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be11atrixthestrange · 26 days

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Guilty as Sin?

Thank you for this song, Taylor <3.

Read on ao3

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I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

The energy that permeated The Three Broomsticks on a Saturday night was one of students that had been cooped up all week. Hermione could barely hear Ginny’s voice through the noise, and even if she could, she probably would have struggled to pay attention. Of course, she was thankful for the invitation even though Hogsmeade weekends weren’t really her thing these days.

Ginny liked to talk about Quidditch and boys. Hermione loved Ginny, but conversations about Quidditch and boys grew tedious after some time. Not that Hermione never thought about Quidditch or boys — in fact, she spent most of her time trying not to.

Hermione stared at the glass in front of her, the honey-like hue of its contents matched the dim light of the bar. She didn’t even like butterbeer that much, but it was something to do with her hands. She reached for the glass, and her fingers made an imprint in the condensation, sending shivers down her spine. Then, she brought it to her lips and took a swig.

The smooth buttery flavor made her mouth water in a way the butterbeer itself couldn’t satisfy.

Unsatisfying. Maybe that’s why she didn’t like butterbeer. It wasn’t quite enough.

Hermione placed her drink back down on the table and turned back to Ginny, only to find she had stopped talking.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Ginny.

Hermione frowned — it was no secret that she hadn’t been a perfect friend lately. Distracted was an understatement. Ever since Ron and Lavender had gotten together, nothing could cheer her up. Ginny was usually pretty understanding, but maybe her patience was finally running thin. “Sorry, my mind was just wandering.”

“Oh,” said Ginny. “No, I was just looking behind you.”

“Behind me?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione nodded. She didn’t need to look to know what Ginny was referring to. And yet, as if someone else was controlling her body, she swiveled in her chair to confirm.

His bright red hair was unmistakable. It always was. That was usually one of the things Hermione loved about him, but not recently. She couldn’t not see him even if she didn’t want to.

He sat at a table for two near the bar’s entrance, with Lavender across from him. She had clearly styled her hair — her curls looked fresh and sleek, unlike Hermione’s wild and untamed mane. Her face glowed underneath perfect makeup, and her feminine clothing revealed just enough to catch the eyes of men sitting at surrounding tables. But Ron’s eyes seemed glued to the butterbeer in front of him, not Lavender.

Maybe Hermione’s optimistic side was just imagining that.

“Sorry,” said Ginny. “I wouldn’t have suggested The Three Broomsticks if I knew they’d be here.”

“I know,” said Hermione. “It’s okay.”

She couldn’t avoid him forever. Not in person, and definitely not in her mind.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

That boy had been living in Hermione mind for as long as she could remember, and especially since Lavender laid her paws on him. In fact, that had only made it worse.

It started in their fourth year, when Hermione wondered what would have happened if Ron had asked her to the ball, and not in a last-resort kind of way. As she danced with Victor and felt his hands grace her lower back, she imagined they were Ron’s. She hadn’t meant to, it just happened. She kept her eyes transfixed on Victor’s face, hoping that could erase Ron’s image from her mind, but later that night, when Krum led her out to the gardens, it was too dark to make out the color of his hair. So when he tilted her head back and pressed his lips to hers, it might as well have been Ron. And of course, she closed her eyes, and let her stomach erupt with butterflies — just like it had every time Ron’s gaze had ever lingered on her for a moment too long.

The daydreams intensified in their fifth year. Prefect rounds became a test of her sanity, especially when she was paired with him. Exploring empty classrooms and wandering the dark corridors at night paved the way for fantasies. Every time they opened a door to find a broom closet, she imagined him pulling her in there, pushing her against the wall, his lips on hers, his hands roaming her waist and toying with the hem of her shirt. She wondered what it would feel like to be entangled with him, the heat of his body and breath a delicious contrast to the cold stone wall against her back.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

The heat of the following summer was a blessing in disguise. As the sun beat down on the Burrow grounds, Hermione had the perfect excuse to wear her shortest shorts and sleeveless tops. She relished in Ron’s gaze on her thighs as they sat out in the grass. She noticed how his eyes grew wide when she stripped down to her bathing suit for a swim in the pond. He spent the entire summer with a glowing sunburn, but Hermione had a feeling that his face would have been crimson red either way.

She spent those summer nights in the camp bed in Ginny’s room, wondering if she’d made a mark on Ron’s mind. She laid awake remembering how his hands trembled when he hugged her, the way he stood closer than usual, and the feeling of his arms as they wrapped around her bare waist when he pulled her off the dock and into the water with him.

Then that split second underwater when their bodies made contact, and his arm stayed locked around her. It took everything she had to resist wrapping her legs around him, and sometimes she wished she hadn’t even tried.

Would he have responded positively? He might have slid his hands up her legs and pulled her tightly against him, before crashing his lips into hers when they resurfaced. She blushed thinking of the way his hips would have felt pressed against her, their mutual desire clear as day.

During those nights at the Burrow, as Hermione’s hand wandered to the drawstring of her pajama bottoms, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was also lying in bed upstairs, wide awake, replaying the summer’s events in his mind. Maybe, like Hermione, the fact that he wasn’t alone in the room was the only reason his hand behaved, unmoving, leaving him to wonder what it would feel like to have her in bed with him.

It was entirely possible.

These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me, we've already done it in my head

If it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

It wasn’t until she was alone in her dorm one night that she let her mind wander even further. She’d had enough of the lingering glances and the pure torture of wandering the halls with him, resisting the temptation to touch him. Hermione could have exploded when Lavender waltzed into his life. How could she contain the years of built-up fantasies, now that everything she wished would happen could only play out in her head?

So she let it play out. When her roommates were out one night, and the lights were dark, she drew her four-poster curtains shut and cast a silencing charm. She imagined him lying there, under the covers, sidled up next to her with his clothes nowhere to be found. When her hand slipped into her own knickers, it could just as easily have been his. Why should she have to wonder how his fingers would caress her, how his tongue would pave a trail between her legs, or what it might feel like with him fully inside her? She deserved to know.

And once she knew, a dam had been broken. It happened in the shower, in broom closets they’d discovered on prefect rounds, and in empty classrooms when persistent thoughts of Ron wouldn’t leave her alone during a study session.

The Ron that lived in her mind — the one that was hers, not Lavender’s — did well with practice. It didn’t take long for him to learn her body, how to make her breath hitch and her eyes roll back in her head. The Ron of her fantasies knew how to elicit a gasp and a moan. He took pride in making her scream his name.

Somehow, she knew the real Ron probably would too.

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name

Building up like waves crashing over my grave

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

Hermione took another sip of her butterbeer, which effectively brought her back to reality, even if only for the moment. Her mouth watered, and whether that was from the taste of butterbeer or something else, Hermione didn’t know.

Ginny was still talking, having not noticed Hermione’s eyes glazing over as her mind transported her somewhere else.

She risked a glance toward Ron’s table to see that he was still there, and his red hair sent a jolt of electricity through her body. How did he have that effect on her even after breaking her heart? It wasn’t fair. Hermione gulped down the remainder of her unsatisfying butterbeer, and the tingle in her spine strengthened.

There was really only one way to quell the heat that seeing him ignited, and even then, it wasn’t never quite enough. It had already happened in her dorm, the shower, a broom closet and an empty classroom… Why not add a bar bathroom to the list?

“I’ll be right back,” she announced to Ginny as she stood. “Bathroom.”

Ginny nodded and Hermione turned toward the back of the bar, shouldering her way through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ron looking in her direction, but she didn’t dare risk eye contact to confirm it. He was on a date, and she didn’t want Lavender’s wrath.

Maybe he still harbored the same thoughts she did. There was something between them before Lavender got in the way, she knew it. Those glances, extended hugs, intense eye contact… did he get butterflies the way she did? Did he think of her at night? And if he did, would seeing her across the bar remind him of what could have been?

Hermione pressed the door to the loo open and slipped through, her heart pounding at the possibility.

A girl could hope.

#romione #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione granger #hpromione #ronweasley #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #ron weasley #ttpd #guilty as sin?

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umbridgesshit · 1 year

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remus: you're annoying

sirius: then stop holding my hand

remus: no

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moekonoira · 2 years

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Harry and Ron having a date in Hogsmeade

#ron weasley #harry potter #ronarry #hp #hprw #rwhp #rarry #ron/harry #ron weasley defense squad #harry/ron #harrypotter #ronweasley

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lousypotatoes · 2 months

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Sweet Dreams—George Weasley

Y/N Witherford, a quiet yet determined girl. Living with her mother and stepfather, her only escape is Harry, Ron, Hermione, muggle music and books, and a certain red haired prankster.

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This is my first attempt at fanfiction so bare with me. This book contains cussing, abuse (physical and emotional) and toxic relationships with parents. I will be putting warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but if these topics trigger you, then please don't read. I will be following the book storyline. I'm starting off with the third book, but there will be mentions of the previous books, and I'll be showing how they all met each other. I hope you enjoy <33

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This chapter takes place in The Sorcerer's Stone

N/N stands for nick name

Part 2 Part 3

Songs Featured In This Chapter:

I Wanna Be Your Lover - Prince

Come Together - The Beatles

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I Wanna Be Your Lover-Prince

That was the song that was playing on your Walkman as you sat in the large compartment, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to start moving.

Going against your mothers wishes, you packed the muggle device in your suitcase. If your stepfather found out you even had the Walkman in your possession, he would be furious and he would punish you severely. You shuddered at the thought.

You were grateful you wouldn't see him for the next 9 months.

I wanna be your lover

I wanna be the only one that makes you come running

I wanna be your lover

As you started to sing the chorus, the door to the compartment started to open. Panicking, you hurriedly took off the headset, and shoved it under your seat, not wanting anyone to see you with it.

In the doorway stood a lanky boy who looked to be about 13, with dark hair and freckles. A Weasley, no doubt. You had heard your stepfather talk about the Weasleys in a way that made you blood boil. You personally had never met any of the Weasleys, but you knew enough about them just by how much your stepfather talked about them.

"The wizarding world would be much better off without scum like the Weasleys. They're the biggest blood traitors out there. Lucious was saying that they need to be put in their place, and I one hundred percent agree." He would say.

"Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a tarantula anywhere? A friend of mine brought it with him and now we can't find it." the red-haired boy said, eyeing where your Walkman sat under your seat. "Whatcha got there?"

"Uh nothing...and no I haven't seen a tarantula. Sorry." you said, gently kicking the headset further back.

"I don't believe you in the slightest. Whatever it is, I promise I won't tell. I pinky promise." He said holding his pinky outstretched towards you.

You giggled at the gesture "You should at least tell me your name before you start making serious promises like that."

"Oh of course, where are my manners," he said sitting down next to you. "I'm George Weasley. First year at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"I'm Y/N Witherford, and yeah it is." you said sheepishly. "I'm guessing it's your second year?"

"Third actually. Now show me what you're hiding under your seat pretty please."

"Fine. But you have to promise not tell anyone."

"I pinky promise," he said extending his pinky out. You hesitantly interlocked your pinky with his.

"This is so embarrassing," you muttered as you slowly started to get the Walkman from under your seat.

"George? George! Where the bloody hell are you?" came a voice from the hallway.

"Ahh, that's my brother calling for me," he said as he got up. "Will you show me what it is another time?"

"If you play your cards right, maybe," you said, grinning up at him.

He grinned back, "Excellent, see you later N/N." he said as he went back out in the hallway.

No one had ever called you that in years, the only person who ever called you that was your mother, but that was before she got married to your stepfather. You were left sitting there confused.

Seeing this as an opportunity, you got your headset out and put it back on. But as soon as you pressed the play button, the compartment door started to open. Again, you took it off and shoved it back under your seat.

Not only was there another Weasely standing in the doorway, but there was also a boy with black messy hair and glasses.

"Anyone sitting in here with you? Everywhere else is full." said the Weasley. You shook your head as both of the boys sat across from you. It was silent for a moment.

"Uh I'm Y/N Witherford. It's nice to meet you both." you said awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs.

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," Ron said just as awkwardly. It was clear that he felt awkward sitting in a compartment with a girl.

"I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you too." Harry said, a little less awkwardly.

Your eyes widened as he introduced himself. "Are you really Harry Potter?" you asked skeptically.

Harry nodded.

"I know! I didn't believe it at first either I just thought my brothers were messing with me." Ron said excitedly.

"Sorry if I came off as rude, it just surprised me when you introduced yourself, that's all." you said, internally panicking, thinking that you just insulted The Boy Who Lived.

"You didn't come off as rude. I've been getting that reaction a lot lately." Harry said reassuring you.

You breathed a breath of relief in your mind as the Hogwarts Express finally started to move.

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The three of you were currently talking about Chocolate Frog cards and pigging out on Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands and a variety of other magical sweets.

"I think the only wizard I'm missing is Paracelsus. I can't find him anywhere and it's driving me mad." You said chewing on some Droobles Best Blowing Gum. "I swear if I don't find him soon, I'm gonna go insane."

"The only one I'm missing is Agrippa, I think." Ron said, his mouth full of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

"How many of these cards are there exactly?" Harry asked, opening up another Chocolate Frog.

"Hundreds at least, "Ron answered, shaking the jellybean box to see if there were any left. "Wanna see a spell my brother taught me?"

"Sure," Harry answered.

Ron dug around in his trunk until he pulled out a battered looking wand. He set the jellybean box on the floor and put is pet rat Scabbers on his lap. Just as he raised his wand, the compartment door opened. A girl with busy hair was standing in the doorway.

"Have you three seen a toad anywhere? A boy named Neville has lost one." She said in a bossy voice. You noticed that she had very large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," Ron said, but the bushy haired didn't reply to him. She was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh are you doing magic? Let's see it then." She said as she sat next to you. You slowly scooted a tiny bit away from her.

"Er- alright," Ron said, clearing is throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

You had to hold back your laugh as Ron waved his wand around. Nothing happened to the rat.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" The girl said. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is. I've heard-I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you three?"

You couldn't comprehend anything that Hermione said. She spoke so fast. You were impressed that this muggle girl had already learned all the course books by heart. You had only skimmed over them.

"I'm Y/N Witherford. It's nice to meet you Hermione," you said, smiling at Hermione. She smiled back.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," Harry said.

"Are you really?" Hermione exclaimed. "I know all about you, of course- I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

You felt bad for Harry seeing Hermione fangirl over him like this. You were sure that Hermione meant no harm, but you saw how uncomfortable Harry got just by the look of his face. Poor Harry.

"Do you three know what houses you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad.... anyway, I'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon. I hope to see you later Y/N!"

And with that she left.

"Hermione sure does talk a lot," you thought.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she'd not in it," Ron grumbled.

"Oh Ron don't be rude," you said with a slight frown on your face. "She's muggle born, she's bound to be excited about all this wizard stuff."

"She seems a little too excited if you ask me." Ron mumbled

You laughed. "So quick to judge aren't you Ronald, I'm calling you that for now on, I don't care."

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"What's your favorite Quidditch team Ronald?" you asked out of the blue.

"Oh that's easy. The Chudley Cannons of course." Ron answered, puffing out his chest. "They're the best team in the league."

"I hate to disagree with you Ronald, but the best team in the league is actually The Wimbourne Wasps." you said mockingly.

Ron gasped. "How dare you say such a thing. The Wimbourne Wasps are-"

"What's Quidditch?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh sorry Harry, I forgot you were raised by muggles," you giggled. "My bad."

"Just you wait Harry! It's the best sport in the world!" Ron said gleefully.

You and Ron happily explained to Harry what Quidditch was, from the four balls to the positions of the players. You never had the chance to talk about something you were so passionate about, so you were happy that Harry was listening to you and Ron intently.

Suddenly the compartment door opened for the fifth time that day. You were getting a little bit tired of it honestly. Three boys entered the compartment. Two of the boys were big and looked mean. They reminded you of ogres and trolls. You recognized the other one as Draco, Lucious Malfoy's son. Your stepfather and Mr. Malfoy were very good friends, and he had him and is family for dinner quite a few times.

Whenever Draco was over at your house, you would stay as far away from him as you could. You just prayed that he wouldn't recognize you.

"Is it true?" he asked, "They're all saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in the compartment. Is that you?"

"Yes." Harry answered, looking at the two troll looking boys.

Draco saw that Harry was looking at the other guys. "Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle," he said, gesturing to the boys. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron coughed, but you knew he was doing that to hide his laugh. Draco glared at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Okay Draco, that's enough," you snapped, fed up with how he was acting. You knew that Draco could be rude, but how he treated Ron made your blood boil. It reminded you of your stepfather.

Draco looked at you. "Oh Y/N, what are you doing hanging out with a Weasley?"

"That's none of your business," you spat, "You should really consider how you talk to people, you might gain a reputation."

"Any reputation that you're thinking of would be better than associating with a Weasley," Draco spat back.

"At least I don't have to rely on daddy's money to get me anywhere in life," you said, your voice laced with venom.

"I thought your stepfather raised you better than this Y/N," Draco smirked at you. "I wonder what he would do if he found out that you were hanging out with filth like a Weasley."

Those words made you shut up. Looking over at Ron, you saw that his face was red with anger.

Draco turned to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He said as he held out his hand for Harry to shake.

You were grateful when Harry didn't take it. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." he said.

"I'd be careful if I were you Potter," Draco said slowly, "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and Y/N and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

You and Ron and Harry all stood up, all red in the face.

"Draco if you don't get out, I swear-" you said angrily.

"Or what Y/N?" he sneered. "You'll fight us?"

"Unless you don't get out now," Harry said angrily.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some."

"Then buy some more, with daddy's money then," you said mockingly.

Goyle reached for Ron's pile of Chocolate Frogs, Ron leapt forward, but before Ron even touched him, Goyle let out horrible yell that sounded like a banshee.

Ron's rat, Scabbers was hanging off Goyle's finger. Crabbe and Malfoy backed into the hallway as Goyle swung his finger off, trying to get Scabbers off. Finally, Scabbers flew off his finger and hit the train window. All three went back to their compartment as fast as he could.

You doubled over in laughter, "Oh my gosh, that was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time," you said wiping tears from your eyes. "His scream sounded so much like a banshee, it was hilarious."

"How do you know Malfoy, Y/N?" Ron asked suspiciously. Your smile immediately fell from your face.

"His father and my stepfather are good friends," you said darkly. "He comes over to my house for dinner once in a while."

"What was he talking about when he mentioned your stepfather?" Harry asked, a look of concern on his face.

"It's nothing to worry about," you said quickly. "We should probably change into our robes, I expect we'll be there soon."

Ron and Harry looked at each other, looks of skepticism and concern etched onto both of their faces.

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You were nervous as you waited to get sorted. Whenever you got nervous, you would think of the lyrics to Come Together by the Beatles.

You were grateful that you packed up your Walkman while Ron and Harry were changing into your dress robes.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

He got monkey finger, he shoot coca cola

He say, "I know you, you know me"

One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

You looked around and saw George talking to someone who you assumed was his twin brother. He looked over and waved at you, a big smile on his face. You waved back, smiling.

"Granger, Hermione!"

You turned your attention away from George to look at Hermione. The way she jammed the sorting hat on her head made you giggle.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

You heard Ron groan, you elbowed him in the stomach.

As others were called up there, you began to think to yourself. You wanted to be in Gryffindor but you knew you would be in Slytherin. Your whole family including your stepfather was sorted into that house. With the exception of your biological father. You didn't know where he was, let alone what house he was sorted into.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

You paid close attention to Draco as he went up there. The hat had barely touched his head when it shouted "SLYTHERIN!"

You internally groaned. You already knew it was gonna happen, but you were still disappointed none the less.

You began to zone out, when you heard "Potter, Harry!"

You heard whispers all around you as Harry walked up to the stool.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?

Harry was up there for a good minute. It seemed the hat was having trouble deciding where to sort him.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat finally shouted.

You saw Harry grin as he headed off to the Gryffindor table. You began to feel sad, knowing that the only friends you had made would be in different houses. And Ron had already revealed his dislike for Slytherin, that made it even worse.

There were only five people left to be sorted now.

"Thomas, Dean!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Turpin, Lisa!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Finally it was Ron's turn, his face was as green as yours, maybe a little bit darker. He looked like he was gonna puke as he went up to the stool.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

You looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw Harry and George clap hard as Ron sat down at the table.

Now there were only 2 people left, you and another boy. You felt like you were gonna pass out.

"Witherford, Y/N!"

You walked to the stool, thinking that your legs were gonna give out. The last thing you saw before the hat blocked your vision was George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco staring intently at you, waiting to see what house you were gonna be sorted into.

"Hmmm difficult, very difficult," a voice said in your ear. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. "Raised in a Slytherin household, but no Slytherin qualities at all. Very interesting indeed."

The hat took many more moments to think. You were even more nervous at how long it took for the hat to sort you.

Finally after what seemed like hours, the hat decided.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco's look of shook was nowhere near the look of shock on your face. Quickly though, your look of shock turned into a look of glee. You could feel Draco glaring daggers at your back. He would no doubt tell his father about this, and his father would tell your father. But you decided not to worry about that right now.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George all clapped the hardest as you eagerly sat down between Ron and George.

The last student was finally sorted, and everybody quieted down as Professor Dumbledore began to speak.

"You still gonna show me whatever you're hiding?" George whispered to you.

"I promised you didn't I? I never break a promise." you whispered back

Hermione shushed you and you and George stopped talking.

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Oh my lord this took me so long to type out 😭

Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did making it :)

I'll try to upload as much as I can, co be patient with me.

xoxo, Izzy

#harrypotter #ronweasley #hermionegranger #fredweasley #georgeweasley #georgeweasleyxreader #hogwarts #sorcersersstone #prisonerofazkaban #georgeweasleyfanfic #georgeweasleyxy/n #dracomalfoy

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beautifulballooncreation · 14 days

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Will you be mine? (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/367936567-will-you-be-mine?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=LoverofPlotTwister Draco Malfoy, dressed in his finest attire, knelt on one knee in front of Harry Potter, clutching a beautiful bouquet of red roses in his hand. His eyes sparkled with love and tenderness as he looked up at Harry and asked him in a soft and gentle voice, "Harry, will you be mine? Will you be my life partner?" Their friends had gathered around them, excitedly shouting, "Say yes, Harry! Say yes!" Harry took a deep breath and said with a blush, "Yes, Draco. I would love to be yours, forever and always." Harry tried to run after saying that but in a sudden move, Malfoy reached out and firmly grasped Harry's arm, using his grip to pull Harry towards him. As he did this, Malfoy's chest pressed against Harry's, making it difficult for Harry to move. With a smile on his face, Malfoy said, "You can't run, git!" Harry's heart raced as Malfoy wrapped his arms around him. Harry closed his eyes, feeling his heart flutter with excitement as Draco leaned in to meet Harry's lips. ....... Hello! I'm excited to share my DRARRY fanfiction story with you. I've written this story because I love this genre and have been inspired by other stories to create my own unique tale. If you happen to notice any similarities with other works, please let me know. I want to make sure that my writing is unique. ** I'll try to post a new part every week, although I must admit, I'm a bit lazy sometimes! Hehe..😁 All the characters in my story belong to JK Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them to create my own story. HAPPY READING!!

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braveclementine · 10 days

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Chapter 17

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕴 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖘 scraping back from the table and someone jerked on the door that I'd locked. I dropped the piece of paper that I was clutching in front of the door and took off down the hallway, hearing shouts which got louder as I turned the corner, meaning the door was open.

A few more flights of stairs and a few more hallways run and I was in Myrtle's bathroom. I paced, back and forth, my head in my hands, trying to see something about the Chamber of Secrets so that I could go down into it and save Ginny.

But I saw nothing. I sat down, squeezing my eyes tight but I kept thinking of other things- the Professors, Dad, Ginny, Hermione, Hagrid, Dumbledore, and then I would think those things over and over again, my attention drifting from the visions. Then, I'd try concentrating again and the cycle continued.

I was there for maybe forty-five minutes, paralyzed on the toilet seat, listening to Myrtle talk to herself. I didn't feel all that good and wondered if maybe I should've waited for Harry and Ron. I got up to go find them.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened and I waited, tense, and there were three sets of footsteps. The people walked around the corner, revealing themselves to be Harry, Ron, and Lockhart. (I no longer gave him the title 'professor'. He hadn't earned it).

"Elizabeth!" Harry called in relief. "I'm so glad you're still here."

I smiled grimly. "Hullo Harry."

"What an exit!" Ron said, an unusually determined look on his face.

"How did they react?" I asked, a bit curious.

"Snape threw a horrible fit." Harry said. "I'd never seen him panic before. McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Hooch were all as extremely worried. They're still looking for you."

I felt a bit pleased about that. Not about the part that they were stilling looking about me- the part that Professor Snape threw a horrible fit.

Moaning Myrtle came out to see what the commotion was about. "Oh, it's you. What do you want this time?" Myrtle asked when she saw Harry.

"To ask you how you died." Harry said, somewhat somberly.

Myrtle looked as though she had been asked a flattering question. I raised my eyebrow in skepticism. "Ooooh, it was dreadful." She said happily. "It happened right here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language. I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then-" Myrtle swelled up as though her next words were extremely import, her face was shining so, "I died."

"How?" Harry asked.

"No idea." Myrtle said in a hushed voice like keeping a secret. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up and then I was floating away. . .And then I was floating again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" Harry asked.

"Somewhere there." Myrtle said, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet. I stayed back with Lockhart, mostly to keep him from running. My wand was out and pointed at his neck.

"The taps' never worked." Myrtle said as Harry tried to turn it. It was the tap that I noticed before, the one that had the snake carved on it. That made sense.

"Harry." Ron said suddenly. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But-" Harry looked at the tap. He stared at it and then said, "Open up."

We both looked at Ron. He shook his head no. "English." He answered.

Harry looked back at the tap, a little longer this time. He was moving his head a little. Then he said, "Open up."

I heard the difference this time, probably only because I was listening for the difference. A bit of a hiss, but I still heard the words in English as well. Now, the tap glowed a bright white and started to spin. Then, the sink began to move, sinking into the ground which revealed a long pipe, curved enough that it could be ridden like a slide.

I pushed to the front and immediately jumped down without thinking. It was my fault. I could've prevented this. I slid down the slide. It was slimy and greasy but I couldn't think about that. Ginny was alive somewhere down here- I had to believe that. And even if she wasn't- well, I certainly wasn't going to let her body stay down here forever. Either that, or I would be down here forever as well.

For a split second I thought about dad and I pushed the thoughts aside. I couldn't afford to think like that.

I was spit out at the end of the slide onto the stone floor. I got to my feet quickly and lit my wand. I waited for a split second, not entirely sure if Harry and Ron were going to join me. To my surprise, Lockhart was the next down. He too got to his feet and Harry came next and then Ron.

Harry also lit his wand and we led the way while Ron and Lockhart followed. "Remember," Harry warned, speaking quietly. "Any sign of movement, close your eyes right away. . ."

However, there was no sounds except for the sound of our footsteps and there was no movement except for our shadows on the walls. Our first shock was a large crunch, which was Ron stepping on a rat's skull. I shivered.

Harry lowered his wand and we saw that the path was now full of bones. I shivered again. So many little animals had died down here. We continued though. Then, Ron pulled on Harry's sleeve.

"Harry- there's something up there- Elizabeth. . ." Ron sounded hoarse.

We froze, watching. Then, I took a couple of steps towards whatever it was. I heard Harry take a large breath.

"It's not the snake." I whispered, relief filling my body. My stomach stopped hurting for a second. "It's the skin."

Everyone else came forward now and we approached the skin. It was a violent color of green- acid green. It had to have been nearly twenty feet long, perhaps more. And if that was how big the skin was, I couldn't image the size of the actual thing. "They get bigger when they shed their skin." I recited from a book I'd read a long time ago. I usually shared information when nervous.

"Gee thanks for that image Elizabeth." Ron snapped nervously. I took another couple of steps forward so that I was farther ahead than everyone else. We needed to hurry. Then, I heard another noise, but behind me, and I spun around. Lockhart's knees had given out.

"Get up." Ron said, pointing his wand at Lockhart. I shook my leg in anticipation. We didn't have time for this.

Suddenly, Lockhart dove at Ron. I stood there in shock while Harry jumped forward but it was too late, Lockhart had Ron's wand. When had Lockhart lost his wand? Ah, okay, I saw now as a vision flashed through my mind.

"The adventure ends here boys- and girl!" Lockhart said, pointing his wand at the three of us. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body- and Miss Kane. . . well, I'll find an excuse for you. Perhaps you won't be able to accept this fact and you stayed down here to wander forever. Say good-bye to your memories!"

If I hadn't known what was going to happen, I would've been horrified. As it was, I was pissed off that he thought he could have easily gotten away from it. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape. . . none of them would've accepted his side of the story. There would've been questions and a group would've come down here. Dad certainly would've pushed his way down here. I could only imagine. . . but no. I didn't want to imagine. If Dad came down here and the snake wasn't dead. . .

"Obliviate!" Lockhart cried.

The wand exploded. I grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled him backwards as rocks rained down. There was now, unfortunately, a wall between us and Ron.

Harry quickly climbed to his feet. I turned and continued down the pathway. I didn't want to leave Harry and Ron, but had this incurable need to get to Ginny. Harry caught up to me before I got to far and we set off at a set pace. The tunnel was unbearably long and I couldn't wait for it to end and discover what we'd discover.

I broke the silence on our third turn, "Exactly how mad was Professor Snape?"

Harry looked at me and then said, "Not mad. . . he was. . . well if I thought he had human emotions I'd say scared. Scared that you were going to die. Perhaps he was just mad that you had locked him in the room."

I giggled, amazed. I was sure I was the only one who had ever laughed down here. "I'm sure it was exactly that." I said, satisfied. There was something glowing inside of me, I wasn't sure what it was though.

We finally reached the end of the path where a large stone door sat. It had carved serpents on the door and the eyes were decorate with emeralds. I stared at them, amazed. They probably cost a fortune yet I would never have dared taking these.

"You want the honors?" Harry asked.

I stepped forward and imaged that the snakes were moving. "Open." I hissed. The door parted in two and cracked open, sliding out of sight. Harry and I, both apprehensive, stepped inside.

The chamber was very tall, but not so wide. There was one pathway that led to a large stone sculptured head of Salazar Slytherin. Every so often, there was a side path that led to small interconnected tunnels. There were channels of water in between each side walkway. At the far end of the main walkway, was a figure laying on her face, her red hair, spread out everywhere.

"Ginny!" Harry and I muttered together and we sprinted the rest of the way down the corridor. I stuck my wand in my pocket while Harry set his on the floor. Harry and I flipped her over so that she was no longer lying on her face. I was crying with relief. . . or should I?

"Ginny- don't be dead- please don't be dead-" Harry murmured moving her hair away from her face.

I grabbed her wrist, pulling the robe up her arm to find a pulse. There it was! It was faint but it was there!

"She's alive." I said in an excited whisper.

"Ginny, please wake up." Harry said, shaking her.

"She won't wake." Said another voice and we both jumped.

There, standing right next to Harry was a tall, black-haired boy. I next noticed that he was an extremely handsome boy, but there was something off about him.

"Tom- Tom Riddle?" Harry asked, sounding uncertain.

Riddle nodded, taking his eyes off of Harry's for a millisecond to look at me and then back at Harry.

"What d'you mean she won't wake?" Harry asked desperately. "She's not dead!"

"She's still alive. But only just." Riddle said in the same calm voice that he'd been using. Then, I realized that he had no emotions. . .

Harry stared at him, uncertainly. "Are you a ghost?" He asked.

"A memory." Riddle said in the same monotone voice. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." He pointed towards the floor where a little black diary was sitting. I put all the pieces together about the diary. That it was the same diary that Lucius Malfoy had put in Ginny's cauldron. It was the same diary that Ginny had been writing in before we'd even come to Hogwarts. It was the diary we were late to the train station for. It was the diary that she'd tried to dispose of. And if Lucius Malfoy had had it and it contained the secrets for the chamber of secrets and it was before his time. . . why then Tom Riddle had to be. . . he had to be Voldemort then, didn't he?

I jumped up and backed away. Harry gave me a strange look and Riddle gave me a curious one, but then Harry said. "You've got to help us, Tom. We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk. . . I don't know where it is is, but it could be along any moment. . . Please help us. Elizabeth!"

I stared at Tom Riddle in horror. I had thought he was handsome? Something was terribly wrong with me.

I caught myself and looked at what was happening in front of me. Tom had Harry's wand and I raised my own. He flicked Harry's wand at me and my own wand flew far away. I turned to run and get it but felt my body being lifted up into the air and thrown. I flew through the air as Harry yelled my name and skidded on the stone floor, a bit dazed.

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter." Riddle was saying as though he hadn't just thrown me like a doll. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you."

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry asked slowly.

"Well that's an interesting question." Riddle said pleasantly, the wand still raised and pointed at me. Every time I tried to get up, it felt like an invisible hand was pushing me down. I struggled on the stone floor, my cheek pressed down. It was freezing. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley is like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked angrily. I thought that he was a bit slow on the uptake considering the circumstances.

"The diary." Riddle said. "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me her pitiful worries and woes- how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how- how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her. . ."

I closed my eyes and stopped struggling. If only I'd been a better friend.

"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old-girl. But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom. . . I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in. . . It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket. . ."

Every time he said a sentence, guilt stabbed me in the gut. And then, he laughed. He laughed a high cold laugh that didn't suit him. I recognized it too. He'd laughed when he'd killed my father. I cried out in emotional pain, unable to stop it.

Riddle ignored me. "If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. . . I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her. . ."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, still clueless apparently.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter." Riddle said softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No." Harry whispered, but I knew he finally knew.

"Yes." Riddle said as calmly as though he'd just announced what was for dinner. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing,. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries. . . far more interesting, they became. Dear Tom, I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me. . . There was another attack and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad. . .I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"

He laughed again and I shivered all over but didn't make a noise this time. Guilt had ridden through my entire body and tears fell down my cheeks in streams. Poor, poor Ginny. If only I had been a better friend! The guilt was eating me up inside like a disease.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary. But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you come in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet. . ."

"And why did you want to meet me?" Harry asked. His voice was angry and his teeth sounded as though they were clenched together. I could not see, could not turn my head to see. All I could see was stone and water.

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole fascinating history." I flinched. I found that I could move my fingers. He must be concentrating less on me and more on Harry. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust-"

Hate burned through my veins. "Hagrid's my friend." Harry said, his voice shaking in anger. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake but-"

Riddle laughed once again.

"It was my word against Hagrid's Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student. . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. . . but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance. . . as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"

Hagrid and I were alike, I realized. And also, were werewolf cubs always werewolves? Did werewolves mate while werewolves and then have pure werewolves as kids? Then, scolding myself, pushed these thoughts aside. But, I made a mental note to ask Dad on the side. Well, if we got out of this alive, that is.

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. . . Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did. . ."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you." Harry said with gritted teeth. I was now finding that I could move much every part of my body. Riddle had lifted the spell. I stayed where I was though. I didn't fancy being thrown through the air again. My back was certainly still sore.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled." Riddle said in a bored voice. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well you haven't finished it." Harry said, sounding a bit triumphant. "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again-"

"Haven't I already told you." Riddle said quietly. "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been- you."

I gave a start and since I had done that, I sat up. Once again, Riddle paid me no attention. I was to far away from my wand to cause him any trouble.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery- particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue. . .So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her. . . She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. . . I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

I was sure he was only saying those things because of me. That Ginny had struggled and cried and hurt. I was hurting too. I hurt because I had hurt Ginny. I hurt because I had never wanted anything to happen to anyone but didn't do anything to prevent it. I had hid for months in Hagrid's cabin, hiding from the world, being one with my own personal bubble. I should've talked to her. . . I should've hung out with her. . . there was so much I could've done.

"Like what?" Harry spat.

I got to my feet unsteadily. Riddle glanced at me, then away, and addressed Harry still, "Well, how is it that you- a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent- managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escaped? Voldemort was after your time. . ." Harry said, slowly, frowning.

"Harry!" I said, starting to get really annoyed about the slow uptake. "He is Voldemort!"

Riddle laughed. "Whoever you are, you are quite right." His eyes gleamed red. "Voldemort is my past, present, and future."

Using Harry's wand, he wrote the words TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Then, waving the wand, the letters rearranged themselves to become I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

I was pissed now, rather than scared, "For future reference, my name is Elizabeth Kane."

"You see?" Voldemort whispered, ignoring me which irked me even more. I wasn't used to being ignored. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry- I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"You're not." Harry said, his voice full of hatred. I knew he was thinking about his- our parents. This boy in front of us had killed our parents. The reason we didn't know each other. I felt hatred fill my veins as well and I drifted even closer.

"Not what?" Riddle snapped.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world." Harry said. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days-"

I laughed aloud. It was a perfectly good laugh too. Not high-pitched or anything. I laughed as easily as I would've in the bright sun with Fred and George and Lee. I was proud that I sounded so calm.

Riddle's smile was gone and replaced by a very ugly look. "Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" He hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry said, getting to his feet and also getting a bit louder with every word that he spoke. I was now standing next to him, facing Riddle.

Riddle opened his mouth and then froze. There was music that was coming down the chamber. I looked down. It was eerie and spin-tingling but filled me with hope. Then, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

For a split second, I thought perhaps Dumbledore had apparated there and was doing a wonderful entrance. Instead, it was a crimson bird about the size of a goose. It had a long glittery golden tail, nearly as long as a peacocks. In its talons was something brown and raggedy.

The bird was flying straight towards us, dropping the raggedy thing in Harry's hands before landing on my shoulder. It felt like a weight, but a warm weight, and it almost seemed to calm me. I felt a little lighter now that Fawkes was here.

"That's a phoenix." Riddle said, staring coldly back at the phoenix.

"Fawkes?" Harry breathed out.

"And that-" Riddle turned his gaze to the thing in Harry's hands. "that's the old school Sorting Hat-"

It was indeed. I stared at it, puzzled. Riddle began to laugh. He laughed hard and long and it sent chills up my spine. I could nearly hear it in my mind, laughter and then a pounding sound on the floor above me where I sat in a white crib in the basement. Dad was dead. My breathing was suddenly uneven.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

Harry didn't answer. He certainly looked braver. I moved to the other side of him. I was much closer to my wand now. Riddle's eyes stayed locked on Harry.

"To business, Harry." Riddle said, smiling broadly. "Twice in your past, in my future- we have met. And twice I failed to kill you."

So he knew about Quirrell? He kept his memories alive? That was some weird twisted. . .I wasn't even sure what to call it.

"How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk, the longer you stay live." His eyes flickered over to me. "And you're friend, of course."

Harry was silent for a moment, looking between Ginny who was become paler and Riddle who was become more solid. Then he spit the words out of his mouth as quickly as possible. "No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me. I don't know myself. But I know why you couldn't kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother. She stopped you killing me. And I've see the real you, I saw you last year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all your power got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly, you're foul-"

I was glad that Harry had stuck up for himself. His words though, sliced me like a hot knife. His mother. I couldn't blame him though, I'd never told him. I trembled with anticipation.

"So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful countercharm. I can see now. . . there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike. . . but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know."

Neither Harry nor I decided to correct him that I too was a Parselmouth. I took another step towards my wand.

"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him. . . and his girlfriend."

I smarted angrily as he cast an amused eye over Fawkes, the sorting hat, and me. Then, he turned and walked away. I seized the opportunity and dashed for my wand, grabbing it, and dashed back to Harry's side.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

"Time to move, Harry!" I said urgently as the statue of Slytherin opened its' mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling extremely vulnerable. I heard something thud against the stone floor and started to tremble.

"Kill them."

Joy, now I was on the death wish list too!

I heard the body slithering heavily across the floor. I started to run sideways, using the wall as a reference point. I could hear that Harry was running behind me and then I heard him smack against the stone floor. I quickly turned, eyes still closed, and felt around for him. I could tell, by the shadows behind my lids that the Snake was only some feet away from us.

Then, there was a spitting sound right above us. I felt something heavy hit me and my hands were ripped from Harry's shoulder and I smashed into the wall. Judging by another fall, Harry had been smashed into the wall too. My back was really starting to hurt.

Unfortunately, I opened my eyes. Luckily, I wasn't looking at the snake and it wasn't in front of my face. I squinted and looked up. The serpent was as thick as a jungle tree or oak tree or somewhere between the two. The snake also had it's head away from us, so the snake's eyes were not visible from us.

Fawkes was what had distracted it. He was using his talons and beak to rip apart the Basilisks eyes! Of course, if the basilisk had no eyes, we could fight with our eyes open because we wouldn't be in danger of death! Well, not immediate death anyways.

The snakes tail thrashed, narrowly missing Harry. It turned, probably to get away from Fawkes and I kept my eyes open, but averted them in case I was wrong. Blood was streaming down it's face though and so, I looked. Indeed, they eyes had been punctured by Fawkes and the snake was spitting in agony.

"NO! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY AND GIRL ARE BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN SMELL THEM! KILL THEM!"

The basilisk swayed, confused as Fawkes kept diving at him, again and again. Harry was looking around wildly and then said, "What do we do?"

"We need the sorting hat!" I shouted over the Snake's spitting noises. "And you need to put it on! Think 'help me' over and over!"

"I don't have the sorting-" Harry started to say but then, the Basilisk's tail swept the sorting hat into Harry's arms. Without thinking, Harry jammed it on. I kept my eye on the snake with my wand out. I didn't really know any good spells, but. . . maybe Incendio? Did Basilisks hate fire? I wasn't sure. Then again, it wasn't like I had time to research it before I'd come down here.

Harry pulled the hat off and pulled out the gleaming silver sword of Gryffindor. It was a beautiful thing, rubies the size of eggs set in the handle. He rubbed his head, wincing.

"KILL THE KIDS! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! SNIFF- SMELL THEM!"

I jumped to my feet and Harry did the same, lifting the sword. The Basilisk had turned towards us. One of my ankles was shaky and I wondered if I'd damaged it when I'd been thrown into the wall. I didn't have long to ponder as the snake lunged and I dodged to one side.

The snake hit the Chamber wall, breaking off part of the stone wall. A piece hit me in the face but it didn't hurt much. The Snake had its head towards Harry. Well, I wasn't going to let the stupid snake bite my brother. I launched myself from behind, attempting to climb it's back where I was going to use the fire spell on a small point on it's head. All snakes had sensitive spots. And this basilisk had a rough back, easy to climb, though as it moved it became less easy.

The snake lunged toward Harry, flicking its tail, and I found myself flying again. I hit a wall and slid down into the water that I'd seen as we'd first come into the place.

The water was icy cold, but I was used to cold temperatures when it came to water. I thought that I would just kick off the bottom but found that the water was trying to pull me under. There was some sort of suction- perhaps a magical one-that was pulling the water downwards. I struggled against the current, my fingers reaching for the stone edge.

The current however, succeeded in pulling me farther down. I had lost way to much air. Well this is stupid. I thought angrily as I sunk lower and lower. I didn't know I was going to drown under the effing ground.

No, I thought, as I kept my mouth closed though I longed to take a breath. There had to be a spell to get me out of the water. . .Then I thought back to Herbology when we were planting seeds in water tanks and drew my wand.

"Propulso!" I shouted into the water, pointing my wand down. It had to be now or never. I'd gotten water into my lungs. My eyes were burning. The charm did the job and I shot upwards and out of the water, landing hard on the stone. My arm started to throb. I coughed and choked and vomited up water until it was out of my lungs and then looked around.

The snake was dead. Harry was sitting against the Chamber, clutching his arm. "No, no." I muttered and struggled to my feet. Fawkes had flown over to sit beside Harry. I struggled towards Riddle and Harry. My ankle had indeed been twisted. I ignored the pain.

"You're dead, Harry Potter. Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

Fawkes was crying?

"YES!" I cheered aloud, drawing Riddle's attention to me. He scowled and Harry looked up.

"So you didn't drown?" Riddle said, his lips curling into a smile. "Wonderful. Now we'll have our own little duel won't we."

I drew my wand. "You won't kill me easily Riddle." I scowled. "And I certainly aim to kill you."

He smirked. "What could you do against me?"

He was right, of course, but I wasn't going to let that show. Instead, I narrowed my eyes dangerously. "You'll see."

Riddle raised his wand and shot a spell at me. I blocked it. I watched over Riddle's shoulder as Fawkes dropped the diary into Harry's lap.

"STAB IT HARRY! STAB IT!" I shouted, dodging another spell. I felt something snap in my ankle. Alright, so I'd broken it now. Lovely. Dad might just kill me after this.

I remained standing, probably something stupid to do and Riddle smirked again. "Say Good-bye, whoever you are."

I would've been extremely annoyed at that, especially since I'd given him my name, but I had something over him. I lifted my hand and said "Bye-bye." like I would've to a little baby. Riddle stared at me, perplexed and stunned, and then, Riddle started to writhe and twist, screaming and flailing, collapsing to his knees. Then, he was gone.

I would've sunk onto my knees except I knew that if I sat down, I'd never get up again. Instead, I made my way over to where Harry was hurrying over to Ginny as she was sitting up. I felt relief flow through my veins.

She looked from Harry, to the Basilisk, to me, and then to the diary. At the look of the diary, she started to sob and tears poured down in great torrents. "Harry- oh, Harry- I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy- it was me, Harry- but I s-swear I d-didn't mean to- R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over- and- how did you kill that- that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary-"

"It's all right." Harry said, holding up the diary. My ankle gave out and I knelt in the water and blood that was spread out everywhere. "Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon Ginny, let's get out of here- Elizabeth, some help?"

Then, Harry looked over at me and cried out, "Elizabeth? Are you alright?"

I smiled at him through the pain. "Never better Harry."

He seemed a bit relieved but he was watching me with scrutinizing eyes. I sighed. "Broke my ankle, that's all."

Ginny and Harry got to their feet and Harry came and helped me up. Ginny was still sobbing, "I'm going to be expelled! I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"

"Hey!" I said softly, putting an arm around her. "They're just going to be happy to see you alive. They won't care if you're expelled or not. Besides, Dumbledore is a fair man. He'll let you stay, I promise."

Fawkes was waiting for us at the end of the walkway. Our progress was a bit slower, because of my ankle. I refused any help. I wanted Harry to help Ginny and I most definitely wasn't going to lean on Ginny after all she'd been through. She was the one who needed someone to lean on.

After roughly fifteen minutes, we were back where we'd split up. I could hear Ron shifting rock still. Harry sped up a little, calling Ron's name and telling him that Ginny was quite alright. There was a strangled cheer on Ron's end.

"Ginny!" Ron said, thrusting an arm through the gap "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How- what- where did that bird come from?"

Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny.

"He's Dumbledore's" Harry said, reaching out and grabbing my hand. "Help me get Elizabeth through. Her ankles broken."

My cheeks flushed and with a little difficulty, I was through the gap, leaning on Ron's shoulder. It was nice to get off my ankle.

"How come you've got a sword?" Ron gaped, as Harry came through the gap next.

"I'll explain when we got out of here." Harry said, throwing a sideways glance at Ginny. She was sobbing harder and I stopped leaning on Ron so that I could go over and give her a hug. She threw her arms around me tightly and I nearly couldn't breathe.

"But-" Ron said.

"Later." Harry said fiercely. "Where's Lockhart?"

"Back there." Ron said, jerking his head. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."

We made our way back to where the pipe was and Lockhart sat on a stone, humming to himself.

"His memory's gone. The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself." Ron explained.

Lockhart looked up at us.

"Hello. Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"No." Ron said, raising his eyebrows at us. I giggled.

Harry looked through the pipe. "Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?" Harry asked Ron and then threw me a sideways glance.

Ron shook his head and I hesitantly said, "Perhaps the Propulsion charm? But it would probably take a lot of willpower. . ." I drifted off. If I fell again, I might shatter the bones in my ankle. Then, Fawkes came past me and flew in front of Harry. His long golden tail feathers were waving.

"He looks like he wants you to grab hold. . . But you're much to heavy for a bird to pull up there-" Ron said uncertainly.

"Fawkes, isn't an ordinary bird. We've got to hold on to each other. Elizabeth, you come up here and hold onto Fawkes. I'll hold your hand. Ginny, grab Ron and Professor Lockhart's hands."

I grabbed Fawkes tail feathers and then grabbed Harry's hand. Once we were connected (Harry had to tuck the sorting hat and sword into his belt) Fawkes took off. The tail feathers, I noticed, were strangely hot.

There was an extraordinary lightness as we flew through the air and we were already nearly halfway up. I could hear Lockhart somewhere below shouting, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!"

I laughed again.

Then, the ride was over, the five of us were hitting the wet floor in Myrtle's bathroom. Then, the sink slide back over the hiding spot.

I got unsteadily to my feet and leaned on a broken sink.

Myrtle floated in the air in front of us, goggling as though she couldn't believe her eyes. "You're alive."

"There's no need to sound so disappointed." Harry said, wiping blood and slime off his glasses.

I looked in the mirror real quick. I had blood all over my robes along with mud and slime. I was also soaking wet, looking like I'd climbed out of a river- which I had. My face had blood smeared on one cheek from the stone hitting my face. I looked horrendous and prayed that I wouldn't run into Snape while in the hallways.

"Oh, well. . . I'd just been thinking. . . if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet." Myrtle said, blushing silver.

We left the bathroom, Harry supporting me on one side, and Ron said, trying to make a joke, "Urgh! Harry! I think Myrtle's grown fond of you! You've got competition, Ginny!"

Ginny however, continued to cry, though her sobs were now noiseless. "Where now?" Ron quickly asked Harry. Harry pointed at Fawkes who was leading the way. We found ourselves outside Professor McGonagall's office. Harry knocked and pushed the door open. I took a deep breath and we headed inside.

⬅️➡️

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marsh-750 · 2 years

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Sketch rarry~

#fanart #Ronweasley #harryxron #harron #rarry #Otp #otp: you two have an adorable son #Harry #Shipp #Ronxharry

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the-darling-badger · 1 year

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Ahh yes, the Golden Trio...

Hermione Jean "Now Harry, don't take this the wrong way" Granger

Harry James "There is no other way to take it" Potter

Ronald Bilius "I'm staying out of this" Weasley

#harry potter #harry #hermione #ronweasley #golden trio #hp #gryffindor

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fanfictionforall · 2 months

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Titel: Slytherin Awakening / Dramione

Auteur: RaeMurphy

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Samenvatting:

Hermione Granger, One-third of the Golden Trio, has returned to Hogwarts to complete her 7th year of magical education. To celebrate the ending of the war, the newly appointed headmistress Minerva McGonagall wishes to promote unity and acceptance among her students. To achieve this she appoints Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy as head prefect and holds a dance to celebrate life and happiness after the darkness of the previous years. But when teenagers, alcohol and dancing mix, mistakes are bound to be made…

Link naar de Fanfictie: Slytherin Awakening | DRAMIONE 🖋 - Rae.Writes.Fantasy - Wattpad

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chuchiotaku · 1 year

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Chapters: 19/21 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ron Weasley & Harry Potter & Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley & Weasley Family, Ron Weasley & Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter & Sirius Black & Remus Lupin Characters: Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Weasley Family (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: Ron Weasley-centric, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Smart Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley Angst, minor original characters, Lordship and Noble Houses, Canon Divergence Series: Part 1 of There and Back Again: A Ron Weasley Time Travel Novel Series Summary:

TBA is now officially in AO3!

Year Zero: The Wizarding War

Just when things appeared to be turning around, an unfortunate turn of events lands Ron from the Hogwarts battlefield to a strange place with only Snape, of all people, for company. Because apparently, he is dead. Or at least, very nearly there. But then Ron is given the chance to change his fate: accept death and move to the next great adventure, return to the world of the living at the height of the war, or go further back, for a chance to relive his life and save even more. The question is, what will he have to do in exchange?

Year One: Beginning With A Stone

Ron wakes up on July 1991 with memories of his old life, and a new sense of purpose. On the first year of his new life, the board is set for sweeping changes, new friends and wild discoveries to teach Ron that, even for a time traveler, there is still always more to learn, and something new to experience. Can Ron stay one step ahead of all the surprises awaiting him, and help Harry survive their first encounter with a disembodied but still dangerous Dark Lord?

#harry potter #harrypotterfanfiction #ronweasley #proronweasley #ron weasley defense squad #chuchiotakuwrites #harrypotter tba

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watsonfrance · 8 months

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Emma nous montre ce qu'elle a dans son sac à main version 2023 🫶

#emmawatson #emwatson #hermione #hermionegranger #harrypotter #potterfamily #potterheads #potter #watsonheads #watsonhead #danielradcliffe #rupertgrint #ronweasley

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 months

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The Loft 8

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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In a crazy turn of events, I updated The Loft after 2 years... :)

Chapter 8

A watched egg never cooks. Is that the saying? Ron doesn’t know — he’s terrible at idioms and shit. If it’s not a saying, it’s definitely accurate.

He stands in front of the stove, waiting for his egg to fry. It’s taking forever, and he’s tempted to just leave it there, but maybe then he’d burn the whole loft down. That, or Vicky would eat it.

Vicky’s here this morning, just like he was here yesterday morning. And the morning before that. It almost feels like they have another roommate, one that doesn’t pay rent and that Ron didn’t choose. Well, he didn’t choose Hermione either, but that worked out. Sort of.

Ever since Hermione and Victor became ‘official’, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together. Ron comes home after work, Krum is here. He wakes up in the morning, Krum is still here. The only time Krum seems to spend outside of the apartment is between the hours of 9-5, and one hour at night, 8-9 pm, on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Whenever Ron has asked where he goes, he gets all weird and quiet. Whenever he asks Hermione, she doesn’t seem to know or care.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s important for couples to spend time apart.”

“But Hermione, do you know where he goes?”

“No, because I respect his privacy.”

Why is Vicky the only one in this loft entitled to privacy? He often wonders when someone empties the laundry machine and leaves a trail of socks and underwear across the living room floor, or late at night when he can hear his roommates’ beds creaking, knowing they brought home a companion, a poor soul who has no idea how thin the walls are.

It begs the question, what kind of dark shit is Krum getting up to between the hours of 8 and 9pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays if he can’t even tell his girlfriend about it?

Maybe he has an embarrassing hobby. Or a gambling addiction. Or a second girlfriend.

Ron tries to ignore his heart’s fluttering in response to the last thought. What sort of friend would hope for that kind of thing?

“You might want to turn the stove on,” comes a gruff voice, interrupting Ron’s thoughts. “Or your egg will never cook.”

With a groan, Ron flicks on the burner.

“Are you okay?” asks Krum as he takes a seat at the kitchen counter. “You seem distracted.”

Ron glances back at his unwelcome roommate. His thick robe hangs loosely around his waist, forming a deep v neck that exposes Krum’s chiseled pecs and chest hair. Why can’t the dude just cover himself up a bit?

“M’fine.”

“Okay then. Look, I’m going to be out of town for the weekend—”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” interrupts Ron.

“Sorry?”

“You don’t even live here, so you don’t have to tell us when you’ll be out.”

Ron keeps his back to Krum as he lets the awkward pause wash over. Sure, maybe he should be nicer to the guy, but someone should gently tell him he’s overstaying his welcome. Hermione won’t.

“I was just going to ask if I could keep my car out front. Sometimes I get towed if I leave it out at my apartment—”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Great,” says Krum as he rises to his feet and turns back toward Hermione’s room. “Thanks.”

“Where are you going this weekend?”

“Nowhere.” The sound of Hermione’s door closing punctuates Krum’s response.

Hmm. Very odd.

Moments later, Harry appears from his bedroom door, still disheveled in his pajamas. “What’s got you down?”

“Vicky.”

“What about Viktor?”

“I’m telling you, he’s giving me the creeps.”

Harry chuckles. “Since when?”

“The cabin trip we all went on.”

Harry lets a full laugh escape, as he responds. “You’re ridiculous. He never bothered you before.”

“I think he’s cheating on Hermione.”

Harry’s eyes narrow and glances toward Hermione’s bedroom. “She doesn’t deserve that, but how do you know?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Ron—”

“I think if I went to his place, I’d find proof.” Ron raises an eyebrow at his friend, who violently shakes his head.

“No.”

“Please come with me? I’ll give you free beer.”

“No. Plus you always give me free beer.”

Ron shrugs. “I’m going alone then. He’ll be out of town this weekend, and it’s the perfect opportunity to just check in.”

Harry groans. “You’re going to force my hand aren’t you?”

“Just come with me and make sure I don’t do anything unreasonable?”

“Going in the first place is unreasonable.”

“Still gonna do it.”

Ron knows that Harry can’t resist a little bit of mischief, so all he has to do is wait him out. Ninety percent of the unreasonable things Ron has done in his life have involved his best friend.

Like clockwork, Harry raises an eyebrow. “Okay. When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning, after Krum leaves town.”

Harry groans. “You know this is a terrible idea?”

“Yes. But I don’t care.”

“We’re not going to do anything illegal, right?”

Ron imagines what exactly they’ll do tomorrow — show up at Krum’s apartment and just open the door? If Vicky’s dumb enough to leave his door unlocked while he’s out of town, then sure. But he’s definitely not dumb. If he was, Hermione would be staying far far away from him, and yet, here they are. It won’t be the first time Ron has snuck into a window. He was a horny teenager with a girlfriend and strict parents before, and crowbars are quite effective.

“No, of course we won’t do anything illegal.”

Harry nods. “Then fine,” he says, the reluctance in his voice rather light.

“Knew I could count on you.”

It doesn’t take long for Ron and Harry to locate Viktor’s address — the internet is a wonderful invention. They pull up to his street and emerge from the car. On Ron’s back is a bag equipped with a crowbar, a rope, and a clipboard. Ron’s found that holding a clipboard is the best way to look like you’re supposed to be there.

“None of this makes sense, mate.”

“Sure it does.”

As Ron shuffles along the pavement of an unfamiliar neighborhood, Harry trots behind him in an effort to keep up.

“You have no evidence that he’s cheating.”

“That’s why we’re doing this. To find some.”

“Ugh.”

Harry and Ron eventually stumble to the front porch of Viktor Krum’s duplex. It is larger than expected, but slightly run-down. The grass in the front lawn needs to be mowed, and on the front porch sit two pots that once housed plants, maybe. By the looks of it, no one has watered them in years. The paint is peeling off of the siding, and one of the stairs on the front stoop has rotted through. Even though their loft is still rather dumpy, Viktor’s makes it look like a castle.

“No wonder he’s always staying at our apartment.”

Ron peers around to the side of the house. A cracked window reveals an unmade bed inside. From his research, Ron knows that Krum lives in the first apartment on the left.

“We’re going in through the window.”

“Breaking and entering, cool,” grumbles Harry.

“Just entering. No need to break.”

Harry and Ron tiptoe across the overgrown grass and when they reach the window, it takes both of them to wedge it up high enough for them to fit through. Harry props Ron up and he slithers head-first into Viktor Krum’s bedroom. Harry follows, and both boys land in a thud on the carpet of the darkened room.

“You’d think he’d be able to afford a nicer place,” says Ron.

“Maybe he’s saving for an engagement ring or something,” sniggers Harry.

“Fuck mate, why would you say that?”

“To watch you squirm.”

Harry and Ron get to searching Krum’s apartment, flipping over couch cushions and rummaging through bookshelves looking for something — anything — that might belong to a girl who isn’t Hermione. Jewelry, clothing, makeup, perfume. One sniff and Ron would surely be able to tell if the perfume is hers.

“What’s this?” Harry’s voice travels from a smaller room attached to the living area. Ron peers inside to find a cluttered desk next to a bookshelf. Lining the shelf is a collection of Agatha Christie and Stephen King novels, and writing utensils galore. Harry is standing at the desk with a thick binder in his hands. “I think it’s a story.”

“Let me read it.” Ron yanks the binder from Harry’s hands and turns to a random page.

“She was dead. So very dead. The way her bushy brown hair splayed across the ground and nearly blended in with the fallen leaves made her look so natural in that state, like she was finally at peace. But her eyes were open, revealing the look of shock in her face. But there was something else there. Recognition. Betrayal.

Her hand still clutched the stab wound in her stomach, and Special Agent Reid knew that her stomach lining wasn’t the only thing that had recently been broken. So had her heart.

Clearly, she knew her killer. And most likely, if statistics proved to be true — and Spencer Reid always trusted statistics — it was her lover.”

“What the fuck is this?” splutters Ron.

Harry laughs. “I don’t know, but I’d be embarrassed if someone found that at my desk. I think he’s just writing. Special Agent Reid is a character on Criminal Minds.”

“Yeah, and the dead girl with bushy brown hair is clearly Hermione.”

“It appears to be fanfiction.”

Who the fuck writes fanfiction? “Oddly specific fanfiction.”

“I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about,” shrugs Harry. “It’s probably just a creative outlet.”

“She was killed by her lover, Harry.”

“We should probably go,” says Harry. “I’m nervous someone saw us sneaking in here, and we can’t find what we’re looking for.”

Can’t find what we’re looking for? What the fuck is he talking about? “Harry, we’ve found something much worse than what we’re looking for.”

“Fanfiction?”

“No, evidence that he thinks about killing Hermione.”

“He doesn’t think about that, Ron. He’s just writing.”

“Why aren’t you more concerned about this?”

“Honestly?” Harry shrugs. “Because he’s not a bad guy. He treats Hermione well. He’s kind. And we just discovered an embarrassing secret of his and should probably keep it to ourselves.”

“Don’t you think we should tell her and let her decide if it’s concerning?”

“Hermione’s a grown woman who can take care of herself.”

Ron sighs. He pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the open page of Krum’s story. “Well I’m going to tell her.”

“How are you going to explain why we were in his apartment?”

“Dunno.”

“Want my opinion, Ron?”

No. Not really. Ron decides not to answer, but Harry continues anyway.

“Leave her alone. It really feels like you want him to be cheating on her. Or to, I dunno, be plotting to murder her.” He gestures to the binder when he emphasizes the word. “See how ridiculous it sounds when I say it?”

Ron has to admit that Harry has a point.

“I know you care about her, so stop sabotaging your friendship by meddling in her relationship.”

Ron grunts. “When did you become so good at relationships?”

Harry gets a strange look in his eye. “Well, if you must know—”

“No, I don’t need to know,” grumbles Ron, as the memory of Harry and Ginny holding hands flashes across his mind.

“Fair enough,” says Harry with a smile. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught?”

“Yeah,” agrees Ron . Probably a good idea.

Hours later, Ron is cleaning glasses at the Burrow while Harry sits across from him at the bar, picking at a pile of french fries in front of him. “I still can’t believe we snuck into his house.”

“I can,” says Ron with a shrug. Honestly, it felt a lot like storming Cormac for Hermione’s belongings when she first moved in. Some people make Ron want to throw logic out the window.

“You’re an awful influence, Ron.”

No, Hermione’s the awful influence. Ron turns to stack newly washed glasses on the shelf at the back of the bar. He is definitely being unreasonable. Hermione, in no way shape or form, caused him to break into Krum’s apartment. It was his concern for her that did. Because he cares. Plus, even if Harry doesn’t agree, if you ask Ron, they found what they were looking for.

“Hello, roommates.” Hermione’s voice echoes from the front door. It’s only three o’clock, and the bar doesn’t pick up until later, and the lack of people in the room makes Hermione’s presence seem all that much stronger.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” says Ron.

“Hey, Hermione. Good to see ya,” says Harry. “Also, I’m going to be late to meet Gin, so see you back at the loft later—”

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with Ginny today.”

Harry pushes his half-eaten french fries out of the way and rises to his feet. “Bye!”

Hermione takes his empty chair, and both of them watch Harry scuffle out the front door with an extra pep in his step.

“That was weird,” says Hermione with a shrug.

“Yeah.”

She pulls Harry’s plate of french fries closer to her, and plucks at one. “So what did you two do today?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Really? I just didn’t see either of you at the loft.”

Ron avoids her eye contact and shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

“Right,” she says, while she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “So are you working till close?”

“Yep.” Ron feels a pang of guilt at how terse his answers are. Ever since the cabin, he’s been quite short with her. He tells himself he’s just giving her space, but deep down, he knows it goes beyond that.

Hermione persists. “Mind if I hang out here for a while? Obviously Ginny’s busy with Harry and Viktor’s gone for the weekend.”

“Sure,” he says. Then, willing himself to keep the conversation flowing, he adds “You still don’t know where Viktor is this weekend?”

Hermione hesitates before answering. “Just on a trip.”

So she does know where he is? Or maybe she doesn’t and it worries her.

Overwhelmed with a desire to come clean, Ron turns back to her. “Can I tell you something, and you promise you won’t get mad at me?”

Hermione seems to brighten at the fact that his answer is longer than one word. “No, I can’t promise that, Ron. But please tell me.”

Ron groans. He shouldn’t say anything. But he does. “He gives me a weird vibe. Something’s off.”

“Of course he does,” says Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“What does that mean?” asks Ron, his defenses rising.

“Seriously, Ron?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “Tell me, Ron, see that guy in the booth?”

Ron follows her gesture to one of the only other patrons currently in the bar — a middle aged man reading a book and sipping an IPA. “Yes.” “Does he give you a weird vibe?”

“No, not really.”

“If I were to walk over to him and snog him, would he then give you a weird vibe?”

What kind of question is that? “Yes, but because he’s willing to snog a stranger in a bar—”

“You’re not willing to snog strangers at bars?” Ron’s mind darts back to Lavender. Sure, he was willing to snog strangers at bars, but they all know how that turned out.

“Okay, what are you saying?”

“I know we’re dancing around it Ron. It’s the elephant in the room.”

The hair on Ron’s arm tingles as it stands on edge. The last thing he expects is for Hermione to actually name the elephant in the room. Does this mean she’s about to shut him down once and for all? Tell him she’s happy with Krum? And that he should fuck off? Well, Fuck.

“Okay, but—”

“I love being your friend and your roommate, I’m in a stable relationship, and not willing to change that right now.”

Shit.

Hermione continues. “Will Viktor and I marry each other? Probably not. But at this point in my life, this is what I need.”

So, Hermione thinks Ron is pining uncontrollably for her? Is that how it is? “I didn’t break up with Lavender because of you, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

Does she know, though?

“And that is not why Krum gives me a vibe.”

She laughs. “Okay, why then?”

Ron groans. He really shouldn’t show her. Even if she thinks he found it at the loft, she’d probably just get angry at him for going through his things. But, for some reason, he can’t resist. “I found this today.”

Ron pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks through his photos. When the photo of Krum’s little story surfaces, he slides his phone to her across the bar.

Hermione picks it up and her eyebrows narrow to the text. “Where did you find this, Ron?”

What can he say? On his desk. In his apartment. The one I broke into earlier. “He left it out,” says Ron. It’s technically not a lie.

“That’s an invasion of his privacy,” says Hermione, coldly.

“Does it not concern you?”

Hermione shrugs. “Honestly, no, it doesn’t. He’s already shown me.”

“What?”

Hermione contemplates before giving up more details. “He’s taking a creative writing class, and this was one of his assignments,” she says, gesturing to Ron’s phone. “To write a fanfiction story from his favorite show. And he loves Criminal Minds.”

“Are you serious?” Harry was fucking right.

“Yes, it’s what he does every Tuesday and Thursday night. And that’s where he is now, actually, at a writing retreat.”

“So he’s like… serious about writing?”

Hermione shrugs.

“It doesn’t bother you that you’re the dead girl in that story?”

“Not really, no.”

“And that you were killed by your lover?”

Hermione laughs but shakes her head.

“It’s not very good.” He’s definitely grasping at straws now.

“I know that,” says Hermione. Ron’s pleasantly surprised that she agrees with him.

“Why does he do it?”

“He enjoys it. Isn’t that enough?” Finishing off Harry’s old fries, Hermione wipes her hand on a napkin. “Can I have a cream ale?”

“Sure,” says Ron as he reaches for a pint glass. “So you’re confident that he doesn’t want to kill you?”

Hermione laughs. “No, he doesn’t, thank god.”

“He’s not going to break your stomach lining and then your heart?”

“Okay,” groans Hermione. “Don’t be mean.”

Ron hands her the dripping cream ale. She smiles and takes it from him, her cheeks tinging pink with what Ron presumes is secondhand embarrassment. Honestly, it’s quite nice that she supports him, even though his hobby is a bit weird. It’s what Ron would call a green flag. Krum is a lucky bastard.

“My heart isn’t breakable right now, anyway,” she adds, before taking a sip of the foam layer at the top of her beer.

Ron cocks an eyebrow.

“Still have too many walls up, you know.”

“Oh I know, you’re a total ice queen.”

Hermione laughs, and Ron feels himself relax. It was a tough few days of not speaking freely with her.

“Thank you for talking to me. I missed having you as my friend,” she says.

The way she emphasizes friend sits strangely with Ron. As though she’s dictating the specific role she wants him to play right now. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite like being friendzoned, and he can’t figure out why. There’s something temporary about the way she says friend.

Or is he reading way too much into that? He doesn’t want to be her friend. And yet, he loves being her friend. How does that even make sense?

“Right,” says Ron, cautiously. “So if I wanted to write bad fanfiction, would you support me? As a friend?”

“Of course!” says Hermione cheerfully. “I’d beta read for you.”

“Well then, maybe I’ll take up the habit. Show you I have other talents besides giving you free beer and being your attractive roommate.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, yet a smile graces her lips. “I bet you’d be a good writer,” she says as she gulps down the last of her beer.

“Maybe you’ll find out. Want another beer?”

“Sure!”

Ron pulls her glass away and refills it under the tap. This is definitely the weirdest friendship he has. But he’ll play along.

For now.

It is far too late when Ron finally makes it home from the bar, and as much as he wants to sleep, he’s too wired from his conversation before. He strips down to his boxers and collapses into the bed. Although he would love to continue talking with Hermione, there are no signs of life in any of the bedrooms, so it’s a safe bet that everyone in the loft is asleep.

Ron turns to his side and reaches his phone on his bedside table. Without a second thought, he starts typing away. Hopefully Hermione has her text notifications on silent. There is no reason she can’t have two story tellers in her life.

“She was about 5’6, had brown eyes, and wore a Hamilton t-shirt. She loved to watch romantic comedies and was a total coffee snob, even though she couldn’t tell the difference between a cappuccino and a latte. Her sultry gaze and bushy brown hair splayed wildly out at all angles, making her appear like a sexy medusa. In fact she could turn you rock hard in an instant. She had her whole life ahead of her. Or so she thought…”

Before he can overthink it, Ron presses send.

His heart rate quickens as he stares at his message. She’s asleep, so there is no way she’ll see it until tomorrow morning—

Then, three little dots appear at the bottom of his screen, and his palms begin to sweat. Oh shit.

“Oh my god, Ron, what is this?”

Well, he’s committed now.

“Little did she know, her life as she knew it was about to end. In walked a man, about 6’5, bright red hair, and a pale, yet chiseled adonis-like body. Nothing like her current boyfriend, but everything she wished her current boyfriend could be. He didn’t waste time writing fanfiction and playing sports, and instead crafted beautiful cocktails from the basement dive bar, was quite broke, and regularly forgot to do his laundry. Like a REAL MAN.”

Hermione is quicker to respond this time. “You’re ridiculous. But keep going please.”

Yes, ma’am. “And he wasn’t just a sex god. He was also a… dun dun dun… MURDERER.”

“LMAO. This is so mean. But I’m laughing so hard.”

Ron continues typing away. “She knew all of this. And yet, she still wanted him. She didn’t care if it was her last night on earth, because she knew it would be her best night on earth. And that was all she needed.”

“OMG now you’re getting carried away.”

She’s not wrong, yet something urges him to keep going. “She entered his apartment, so he could enter HER.”

Yeah, maybe he is getting carried away, but it’s fun, so what’s the harm? Plus, she promised to support his creative writing journey.

While waiting for Hermione’s response, Ron’s bedroom door bursts open, and Hermione stomps across the room. Her face is flushed and Ron can tell she is trying to hide a smile. “Phone, please?” she asks, her arm extended.

“No, I’m writing a story!”

Hermione stands her ground. “You’ve lost your phone privileges.”

“But I’m going to be the next Stephen King.”

Hermione lets out a laugh and dives onto the bed, wrestling his hand for his phone. She braces her knees on either side of him, pinning him between her legs. Ron makes a show of struggling, but as much as he wants to keep her there forever, he eventually lets her win.

“Fine,” he says, handing over his phone.

It only takes a moment for them to pause, limbs entangled, for Ron’s mind to run wild. How easy would it be for him to turn the moment serious? He could wrap an arm around her waist and pin her to him. He doubts she’d resist. She has a boyfriend, but she also seems surprisingly comfortable with her arms draped around Ron’s body. She knows he’s only wearing boxers under the covers, right?

They linger there for a moment that solidifies Ron’s inkling from before. She bites her lip, her eyes dart down toward the covers. The way she doesn’t immediately jump off of the bed when she notices that he’s in his underwear suggests that the friendzone is an arbitrary construct.

Ron steadies his voice in an effort to hide his rising heart beat. “Careful, Hermione. I’m a sex god with a habit for murder.”

Yeah, took one second for him to fuck that up.

“I fucking hate you,” she says, as she wrangles herself back up, his phone in her hand. “You are most definitely not a killer.”

Yeah, it took one second for him to fuck that up. However, Ron’s stomach flutters at the sound of her swearing. She hardly ever cusses, only when she’s with him. “Right, but am I a sex god?”

Hermione laughs. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Ron raises an eyebrow. “Care to find out?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that whiskey shot at the end of his shift. He’s acting a bit too bold.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Her answer echoes in Ron’s mind. He doesn’t miss the way Hermione averts her gaze, and her cheeks flush red.

“I know. We’ve established that.” Then, with a inhale to gain courage, he adds, “But if you didn’t?”

Maybe Ron imagines it, but a look flashes across her eyes, and the corners of her lips turn up in a smile. She shakes her head as if to halt the beginning of a fantasy before it runs wild. “I really should sleep. Goodnight, Ron.”

“Night, Hermione.”

Ron grins as she turns and leaves the room, fully aware that she never answered his question.

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