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miryum · 4 months

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A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo��s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

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frost-queen · 9 months

Text

Sudden attention (Reader!Potter x Fred Weasley)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: [Order of the Phoenix] Harry and you were each other's solace for many years. When you suddenly get boy attention he can't cope with it. Things tense up when you receive a letter at the Black manor certainly making one specific boy jealous, who is loving you in secret. [part 2 & part 3]

The pages of Hermione’s book fluttered between numbers as a strong wind caught up with it. She sighed loud having just been fast enough to place her finger at the right page she was. Wiping some hair out of her face, she turned all the pages back to hers. You stood up right close to the edge overlooking the Quidditch field where Gryffindor was practicing. – “Maybe you shouldn’t have brought a book outside.” – you pointed out looking over your shoulder to her. Hermione sighed soft shutting her book. – “Maybe you are right.” – she answered placing the book beside her.

She got up from the bench joining you. – “They are almost done with the warm-up.” – you told her as she let her arms rest on the railing. Without asking you told her where she could find Ron. – “He’s right over there.” – you pointed at the three hoops where Ron was waiting patiently in the air for. Hermione gave you a faint smile. You had seen their practices so much you could blindly say who was at what position. Fred and George both beaters were flying around to stretch their arms out. Harry, your brother and seeker overlooking it all.

You received a firm nudge from Hermoine making you look at her. – “Who’s he?” – she motioned with her head to the other side of the hoops. Your gaze went over the field to the other side seeing him sit on his broom. – “Oh that is McLaggen.” – you told her. – “He’s new this year, just like Ron. He’s father is a big man in the ministry. See that broom of his, his dad’s special gift for his entry this year.” – you told her making her frown. – “How do you know all of this?”

You shrugged your shoulders. – “I don’t have much else to do…” – you said to her. You notice the twins flying close to the stands, Fred waving at you. You waved back at him so used to their presence you didn’t think much else of it. The practice started as you focused on the training. A girl was flying towards McLaggen throwing the ball at him. He easily caught it, looking your way as he cheered proudly. You clapped for him just to be nice. Hermione looking all bitter as she wanted Ron to do better than him. Practice went on.

Ron had stopped a score a few times making Hermione lose her mind. Screaming and cheering as loud as she could. McLaggen seemed to look your way much during it. Fred too, but you were used to it. When practice ended were you surprised that McLaggen flew over to you. You barely noticed him, ready to go down when Hermione nudged you. – “Y/n!” – he called out making you turn to him. – “Cormac!” – you called out surprised making him smile. – “You know my name, good.” – he said making you smile sheepishly.

“I…I was wondering if I could dedicate the good practice to you?” – he offered making you frown. – “I hadn’t anything to do with it?” – you responded looking bluntly at Hermoine who pulled her shoulders up. – “You… you did… seeing you cheering gave me the strength I needed.” – he continued making Hermoine snort loud. You shot her a glare to not be so rude. Hermione pressed her lips together, looking away. McLaggen searched his inner pockets for something as Hermione whispered to you she would meet you downstairs on the fields.

You nodded at her as McLaggen pulled out a handkerchief. He patted it against his cheek before handing it out to you. You stared dumbfound at the piece of cloth. – “I want you to have it Y/n.” – he said with a smile. – “You… you want me to have this?” – you pointed out a bit shy while he nodded. You reached your hand out to grab it, not sure why but declining felt rude. Before your fingers could grab it, it got snatched away from his hands a broom flying past as it made you stumble back. McLaggen clenched his teeth, glaring at Fred. Fred held the handkerchief annoyed up.

“Giving your laundry to Y/n, McLaggen?” – Fred laughed out to swallow the bitterness aching inside of him down. – “Give it back Weasley!” – McLaggen bit back bothered. He grabbed at it as Fred moved it higher up. In no time came George and Harry flying over as well. – “That is for Y/n!” – McLaggen said loud. – “This stinky cloth?” – he announced loudly as George laughed loud. Fred held the handkerchief out to you. – “Do you want this Y/n?” – he asked hoping so badly you’d decline it. His expression practically begging you not to for it would pain him to see you accept it.

Fred freaked out letting go of it as it suddenly caught fire. It vaporized in front of him, turning his head to see Harry with his wand out. – “No!” – he simply called out. – “Now get changed McLaggen!” – he ordered. McLaggen puffed loud giving you one last wink before descending. Fred gritted his teeth ready to fly after him and give him a piece of his mind if it wasn’t for his brother stopping him. All three of them descended leaving you speechless. Having no idea what just happened. You went down as well meeting up with Hermione again.

Some moments later came Ron over. – “It was a stupid practice.” – he mumbled out annoyed. Hermione came to his side, shaking her head. – “You are still learning Ron. You did so good. Give it some time and you will be the best.” – she said giving him courage. You narrowed your eyes seeing McLaggen making his way over, yet he got bumped aside by Fred running excitedly over to you. Almost like it was intended. Fred threw his arm around you, turning you away from McLaggen. – “Say Potter how about some Butterbeer to celebrate?” – he ruffled his fingers through your hair.

George and Harry also arrived. Harry poked Fred in the armpit so that he would release his arm from around you. – “Butterbeer sounds great.” – you said with a smile. Harry took you by the elbow pulling you a bit aside from the others while leaving the field. – “Y/n… how well do you even know McLaggen?” – he asked looking over his shoulder. – “Not much really… why?” – you answered not understanding fully the intention of his questions. – “Nothing…” – he mumbled out. You saw Fred look behind him to you, making you smile sweetly back at him.

“It is just…” – Harry continued breaking through your gaze with Fred. – “I was wondering why he was suddenly interested in you. It’s not like he was before. I mean he probably never heard of you before joining the team and to be fair I don’t see in why.” – harry rambled on making you come to a sudden stop. – “Really?” – you called out slapping his hand away. – “I can’t believe you! Someone shows a bit of interest in me and the first thing you do is question it! Not everything has to do with you being the chosen one and them trying to get to you through me!” – you called out furious. – “I just don’t trust him!” – Harry replied loud.

“Give me one good reason?” – you demanded crossing your arms. – “He’s… he’s a guy!” – Harry used as an excuse making you puff loud. – “Unbelievable!” – you muttered walking away from him. – “Y/n! wait! I’m just protecting you from guys like him!” – Harry shouted after you whilst Fred came jogging over with George. – “Where is Y/n going?” – Fred asked looking at you. Harry sighed loud. – “I don’t get it why are boys suddenly interested in her?” – he said loudly.

George glanced over to his brother who avoided eye contact. – “Well she is getting older Harry…” – George spoke to sooth things over. That made Harry panic even more. – “Oh Merlin I can’t take it with these boys…” – his hands desperately in his hair. – “I’m freaking out. Am I freaking out?” – he asked George in a state of panic, grabbing onto his sweater. George nodded grabbing Harry by his wrists to pull his grip off him.

“Calm down Harry, it isn’t the end of the world that boys start to notice your sister. You didn’t think she would be with you forever did you?” – George chuckled out but seeing the concerned look in Harry’s eyes he stopped chuckling. He was absolutely thinking that. George sighed loud wrapping his arm around Harry. – “Don’t worry we’ll make sure McLaggen doesn’t date your sister.” – he looked over his shoulder to Fred throwing him a wink. Fred smiled shyly. The three of them caught up with Hermione and Ron to head to Hogsmeade.

“Y/n come down please!” – you heard come from downstairs. You made your way over to the stairs seeing several other doors open as well. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George popping their head out of their rooms as well. Harry got in motion to go after you. You were already going down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs stood Sirius Black. – “Uhm just Y/n Harry.” – he said waving Harry away. Harry nodded obeying his godfather. With a double feeling he went back upstairs. – “What’s going on?” – Ginny asked in a low voice. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“It wouldn’t be about last night would it?” – Hermione said scared. – “It was Ginny and I who couldn’t stop giggling at night and Y/n making sure we kept quiet.” – she confessed. – “Oh so that was what I was hearing.” – George laughed out. – “I thought you were keeping pigs in there.” – he joked receiving a firm nudge from Ginny. – “I can’t let her take the blame for that.” – Hermione said determined making her way to the stairs. Ron quickly grabbed her by the elbow before she could take the first step down.

“Let’s just wait what it is about. What if you wake something up that shouldn’t be woken up.” – he said referring to if Hermione spoiled what happened last night whilst they were supposed to be sleeping, she might infuriate Sirius or rather his mother Molly even more. Hermione sighed defeated letting him pull her back away from the stairs. – “We could always listen?” - Fred suggested as he was curious too. Not a moment later stood they all by the stairs, looking down. An ear on a string getting lowered to overhear the conversation. – “If we get caught.” – Ginny said.

Fred shushed her focusing on lowering the ear just right. Ron holding the other ear in his hand. The moment he could hear noises he shushed everyone. – “I can hear them.” – he said as they all squashed against him to overhear. Downstairs you stood in front of the table, your godfather sitting down with Lupin near him. – “Can you tell me what this is?” – he asked taking out a letter from his pocket. Molly cutting some vegetables at the other end of the table, stopped cutting to look curious your way.

“I’m not sure Godfather, you’ll have to tell me as I have no idea.” – you responded keeping your hands folded behind your back. Sirius placed the letter on the table, sliding it across. – “It’s a letter.” – he stated. – “A letter from a Cormac McLaggen.” – he continued as your eyes widened. – “May I ask who he is and why he sends you a letter?” – Sirius questioned as you were still stunned on the fact that he wrote you a letter.

Upstairs Harry was rioting. Ready to rush downstairs and obliterate the letter. Fred’s hand was shaking with jealousy as he couldn’t steady the ear. – “Keep it steady, I can’t hear them!” – Ron called out. George took over steadying the ear back again in his grip.

“I do not know of any letter Godfather. I certainly never asked him to write me.” – you answered truly not knowing why. – “So who is he?” – Sirius wanted to know, speaking rather rudely. Lupin held his hand out to calm his friend down. Molly stopped cutting her vegetables coming over. Wiping her hands on her apron. – “Isn’t it obvious!” – she called out coming to stand beside you. – “That is a letter from an admirer.” – Molly said placing her hands on your shoulders. Sirius chuckled loud almost mockingly as he snatched his glass from the table.

Molly turned you to her. – “So who is he? Is he handsome? Well mannered? Tell us dear.” – her smile ever so warm. – “No!” – Sirius slammed his fist hard on the table. – “I don’t want to know!” – he called out. Molly rolled her eyes at him. – “She’s not a kid anymore.” – she declared. – “I don’t care, no boys till you are at least 30… or 40!” – Sirius stated making your eyes widen. – “Sirius!” – Molly shouted. – “You are unbelievable!” – Sirius only shrugged his shoulders not caring one bit for it.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll figure something out.” – she reassured you holding her hand underneath your chin, making you smile warmly at her. You always considered her a mother to you. You eyed the letter on the table, curious as to what it read. You had never gotten so much boy attention you were curious as to what boys in love would write about you.

“Can I read it?” – you asked already moving to take the letter. Sirius slapped his hand down on the letter, stopping you. – “I shall read it first!” – he insisted upon, sliding the letter to him. You watched him open the letter with annoyance. He flipped the letter open, reading out loud. – “My cheerful Y/n.” – he read out loud with a scoff. – “Oh how delightful.” – Molly said to you as Sirius gripped onto the letter tight. His eyes going over the words rapidly, each word agitating him more as he read it in silence. – “Well what does it say?” – Molly questioned as you were waiting patiently too. You jumped out of your skin when loud thumping thundered down the stairs.

“No!” – Fred called out barging into the room. Wand out, the tip of his wand sparked. Moments later the letter evaporated in Sirius’s hands. Out of breath he grabbed you by the shoulders, turning you to him. – “Have you seen it? Read anything from it?” – he panicked frantically as you shook your head rapidly. That made him sigh loud letting his forehead fall against yours. Molly quirking a suspicious brow up. – “Good riddance.” – Sirius said wiping some ashes from the letter off the table.

“Fred what are you doing?” – you called out pushing him a bit off you. – “I…I…I was looking out for you. McLaggen is a toad.” – he said confused about your outburst. You puffed loud, turning your posture away from him. – “As soon as a boy takes interest in me you all go mad!” – you shouted not only referring to him, but Harry and Sirius as well. – “But Y/n…” – Fred said trying to reason with you. You pulled your hand away before he could take it. – “I don’t want your meddling! What is it? Do you think I’m not pretty enough to get attention?” – you scolded shooting a glare at Sirius.

Lupin cleared his throat, looking away. – “No I just…” – Fred interrupted as you rolled your eyes at him. You moved away from him closer to Molly. Molly shook her head at her son as she threw an arm around you. Then looking over her shoulder, she threw him a wink, knowing very well that he fancied you. – “Boys are insane.” – you told Molly as she guided you away. She could only nod with a hum.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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h0esbetrippin · 2 months

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Mcgonagall watching two

mischievous, funny brothers

grow up together and be thrown

into a war just for one of them to die

(James & Sirius)

Mcgonagall watching two

mischievous, funny brothers

grow up together and be thrown

into a war just for one of them to die

(Fred & George)

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undrrcxxt · 9 months

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p links (18+)

marauder era

golden era

#harry potter #james potter #james potter x reader #marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger #ron weasley #ron weasly x reader #ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory

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wolfstardaughter-jj · 2 years

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Y/n: *Yelling and screaming at Harry in Welsh*

Harry: *yelling and screaming back in French*

Fred and Draco: *just admiring them*

Ron to George and Lee: Should we stop them?

George: Nah, we're just getting to the fun part. *Summons popcorn*

Lee:*grabs some popcorn* My money's on Y/n.

George: Oh you're on.

Hermione, sighs: *wondering how she stayed friends with this bunch*

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dramioneblog · 4 months

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“the auction” by lovesbitca8

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marauder-queen · 2 years

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Remus: I think I am in love with Sirius.

Lily: I'm sorry?

Remus: I said, I think I'm-

Lily: No, I heard what you said, I'm just sorry for you.

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mori221c · 6 months

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Harry and Draco's Halloween adventure!!🖤✨🦇

With the help of a gobbler demon and a smart angel, they set out to find the evil bat of Slytherin. One after one they meet mysterious allies on their journey. Who- or "what"- is the man under the red riding hood? Is the outlaw who claims himself to be Harry's Godfather trustworthy? And when they finally stand before the legendary vampire, what astounding truth will be revealed?

#halloween #happy halloween #halloween 2023 #drarry #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #harry potter #draco malfoy #hermione granger #ron weasley #ronald weasley #severus snape #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #lily potter #james potter #harry potter fanart

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veryberryjelly · 3 months

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veryberryjelly's 1k sleepover !!

aaaaahhhh!! welcome to my 1k sleepover. i am very lucky to have so many people interested in reading my work and i want to open up my requests specifically for this event !

ENJOY !

sleepover itinerary { 26/1 - 8/2 }

〉a round of twister ( send me a description of yourself and a fandom if you wish and i will ship you with a character or pairing ! )

〉karaoke time ( send me a song and a character and i'll write a fic inspired by the lyrics ! )

〉magazine collaging ( send me a character and some form of prompt and i'll make a moodpboard inspired by it ! )

〉movie binge ( send me any sort of thought or idea for a fic with a character / ship and i'll write something for it ! )

〉bedtime story ( send me a prompt from this list along with a character and i'll write a fic/ blurb on it ! )

EXTRA INFO 〉〉 request info ⚜︎ who i write for ⚜︎ ⇢ support me with a ko-fi

everything for this event can be found 〉here〈

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bbomrancid · 5 months

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being a marauders fan is trying to work on at least 4 marauders ff drafts, ff drafts for 3 other fandoms, focus on updating 2 ao3 ffs, and learning a new hobby or two while playing Taylor Swift or Hozier in the background all while trying to pass school and apply for college for either an english major, to study law, or to become a doctor of some sort

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book-place · 1 year

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American Pie

Warnings: Harry Potter series spoilers, character death, violence, cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Harry Potter x aunt reader

Request: Hello I was wondering if you could do a part 2 of the potter twins . Like where y/n gets hold of Harry and sends him off and stuff and seeing him grow up and he can like rely on you ? And like your a cool aunt and everyone loves you ? You don’t have to but sorry for bothering you

Request by: @bellboy2107

*not my gif*

Summary: Since your brother was now gone, Harry was the only person that mattered to you

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!; This is a part 2 for Potter Twins

Inspired by: American Pie by Don McLean

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Long long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile

Slowly, your eyes opened and tried to adjust to the light streaming through the windows directly at you, as if on purpose to wake you up.

Stifling a groan, you sat upright and dropped your head into your hands, not wanting to face the day. Not another one. You didn’t know how much longer you could do it without your brother by your side. And it had only been a month.

The singular thought keeping you going was the thought that one day you would be able to get Harry back, your last link to James and your only surviving family member.

It had been a struggle tracking him down, it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. But you weren’t yet ready to give up.

You had meant it, you would find the boy. Even if it was the last thing you ever did.

And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance

Picking up the Daily Prophet, you shoveled a spoonful of eggs into your mouth and began reading.

The news had long since slowed down, and tried to move on from the war by talking about it. As if that would erase it from everyone else’s memory. As if it never happened.

It was quite boring, the new players for a quidditch team, some Ministry of Magic mishap with the muggle thing called hand sanitizer mixed with a hair growing potion.

But then you got to the last page.

The reporters finally got a full list of everybody that passed on during the war. Names on random spots of the page jumped at your eyes in sharp, dangerous pangs.

James Potter. Lily Potter. Marlene McKinnon. Fabian Prewett. Gideon Prewett-

You harshly pushed away from the table, not paying any mind to the high pitched scraping sound it made against the floor, and your breathing picked up.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t be here, not without them. Not without them. Not without them. Not without-

Harry.

You needed to find Harry. He was the only thing that would keep you grounded. And if you didn’t find him soon, you don’t know what you would do. What you would live to regret.

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

After finishing buttoning up your cloak, you let out a sigh, slowly letting your eyes drift to the dresser in the corner of the room, the one that held a picture on its surface.

In it, you were jumping on James’s back making funny faces, stuck in a timeless loop of happiness.

What the camera hadn’t picked up on was Mia and Fleamonts smiling faces behind the flash, capturing the moment for all of eternity.

It was one of the only photos you could stomach to keep on display.

But February made me shiver

Finally. You had finally done it.

Frozen, you stood before the plain brown door with unseeing eyes and a mile-a-minute mind.

Harry James Potter was sitting just beyond this door.

You had finally been able to track him down with mountains of spells and potions that had taken months to go through. You had a first gone to Dumbledore, hoping he would give you any indication as to where your nephew was, but he offered you nothing, claiming it was safer that way. You had proceeded to storm out of the room, slamming the door harsh enough to shake the walls behind you.

The wind rushed against your skin like a swarm of needles, and you shuddered a little, officially breaking out of your thoughts and you raised your fist to knock on the door.

With every paper I'd deliver

You couldn’t believe your own eyes, not as you stared down at one year old Harry in your arms, staring up at you with wide eyes and an even wider, gummy smile.

You hadn’t wasted another second after standing on the Dursleys doorstep to storm in wand ablaze and demand you take your nephew.

The cowards didn’t even put up a fight as they let you take him, but you wouldn’t complain- you were able to get in and out without any trouble.

Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step

“Auny Y/n! Auny Y/n!” Young Harry babbled, making grabby motions with his chubby hands up at you from his crib.

You smiled softly, reaching your arm out and allowing his tiny fingers to wrap around your much larger ones.

The second a knock sounded through your home, your entire body stiffened and your hand automatically went to the wand you kept in your pocket at all times.

Turning on your heel, you left your giggling nephew behind as you slowly crept towards the front door, unsure of what was awaiting you on the other end.

Tentatively, you peered through the small window near the door and let out a sigh of relief, stance automatically relaxing as you opened it to reveal the headmaster of Hogwarts. Though you were still angry with him for not revealing Harry’s location, at least it was him and not anyone else.

“What do you want, Albus?” You asked, long since having stopped using teacher-student formalities.

He looked up at you with sad eyes, “I-“

Harry let out a particularly loud babble behind you, and your body once again stiffened.

What if he tried to take Harry away from you? What if you couldn’t stop him? What if-

“First of all,” His tone softened, “How is young Harry doing?”

You eyed the man skeptically, “He’s doing fine,”

He chuckled lightly, “I assure you, I’m not here to take him away, Miss. Potter.” His words made you calm down once more, “But I am afraid I come bearing bad news.”

It was like someone was playing with an on and off switch with your emotions, allowing you to think everything was okay before flipping the switch teasingly.

“I understand that you haven’t always been the closest with Sirius Black,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “No,” You admitted, “Not like James is-was, but he’s still my friend.” You cleared your throat slightly at the small error you made.

“I’m afraid Mr. Black has been sent to Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.”

You didn’t know if it was possible to have your heart torn into any more pieces than it already had been. But if it was possible, then that’s exactly what happened to you in that moment.

Though you and Sirius hadn’t in fact been very close, you had been there for him when he moved into your house that one summer after things got really bad with his parents. The two of you could always joke around in a class together and be comfortable around each other.

You never could have pictured him killing one of his best friends- even though you barely knew the other boy. From what you saw though, Peter was a sweet and gentle kid that would do anything for his friends. Just like how Sirius used to bed

“I shall leave you alone once more,” Albus declared softly, “And Miss. Potter?” He called after a silent moment. “I truly am sorry for everything.”

You slammed the door in his face.

I can’t remember if I cried, when I read about his widowed bride

For the first time in weeks, you picked up the Daily Prophet after being able to put Harry down for his first nap in a while, that boy was as stubborn as his father.

You casually flipped through the pages, skimming over the sections that went on about quidditch matches finally starting up again after the war. What you hadn’t expected to see, was the grinning faces of your brother and sister in law on the last page.

Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide when you realized that it was a tribute to the two of them from some of their friends from their time in Hogwarts. Some kids that knew them well enough to be friendly, but not enough to have any right to print a long section in the paper about how impactful their lives were.

It felt as though your lungs were closing in on themselves as you stared down with watered eyes at the words. You thought you had gotten over it. You thought you would be able to move on.

But seeing the page-long writing about them pushed you over the edge and you dropped the paper as you collapsed to the ground with a sob.

You reached a hand up to cover your mouth so you wouldn’t wake Harry, who was sleeping soundly in the other room over.

Apparently you weren’t quiet enough though, because Harry’s cries soon joined yours, alerting you of his newly awoken form.

Quickly, you reached up and harshly wiped your tears away. You wouldn’t let your own grief get in the way of taking care of Harry. You were going to do everything in your power to look after the boy to the best of your ability.

“Hey, Harry,” You smiled softly as you entered the room, bending down and scooping him into your arms, “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m here now.”

But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died

“Auntie! Auntie!” Harry cheered, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled into the room, “Look! Look!”

You raised your head with an amused twinkle in your eyes as you moved your gaze to meet his, “What is it?”

Grinning wildly, he took a large eveleope from behind his back and presented it to you, “It’s my Hogwarts acceptance letter!”

Pride and happiness swelled and whirrled around in your chest and you broke out into a grin that was similar to his, “Oh, good job, Harry!” You cried, wrapping your nephew into a tight hug that he excitedly returned.

“Merlin, I can’t believe I’m going to Hogwarts,” Harry rambled, “I mean, after all the stories you’ve told I feel like I’ve already been there, but it’s still-“

“Harry,” You cut him off with a small laugh, pulling away and putting your hands on his shoulders, “Do you know what this means?”

He shook his head, messy hair that was much like James’s flopping back and forth, “What?” There was curiosity in his voice.

Your grin widened, “It means that we need to take a trip to Diagon Alley!”

The boy let out a cheer, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet.

With that, the two of you took the floo network and began shopping around for any and everything that he could possibly need during his year, all while memories of the past tickled the back of your mind. Of the summers before every September that you and your family would spend roaming these very streets.

As the two of you sat down at a small table with some ice cream, you couldn’t help the small, sad smile you sent Harry’s way.

“Wha’?” He asked through a mouthful of the food.

You shook your head softly, “This just reminds me of times with your father.” You admitted in a small whisper.

He smiled understandably and reached over to squeeze your hand, “It’s alright, Aunt Y/n.” He comforted, “Because you have me now.”

You gave him a teary smile and patted his hand appriciantly, “Thank you, Harry.” You reached over with your other hand and ran it through his messy locks, “I know I do.”

So bye-bye, Miss American Pie

“Your grandmother always used to fuss over me and your father like this,” You mumbled, dusting imaginary lint off of Harry’s shirt, “I can't believe I’m turning into my mother.”

The boy smiled, “Getting more like an old lady every day.” He teased.

You scowled, reached up and lightly slapped him upside the head, “Watch it,” You mockingly scolded, “Or else I’ll make you live in the closet under the stairs when you get home.”

His grin widened and he reached over and wrapped his arms around your waist, “I’ll see you at Christmas.” He mumbled into your shirt.

Harshly, you blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of your nephew over something as simple as him leaving to go to Hogwarts.

“I shouldn’t be crying, right?” You mumbled into his ear.

He pulled away with a laugh and shrugged, “I don’t mind.”

You smiled at him through your blurry vision and reached up to cup his cheek, “I want you to write all the time. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything. I mean it, Harry.”

“I will.” He promised, hugging you quickly again so you could kiss the top of his head before standing back and picking up his bag, “I better go before the express leaves without me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You cleared your throat, “Good idea.”

“I love you, Auntie!” He called before disappearing into the crowd.

“Love you too,” You whispered to the empty place he had once been standing in.

“Oh, darling.” The familiar voice of none other than Molly Weasley cooed, making her way over to where you stood and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, “First year is always hard.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I don’t know how you’ve done this so many times.” You admitted.

“It’s still hard,” She confessed, “But it started to get a bit easier over time.” She turned her head to smile at you, “I’m just glad that Ron and Harry are together.”

You hummed in agreement, glad that he was with the childhood friends that he met in nursery school, causing you and the rest of the family to grow close as well over the years. Well, after they got over the fact that he was The Harry Potter, that is.

“I’m gonna miss him,” You mumbled.

“I know, but he’s going to do so well at Hogwarts. You’re going to be so proud of him.” The woman reassured you.

You smiled at her, “Both of them are gonna make us really proud.” Bringing her son into this as well.

Molly shook her head helplessly, “It’s either that or we will be getting a letter for their expulsion in a week.”

“Fred and George made it this far.” You teased with a small snigger.

She threw her head back with a laugh, “Indeed they did.”

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

You smiled widely at the letter that sat in your hands, reading and rereading everything that Harry had to tell you about his first week at school.

About the new friends he made, the adventures he already had in Gryffindor house, and even some of the enemies he made. Though, you couldn’t fault him for hating any son of Lucius Malfoy.

What you had said to Molly was true, you were going to miss Harry. But Hogwarts would be good for him. He would be able to make memories just like you had. The good and the bad.

Not only that, but he wouldn’t have a war to worry about. He would be able to enjoy being a kid within the walls.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye

“Happy Christmas!” You and Harry cheered in sync the moment you stepped through the doors of the Burrow, piles of presents in your arms.

“Oh, Happy Christmas!” Molly cried happily, coming around the corner and beginning to help you with everything, “Boys!” She snapped, “Come help the Potters with their things!” Before smiling kindly at the two of you once more, emitting laughs from your lips.

“Thank you, Ron.” You breathed out once he took a particularly heavy wrapped box before turning and nodding in greeting to Arthur, “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, yourself.” The man chirped back while grinning and pulling Harry into a quick side hug before ushering the two of you into the living room where the rest of the Weasley children sat.

Quickly, they all scrambled up at the sight of the two of you and you all exchanged hugs and joyful greetings.

“Can we please do the presents now, mum?” Ginny whined, “We’ve been waiting all morning!”

Her mother looked down at her sternly, but you were quick to wrap an arm around Mollys shoulder and smile at her, “Come on, Mol, it’s Christmas!”

“Yeah! Listen to Aunt Y/n!” Fred piped up, George nodding along with his twin.

“Oh, alright,” Even Molly couldn’t hide the smile that sat upon her features as she said it though, “Pass them out, all of you.”

You looked up in surprise and slightly wide eyes when Ron shyly handed you a gift, “This is for you,” He mumbled.

“O-oh, thank you, Ron.” You said genuinely, not having expected anything at all.

As soon as you opened it, tears began to fill your eyes when you saw the contents. It was a sweater with your first initial sewn into it.

“I know I normally just do it for the kids,” Molly spoke, “But I figured you could use one too.”

You bit down on your lip slightly, running a hand gently down the soft fabric. It reminded you of when your own mother used to knit, “Thank you, Mol.” You whispered, thankful that the children were too preoccupied with their own gifts to realize what was going on.

“Oh, come now. Cheer up,” She rubbed your back comfortingly, “It’s Christmas.”

You smiled over at her, leaning your head against her shoulder, “Thank you.” You repeated.

Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"

“What the bloody hell happened?” You demanded as soon as you slammed open the doors to the Hospital Wing and stormed into the room with a cloud of rage sitting over your head.

“Ah, Miss. Potter. So nice of you to join us.” Dumbledore spoke, standing up from beside your nephew's bed, where he lay unconscious. The man spoke in such a way as if you had simply run into each other at the grocery store.

“Cut the bullshit, Albus.” You snapped with a deadly glare set on your face, “Your letter only told me that Harry was unconscious. You didn’t tell me a single thing about how he ended up unconscious.”

He sighed, cutting right to the chase, “I am afraid that Voldemort has returned.”

You froze in your steps, heart hammering mercilessly against your rib cage, “What did you just say?” As if he would change his words by your tone alone.

“This might be a conversation best had while sitting down-“ He gestured to some visitor chairs.

“I much prefer to stand.” You seethed, unable to slow your racing thoughts.

So the headmaster explained.

Voldemort. The man who slaughtered everyone you loved in the name of his pathetic war- and almost succeeded with taking Harry- was back and he went after your nephew again to try and seek revenge.

“I thought Hogwarts was safe.” It wasn’t hard to miss the way you had shifted your body so that you were standing in front of Harry’s bed, as if you alone could create a wall of protection around the boy, “This is supposed to be a place that will protect him.”

“Indeed,” Was the only answer you were offered.

You scoffed, “I hope you know that he will not be returning next year after all this.”

“Are you sure that is wise?” The older man asked with a single raised eyebrow, “It is your choice Miss. Potter, but don’t you think that it’s better for Harry to be surrounded by some of the finest witches and wizard staff who will now keep a closer eye on him?”

That made you hesitate.

“You alone can’t protect the boy from the world.” He continued.

Slowly, you turned your head to stare down at Harry, who’s steady rise and fall of his chest was the only thing indicating that he was still alive.

This will be the day that I die

“I don’t like this,” You mumbled, crossing your arms over yourself as your eyes flitted around the train station.

He sighed, “I know, Aunt Y/n, but I think Dumbledore was right, Hogwarts is the safest place for me to be.”

Finally, you met his eyes and sighed, dropping your arms to the side, “I know,” You admitted, “But that still doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”

Harry gave you his best attempt at a smile, “I know.”

“Here,” You reached forward and plucked his glasses off his face before rubbing them softly against your shirt and placing them back on the bridge of his nose once you deemed them clean enough, “Remember what I said?”

“Notify you the minute anything seems off.” He repeated the words you had drilled into his head over and over again over summer break.

“Right,” You breathed out, “Now, are you sure you still want to go-“

“Yes.” He smiled a little bit, “I’ll be fine. I have Ron and Hermione.”

You huffed a bit, “I know that, but-“

“Auntie.” He spoke sternly, “You don’t need to worry, it’ll be fine.”

You were silent for a moment, before you put your hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay, alright.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Did you write the Book of Love?

“This is the second time,” You ranted angrily, pacing up and down Dumbledore's office, “This is the second time in two years that Harry was put into immediate danger in this school.”

Albus sighed, eyes following you back and forth, “I assure you, it was never my intention to put him in any harms way-“

“I never said it was.” You rounded on him, “But it still seemed to happen under your watch.”

He pursed his lips together, “That is very true.”

You reached up and ran a hand through your hair in frustration, “What am I supposed to do now? You claim that Hogwarts is still the safest place for him, but he was attacked in this building twice.”

“I assure you, Miss. Potter, necessary precautions will be taken to ensure the safety of him and all of the other children.”

You glared at him, “I was told something like that last time. But then Harry was still attacked by a basilisk.”

It was silent for a moment before he spoke up again, “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want to further worry you nor Harry, but there is a possibility that Voldemort is still out there.”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, “But you said after last year-“

“I know what I said,” He agreed, “But there is a large chance that I was wrong.”

Your eyes snapped over to meet his, “Having him here is better than having him outside of here if he decides to come for him again.” You whispered quietly.

Albus nodded, “My thoughts exactly.”

Slowly, you nodded and turned to leave, but paused with your hand on the doorknob, “Let’s not tell Harry yet. Just in case it’s not true.”

“You have my word.”

With that, you exited the office, softly shutting the door behind you.

And do you have faith in God above?

“Remus,” You froze, breathing out the name almost as if you didn’t believe that you were saying it.

“Y/n,” He was in a similar state to yours, staring at you with wide eyes, neither one of you paying any mind to the commotion of the platform going on around you.

The two of you hadn’t talked since that day you shoved him away while grieving for James. Sure, he tried to reach out from time to time, but ultimately decided that space was what you had needed the best.

You swallowed, “What- what are you doing here.”

“I’m going to be the new defense against the dark arts professor.” He informed you while clearing his throat, “It’s good to see you.” He added after a moment.

You shook away your shock and decided upon smiling kindly at the man, “You too, Remus, you too.”

“Is…” He trailed off, seeming to try and find the right words.

“Harry just got onto the train with some friends.” You informed him, knowing exactly what he was going to ask.

“Third year?” You nodded your head and he let a small breath loose, “It feels like we were just his age.”

Your smile turned sad, “We might as well have been.”

The train whistled and both of you turned to look at it.

“I should go.” He spoke, giving you one of his famously kind smiles.

Your face turned serious, “Listen, Remus. I know that I’m in no place to be asking for favors, but-“

“Of course I’ll watch over Harry.” He said softly, “And not just for James. For you too.” He looked you in the eyes to show his sincerity.

“Thank you.”

He shook his head, beginning to walk backwards towards the train, “There’s no need to thank me.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest because even though you hadn’t spoken to the man in years, you knew that he was one of the only people alive that you would trust with not just yours, but Harry’s life as well.

If the Bible tells you so

You gripped the Daily Prophet tightly, eyes scanning over the same line again and again. The one that read that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban.

The very man that had not only betrayed Lily and James, but had also killed Peter right afterwards. And now he was loose and running amok in Merlin knows where.

As long as he stayed far away from Harry, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Even after all he did. It was best not to dwell on the man who had taken everything from you, it would only consume your entire being.

Do you believe in rock 'n' roll?

You crept up the creaking stairs of the Shrieking Shack after receiving a vague letter from Remus that you had no reason not to wholeheartedly believe.

He would never under any circumstances lie about Sirius Black not being the traitor that you all thought him to be. That Peter was really it and he was still alive. You knew you could believe it because James and Lily’s deaths are nothing to joke about, and Remus more than anyone knew that. So that’s why you had snuck into Hogwarts and were meeting him here.

As soon as you reached the top of the stairs, your eyes locked onto Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all cowering in a corner of a top room and you rushed to their sides. Immediately, you reached out to cup Harry and Ron’s cheeks as your eyes scanned over Hermione for any sign of injury.

“Are you guys alright?” You asked worriedly.

Without a word your nephew guestered shakily to a figure behind you, and you whipped around to face what he was so scared of.

Remus standing beside none other than Sirius Black.

Though he was dirty and had changed so, so much from the last time you had seen one another, you didn’t hesitate to spring forward and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a hug.

True, you had never been as close to him as your brother had. But you still spent most of your summers with him and he had once been someone you could consider a friend. And you didn’t have many of those now adays.

“What are you doing?” Ron shrieked in horror before either you or the man could get a word in to one another after pulling away, “He’s trying to kill us.”

“No, he is not, Mr. Weasley.” Remus explained patiently, “But I am afraid that there is another being in this room that is.”

“A-Auntie?” Harry asked shakily, “What’s going on?”

Before you could respond, a rat you hadn’t even noticed leapt forward and transformed into a man midair. A man you knew to be Peter Pettigrew.

The sight of him alone made you see red. Every bit of pain, grief, and despair that you had felt within the last thirteen years all coming to crash down on you at once because it was all due to him. He was the reason James was dead.

Ignoring Sirius’s hand that flew out to stop you, you stormed over and grabbed Peters collar with so much power that the large man was left stumbling, and pulled out your wand, jabbing it painfully into his neck.

“You dirty little rat.” You seethed, “How dare you,” You took a deep breath and repeated the question, shouting it at the top of your lungs this time. You missed the way the three children flinched at the suddenness of it.

You sensed the two men coming to stand at your sides.

“I’m going to kill you for what you did.” There was no threat behind your words, it was only a clear statement.

Gently, Remus guided your hand down, “He’ll pay for what he did.” He whispered the promise in your ear, “By sending him to Azkaban.”

You didn’t reply, just pushed your wand into his neck harder, making him whimper pathetically.

“Harry doesn’t need you going to prison too.” Sirius muttered from beside you, and those words finally made you pause.

You glanced over to where he stood, being held back from springing forward to help you by his friends, and you finally, reluctantly released your death grip on Peter.

As soon as you let go though, you reeled your fist back and sent it flying forward until you heard a satisfying crunch and a scream of pain from the traitor.

Without a look back, you allowed Remus and Sirius to grab either arm and begin to drag the struggling man out and you went to the trio that was still in the corner.

“Are you all alright?” You repeated your earlier question.

“Was that him? The man that turned my parents in?” Were Harry’s only words.

Ron and Hermione silently exchanged glances before slipping out of the room to give the two of you some space.

Biting down on your lip, you nodded your head and immediately wrapped your arms around the boys shaking form, “Yeah, yeah it was.”

“Did you almost kill him?” His words were slightly muffled through where he was resting his head against your shirt.

“Yes,” You didn’t even try to lie to him, “And I would have if I wasn’t reminded that you still needed me out here, not needing me to be thrown into Azkaban.”

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes, “But that’s where he’s going?”

You sighed and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. That’s where he’s going.”

Can music save your mortal soul?

“I miss James.” Sirius spoke up after a comfortable silence had been sitting over the two of you for many moments.

You hummed, glancing at the man from the corner of your eye, “Yeah, I do too.” You said quietly.

You both sat a little bit away from the group, staring up at Hogwarts, so beautiful and lit up at night.

Neither of you spoke for another minute before you blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

He turned to you with furrowed eyebrows, “What for?”

“I didn’t at first…” You spoke hesitantly, “But I guess over time I began to believe that you really had betrayed them.” You shook your head roughly with a scoff, “There was just not other explanation and I couldn’t let myself live like that anymore. Going it over again and again in my head without end to try and figure out what really happened-“

“Hey,” He cut you off by placing a hand on your shoulder, “It’s alright, Y/n. I get it, I promise you, I do.”

“It’s still not fair to you.” You whispered.

“Maybe not,” He agreed, “But at least now we both can rest knowing that we put away the man that really betrayed them.”

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

You let curiosity take over and you blindly let your feet begin to walk by themselves towards the kitchen, where music appeared to be floating from.

Pausing at the entrance, you took in the sight before you. Harry was gently bobbing his head up and down to the music that played out of an old music player that sat on the counter as he made cookies a few feet away.

“This was your father’s favorite song,” You made your presence known with a small voice.

He startled, eyes whipping up to you frantically before relaxing when he realized it was just you, “Really?” He asked.

You nodded, “He would drive me and mum crazy by blasting it in his room with Sirius. They would sing at the top of their lungs to see who would get yelled at first between the two of them. It was always James though.” A fond smile played at the ends of your lips.

“Sirius didn’t tell me he liked this song.” He said, resuming his previous activities.

“Eh,” You waved it off, “There’s too many memories we have with your father to keep them all straight.”

He laughed lightly at that, “Wanna help with the cookies?”

You smiled and went to stand beside him, listening to your brother’s favorite song.

Well I know that you're in love with him

“Aunt Y/n?” Harry called hesitantly, shuffling into your room.

“What’s up?” You asked, looking up from your book with a raised eyebrow.

The boy's cheeks turned red and he began stuttering, “U-uh, how- how do I tell a girl that- that I l-like her?” He looked like he was about to die from embarrassment.

Immediately, you snapped your book shut and patted the empty spot on your bed next to you for him to sit down, which he did.

“Who is it?” You asked automatically, a small smirk pulling at the ends of your lips.

Quickly, he shot out of his seat, “You know what, this was a bad idea-“

“Hey, hey, no.” You stopped smirking, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just excited, is all. Tell me about her.”

“Her- her name is Cho,” He mumbled, eyes averted to where he was fiddling with his fingers, “And I really like her but I don’t know what to do.”

You smiled softly, wrapping your arm around the boys shoulder and pulling him down onto the bed beside you, “Just tell her how you feel.” You told him, “That’s the best thing you can do. No big gestures or confusing signals, just the honest truth.”

“What if she doesn’t like me back?” He looked up at you as he softly spoke the question.

You squeezed his shoulders lightly, “Then she’s an idiot.” You reassured him.

He laid there for a moment, taking in your words before nodding along slightly, “Thank you,” He mumbled.

You playfully poked his side, “Look at my little boy growing up.” You teased.

Harry scoffed a bit, cheeks tinting red again as he tried to push your hands away, “Shut up.” He protested weakly.

“Hey,” You pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “Let me know how it goes. Okay, bud?”

He nodded, standing up and quickly scurrying out of the room to be saved from any further embarrassment.

'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym

“The Triwizard Tournament?” You burst out, leaning back in your chair and running a hand through your hair, “What kind of bullshit is that?”

Harry grimaced, “I kinda don’t have a choice in it, Aunt Y/n.”

You rubbed two hands down your face before looking down at your nephew through the floo network, “I know, but why does it always have to be you?”

“Because I'm special?” He weakly joked.

A scoff escaped your lips, “Yeah, that’s special alright… Just- just promise me that you’re gonna be careful.”

“Of course I will,” He reassured you before shaking his head and laughing to himself, “I feel like this is the only conversation we ever have.”

“That,” You glared pointedly at him, “Is because of your father. The two of you always seem to attract trouble, whether you want to or not.”

You both kicked off your shoes

“He-he was killed right-right in front of me-“ Harry sobbed into your arms as you gently rocked him back and forth, tears of your own sitting in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You kept mumbling over and over again into his hair, where you had buried your face.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to him or anything that he was forced to live through. And of course, the Triwizard Tournament just had to be added to that list, and Voldemort was really back this time.

“Cedric is gone,” He choked out, hands gripping onto your arms tightly- desperately- as if they were a lifeline for him.

“I know, I know,” You blinked and tears slipped down your face, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Then I dig those rhythm and blues

“We’re getting the Order back together,” Sirius informed you, leaning back in his chair with a small grin, “So I suppose I’m here to recruit you.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “Because the last Order ended so well.” You shot out sarcastically.

The man’s smile faltered, “It’ll be different this time.”

For some reason, those words only made you angrier, and you harshly pushed back your chair and stood up, pointing accusingly at him with a glare , “In what sense?” You hissed, “In the sense that I don’t have a brother to lose anymore? In the sense that it’s just another war?”

He shook his head from side to side sadly, clearly trying not to take your words to heart, “In the sense that you have Harry to think about and look after this time.”

That made you freeze, just like he knew it would, and you dropped back down into your seat, “Shit,” You cursed softly, running a hand through your hair.

“We will win this time,” He told you confidently, reaching out and squeezing your hand, “We’ll avenge James, Lily, and everyone else that we lost the first time around.”

Hesitantly, you began nodding, “Fine, I’m in.”

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck

“What the hell were you thinking?” You shouted over the chaos, eyes panickingly sweeping over Harry for any sign of pain, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders.

All around you, Order members and Death Eaters shot curses at one another with no sign of slowing.

“I- I thought he had you and Sirius,” The boy quickly explained, “I couldn’t reach either of you and it was driving me crazy, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.”

“Why would Voldemort have brought us to the Ministry?” You hissed at his idiocy before sighing heavily and stepping back slightly, “Okay, okay, I would’ve done the same. I’m sorry for getting mad.”

Tears began to fill his eyes, “I’m sorry for coming here.”

“Hey, hey,” You rushed to comfort him, “It’s not your fault.”

“Y/n!” Sirius called with a grunt from nearby, narrowly blocking a curse thrown his way, “I hate to break up your little Potter reunion, but I could use some help over here!”

With one last smile at Harry, you tightened your grip on your wand and took off in Sirius’s direction, the sound of footsteps behind you letting you know that he had followed you.

Quickly, you threw a stunning curse towards Sirius opponent, sending him flying back into a nearby wall.

“It’s just like old times!” Only Sirius could grin that wildly despite the circumstances.

You scoffed playfully as Harry joined the two of you, both blocking two separate curses in sync, “If this were like old times, then you’d be owing me a drink for saving you!” You teased.

For a split second, he diverted his attention away from the task at hand to smile wider at you, “Maybe I’ll get you one-“

He was cut off by a blinding flash of green being sent directly to his chest.

Both of you froze in sync and you were forced to watch with your feet glued to the ground as he looked between you and Harry with a small smile before his body was pulled into a nearby veil.

Your blood curling scream sounded through the room long before Harry’s did, and you were practically numb to the arm that Remus wrapped around both of you as you each sobbed violently.

You weren’t even able to register the way the man himself was shaking with tears, but he didn’t let up his grip on you and Harry.

How many more times did this have to happen for you to become immune? How many more people did you have to lose before you stopped shedding tears in their names?

With a pink carnation and a pickup truck

With a shaky sigh, you dropped the pink carnation bouquet that you had picked out into a vase you and filled with water and let it rest on the counter, where you then let your head fall and rest upon.

“What’s with the flowers?” Harry piped up softly from behind you.

You raised your head to look at the beautiful plants slightly before signing again, “When Sirius first moved in with us, he didn’t know how he could ever thank my parents for what they had done for him. So he started doing little things to say thank you, meaningful things. One of them was picking a bundle of these types flowers that grew nearby the house and bringing them to my mother, getting her new ones every time the others died.”

He nodded in understanding, gazing at the pink leaves, “They’re beautiful.”

A hum of agreement left your lips, “My mother thought so too.”

But I knew I was out of luck

“With your bad luck, I’m surprised you three idiots made it this long.” You informed them with a small, playful scoff.

Hermione smiled a little bit, “Yeah, me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m grateful for it!” Ron squeaked, and frowned a bit as the three of you laughed.

“Auntie, we have to get on the express.” Harry said softly.

You nodded a little bit, pursing your lips, “I know.”

“We’ll be careful,” Hermione promised, and you smiled softly at her while cupping her cheek, rubbing your finger up and down subconsciously.

“Oh, come here.” You quickly pulled all three children into a tight group hug before kissing every one of them on the tops of their heads.

The day the music died

“What happened that night?” You whispered, watching as Harry’s eyes glazed over quickly and his defenses went up.

He shrugged stiffly, and though you felt guilty for asking, you needed to know what really went down at Hogwarts the night that Dumbledore was killed. You needed to know how much Harry would be affected by it and how negative that affect would be.

“Harry,” You begged with a soft whisper, “I just want to help you.”

“I know,” He admitted with a sigh, dropping his head against the back of the couch you both sat on in your living room.

Silence fell over you for a few minutes that consisted of you chewing on your bottom lip nervously before he finally spoke up again, “We need to prepare for a war.”

His words made your head snap over to him in alarm, “Don’t talk like that,”

“It’s true,” He insisted, turning his body to face you, “After everything that’s been happening, we both know it’s coming.”

You shook your head stubbornly, tears filling in your eyes, “Don’t you talk like that,” You warned through gritted teeth, “Your parents died so you would never have to live through a war like we did.”

He sighed, reaching over and wrapping his arms around you, “I know,” He whispered into your hair as you leaned your head against his chest, “But it’s true. And I’d rather fight and defend others than not and watch them die.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “But you're just kid.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

“…I know.”

“Please reconsider this, Harry.” You turned so you were staring up at him with wide eyes, “I know that I’m not your parent, but please, don’t go through with this. This isn’t what they would want for you.”

“Would they prefer I stand by and do nothing?” You fell silent, “They fought in the first war, and if they were still alive, they would fight in this one in a heartbeat… you know I’m right.”

You dropped your head in defeat, because you did know that he was right.

“Then I’m fighting with you,” You sat up.

He was quick to shake his head, “I don’t want you getting hurt-“

“You forget that I’m the adult here, Harry.” You reminded him sternly, “And if I can’t stop you from doing this, then you can’t stop me either.”

Slowly, he nodded, “Okay… okay… We’ll do this together.”

I started singing bye-bye, Miss American Pie

You gripped your wand tightly as your eyes scanned the forest back and forth, you quickly glanced behind you at the sound of leaves crunching.

“Under different circumstances,” You spoke as Harry sat beside you, “This place would be beautiful.”

He hummed in agreement, looking around as well.

The tent that Ron and Hermoine were in rested a few yards back, where they hopefully were sleeping off the craziness of the day.

“Your mother would kill me if she knew I wasn’t sending you to school this year,” You laughed softly at your own words.

Harry chuckled beside you, kicking at the ground a little bit when his smile faded, “I wish I didn’t have to drag you all into this.” His face was twisted up with guilt.

“Hey,” You grabbed onto his hand and shook it slightly, “This was our choice, we all knew what we were getting into. But we all love you, so it’s gonna be worth it.”

“What if one of us doesn’t make it?” He wondered out loud, voice barely above a whisper.

All at once, your body stiffened, “Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true though!” He cried, “What if Ron, Hermione, or-or y-you die because I dragged you into this?”

“And what if we hadn’t come along?” You rounded on him, “What then? Would it have been you that died?” You asked furiously, “I would die in a heartbeat to keep you safe- all of you.”

He paled at your words, looking slightly nauseated, “You can’t die.” He whispered.

“Then we’re going to drop this discussion.” You determined, “And neither of us are going to think about it again. Got it?”

He nodded numbly and you sighed, “Come ‘ere,” You muttered, wrapping your arm around him.

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

The snow fell gently across the town that you had once viewed as beautiful. That is, until your brother and sister in law moved into a certain quaint house and your entire life was flipped upside down.

You swallowed harshly, fighting with every bone in your body not to turn around and sprint in the other direction with every step forward that you took.

Hermione and Ron had gone off to a small coffee shop, muttering about giving you and Harry some space.

The boy had his arm tightly locked around yours and he seemed to be struggling just as much as you were, both of you with your feet frozen right in front of the cemetery.

“I haven’t visited this place,” You admitted with a guilty whisper, “Not once. I didn’t even show up to the funeral. I couldn’t.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked you hesitantly, eyeing you sideways.

You forced a tight smile on your face and gave him one nod of confirmation, “It’s about time I said goodbye for real.” Before adding, “Both of us.”

With that, arm in arm, you slowly made your way past the gravestones until you came upon two side by side with the names of Lily and James Potter printed across them.

You inhaled sharply at the sight of it, blinking away tears, knowing that they would freeze instantly on your face if you let them loose.

Slowly, Harry took out his wand and muttered a small spell that Hermione no doubt taught him, and a bundle of pink carnations appeared on each of their graves.

A watery laugh left your lips at his actions, causing a small smile to pull at the ends of his own lips, “They’re beautiful, Harry.”

He rested his head against the top of yours and you each silently said your own goodbyes to the ones that you lost.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye

“Look! They’re here! They’re here!” Students all around you cheered, and you couldn’t help but feel a slight spark of happiness at the looks of hope and joy on their faces.

When you and the children had returned to Hogwarts to finish what had been started, you hadn’t expected all of these students to begin cheering your names as they finally got their first sign of hope in seemingly months.

As your eyes scanned through the sea of kids, you knew that you couldn’t let them down. They had all lost so much, being forced to go through what you and your peers had back then in some ways, and you would be damned if you let them suffer any longer.

Glancing over at Harry, you knew instantly that he had the same thoughts.

Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"

“No!” You screamed so loud that it felt like your throat was ripping, but you could barely feel it over the pain in your heart, “No! No! No!”

Molly let out a sob, quickly wrapping her arms around you to stop you from running forward towards the Death Eaters at the sight of Harry’s limp body in Hagrid’s arms.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort announced with a malicious grin, thoroughly enjoying watching as your entire world came crashing down right on top of you, suffocating your lungs.

It felt as though he held your heart in his disgusting hands and was squeezing it in an agonizingly painful way.

Arthur had to make his way over and wrap an arm around you as well, your sheer strength from anger and denial making it impossibly difficult for Molly to hold you alone.

You couldn’t even hear the rest of what The Dark Lord had to say over your hopeless, despair-filled cry’s that raked through your entire body violently.

Harry was the only thing that had kept you going after all these years, after what happened. And with him being gone now, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to go on. Not without him.

Then, without warning, Harry’s body rolled out of Hagrid's hold and he jumped up, locking eyes with you briefly before picking up his wand and pointing it at Voldemort.

You gasped, a large amount of air filling into your lungs for the first time since thinking he was dead, to much in a state of shock to even register the chaos that erupted all around you as everyone sprang into action, firing spell after spell at the opposing side.

When you finally snapped out of it though, you sprang forward and fired a deadly curse towards Voldemort, years of rage and heart brokenness behind it for everyone and everything you lost at his hand.

He barely even glanced at you as he deflected it and sent a light of green straight into your chest.

This will be the day that I die

It was over. The only war was finally over. And for the first time in weeks, Harry felt himself smile as he desperately looked around for you. Despite all the two of you had gone through, at least you would be able to enjoy the new world- one rid of Voldemort- together. A world that was finally safe.

His eyebrows furrowed and he paused in his steps when he caught sight of Hermione, Ron, Molly, and Arthur all standing in a circle in the middle of a hallway, every one of them crying.

He moved forward to see what was the matter, “What is it? What’s wrong-“

Harry cut himself short and he felt all the air get knocked out of his lungs, sending him falling to his knees, “A-auntie?” He stuttered out, mouth running dry as he looked down at your limp form on the ground.

Your lips were parted slightly and your eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly at a nearby pile of rubble.

Everyone’s heads snapped over to him and Molly fell down beside him, wrapping her arms around the boy, “Oh, Harry-“

He immediately shrugged off her hands, instead frowning slightly and beginning to shake your shoulders, “Auntie? Aunt Y/n, wake up.”

All anyone could do was just stand there and watch silently with tears streaming down their faces.

“No,” He choked out when you didn’t stir, “No, wake up. Please, please wake up,” He begged through sobs, “We’re free, we’re finally free. Wake up!”

Nobody left his side, not for a single second of the hour he sat there, screaming- pleading- begging- you to wake up until his throat was raw and scratchy and he fell backwards on his heels.

“All she ever wanted was what was best for me.” The boy whispered, “That's all she ever wanted.”

“Then let’s give her that,” Molly spoke softly, hugging him again, “Honor her by living your life to the fullest. She wanted your happiness more than anything in this world.”

Harry looked down at you once more, the woman that had taken him in on her own free will in order to honor her brother and lost friends. The woman who raised him and taught him everything he knew. The woman who gave him everything. The woman who sacrificed herself so that he could keep living his life.

It’s LeviOsa 🪄- @i-writes-things @kiyomi-uchiha777

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