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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years

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Talk to me, please! [Oliver Wood x Reader] - Requested

Title: Talk to me, please! Pairing: Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Female!Reader Word count: 4.2k Published: 8 October, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Swearing Notes: I got this request from @leeayda04 and I just loved writing it <3 Now I didn’t know if I was supposed to write male or female, therefore I went with female, but do let me know if you want me to change it. Summary: After your fight with Oliver, you decide to make him suffer a little. Unfortunately things slowly get out of hand and you don’t know how to turn things around, before you lose him. Request: [x]

“Hey! I was wondering if you can make a one shot where oliver is dating reader the popular charming slytherin and he kept forgetting about thier date that make reader furious and end up having a big fight where reader gave him silent treatment” - @leeayda04

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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Oliver was a sweetheart. The sweetest boyfriend you have ever had. He always made sure to shower you with his love, he held onto your hand as if he never wanted to let go, he hid face in the crook of your neck just to feel a tad bit closer. If you didn’t stop him, he would have screamed to the whole Great Hall how much he loved you.

You were quite popular, and Oliver prided himself in calling you his, only his. You have had quite a few people around you who wished the two of you would break up already, wanting a chance with you finally, but you two were way too in love to care.

There were some Gryffindors who whispered behind your back, and grimaced at the sight of you together, but he ignored the disgusted looks he got for being in a relationship with you, a Slytherin, because he adored you more than he thought he could show.

Whilst he was indeed the best boyfriend in your eyes before, things have changed recently. To the worst.

You were sitting in Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, your eyes wandering towards the door every couple of seconds. Your eyes shot up as you heard the bell above the door each time it opened, but he was never the one to step into the shop.

You looked at your muggle watch, which you got from Oliver for your 17th birthday. You furrowed your brows as you realised he has been late for over an hour already. You heaved a deep sigh, storm of thoughts swirling around in your head. You placed the leftover of your cup of tea on the top of the saucer, before standing up, placing your jacket over your shoulders and leaving the café behind.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to tell him what an ignorant boyfriend he has become, but you just couldn’t form the words you wanted to say. Until now. The tightening feeling in your chest, the little ball in your throat made your jaw clench. You shouldn’t have felt as if you have gotten used to this feeling. You were angered by Oliver’s behaviour. He has always been the kindest, sweetest boyfriend you ever had, but recently the boy had been everywhere but beside you.

It was not the first time he didn’t appear on your date, nor the second or third. You have warned him on numerous occasions, but the boy seemed to prioritise everything, but you. His excuses were always the same. He got busy, he had an extra quidditch practice, he had to study. It was getting tiring and you couldn’t swallow it anymore, it was too much.

You strutted towards the Gryffindor common room, your steps loud and hurried against the concrete ground. You expected the stairs to go on about their way and make it harder for you to get to the boy, they were moody after all, but everything seemed way too smooth as if you were supposed to let your anger out on the boy.

You barely reached the Gryffindor common room, a student just leaving, the door still opened behind him. You quickly stood in front of it, sliding through the hole, immediately facing your boyfriend’s laughing form on the couch.

Oliver was seated on a sofa in front of the fireplace, the Weasley twins seated on his right side, whilst each Percy and Lee occupied an armchair for themselves.

“Khm.” You cleared your throat to get Oliver’s attention, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Fred looked at you first, followed by his brother George. You found it easy to make a difference between them, you have been around them for far too long.

It wasn’t a good relationship at the beginning, but slowly they started to warm up to you, even if they still enjoyed teasing you here and there. However, looking at the deathly glare you projected at them, they knew better than to try anything.

Fred nudged Oliver’s shoulder who was in a conversation with Percy. You didn’t really concentrate on what they were talking about, you only caught a couple of words about lessons and exams. Oliver looked at Fred with a raised brow, before he followed his eyes, finding you staring at him with a stern look, raised brows and folded arms in front of your chest.

“Love, what are you doing here?” He asked nonchalantly, making you frown at the clueless boy.

“I think that should be my question.” You hissed in anger. “You shouldn’t be here, instead you should have been with me in Hogsmeade.”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake, I forgot, love. I’m so sorry. I will grab my coat and we can go.” He shot up from his seat heading towards the male dormitory, but your voice stopped him.

“Oh, no you don’t. I was waiting for you over an hour, Oliver.” You groaned and he flinched as he heard his name. You didn’t use it often, nor did he use yours. You preferred calling each other in all kinds of endearing pet names. “This is not even the first time.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He spoke as he turned around and started walking towards you.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Wood.” You hissed, your jaw clenching in anger. He flinched once again, realising that the conversation was going to get heated very quickly.

“Maybe we should go somewhere private, love.” He tried to convince you, but you didn’t listen. If anything, you got even more worked up.

“Don’t call me, love and don’t try to tell me what to do!” You groaned as you stepped back from him. “Are you scared that people will realise what a shitty boyfriend you can be? Because that’s what you have been recently. At first, I understood, you are the captain of the quidditch team after all, sure you have some obligations, but it has started becoming a thing where you completely forget about me.” You didn’t even realise when you raised your voice, but at this point you didn’t even mind. You were way too upset with the boy.

“I didn’t mean to, I promise. I’m so sorry.” His guilty expression and apologetic look made you want to step closer and pull him in for a hug, but you stopped yourself. He has promised you so many times already that he would pay more attention, but recently his words meant nothing to you.

“How many times are you going to apologise? I can’t even take your words seriously anymore.”

“What?” He grimaced at your words. “What else do you want me to say? I fucked up, I apologised.” It was his turn to raise his voice this time, his Scottish accent thickening as his anger rose.

“But you keep fucking up non-stop, Wood. It’s not once or twice! You have left me; you have forgotten about me on numerous occasions. How long do I have to keep accepting your apologies when you keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again? I’m tired, Oliver.” You groaned, your tone irritated, still slightly breaking after each word.

“I don’t understand you. I told you, I’m under constant stress. We need to win the Quidditch cup, we have to focus on all the extra practices, I have to get ready for the exams, I literally am non-stop studying. I can’t always hang around you when you ask.” You have heard all his excuses before, they weren’t anything new, but the idea of you asking him to hang around you, got you worked up.

“I’m in my 7th year too. I have as much responsibilities as you do and if anything, it’s not even me who initiates to meet up, but you, so then you can completely forget about it. What do you think how it feels when your boyfriend keeps promising sweet little dates, but attends to none?” You shook your head as you exhaled deeply. “If you continue like this, you will be single before you even realise it.” You huffed.

“What?” His eyes shot up, capturing your stern gaze. His jaw hang law in surprise, his eyes wider than ever. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You will have to figure that out, Oliver.” You shook your head as you turned around and left the stunned boy behind. You expected him to come after you, to try to stop you, to try to talk to you, but he didn’t even move. He stood in the Gryffindor common room with the same shocked expression across his face as he watched the portrait hole, whilst you headed towards the dungeon, knowing you would cry the night away.

You barely arrived at your dormitory, you threw the door open and flopped down on your bed. You wanted to scream, you wanted to be angry, but instead teardrops after teardrops ran down your cheeks, heart-wrenching sobs left your lungs.

The thought of losing Oliver hurt like hell. You loved the boy more than you thought you would ever love someone, but you couldn’t put yourself through so much pain all the time. His ignorance hurt you and you just couldn’t do this to yourself anymore.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to break up with him or if you just needed some break from him to try and figure things out on your own, but you were certain that you needed to concentrate on yourself now. Only on you.

As the morning came, you woke up with bloodshot eyes, each accompanied by small puffy bags under them. Your headache was pounding hard against your skull, making you groan. You got yourself out of bed, dragging yourself over to the bathroom, almost stumbling back as you recognised your reflection in the mirror.

“Really? This is how I look because of some stupid boy? I’m pathetic.” You scoffed at the sight of you, scolding yourself. You were always a strong person, always there to support others. The sight of your pale skin, pain-filled expression and swollen cheeks gave you an encouraging kick in your backside. You were having none of this. You were stronger than to let yourself go over someone who didn’t seem to care about you.

You finished your morning routine, dressed into your uniform and walked back to your room. You halted as you felt all 3 pairs of eyes studying you with a worried look. Pansy walked up to you first, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“We heard you last night.” She said with a sympathetic look. The girl wasn’t an angel per se, but you could always rely on her. She wasn’t a social person, but those who were close to her could enjoy all the benefits her friendship included, which meant she was to kill for those she cared about, almost literally.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Pansy, but I’m fine. Things just got a bit harder recently, but I’m good.” You explained with a reassuring smile. She knew the story back and forth, but she also knew you. You didn’t have to say much, she understood that you were dealing with it on your own. She nodded in response, before she took her wand out and pointed it in your face. “Hey.” You stepped back abruptly, but she chuckled at your behaviour.

“Calm down, I don’t think you want to go out like that.” She grinned at your unappealing look. You rolled your eyes and let her perform some easy spells. As she finished, you turned around to look into the mirror beside the door and you couldn’t stop a little smile from crawling up on your lips. “Not bad, huh?” Pansy winked with a proud smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky, I’m naturally good looking.” You scoffed, before your smile turned into a playful grin.

“Right, Ms. Confidence. Let’s get some food into your system.” She shook her head as she started pushing you out the door, your other two roommates following behind.

You walked up to the Great Hall, Pansy talking about Draco Malfoy for the umpteenth time. The girl was smitten, and Draco knew about it, but he seemed to be rather ignorant towards her. You never dared to voice it to Pansy, deep down she knew, but it felt good for her to crush over someone.

As you reached the Great Hall, you immediately headed towards the Slytherin table, taking a seat beside Pansy, who decided to sit next to Draco. You chuckled at the two. Draco rolled his eyes, very obviously wishing for the girl’s disappearance, whilst Pansy just chuckled happily enjoying the boy’s mere presence. They were definitely a comical pair, but it was somewhat helpful, it lightened your mood.

You took a piece of scone from the middle of the table, buttering its top, before you shoved it in your mouth. You enjoyed the sweet taste spreading around your tongue, when you felt a presence beside you. You turned to the side where Oliver decided to take a seat, his eyes eagerly watching you. Your heart sped up, as you saw the hurtful expression he was wearing. You wanted to pull him closer, hid his face in the crook of your neck, just the way he loved it, but you didn’t move. Your logic won over your heart.

“Can we talk?” His tone was weak, almost pleading, but as guilty as you felt, you knew you shouldn’t have. It was all his fault to begin with. You scoffed and turned back to your breakfast, taking another scone and repeating the process. “Love, please.” He reached for your hand, but you just pulled it away. You didn’t look at the boy though, your new game was to pretend that he never even existed. “I’m begging you, please talk to me.” He tried again, his voice breaking your stern wall protecting you, but before you could have given in, Pansy interrupted you.

“Can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk to you? She doesn’t even want to see you, Wood. Now, off you go, your playmates are missing you.” She snarled, clear disgust showing in her voice. She never liked the boy after all, but she did ignore his existence for your sake.

“Y/N-” he started, but Pansy let out an animalistic growl. You had to swallow a laugh that was about erupt from your lungs. You didn’t look at the boy, simply waited for him to leave you be, just like he did so many times before.

He studied your face, waiting hopefully even for just a stolen glance from you, but you never looked at the boy. You didn’t want to, and it irritated you that it took him so long to understand. Finally, he stood up and left your table, heading back to his own.

“Thanks, Pansy.” You smiled sweetly as she nodded in reply and turned back to Draco.

Days passed by since you have last talked to Oliver. The boy was restless, apologising to you in every corner, declaring his love for you on every occasion. You felt weak against him. You have never kept such a distance between you and whilst you were strong on the outside, you wished nothing but to throw yourself into his arms, enjoying the warmth of his body against you.

Oliver was also at a breaking point. He scolded himself for his ignorance in each and every waking moment. He didn’t know what to do, he felt useless, nothing he has tried worked. You built up a wall between you and he had no idea how to take it down. He knew what an idiot he has been, and he kept beating himself up for it, but he was running out of ideas on how to get you back.

He couldn’t have known that you were slowly giving in and you couldn’t have known that he was slowly giving up.

Oliver was sitting in Potions, listening to Professor Snape, his complete attention on the teachers. You tried to steal secret glances from the boy, but he didn’t return them. This was the first time he didn’t try to look at you, he didn’t send you apologetic notes, he didn’t ask one of his friends to convince you to talk to him. Were you losing him? Your chest painfully tightened at the thought. You didn’t want to give in to the negativity, it wasn’t lost yet. That wasn’t possible, you wanted to believe.

A piece of scrunched up parchment flew over to your table, your heart jumping in anticipation. You looked at Oliver once again, but he firmly concentrated on his notes, instead of searching for your reaction. You looked down on your table, opening the piece of paper.

I’m guessing Oliver and you are finally over. Go on a date with me, love. I’m sure you would enjoy my company.

Be at the Slytherin common room entrance on Saturday by 11am. I don’t accept a no; we both know it’s been coming.

Marcus

You frowned at the note, a grimace spread across your face. You turned around to look at Marcus Flint, captain of the quidditch team of your house, arch enemy of Oliver. You shook your head in a reply, a silent scoff leaving your lips. As you turned back around, you caught Oliver’s eyes, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze locked. However as quickly as it came, Oliver turned away, not wanting to see you. He was just as hurt as you were.

The week slowly passed by, but Oliver haven’t tried to get close to you again. If anything, it was his turn to ignore you and you didn’t know what to do about it. You wanted to walk up to him and apologise for ignoring him, but your pride was winning over your heart every time.

You sat at your table in the Great Hall, hunched above your lunch, your face hidden behind your palms. You kept heaving deep sighs, Pansy groaning at your annoying behaviour. You tried to ignore the younger girl; she didn’t have enough experience to know how it felt being eaten up by your own stupid thoughts.

You huffed as you pushed your face further into your hands, wanting to disappear. You didn’t expect a hand to grab your arm and pull you up from your place.

“Was I not clear enough?” You stumbled as Marcus pulled on you, his hands painfully wrapped around your arm, surely leaving red marks on the surface of your skin. “It’s past 12pm already. Did you try to stand me up? I think I have clearly told you that I don’t accept a no.” He growled as he started pulling you after him, dragging you out of the Great Hall, numerous pair of eyes on you.

You tried to pull your arm out of his firm grip, but the boy was stronger than you. “I did tell you I didn’t want to go with you.” You groaned as you pulled on your arm again, but your attempt was once again unsuccessful.

“If you haven’t noticed, I wasn’t asking you. We are going on a date.” He hissed in anger as he dragged you after him. You struggled against his hold, before a second hand joined in, holding on to the same arm Marcus lead you by. You looked up to see Oliver, who pulled your arm back, forcing Marcus to let you go.

All of you halted as you massaged your arm, a bright red handprint decorating the surface of your skin. Oliver’s jaw clenched, his gaze full of anger as he watched Marcus with a disgusted grimace.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked your housemate, his low and firm tone even scaring you for a second.

“I’m taking her on a date.” He hissed, clearly upset about Oliver’s arrival.

“I don’t think so.” He stepped in front of you. You wanted to stand up for yourself, you didn’t want to feel like a damsel in distress, but you were dancing on a thin line and you didn’t dare to risk the last hope he was giving you by helping you out.

“I don’t think you have a say in it, Wood.” He scoffed, clearly annoyed by Oliver’s behaviour.

“She doesn’t seem to want to go with you.” He looked back at you for confirmation and so you shook your head. “I strongly suggest you disappear now, Flint.” He growled, his tone almost animalistic, his voice threatening.

“Why, what are you going to do, huh?” Marcus taunted the boy. You couldn’t see the face Oliver was making, let alone if he has whispered something, but Marcus took a step back, his jaw tightening in anger. “Enjoy yourselves, then.” He spit in anger, before he turned on his heels and left the two of you behind. You frowned at the unexpected events; a confused look spread across your face as you looked up at Oliver.

“You okay?” He asked as he finally looked at you, or your arm at least, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied as you hid your arm behind your back. “Thank you. For helping me.” You offered him a small smile, but he didn’t return it.

He simply nodded. “It’s okay.” He heaved a deep sigh, not knowing what to do, just like you, standing in front of him, not finding the right words. “Well, see you.” He spoke up again, tears pricking your eyes as you realised the most you could muster was an awkward conversation. It slowly started downing on you that your relationship was indeed over with Oliver and when he walked past you, heading back to the Great Hall, it felt like he was walking away for the last time.

You didn’t have the power to turn around, you just watched the floor in front of you, trying to understand when it has all gone bad. You removed an escaped tear from your cheek and sniffled as you tried to get yourself together.

“Y/N?” You heard his voice from further away. You quickly cleared your cheeks and turned around with a fake smile plastered across your face. He heaved a deep sigh, making you wait in anticipation, before he continued. “I know I have done some pretty shitty things, but I never meant to hurt you intentionally, you know that right?” He asked, his gaze filled with guilt.

“I know, you didn’t.” You were struggling against the tears that wanted to escape, but you firmly held them back.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me, nor do you really want to talk to me, but-“ he gulped loudly, trying to find the right words, fearing of pushing you away even further. “when you walked out of the common room, I didn’t believe you were really giving up on us. I really thought we could solve it just like always.” You wanted to scream at him, you wanted to tell him off for thinking you have given up on him. “I’m really sorry for disappointing you.” He gave you a saddened smile.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” You blurted out, but you didn’t regret it. “I just thought you would deserve to feel how hard it is to be ignored. I never thought it would actually get this far.” His eyes widened in surprise, but you couldn’t see it, your gaze was fixed on your shoes, drawing random patterns on the ground.

“You didn’t want to break up with me?” He asked, his tone full of hope. Your eyes shot up as you quickly shook your head. “Do you think, maybe we could try again? I know my words don’t weigh much, but I don’t want to give up on us, I really want to show you how much I care about you, how much I love you.” He stepped closer, stopping right in front of you.

“I want to, but I’m scared. You really did hurt me.” You sighed deeply.

“I know, I did.” He whispered, reaching for your hands as he took them into his, caressing the back of your hands with his thumbs. “I promise to pay attention to you more, just like I did before. Being apart made me realise that I want nothing more than being with you.” He confessed, his voice defeated, but still hopeful. “Please, love.” His pleading chocolate brown eyes, his guilt-filled, apologetic tone was all you needed.

“I can’t say no to you, can I?” You chuckled sweetly, a sound he has been craving to hear once again. His arms sneaked around your waist, yours wrapped around his neck, engulfing each other in the warmest hug you could possibly share. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, finding his favourite spot, your presence making him relaxed once again.

“Thank you so much.” He murmured against your neck, his breath tickling your skin, making you chuckle.

“I love you, Oliver. But you better not break my heart again.” You scolded him as he pulled back, his eyes meeting yours.

“Not even in my nightmares.” He shook his head, leaning closer and hinting a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’d rather you broke my heart.” He whispered as he leaned down to your lips, kissing you feverishly, hoping to recover the amount of intimate moments you could have spent together, loving each other just like you did before.

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bbyx · 4 years

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ripple effect - part six

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

It was Friday morning, the first week had gone relatively fast. (y/n) was still angry with Draco so she decided to sit at the Gryffindor table. She was popular enough that she didn't get to many glares as she sat down with her friends with her green robes. You yawn, having spent all night studying.

"I have a quiz in muggle studies today"

"Who do you have class with?" Ron asks

"Ravenclaw" You sigh and bury your head in your hands " I'm bound to have the worst mark in the class."

"At least we have Care of Magical Creatures together." Hermione says playing with a strand of your hair.

You stare at your class notes trying to drill them into your brain.

"Guys, who killed Lincoln again"

"I didn't do it!" Fred screeches.

"I have an alibi! I swear!" George adds wearing an identical grin as his twin.

"John Wilkes Booth"

"Thank you Hermione" You answer glaring at the twins.

"You're eating again, I notice" Ron says to Hermione who's buttering a toast.

"I've decided there are better ways to make a stand about elf rights."

"Yeah....and you were hungry."

You, Daphne and Millicent walk down to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical creatures.

"Ew what is that?" Millicent says pointing to the cage with strange lobster scorpion hybrids.

"Blast Ended Skrewts!" bellows Hagrid excitedly.

"Oh wow they're... interesting."

"Eurgh" squeals Lavender Brown.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we want to raise them?" says Draco turning his nose up.

(y/n) picks up some frog liver, trying not to gag and drops it inside the box of skrewts. A flash erupts from the rear end of one of the creatures and she feels a sharp pain in her right hand.

"Ow! Shit! It burned me."

You look at your shaking fingers, whimpering. Your index and part of your middle finger were bright red and blisters were starting to form all over. You bite back tears as a pale pair of hands grab yours.

"(y/n)! Are you alright?" Draco says with a frown as he looks down at your fingers "Bloody hell that looks bad. Come I'll take you to the infirmary."

Hagrid steps forward and tries to inspect your injury but Draco starts pulling you away.

"My father will hear about this." He spits out venomously.

Draco leads you inside the castle.

"Not gonna faint on me this time?"

You smile through the pain. "That was ONE time!" You say thinking back to when you and Draco were little and you fainted on him after scraping your knees.

"Not another one!" Madam Pomfrey exclaims as you walk inside the infirmary already full of students who were burned or stung by the skrewts. She grabs your hand "This is pretty bad" she mutters quietly " You must have been close to the blast."

"Okay that's it (y/n). I'm taking you to St.Mungos right away." Draco says, looking paler than usual.

You roll your eyes at him. He's always been an overreactor

"Nonsense! Absolute nonsense! I'll have it fixed in a jiffy." huffs Madam Pomfrey, pulling out a turquoise paste from her apron. As soon as the minty paste touches your skin it instantly numbs the pain and makes your hand feel very cold.

"Apply this every morning for a week and you'll be just fine." She says, handing you the paste in your healthy hand.

You string together a few thank yous and slip out of the infirmary. You're walking next to Draco when he grabs your forearm and forces you to face him.

"(y/n) i'm sorry."

You let out a silent sigh of relief because some part of you feared that he would never apologize and your friendship would never be the same.

"For what?" (y/n) wanted to drag out his apology, she wanted to savour this moment, to embed it in her memory forever because Draco Malfoy never apologizes. She's known Draco since before he could talk and she swears he's only apologized to her twice.

"For being a dick." He says grudgingly.

"Annnnd?"

"And being rude to your friends." He chokes the words out like saying them was physically hurting him. He looks so uncomfortable that it's nearly impossible not to keep going.

"Becauseee?"

He signs and turns slightly pink "Because I was jealous."

"That wasn't that hard now was it Drakey?" You had about a thousand nicknames for Draco like Drakey, Dracula, Dee, Little Lucius, Casper the Ghost ect.

"Never doing that again." He scoffs.

"So you forgive me?" You nod. "Really? huh.Thought you would give me a harder time."

You laugh. You've missed this, how easy everything was with him.

"Yes well I need my study partner back before the Muggle Studies quiz."

"Study partner? Please! I'm practically your tutor."

"Whatever shut up Dee."

(y/n) was the last one to leave the Muggle Studies classroom after taking forever to finish her quiz. It wasn't that she wasn't smart but she had had a lot on her mind the past two years and it was taking a toll on her grades. And Muggles were so bloody complicated. She walks into the courtyard just in time to see Professor Moody turn Draco into a small white ferret.

There was a terrified silence and (y/n) ran forward and kneeled on the floor to pick up the ferret.

"Draco?"

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave — what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you — her!" Moody growled.

Before you could turn around the ferret leaped out of your hands towards the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody. He proceeded to levitate the ferret and slam it back and forth into the ground. You wince every time the ferret hits the floor but find yourself unable to move. Finally Professor McGonagall steps in and turns the ferret back into Draco. You practically jump on him, hugging him tightly while McGonagall scolds Moody.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine" He huffs staring daggers at Harry but when he sees your worried expression his eyes soften and he offers you a slight smile. "Really, i'm all good"

His eyes are still glossed over when he mumbles in your ear "Just wait until I tell father about this"

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, "Well, I know your father, boy. . . . You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . " He looks at you dead in the eyes, sending a violent shiver down your back. "That goes for you as well. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?" He takes Draco's arm and roughly shoves him towards the castle. You stay fixed in your spot pondering Moody's words.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry, Hermione and (y/n)

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . ."

"Shut up Ron"

"C'mon I know you secretly loved watching Draco get his ass handed to him on a platter." He nudges you with his elbow.

A small smile hints at your lips. "Maybe a little"

It was Saturday morning, and you were sitting at the Slytherin table. Everyone was avoiding the topic of Professor Moody because Malfoy was still fuming about yesterday's incident.

"What's that?" says Theo pointing at your SPEW badge.

"Hermione's starting a society for the promotion of elfish welfare." The whole group burst into hysterics but you silence them with a lethal glare. Pansy practically skips over and squeezes herself between you and Blaise.

"Oooh Dracooo? Will you come to Hogsmeade with me today? I really need to buy something, pleaseee?"

"What are you buying?" He answers cooly.

"Guess! It's something I really need." She says with what you think is supposed to be puppy dog eyes but it just throws her facial proportions even more off.

"A personality?" You spit out venously. As if on cue Daphne adds " Some friends maybe?"

Pansy scoffs and turns back to Draco. "I need an owl."

Blaise jumps in, saving Draco "Draco didn't you say we would go buy new quidditch robes today."

"Oh right. Sorry Pansy"

(y/n) starts thinking about her owl, Juniper. Juniper is a streaked brown and white barn owl. Juniper didn't live in the Hogwarts Owlery. Instead she lived at the Deauxville Manor and it was specially trained to take your fathers letters before he could see them. Then Juniper would bring them to you and you would respond to your father's business letters for him. Reading your father's mail had felt uncomfortable at first but you had to remember that you were just trying to save his life’s work.

You watch Daphnee and Millicent blush and Draco clench his jaw. "Ready to go?"

You turn to see Cedric looking a little uncomfortable under the glares that most of the Slytherin boys were giving him. You give him your most reassuring smile.

"Yeah, let's go before my brother kills you."

He holds out his hand to help you up take it, feeling an electric rush pass through your arm as you do. Walking out, it seems that every single person in the Great Hall has their eyes fixed on the couple. Cedric doesn't seem to notice and throws you a chocolate frog. You catch it with ease.

"How do you have so many of these?"

"Easy. I have a box of them with (y/n) written in big red letters on it." He says with a grin as you plop the frog in your mouth.

"So what do you want to do?" Cedric asks while the two of you walk.

"I'm not sure. Let's go have butterbeers."

You're waiting at a booth in the Three Broomsticks while Cedric goes to buy two butterbeers. He hands you a mug full of rich brown liquid.

"Thank you."

"No problem at all" He pulls out a red liquorice wand and snaps it in half. He slides you a piece.

"Cedriccc. First of all where are you getting all these sweets from, second of all licorice is eurgh."

He shakes his head. " No, no, no. See this?" He says holding out the candy. "This is RED licorice. It's big in the United States, tastes completely different. I want you to try it."

"No please don't make me. I'll throw up on you I swear" You plead.

"Yess"

"Noo"

Yes"

"No"

"Yes"

"Fine!" You finally give in when he flashes you his breathtaking lopsided grin. "You are so stubborn!" You slowly drop the red candy in your mouth. You expect the nauseating taste of molasses to take over but surprisingly all you taste is strawberries.

"Cedric! This is kind of good." You say while chewing. He laughs and your hands brush slightly together as he gives you another piece which makes your cheeks go red.

"So who do you think is gonna be the impartial judge who decides the champions?" You ask quickly hoping to distract him from your embarrassing blushing.

"Eh, maybe the sorting hat?"

"I hope the hat doesn't pick Nick then because he wouldn't last five seconds."

"Come on, give him some credit, he's pretty talented in transfiguration."

"Wouldn't know, we barely talk anymore." Your voice takes a bitter tone.

"Is that why you didn't come to St.Tropez this summer."

"Yeah and I had to take care of family stuff." You say not wanting to look at his face because it would make lying so much harder.

He grabs your hand on the table. "(y/n) I know your dad is sick."

"NICK TOLD YOU?? I'M GONNA KILL HIM HE REALLY IS A USELESS PIECE OF SHIT" You jump up raising your voice, everyone in the bar looking at you. Cedric's face stays calm and compassionate.

"Please calm down, let me explain." He grabs your hand and forces you to sit. "During the summer I found Nick crying by the pool one night. He didn't say much, just that your father was sick and there was no cure. He was really upset and kept mumbling stuff about being a shit brother and such. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I just wanted you to know that i'm here for you."

Cedric slides closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. You rest your head on him.

"Alzeihmer's" you whisper.

"Pardon?"

"He has Alzeihmer's. He can't even remember my name most days." He wraps his other arm around you, engulfing you in a hug.

"God (y/n). I'm so sorry."

" It's okay, I've become a little bit numb to it all." You breathe in his scent. "Cedric you can't tell anybody okay? Promise me."

"I promise" He whispers and squeezes you tighter.

You stayed like that for a while, it was nice, for once your thoughts seemed to come to a stop as you focused on Cedric's heartbeat.

(y/n) and Cedric walk back to the castle. She has a bag full of candies from Honeydukes and bag with a pair of earrings for Millicent's birthday. He's holding your hand which makes your little heart do backflips in your chest.

"So what happened to your right hand?"

" A blast ended skrewt's ass exploded on me.'

He picks up your other hand and gives it a small kiss. "There. All better."

You try to contain the furious blush dotting your cheeks as you laugh. "You're so cheesy Ced."

"No but seriously I think there's a plant in the Hufflepuff common room that can help with the blisters."

"Whoa watch out for Cedric Diggory, future Mediwizard."

He smirks. "Dr.Diggory does sound pretty nice."

"Well Dr.Diggory how does it feel to have the second nicest common room."

"You're kidding right? Hufflepuff has THE nicest common room. It's next to the kitchens, it has plants, it always smells like cinnamon..." He keeps listing reasons why his common room is the nicest all the way to the castle.

"Unfortunately Cedric" You say standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. "This still remains the best common room."

Cedric is about to answer but you stop him in his tracks by standing on your tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek.

"Bye Dr.Diggory" You whisper in his ear before slipping inside.

The whole school was buzzing because today was the day that the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were arriving. All the Hogwarts students were waiting outside for their grand entrance. Dumbledore smiles and calmly says.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid . . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

When the thing gets closer, you realise that it's an ornate powder blue carriage pulled by a giant winged horse. It comes to a stop and a boy in pale blue robes comes out and pulls out small golden steps. A comically huge woman walks out and greets Dumbledore in a thick accent. (y/n) spots Cedric in the crowd and he waves enthusiastically.

The Black lake starts to bubble and the water separates, a thick brown pole sticks out. A big wooden boat starts emerging from the hole. Durmstrang students start filing out of the boat. They were all muscular and bulky. You take a moment to look at the contrast between the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Ron gasps and jumps up.

"Harry — it's Krum!"

But you don't hear him because in the crowd you've spotted a familiar face in pale blue robes eyeing you. A beautifully creamy face wearing a very hateful expression.

Your cousin Fleur has arrived at Hogwarts.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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brittle-bone-gabe · 5 years

Text

And We’ll Float Away: Chapter Two- Derry Town House

Chapter One, Chapter Three,

Summary: The Losers manage to get Eddie out of the cave, even with a hole in his stomach from Pennywise. From there on, when Eddie saw his life flash before his eyes, he realizes that this wasn’t the life he wanted to live. No, he wanted a better one, with a better person. Pairings: Reddie (Eddie x Richie), Benverly (Ben x Beverly) Read on Ao3: Here

The Losers were silent after pulling themselves out of the Quarry, Eddie was more than happy to finally get out of that nasty water, ready to take a real shower. Ben and Beverly had been holding hands the entire trip back, as if they have been dating this entire time after all these years; like they haven’t ever drifted apart. Eddie was still wearing Richie’s shirt, it was clinging tightly to his body from the quick swim everyone had. Yeah, it was uncomfortable with how it was clinging, but there was no way Eddie was taking if off just yet, it was like a… security blanket wrapped around him, he didn’t want to let go of it until he was safe in his own room at the town house. Lowkey, but would never admit it, Eddie could see why Richie wore these stupid fucking Hawaiian shirts, it was comfortable and loose. Maybe he’d pick himself up some.

Eddie could feel someone staring at him as he pushed his damp hair off from his forehead, when he looked over he just saw Richie in the process of looking away from him. Fucking dick is making fun of me… he thought. That was the last thing Richie was doing, in fact, Richie was having trouble not staring at Eddie.

God… Eddie Kaspbrak is wearing one of my shirts, Richie couldn’t help but think when giving him a sideways glance, he was now picking at the bandage on his left cheek. Richie just wanted to reach over and grab his stupid hand, to tell him not to pick at it, but he knew that Eddie knew that better than anyone to not pick at wounds or bandages. His eyes drifted back to his shirt that was still clinging onto Eddie. And goddamn did he look hot wearing it, he thought to himself again, turning away just in case Eddie were to see his now reddening face.

Mike looked up from the sidewalk they were walking on, seeing the library coming up quickly.

“Alright, guys,” he started, stopping in his tracks, the rest of the Losers stopping to look at him, “I’m gonna grab my stuff. We’ll meet at the bar afterwards?”

“Your st-st-stuff?” Bill wondered aloud, “whe-where are you gonna g-g-go?”

Mike thought about it for a moment, not exactly sure how to answer that.

“Another library? Solve another non-existent towns mystery?” Richie suggested playfully with a one arm shrug as his hands were shoved in his jeans pockets. “Oh! We can be like Scooby and the Gang!” He looked at the other Losers who had smiles on their faces, even Eddie which boosted Richie’s ego quite a bit. “We can travel around solving mysteries. More clowns dead, better for us. Whatdaya say?”

There were a collection of Beep-Beep Richie coming from the Losers which caused the taller man to roll his eyes. They clearly didn’t see a good joke when it was in front of them. He looked at Eddie again, who just lightly shook his head, trying to hide the smile on his face now.

“Bev would be Fred, of course,” he started again, “always taking charge. Mike; you’re Velma, so smart.”

“Wait, what if I want to be Fred,” Ben asked Richie who shrugged again.

“I see you more as Daphne, y’know, damsel in distress kinda thing.” Ben reached over, punching Richie rather hard in the arm. “Oh, ow,” he said sarcastically, rubbing the stinging area. “Ed’s is Scrappy; sooooo annoying!”

“Fuck you, dick.”

“In time, Ed’s,” he said with a wink.

“I…” Mike was cut off from his own chuckling at Richie’s jokes, “I’m not sure where I’ll be going yet, but…” he pulled out his phone that he, thankfully, left on shore before jumping in the Quarry, “I’ll be sure to stay in touch.”

“Ooh! Good idea!” Bev said happily, taking out her own phone, unlocking it, “we gotta make a group chat. Richie, what’s your number?” “312-227-IfuckedEddie’smom.” Everyone groaned at his response.

Eddie smacked his arm. “Shut the fuck up!”

“You’re… such a… tiny, angry man…”

“I am normal height, Richie! It’s not my fault you’re Bigfoot!”

Once everyone exchanged numbers, Mike promised to meet them all at the local bar before heading back to the library to collect what little items he had stored away there. There was something heavily satisfying about being able to pack everything away from the library after staying there for years. Honestly, Mike never envisioned himself being able to leave this place, leave it as far away as possible. Years spent here finally paid off; Pennywise was dead, there was no more reason to stick around here anymore, everyone would be safe now thanks to the Losers.

Everyone’s phone went off, indicating that they all got a text message. They couldn’t help but all check; it was a text message from the group chat that Bev called Losers Club. Everyone groaned when they saw the text that came through from Richie. He had sent everyone a clown emoji alongside a knife emoji. Yeah, he thought that was so fuckin’ funny.

“Richie…” Bill said, throwing him a glare from over his shoulder.

“I’m funny! Right, Stan?”

“How do I block someone's number?” Stan asked aloud, tapping away at his phone.

“God, maybe I should start charging you guys for my jokes like I do everyone else. Ungrateful.” His phone went off in his pocket. When he checked it it was a middle finger emoji text from Eddie. When he looked over at the smaller man he saw that he couldn’t keep his smile contained anymore, letting out a laugh. “I hate you.”

“Okay, I want to block both of them, how do I do that?” Ben asked, holding his phone out to Bev, who lightly smacked his arm.

“Aww, why can’t we be like that, Eds?” Richie lightly bumped into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hmm… maybe because you’re an unfunny slob.”

Richie stopped walking as the others kept going, he looked hurt from Eddie’s words. Well, not really, but he had to make sure Eddie thought that.

“Wow, wow, wow. Hurtful,” he said before catching back up to them, “maybe you should come with me to Chicago, Eddie Spaghetti. I’ll show you around, show you a good time. Whatdaya think?”

“Absolutely not. I have to go back to New York.”

“Right. Your wife,” Richie almost spat, rolling his eyes, “we can… bring her along,” he forced out.

“She hates your guts, Richie.”

“Ouch. Her approval is all I needed in life and now? Hm. I don’t know how to go on.”

“Wait, why does she hate Richie? I mean, we get it,” Stan asked.

Beverly had to hide her laughter, putting her hand up to her mouth as she looked over to Ben who had a smile on his face. She missed this. She missed goofing off with the Losers, god, all these years were wasted with them all forgetting about each other. Imagine them in college together? Imagine them getting wasted at odd hours in the night, talking about life and goofing around. If Bev could hit the rewind button so they wouldn’t have ever gotten each other and could spend more time together than she would’ve hit it in a second.

“She thinks you’re annoying, annnd you’re not funny,” Eddie continued.

“So she has the same views as the rest of us?” Bill wondered, “huh… maybe she should join the Losers Club.”

“When did this turn into a roasting session about me?”

“The moment you opened your mouth,” Ben finally said.

“...alright, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.”

The rest of the walk back to the town house was like watching a bunch of teenagers walking home from school. They were all loud, making jokes, and laughing loudly. The Losers Club was robbed, that was for sure. All those memories they lost of their childhood, all those late nights they had spending the night, drinking stolen cheap alcohol, smoking cigarettes trying to seem badass and adult-like, all that time they spent in their clubhouse that Ben had made. What else have they forgotten?

Once they reached the empty town house, Richie was ready for a drink. He leaned over the counter, trying to see if there was any booze left over. Unlucky. Of course. Beverly lit up a cigarette to get rid of the stress that was today. She did a mental headcount, making sure to count Mike who was busy getting his stuff together so he could leave this town behind forever. Everyone was here, all seven of them made it out of the battle alive and that’s all she could’ve hoped for, especially since her visions… those horrible visions she was sure was about to come true. She’d seen how Stan should’ve died - taking his own life in the bathtub; she’d seen how Eddie was supposed to die - from that wound in the cave, but because of Richie staying with him he managed to cheat death.

Maybe the Losers were harder to kill than the Deadlights gave them credit for.

Bev snapped out of her thoughts when Ben put a hand on her back, bringing her back into reality. Bill was now standing up on the stairs, looking at the other Losers.

“After 27 fucking years we finally killed that fucking cl-cl-clown,” he said with a huge smile on his face, “I’m so pr-proud of us.”

Everyone cheered, holding up their hands as if they had drinks to toast with. They’d make a proper toast once they were all down at the bar. He turned around to head upstairs with Bev, Ben, and Stan following behind him.

Being alone with Eddie made Richie’s heart race, he could literally feel it slamming against his chest. Now was his chance. He could tell Eddie exactly how he felt, how he felt towards him since they were kids, remembering how he felt the moment he saw him again after all these years. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what should he say?! What shouldn’t he say?

When Richie snapped out of his thoughts he saw that Eddie was making his way up the stairs. Thinking fast, Richie reached out, grabbing Eddie’s arm to stop him. He couldn’t say anything, his mouth was opened as if he was about to speak but no words came out. Fuck.

“Eddie-” He started, trying to think on his toes to get something across at least.

“I’ll give the shirt back,” Eddie said, assuming he knew what Richie was going to say, tugging a little bit on the collar, “but… I should probably wash it first. It has bacteria water and some of my blood on it, sorry. But I’ll get it back to you before we leave.”

“Oh…” Richie let go of his arm, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking of what to say still since he still had his attention, “that’s not what I-”

“Your jacket?” Eddie assumed again, “I think we left it at the Quarry. It’s covered in my blood, Rich, I don’t think you want it back,” he leaned against the stair railing, still feeling a slight aching pain in his stomach from where the stab wound had healed on its own. It wasn’t the same pain he felt when he got and after he got stabbed, but it was more of a healing ache.

Richie couldn’t help but smile at him, letting out a small chuckle as he rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses. “No, you idiot. I was going to ask if you were okay.”

The exact moment Richie finished his sentence Eddie’s head started swimming with everything he wanted to say all at once. He had quite a few opinions based on that question. Should he lie about how he was really feeling? He always thought of Richie as his best friend, so why would he lie about that? It was rare, if Eddie was remembering correctly, that Richie would make sure someone was okay. Normally he would crack really stupid jokes as his own way of asking someone if they were okay.

“Oh…” Eddie’s face felt hot as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “are you actually asking or…?”

“No, no, no, I mean it. Are you okay?”

The sincerity in his voice caught Eddie off guard; yeah, this was something he didn’t remember Richie doing at all. Hell, Richie made a joke at the restaurant sounding seriously interested in his career as a risk analyst but then pretended that he fell asleep since it was “so boring.” He was waiting for Richie to crack a joke, but the look on his face indicated that it wasn’t going to happen.

What the hell.

Eddie took a deep breath in, telling Richie that he was about to speak quickly, so he was mentally preparing himself to try to keep up.

“I’m fine besides the fact we swam around in that nasty ass Quarry,” he started quickly, putting a hand over the bandage on his left cheek, “y’know? I just know that there’s some kinda infection trying to set in as we speak. Fortunately, yet unfortunately, it takes about two or three days before an actual infection sets in, so I would have time to try to cut that down by putting antibacterial cream on it, but-”

Yeah, Richie is starting to regret asking him.

“You’ll be fine, spaghetti man,” Richie said, cutting him off as he stepped up on the same step Eddie was on. He wrapped his arm around his best friends shoulders, they slowly walked up to the top floor.

There was a strange comfort flooding over Eddie with Richie’s arm wrapped around him. As much as he wanted playfully shove him off like he used to when they were kids, but this time it felt different, like Richie actually want to comfort him. He had to stop himself from leaning into his side.

“When’s your flight back to New York?” Richie asked once they were at the top of the stairs.

“I… haven’t booked one yet…”

Well, mark Richie down as surprised. He would’ve expected that Eddie had booked it on the way back from the Quarry, knowing him. Everything had to be planned out in advance for him so he felt like he had order and control in his life.

“No? Why not?” He asked, his arm still around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie hesitated for a moment, he didn’t end up saying anything, instead he just shook his head as if he didn’t want to say anything. “What? What aren’t you telling me, Eds?”

“I just…” he tugged at the wet shirt that was clinging uncomfortably at his torso before shrugging, not even sure what to say or why he wasn’t even planning on buying a ticket yet. “I just want to stay here for a little while longer,” he admitted, “what about you? When are you heading back to Chicago?”

“I… haven’t booked anything either.”

“You’re so unprepared…”

Richie was speechless. There was so much he wanted to say to him, especially since he had his arm still around Eddie, wanting to tell him everything he was feeling and what he felt for years. Why was this so hard? Maybe because the other Losers were still here, if he said anything and they happened to overhear then they would make fun of him? Hell, he’s never come out to anyone before about his sexuality and he was terrified of the responses. Especially since he was famous, what would that do to his career? Would it be over for him just as his career was starting? That would fucking suck. Especially since this was a job he really enjoyed.

Not right now, he decided.

“I’m gonna clean up with real. Clean. Water!” Eddie announced loudly so the other Losers could hear him.

In return, he could hear a collection of fuck off’ s from those in their rooms, sick of his shit obviously. He moved from Richie’s arm, walking down to his room at the end of the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Richie stood there in stunned silence as he watched Eddie walk away from him. He had no fucking idea why he was so anxious and suddenly so speechless. God, yeah, he felt like a fucking idiot and he had no idea why. Was it trauma from the events of today? Well, no doubt there was some underlying trauma bouncing around his brain now, but he was expecting to repress it for a few years before looking back on it when he was in his 60’s. Hell, he did think his best friend in the whole world was going to die, fuck, he thought Eddie had died and he was crazy for feeling a weak pulse and everyone was right when they kept telling him he was dead. Deadlights? Could that also cause trauma? What the fuck were even the Deadlights? How would he bring that up to a therapist?

He let out a sigh, as he finally figured out what to say to Eddie, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was already too late since he long since when into his room to clean up. Great job, Trashmouth, you blew your chance, Richie thought as he slumped back into his own room, which was right across the hall from Eddie’s. He tried closing his door, but it didn’t quite click with the latch on the doorframe, so it was still slightly opened.

Richie stood in front of the mirror that was propped up on the wall over the dresser. He couldn’t help but stare at himself, all he could see was Eddie’s nonexistent blood still all over his face. It caused his breathing to hitch from panic, he was scared to close his eyes to sleep now, he knew all he was going to see was Eddie getting stabbed by Pennywise, watching him thrown around like a ragdoll all over again. Why did this have to fucking happen? Why couldn’t Mike have just called them for a get together, a normal get together after all these years to catch up? Just throw Pennywise out of the entire equation and it would’ve been a great time with friends.

He took off his glasses finally, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked at them, seeing Eddie’s blood stuck through the cracks that refused to wash away with the rest of the blood and dirt. There was no way these were getting fixed anytime soon, not until he got back home to Chicago. Thankfully he had an extra pair in his dufflebag that he always carried around just in case, since he was as blind as a bat without them and he refused to use contacts, as he was too squeamish to put them in himself.

Kneeling down next to the black dufflebag on the floor, Richie started going through it, tossing out the extra clothes he brought trying to find the glasses case. Where were they? He knew he packed them. He grumbled to himself, as he could barely see even with the glasses on since they had a crack that made them useless.

Thank fuck, Richie thought as he found the black glasses case.

He stood up again, his knee popping as he did. He tossed his old pair onto his bed before opening up the case, putting on the backup pair. Finally. He could see clearly again.

Standing at the end of his bed with his back to the door, Richie didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts for too long, he needed someone to talk to. Fuck, he didn’t have anyone to talk to about anything that just happened. Besides whatever the hell just happened in the sewer, he didn’t want to talk about that right now, he wanted to talk about his feelings. Feelings… about what exactly? Richie wasn’t sure about that one. Maybe his manager was right… maybe he needed to take up therapy to get this shit off his chest.

Richie let out a sigh, snapping out his own thoughts for therapy and everything about his career that was suddenly causing him stress. He should be celebrating right now, he and his only true friends killed the thing that tormented them for years, saving a bunch of other people in the process. Why didn’t he feel like anything special happened? For some reason he was craving some validation and wasn’t sure where to get it from. Finally, Richie started taking off the wet shirt that was clinging to him, struggling in the process since it felt like it didn’t want to come off, he felt a small sense of panic, like he was never going to be able to get it off. Once it was covering his head he heard a small knock on the door, along with the creaky door hinges opening.

“Rich, man, I totally forgot I got stabbed in my bathroom, I don’t think I can-” Eddie had started as he walked into his room, thinking it would be okay since the door was opened. The instant he saw Richie look at him, the shirt off over his head but his arms still in the sleeves he felt embarrassed. It didn’t help that Richie gave him a small, awkward smile in return. “Shit, man. I’m sorry. The door was opened…” Eddie stammered, turning away as he could feel his face becoming hot.

Eddie jumped slightly when Richie let out a laugh, dropping the shirt on the floor at his feet. “Don’t be so dramatic, Eds, we’ve gone swimming in the Quarry a shit ton of times in just our underwear, remember?”

Well… now he remembered that.

Eddie couldn’t help himself when he rolled his eyes. He didn’t look away from Richie because he was embarrassed, but because he knew that since his face was feeling hot that it was probably turning a bright shade of red and didn’t want Richie to make fun of him for that. Since Richie did bring up the fact that they used to go swimming in the Quarry a bunch of times as kids, that didn’t really matter, but it was the fact that they haven’t seen each other in years. It was almost as if they were strangers in some way, but… not really? Like… they should’ve felt like strangers, but they all had the type of friendship that never changed, no matter how long they’ve been away from each other.

“Oh, uh…” Eddie started, clearing his throat before turning to face Richie again who still had that stupid smile on his face, “can I use your shower?” He asked quickly.

Richie let out a long and dramatic sigh, resting his cheek on his hand as he stared at Eddie. “I suppooooseee soooo,” he said just as dramatically.

“ Coolthanks,” Eddie said quickly, turning around to leave the room but accidentally slammed his shoulder into the door on his way out. Richie could hear him curse under his breath as he left to go get some clean clothes and a towel, as there was no way he would use a towel that didn’t belong to him since he had no idea where it’s been and it had to be clean.

Richie moved into his bed, laying down on the sheets with his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes to relax and waiting for Eddie to come back. Waiting for him to come back? He was just using his shower, that was it.

Should I tell him how I feel? Wait, what even do I feel? No, never mind. All these thoughts were flooding through Richie’s mind all at once and he wanted them to stop. God, he was happy to see his friends, but at what cost? A clown fucking with them, his best friend almost dying, and now he’s stuck with all these feelings that’s been tormenting him for most of his adolescence.

The moment the door opened again, Richie’s eyes shot open, seeing Eddie walk back into his room with a pile of clothes and towel folded neatly. Of course he probably took the extra time to fold them before coming back. Fucking loser. Eddie stopped at the bathroom door, turning to look at Richie who was still shirtless; if Richie didn’t know any better he thought he was checking him out.

“That’s disgusting,” was the only thing Eddie said, snapping Richie out of his thoughts.

Richie instinctively looked down at his chest then back up to Eddie. “Not enjoying the view?” He asked playfully, a goofy smile on his face.

“I meant you laying on your bed after swimming around in that nasty water, you fucking idiot.”

Richie’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. Well. What is it that the kids say? YOLO? Because… YOLO.”

Eddie gave Richie a look that screamed I can’t believe you fucking said that, you idiot. He flipped him off, and Richie couldn’t help but laugh at him, he was so fucking cute.

“Aww, fuck you too, Eds,” Richie said as he flipped him off in return. Eddie shook his head, going into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Great. Now Richie was alone with his thoughts. Again.

He was trying to recall what he saw in the Deadlights. How long was he in there again? Five minutes? Five hours? It certainly felt like a lifetime, almost like he didn’t want to leave. He remembered that much. Richie had felt… happy… in the Deadlights, he certainly did not want to leave, like he actually had a life, a life he didn’t want to leave. A life he wanted to have in real life. Why couldn’t he stay? God, it sounded like he was hooked on a drug and needed to take another hit in order to feel a purpose.

Richie closed his eyes, only seeing one thing… Seeing Eddie getting stabbed by Pennywise. His blood all over him. He’s going to die, you have to save him. Save him, Richie. Who else would save him if not him?

“Richie, hey, Richie?” He heard Eddie’s voice calling his name. He wasn’t sure if this was real or just reliving what happened hours ago. He felt someone shaking his shoulder, causing Richie to open his eyes again. When he looked over he certainly didn’t expect to see Eddie standing next to him, dripping wet from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Richie’s eyes went wide in surprise as he quickly sat up in his bed, scared that if he didn’t react now something else would happen to him.

“What? What’s wrong?!” Richie blurted out, thinking that he was hurt or something. He couldn’t help himself when his eyes traveled down to Eddie’s stomach to make sure there wasn’t a hole where he had gotten stabbed. Hell, there wasn’t even a scar. It was like nothing happened.

“Is your soap antibacterial?” Eddie asked him, grabbing the towel around his waist so it wouldn’t fall.

“Um…” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose, not expecting that’s what Eddie wanted. “I don’t… I don’t think so, buddy. Is there a difference?” He asked, looking up at Eddie again as he dropped his hands to the mattress.

Eddie took in a deep breath, indicating that he was about to start speaking really fast again. “Well, there’s really no difference between normal and antibacterial soap,” he started, catching Richie off guard, “but normal soap removes germs from us while antibacterial soap kills bacteria and stops their growth.”

“Oh wow, dude…” Richie breathed out, trying to process everything Eddie was trying to say. “I’m gonna say no.”

“Did you know the FDA is even trying to ban antibacterial soap from being sold at the store because there’s really no difference?”

“Okay…” RIchie said, standing up.

He grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, spinning him around so he was in front of him as he kept talking about the fucking soap. Richie walked Eddie back over to the bathroom until he was standing in front of the door. He pushed him inside so he was in front of the sink before closing the door so Eddie could take a shower and stop talking about soap. Soap, soap, soap. Did it really fucking matter?

Richie pressed his back against the cold surface of the door, letting out a sigh as he rubbed his face in frustration.

He was in love with a goddamn idiot.

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nevillelongsbottom · 7 years

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are ya’all even ready for it: here it is, the hot fuzz au, featuring neville and lee! i’m tagging @amaliabones just bcus i love her and need validation and @audrxyweasley the bae

The only thing Neville is looking forward to in Ottery St Catchpole is, perhaps, the fresh air.

He shifts on the train as he clings to the poor peace lily he’s having to take with him; she’s not going to like the journey much at all, and he sighs into her leaves.

“Sorry, Hannah,” he says. “Not long now.”

It’s worse than he ever could have imagined: the pub is full of underage losers with voices like helium led by an indignant teen by the name of Ginny, the streets are full of leering young adults, and the person he’s just arrested for trying to not only drive drunk but with a traffic cone on his head turns out to be one of the other police constables.

“Cheer up,” he says, poking his pierced tongue out. “Means you’ve got work to do, doesn’t it?” Neville twitches; Lee seems to have all the professionalism of a goat, and twice the amount of cheek, and yet somehow they’ve been lumped as partners. Peace lily or no, he has limits - first, to be sent to this boring little village; second, to have such irritatingly poor colleagues…

He’s going to go mad and get back to London to be transferred to a mental hospital.

“Hey,” Lee calls from across the room, flinging over the car keys, which Neville catch effortlessly. “Chin up, pretty. Got a missing swan, belonging to one Luna Lovegood.”

“Lovegood?” Neville frowns. “Come on, Lee, stop taking the piss.”

“Says Sergeant Longbottom!” one of the Trouble Twins calls from his desk, and the other one joins in for their mingled hyena laugh. Neville resists the urge to throttle them both.

“Nah, she’s real, sadly. Bit off the deep end, but nice enough. You’re driving.”

“So I noticed,” Neville mutters, jangling the keys. “How does one go about catching a swan, exactly?”

With difficulty, apparently.

Neville tries to ignore the stifled giggles of Rolf Scamander, nosy neighbour, as he takes a reckless dive for the bird, who screeches and increases her pace as he slams full throttle into the ground.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles as he gets up. “I’d rather be chasing a cat burglar.”

“What? The cats are even harder to catch,” Lee laughs, resting an arm on Neville’s shoulder. “We could just lose it a bit further out and have lunch at the pub. Luna’d be none the wiser.”

“Absolutely not!” Neville snaps, appalled at just the suggestion of such an act. “We are going to catch this swan, Jordan, because that is our job and what we are paid to do.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now come on; we’ve a swan to catch.”

Neville does not catch the swan before lunch at the pub, and decides to begin a lifelong rivalry with the species out of stubborn frustration.

“Don’t worry, sarge,” Lee purrs. “It always takes some time to get used to the swing of things. How are you enjoying our little town?”

“It’s nice,” he says, taking a sip of his apple juice. “Quaint.”

“You mean shit,” Lee corrects. “Well, you’re a city boy. I guess that’s to be expected.” He has a gulp of his pint. “I’ve been here all my life. Never known anything different. It’s good, you know.”

“I imagine I’ll get used to it,” Neville replies, wishing beyond nothing for a good London patrol; nobody’s doing anything here, and why his talent and arrest records are being wasted, he has no idea. Lee smiles sympathetically.

On the bright side, Neville catches the swan.

He gets on with his duties and tries to find excitement and fun in the little things, but fails rather spectacularly. Lee’s Lee: he eats lunch with a pint at the pub and offers snide comments and little effort until Neville asks for it. The newspaper publishes articles on him, and spell his name wrong so he’s christened Log-in-Bottom by the Trouble Twins, who seem to think they’re being funny.

“I mean, it is kinda funny,” Lee shrugs. “You’ve got to admit.”

“No,” Neville says sharply, “it isn’t.”

“Alright, children, stop bickering,” Crouch Jr grunts as he passes a pair of tickets to Neville. “I’d like it if you two could do the whole department a favour and show some responsible face at this local production - or is that too hard for you?”

“No, sir,” Neville replies, trying to keep the anger out of his voice; it wouldn’t do to be angry now. “We’ll go. Lee?”

“Well, my usual style’s action, but I’ll give it a go,” he says with a smile. Neville resists the urge to roll his eyes, and hides his own smile behind his hand; there’s a lot to be said for Lee, he supposes, playful and witty. Sometimes. If he’s lucky. “Who doesn’t enjoy a bit of forbidden romance?” He grins, elbowing Neville.

“Get off, Lee,” he grumbles, but half-heartedly.

As expected, the play is abysmal; the actors are about as convincing as a twig, and having to smile at them at the after-party strains Neville’s cheeks. Lee, thankfully, is better, knowing them both a little growing up (“not that I was ever friends with Pansy and Blaise, mind; pair of twats”), and makes conversation for the both of them.

“And how on Earth did they ever become actors?” Neville grumbles, chewing on the energy bar he’d brought with him and wishing he had a coffee or the like.

“Money,” Lee replies. “They’ve got tons of it. That’s all.” He leans on the counter. “Those kind of divisions really come out in towns like these, you know? But we put up with it, like I’m sure you do in old London.” He takes a sip of his pint. “At least that play’s over, right?”

“Yes. Right.” Neville allows himself a rare smile as he looks down at Lee, leaning in to add a “thank God”.

It’s been a long while since Neville’s last been to a crime scene, and he has to suppress the urge to whoop with glee as he passes under the tape.

“Morning,” Theo mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s happened here, then?” Neville asks, nodding a curt good morning to Officers Brown and Weasley (just Fred this time, thankfully).

“It’s what it looks like,” Fred shrugs. “Car accident. Parkinson and Zabini, as you can see, have been rather made mincemeat of.” (This is not an exaggeration; were Neville not so hardy from his years in London, the sight might’ve made him sick.) “So, sarge, you’re the expert here. What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Neville frowns. “Cordon the area, single lane of traffic, visible police presence.” He looks over at Lee, who shrugs.

“Sounds right to me,” he offers.

“Then get on it with it,” Theo nods. “I’ll call the meds to clean up. Keep the public at arm’s length, alright? We don’t want to worry them; there’s just been a terrible accident.”

“Accident?” Neville frowns. “Sir, that didn’t look like an accident to me - and, by the way, it’s meant to be ‘collision’ now. Revised police vocabulary.”

“Right. Fine. A terrible collision; mouth shut, Lee, and let’s get that cordon up.”

Neville nods, taking every spare moment to fold his arms and muse; it seems strange, really, for the beheading as demonstrated on poor Parkinson to be as a result of the same collision that’s merely left Zabini a mess on the dashboard. Lee saunters up and prods him.

“What?”

“You don’t think it’s an accident, do you?” Lee asks.

��Collision.”

“You don’t think it’s a collision, do you?”

“It’s not my place to speculate without evidence, but not really, no. It just seems strange, like there’s something off about it.” Neville shrugs. “Never mind. I’m sure we’ll find out if there is any trouble in the investigation.”

“If anyone bothers to look,” Lee adds helpfully.

“Oi, Log-arse!” Fred calls; Neville sighs, and ducks back under the tape, Lee watching him go and poking his tongue to his cheek as he eyes up the wreckage.

Neville is beginning to feel like he knows the pub better than the back of his own hand; he sighs as he takes another drink of his apple juice, and Lee glances over.

“Something up?” he asks.

“No. I’m just tired.” Neville shifts over as two other patrons shove in next to him, pressing his lips together to conceal his irritation.

“Ah, look who it is!” one of them jeers. “Sergeant Longbottom, what a delight to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about your crime-solving exploits.” He holds out a hand that Neville shakes politely. “Draco Malfoy.”

“That huge mansion that takes up the entire village skyline?” Daphne adds, leaning in; Neville’s tried to avoid her smug face like the plague, but she seems fixated on him. “That’s his, and it’s all off kitchen utensils, can you believe it?”

“It’s a profitable market,” Draco grumbles, and as he makes to light a cigarette, Neville neatly snatches it from his hand and points a thumb to the door.

“Outside,” he says gruffly.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Miserable git.”

Daphne laughs, watching him go. “Don’t mind him, sarge. He’s always like that.”

“Is he now,” Neville mutters into his glass. Lee laughs, slinging their elbows together.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up. Point Break or Bad Boys II?”

“Have you ever fired two guns while jumping through the air? Or one? Ever fired a gun into the sky while screaming ‘aaah’? Ever knocked a man out with one punch?”

Suddenly, the barrage of questions Lee had posed to Neville in the first few days they’d worked together makes sense: these films, Neville notes, have no grounding in reality whatsoever and plot lines so unbelievably thick that a two-year-old could follow them easily, and yet he finds that they’re somewhat… enjoyable, with a cornetto and a glass of wine.

“Well?” Lee asks with his trademark wide grin, pushing the DVD back into its box.

“They were very interesting films,” Neville says carefully, and Lee smiles, knotting his fingers in Neville’s hair and pulling him down for a short and nearly chaste kiss; Neville raises an eyebrow, but Lee doesn’t seem to respond.

“Great,” he says, “I’ve got loads more where they came from. Now how about some Zombies’ Party?”

Neville sighs as he ducks under a flapping line of police tape, folding his arms as he examines the wreckage that once was Draco Malfoy’s mansion.

“Another accident?” he asks Lee.

“Gas explosion,” is the answer.

“Don’t you think it’s a little strange that there are two accidents like this in a row? Especially considering Malfoy’s clearly well-despised temperament?”

Lee shrugs. “Accidents happen - or, should I say, collisions happen.”

Neville stifles a laugh. “Shut up.”

Lee nods, wrapping an arm around Neville’s neck and leaning in close, breath warm where Neville’s skin is exposed. “Don’t let anyone else hear you think it’s not an accident, though, alright? They’ll take the piss.”

Neville frowns, glancing up; Lavender is waving at him from closer to the crime scene. “Lee, what if it’s not an accident? We can’t just ignore that possibility.”

“Nev,” Lee pleads.

“I’m a policeman. It’s our duty to find out what’s happened.”

Of course, they laugh at him.

They laugh at him all the way to the village fair, where the other officers have themselves some rip-roaring fun while Neville sits by himself and just thinks; there’s something off about this village, that’s for sure, but he just can’t pinpoint what.

“Sergeant Longbottom?” a hopeful young voice inquires; Neville looks up at the bright face of Colin Creevey, who’s far too lovely to be angry with, bad spelling or no. “I was hoping to talk to you about something - to do with the accidents.”

Neville sits up, nodding. “Of course; what is it?”

“Well, I’ve got a few things to do first, but why don’t we talk by the church? At three?”

Neville nods. “Of course. Thank you for coming forward, Mr Creevey.”

As Colin hurries off, camera raised, Neville allows himself a small smile - he’s not entirely wrong after all, then, and he stands up, finding Lee armed with a huge puff of candy floss. “Hi, Lee.”

“Hiya, Nev!” Lee says cheerily. “Look, you know how you love me and all?”

“Do I, now?”

“Course you do. I’m charming and wonderful and there’s a really big teddy bear over there and I want it.”

Neville snorts, wandering over to the stall and picking up the play rifle, so light under his hands; he barely even pays attention to the rules, just to what’ll get Lee that bear - Lee’s been good, and nice, and supportive, and Neville wishes there was a better way to show his gratitude than just getting Lee a fairground toy.

It’s effortlessly won and Lee looks pleased as punch, clinging to the bear, three quarters his height and making it look like there’s a large fluffy bear walking around.

“You’re the best,” Lee purrs.

“Just repaying all the cornettos,” he shrugs.

It’s pissing it down with rain and Neville wants to cry: Creevey’s dead and the other officers are still insisting it’s a fucking accident and even Lee’s all tired out, holding the umbrella.

“Don’t take it personally,” Lee implores. “We don’t get murders round here.”

“That’s no excuse for the police to just pretend that murders aren’t happening!” Neville shouts, running a hand through his hair. “People are dying - they’re being killed - and we’re still stuck in the ‘accident’ stage! Can’t you see it’s wrong?”

“These things just don’t happen here!” Lee insists. “I don’t think Theo even knows murder procedure.”

“That’s no excuse!”

“But that’s how this place works, Nev! Deal with it!”

“I will not deal with the blatant incompetence and ignorance of this constabulary!”

Lee sighs. “Come on, man. And I’ve got faith in you.” He shoves the umbrella into Neville’s hand and jogs away across the green, head ducked down, giant teddy tucked under his arm.

The bell on the door rings as Neville steps inside, immediately hit by the smell of the happy blooming flowers. He’s not spoken to Miss Sprout much at all, but she’s never seemed anything but kind, with a soft round face and a beaming smile.

“Good morning, Sergeant Longbottom,” she says. “What brings you to this little shop?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you had any Japanese peace lilies,” he answers; she nods. “For a friend - a close friend.”

“That’s lovely. Flowers are the best gift, I think; it’s just a shame I can’t stay, really.”

“Oh?” Neville frowns. “Why?”

“I’ll be moving away soon - a shame, really, but that’s just how things go, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” As Sprout wraps up Neville’s lily carefully, he explores the shop further, admiring the brightly coloured petals and elegant arrangements further back in the shop. It’s nice, he thinks, maybe the only part of the village he really appreciates; if only he weren’t so busy, he’d perhaps keep more plants. He likes them. They seem to understand.

He steps back over to the counter and almost retches with horror: Sprout is dying right in front of him, stabbed in the neck by her shears, and the suspect dressed in black has just dashed by him.

Yelping and using what little activity skills must remain from his years in the Met, he makes chase, but the suspect is unreal: they can run at speed and great length, longer than him, and Neville’s very well-trained.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, bugger.”

Lee’s sweet with him, even if the idea of murder still seems to be entirely implausible to the rest of the constabulary, and even when his accusation that it’s Greengrass backfires miserably.

“It’ll be alright, boss,” he says, leaning a head on Neville’s shoulder. “Maybe it was just a collision.”

“Piss off, Jordan,” Neville grumbles. “I know I’m right. There’s just something I’m missing.”

“You’ll get there,” Lee says, patting his back. “You ought to head home, though. Maybe grab some sleep; that always helps me figure out the next level of Sonic.”

“This is real life, not Sonic,” Neville reminds him. “But thanks.”

“No problem, sarge. Call round tomorrow if you’re still feeling rough and we can have a coffee, maybe a pint, yeah?”

Goyle’s on the floor along with the remnants of a shattered peace lily pot and Neville’s chest is heaving; he wants to call Lee, tell him what’s happened, but there’s no time: his head is racing and he knows what’s going on and he doesn’t like it, and though Lee is important, justice comes first.

He grabs his coat, and goes.

He can’t believe the scale of the operation: practically an entire village, conspiring for perfection in the worst way possible, as if it’s attainable, as if there’s something wrong with reality, that people exist and are flawed and that the function of villages are to help them cope with these flaws.

And he - he is just another box on their checklist.

Lee bails him; they’re on the road to London when he pulls over, thumbing over a few twenties as he chews his lip. “Get back to London, yeah? Stay safe. Away from here - just let the town get on.”

“What?” Neville frowns. “You can’t go back, Lee - they’re, you know, murderers!”

“I live there, Nev. It’s my home,” Lee shrugs. “I’m not expecting that you’ll understand, because you’re a city boy. But some of us are tied to our homes.”

“Lee, please,” Neville begs, but Lee is just smiling and walking away, disappearing into the encroaching dark. Neville resists the urge to kick the car, and slides in, slamming the door shut and revving the engine.

There’s a charm to action films, and a certain kind of badass dignity one achieves when riding into town on a horse with enough guns strapped to themselves to take down the residents of Ottery St Catchpole three times over.

There’s a charm, too, to leaning down to kiss the person you love while armed to the nines.

While Neville infinitely prefers extreme cycling to extreme driving, he’s certainly not averse to either; he is, however, not much a fan of being shot at while trying to drive frantically in pursuit of Crouch and Greengrass.

It’s hard to keep the smile off his face when Crouch inevitably crashes and when Greengrass ends up impaled on the model village spire, and Lee is immediately at his side, elbowing him. “I think she looked better without the new addition,” he says, deadpan until he giggles. “You did a good thing, you know. Old Crouch deserved that broken arm.”

“Oi! Log-arse!” They’re a whole crew, the police force, clambering up the hill and over to the model village, all grinning widely; the twins, Theo, Lavender, the incomprehensible Oliver (Neville thinks even the people in Scotland would struggle to make sense of his drawling accent), and the desk crew, Seamus and Dean. “Look at you go, you London wanker!”

“That’s high praise from you, Fred,” Neville says with a smile. “You guys took care of everything in town?”

“That’s everyone locked up and away, and higher forces called,” Theo confirms.

“And yet you’re all here, with no-one taking care of the cells,” Neville points out, chuckling lightly - it’s not funny, of course, but it’s just so wonderfully typical of the Catchpole Police Service. “We ought to head back, keep an eye out. You guys can decide who the cake’s on this time, and not Lee, because he’s a great shot.” (This is most indubitably a lie.) “Thank you for all your help - even you, Fred, George.”

“No problem, Log-bum,” George says cheerily. “That’s our job. Just make us best men at yours and Lee’s wedding.” Neville rolls his eyes, but smiles over at Lee, linking their hands.

“Have you still got that giant teddy?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Man, I hate paperwork,” grumbles Fred; not that he’s done much, of course, just a pathetic pile of completed papers.

“At least we’ve got cake!” Lavender beams, offering Fred another slice that he takes gleefully; even Neville takes another slice, between watering the service’s new collection of cactus plants. “This is so much fun. We should do this more often.”

“Just arrest more people,” says Theo.

Neville pauses, cup of water hovering nervously over Oliver Wood Jr., turning slowly to Lee. “Hey, Lee,” he says, “was Moody in the NWA?”

Lee’s eyes widen. “Shit,” he says in substitute of “yes”, and dives for the door to find the nearest weapon; Neville grabs an empty plate as the door to the CCTV room swings open and Mad-Eye Moody steps through, gun in hand.

“Think we were through, did you, Longbottom?” he bellows, and fires.

Lee’s an idiot, and he gets in the way.

“Hey,” Lee says, pausing to lean back in through the car window. “Want anything from the shop, love?”

“Just a cornetto,” Neville replies, softly kissing Lee’s lips. “Sarge.”

“Coming up, Inspector.” As Lee heads off, Neville leans out of the car window; he takes a breath of Ottery St Catchpole’s fresh air, and eagerly awaits yet another day of working in a small village.

#i write shit #was considering harry as sgt angel but i thought neville was more interesting #lee jordan #neville longbottom #lee x neville #neville x lee #i love the image of lee just wandering around with a huge teddy bear happy as larry #rarepair #hprarepairnet #it's missing a lot of plot and not exactly accurate but it was just meant to be a bit of fun #i love this movie #hp rarepair

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