unabashedlygrumpy

[unabashedlygrumpy]

are you ever scrolling through tumblr and you have a thought and immediately lose it so you have to scroll back up to give your brain the conditions under which it originally created the thought so you can bring it back

[unabashedlygrumpy]

Me: [waking up at 3 a.m. in the morning, eyes bloodshot] Vampires described as pale, elegant, but also very strong, leaping with predatory feline grace when hunting or fighting. Bella being put in ballet classes as a child by her mother. The climax taking place in a ballet studio.

Twilight as a ballet, Twilight as a ballet, TWILIGHT AS A BALLET—

[unabashedlygrumpy]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[unabashedlygrumpy]

I was reading some of your past metas and you mentioned that in MS Edward comes across as insecure physically in comparison to Emmett and Jasper. Could you give some examples of this? This was something I hadn't noticed.

The post anon's referencing.

So, to be fair, Edward never blatantly says as much, however, he has some very damning moments. That make it seem that Edward... has some issues when it comes to where he lines up physically with the rest of the Cullens as well as the role he wants to play.

Especially when it comes to Emmett and especially Jasper.

Edward Constantly Insists He's the Protector of the Family

If you read Midnight Sun Edward is constantly reminding the reader, and thus himself, of how important he is. Without him, the family would be in constant danger. Alice scans the future, Edward looks for signs of suspicion among the human populace.

Edward never acknowledges that this is paranoid and ridiculous.

Carlisle spent hundreds of years without Edward doing just fine in this regard.

More, it'll be intellgence from Alice that's damning, not Edward.

Edward has to be in range and paying some amount of attention to pick up a damning thought. Edward clarifies his range is only about two miles or so, it's not very far. If someone across town realizes that the Cullens are vampires, Edward will have no idea.

Alice, on the other hand, will see if they decide to take action that will affect the family. More, barring unusual circumstances (i.e. Edward in Biology the day she's hyperfocusing on Jasper), she'll see if the family fucks up.

In other words, Edward has to be in the right place, at the right time, tuning in when someone happens to be thinking a damning thought vs. "Oh god, do I want pork or chicken in my burrito bowl? WHAT DO I CHOOSE?!" And even then, he'll only get supporting evidence for Alice.

Edward brings absolutely nothing to the table with Alice in the picture.

Yet, Edward insists, he is every bit of important. Without him, the family is doomed. When he can't read Bella's mind it's a complete disaster because then he can't do his very important job of scanning these teenagers' minds for threats.

Edward and Emmett

It goes beyond his telepathy though.

Edward also insists he's a physical protector of the family.

When Alice and Jasper first arrived, he remarked to himself that it was clear they had timed it for when Edward and Emmett, the protectors of the family, were not present. He congratulates them on their cunning.

It is far more likely they timed it for when Emmett was not present, as he's rash and huge, Edward is a toothpick and one who, per his gift, would be able to see no ill intentions from either.

But god forbid Edward not be taken seriously as a threat.

Emmett might be strong and huge but, uh, EDWARD IS FAST. Edward makes sure to point this out, he acknowledges his lack of physical prowess, but he is the fastest!

And if he doesn't wrestle with the guys, well then, wrestling is beneath him.

Just the sheer amount Edward keeps inserting himself into situations with Emmett (he and Emmett protect the family), he's very fast, etc. speaks of a real inferiority complex here.

Remember, this is Edward remind himself, he's not talking to anyone else. This is just how he thinks. He walks along, la di da, I AM IMPORTANT AND MANLY!

The Mountain Lion Thing

Sure, apparently predators taste better, but Edward also says and implies it's because of the hunt part. Emmett likes getting revenge on bears, it's... a thing.

Edward likes hunting other predators.

Keep in mind, Edward is much faster and stronger than these other predators, he's still swatting flies. What's important is that it screams like an action designed to make him feel especially manly.

Edward eats them because they're strong and they're fast, and he's strong and fast, in fact he's stronger and faster.

Real Men (TM) eat mountain lions.

(Delicate men like Carlisle who must be protected eat deer.)

Edward's Hatred of Jasper

Edward despises Jasper. Part of this is where Jasper came from, how he lived, and how different he is from the others. Part of it is Jasper's lack of control, a contempt that is increased ten-fold when Bella enters the picture and Jasper becomes one of the largest unintentional threats to her.

But I think part of it is that Jasper is very confident in his abilities and physically intimidating.

He's a very lean man, but he's older and more filled out than Edward (courtesy of Bella's introductory glance). More than that, he's been through many, many, fights and won every single one of them. He's still here when many in his position would not be.

Jasper by far has the most fighting expertise of all of them and, if I fight breaks out, Jasper is the one who should take over strategy.

Edward hates that.

When James comes into the picture, Jasper is completely left out of all decision making. He gets the joys of babysitting Bella (then presumably he and Alice decide to let Bella make a run for it behind Edward's back). With Victoria's Army, he's allowed to be in charge, but Edward is throwing fits left and right.

More, Edward has a very damning conversation with Bella.

Bella's at the clearing with everybody, watching Jasper explain how to fight newborns with ease and confidence. And Edward interjects, "I could beat Jasper, you know."

He has no reason to do this, it didn't really have to be said, and it doesn't really bring anything to the conversation. He just has to let Bella know that Edward's the best fighter in the Cullens, Edward's impressive, he reads mind.

(That his fight with Victoria is then essentially slap fighting and desperate monologuing is a hilariousness lost on both Edward and Bella.)

But rather than sit quietly and let Jasper do his thing, for even two seconds, Edward has to insist that he is a very competent physical fighter. And better than Jasper, who survived hell on earth for decades.

But Does Edward Ever Outright Say He's Bitter?

No, because that would be admitting Edward has a problem. Edward's a Real Man (TM).

[unabashedlygrumpy]

timewarp!twilight: a time travel au

[throughout the series, Bella Swan has prophetic dreams that reveal her future (or present predicament) in cryptic ways. but tho Bella can peek forward in time, her true power lies in the past.]

time first unzips when James sinks his teeth into Bella at the ballet studio.

the burning in her veins overwhelms her. for a delirious moment she seizes from venom & bleeds out on a hospital room's tile floor where her mother is giving birth. to her.

the Cullens barge into the studio. Bella's writhing on the ground. they never see the warp. a stunned James is defeated.

Bella says nothing, chalking it up to a near-death experience. ofc she can't unravel the fabric of time lol like what?? who does that???

over summer, night terrors haunt her when Edward is away.

the "good" dreams give her flashes of the future. wolves. light. cliffs. a stone antechamber. red hair. a casket.

it's the nightmares she fears the most.

her PTSD-fueled flashbacks feel so real, she unzips time to escape James's attack & wakes up in random places as if sleepwalking.

at first they're tiny jumps. a few minutes back. then several months before she meets Edward. then the day Renee leaves Charlie with Bella in tow.

the night after her disastrous birthday party, her nightmare dumps her in the back alley of a neon-lit diner.

this isn't home. not 2006, not 1996, not 1986, even...

disoriented, she stumbles in and sits at the counter. the folded newspaper by the napkin dispenser, the Philadelphia Herald, reads March 3rd, 1950.

oh god.

when she looks up, a familiar pixie-haired vampire stares back at her with moony gold eyes.

"you've kept me waiting a long time," says Alice, pushing a plate of pancakes toward her.

time zips. back in bed. morning. 2006. Bella scrambles to school to tell Edward about the time skips.

ofc, it's hard to speak when you're being sucker-punched in the gut by your first love's painful breakup monologue.

instead of confessing, Bella says goodbye.

October. November. December. January.

as the wolves shift and Laurent stops in for a visit snack, Forks gets all gunked up with paranormal vibes. Bella warps further back for longer periods. 1935. 1933. 1911. 1863.

luckily, she often crosses paths with the Cullens. as humans, she knows, they won't remember her. it's cathartic to see them, if only for a few moments...but it's never enough.

she pulls increasingly dangerous stunts to keep traveling. motorcycling. chasing wolves. stalking vampires. on & on.

Bella dives off a cliff to chase the visions.

she smacks the water & warps to 1918.

human Edward Masen immediately falls in love with a drenched & shivering Bella Swan. over the evening, she falls in love with him. again. ugh.

but was it a time skip, or a near-death experience? she wakes up coughing water, Jake breathing life into her on the beach.

Alice returns. with a renewed love for Edward (ugh), Bella jets off to Italy to save him & meet the Volturi.

back in forks, the vote ignites a fiery rage she'd buried for months.

how could they do this to her? how could they break her heart & leave her behind when she needed them?? did they even stop to think about Laurent??? the wolves?! VICTORIA?!!

just as she lunges for Edward to rip his stupid face off, time unzips in front of them & she vanishes.

further back than she's ever gone.

London. 1640s.

human Carlisle tries using a silver cross to defend himself against a starving vampire while Bella looks on.

when the vampire's eyes find hers, the horror of what Bella has been doing settles in like a dense fog.

with each time skip, Bella seals their fate.

not only is Bella the thread that ties the Cullens together in time, but Bella aligns the stars for every member to become a vampire.

in the 1640s, she is the scent that pulls the starving vampire away from Carlisle.

in 1863, María sees Bella's warp & pursues her until she finds confederate Jasper Hale on his way to Galveston.

in 1911, her time skip startles 16 y.o. Esme out of a tree, breaking the girl's leg. she is treated by Dr. Cullen.

in 1918, a cold & wet Bella gives Edward the flu.

in 1933, Carlisle spots Bella on his way home from the hospital & finds her so eerily familiar he calls out & rushes to catch up. frightened by the commotion, Royce et al leave a dying Rosalie in the street.

in 1935, warping into a forest pisses off a huge black bear. Emmett saves her & subsequently gets mauled.

in 1950, she listens to Alice tell the story of her only human memory: prophesizing as a little girl about the "lady in the blue jeans" who comes to visit, to the horror & disgust of her superstitious parents. they throw her in an insane asylum.

now, in 2006, she reappears & falls at the Cullens' feet. her face reflects their looks of shock.

it was her. it was always her.

& all because she ditched Alice & Jasper to confront James at the ballet studio.

"oh god," she whispers from the floor in a broken voice. tears blur her vision. Bella looks up at the family of vampires. "i think i've made a terrible mistake."

[unabashedlygrumpy]

jerry and elaine this kramer and newman that what about them huh . what about the real best duo of seinfeld .

[unabashedlygrumpy]

I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT BRIDE WARS! It’s literally a gem of a movie! Also, thank god Emma didn’t end up with Fletcher

[unabashedlygrumpy]

My babies 😍

[unabashedlygrumpy]

Say what you want about Bride Wars 2009...I'm sure I would if I watched it now.

But young me absolutely loved the idea that your best friend could be your soulmate.

No other film made me feel that the love for your friends could be so important, and that this love was just as valuable as one you could have with your partner.

[unabashedlygrumpy]

2000s rom coms appreciation post (part 2)

''13 Going on 30''

''Kate & Leopold''

''27 Dresses''

''The Proposal''

''Bride Wars''

[unabashedlygrumpy]

BRIDE WARS (2009)

[unabashedlygrumpy]

BRIDE WARS (2009) dir. Gary Winick

[unabashedlygrumpy]

wattpad - @ ariellaswan

[unabashedlygrumpy]

WHEN BELLA SAYS “you couldn’t be damned” AND CARLISLE LOOKS AT HER SO SOFTLY AND GRAZES HER CHIN WITH HIS THUMB. 13 year old me hasn't been the same since

[unabashedlygrumpy]

Okay! So that new moon scene of Carlisle and Bella... that’s what made me fall for that ship. Bella’s hand on his hip, his eyes glancing up and down, the little chin tap!! That’s the good stuff right there.

That scene is wonderful. She is so close to him and basically staring at his mouth. Imo it oozes sexual tension. Honestly just inject that scene straight into my veins

[unabashedlygrumpy]

Do you have any headcanons for Wizarding stereotypes and social norms?

I love how your brain works! ❤️❤️

Hi, thank you so much 💓. I'm arriving at this ask a little late, but I have a lot of random, small and large headcanons about wizarding culture (in the uk and the rest of the world), and I have a tag for my HP headcanons in general. Many of these appeared in past posts, but I'll try to summarize like 20 headcanons about wizard culture and social norms in the UK (some of them are very based in canon, and others are just vibes):

1. Fashion. I love historical fashion, and I made posts about wizarding fashion in the uk before (wizard fashion, robes vs muggle-inspired fashion, Hogwarts robes). I believe even when we see wizards in more muggle-style suits/jackets, they are still, more often than not, wizard-made and are made with colors and fabrics that muggles would consider weird to put together.

Like, Dumbledore isn't close to the only one who dresses like an eyesore. Even the twins are described wearing some jackets I don't think would pass anywhere in the Muggle world. And everyone is wearing hats, a lot, all the time, especially older generations.

2. Traditions regarding what you do with your wand once you die change between families/location/time period. Like, during, say, the 13th century in England, everyone got buried with their wands, but in the 18th and 19th centuries it was all the rage to keep a wand display of deceased family members at home. (Talked about a bit here)

3. In the UK, most wizards are culturally Christian. Denominations vary, but I believe they have a sort of magical Anglican denomination, which includes some of their own saints and doesn't place a heavy focus on prayer or going to church, and more about community. (I have a whole series about this subject, with the last entry here and the most quote-based entry here)

Similarly, I believe there used to be a chapel at Hogwarts, but it fell out of use throughout the centuries and has been remodeled into something else. I mean, no large castle from the Middle Ages is complete without a private chapel.

4. We know there are a lot of stereotypes regarding wand woods and wand cores ("When his wand’s oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly" from pottermore), and I believe there are others.

I'm not the first to note the symbolism between wands and manhood (Lucius losing his wand, short wands associated with a "lacking" character). So, I 100% believe "polishing your wand" is a euphemism for jerking off. Similarly, they probably have sayings like "you know what a long wand means".

Basically, wands are a big deal, and there are a lot of superstitions/stereotypes around them.

5. Because of that, I think some people would boast their wand wood/core, and keeping these facts super secret is seen as you having something to hide. Adding a wand handle to your wand is seen as a way to hide that the wand is actually really short, etc.

6. It's not exactly a headcanon since it's heavily implied by canon, but the first son gets his father's name as a middle name, the first daughter gets the mother's name as a middle name, then younger children get grandparents' names, then aunts, uncles, etc.

7. The legal drinking age is 13 for light alcohol (like butterbeer) or for drinking with parental supervision. For harder alcohol (like Firewhisky), the legal drinking age is 16. (That's the feeling I get)

8. In general, alcohol consumption is seen as healthy and common in the Wizarding World, like it was in the 19th century. The type of alcohol and amount do have social connotations, though. A lot. In terms of class, intelligence, trustworthiness, etc. but drinking in itself is seen as chill and no one really thinks too much of it if it's not extreme (and even then it isn't treated as an addiction). (Talked about here & here)

9. I also think their age of consent is 16 and not 18. (The majority age is 17, so it seems right to me). They could also legally get married at 16, though it's somewhat frowned upon to marry before you graduate. This is a leftover of a time when many wizards didn't stay at Hogwarts for the final 3 years and went on to start with life instead.

10. As I implied, I think it used to be pretty common to drop out of Hogwarts after 5th year. Especially for poorer working-class wizards/witches. This is why you only need 1 passing OWL to keep your wand.

I think NEWTs are treated like higher education of sorts and were/are optional, but like with muggle universities/collages most of the population does study these extra years since many jobs started requir NEWTs in specific fields. Not all jobs, plenty are fine with just OWLS.

It's common to drop many subjects in the final 2 years, like Harry does. He actually keeps more subjects than the average student, who stays with 2-3 subjects for NEWTs at most.

11. They don't have any universities/academies or that sort of higher education. It's just NEWTS and then apprenticeships/on-the-job training.

11. In general, the number of OWLs the Golden Trio passed is above average. I talked about it here, but the average amount of passing OWLs with grads good enough for the NEWT classes seems to be ~4 per student. Fred and George's 3 each isn't unusual; their brothers are just academically gifted and ambitious. (Bill got 12 OWLs, Charlie is smart, Percy is Percy, and Ron is also really smart. And we don't know anything about Ginny's OWLs, but she must have gotten more than 5).

12. They are very sanitized to violence. We see corporal punishment (Molly chasing Fred and George with a broom) and other violent pranks (F & G melting Ron's tongue with an acid pop, the Mauraders) being seen as normal and acceptable. (Mentioned it a bit here)

In general, their standard for what's considered "bad" violence is different than ours. Anything that is easily reversible with a spell is seen as a little mean but no harm done, or even a little funny. If it's not permanent, it isn't really seen as harmful. When the harm is permanent, that's when it starts being taken more seriously (but even then, it depends on what the damage is, and often it isn't really treated as anything too serious).

13. Also, mental health is not a thing. Trauma is not harm because they don't really consptualise trauma is a thing. They understand when someone's having a "rough time" or if someone's being "overemotional," but they don't have therapy or anything like it. (I always found "mind healers" in fics out of place in their world. The only "mind healers" they'd have are ones for spell damage caused by Obliviate or curses like the Imperius or the Cruciatus). Any emotional/mental health situation is treated by friends/family support if you have good people around you, getting told to "get over it", or alcohol. (Talked about a bit here)

14. The reason Honeydukes has candy for vampires is because vampires are really rare and not seen as savages the way werewolves are. Vampires are seen as exotic, sexy creatures (kinda like veela, just without the magical attraction), and wizards, too, have trash vampire romance novels. (Talked about this more as well here)

15. It's weird to get a portrait taken when young. Magical portraits are expensive to make since there is like, 1-2 wizards in the UK who do it (I headcanon Dean Thomas grows to paint magical portraits post-series as he is mentioned to draw in the books). So, getting one when you're young means you expect to die soon. It's seen as more extreme than writing a will, and something you don't do without a good reason. It's seen as paranoid and bringing bad luck. As in, getting a magical portrait taken is like asking death to come knock at your door. Hence, why I headcanon Aunt Muriel didn't commission hers yet.

16. Divination as thought at Hogwarts is seen by the majority of the wizarding world as a practice best reserved for wizards/witches who have the talent for it. Like, you have prophecies - seen as rare and mysterious, and you have omens - which is what everyone can learn to do to a degree, but most aren't good at it. There is real magic there (as the centaurs prove) just, not the way Trawlany goes about it. So most wizards treat it as a legitimate field, but one you need a talent for.

17. They're, in general, into astrology. I mean, they study star charts in Astronomy, and the planets' movements is magical in canon (centaurs, certain ingredients need to be harvested in a certain moon phase, etc). So, like, the average wizard could go: "yes, I'm having it tough. You know Mercury is in retrograde," but also, a completely different astrology that is all their own. Like: "When Jupiter is bright, it's a good time for potion making" or something. Along with superstitions that some couples actually take into account when conceiving children, like being born when there is a specific angle between Venus and Mars will make you lucky, or certain plants that predispose you to any Hogwarts house. Like, I'd imagine their birth charts look different from ours, since they pay attention to different things and note them differently. Like, they'd include the angles of various constellations as well, and it'll look different (At least, I'd like to think so).

18. I think they have a lot of little superstitions in general (like seeing a grim). Stuff like, don't propose on a dark moon if you want the marriage to last, seeing a unicorn in the wild is a sign of good luck, professional Quidditch players have lucky underwear they never wash, etc.

19. They aren't prude around nudity. I mean, no one seems to struggle with getting dressed or taking showers with other people in their dorms, even when they aren't used to it (it is something that takes getting used to if you didn't grow up seeing it as normal). There are portraits and talking mirrors that watch you and comment on your appearance in bathrooms and bedrooms, we know many wizards (young Snape, Archie from the Quiddich World Cup) don't wear trousers under their robes (Archie is implied to not be wearing underwear either) and pottermore stated they used to take dumps wherever (though, I think they do have decency around that). Even if we look at the scene before the battle of the 7 Potters, no one considers it weird for them to get dressed in Harry's body. So, it seems nudity or partial nudity around others isn't as taboo or a breach of privacy the way we see it. Especially when it comes to men/boys. (This is part of why no one in-universe sees SWM as SA)

(Which would make sense for a culture stuck in the past. In the Middle Ages, you had bath houses, and families would all sleep in the same room. Sex and nudity weren't as taboo)

20. They think they know about their history way more than they do. I think Hogwarts wasn't built the way they think it was, the timeline of the Peverells and the Founders is all wrong — but no one except a few passionate wizard historians actually know. Everyone else thinks they must know their true history better than muggles because they are wizards (though they don't).

I have a bunch more headcanons that just don't come to mind right now, but I might add them later.

[unabashedlygrumpy]

under that attitude | j.potter

note : I'll have you know it was very funny to take breaks from writing this to create rollercoasters on my roblox theme park tycoon that I managed on the side, I cannot just do one thing lately - at least it was productive

warnings : some angst and a lot of overthinking, pining, misunderstandings (only a bit), two dumb idiots avoiding their feelings, idiots in love, a whole lot of fluff despite the denial

You were always good at keeping secrets - especially the one about your Legilimency. No one could know, because you didn’t have a solid prediction of how the wizarding world would react to that information. But everything changes the day you hear the truth behind his insults - the way his heart stutters when you argue, the desperate, half-terrified way he wants you. 4.9k words

. . . Like, I want you, bless my soul, and I ain't gotta tell him. I think he knows.

Like how most depressing things are, it was worse at night.

The castle breathed in the dark - long, slow sighs that rattled through stone and bone alike - and it was then, in the hush between curfew and dawn, that the voices were loudest. Not aloud. Never aloud. In your head. Flickering, always uninvited.

You leaned against the cold wall outside the Slytherin common room, your head tipped back, eyes closed. The torches burned low, sputtering against damp stone. Somewhere down the passage, you could hear the slow drip of water, the groan of ancient pipes. Familiar sounds.

The other ones - the ones that weren't supposed to exist - you kept locked tight behind your ribs.

You hadn't meant to become a Legilimens. Hadn't studied it, hadn't even known the word when it first happened. It had just. . . started. It started as barely audible whispers at first. At eleven years old, you'd thought everyone heard them - snatches of feeling, flickers of thought that didn't belong to you.

It wasn't until second year, during a Charms duel, that you'd understood: when your opponent raised her wand and spat a hex - and you had already known she was going to - because you had heard her panicked mind scream "Left - aim for her left!" before she ever moved.

You’d dodged without thinking. You won without even expecting an upper-hand thanks to hearing her thoughts and you’d walked back to the Slytherin huddle under curious eyes, your skin cold with the realization that something was wrong.

There were rules about things like this, from everything you have read so far.

Legilimency was dark magic in most people's eyes - an invasion, a violation - a talent reserved for those who couldn't be trusted. Monsters wore polite faces. Mind readers didn't get second chances.

So you told no one. Not even your dormmates, whose secrets you could taste sometimes when they laughed too hard.

And most days, it was fine. Manageable. If you stayed guarded. If you didn't look too closely. It only slipped when people were loud inside - when their feelings boiled over and the world around you blurred at the edges and suddenly their thoughts weren’t behind their teeth anymore, but bleeding out into yours.

You hadn't meant to overhear anyone.

But here, in the long velvet dark of Hogwarts, the mind had no walls.

Potions was a war zone on a good day. On a bad day, when the Gryffindors shared the clasroom with Slytherins, it was mutually assured destruction. Why the professors allow for this inter-house collaboration was beyond you, if there was a house the snakes mildly respect other than themselves - it would be the Ravenclaws.

You sat at your usual table near the back, carefully slicing a bundle of valerian roots, pretending not to notice James Potter throwing glances your way like hexes. He was always known to prank Slytherins, and you were not straying his radar with how you competed on the pitch often.

You anticipated it but still braced yourself for impact.

"Careful, ____," he drawled loud enough for half the room to hear. "Wouldn’t want you brewing up something - oh, I don't know - illegal."

You didn't even flinch, you saw the insult coming a mile away and barely rolled your eyes at how lame it was.

"Touching concern, Potter," you murmured, not looking up. "Planning to report me to the authorities or just desperate for my attention again?"

A few Gryffindors snickered. Lily Evans shot James a warning glare over her cauldron. He ignored it with practiced ease, an amused smile playing at his lips.

He strode closer, arms folded, the portrait of a boy who’d never been told no. Which is funny given how he's very much like a spoiled pureblood heir, only his robe colours were different. 

You neglected to point out how great he would be in your house, he’d thrive alongside the other snot-nosed pureblood brats.

"Just making sure the dark wizard training program’s running on schedule," he said, smirking. "Be a shame if someone as - what's the term? Frighteningly competent - wasn't putting in the hours."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze coolly and that was when it happened.

The world shifted - not outwardly, not visibly - but inside your head, the way it always did when someone's emotions rose too high and their mind got too loud. And James Potter, his mind was practically screaming at you, demanding to be invaded.

James's smirk stayed fixed on his face, not faltering even when your sharp gaze held his - full of mockery and bravado.

But beneath it, like a crack in the ice, you heard:

"Look at her. Smug. Brilliant. Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating."

Your knife slipped, slicing too hard through the root. You caught yourself enough for anyone to not notice the stumble - steady hands with no visible flinch - but your heart jumped painfully against your ribs.

Stay calm.

Stay normal.

Outwardly, you quirked a brow. "If you spent half as much time on your coursework as you do worrying about me, Potter, you might actually pass your exams."

More laughter. A few Gryffindors - Sirius Black among them - hooted loud enough to make Slughorn look up from his desk.

James flushed slightly, his smirk faltering before he masked it with exaggerated affront.

You went back to your valerian root, slicing with vicious precision, pretending your ears weren’t ringing with the echo of his mind’s betrayal.

He hated you, he said. You were rivals, he said.

And yet.

"Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating."

You didn't even want to think about what else he might be shouting inside that head of his.

You just had to survive the rest of class without cracking first.

The library was supposed to be a safe place - for you. Just you and the books and the quietness, somehow people's thoughts are quieter here. They get too focused that your abilities were not being demanded by their thoughts.

Low voices, scratching quills, sound of parchment - no loud Gryffindor boys itching for a fight. No accidental mind-reading incidents. Just quiet.

Or it should have been.

You hunched over a thick tome on advanced defensive charms, trying and pathetically failing to focus. The words blurred, your mind replaying Potions over and over.

'Look at her. Smug. Brilliant. Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating.'

You shook your head sharply.

"No," you muttered under your breath. "No way."

Maybe you'd misheard. There was absolutely no way, the lack of sleep from slaving over N.E.W.T.s and the nearing Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match was getting to you, taking its toll. You convince yourself that was all.

Maybe James Potter didn't actually think you were. . . that.

You sank lower in your seat, dragging a hand across your face. 

You had rules about this. You never took strong flashes from someone and assumed they were true. Minds were messy, complicated things. Thoughts didn't always mean anything.

Still. You started noticing it.

The next day in Charms, you caught James looking at you across the room, chin propped on his hand, staring. When you met his gaze, he immediately dropped a book on the floor and made a big show of retrieving it.

Later, walking down the corridor between classes, you heard him before you saw him - laughing too loudly with Sirius, knocking shoulders with Peter Pettigrew, and the second he spotted you, his whole posture changed. Straighter. And then, predictably, he opened his mouth.

"Watch it, snake," he called, as you passed.

You rolled your eyes and kept walking, but your fingers twitched at your sides. Because even though his words were full of spite, his mind had been humming loud enough to burn:

"There she is. Merlin, she’s - "

You cut yourself off before the thought fully formed. You didn't want to know.

James Potter was many things - loud, insufferable, reckless - but he couldn't actually like you.

Could he?

You buried yourself deeper into your books, trying to drown out the noise - both outside and inside your head.

But the thing about secrets was: they had a way of refusing to stay quiet for long.

The air still smelled like grass and almost-rain when you cut across the pitch, broom slung lazily over one shoulder.

You’d only come to watch - Slytherin practice had ended hours ago - but somehow you’d found yourself lingering, pretending to study the Gryffindor formations. Pretending not to watch a certain messy-haired idiot loop the sky like he owned it.

You should have left.

You should have.

Boots scuffed behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

"Well, well, well," James Potter's voice drawled, closer than you expected. "Didn't realize Slytherins were so obsessed with Gryffindor athleticism."

You snorted, not bothering to face him yet. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I was studying your mistakes."

He caught up easily, falling into step beside you as you made for the gates. His hair was still damp from flying, sticking to his forehead. There was a smudge of mud across his cheek, and he grinned like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Sure you were, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt - but your heart stuttered.

Because even before it hit you fully, you could feel it - the swell of emotion, bright and reckless, practically leaking out of him.

And then you heard it:

"If she knew what I really thought of her, I'd die. I'd let her hex me if it meant she'd touch me."

You stumbled.

Just a little. Just enough that you hoped he thought you tripped on the uneven ground.

But inside? There is absolute chaos brewing in you.

You recovered quickly, shooting him a scathing look, but James only laughed - like you were the most amusing thing he'd seen all day. Given the track record of his thoughts, there might be some weight to that.

He ruffled his already-ruined hair and gave you a wink that nearly made you want to hex him on principle.

"Careful, snake. Wouldn't want you falling for me."

You scoffed. "As if."

But your mind was spinning.

Because it was real. All of it - the glances, the smirks, the insults that were less venom and more cover.

James Potter didn’t hate you. He hated how much he wanted you.

The night was unbearably still, the only sound the quiet ripple of the Black Lake against the shore. You sat by the water, your knees drawn up to your chest, staring at the moonlight dancing on the surface. Your breath came in slow, measured patterns, but inside, it was chaos.

You liked coming here to help calm yourself - the sound of the soft ripples of water, the loneliness of it all as the moon shone brightly. Finally, it's quiet - truly quiet.

No person around whose privacy you could invade.

You had never wanted to know what others were thinking. You had never asked for this. But it had happened. You were a Legilimens.

And now, you knew too much.

James Potter likes you. He wants you.

The thought shouldn’t have had the power it did. It shouldn’t have twisted inside you like this, leaving you cold and unsettled. But it did. And you hated yourself for it.

You could still hear his voice, taunting you in Potions, the insults he threw your way. "Dark wizard in training," he'd called you, his words sharp and cruel. But it wasn’t his words that hurt, was it? It was the thoughts beneath them.

"Bloody hell, she's gorgeous when she's angry."

You froze, the echo of those words still too fresh, too sharp.

But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t let anyone know as it would open a pandora’s box of undesirables you dared not explore outside the wee hours when your head feels like it might cave in on itself.

Legilimency was a curse. It was rare, dangerous, and feared. Wizards who had been caught using it had been cast out, exiled to live on the fringes of society. Families had been ruined, careers destroyed.

And worse - those who could read minds were feared. There were whispers about what those with the power could do with it. How easily they could manipulate people. Control them.

Or perhaps the articles and books you have read were just laying it on very thick, making a spectacle out of something that was out of what society considered ordinary but you couldn’t risk it.

As a Slytherin, it was in your nature to always preserve yourself. Your well-being came first, so every action is well thought-out for your benefit - including hiding your ability away in shame.

People don't take kindly to having their minds read, the mind is one very powerful thing - a vast vault of secrets. You could very well weaponize people’s thoughts and secrets against them.

You’d keep quiet. Keep pretending you didn’t know. Even if it gnawed at you from the inside. Even if every part of you screamed to just tell him, to confront him, to understand what the hell was going on in that arrogant Gryffindor head of his.

You swallowed hard, standing up and brushing your hands off on your robes. The weight of your secret settled like lead in your chest.

You’ll pretend. You’ll keep it secret. And maybe - just maybe - you’ll survive.

Because that is why the hat sorted you to wear green robes, because you were not the type to grab James Potter by his tie to confront him and demand some explanation for the things he thought about you.

You walked back toward the castle, the darkness wrapping around you like a cloak. The sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone echoed in the quiet night.

The cauldron before you is bubbling with that familiar greenish glow, steam rising like smoke. Your fingers are quick, precise - just the right amount of crushed powdered moonstone, stirred counterclockwise, steady, controlled.

James Potter is sitting across from you, as always, only this time he's making a show of it. His elbows are planted on the table, chin in his palm, eyes fixed on you. And that smug expression. The one that makes your insides twist.

"Look at her. She’s so - "

You shut the thought out. It is your absolute misfortune that he settled on sharing a table with you when the Professor demanded some inter-house collaboration for today’s class due to Dumbledore’s insistence.

It doesn’t matter. You have a potion to finish.

But, of course, James never misses an opportunity to make you hate him just a little bit more - if hate is truly what you have been feeling.

“You’re stealing looks at me, _____. Thinking of what unforgivable to use, eh?”

You barely hear the words, your mind too focused on the process in front of you. But you hear the tone. You always hear the tone. And that’s enough.

You don’t look up from your potion, but the words slide out of your mouth like a reflex, sharp as ever. “What’s your problem, Potter? Can’t keep your mouth shut for one class?”

The words are meant to sting, meant to remind him that this rivalry isn’t just one-sided. But as you snap at him, the air thick with the tension of old wounds, your own mind is buzzing with something far worse.

"Merlin, she smells amazing."

The thought - completely out of nowhere slams into your mind like a train. Your hands falter for a second, a stray drop of essence splashing over the edge of your cauldron. You curse under your breath.

But that’s nothing compared to the way your heart jumps in your chest.

"Stop thinking about her like that, Potter. Just focus."

It’s like his voice is in your head - no, not just his voice. It’s his thoughts. His internal struggle, raw and unfiltered. And it’s all about you, as if all the time spent learning at Hogwarts were useless when all he could think about was you, you, you.

You almost choke. Almost spill the entire potion.

But you don’t. You manage to keep your face cool, eyes fixed on your cauldron. You won’t let him see the effect he’s having on you.

James doesn’t see the way you flinch, the way you want to scream and laugh all at once. He doesn’t know that you can hear every stupid, misguided thought racing through his head.

He’s still talking, probably making fun of you, probably insulting your potion-making technique. But inside, it’s all just a blur of "please don’t notice", how good you smell and "how is she this good at everything?"

You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you hate him, when his equally-annoying voice spouted compliments and confessions in your head. Like he was right by your ear screaming them.

But you have to. Because you know. You know what he’s thinking. What he really thinks about you. And it’s driving you mad - as much as he is driving himself mad.

"She’s making it look so easy. Stop it, James."

You don’t flinch this time. You just keep your hands steady, your face calm, pretending like none of it’s happening. Pretending like the weight of his thoughts isn’t burning through your skin, making you want to dunk your head into the boiling cauldron.

It’s maddening. And you’re beginning to wonder how much longer you can keep pretending you don’t know.

The Quidditch pitch was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd drowning out all other sounds. Gryffindor versus Slytherin - the match everyone was waiting for, one that had your Quidditch captain on everyone’s rears all semester.

The teams soared high, the Quaffle exchanged between players as they raced towards the goalposts. It was fast, furious, and wildly competitive.

You gripped your broom tightly, eyes locked on the Quaffle as you swerved past a Bludger. You were focused, focused enough that you could almost tune out everything else - everything, except for him.

Merlin, despite the heat and chaos of the match, you could still hear him through them with how absolutely loud he was as if he was projecting his thoughts to you on purpose.

James Potter, the Gryffindor starchaser, was on the opposite team. The moment you locked eyes, he flashed that insufferable grin, like he’d already won. He was always cocky, always loud. But this time, it felt different. There was something in the way he was watching you.

"Watch out, snake!" he shouted, a taunt just loud enough for everyone to hear as you flew past him.

You didn't flinch, too used to the hostility. Instead, you focused on the Quaffle, your eyes scanning for an opening. You threw it, perfect precision, straight through the left hoop. Score. The crowd erupted into cheers, but the sound felt distant compared to the pounding in your ears.

But there it was again. His voice. Not in the air, but inside your head.

"She’s so good at this. Bloody hell, how does she do that?" James’ thoughts interrupted everything, like a crashing wave. "She moves like - like she was born to fly. Makes me want to just - "

You clenched your jaw, trying to force the thoughts out of your head. This was bad. So bad. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t block out the next wave of thoughts that flooded your mind.

"I want to snog her senseless."

It hit you like a jolt to the chest. You had to swallow the sudden rush of heat in your throat. You didn’t dare look at him, not with the intensity of what was going on in his head.

The game was still raging on, but your focus was slipping. You were just trying to keep it together, trying to pretend this was normal - that it didn’t matter that James Potter, the James Potter, was thinking about you like that.

He wasn’t just mocking you any more. His admiration was clear, cutting through every insult and joke. It made everything ultimately worse.

You caught another pass - biting the insides of your cheeks, dodging a Bludger, and went for another shot. But now it wasn’t just about the game. It wasn’t about scoring or winning.

It was about trying to control your emotions - when everything in you wanted to break the rules. To reach out. To tell him what you were hearing.

But you couldn’t.

Because the last thing you needed was for him to find out just how much you felt the same.

You were unsure how to process the realization that not only is James Potter besotted with you, but you liked him back. You, the Slytherin chaser who he exchanged insults with on a daily every Potions class was just as besotted.

It is truly a doomed plot written out for some sick god’s entertainment watching you run around like a headless Hippogriff.

So here you are, ending up yet again in the black lake during wee hours, escaping the castle undetected yet again. It is the only place that could truly calm you down when even your own ehad gets too loud.

Unbeknownst to you was the Gryffindor hiding under an invisibility cloak, watching you. His eyes studied your face that seemed much more softer in the dead of night, how all the frown left you and all that remained was your features all bare.

He felt the strong urge to reach out, but that would reveal the fact he followed you. He noticed you leaving the castle on the map, and out of concern snuck out to follow you under the cloak. He knew the dangers outside the castle walls, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

He did not expect to invade your privacy as you looked out into the lake like a person who had the entire weight of the world. He wonders just what could be going on inside your mind, wishing he could peer into it and maybe, maybe he could take some of that weight off.

He gripped his wand, feeling defeated. 

He can’t even let you know how much he worries about you, how much he wonders about you - because that would be confronting the fact he has fallen for the enemy. That he would be going against his beliefs.

James Potter is an idiot. And he wanted nothing more than to snog you but instead he always resorts to insults, failing to do right by the bravery prided by his house.

You couldn’t hear his thoughts under the cloak, so you remained unaware of the boy watching you with so much love in his eyes that you were two hopeless idiots dancing around it.

“Merlin,” you breathed out exasperatedly. James Potter is not someone to lose sleep over, you knew that much should be true but nothing is working. No essay on Ancient Runes could distract you enough.

The school year was nearing its end. Despite yourself, you still managed to dodge out of confronting your feelings for one annoyingly-persistent Gryffindor and made it through passing your N.E.W.T.s with flying colours.

You had a decent set of “O” and “E” from your results, not getting anything less than Exceeding Expectations. Your parents are satisfied, not that you have ever failed them. Being a Slytherin is basically being bred for perfection.

Your academics and pureblood duties were already weighing on you but then - 

“Oi, snake!” right.

James Potter is that one itch you can’t quite scratch enough to get rid of. A very handsome itch with a perfect set of teeth, that is. 

“Sod off, Potter,” you roll your eyes as if following a perfected script by now, “I have better shit to do than deal with your childish antics.”

He frowned, something about the way you said it alerted him. There was no bite from that, all he heard was the exhaust from your voice as if you had forced those words out of you. He wanted to ask if you were okay, he thought it.

Before he could ask, you already gave an answer.

“I’m bloody fine,” you scoff. “Since when did you care?”

His frown deepened, impossibly so. He hadn’t asked it yet. You heard his confused pool of thoughts and your mistake began to dawn on you, you look at him, panicked and backed away before he could get another word out.

He must have called out your name, you weren’t sure. So you just made a run for it to avoid whatever he was about to say. 

He ran after you, not bothering to entertain Sirius’ confused inquiry as he watched his best mate chase after a Slytherin. He didn’t think it was anything James needed backup with so he only watched, nudging Remus next to him who also watched.

“What do you think that’s about?” Sirius asked, face unreadable.

Remus let out an amused chuckle. “That, mate, is young love blossoming.”

Sirius gagged, which was the reaction Remus anticipated, wording his phrase that way. “Prongs and that snake?”

“Blimey, you are bloody clueless.”

James had managed to catch up to you before you could turn and see the dungeons common room. Grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you back so you could face him, he called out your name again but your heart was too loud.

“Can you stop running away?” he asked, barely raising his voice. “What’s wrong?”

You turn at him, glaring. Tugging at your wrist to free it but he was not letting you go, you let out an exhausted groan and you only paused when a look of worry painted itself over his features as he watch you struggle out of his grasp.

“____?” he called out, his voice impossibly soft when saying your name that it almost made your knees buckle.

You blink at me. “Say you hate me,” you tell him and you wanted so badly for it to also be echoed in his head.

“What?” he couldn’t explain your actions and it was worrying him beyond belief. You could almost feel your eye twitch at him.

“Say you hate me,” you tug at your wrist, “and mean it, Potter. Fucking say you hate my guts, and also think it in that thick skull of yours.”

“Merlin, ____,” James sounded desperate. “What is going on with you? Lost your wits after N.E.W.T.s?”

You felt unbelievably angry at this moment but it was more directed at yourself than him. Though he thought it was aimed at him, so he threaded carefully. Slowly letting go of your wrist and it dropped limply at your side.

“Yeah, Potter, totally went nuts after the exams so I’m demanding you express your hatred for me,” you remark sarcastically, he did not appreciate it one bit. “Just say it.”

“No,” James replied right away sternly. “You are losing it.”

“How can I not?” You point angrily at him.

“____ - “

“You say one thing and you think another,” there was no going back now as the tears welled up in your eyes, all his confusion left him and all that was left was worry. “I can hear you, your thoughts.”

All the words he knew left him. Jaw slackened, he remained standing in front of you, unable to say anything. All this time, you heard him - how? That doesn’t really matter, his head is now replaying every thought he had of you.

Fucking hell.

Fucking mumbling, bloody hell.

“I didn’t mean to, I know it’s your privacy and I wasn’t going to - “ you cast your eyes down, afraid to see how disgusted he’d look when he realizes what you were confessing. “I couldn’t control it.”

James allowed a beat to pass, just a pregnant pause between you two as the hall remained empty, much to both of your delights. Then finally, he found his voice. He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack.

“You mean - you’ve heard all my thoughts about you.”

You managed to smile despite the tension, “Yes, including wanting to snog me senseless,” you saw the smile tug at his lips. You still refused to meet his eyes, “Your mind is very loud. I couldn’t shut it out even if I wanted to.”

James surprised you by what he did next - crossing the gap between you two which you had expected to keep growing until he was impossibly out of reach. Instead he closed in on you, capturing your lips in his and he did right by his words - 

You felt like he was stealing every breath away with how he kissed you like it could explain everything away. You kissed him back, finally allowing yourself to do one brave thing and confront your feelings instead of swallowing it all down.

His arm wrapped around your middle to pull you impossibly closer as he continued making your head lighter and lighter and only when you tapped in surrender did he pull away. You were heaving, breathless as you eyed him all bewildered.

“You -”

James Potter managed a smirk with swollen lips. “Snogged you senseless, didn’t I?”

“You twat.”

end. masterlist