#would be FURIOUS at ginny

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think about Molly Weasley?

I have a lot of thoughts about Molly Weasley. I think she’s a fantastic character,  just not in the way that JKR intended. 

I think the intention was to make Molly kind of a mama bear. Fiercely loving, fiercely protective, hot tempered… but you know. In a cute way. In a warm way. I do think that Movie!Molly threads this needle. (I also think that her bear-ears hairstyle is perhaps intentional.) 

Movie!Molly gets her big duel with Bellatrix, she gets (reasonably) annoyed at the boys for stealing the car. Her only spicy moment is the Howler… which is softened and made more comedic by 1) including a nice message for Ginny at the end 2) including a tongue-sticking-out moment, which turns the whole thing into more of a joke on Molly. Now it’s your mom being kind of weird and embarrassing… versus her public shaming you, toxic tik-tok mom style. The Howler is much worse in the book: “​​I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS.”

So let’s talk Book!Molly, because there’s a lot there. She’s a Prewett, growing up in a more *typical* pure blood family as opposed to being a “blood traitor” Weasley. (Cedrella Black was disowned for marrying a Weasley, Lucretia Black married a Prewett no problem.)  Molly also married Arthur really young, and really quickly. It’s even lightly implied they married too quickly - 

“I just think [Bill and Fleur] have hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”  “They’ve known each other a year,” said Ron (...)   “Well, that’s not very long! I know why it’s happened, of course. It’s all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of decisions they’d normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center —”  “Including you and Dad,” said Ginny slyly.  “Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting?” said Mrs. Weasley.

There’s some psychological truth to that. (Also, Molly and Arthur were 100% hooking up while at Hogwarts:)

“[The Fat Lady] was here in my time,” said Mrs. Weasley. “She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning —”  “What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?” said Bill, surveying his mother with amazement. Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling.  “Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” she said.

And the timeline’s too fuzzy to know for sure…  but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Molly getting pregnant with Bill was one of the reasons she and Arthur got married so fast. 

It’s hard to say, because you never get a great sense of their relationship, but I’m actually not sure how compatible the two of them are, or if they would have gotten married at all if it hadn't been for the war and all these external factors. There is an ongoing conflict between them: Arthur is a political radical who seems to enjoy upsetting the Malfoys - he’s not playing nice, he doesn't have a prestigious job, he’s not getting a promotion anytime soon, and he’s fine with this. His interest in muggles is fringe counterculture stuff, and his hobby is illegal. And Molly… is pretty establishment. She wants her sons to be Head Boys and Prefects, and then she wants them to get jobs at the Ministry:

“Mum went mad at [Fred and George after finding their prank candy.] Told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms. . . . She’s furious at them anyway. They didn’t get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.” “And then there was this big row,” Ginny said, “because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop.”

Like we hear about this interaction secondhand, which softens the emotion, but I’m sorry? Molly burned their order forms? She wants them to do jobs they very clearly have no aptitude for, instead of being entrepreneurs? Arthur sides with the twins, and of course he does. They’re anarchists just like he is. But it *really* bothers Molly, and this conflict just keeps coming up. 

[sidenote. You cannot tell that Arthur Weasley, once he was in his late 20s/early 30s, once he had grown into himself a bit. Tell me that this man didn’t once think “you know, I really should have married a Muggle. That would’ve been perfect.”’]

But back to Molly Weasley, nee Prewett. She wants a big family, and there is no way this doesn't have something to do with the fact that both her brothers were just brutally killed. She’s trying to distract herself, fill some void, find some meaning. The fact that it doesn’t work (because how could it, she’s got just buckets of unprocessed trauma) is maybe why she is so set on having a girl. Maybe a little baby girl is what she needs. 

In the main timeline of the book, Molly 100% needs enrichment. She needs to start breeding alpacas or join a book club or get a job. (Job could be cool, especially since she has no kids at home and money is an issue.) Like come on, Molly is intense, Type A, and powerful. Possibly one of the best duelists in the entire series. She takes out Voldemort’s number two, and Bellatrix has already defeated Sirius - incredibly talented and powerful in his own right. I do think that the reason JKR made this choice (instead of letting Neville have a confrontation with Bellatrix, which would have been more narratively straightforward) is because (whether consciously or unconsciously) she doesn’t like the idea of one of her good-guy GUY characters hurting a woman. So Molly defeats Bellatrix with magic mom powers, which is the same reason Narcissia can lie to Voldemort’s face I guess.

What Molly definitely does NOT need to be doing is obsessing about her kids' significant others. Like take Fleur. (Who I think we as readers were meant to dislike more than we actually did?)  Fleur is great. So when Molly has a problem with her… then starts trying to matchmake Bill with Tonks… until Tonks (another fan favorite) also starts annoying her… it makes Molly looks really unreasonable. Also, let Bill have his long hair and earring. 

She gets weird about Hermione in Book 4, after she believes Rita Skeeter’s write-up that she's some sort of temptress playing Harry and Krum off each other. Instead of, idk, asking Harry (who she thinks of as a surrogate son) she sends Hermione a passive-agressive comically undersized chocolate egg. Harry and Ron get huge ones. That’s not cute, or funny.

Also, Percy and Penelope Clearwater. I know the real-world reason Percy hides his relationship in Book 2 is so he can be a red herring acting all suspicious… but in universe, I guess Percy just wants to date someone without his mom being weird about it? Like Penelope Clearwater is nice and normal and fine. Why is he hiding this relationship?

Then there’s Molly the disciplinarian, which we mostly see in the context of Fred and George (although there is also Ron being public-shamed by the Howler.) She is constantly giving the twins a hard time about their life choices, their jokes. Ron says “I remember Mum walloping Fred with her broomstick." Then yeah, she burns their order forms. She does feel bad about this later, and after the whole thing at the Quidditch World Cup hugs them and says, “What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn’t get enough O.W.L.s?” It’s meant to be a sweet moment, but this would annoy me just a little. It’s a little like saying, “I’m glad I don’t have to think of myself as being a bad mother.” 

I also want to point out Molly's pretty clear favoritism. Fred and George are the problem children, Ginny is the baby (although we almost never see her and her mother interact, so it’s actually very hard to say what their relationship is like), and Percy is the golden child. We see how this sort of sets him apart from all his siblings, how he's described as pompous and full of himself, but also how he’s secretive and hides things from his family. It’s kind of precarious being the golden child, and when he finally does stop pleasing his mother he falls hard. (Although I will always be a big believer in Daddy Issues!Percy. That has to be why he commits that hard to Barty Crouch Sr that fast, and then ignores that many red flags.) 

And of course Ron is the invisible child. Almost the first thing we hear him say is, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.” That one can slide. Molly’s got five kids at home, she made corn beef sandwiches, not everyone is going to be equally happy. But Ron’s clothes.  Molly makes her own clothes, she's defined by her facility with household magic. She knits Ron sweaters... but at least two of them are maroon despite the fact that Ron hates maroon. His room is  plastered top to bottom in bright orange Chudley Cannons merch. She couldn’t make him an orange sweater? There’s also the issue with the dress robes. Ron clearly doesn’t like them (“Mum, you’ve given me Ginny’s new dress.”) But he is the one who cuts off the lace trim later, and he doesn’t do an amazing job. I know that it's a joke, but like. That sounds like a job for Molly.

We do get Horcrux!Hermione telling Ron that he is the “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter,” so this idea of Molly picking favorites is *kind of* in the text. But Horcrux!Hermione is wrong about Harry/Hermione being a thing, so maybe we’re meant to read this as Ron’s baseless anxiety? It doesn’t feel like that though. What it actually feels like is an unresolved plot thread. 

So here’s my take on Molly Weasley. This is someone who is pretty high-powered, who suffered a period of emotional upheaval, then got married and started having kids because she kind of thought that was what you do - and it wasn’t as fulfilling as she thought it would be. I think a lot of her comments come off as *meaner* than JKR intended, because let’s face it - JKR has a kind of mean sense of humor. And if I want to speculate further… I think there are quite a few parallels between Molly Weasley and JKR. I don't think she put them there consciously.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

What about Charlie x reader:

“I can’t believe you did something that stupid!”

“I was only reckless because it was about you.”

Please? And thank you!

yes, I love this! 🥰 and thank you, @mycobrakai1972 and @captainlunaxmen for your help, loves! 😁 also this is set on the World Cup Warnings: reader gets hurt

"Mate, that was awesome!" George said, excitedly.

"I know! Did you see her? It was out of this world!" Fred added.

"You've got to teach us how to do that!" George begged.

"Yeah, you should come teach DADA at Hogwarts this year" Fred chuckled.

"Thanks, guys, but I think I'll pass" you smiled at them and then turned to look at Ginny. She had been extremely quiet since you came back. "You okay, Gin?" you asked sweetly and she simply nodded as Bill, and Percy got to her and Charlie sat in front of you with his wand and what he could find to clean you up.

"C'mon, guys" Bill said, nodding his head to the other side of the tent so they could give you some privacy.

"Stay still" Charlie said sternly. He first started fixing your arm and bandaging it with some loose rags he could find since it was bleeding just as badly as Bill's. Once he was done, he moved over to your face, cleaning your scratches and cuts.

"Would you please look at me?" you asked timidly. He was trying his best not to make eye contact with you. You knew he was furious. He took a deep breath and then finally faced you.

"I told you to stay back" he said.

"I did-"

"No, you didn't!" he snapped, raising his voice a little, making his brothers turn around and look at the two of you. "You were supposed to stay with them until we got back-!"

"And I did!" you challenged. "They were already safe! I told them to stay and hide there and I was going to look for Ron, Hermione, and Harry but before I could, we saw you!"

"You should have still stayed with them!" he insisted. “I can’t believe you did something that stupid!”

“I was only reckless because it was about you!” you yelled, with a few tears streaming down your face. "You were outnumbered, Charlie! They could have-" you stopped yourself, unable to say it. You looked back at Ginny who was also now crying and Bill was trying to comfort her. "I am not going to apologize for doing the right thing!"

"That was not the right thing! The right thing was for you to stay back and stay safe where you couldn't get hurt!" he told you as you noticed his eyes started tearing up.

"You got hurt too, love" you said, placing your hand softly on his cheek.

"Is not the same thing!" he said, stubbornly. "You could have-" he started. "You didn't know what that fucking Death Eater threw at me and you jumped in front of me!" he complained with a few tears rolling down his face.

You sweetly brush away his tears and pulled him a little closer to you. "I'm okay" you told him.

"But you-"

"I'm okay" you repeated, placing his head between your hands and making sure he was looking at you. "I'm here, and I'm okay" you kept repeating, making him wrap his arms around your waist and bringing you closer to him. You feel your entire body aching but there was no way you were going to complain. You knew he needed this more than you did. You saw Bill, Percy, and the twins looking your way, knowing they probably had never seen Charlie break down like this.

"You can't do that! It's not okay!" he said between sobs.

"I know" you said, kissing his forehead. "I'm sorry I scared you" you whispered. "In all fairness, you would have done the same thing-"

"Don't push it, love" he said, glaring at you a little and you pouted. He pulled you back against his chest and kept kissing your head. "I love you so much!"

"I love you too" you said, kissing his cheek.

[holdupjack]

Just Put On The Fleece

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

Warning: sexual suggestions

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

7th Year

Y/n strolled towards Hogsmeade with a smile as snow fell all around her. The lake was completely iced, she could see a few students skating atop its surface.

Snowflakes fell onto her bare arms as some students gave her strange looks at her choice of clothing. She wore just her white button-up and pants, which wasn’t up to most people’s standards when it came to this type of weather.

She didn’t pay them any kind though, instead continuing her peaceful walk to Pippins Potions to stalk up on some ingredients for her next class.

As much as Y/n didn’t feel all the nervous about catching a cold, she did however look over her shoulder every once in a while.

Before she had left to start her walk towards the Village, she had run into Ginny. Now this wasn’t unusual, since they were good friends, but she was even better friends with Y/n’s girlfriend.

Hermione Granger.

The two have been dating for a little over two years now, and to say the least, Hermione was not a huge fan of Y/n’s disregard for winter wear.

They have gotten into fights about it, but they were never huge or harmful. They were just little spits the couple had from time to time around the holidays.

Now Ginny was a little instigator, she loved to get Y/n in trouble with Hermione, and Y/n knew it. Granted, she would never say something to harm their relationship, but Y/n with no coat? Going out into freezing temperatures?

Fair game.

So now Y/n had eyes in the back of her head, almost like she was waiting for her girlfriend to appear out of thin air like a horror movie.

Y/n couldn't help but smile fondly as Hermione's concerns echoed in her mind. Always the protective one, her bushy-haired bookworm. Not that Y/n minded - it was just one more way she knew she was loved.

Reaching Hogsmeade at last, she hurried inside Pippin's Potions to escape the icy kisses peppering her skin. The familiar jingle of bells greeted her, along with friendly shopkeeper Irma Pippin herself.

"Afternoon dear! Back for more fluxweed I see. Winter rolling in already?" The old witch chuckled, taking note of Y/n's sparse attire as she gathered the ingredients into a small pouch.

"You know me Irma, a little chill never bothered me much." Y/n chuckled, exchanging a few knuts for her purchases, placing the pouch into her pocket.

"Though my darling Hermione might avow otherwise..."

Just then, the bells jangled loudly once more. Speak of the devil and so she shall appear, it seemed! Y/n turned with a smile to greet her favorite furious witch.

"Hello, love! Fancy running into you here..." Y/n chuckled nervously as she backed up slightly, almost bumping into Irma as Hermione stepped closer with a stern glare.

“Don’t you ‘hello love’ me! What are you doing out in the snow with no protective clothing!” She says with gritted teeth as the older witch just chuckled as she walked to the back of her shop, muttering ‘if you break it, you buy it’.

“Uh…” Y/n said nervously as Hermione stepped even closer.

Y/n flashes her best disarming smile, hoping to soothe her darling's ruffled feathers. "Now now love, you know a little chill doesn't bother m- oof!"

She's cut off as Hermione shoves a giant fleece throw into her arms. It's garishly orange and covered in little purple cauldrons.

"Here, now you have no excuse. Put this on at once before you catch hypothermia," Hermione huffs, fussing over Y/n until the monstrosity is wrapped snugly around her frame. Only her scowling face remains uncovered.

"There! Don't you look cozy?" Hermione states with a smirk, obviously loving the form of punishment she had procured for their way back to the school.

“I’m not wearing this.” Y/n declared as she playfully glared back at Hermione, who was not happy to hear the defiance.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Hermione says as she grasps Y/n’s face and squishes her cheeks together.

“You’re going to make me swallow my tongue” Y/n muttered as Hermione gave her lips a quick peck and let the girl's face go.

“Now, will you be a listener today, or will I have to ‘accio’ you all the way back to my dorm?” Hermione asks as Y/n crosses her arms and grumbles to herself.

“But I don’t wanna wear this atrocious thing” Y/n whined, which made her girlfriend roll her eyes and sigh, placing her hands on her hips.

“Seriously, Y/n-“

That was all she could get out before the garment was tossed back at her, and the jingling of bells was her only indicator that Y/n had just made a break for it,

“What the- Y/N!” Hermione yelled angrily as she pulled the clothing away from her face and dashed back out into the village. Her eyes darted from left to right, soon landing on Y/n, who was standing at the end of the block with a shit-eating grin.

Y/n's mischievous antics would be the death of her, Hermione swears it. With a steely gaze, she marches purposefully down the street, fleece trailing menacingly behind like a wrathful cape.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" she calls as she closes the distance. But Y/n only grins wider, dancing nimbly out of reach.

"Now now love, can't we discuss this civilly over butterbeers? I'm parched from all this invigorating exercise!" Y/n teases as she continues to back away.

"The only thing you'll be drinking is that foul lake water if you don't surrender yourself this instant!" She stays with a scowl as she watches the snow fall onto her lover's hair and bare skin.

But when has a threat ever stalled this rogue?

With a cheeky blow of a kiss, Y/n pivots on her heel and bolts down a side alley.

“Y/n Y/l/n!”

Hermione gives pursuit, weaving deftly through the village streets. She tries her best not to bump into anyone as she chases Y/n down alleyways and stairways to different streets. At last, she corners her favorite miscreant in a dead end.

"Gotcha!" she crows, triumphantly diving forward to wrap Y/n in her fleecy fate. But the rogue is too swift, spinning nimbly aside with a peal of laughter.

"Is that the best you've got, bookworm?" Y/n taunts, dancing just out of reach again. Her playful grin mocks Hermione's frustration to new heights.

"Why you impertinent—" Lunging again, Hermione feints one way then tackles the other, taking her willful partner by surprise. They tumble headlong into a snowbank, wrestling fiercely as the flakes fall upon their flushed faces.

"Yield, you beautiful scoundrel!" Hermione growls between giggles, wrestling the fleece around Y/n's struggling form at long last.

"Now take your medicine like a good girl." She smirks, pinning her captive beneath triumphant hips, Hermione then leans down to deliver a punishing kiss.

Well, as punishing as a kiss between two love birds can be.

"Let that be a lesson to cross me again, my darling rogue." She whispers when she pulls away, affection softens her stern eyes, and melting away Y/n's resistance completely.

"Oh very well, you've bested me, Granger. Have your victory - this time." Y/n sighs dramatically as she grins up at her girlfriend, and finally accepts her fleecy prison.

"I believe you have an apology to make, you hoodlum." Hermione chuckles, securing Y/n firmly in place as they stand up from the snowbank.

“How about another kiss instead?” Y/n asks with a smirk as she wraps the fleece around their heads and gives another peck to her girlfriend's lips. Hermione just chuckled and happily accepted this form of apology.

So deciding to be a little daring as well, and since they were hidden in a small alleyway, Hermione jumped into her girlfriend's arms. Y/n fell back into the snow, holding onto Hermione tightly as she pressed kisses onto Y/n’s face and lips repeatedly.

Hermione wasn’t this affectionate usually, at least not in public, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love these moments. Where Y/n would do something idiotic, like refusing to wear proper winter clothing, and then make Hermione chase her around Hogsmeade like they’re thirteen again.

A tender smile curves Y/n's lips as her darling bookworm showers her with affection. Moments like this make all their spirited misadventures worthwhile, reminding her anew why she fell for this fiery soul.

"I love you, you know," she murmurs between caresses, gazing up at Hermione with open adoration. It still amazes her sometimes - that such a brilliant witch could love a roguelike her in return.

But love Hermione does, with a passion to match even Y/n's flame. And so their game of chase leads ever onward, whatever obstacles life sends their way.

For now, lost in each other's arms amidst the falling snow, the world beyond fades away. No cares nor duties intrude on this perfect moment, shared alone between two hearts entwined as one.

“Do you mean it?” Hermione whispered as she stared at Y/n with a curious expression, but the tugging smile at the corner of her lips told Y/n that she just wanted to hear her say it again.

“Awe my lovely Gryffindor, I love you more than the ocean loves the shore” Y/n chuckled as she kissed her once more, earning a happy hum from Hermione.

“Aren’t you poetic today?” Hermione whispers as she kisses down Y/n’s jaw, earning a soft purr as the snow melts against her back. Y/n blushes under Hermione's teasing, always rendered bashful by her beloved's quiet charms.

"Only for you, my love. You inspire the poet in me unlike any."

Her touch sends thrills cascading through Y/n's form, setting her aflame despite the chill. How fortunate she was to have found not only a partner to match wits with, but one so generous with passion as well.

"I fear if we linger longer entwined, my good intentions may go out the window," Y/n chuckles, making Hermione snicker and throw the fleece off of their faces. She sits up, straddling Y/n’s hips as she shakes out the snowflakes from her hair.

“You are always so eager to rip my clothes off” Hermione snickers as Y/n shamelessly nods her head in quick succession.

“What do you say we retire to the Three Broomsticks for warmth and nourishment, before reckless passions overtake your mind?" Hermione teases as she stands up and hoists Y/n up to her feet. Pressing one last ardent kiss to perfect lips, Hermione dusts the clinging snow from supple curves. Offering an arm with a rakish smile, she leads them from the alley and back to the bustling thoroughfare.

“So…how about later?” Y/n asked with a smirk as they walked towards the small pub.

“Promise to start wearing your coat?” Hermione asks, looking at her with a grin of her own.

“Fine…” Y/n mumbles in defeat as her girlfriend proudly pulls her quickly into the building.

“Then maybe…you can see what’s under mine tonight”

[dazymaisy]

Harry’s 18th birthday

Mum pulled all the stops for Harry’s eighteenth. She had even dug out the little red pennants she’d used for their birthdays as kids. They were strung between the trees in the garden, faded and creased with age – Ginny hadn’t seen them in years. She’d forgotten they existed, really.

It was a considerable effort to remove herself from conversation with Fleur. It was a bit more like  a lecture than a back and forth, really, about the cookie-cutter trim she had Bill put up at Shell Cottage. Ginny wasn’t paying attention. She was busy watching the birthday boy, holding a red cup and sitting on a picnic bench, letting Teddy crawl all over him. 

Ginny felt warm and lost – her own cup contained cider and a fair amount of Firewhisky.

“That’s lovely, Fleur, I’m happy you’re making the place cozy,” she said distractedly. “Listen, I’m gonna –” she jerked her head in Harry’s direction and left it at that.

Harry smiled benignly at her when she approached. She grinned mischievously back. “I was wondering if you’d like to go someplace else.”

“Yes, please,” Harry said quickly. “Not that this isn’t all very nice –”

“I know.”

He fixed her with a strange expression. Teddy was dangling off his shoulders, tugging at his collar – he didn’t seem to register any disturbance.

“Listen, Ginny…”

Suddenly she recognized it, that faraway, contented sort of look. She smirked. “Have you been drinking too?” she asked abruptly.

Harry blinked slowly. “A bit. It’s my birthday, isn’t it? It's a rite of passage.” His eyes trailed to the cup in her hand. “Have you been drinking?”

Ginny smiled softly, knowingly, and took his hand. “Come on.” She tugged him away from the bench. 

Harry shrugged Teddy off. “Go run and find Uncle Ron, alright? Tell him you’d like more cake.”

They tipped the rest of their drinks into the grass before going inside. Harry followed her up the creaking steps to her bedroom. Neither of them were drunk enough to stumble on the stairs, but they were giddy enough to giggle about the idea of being caught sneaking off. 

“Mum would have a fit,” groaned Ginny.

She watched in quiet amazement as Harry stood in the center of her bedroom, looking around at the posters. A slant of white sunlight warmed the rug. 

He stared at her suddenly. “Last time I was in your room, it was also my birthday.”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Ginny. How could she forget? It had been a year now, she supposed. Just thinking about it brought back the tension and the stress of that summer. The sense they were all on the edge of impending, irreversible disaster. It didn’t feel like that anymore. Things were slower, now.

Harry grinned weakly. “Remember Ron…”

“Oh, he was furious,” Ginny said, lackluster.

It was all coming to a head now, everything she’d felt about Harry for the past year. Something hot pricked her throat. The liquor was making her braver, she realized. “Listen, Harry –”

“No,” he cut in. She looked up, surprised. Harry was wringing his hands together anxiously. “Ginny, I…”

His voice trailed off. Ginny remembered the summer prior, how desperately she’d needed a moment just like this one. The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up in a smirk. Ginny nudged the door shut with her toe and pressed the lock.

Before she could act logically, they were up against the door, kissing passionately. She wasn’t entirely sure who initiated it – they’d drawn together like charged magnets. Ginny ran her hands over his back, over the prominent angles of his shoulder blades. Harry slowly, gently traced the soft curve in her waist. A hot breath of July air blew in through the window as they moved to the bed.

Soon Ginny was helping Harry guide her shorts over her hips. As much as she hated to do it, Ginny forced herself to stop. They’d gone below the waist before, sure – handies and whatnot – but this felt like something more.

Harry froze. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes. It’s great,” Ginny breathed. The words tumbled out of her. Her own voice sounded strange. “I just need to know one thing, please. And then I won’t ask anything else for a while, okay?” 

Harry nodded silently.

“Did you think you would come back?” she whispered.

“No,” he said.

Ginny sucked in a breath. Some part of her had hoped he would lie, though she knew he wouldn’t. “So you thought you were going to die.”

She could tell Harry was battling with himself, trying to decide how much he should tell her. Ginny didn’t press – not yet. Only if she thought he was holding something back.

“Well, I did die, technically –”

“No,” she cut in, softly. “You thought you were going to really die. Stone cold dead. And we’d all have to bury you.”

Ginny was surprised by her own composure.

Harry looked perplexed. “Well, yes.”

“Okay.”

Harry squirmed. She looked over at him. It was then that she noticed a familiar-looking lightning shaped scar on his bare chest, red and raised and angry looking. “I don’t… that’s all you wanted to know?”

“For now,” she said. 

They laid on the backs for a moment, shoulder-to-shoulder, in a strip of sunlight on the bedspread. Ginny wondered idly why she wasn’t crying, why she wasn’t more emotional. This felt like the sort of thing to get emotional about.

“I thought about you, you know,” Harry said suddenly. She turned her head to look back at him – he was still staring at the ceiling. “You were the last thing.”

“What?”

He smiled oddly at her. “Before the – when I was in the forest, before he threw the curse. When I didn’t think I’d come back. I thought about you.”

It felt like something heavy had both settled and lifted from her chest. “What about me?” she said dumbly.

“Just… you,” said Harry. “You know.”

Ginny’s heart swelled. It was obviously a very esteemed compliment, but not the sort you accepted with gratitude. She couldn’t very well say, Thank you Harry, that’s so sweet, that I was the last thing you thought of as you walked to your death. So she crawled on top of him and looked down directly into his face. Confused green eyes met hers. She pressed a firm kiss to his forehead.

“I love you,” she said matter-of-factly.

Harry was quiet for a moment. His nose scrunched, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to receive this information, and for a moment her stomach sank. But then he grinned at her, lopsided and beautiful.

“Yeah. I love you too, obviously.”

Ginny barked out a laugh. She had that rare feeling that she was exactly where she was supposed to be, in this moment – one she hadn’t felt since she was a kid, running back from the frog pond with Ron for dinner. 

It was a wonderful, warm sensation.

[albaskies]

But Daddy, I love him!

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3's The Tortured Potters Department - Several Sunlit Daylights Fest | Also on AO3:

Ginny is extremely pleased with herself for having somehow managed to turn the candles in her room back on. She hasn’t done it on purpose, of course, nor has she premeditated it - she simply squeezed her eyes shut, wishing so very hard that she didn’t have to go to sleep, and upon opening them, she found her room dimly lit again. She’s started to display her first signs of magic lately, and she’s very proud of having caught up with her brothers in that regard, of being one step closer to them. Sometimes she finds herself dreaming that, if she keeps up with this pace and maybe if she manages to practise a bit, she’ll receive her Hogwarts letter early and she’ll be able to join Bill and Charlie there…

A gentle knock on the door distracts her from her thoughts, and her father enters the room, his glasses slid down the tip of his nose, his smile drowsy. 

‘Ginny,’ he sighs, but still looking at her fondly. He seems to have decided to ignore the candles that are inexplicably lighting the room. ‘Shouldn’t you be asleep already?’

Ginny shrugs, a wry smirk painted on her face. She’s relieved that it’s her dad who’s found her still awake, rather than her mum. Her mum would hush her back to bed, not wanting to hear a single word - but with her dad, she knows she has more leeway, she knows that he’ll sit with her and watch her until she falls asleep.

‘Can you tell me the story of the Boy Who Lived?’

Her father sighs again, as he approaches her bed and sits down next to her. She scooches over, trying to leave as much space as she can for him to be comfortable.

‘Why do you like that story so much?’

‘Because,’ says Ginny, taking a big breath. ‘Well, because I love him, Daddy!’

Her dad’s eyes are bewildered as he lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Oh, do you now? And why’s that?’

‘Because he’s all alone, his Mummy and Daddy died and he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters,’ replies Ginny, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Mum said that he needs everyone’s love, so maybe I can give him some, too.’

Her father looks at her tenderly, almost in disbelief, as if he’s wondering how they’ve managed to raise such a kind and loving soul. 

‘You know what, Ginny, I think you’re quite right. I’m sure he could use some love from everyone.’ he tells her, gently stroking her hair. ‘Come on now, lay down properly and I’ll tell you the story.’

She beams at him, and soon falls asleep to the sound of words she knows too well; words about a dark-haired boy, a lightning scar, and the sheer power of love.

-

The storm has finally ended, and now a thick, shiny blanket of snow covers the orchard at the Burrow like a layer of frosting on her favourite desserts. She’ll be able to play outside tomorrow - building snow wizards and witches or snowball fighting with her brothers, and hopefully someone will enchant the snowballs just to add a little more fun to the game. But Ginny - elbows on her desk, head held between her hands, her eyes fixed outside the window - isn’t particularly excited about the prospect, or excited at all for that matter. Quite the contrary, actually - she is really, really furious with her brother for spending his second Christmas in a row away from home, leaving her alone once again. It was bad enough, last year - but, at least, her parents had taken her to Romania to visit Charlie, and she had become used to Ron’s absence anyway, so she had stopped holding a grudge relatively quickly. This year she’s home, and everyone else is home too, but Ron has chosen to stay at Hogwarts. He was not forced by the circumstances, or else - it was his conscious, deliberate choice.

The truth is that she’s not just angry about Christmas, but about the whole stupid term, too. After spending every single day of their lives together for ten years, and after waiting for twelve exasperating months just to join him, Ron has barely ever spent any time with her at school. She’s quite sure that he’s even tried to avoid her intentionally on a couple of occasions. To make everything much worse, it’s been rather challenging for her to make new friends this year - which is odd, she reckons, considering that she’s normally very outgoing and fun to talk to. She’d hoped that Ron could’ve helped, that’s all. But his new circle of very important friends doesn’t seem to have a spot for her now, and certainly it doesn’t help that one of these friends is -

Her heart sinks in her stomach. Somehow, she can’t shake off the strange feeling of disappointment over Harry not being here, either. She’d wished she were able to spend more time with him outside of school; she had even rehearsed a couple of things to say in his presence, and she was sure, so very sure, that she wouldn’t have blushed this time. Well, it hadn’t been her idea, actually, but she’d been positive it would’ve worked. The only friend she’s been able to make this year has assured her of that.

A casual knock on her door startles her, but she doesn’t turn around to check who’s entered her room. She knows all too well that only her father would bother to knock on a door that’s been left open anyway. 

‘Ready to come down, Ginny?’, she hears his voice say, confirming her suspicions. ‘Or do you intend to keep sulking up here for a while longer?’

She feels a little embarrassed by his question but, when she turns around to look at him, she finds with slight relief that his glare isn’t harsh or judgemental.

‘It’s not fair, Dad!’, she complains. ‘Why did you let Ron stay at Hogwarts for the holidays?’

‘He wanted to keep his friends company. I think that’s actually very nice,’ her father calmly replies. She knows that by his friends he really means Harry, because she reckons Hermione has a nice family to go back to. Although, it’s rather weird that she decided to stay, too - maybe she also wanted to keep Harry company? She bitterly concludes that she doesn’t know, nor she ever will, because nobody tells her anything, nobody includes her in anything, she’s always left behind.

‘Harry could’ve come over too, couldn’t he?’, she then asks without thinking.

‘Well, of course we would’ve been happy to have him, but I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.’

Not knowing what he means, she feels suddenly irritated, almost as if her father intended to suggest that Harry didn’t want to spend Christmas at the Burrow because of her. That would make sense, actually, given that she hasn’t been able to behave like a normal person every time they’ve been in the same room. What if she’s annoyed him beyond repair? What if he… hates her now?

‘But I really don’t understand why Harry wouldn’t want to -’

‘Maybe we should leave Harry and his business alone for the time being, don’t you think?’, suggests her father gingerly.

Another wave of humiliation rushes through her body, as she feels that her father’s just simultaneously exposed and dismissed one of her deepest secrets. But she has to defend it, doesn’t she, she has to stand up for herself -

‘But Daddy, I love him!’, she shouts, yet flushing, feeling more ashamed than ever.

Her father gives her a puzzled look, his lips pursed together in a thin line. ‘Don’t be silly, Ginny,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘Come on now, go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.’

Ginny gives him another sheepish look as he leaves the room without uttering another word, but she doesn’t obey straight away. Instead, she quickly grabs her diary like it’s a magnet, suddenly feeling the urge to let out all her frustration, shame and dejection. 

I love him, but nobody believes me, she writes, warm tears filling up her eyes. Nobody understands.

Within a few seconds, her words made of ink sink into the rough paper, and new ones slowly emerge in that all-too-familiar fashion.

I do understand you, Ginny, they read. I am the only one who does.

-

It almost feels surreal - to be home. To eat properly, to rest, to finally lower her guard; to escape from all the secrecy, the plotting, the sneaking around, and, well, yes, from all the punishments, the physical strain, and the emotional abuse. 

She hasn’t realised how drained she’s felt until she sinks in her favourite plush chair in the living room of the Burrow, surrounded by her family, feeling warm again. She even manages to avoid the prying eyes, quietly dozing off for a little while. But then she’s awakened by a soft thump - something small and smooth has been thrown into her lap.

‘Is it true, then?’, asks George, while she examines the familiar coin he’s passed on to her. ‘Have you reinstated the D.A.?’

Before she can answer, her mother glares at her with fire in her eyes.

‘I should hope not, Ginny.’

Ginny feels a sudden rush of annoyance tingling her body. Always the last, always protected, always underestimated. Always meant to be left behind.

‘Of course we have,’ she says mildly. ‘They’re torturing children for fun, you know.’

‘And what do you do when that happens?’, argues her mother sharply. ‘Do you take their place?’

As she does not reply, her mother’s expression changes from indignation to pure horror, her gaze darting quickly between Ginny’s face and that faded blue turtleneck jumper she’s wearing for the first time in years. She’s noticed, then.

‘Take off that jumper, Ginny.’

‘No.’

‘I said,’ her mother pleads, now shouting in fury. ‘Take off that jumper, now!’

Ginny isn’t really sure whether her refusal stems from her desire to spare her mother from further suffering, to protect her from the cuts, the bruises and scars she carries on her body like medals; or whether it comes from her own pride, her will to show that she, too, can fight. 

She storms off to her bedroom, slamming the door, and she’s surprisingly left alone long enough for her to lie down and enjoy some quiet, exhausted by her own anger. Her bed feels softer than she could remember, her room like her only sanctuary in all the chaos.

The knock on the door she’s been expecting is weak and hesitant, and her father enters the room cautiously, almost as if he expects something to explode at any moment. She takes advantage of the silence to observe him, to register every new line around his mouth, every new wrinkle around his eyes. He seems to have aged years in the span of just a few short months.

She raises her back and sits on the bed, still saying nothing. He breaks the silence first, watching her gravely, cutting straight to the chase.

‘Has your brother asked you to do this, Ginny?’, he asks, unable to fully conceal the bitterness in his voice. ‘Or Harry, for that matter?’

She shivers at the sound of his name, her eyes are now burning, but she doesn’t lower her gaze.

‘No, of course not.’

Her father exhales heavily, as if releasing a tension he’s been holding in his chest for Merlin knows how long, and sits down next to her on the bed.

‘Why do you do it, then?’, he asks her plainly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no resentment. ‘Why do you put your life on the line like that?’

This is when she immediately looks away, feeling a strange lump in her throat.

‘Why do you do it, Dad?’, she barely manages to say, her voice shaking. 

He sighs again, defeated. ‘You should lay low, Ginny. You’re already very much in danger as it is, being a Weasley. No matter all the stories we’ve made up to cover for Harry, Snape knows that our family is close to him, and that means you as well.’

Ginny scoffs. A few months ago, she would’ve found such a comment insulting, belittling, maybe even a little heartbreaking. But now she’s so full of it - she’s so full of having to endure people passing judgements on what she is or isn’t for Harry, so full of having to pretend that they are nothing, so full of being scared to death that she’ll end up convincing herself, too. She can’t resist the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all - or, even more so, the urge to let it all out, to say it exactly as it is, because she doesn’t owe it to anyone to remain on the sidelines, not her mother, not her father, especially not Harry.

‘Oh, it’s much worse than that,’ she hisses, her sarcasm tainted with pure spite.

Her father gives her a quizzical look. She fixes her glare on him now, her voice no longer shaking, her eyes no longer stinging with tears.

‘I love him, Dad,’ she says, then lets out another high-pitched laugh. ‘It’s sickening, isn’t it? It makes me fucking sick.’

He looks at her, transfixed, too appalled to scold her for her language. After so many years, it still surprises him. But there’s something different in the way she’s said it now, something that wasn’t there when she was five or eleven years old. Disillusionment, anger, sadness. Maturity. Acceptance.

His eyes glimmer as if he’s just finally laid the final piece in one of his Muggle puzzles, and the full picture finally comes to life. He seems, somehow, to understand it all at once. 

‘And he loves you too, I suppose?’

Ginny feels a familiar, but long forgotten heat creeping on her cheeks. For a short moment, it feels good to blush again.

‘I reckon he does, yes,’ she whispers. Those words feel weird exposed to the real world - she’s never acknowledged it out loud, and Harry certainly has never told her. Hers is just a hunch, a gut feeling, maybe an innocent hope, something she’s never dared to question. Now that she’s said them, those words don’t lose their meaning, as she feared they would - rather, they resonate even stronger in her, they just click, everything falls into place, but they don’t make her nearly as happy as they probably should have.

‘Don’t worry,’ she says bitterly, before her father can say anything. She reads it all over his face - the doubt, the concern, the suspicion. She shrugs. ‘He’s already taken care of it.’

For a short moment that seems suspended in time, they look at each other - a daughter that’s had to grow up way too soon, a father who’s understood that there are things he cannot shelter her from. 

He then awkwardly pats her on her back, stands up, and leaves her room in silence, at a loss for words. 

She, for one, is grateful that he hasn’t doubted her heart this time.

-

Their wedding is a rather small affair. 

The marquee that had been previously used for Bill and Fleur’s wedding feels bigger than ever, now hosting barely thirty of them between their massive family, a handful of grandchildren, and their closest friends. 

It has been Ginny and Harry’s desire to throw a modest party in the orchard, without making too much fuss, avoiding lavish and crowded celebrations. After all, the saviour of the Wizarding world marrying an internationally renowned Quidditch player is exactly that kind of event a horde of journalists and curious onlookers would throw themselves at, like a swarm of bees on a honey jar. So they’ve decided to keep it low and simple - just like their whole romance, after all.

If it were for Ginny, she would’ve got married wearing Muggle clothes somewhere deep in a forest, standing on a random rock, for all that she cares. But she didn’t want to rob her parents of the joy of walking their only daughter down the aisle, or her brothers of the opportunity of celebrating their only sister on one of the happiest days of her life. And Harry has happily obliged - ultimately, it is his family, too.

‘I just want to marry you,’ he said once, grinning madly, his green eyes flashing like the day he kissed her for the first time, that tenth of May of exactly five years ago.

And so here they are now, under the marquee, everyone either dancing, running around or mingling, champagne bubbling in their goblets (‘I’d still fancy a posh drink at my own wedding, thank you very much’), married at last.

Ginny smiles as she watches her (she feels heat all over her body to even fathom the word) husband trying to dance with her mother, his new mother-in-law, who is sobbing rather uncontrollably on his shoulder, dampening his new elegant robes. Harry has the most loving look in his eyes as he gently pats her on her back, and Ginny can’t help but notice that he’s a little choked up, too.

She’s so mesmerised by the two of them, so full of love, that it takes her a while to notice that her father has joined her, and is now staring at her with a knowing look painted on his face.

‘What?’, she laughs.

He grins at her tenderly, putting an arm around her shoulders.

‘You love him, don’t you?’

Ginny lets out another laugh. ‘Oh, d’you reckon? Whatever gave it away?’

Her father smiles again, wider this time, squeezing her tightly. 

‘You might have mentioned it, you know, once or twice.’

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Draco Malfoy, twelve years old, who sees his father sneak a small book into eleven year old Ginny Weasley’s cauldron at the bookshop.

Draco, who recalls seeing it before at the Manor and knows very well this book is important for the Dark Lord.

Draco, who steals the book back and sneaks it into his pocket while his father isn’t watching.

Fast forwards a few years to Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts, when he’s on his mission to assassin Dumbledore, a task he’s been given by the Dark Lord himself.

Draco Malfoy, who gets caught in the hallways one night and dragged by the ear into professor Slughorn’s ongoing party, at the hands of Filch. Draco, who overhears a snippet of Snape’s conversation with Slughorn and Harry Potter himself.

Draco, who can’t help but gain suspicion when he learns that Harry Potter is suddenly a master in potion making, which would explain how he managed to win the Polyjuice potion earlier that year…

Draco, who remembers sneaking a glance at Potter’s Potions book and seeing scribbles all over it, and slowly connecting the dots.

Another suspicious book at the hands of Harry Potter. Draco suddenly worrying about the horrors the things written in this book could do…

Draco realising that he could use said horrors to his advantage, and at the same time manage to steal the book from Potter and make sure he won’t do anything he’ll regret with it (not that Draco’s worried, or anything. Simply curious.)

Draco, who one way or another manages to steal the book one day, flipping through the pages while his eyes widen.

Draco finding a curse he definitely wouldn’t mind to use…

And then…

Drarry microfic (Angst) by @yourlocalbadgerscales ~ Sectumsempra

“I know you’re up to something, Malfoy!”

Draco spins around, suddenly alarmed by the voice behind him, a voice he knows more than well… he doesn’t even have the time to wipe the tears off of his face as he turns his back to the sink.

“Tell me.” Potter slowly takes a few steps further into the bathroom, and when Draco grabs a hold of his wand and points it at his face, at those unfairly green eyes, Potter does that same with his. “Tell me what you did to Katie! And to Ron!” Potter looks… shook. He staring at Draco with confusion rather than anger written all over his face. And Draco hasn’t even started revealed anything to him yet. Not that he’s planning to.

Draco has had enough. He casts a silent but strong spell Potter’s way, and a lamp explodes behind the other boy. Potter gasps, waving his wand through the air and aiming a spell of his own right at Draco, who blocks it with ease. His breathing is fast and loud in his ears as he sends a spell to make the bins behind Potter explode, completely ignoring the loud cries from Myrtle. Potter, for some reason, is still silent while fighting.

Potter’s next spell misses, he trips, and Draco doesn’t hesitate a second. He lifts his wand.

“Crucio!”

And even now, Potter doesn’t scream. Draco learns why pretty soon.

Potter liesnon the floor, his hands covering his face, as if that would help against the Torture Curse. But he isn’t writhing with pain, he isn’t crying out loud. Suddenly he jumps up again, holding his wand firmly in his hand once more. He points it at Draco, whose mouth is agape.

“What?” Draco can’t help but let out a frustrated curse.

“Seems like something went wrong with your spell”, Potter says simply.

Draco casts Cruciatus again, and again. Potter winces both times but doesn’t seem to experience any pain whatsoever. Draco’s blood boils at the sight of his face relaxing slightly.

“You have to mean it, Draco. The Cruciatus. Or else it won’t work, won’t cause me any harm at all. Has your auntie Bellatrix learnt you nothing?”

Suddenly Potter’s face is radiating pure rage again, and Draco grips his wand tighter, memories of a furious aunt Bella standing over him as a kid, laughing maniacally as she casts Cruciatus on him over and over again, until he’s nothing but a crying mess on the Manor floor… the memories, the memories…

Draco gathers all the fury he has in him, before attempting to cast the spell again, aiming at Potter’s chest… but somewhere in the middle he changes his mind, and before his brain catches up with his lips, he’s uttered another spell. He sounds confident as he screams it at the top of his lungs, and his hand slips only a little.

“Sectumsempra!”

A sudden sharp intake of breath, cutting through the air as a razor blade as the spell hits… not his, but Potter’s…

Potter’s eyes are halfway shut before he falls to the floor, a glimpse of green catching Draco’s eye half a second before he sees the red blood. And then Potter is lying face down in the water flooding the bathroom, and Draco takes a step back, breathing heavily.

He counts to two, and then he sees the blood again. This time he sees it in the water, a big pool of red starting to show in long streaks of red as it surrounds Potter’s body and soaks his clothes.

“No, no… no. No!”

Draco quickly recalls seeing the blood pour out somewhere near the right side of Potter’s chest, as the spell had just hit him. Draco stumbles forward, almost tripping over himself and then over Potter’s lifeless body as he falls onto his knees. The blood in the water reaches him within seconds, and he whimpers at the sight of it. “No, fuck’s sake, Potter, Potter!” He fumbles as he does his best to turn Potter to face him, and when he finally succeeds he’s quick to run his fingers over Potter’s shirt. He immediately finds the spot where the blood is the darkest. The spell has hit the right side of his ribcage…

The whole time so far he’s been chanting Potter’s name, letting it slip over his lips like a prayer to anyone who is listening, and now his desperate cries for help grow louder. “Potter… Potter no, listen, you have got to answer me! Potter!”

He can hear Myrtle screaming behind him. He doesn’t know how he feels about being found here, like this, but Draco finds it hard to care. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. Potter’s face is pale, his lips parted and pale as well. Draco tightens his grip on one of Potter’s arms, pressing the other hand to his chest, trying his best to be as gentle as possible so he doesn’t cause any more harm than he already has.

Potter’s eyes suddenly open slightly, and Draco’s chanting stops. The hand he’s held on Potter’s arm trails up to wipe strands of wet, charcoal hair out of the pale face looking up at him. Those green eyes are hauntingly empty of any emotion.

“Hold on, stay with me”, Draco mumbles quickly. “Don’t die on me, for fuck’s fucking sake, don’t die on me, fuck I didn’t mean to fucking kill you, why did you have to come in here in the first place? You’re an annoying prick who doesn’t deserve to fucking die, Harry, don’t die, He wants to… himself… I’m not supposed to… Draco, calm down, calm down. Harry!”

Myrtle’s screams have turned into loud howling mixed with sobs. Potter’s eyes fall shut again and he lets out a muffled groan, his head tipping from one side and then to another. Draco keeps frantically wiping strands of hair from Potter’s forehead, being careful not to make the round glasses slip out of place. Potter has closed his mouth, his lips pressed together before falling slack again. He’s showing signs of still being alive, then, thank fucking Merlin. Draco’s hands are shining with blood. Potter’s chest is heaving. Draco keeps muttering the boy’s name under his breath, Harry, Harry, Harry…

After what feels like an eternity, someone enters the room, and Draco collapses in the water next to Harry while his whole body shakes with uncontrollable sobs.

[badasgirlfriend]

Everything for you

pairing: draco malfoy x ravenclaw! fem oc

genre: angst

warnings: toxic relationship, jealosy, swearing, draco being a dick

a/n: i listened to i miss u im sorry while writing this, also this is my first draco imagine pls be nice :D

part 2?

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·..·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

"Draco" the young ravenclaw yells as she chases her boyfriend. She calls out his name, begging him to stop and listen to her.

But Draco is faster than her and he is able to to keep running away. He's too overwhelmed and angry to even talk to her With everything that has been going on he wishes he could just disappear without ever being found. He continues to ignore his girlfriend's calls, her voice getting fainter as he escapes into the dark.

He finds himself near the room of requirement. He was furious, he slams his fist into the wall, hard. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the anger and jealousy he was feeling. Memories of what his friends said, of Potter flirting and dancing with his girlfriend play in Draco's mind.

"Mate, put a leash on your girlfriend. She couldn't keep her hands off Potter all night"

"They danced all night, even Slughorn thought they would make a good couple"

He thought Nott and Goyle could be lying, but why would they lie. He immediately went to the party Slughorn was holding, he wished that it was all bullshit but when he stepped in the room and saw Briar and Potter dancing, His Briar and Potter dancing and giggling, fucking giggling. He saw his girlfriend leaning and touching Potters cheek, was she going to kiss him...? He would never forget their faces when they saw him, their smiles faded so fast, it was like they got caught doing something.

He snaps out of it when he hears Briar's voice. Draco turns around to see her running towards him. She grabs his wrist before he leaves again. But Draco wasn't having any of this. He shakes Briar's hand off his wrist "What do you want"

Briar takes a step back shocked, Draco never acted like this towards her so this was new to the brunette. She didn't know what happened or what she did wrong to make him this upset.

One minute she was dancing and laughing at her friend's poor dancing and eavesdropping skills. He wanted to know what Ginny and her date were arguing over so him being nosy, he asked Briar to dance, and help him.

"What happened" she furrows her brows taking a good look at him. It has been two days since she last saw him, Briar didn't know if he was avoiding her or he was really busy with homework like Blaise told her. He looked tired and exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. He had bags under his eyes and his face was too pale. Draco was clearly struggling with something, and Briar felt her heart breaking. All the curses she had wanted to say to him for avoiding her vanished "Are you sick Dray-" She wanted to hug and comfort him but when she went to hug him, he stepped back

"Don't.'

Briar looked at Draco with hurt and confusion on her face. This wasn't like him. Before she could say anything else he beats her to it

'How was the party, did you enjoy it?' his tone was cold and his face stern.

"The party was fine, I had a really good ti-"

"Oh I don't doubt that" he cut her off "Who wouldn't have, with Potter twirling you around whispering sweet things in your ear"

His words made Briar laugh. She couldn't believe what he had said and thought he must be joking "Yeah especially when he got on his knees and proposed to me" she jokes, but her laughter dies when she sees his face, he meant what he said.

Draco was stunned by her laughter. He thought she would be ashamed, but instead she laughed as if everything was a joke. He felt his anger growing "Im sure you wanted that"

"Draco wha-"

"After all he wants you-"

"What-"

"You want him, you'd make a good couple"

"What the hell are you talking about"

'You know damn well what the fuck Im talking about" Draco snapped, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. Why was she acting so clueless. Why couldn't she see how much she had hurt him "You were all over him flir-"

"WHAT THE FUCK' Briar yells, she felt like she was going to explode. She was tired of the vague statements and the confusion "I don't fucking know a single thing you're making up'

The slytherin boy scoffs. he was losing control of what he was feeling. He couldn't stop thinking about all the times his girlfriend hung up with Harry, when they talked, laughed and everything.

'He deserves her' a voice says in his head 'He can protect her whereas you will only break and put her life in danger'

He didn't want to believe it, but, it was true. A knot forms on his throat. You don't deserve her, you don't deserve her, you don't deserve her

"Sorry for ruining your little party you can go back and continue making googly eyes at your precious Potter" he spits "Or maybe you'd rather be with Weasley.

Briar was taken aback at what Draco was saying. She had nothing going on with Harry they were close friends and Draco knew that, she told him from the start. He never accused her of being unfaithul during their two year relationship.

"Draco, I know you're not at your best right now, but this is hurting me" Briar says. She was trying to be understanding. She knew Draco wasn't himself, but his words hurt her. "Please don't say things you don't mean"

Draco completly ignored what she said, for once in his life he had something or rather someone Potter didn't have, Briar.

Not anymore.

"Fuck- why did you go with him" his voice broke "You know he's the only one who has something over him and you still went with him fucking hell Briar you played me well"

"We were just dancing, he-he wanted to know why Ginny and her boyfrie-"

"Stop lying you were about to kiss"

"Im not lying" she chokes up "Stop acting like a dick and listen, we weren't about to kiss, Harry doesn't even fucking like me Draco you know he's my closest friend"

Draco clicked his tounge shaking his head, he couldn't believe it, she was defending him

"Do you know what everyone was saying, that you look like a couple" Briar only stared at him with tears on her eyes, why wasn't he believing her "That you were all over him, he was all over you. That you fi- you finally got together"

Briars heart was shattering with every word her boyfriend was saying "Since when do you listen to the other people"

From the start he thinks to himself unwanted memories coming to him

'Did you hear Malfoy and Bianchi are dating"

'She can definitely do better"

"I was rooting for her and Harry man"

"I don't think they will last knowing his familys history and all"

"I thought she liked Harry"

"Why would she choose him, his family is full with death eaters, he's gonna become one sooner or later"

Yes why would she choose you Draco when she can have better

"Since my girlfriend’s name keeps getting mentioned with schools saint" he gets closer to her and sees the tears brimming in her eyes, he made her cry. "Who's next give me a hint, the Weaslys? You have options there, maybe Finnigan or my friend Zabini, huh? I wouldn't be surprised, you would go along with his mom, even share the list of the men you want to go after”

Briar felt like a little girl getting scolded by her mother, like she was in trouble for a mistake that she didn't realize she had made. After all she went through for him, did she deserve to be treated like this.

He looked at Briar and spoke through clenched teeth "Bloody hell I even went against my parents for you because you're a half blood, everything they believed in and everything they wanted, for you!"

Ouch

Draco knew he shouldn't have said those things. Blood status didn't matter to him he didn't say that because he believes it, he said that because he was angry and he wanted to hurt her. The blond boy didn't apologise or try to fix the damage he had caused. Instead, he just kept on with the attack.

If someone asked Briar who was the person standing in front of her, she would be at loss. This isn't the Draco she had fallen in love with. She didn't recognize him.

'Im not sorry" she says in a low voice, the anger and hurt appeared in her eyes as she gazed at him. She hit him on the chest "Im not sorry for dancing with my friend' hit "Im not sorry for being a halfblood" hit "Im not sorry for other people talking"

As she raised her fist to hit him again, he quickly grabbed her wrists, stopping in her tracks

"Stop" he said in a stern tone, his gaze steady and his grip firm

She didn't try to pull away her wrists, she simply stared at his eyes, blue met gray "But Im sorry for myself because I- don't deserve this"

"I've made so many sacrifices for you, given up so much for our relationship, because I love you. I've lost friends, I almost lost my relationship with my parents too. But all I wanted was to be with you, no matter the cost" she said her voice cracking and tears rolling down her cheeks and Draco wanted to do nothing more but wipe her tears.

"Yet you ruined everything" Draco's voice was cold and unfeeling, it cut through her like a knife "Like you always do"

"I didn't ruin shit" her voice was filled with anger and hurt, her hands were shaking as she grabbed him by the collar wrenching him closer to her, shouting in his face "This is all your doing, you're destroying us, because of your own insecurities"

"I could have accused you of cheating," she said, her tone still thick with emotion. "You've been so distant lately, leaving me to spend time with some other girl?"

Draco shook his head in disbelief unable to believe what she was saying, if she only knew what he was doing.

"I could have easily thought the worst," she continued, "Because you haven't even noticed that I haven't been around."

She took a shaky breath, and her eyes met his, "But I didn't, I never would."

Draco's jaw tightened as he met her gaze. He knew if he stayed more he would break down, so with that she pushed Briars hands and turned to leave.

"Draco" he stops in his track and closes his eyes at the sound of his name coming from her "Please let's talk and figure out this misunderstanding"

He thinks about it, he thinks of the aftermath and it doesn't look good on his head. It's better like this, for both of them.

Briar's chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath, her tears falling down her cheeks. "Draco," she said through her tears, "If you leave now, it's over for us."

Draco's head was buzzing with thoughts, his emotions in turmoil. A voice in the back of his mind told him that he wasn't good enough for her, that she deserved better. She deserved someone who shared the same beliefs and values, someone who can support her in the way she deserves it. A death eater can't do that, so to protect her he chose to leave without sparing a glance at her.

A pang of heartbreak hit Briar as she watched Draco leave, her eyes blurry with tears as she tried to hold back her emotions. But then, as he disappeared out the door, the dam of tears broke and she crumpled to the ground, her face buried in her palms as she sobbed uncontrollably. As the tears fell down her cheeks, she felt a deep fear of abandonment welling up inside her.

"I didn't cheat on you, why won't you believe me," she sobbed softly, her voice trembling as she felt utterly alone. "I didn't do anything…"

For a moment, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Draco would come back, maybe she would be able to explain things to him again. But the thought was quickly snatched away. Nobody was there to comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right. Nobody cared.

She could hear the muffled voices of two voices arguing nearby. One voice, was sweet and gentle, while the other voice, husky but soothing. They were both very recognizable, even if she couldn't make out their words clearly.

"How in the bloody hell are we gonna find her in this bloody massive castle Granger, not very smart of you?"

"Will you stop Parkinson, she's somewhere here. Let's just look"

"There"

"3..2..1.. Happy birthday to you happy birthday dear Bria- Briar what happened" it was Pansy her best friend who immediatly went to her side, Hermione behind her trying not to trip and fall with the cake they had made for her.

Pansy took Briar's face in her hands, wiping away her tears with a gentle touch. Hermione took Briar's hand in hers, her eyes filling with tears seeing her best friend in such a state. Briar didn't say anything, she knew that if she said something right know she would end up worse Hermione and Pansy wrapped their arms around Briar tightly, their hug comforting and supportive.

It was clear that they both cared about her, and they weren't going to leave her alone to suffer. Even though it hurt to see her like this, they were trying to be strong for her, and their hugs offered a calming presence and comfort. They gave each other a worried look as they held their best friend bclose, each of them worrying about how much pain Briar must be in. But they both agreed to be there for her, no matter what.

Briar's tears continued to fall down her cheeks, but she hugged her two friends back tightly. It felt nice to have their support, and she appreciated how they were there for her in her time of need.

[arliedraws]

Do you think, during OotP, Sirius got to know about the heroic things Harry did before? Like flying a car to school, killing a baslisk, youngest seeker of century, etc, etc.? How would he have reacted? Proud? Or astonished?

Ohhhhh MAN. I’d bet it would be a mix of emotions. Proud, yes, but furious too. Hogwarts is supposed to be safe, and yet Harry has faced death each year he’s been to school.

By the way it sounds in OotP, it seems like Harry hasn’t filled Sirius in on everything. For example, when Kreacher goes missing at Christmas, Sirius remarks that Kreacher couldn’t leave the house, but Harry says a bit vaguely that he knew of an house-elf who was able to leave his family. If Harry had told Sirius the whole story about the diary and the Chamber of Secrets, wouldn’t Dobby have come up? Wouldn’t Sirius already have that knowledge?

Sadly, I don’t think Sirius knew too much about that stuff UNLESS Harry shared it with him in letters between PoA and Gof (as there are several letters we never see ‘on screen’), mostly because Harry stops being open and honest with Sirius after GoF.

Honestly, I would LOVE to see a oneshot during the summer of OotP where Sirius learns about these things one by one. Maybe Ginny mentions off-hand about being possessed by Voldemort, to which Sirius is like “????????? what ?????” and then they have to explain the diary and Riddle and the basilisk. Then Sirius overhears the kids wondering who they might get as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, and he’s confused when they bring up Quirrell who had Voldemort attached to the back of his head.

[tedwardremus]

What kind of dates do you think Harry and Ginny go on? I think they are super fun-loving thrill seekers. Harry was denied so many happy experiences when he was younger and I bet Ginny fantasized about all the things she would do when she was older and had money and finally some freedom. So, I think they are super fun and they travel a lot. Basically act like two big kids even when they are 35 or 45. They do things like order every dessert item on a restaurant's menu. They do dumb challenges like try every cereal and rank them from best to worst. Make a list of every single theme park and all the best rides and try to experience every single one (they def took Teddy to Disney World and paid for the VIP treatment so he could eat with Mickey Mouse). They do bucket list things like spend Christmas in NYC (Harry loves it because the muggles are distant and rude and that's totally his vibe) and spend New Years on Sydney Harbour watching the fireworks on the beach (one of Ginny's fave ever memories). When the kids have birthdays they are the aunt and uncle that rent the bouncy castle and water slide and rent a fckn pony for the kids to ride. They are FUN. For Christmas they do a build the nicest gingerbread house challenge with the kids and its super competitive. One time Ginny shows up at Hogwarts and says there is an emergency and the kids need to go with her and they are like wtf and then they meet Harry in Hogsmeade and take a portkey to Coney Island (Hermione is so furious and yells at H/G over this because it's SO childish and irresponsible - Ron is like please don't tell her I went with you she thought I was at work).

It was a difficult undertaking to plan a date night when your boyfriend happened to be the most famous wizard in the entire world. Everywhere they went, the press was sure to follow. And if not the press, then someone would try to tell Harry how amazing he was and ask for an autograph. Either way, if they spent too long in public, Harry would get spotted, and his mood would turn sour.

There was always the Leaky Cauldron—Hannah would ensure they had a private booth. But the Leaky was crowded and noisy and they spend so much time hanging out with friends there it didn't really feel like a date night location.

There were always weekend getaways to Romania to the Dragon Reserve to see Charlie or France with Bill and Fleur. But family trips, while fun, were not romantic.

They'd head out to Muggle London, go to the zoo, and once Harry took her to the movies. But if she was honest, Ginny didn’t understand the hype and much preferred reading her books or listening to stories on the wireless.

Or they’d go out with Hermione and Ron, but again—a date that included brothers was automatically not romantic.

Then there was coordinating their busy schedules. When Ginny didn’t have a game, she was usually training, and now that she was on the national team as well as the Harpies, her schedule was even more hectic.

Harry, of course, was busy not just with Auror training but also various committees to reform the Ministry. He always did his best to spend a day or two a week with Teddy—even if it was just a quick mealtime hello.

That’s why their best dates tended to be quiet ones at home. Just the two of them in the safe sanctuary they had built together. Away from public eyes, dark magic, and intrusive press. They’d play music records—a mix of wizard and Muggle music. Do silly dances while they cooked. Sometimes dinner turned out well, and sometimes they ended up walking to the nearby village to get takeaway when it turned into a disaster. But they had been living together for a couple of years, and Ginny was confident that their cooking was improving.

They’d share a bottle of wine and start a fire. Afterwards, Harry would look at her and ask if she wanted to fly.

She always said yes.

And in the cover of darkness, they’d fly. And they’d be free. It was wonderful—to reach out and touch the stars and have the love of your life hold your hand in return.

[nadinebrooks]

Here is the link to my masterlist. - Here is the link to Part 1.

Fred Weasley x Reader: The Yule Ball Bet Part 2

Warnings: This one has some language (I just feel like the Weasleys don't have the cleanest language) also I know the Yule Ball took place in December, but please don't question the timeline and just enjoy. Thanks!

Ginny Weasley, who had witnessed the confrontation, quickly followed (y/n) out of the Slytherin common room. She found her friend in an empty corridor, sobbing uncontrollably. 

“(y/n),” Ginny said softly, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. You know I would’ve forced him to tell you if I had known.” 

(y/n) clung to Ginny, her heart breaking. “How could he do this to me, Ginny? I thought he cared about me.” 

Ginny’s eyes flashed with anger. “Fred is an idiot, but he does care about you. I’m going to give those boys a piece of my mind.” 

(y/n) nodded, her tears slowing. “Thank you, Ginny.”

Ginny hugged her tightly. “You’re not alone, (y/n). We’ll get through this together.” 

The next day, Ginny stormed into the Gryffindor common room, fury radiating from her. Fred, George, and Ron were sitting by the fire, their expressions grim. 

“How could you?” Ginny yelled, her eyes blazing. She hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas before coming down to confront the boys. “You made a bet out of her, Fred? How could you think that was okay?” 

George and Ron looked equally guilty, but it was Fred who bore the brunt of Ginny’s anger. “She trusted you. She thought you cared about her. You need to fix this, Fred. And you two,” she said, pointing at George and Ron, “are just as much to blame. You encouraged this.” 

Fred felt a deep sense of shame and regret. “I know, Ginny, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.” 

Ginny’s brown eyes softened slightly. “You better Fred. Because if you don’t, you’ll lose her for good.” 

Meanwhile, (y/n) was struggling to come to terms with the betrayal. She confided in Neville, who was furious on her behalf and offered unwavering support. 

“You’re too good for him, (y/n),” Neville said, his voice filled with determination. “Don’t let this break you.” 

(y/n) nodded, drawing strength from her cousin’s words. “I’ll be okay, Neville. I just need some time.” 

As the days passed, Fred tried everything to reach out to (y/n). He wrote letters, left flowers, and attempted to speak with her, but (y/n) wasn’t ready to forgive. The pain was still too fresh, the wound too deep. 

One evening as (y/n) was sitting by the lake, lost in thought, she found another note from Fred tucked into the book that she had recently been reading. It read: 

(y/n),  I am so sorry for everything, I never meant to hurt you. The bet was a mistake, but my feelings for you are real. Please give me a chance to make things right. I love you. Your Freddie 

(y/n)’s heart ached as she read the note. She still cared for Fred, but the betrayal was hard to gorget. She needed more time to heal and to figure out if she could ever trust him again. 

Ginny continued to stand by (y/n)’s side, offering support and encouragement. Over the past couple of weeks, the two girls had become extremely close. So close that Ginny invited (y/n) to spend Christmas with her family at the Burrow. 

Fred wanted to show (y/n) that his feelings were genuine, that he truly cared for her. He knew he had a long way to go, but he was willing to wait as long as it took. 

Despite the turmoil, (y/n) cherished her friendship with Ginny and she couldn’t avoid the Weasley forever, so she decided to agree to spend her Christmas holiday with them. She hoped that the holiday would bring some clarity and peace. 

Upon arriving at the Burrow, (y/n) was warmly welcomed by Molly and Arthur Weasley. The cozy home, filled with love and laughter, provided a sense of comfort. However, the tension between (y/n) and Fred was palpable. 

Arthur, who had heard about the situation from Ginny, took (y/n) aside one evening. “(y/n), I want you to know that we all care about you. Fred made a mistake, a big one, I’m not going to defend him, but I do know that he is genuinely sorry. He’s been miserable without you.” 

(y/n) nodded, her heart heavy. “I know, Mr. Weasley. I’ve been miserable without him as well. I just need time to figure things out.” 

Arthur smiled kindly. “Take all the time you need, dear. We’re here for you.” 

As the days passed, Fred finally managed to get (y/n) alone, away from the prying eyes of his family. They stood in the garden, the crisp winter air swirling around them. 

“(y/n),” Fred began, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I was a fool, and I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment we started spending time together.”

(y/n) looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and longing. “Fred, I still care about you. But this hurts so much. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Fred’s eyes were filled with tears. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just please, I’m begging you, please don’t shut me out completely.” 

(y/n) took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but part of her still believed in the love that they had shared. “I need time, Fred. But I’m willing to try.” 

Fred’s face lit up with hope. “Thank you, (y/n). I promise I’ll make this right.”

The day after Fred’s heartfelt apology, (y/n) woke up to the sound of laughter and the sight of snow gently falling outside her window. She had a feeling that today would be absolutely magical. 

She dressed quickly, her heart lightened by the festive atmosphere, and joined the others for breakfast in the bustling kitchen. 

“Good morning (y/n),” Ginny greeted her with a warm smile. “Ready for some snowman-building?” 

(y/n) smiled back, grateful for Ginny’s unwavering support. “Definitely. It’s the perfect day for it.” 

After breakfast, The Weasleys bundled up and headed outsdie. The garden was covered in a pristine blanket of snow, perfect for their winter activities. Fred was already out there, rolling a large snowball to form the base of the snowman. He glanced up as (y/n) approached, a hopeful smile on his face. 

“Morning, (y/n),” Fred said softly, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and nervousness. “Want to hemp me with this?” 

(y/n) nodded, feeling a flutter in her chest. “Sure, Fred.” 

Together, they worked on the snowman, their hands brushing occasionally as they shaped the snow. Despite the cold, (y/n) felt a warmth spreading through her, fueled by the simple joy of being with Fred. Their silence was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts but content in each other’s presence.

“Hold it steady,” (y/n) giggled, trying to pat the snow into place. 

“I’m trying,” Fred laughed, his cheeks rosy from the cold and exertion. “There, I think we’ve got it.” 

They both stepped back to admire their handiwork. The snowman stood tall and slightly lopsided, with a carrot for a nose and stones for eyes. Fred wrapped his scarf around its neck, adding a final touch.

“Perfect,” (y/n) said, smiling up at Fred. 

“Just like you,” Fred replied softly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her. 

Ginny watched them from a distance, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction seeing her brother and (y/n) slowly mending their bond. As the snowman took shape, she decided to add a little holiday magic of her own. 

Before (y/n) could respond, Ginny appeared beside them, holding a sprig of mistletoe above their heads. “Look what I found,” she said with a grin. 

Fred and (y/n) both looked up, small smiles playing on their lips as they saw the mistletoe. Ginny’s playful smile was infectious, and despite the initial embarrassment, (y/n) felt a surge of courage. 

“Guess we have to follow traditions,” (y/n) said softly, stepping closer to Fred.

Fred’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked into (y/n)’s eyes, the world around them fading away. “I suppose we do.” 

(y/n) leaned in, her lips brushing Fred’s cheek in a gentle, tender kiss. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. It was a sign of forgiveness, of hope, and of the possibility of a new beginning.

Ginny cheered, clapping her hands. “There you go! Now that’s the holiday spirit.” 

As the day wore on, the Weasleys continued their holiday festivities. They built more snowmen, had a snowball fight, and warmed up with hot cocoa by the fire. The house was filled with laughter and love, the perfect backdrop for healing hearts. 

That evening, as the family gathered around the Christmas tree, (y/n) found herself sitting next to Fred. The tree was decorated with twinkling lights and colorful ornaments, and the room was filled with the comforting scent of pine and cinnamon. 

Fred turned to (y/n), his voice soft. “Can we talk for a minute?”

(y/n) nodded, her heart beating a little faster. “Sure, Fred.” 

They slipped away from the others, finding a quiet corner in the cozy living room. Fred took a deep breath, his expression serious but filled with emotion. 

“(y/n), I know I’ve hurt you deeply, and I’ll never forgive myself for that,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “But I want you to know that my feelings for you are real. They’ve always been real. I’ve fallen for you, (y/n), and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.” 

(y/n) looked at Fred, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She felt the walls around her heart begin to crumble, replaced by cautious hope. “Fred, it’s going to take time for me to fully trust you again. But I am willing to try.” 

“I’ll wait as long as it takes. I promise I won’t let you down again.” His face lit up with relief and happiness. 

“Let’s take it one day at a time, then.” 

Fred happily nodded. “One day at a time.” 

The evening continued with the exchange of gifts and stories. Laughter echoed through the Burrow, filling every corner with joy. As the night wore on, (y/n) found herself sitting by the fire with Ginny, their earlier conversation coming to mind. 

“Thank you, Ginny,” (y/n) said softly, taking Ginny’s hand. “For everything.” 

Ginny smiled, her eyes twinkling. “That’s what friends are far. And besides, I couldn’t let my brother mess things up completely.” 

“I’m glad I have you in my corner.” (y/n) laughed, feeling a warmth in her heart. 

“And I’m glad you’re in ours,” Ginny replied, giving (y/n) a hug. 

Fred watched two of the most important women in his life getting along. He knew that it was going to be a long haul, but he was willing to do whatever it took for (y/n). 

She glanced around the room before her eyes met his. She smiled and him and his heart started rapidly beating. 

“Merry Christmas Freddie,” she mouthed before turning her attention back to Ginny. Yes, it was a very Merry Christmas indeed. 

[saintsenara]

Crackships Fleur edition: Fleur/Nymphadora Tonks ; Fleur/Goyle ; Fleur/Greyback. ; Fleur/Ginny ; Fleur/Peeves

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

fleur delacour/nymphadora tonks

this also got a shoutout from other mystery anons:

i love a bit of flonks!

for the semi-serious reason that i think their incredibly divergent personal aesthetics make for an entertaining time all round.

and for the actually serious reason that i think you can do so much with their shared experience of moving through the world in bodies which are treated like curiosities and which aren't always taken seriously by the people they live and work alongside - especially since tonks and fleur's response to the general condescension they receive is to... not really give a fuck, and to continue to be arrogant and confident and unapologetic in how they present themselves.

it's hot.

fleur delacour/gregory goyle

come on now.

while fleur clearly doesn't mind spending an evening with a man who can't string a sentence together - hence why she takes roger davies to the yule ball - if he's prepared to splash the cash, she's clearly physically picky enough that anyone who looks like goyle is completely invisible to her.

fleur delacour/fenrir greyback

fleur is undoubtedly a woman possessed of both the nerve to go and scream at greyback for what he did to bill.

which might not have the result she was expecting, since greyback clearly has a bit of a thing for haughty, furious women - which is why he gets so twitchy around bellatrix in deathly hallows...

fleur delacour/ginny weasley

ginny spending most of half-blood prince acting up about how fleur thinks she’s so hot and so interesting is definitely giving bisexual awakening.

fleur letting ginny wear a really low-cut dress at her wedding - and not being bothered in the slightest that this results in ginny’s rack being given a shoutout to the entire congregation by muriel - is also giving bisexual and interested.

i back it.

fleur delacour/peeves

“Zis is nothing,” she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we ’ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course... zey are like ’uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we ’ave choirs of wood nymphs, ’oo serenade us as we eat. We ’ave none of zis ugly armor in ze ’alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, ’e would be expelled like zat.”

it's giving enemies-to-lovers.

[loneamaryllis]

Merry Christmas @racfoam ! Here's a small gift for you!

A scene from a Harrymort AU where Harrie sold herself to Voldemort in exchange for peace.

"Look up."

The words were whispered in her ear, a sinuous demand that wound its barbed coils tight around her throat. She complied, helpless against the command, her eyes flicking up.

There, hanging from the ceiling, was a bouquet of mistletoe. Vibrant green leaves, white fruits dotted around the bulk of the plant, and a red ribbon.

Fuck.

Harrie tried to run.

Large hands clamped down on her shoulders, pinning her in place.

"You know what that means," Voldemort said, with a softness that belied the steel strength of his grip.

"No."

It didn't mean anything, because he couldn't force her into it. That was one of the few safeguards of the contract binding her to him. She had to obey most of his orders, but she was free to ignore anything regarding physical intimacy. He couldn't make her kiss him.

"It's tradition, Harrie."

"I'll make a new tradition. Stand under the mistletoe, punch you in your noseless face."

He chuckled, and the sound trailed down her spine like a ribbon of smooth silk.

"Still so fierce. You've been mine for six months now, and you haven't lost your fire."

She gnawed into her lower lip, unable to deny it. She was his. She had signed that contract and given herself to him, and in exchange, he had halted his attempts at taking over wizarding Britain. He no longer threatened Muggles and Muggle-borns. There was peace—at the cost of her freedom.

"One kiss," he said, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Just... one kiss."

She swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. Something was churning in her stomach. Disgust, that was disgust—disgust when she pictured his snake-like face, the pale skin, the slits he had for nostrils, and those unnatural red eyes that always pierced right through her.

Yes, disgust only, she told herself, resolutely ignoring the low, cramping pull in her belly.

People were watching.

This was a party, after all—a Yule celebration—and there were guests from both sides. Death Eaters mingled with members of the Order of the Phoenix, while a few international guests were present as well. The orchestra was playing, and people were talking and mingling around the buffet, half of them oblivious to the mistletoe situation. The other half was looking at her and Voldemort.

The Malfoys were watching, all three of them, identical gray eyes on her. Snape was watching, from halfway across the room, a glass of Champagne in his hand as he stared at her, gaunt features set in a blank mask. Her friends—Ron, Hermione, Ginny—were watching, and they looked furious, but there was nothing they could do. Coming to her rescue would violate the terms of the contract, and Harrie had made it clear to them that—

—that she'd chosen this. That it was worth it. That she wanted it.

Another pulse of heat tugged at her core.

The bastard was keeping the soul bond wide open, wielding it as a weapon against her. His desire flowed toward her like a torrent, the water accumulating fast. Her mental wall wobbled.

He wanted a kiss? Fine. He would get a kiss.

Turning around, she grabbed him by the lapels of his stupid suit, tugged him down, and smashed her lips to his.

A solar flare of desire erupted between them. Voldemort let out a predatory growl and opened his mouth, his forked tongue flicking out. Harrie growled back.

Then she bit him.

Her incisors sank into his thin bottom lip, and the bitter flavor of his blood burst onto her tongue. She huffed in triumph, drawing back. He didn't let her move away. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers knotting in her hair, and he pressed their mouths together with ravenous greed, his tongue plunging between her lips.

Blood.

Blood and fire—she was burning, burning for him.

A final lick of that prehensile tongue against her own, and he let her go.

She hurriedly stepped back, her heart racing. Glaring at him, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face felt too hot, her knickers too damp.

"What a delightful surprise," he said, with a sly grin. "My lioness has claws."

"That's all you'll get out of me."

His crimson eyes flared like a sunset. He lifted a finger to his mouth and casually ran it across his lips, before licking the blood with a swipe of tongue that was frankly obscene.

"That is all I wanted for now, Harrie."

She turned her back on him and lied to herself, twice. She pretended she wasn't running away.

And she pretended she hadn't liked that kiss.

[curtsycream]

Anything For You, Beautiful

Hermione Granger x F!Reader

warning: not proofread, my take on a James x Lily trope for Golden Era, snapshots of Hermione x F!Reader, slightly James coded (father like daughter)

“There she is! The brilliant beauty after my own heart,” she called out.

Hermione frowned the second she stepping into the Great Hall. She had a feeling it was coming it always did as Y/N Potter called out to her. The bespectacled girl had been doing so since their first year at Hogwarts.

“Quiet Potter,” Hermione uttered when she sat down between Harry and Ron. Y/N could only raise her hands in defense as her smile widened.

“Whatever the Misses wants,” she mused before eating a piece of toast.

As Hermione moved her hand to grab some food Y/N pushed her hand away. She rolled her eyes at the Potter when she noticed the plate in front of her. “How do you even know I want this for breakfast?”

“Silly question from a brilliant girl, you eat the same thing every morning, noon, and night. We’ve been over this many times before, beautiful.”

Hermione wanted to be upset but she couldn’t, Y/N knew her like the back of her hand. Rolling her eyes she went ahead and ate what Y/N prepared on her plate.

“I’ll be taking that,” Y/N said grabbing Hermione’s books with a smile.

“I thought I got rid of you already,” Hermione commented. She held no bitterness in her tone as she watched the spectacled girl carry her things.

“Did you really think a wall of first years would keep me from you? My heart yearns for you, Granger.”

The loud declaration from Y/N caused Hermione to place a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as she looked around noticing a few people staring. Those used to Y/N’s antics simply shrugged it off. “What did I say about doing that?” Hermione hissed out.

Y/N’s words were muffled by Hermione’s as she spoke leading her to remove her hand. With a wink in Hermione’s direction she shrugged, “you tell me lots of things that I don’t listen to. We both know I’ll always do what I want in the end.”

“You’re so insufferable!”

Y/N watched the curly haired girl storm off to her next class without looking back. Keeping her hold on the girl’s books she shook her head, “and you’ll be the death of me..” she muttered to herself.

“Where is she?”

Y/N was frantic as she walked into the Gryffindor common room. Her eyes soon landing on Hermione being consoled by Luna and Ginny. She didn’t waste time making her way over to them. She got down on her knees as she sat in front of Hermione who was curled up on the recliner.

“Hey..hey look at me, you know he’s just a loose mouthed twat,” she whispered softly.

“But it doesn’t hurt any less knowing that he’s-“

“If you say he’s right I’m going to loose my mind.”

“But he is, I’m a-“

“Wonderful, brilliant, and beautiful woman who is beyond Malfoy in every way, shape, and form. That much is simple,” Y/N had a smile on her face as she spoke Hermione’s praise.

Sitting up Hermione began to smile herself before she noticed Y/N’s hands. “What the hell happened?”

“I gave him a piece of my mind though it seems I think with my fists,” she chuckled as Hermione started to fuss over her. But she didn’t mind anything for her.

“POTTER!”

Hermione turns to a chuckling Y/N beside her who couldn’t take her eyes off of the now green haired Malfoy. “I just thought he could use a change, he’s a Slytherin I thought they liked green?”

When Draco set his eyes on Y/N he made his way towards her. He was quick but Y/N was quicker was she stood from the table. Placing her hands on Hermione’s shoulders she pecks her cheek, “eat all of it.” She said before dashing off around the table and out of the Great Hall a furious Draco right on her tail.

“You’d think after the first five years she would learn to stop,” Ron said as he ate.

“Trust me, if it involves Hermione stopping is something she simply can not do,” Harry said speaking up for his sister.

Hermione drowned out their words as a blush spread across her face. Her eyes on her plate of food Y/N handed her moments before Draco entered the Great Hall. Maybe it was the genuine care Y/N had for her or the idea that she was slowly falling in love. Either way she was hooked…

Can you tell I have a crush on Hermione? Also I wanted to replicate the way James was for Lily with Y/N. I think it’s cute

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 27

WARNINGS: passionate kissing

You struggle to keep up as Fred and George tug you through the halls of Hogwarts castle.

"Slow down!" you pant.

"We can't! We're losing daylight," the twins say together, still pulling you along.

"It's only 1:30," you huff under your breath.

Eventually, the three of you reach the Quidditch stadium field. At once, Fred and George call out, "Accio Cleansweep!" Seconds later, two broomsticks seem to come out of nowhere and into the twins' open hands.

Fred turns to George and asks, "D'you think Ginny would mind if we borrowed her broomstick?"

"Not if we said it was for y/n to use," George responds.

You shake your head. "No, don't bother. I can't fly on my own."

"Really?" George says. "But you must've taken Madam Hooch's flying class during your first year."

"I did, but I barely passed," you chuckle, embarrassed to admit it. "I don't trust myself to be so high up. I get all shaky."

"Wow! Finally, something that y/n isn't good at!" Fred exclaims.

You roll your eyes and shove his arm playfully.

"So you've got a fear of heights?" George asks disappointedly.

"No, no," you quickly clarify, shaking your head. "That's not it. If anything, I love the view more than anyone. I even enjoy a good climbing tree here and there. I just... Let's just say I can depend on my smarts more than I can my athletic skills," you laugh. Fred and George smile at this, causing you to become bashful, but you quickly shake it off. "I'm alright if I'm flying with someone who knows what they're doing."

"Well, you're in luck, y/n!" says Fred. "Because we know exactly what we're doing." Both twins mount their brooms. You watch in awe as Fred takes off, using his long legs to push himself from the ground and into the air. He hovers about ten feet away, waiting for you and George to join him.

"Come on then!" George encourages. He scoots forward on his broom and excitedly pats the open space behind him in invitation.

You take in a deep breath. "Okay."

You nervously move to sit behind George, your heart beat quickening as you wrap your arms around his waist. You can't help but acknowledge how strong his torso feels.

"Try not to enjoy this too much," George says jokingly, though you're half-certain he must've read your mind.

"I was about to tell you the same thing," you gingerly laugh. You're glad that George can't see your furious blushing, but Fred can. He grins knowingly down at you, and you hide behind George in humiliation.

George chuckles. "Ready?"

"I haven't done this in years, so please start slow," you plead, tightening your hold on him.

"Sure thing," he replies. He steadies his feet flat on the ground and you shut your eyes tight. You anticipate the jerk of the lift off, but for a moment too long you don't feel anything.

"Open your eyes, y/n," you hear one of the twins say.

You open your eyes to see Fred floating alongside you. He smiles cheerily. You look down at the green field far below and gasp, clinging to George in fear. The twins laugh.

"Careful now. Hug me any tighter and I won't be able to breath," George wheezes exaggeratedly.

"Sorry," you apologize, loosening your hold around his waist.

Fred snorts. "He's not."

You laugh and George shamelessly shrugs.

You watch anxiously as Fred soars away. He spins around to fly upside down and performs loop-de-loops for your entertainment. You start to let go of George to applaud, but quickly catch yourself and grab George's waist once more.

"That was brilliant, Fred!" you yell.

George looks over his shoulder to grin at you. "Would you like to try that?" he asks.

"No!" you instantly shout. You clear your throat. "No, thank you," you finish sheepishly.

"Alrighty then," George chortles. "We'll just cruise for a bit."

You hold on tight as George gradually takes you higher in a wide spiral. He stops once you're level with Hogwarts' astronomy tower. The view of the castle, the rippling lake, and the surrounding mountains from so high up takes your breath away.

"Wow... how beautiful," you sigh in amazement.

"Not as beautiful as you," both twins say in unison as Fred flies up to float at your side once more.

"Aw, thank you, guys," you giggle, grinning at Fred. You rest your head on George's back and give him an affectionate squeeze. You feel his muscles relax as he sighs happily.

In that moment, you are so utterly content. You close your eyes peacefully and feel the cold wind on your face. You can hear the faint sound of birds chirping in the trees down below. You inhale the smell of honey and redwood coming off of George's sweater. And with the twins so near, there's nothing else that could make you happier.

The word "love" forms in your mind, and you can almost feel it forming on your tongue, but you force yourself to remain silent. You still wonder if it's too soon to confess, even if your feelings are obvious.

Without speaking another word, Fred flies forward towards the lake. You and George follow at a slower speed. You lean to the side to see past George and watch as Fred dips down, barely missing the edge of the trees before reaching the lakeshore. George does the same, though he descends gently.

You fly over the lake, so close to the water's surface. George reaches out with one hand and strokes the small waves, splashing droplets in your direction. You squeal in surprise.

"Hey!" you laugh, and George laughs with you.

You and George follow behind Fred as he soars higher into the sky, up, around, and over Hogwarts castle. You realize that you've never felt so free. You start to holler with gladness and the twins join in. The three of you whoop, cheer, and laugh. But soon you feel your fingers freezing up in the rushing, winter air, and you sadly request that George bring you to the ground.

You and George land back in the quidditch field with Fred not far behind. After managing to get off the broom without tipping over, you move to George on wobbly legs.

In your extreme happiness, you throw yourself onto him, pulling George into a passionate kiss. He's caught by surprise at first, but soon drops his broom and returns the gesture with even more passion. He crushes your body to his, his lips moving against yours with an overwhelming ferocity. You almost believe you're going to faint until you spot Fred dismounting his broom. You finish your kiss with George forcefully, leaving him gasping for air, before running to Fred.

Fred has already tossed his broom to the side and welcomes you with a joyful grin and open arms. You leap, and he catches you in a bear hug. You crash your lips to his and he responds accordingly, moving perfectly in sync. You cup his face with both of your ice-cold hands, but he doesn't care. He holds you like he'll never get to hold you again, clutching your waist so tight that you eventually can't breathe. You reluctantly break the heavy kiss, and, after a moment of both of you panting in recovery, Fred sets you down.

George has come to join the two of you, and you give both of the twins one more quick hug and kiss.

"George," you say after pulling away. "Fred..." You can't hold back the strong emotions inside of you. "I think... I think I love—"

"Weasley! Y/l/n!" a sickeningly familiar voice rings throughout the stadium, and the three of you freeze in place. You slowly turn around, dread welling up in your stomach, to find that the voice belongs to none other than Professor Umbridge.

[takeariskao3]

ALREADY HERE

so @brightlybound asked what already gone would be like with the roles reversed, to which i replied "don't give me more fic ideas!" but i couldn't stop the brain rot and this happened anyway. thanks for all the love brightly!!! you yelling about already gone h/g has been an endless source of joy and cackling <333 i've written this little crack au just for you and it is appropriately titled already here

---

Harry sat up a little straighter in his hospital bed as the door to his room opened and a slight figure, with waist length red hair, slipped into the room. Ron and Hermione were arguing about something over the top of his legs, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He thought it had something to do with Ernie MacMillan, but now they were going on about Magical Games and Sports and he couldn't be bothered to play catch up.

Ginny didn't acknowledge any of them, and went straight over to the Healer station to read through the latest additions to Harry's chart. For the shortest of moments, a little pang of annoyance reverberated through his chest, then he remembered that Ginny was now his wife, and was free to peruse his medical history as she pleased.

Wife.

She was his wife.

No one had told him how it happened. His days-long bout of unconsciousness, after he'd found out about Sirius, had everyone pretty tight lipped with further details. It was maddening to know little snippets of how his life at twenty-one looked, and yet have absolutely no context for how he'd gotten there.

"I'm telling you," Ron declared loudly. "He started in chess before getting promoted. He never worked in International Cooperation."

"Yes, he did!" Hermione shot back, her tone bordering on furious. "Because I had to work with him on that export of illegal chimera cubs!"

Ron shook his head and looked ready to let loose another retort but Harry cut him off.

"Can-" He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on Ginny, who in turn, still had her gaze firmly fixed on the parchment in her hands. "Can I talk to Ginny for a moment?"

She glanced around to meet his stare, her brown eyes sharp and a little furrow appearing above her nose. On either side of him, Ron and Hermione exchanged a silent conversation made up of raised eyebrows and shrugs. They must've come to some sort of consensus however, because they both stood at the same time and Ron murmured a quick, "We'll go get tea."

Ginny maintained her wary expression as Hermione gave her shoulder a little squeeze then ducked past her. Ron followed soon after, shutting the door behind him and then they were alone. Alone for the first time since Harry had awoken to find his limbs too long, his friends almost unrecognizable, and the only family he'd ever known to be dead.

Sliding Harry's paperwork back into its slot, Ginny made a show of crossing her arms and frowning at where he sat on the bed. He hardly wanted to have this conversation tucked into the bedsheets like an invalid, so he tugged the blankets aside and moved to stand.

"Don't-" she murmured with a pleading edge to her voice. She'd taken two steps closer in the time it'd taken him to swing his feet around to the side.

Harry huffed impatiently and scowled back at her. "Last I checked, my head was causing all the problems. Not my legs."

Her hard gaze didn't waver, and she apparently didn't consider this statement worthy of a response.

He stayed sitting anyway.

"I have questions," he began.

"I expect you do." Ginny leaned into another step, with her arms still crossed and her eyes flicking down to her feet. "That doesn't mean I have to answer them."

The annoyance he'd felt earlier shifted and heated into full blown irritation. "If you think I'm going to be alright laying here and eating casseroles-"

Ginny spoke over his outburst before he'd even picked up steam. "You're going to have to be."

Harry narrowed his eyes and decided if she could ignore his assertions then he was well within his rights to disregard hers.

"We were... friends," he struggled uselessly, trying, and failing, to ask his first question somewhat delicately. "What changed?"

Her throat bobbed, like it was difficult to swallow even though the look on her face remained impassive.

Harry couldn't stand it. "What changed!?"

Blinking a few times, her reserved mask slipped and her eyes turned blazing.

"Nothing!?" Ginny threw her hands into the air impatiently. "Everything!? But I'm sure as hell not going to sit here and try to prove myself to you!"

Turning on her heel, she stormed toward the door, and cool regret leaked into his bloodstream. He shouldn't have let his own composure slip.

Harry stood and lunged after her.

"Wait-" His hand closed around her elbow just as she reached for the doorknob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just..."

He trailed off, unsure exactly of what he was trying to say. Ginny kept her back to him and he heard her pull in a shaky breath.

Errantly, like a stray thought, Harry observed just how petite she was. Ginny had always been quite short, but Harry also had a lingering malnourishment to him, so he'd never thought much of their difference in size.

Until now, when he stood next to her nearly a full head taller.

His fingers tightened around her arm in question. She turned enough that he could see the look on her face, and the unshed tears clinging to her lashes.

He let go in an instant, guilt and discomfort spearing through him like a lance.

"I'm sorry," he said again, taking a step back toward his hospital bed.

She swiped at her eyes in clear fury and Harry couldn't tell if it was directed at him or that fact that he'd seen her cry.

Maybe both?

"It's not an easy story to tell," she said eventually. "And I'm not getting into it when you've only been conscious again for a day and half."

Harry nodded, not really registering her words as much as the clear worry that shadowed her face.

A beat too late, he realized she was waiting for a response and he rushed, "Yeah, okay."

Ginny nodded once, her hard exterior replacing the momentary show of vulnerability. Harry stood watching her, scratching a loose thread in the sleeve of his patient robes and waiting for her to leave.

She didn't.

Instead, after a few moments of glaring at him, her shoulders slumped in time with her exhale and her face twisted into agony. He only had a split second warning before she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his ribs.

Harry stood quite stunned for a second, at a complete loss for what to do next.

Thankfully, Ginny didn't allow him to remain clueless. With her face buried in his chest, she choked out a muffled, "Hug me you idiot."

He muttered another quick apology and did as instructed.

Not seeming to mind that his hold around her shoulders was stiff, she clung to him without reservation as her breath hitched with more unshed tears.

Harry had not been the source of much comfort in his life, at least in the parts of his life he could still remember, but Ginny seemed to be receiving some kind of ease anyway. Little by little, he relaxed into it, into the feel of her tucked into his embrace, into her hands fisted in the robes at his back, and the scent of her wildflower hair.

Time stretched, and it could've been several minutes or several hours for all the attention he was paying the clock on the wall.

Ultimately, however, Ginny's hold did loosen and she sucked in a shuddering sigh as both their arms dropped back to their sides.

She stared up at him, her expression a bit sheepish, but also with a hint of something so unapologetic, he wondered if it wasn't so much her feelings in that moment as much as it was her constant state of being.

"I guess I'm not coping as well as I thought." She sniffed, wiping her eyes and shooting him a self deprecating grin.

Then Harry realized she was pretty.

No, that wasn't right. She'd always been rather pretty, but in a girlish, innocent type of way.

The Ginny that stood before him now was stunning. Shining copper hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. Freckles dusted her cheeks and nose, etching constellations down to her neck and collarbones. While her bright amber eyes were lit from within by a fire that looked like it could burn the world down three times over if she had the inclination.

"Do-" Harry began in some lame attempt at making amends. "Do you want to stay? We don't have to talk!" he added quickly. "Or we could talk about something else? But I understand if you don't want to talk at all. Really, either works for me. Talking, or not talking, I mean-"

This startled a laugh out of her and Harry felt a deep rooted elation take hold at being the cause of such a thing.

"If you say 'talk' one more time," she said in reply, "I'm going to throw myself in the river."

Harry blinked. "What river?"

She breathed out a chuckle, but she couldn't hide the trace of sadness that pinched the corners of her eyes.

"Do you think we could..." she hesitated, and Harry noticed her twist a thin gold band around her finger. "Just for a little while longer?"

Harry's eyes blurred a bit at the edges, a new emotion gripping his lungs as he took in her hopeless expression.

He nodded, and with a relieved sigh, she folded herself into him once more. Prepared for it this time, he tucked his chin on the top of her head and let the swirling flowery scent of her engulf his senses.

He'd committed it to memory long before she let go.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

April 12: Argue

Day 12 of @hinnymicrofic

She’s arguing with her mother, equal parts terrified and furious, trying to get her to see reason, when she feels him walk up behind them. 

Their reunion certainly isn’t what she’d fantasized about since he left - Harry’s only looked at her once since she arrived. Rather than happy, he’d looked haunted to see her, like the very sight of her struck fear into his heart. 

He appears older, though she can’t pinpoint what about him has aged. Perhaps it’s that he holds himself like an adult, now, commanding some sort of attention and respect without asking for it. But the dark circles beneath his eyes and the frequent journey his hands take through his hair points to a bone deep exhaustion and a steep toll that the past year has taken.

She needs to fight with her family, with him. Her mother can’t possibly fail to understand that, can she? 

On some level, she recognizes the vague innocence her mother is trying to protect, some ideal notion that children ought not to be involved in wars. Well, they ought not to be, but they are. Ginny is involved. Has been since she was 11, despite the fact that her family seems to conveniently forget it at every opportunity.

Ginny hasn’t forgotten.

The delusion of protecting her from any of this should have been abandoned at the first drop of ink in that cursed diary. How can they expect her to sit back, to watch as everyone she loves puts themselves in danger to fight a battle that is more personal to her than to any of them?

But Mum’s still telling her no, and you can’t, and you’re too young, like fighting a war would be a more reasonable thing to do in three month’s time, so Ginny turns to Harry, hoping to find an ally - that he’ll understand better than anyone the need to act, to protect. 

She meets his gaze and her heart sinks into the floor.

He’s looking at her like he’s a marionette and she’s the last string holding him upright, and then he shakes his head.

She only turns away from him when the tears sting.

She can’t believe he’s asking this of her, but it’s the asking that does it. His eyes aren’t saying no; they’re saying please. He’s not telling her she’s incapable, or she’s too young for this; he’s simply begging her to stay out of it. She resents the way she can read his every thought, because perhaps if she couldn’t, if she loved him less, then she could have ignored his silent plea: I can’t do this if you’re here.

His appeal works where no one else’s would have; she’s made friends with the fear in his eyes, has lived with hers since he disappeared from the wedding. She accepts it; doesn’t argue any further. He has a job to do, after all.

He’d better go and do it, then, and come back to her. Because she needs to tell him afterward that it isn’t fucking fair that he’s begged her to protect his heart while hers is pumping frantically in the palm of his hand.