation both had missed

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of his mouth suddenly. You look up to see that he’s already staring at you.

He repeats himself, “I’m sorry.”

The silvery eyes that were once filled with arrogance and pride were now desperately searching yours with regret. If they could speak, they’d be screaming right now. You squeezed his hand harder before unfolding it only to hold it once more, except this time you were tracing the lines engrained on his palm.

“May you explain to me why you said those things?” You asked gently.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” He responds, his tone expressing a tinge of vulnerability. You give a nod of understanding before reaching over the table to gather your belongings. You hadn’t noticed how fast your heart had been beating until this point. All of your affectionate gestures came naturally within the moment that when you released his hand from your grasp, your emotions caught up to you.

You take a look at him and notice subtle things. You notice the way he towers over you, the way his body is angled in your direction, leaning towards you with a possessive stance. You notice the way his hands hang loosely on his sides and how he keeps his gaze on you with an expression that you can’t quite describe. His breathing is even but he looks at you with much intensity.

“Draco,” You call out. His attention goes to your face. Allowing your need for affection to overtake you once more, you take his hand once again and look in his eyes—they looked much relaxed now. You release a small a smile before standing on your tip toes to plant a long and affectionate kiss on his cheek. His grip on your hand had tightened in response.

Your lips ghost over his ear, “Lead the way.”

A/N: Idek. I hope you have a great day tho!

Taglist: @m-winchester-67 @bbeauttyybbx @un-limit-edd @poetontheblock @tttyrus @stretchyice @vaeonshi @bittersweetthoughts–ofinsanity @saptediavoli @kookie-vuitton @thatguppienamedbae @ccabian

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x gryffindor #Draco Malfoy x OC #draco x you #draco x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin #Gryffindor

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mumufic · 3 years

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My ranty Author Notes to address questions on my Three Sisters fic

So, I feel like I should put up some notes on a number of recurring questions I get in the comments, for those who don’t really read my responses (because I do provide some detailed explanations for why certain things are happening in my fic, but I get it if sloughing through comments for insight isn’t your thing; it isn’t mine either, hence the A/N.)

Why is Lily so stupid / obtuse / blind about Snape? Let’s level-set a couple of things: A) Lily is about as Gryffindor as they come, and some of the more common character flaws of people who belong to that house is that they rather tend to think a lot less of situations before diving in. That’s the case for Lily in this fic. Snape was her first magical friend that she’d ever met. She cherishes that friendship because she knows it’s returned even though she might not agree with a lot of Snape’s beliefs, not to mention Snape was the first person who told her that all the strange things that have been happening to her was the result of her being magical. For a child feeling the otherness of her abilities so keenly around her perfectly normal, muggle working class family, that is a huge thing. For the first time, Lily thought she’d met someone who understood her and the things she could do, and for that to have happened to her as a child, the person who validates that part of her being is going to play a very central role in her life until she reaches a breaking point. In the books, that breaking point was when Snape’s bigotry included her. For the longest time, he’d always excluded her from his hateful rhetoric, and there’s passages in the books that support that. B) Lily is a kid. She’s 11, and she probably met Snape at a much younger age (I’m guessing around 8 or 9) Kids who value their friends can sometimes be stupidly loyal to them even when their friends are behaving badly. Why do you think peer pressure is such a huge thing among young people? It’s partly because they value the person who is their friend to the point of being foolhardy over said friend’s bad actions. C) A lot of Snape’s bigotry goes over Lily’s head, because she’s never been taught to find differences between magical and non-magical people. Her parents obviously love her and Petunia the same and for her, that means they’re no different. She doesn’t understand the superiority Snape feels over Petunia, and because she doesn’t understand it, and also because she’s just a stupid kid who doesn’t really know better or even understands the slurs that come out of Snape’s mouth, she doesn’t think too much of it. Notice that Lily actually does call him out when he’s being mean to Petunia in ways that she can understand, when Snape tells Petunia that he had no place being in Platform 9 3/4 for example. But then Snape follows it up with reasoning that seems to be perfectly sound - Platform 9 3/4 is a magical location; it might not be the best place for Petunia to be. As for the spoon encounter, Lily had some basic understanding of accidental magic, thanks to Holly, and mostly chocked up that unfortunate event to Snape’s accidental magic rearing up from Petunia’s mean-spirited taunting. Petunia isn’t innocent in that scene, if you go back to it and think critically on it, look at it in the eyes of a normal rational adult. She’s just presented as being sympathetic because the narration is from Holly’s POV, and Holly likes this Petunia and hates Snape absolutely. Lastly, pretty much everything I have on Snape during the Summer with the Evanses part of this story have a basis in canon. He was hateful to Petunia, but Lily constantly made excuses for him, thinking that he’s just mean in general because of his difficult family life. The same goes when they get to Hogwarts. Snape spouts the same bigoted things the Slytherin Purebloods say, and Lily makes excuses for him. That’s canon. Lily made excuses for Snape’s behavior to her sister and her friends (especially Mary, who was canonically muggleborn) until she found she couldn’t anymore because his hatefulness suddenly spilled over to include her. Does that make Lily stupid? Probably, yes. Does it make her human? Fucking hell yes, and anyone who thinks that they won’t behave that way have clearly never figured out conflicted love-hate relationships with toxic people, so good for you, but these things happen to others, and it shouldn’t be surprising. There’s a basis for this in reality, and there’s a basis for Lily’s blind loyalty to Snape in canon. And barring all of that if you don’t agree, it’s my fic, and I choose to write her this way. If that makes her a stupid character and you think I’m assassinating Lily’s characterization from canon, your interpretation is valid, but so is my right to write what I want as long as I’m not making a cent off of this. Thanks.

Why is Sirius spouting the bigotry he vehemently disavowed in OoTP? And why did he call Holly a mudblood? I don’t know about you, but I think Sirius had to have been an extremely sheltered child, growing up in a magical house surrounded on all sides by a muggle neighborhood. I think he started questioning why he wasn’t allowed to play with other children whom he could probably see from his bedroom window, but he didn’t actually know how and why he needed to reason it out with his parents until he met people who taught him how to articulate the feelings he had over his parents’ bigotry against muggles and muggleborns. As for why he called Holly a mudblood, again, has a lot to do with the normalization of hate in the household he grew up in. Walburga and Orion Black taught their children to hate anything and anyone that didn’t subscribe to the same Pureblood rhetoric as they did. And since Sirius thought Holly lived with the Evanses, who were muggle, and not with the Potters who were Purebloods, he didn’t see a distinction for her blood status from Mary or Lily, who were actually muggleborn. Hell, I don’t even think Sirius understood blood status all that well at all as an 11-year-old. He was just repeating shit he heard his parents say because he didn’t know any better. I’m not going to tell you how to interpret your reading of my fic, but generally, I wouldn’t ascribe knowledge that I know of characters and events to the characters within the story, because they can’t be expected to know and understand what I know and understand, especially in a fic written in such a limited POV, and things like Holly’s blood status, would not be known to Sirius because Holly had never actually told James or him about her parents, other than that they were Potters. And while you can make a case for the fact that Holly told Sirius and Regulus in Chapter 7 that she’s not muggleborn, I still stand by the idea that the Black exclusionist ideas that Walburga and Orion taught their children would still have Sirius identifying her as one simply because of where he thinks she grew up in.

Why is Holly so stupidly letting so many details from her timeline out to her friends? I think we should all cut Holly some slack for spilling so many details about her life to Lily and Petunia. She’s an orphan who’ finally met the girl who would be her mother. She can’t shut up about her life because OMG my MUM! I finally got to meet her! On top of that, up until the point where Holly met Fleamont Potter, the last time Holly had been warned about meddling with time had been when she was in third year, and it was rushed and the warning hadn’t even been made to her; it had been McGonagall warning Hermione and Hermione repeating the same information to her. So the meddling about time? Holly didn’t exactly give a shit. Lastly, we have so many references in canon of Harry Potter being an exceptionally impulsive little blockhead to the point where he constantly gets himself into trouble. Running after the Philosopher’s Stone in PS, continuing on to fight the basilisk and look for Ginny while Ron tries to get help in CoS, haring off to the Ministry in OoTP, Sectumsempra in HBP, uttering Voldemort’s name and getting them caught by Snatchers in DH… the list is actually pretty damn long. So why should it not be a character flaw for Holly in this fic to be stupidly impulsive in the information she gives out to a person she thinks is her mother, one she’s loved and idolized and put on a pedestal all her life? Why shouldn’t she spout similarly incriminating information to a boy she knows would be her godfather, whom she trusted and loved up until he got killed? It’s a character flaw, yes, and I’m not here to write perfect characters, because perfect characters who only do the right and intelligent thing make for a dry, boring read. If you weren’t about annoying flaws like this, then you’re welcome to click off my fic and find some other story where Harry is the perfect godsent angel come to save us all. That’s not what this story is about.

Why aren’t you patching up any of these inconsistencies that multiple people have already pointed out? Some of them, because that is how I want to write the characters in my story. Some of them, because there will be points in the future where these things are addressed and resolved. And yet still some of them because I don’t want to. Yes, even the stupid ones that really don’t make sense and should probably be changed. I don’t want to go back and change them. That’s how I am as a fic writer, and last I checked, this is still my fanfic.

Want to have a say in how I’m planning the characterization and plotting out? I’m still looking for a beta who I’d like to be able to help me with things like plot inconsistencies, annoying characterization (ok, shut up about Lily already. I didn’t make her this stupid; JKR did when she wrote Lily insisting on her friendship with Snape all the way up to fifth year!), and just generally talk about how and where I intend for the story to go.

If you’d like to beta for me, hit me up on my main Tumblr, @mumuinc or DM me on Discord; my profile is mumuinc#7662.

#fanfic writing #the three sisters #my writing

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ineedglasses · 4 years

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VK Character Analysis: Shizuka Hiou

Once in high school, an old friend who also read VK asked me who my favorite character was, and when I said Shizuka, she was shocked. Now her favorite was Zero, and she thought I hated Zero since I liked Shizuka, his enemy.

That is not true, I don’t hate Zero. For some reason, some Zero fans seem to think anyone that likes Shizuka hates Zero. There is NO correlation between liking Shizuka and hating Zero. Some people love them both, while some people hate them both.

Anyway, my friend seemed appalled when I told her my fav character and she asked me why. At that age I wasn’t the most articulate or the most patient, so I simply told her, “just because.” So, now that I have free time and because her question had bothered me for a while, I decided I should write down my thoughts on why I love Shizuka.

XXX

First of all, Shizuka was NOT actually insane.

Medically speaking, “insanity” is associated with conditions like bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. There is no indication in the manga or anime that she exhibited any signs or symptoms of those diseases, such as hallucinations or delusions.

The regular definition of insane is to exhibit a severely disordered state of mind or to be affected with mental illness. Even by this definition, Shizuka was not insane.

She was aware of her actions and of what is right and what is wrong. The only time she can be considered “insane” is right after her lover was killed, when she was so overcome by grief and anger she could not think straight and focused on revenge without stopping to think who the real enemy was (cough, Rido). And in that state of severe emotional turmoil she went after the Kiryuus. But I do not think that can be considered true insanity, because it was a onetime occurrence.

Shizuka knows that she was wrong to kill the Kiryuus, because they were simply following orders and doing their job, and also because the real mastermind behind her lover’s death was Rido. She even acknowledges that her actions in regard to the Kiryuu parents and Zero were “sinful”, whereas a truly crazy person probably is unable or unwilling to admit that. If anyone were actually insane in VK, it would probably be Rido.

XXX

Secondly, she did NOT attack the Kiryuus out of a random whim or desire to do evil things.

All readers should already know this, since Hino explicitly states that Shizuka was motivated by revenge. Shizuka ONLY went after the Kiryuus because they wronged her first.

They killed her ex-human, the only person she ever loved. Hunters are only supposed to kill crazed level E’s and vampires that have harmed humans, but her lover was none of that. He should not have been killed by those standards.

But the Kiryuus were simply following orders without question, and killed someone they shouldn’t have, and thus they were killed in return.

For hunters, being killed by vampires seeking revenge is not a shocking end. Even Zero’s mom mentioned that, when they were packing, saying they should move soon so vampires do not find out where they lived. People who kill tend to get killed too, that’s just the reality of that sort of life. Zero’s parents were not normal, innocent civilians, they were people that killed vampires for a living. Thus, I don’t think Shizuka killing them is so shocking and unforgivable. I can understand why she attacked the Kiryuus, although it is still wrong (because hate breeds more hate, and the idea of an eye for an eye is not good).

What was truly unforgivable was that Shizuka turned Zero into a vampire, to hurt his parents as much as she can. This is where she went too far in her vengeance because children are innocent, it was only the parents that should be punished. And yes, I acknowledge that these actions are bad, even if I am her fan, I am not blind to her flaws.

Anyway, Shizuka would never have bothered crossing paths with the Kiryuus if they had never killed her lover.

XXX

Thirdly, although she was an antagonist in the story, she had her own moral code. She was not evil, and rather more of a neutral grey, and I appreciate characters like that.

She wasn’t like Rido, who used even his own son as a tool, and who did not care for anyone. Shizuka cared for Ichiru, despite the fact that he was her enemy’s son. She felt a sort of kinship with him because they were both alone and had nowhere to go. She gave him her own blood and flesh and refused to turn him the whole time they were together, even when she was dying, because she knew he would have been in more danger if he was a vampire instead.

Ichiru understood that she genuinely cared for him, because even when he was dying, he asked Zero to not hate her, even if Zero can’t forgive her.

Shizuka also kept her promise to Maria and gave the sickly girl her blood to make her better (in comparison, Rido just took over Senri’s body without asking for permission or giving him anything in return).

And thus Shizuka is a sympathetic villain, and Hino points that out in the interlude chapter where Ichiru comments how Shizuka was “beautiful even as she was dying”, in contrast to Rido, who Kaname once referred to as “the dregs of an ugly obsession.”

Even Kaname felt sympathy for her, because when he killed her, he didn’t just let her drop to the floor but caught her and laid her down carefully on the floor. He also assured her that he would not let her life be wasted, and that he would definitely end Rido.

XXX

And finally, she was a very tragic character, a victim of circumstances herself.

(This is her history, taken straight from her character profile in the official fan guide)

Shizuka was locked up in a cage as soon as she was born, because apparently some members of the Hio clan had also gone berserk before.

(On a side note, I doubt the Hious had a genetic defect leading to mental illness, it was probably a circumstantial thing, like how Rido most likely started off sane but life took directions that pushed him off the edge towards the end. After all, they are purebloods and their genes are supposed to be flawless. And Rido…I have so many thoughts about that dude, but I will save them for another post.)

Hino never stated how old Shizuka was, but since we know that Rido, Haruka, and Juri are “over 3000” according to the guidebook, she is probably around that age. If we treat the Fleeting Dreams novel as canon, then Shizuka is probably even younger than Juri, because Rido mentions that Shizuka was still “a tiny child” when his parents kept Juri away from him and engaged him to Shizuka instead. So, I assume that Shizuka spent almost 3000 years, her whole life, locked up in a cage with barely any company, except maybe the occasional visitor (like how child Kaname visited her once).

3000 years is a long, long time. To put it into perspective, the USA as a country is roughly 250 years old. So she was locked in a cage, all by herself for the timespan it would take 12 USAs to rise and fall. It is really a wonder how she did not actually go crazy and end up more damaged than she was!

Besides the tragedy of having her freedom taken away, no one loved or cared about her, something mentioned by both Maria and the guidebook. Shizuka herself commented that she was envious of Yuki, who had been cherished, unlike her.

(A bit of a tangent, but I am quite curious what happened to Shizuka’s parents. Why did they just let her be locked up? It is very irresponsible to bring a child into the world if you aren’t going to bother taking care of it. And it seemed she had family members because Kaname later on killed the head of the Hio clan. IDK what her familial relationship with that particular Hio man was, but she seemed to have been neglected by her own clan.)

Anyway, everyone probably treated her warily, like a bomb that might explode at any time. She was basically an outcast. Take for example how Aidou says it is unlucky to even mention her.

If there was someone besides her dead lover, Ichiru, and Maria, who did not treat her with suspicion or fear, it was probably Rido, and he certainly did not treat her well either. Ichiru mentions that Rido was the one who imprisoned her and changed the hunter list. Based on that, I assume Rido directly ordered her locked up, or used his influence with the Senate to have them lock her up. Either way, the dude had something to do with it.

Besides locking her up, Rido most likely treated her poorly, him being the way he is. His main issue with her is that she refused to become obedient like Senri’s mom. And IDK about the rest of you, but whenever a man says he wants to make a woman “obedient”, I get bad vibes. He probably did some shady and questionable things in his attempts to make her docile.

If Shizuka had been engaged to someone else other than Rido, someone more normal, like Isaya, her life would probably have been more bearable. Although Rido did not want her because he was unhealthily obsessed with Juri, he had to ruin Shizuka’s life and happiness instead of just letting her be. He did that out of some petty reasoning, basically “If I can’t be happy, you can’t be happy either”. His decision to put her lover on the execution list led to many tragedies.

This man is really the root of all evil in VK, LOL.

XXX

Finally, after all those centuries of loneliness, Shizuka met someone who treated her well, for the first time. Thus, her attachment to her ex-human lover was extremely strong, and it made sense why she could not move on, why she was so consumed by revenge. Unlike normal people who can find solace being comforted by friends and family, she doesn’t have that kind of support. And furthermore, she is a pureblood, all of whom have been shown to form extremely strong attachments to the ones they love, and have trouble moving on.

And regarding her lover, we can’t even be sure if he loved her back. Shizuka said that he most likely never forgave her until the end for turning him, and that he never yielded to her, but went with her when she proposed running away together because remaining with her was his only option. Honestly, her lover didn’t seem too happy being with her, or if he did care for her, their relationship was still strained and angsty, not the simple, lovey-dovey relationship Haruka and Juri had.

Overall, her romance was ill-fated, they simply would have never worked out because they were supposed to be predator and prey. I have a feeling that even if the Kiryuus hadn’t been assigned to kill him, she and her ex-human would not have had a happy ending regardless.

Anyway, after Shizuka lost him, she also lost her will to live. She only hung on to life out of the desire to kill Rido, but she wasn’t even seriously trying. Her biggest desire was to die, and we can see that in how she didn’t bother resisting when Kaname killed her. When she laid on the floor dying, she looked the most peaceful she had ever been. Later on, Maria (mistakenly thinking it was Zero who killed her) also commented that Shizuka probably wanted Zero to kill her. Sara also said Shizuka lost her will to live and mentioned how she doesn’t want to become like her.

Finally, Shizuka was definitely tragic, because even Kaname who killed her pitied her, commenting: “It’s sad isn’t it? I wonder if anyone truly understood her.”

I love this character partly because I feel so bad for her. While Zero suffered early on, he eventually got to marry the girl he loved and had a daughter with her. Kaname also got to be with Yuki, had a daughter with her and got to meet both daughters and experience being with family when he was revived. But Shizuka…her whole life was a tragedy, and the only time she was happy was that brief period when she was with her lover. However, the time she spend with him was a tiny drop, almost nothing compared to how long her life was overall.

A lot of characters in VK had sadness in their lives, but her life struck me as the worst. If I had to pick someone to be in VK, it would definitely not be her.

IMO, her life was screwed the moment she got engaged to Rido. Even though she wasn’t crazy, she was still locked up and treated like she was. Her circumstances/fate pushed her to make the choices she did and end up a villain. If fate had been kinder to her, she would not have become a villain at all.

Other reasons I love her are because of how beautiful and elegant she is, how she has an air of mystery and sadness, and how her story just interested me the most.

And I get that other people still hate/dislike her regardless of everything I mentioned, and that is alright. This is not meant to convince people to like her, but to explain why I personally love her. So don’t come at me trying to tell me why she is evil and I should be ashamed for liking her okay? (ง'̀-'́)ง

So! If you ever read this long post, Hazel, now you know why she is my favorite character.ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ

#Vampire Knight #Shizuka Hio #shizuka hiou #zero kiryu #Kaname Kuran #Rido Kuran

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